〝 cold heart and hands and aptitude and when she calls,
she calls for me and not for you 〞
psychiatric assistant!lara raj x fem!reader ◞ mdni.
dr. wyndham only rents to young women. she says it's because young minds gather modern research.
when your offer is accepted off a sketchy online ad— a one bed, opulent room in the home of the city’s most famous psychiatrist, it feels like it’s the opening of a lifetime.
dr. keira wyndham is ingenious, revered, and well loved. renting a room in her showpiece of a house seems unreal (and also every psychology students reverie)— especially when you’re invited to help in dr. wyndham’s longitudinal studies.. not only for cheaper rent, but for small pay checks.
the rules are clear
follow her instructions.
keep inside your room, and don’t wander the house for too long.
don’t talk with the staff.
especially one named lara raj.
though the longer you find yourself in the master bedroom, the harder it becomes to keep your curiosity away from the things that don’t quite match. doors find themselves unlocked, your belongings keep disappearing, you can’t find any previous signs of earlier tenants, and lara— dr. wyndham's assistant who is nothing but quiet and reclusive— looks at you as if something is terribly wrong. as if she's trying to tell you something, warn you of something— without getting caught.
you're about to find out that some studies aren't meant to help understand people.
they're meant to keep them locked away. for good.
abt. psychological horror + thriller · slow burn romance · manipulation · smut · emotional + psychological abuse · isolation · medical and psychiatric manipulation · small age gap romance (for a small while, not main romance) · obsession with dependency · moral ambiguity · mutual pining · domestic horror · someone is lying
A/N || and another one.. separate content warnings with every individual chapter. kisses, brooklynn.
Since high school, Y/N has loved Lara in silence, cheering her through Dream Academy, KATSEYE’s debut, and every late night doubt. When Lara’s boyfriend Orlando breaks her heart, Y/N becomes her anchor, ice cream, sleepovers, whispered promises of “you deserve better.” But when Orlando returns, Y/N quietly returns to the backburner, still loving her best friend from the shadows.
Y/N had known Lara since they were both awkward teens. Back then, Lara was still Lara Rajagopalan, the girl with the big voice, the even bigger dreams. Y/N was the quiet one in the back of theater class, sketching set designs and pretending not to stare every time Lara belted out a note that made the drama teacher wipe away tears. They became friends over shared headphones during lunch, Lara introducing Y/N to Paramore and LE SSERAFIM, Y/N showing her underground indie playlists.
By junior year, it was undeniable, Y/N was in love. Not the fleeting crush kind. The soul deep, I would burn the world for you kind. But Lara saw them as her safe place, her best friend, the person who always showed up. So Y/N learned to smile through it, to be the shoulder, the cheerleader, the one who never asked for more.
That pattern followed them into adulthood like a shadow that never quite left the room.
Lara’s journey to stardom started with a late night audition video she sent to HYBE and Geffen’s global search in 2023. Y/N was the first person she called after hitting submit. “Y/N, if I make it, you’re coming to every single thing. Promise?” Lara’s voice had been shaking with excitement over the phone. Y/N, sitting in their tiny Brooklyn apartment, had laughed softly. “Promise. I’ll be your loudest fan even if I have to scream from the cheap seats.”
They kept that promise. During Dream Academy, Y/N stayed up until 4 a.m every episode night, live tweeting encouragement under a private account, texting Lara the second the cameras cut “You killed every stage. The way you hit every high notes? I cried. Actual tears.” When Lara placed second and debuted as the main vocalist of KATSEYE, Y/N flew out to Los Angeles for the showcase. They stood in the crowd holding a handmade sign that read “LARA RAJ — SOFT IS STRONG & SO ARE YOU” in glittery script. After the show, Lara ran straight into their arms backstage, sweat still glistening on her forehead, the scent of stage lights and vanilla body spray mixing together. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” she whispered, hugging Y/N so tight it hurt in the best way. Y/N swallowed the lump in their throat and hugged back harder, pretending the ache in their chest was just jet lag.
Life in LA after debut was a whirlwind. KATSEYE blew up, VMAs, Grammys nominations, sold out tours. Lara’s Instagram filled with red carpet looks, studio sessions, and glimpses of her family. Y/N moved to LA too, finding a job as a freelance graphic designer for indie labels, close enough to be Lara’s constant. Close enough to watch her fall in love with someone else.
Orlando entered the picture like a plot twist no one asked for. He was a musician himself, songwriter with a Spotify following that grew every time Lara posted a story with him.
They met at a label party in late 2024. Lara texted Y/N the morning after “Met this guy Orlando last night. He’s… different. In a good way. Want to meet him?” Y/N’s stomach dropped, but they typed back immediately: “Of course. Bring him to our usual spot.”
The first dinner was torture disguised as celebration. They sat at their favorite place in Silver Lake, the one with the fairy lights. Orlando was charming, tall, 25 turning 26 soon, with easy laughter and stories about songwriting sessions in Nashville. Lara’s eyes sparkled when she looked at him. Y/N smiled, nodded, paid the bill like always. On the drive home, alone in their car, Y/N blasted the song that had become their secret anthem months earlier, NIKI’s “Backburner.”
The lyrics hit different that night.
I can't lie, it feels nice that you're calling
You sound sad and alone, and you're stalling
And for once, I don't care about what you want
As long as we keep talking…
Y/N sang along under their breath, voice cracking on the pre chorus. They knew the history with Lara was unmatched. High school late-night talks about dreams, the way Lara always called after bad auditions even when she had new friends. But now? Now Y/N was crisping up on the backburner while Orlando got the main flame.
The relationship deepened. Lara and Orlando went public in subtle ways, Instagram stories, a TikTok where he called her “Lala” and she blushed. Fans noticed. Some loved it. Others dragged the age gap, the fact he was older, the way Lara seemed smaller next to him in photos. Y/N saw the comments, the Reddit threads, the Koreaboo articles. They defended her privately: “Ignore the noise, Lara. You’re happy. That’s what matters.” Inside, every “happy” felt like a knife twist. Because Y/N was the one Lara still called at 2 a.m. when Orlando was busy in the studio. The one who brought her favorite boba after long rehearsals. The one who knew exactly how she liked her ice cream, two scoops of strawberry cheesecake with hot fudge, extra cherries.
“You’re my safe person, Y/N. Always have been.” Lara would say, curling into their couch during movie nights while Orlando was away. And Y/N would smile, play with her hair like they had since high school, and whisper back, “Always.”
The breakup hit in like a sudden storm. Lara called at midnight, voice thick with tears. “Y/N… he left. Said the pressure was too much. The fans, the age thing, everything. I don’t know what to do.” Y/N didn’t hesitate. They grabbed their keys, drove across the city in record time, and showed up at Lara’s apartment with a grocery bag full of supplies, two pints of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, a family size bag of Takis, her favorite fuzzy blanket from high school sleepovers, and a playlist already queued.
Lara opened the door in an oversized KATSEYE hoodie, eyes puffy, mascara streaks like war paint. She collapsed into Y/N’s arms immediately. “I’m such an idiot. Why did I think it would work?” Her voice broke against their shoulder.
Y/N held her steady, guiding her to the couch. “Hey, hey. You’re not an idiot. You’re human. And he’s the one who couldn’t handle how bright you shine. Come on, ice cream therapy. Doctor’s orders.”
They spent the next three days in a cocoon of comfort. Sleepover mode activated like old times. The living room became a fortress of pillows and blankets. They watched The Notebook, Parasite, and every KATSEYE performance video on loop. Between episodes, Y/N scooped ice cream into mismatched bowls, handing Lara the bigger one every time.
“You deserve better, Lara. Someone who sees you, the real you. Not just the star on stage, but the girl who still gets nervous before every live and who sings Tamil lullabies when she thinks no one’s listening. Someone who’s been there since LaGuardia, who knows your coffee order, who would drop everything just to hear you laugh again.” Y/N’s voice was soft but deliberate. They didn’t say the quiet part out loud, Someone like me.
Lara nodded, spoon halfway to her mouth, tears mixing with melted ice cream. “You always know what to say. God, what would I do without you?”
That night, as Lara dozed off on the couch with her head in Y/N’s lap, Y/N pulled out their phone and hit play on the song that had carried them through every silent heartbreak. NIKI’s voice filled the dim room low enough not to wake her.
Maybe I'm just not better than this, I haven't tried
Maybe life's less romantic when I don't wanna die
You'd think I'd be a fast learner
But guess I won't ever mind crisping up on your backburner
Y/N mouthed the words, thumb stroking Lara’s hair. The lyrics felt custom written for them. Backburner. That’s exactly what they is, always the call when things got hard, never the first choice when things were good. But in that moment, with Lara’s breathing steady against their thigh, it didn’t matter. They’d crisp up a thousand times if it meant she was okay.
The sleepover stretched into long talks at 3 a.m. under fairy lights Y/N had strung up for the occasion. Lara opened up about the Dream Academy pressure, the way fans picked apart her body after every comeback, the fear that Orlando had only wanted the spotlight version of her. Y/N listened, really listened, offering advice wrapped in memories.
“Remember junior year? You bombed that monologue in theater and cried in the stairwell. I brought you that terrible vending machine hot chocolate and told you, ‘One bad day doesn’t erase the star you are.’ You debuted in a global group. You survived worse than some guy who couldn’t handle the heat. You deserve someone who chooses you every single day, Lara. Not just when it’s convenient.”
Lara looked up at them, eyes shining in the low light. “Why are you so good to me? Seriously. I don’t deserve you.”
Y/N’s heart cracked open a little more. They forced a laugh. “Because you’re my best friend. And best friends don’t keep score.” Inside, the truth screamed, Because I’m in love with you. Because I’ve been on this backburner so long I forgot what the main flame feels like.
They quoted the song without naming it, letting the lyrics bleed into the conversation like a secret code only they understood.
“You know that feeling when someone only calls when they’re sad and alone? And you answer every time even though it hurts? That’s not weakness. That’s history. Unmatched history. But you don’t have to stay there forever.”
Lara hummed in agreement, not realizing the words were pulled straight from NIKI’s verse. “Yeah… stalling. That’s what he did. Called me when he was lonely. I don’t want that anymore.”
For four beautiful, painful days, it felt like old times. Y/N cooked Lara’s favorite, simple dal and rice with extra ghee, the way her mom used to make it. They danced around the kitchen to old playlists, laughing until their stomachs hurt.
One night, tipsy on cheap wine and sugar highs, they sang karaoke to KATSEYE’s own songs. Lara grabbed the mic first, belting her parts with that powerhouse voice that had carried her to second place on Dream Academy. When it was Y/N’s turn for the harmony parts, Lara pulled them close, arms around their waist. “You’re better than half the backup dancers we had on tour.” she teased.
In that moment, with her breath warm against Y/N’s neck, it almost felt possible. Almost like the backburner could finally move to the front.
But reality never stays paused.
On day five, Lara’s phone lit up during breakfast. Orlando’s name. Y/N watched her hesitate, then answer. The conversation was quiet, muffled in the other room. When Lara came back, her eyes were different, brighter, softer, the kind of glow only certain people could spark.
“He apologized. Said he was scared of the hate, the age thing, everything. But he wants to try again. He’s coming over tonight.”
Y/N’s spoon froze mid air over their cereal. The ice cream from the night before suddenly tasted like ash in memory. They forced the brightest smile they could manage. “That’s… great, Lara. If that’s what you want. You deserve to be happy.”
Inside, the chorus looped on repeat:
Guess I won't ever mind crisping up on your backburner
Oh, and I know that it's sad that I settle for the backburner
Lara hugged them tight. “Thank you for everything these past days. You’re the best. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without my Y/N.” She pulled back, eyes searching theirs. “You’ll still be here, right? My constant?”
Y/N nodded, throat tight. “Always. Go get ready. I’ll clean up.”
They left before Orlando arrived. Drove home in silence, the city lights blurring through unshed tears. Once in their apartment, Y/N collapsed onto the bed and finally let the song play at full volume.
Backburner
Your backburner
Your backburner
Your backburner
The outro hit like a confession:
Oh, guess I won't ever mind crisping up on your backburner, oh-oh
Oh, as long as you still think of me, oh, oh-oh
Y/N cried for the first time in months. Not loud, dramatic sobs, just quiet, steady tears that soaked the pillow. They had supported her through high school heartbreaks, through the grueling weeks of Dream Academy where she doubted herself daily, through debut jitters and tour exhaustion. Through every late night call where she chose them first. But when Orlando came back, Y/N had no choice but to step aside again. Accept it. Be the best friend. The safe place. The backburner.
Days turned into weeks. Lara and Orlando were back together stronger, posting soft-launch photos again. The age gap drama. Y/N saw stories of lara replying with a heart emoji, texted “Looking good, you two! Happy for you ❤️” and meant it enough to survive the day.
But at night, alone, the song played on loop. Y/N would mouth the pre chorus while making dinner.
The Goo Goo Dolls are dead to me
The way you should be, too
But you bring them up
Along with how much I fucking miss you
They missed the version of Lara that was just theirs. The high school girl who shared secrets under the bleachers. The Dream Academy trainee who sent voice notes at 3 a.m. singing half finished songs. The one who, for four days after the breakup, had looked at Y/N like maybe, just maybe, they could be more.
One evening, months later, Lara called again. Not crying this time happy, bubbly. “Orlando proposed a weekend getaway. But I need my best friend’s opinion on the outfit. Come over? Ice cream on me this time.”
Y/N stared at their reflection in the mirror tired eyes, the same smile they’d perfected since fifteen. “Be there in twenty.”
They showed up with fresh Takis and a new playlist. Lara hugged them like nothing had changed. And in a way, nothing had. Y/N was still there. Supporting. Comforting. Loving quietly.
As they sat on the couch flipping through outfit options, Lara played music in the background. Somehow, NIKI came on shuffle. Lara laughed. “This song always reminds me of complicated feelings. You know?”
Y/N nodded, voice steady. “Yeah. I know.”
Inside, the final lines echoed like a vow they’d never break:
Oh, as long as you still think of me…
They would crisp up on that backburner forever if it meant Lara stayed warm. Because that’s what love looked like when you were the best friend. When you were the constant. When the history was unmatched, even if the future never quite chose you back.
And somewhere in the quiet of their chest, Y/N whispered the truth only the song knew, Guess I won’t ever mind...
A/N: It’s 12 AM here 031426, my birthday so this is kinda my gift for you guys so as always don’t take anything here too seriously, it’s clearly just fan fiction created by my imagination. The character is referred to using they/them pronouns. thinking about @jorlandoforever when i made this…
summary-> Blue was always a symbol between you and lara, whenever you saw blue you always thought about each other, it meant love for you. But you never know what could happen in the end.
pairing: lara raj x fem reader
warnings: profanity, angst
word count: 3.5k
extras-> this is the same character background as 505 smau i have, except im not using her name but she is still martins sister and she just isn't a solo artist anymore.
a/n: hey guys im back😃.. this is a oneshot but if i really want to, i'll make another part
Being lara's girlfriend was easy right? you knew what she was getting herself into. you guys dated during highschool, then broke up, and got back together. Lara was always busy with katseye and you knew that. you didn't want to bother her too much so you gave her some space but lately it felt like too much space to give and it was making you go insane. you wanted to pull lara to the side and talk to her. But its not like you could, she was rarely home anyways.
It's not like lara hated you, she wasn't ignoring you on purpose at all. But she was too busy to consider thinking about your feelings. She knew everything was off from this one night. The argument was still fresh in her head, all the words that was spat out because of anger was still lingering to haunt her. She would find herself having dreams about it, messing up dance moves because it flooded her mind. But there was also one more thing that flooded her mind.
break up, its a waste of time. she's wasting your time.
she didn't want to believe it, she refused to. But the more she kept thinking about it, the more it came back, the more she distanced herself. You hated distance, you hated being closed off and not being able to help. She just kept doing everything to make you hate her.
You two haven't spoken since the argument, which was part of the reason why she always thinks about it. You two are too stubborn to talk to each other first- well actually you've texted her and she didn't answer. So you gave up. You both have toxic traits, lara distances herself and never opens up while you give up easily, you don't try hard enough. Now you're probably thinking, oh maybe the argument wasn't even that bad?
wasnt that bad? It was bad enough for you two to stop contacting each other!
Trying to get her out of your mind was absolutely HELL. You'd see blue? you'll think of lara. Anything blue reminded you of her, even if it wasnt her favorite color. It was a small thing you two had back in highschool, and oh how you prayed you were healthy like that again. Instead, you're lying in bed, reminiscing the time of making that promise.
Highschool time
Lara was looking all around the school for you during lunch, you'd usually sit with her and her friends but this time? You wanted to be alone. She kind of panicked since you weren't answering your phone either. Did you leave early? Did you skip? Are you in the nurses room? She asked her friends since you rarely had any friends yourself but no one knew where you were. Then, it came to her. Your last resort to being alone was always the art room.
She walked up to the art room, opening the door slowly then seeing you sitting there, painting a canvas with your airpods in. Lara smiled and walked behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your neck to get your attention. "hey.. you completely disappeared on me without a word" she complained softly.
"i know, im sorry i just wanted to be alone for a little bit. But i don't mind you here anymore" you responded, pausing your music to give her your focus. Lara scanned the painting you were making. It was shades of blue, and two people kissing but the faces weren't visible. She already knew who it was.
"you know, you always paint in blue whenever you paint us, why don't you do green or something?" she questioned softly, she wasn't judging, she was just genuinely curious.
"you do know green is usually meant for platonic ones right? So is yellow." you knew she barely knew anything about the deeper meanings of color. But you learned to be patient with her. (at times) "okay so what does blue mean?"
"mm.. deep loyalty.." you responded softly, continuing to paint with another shade of blue, just a little darker than the others to make details.
"yeah? you're not shitting me?" lara teased with a small laugh. She knew you were right, even if she didn't know it herself she trusted you with it. You were smart, like hella smart so there was no doubt in her. "you know, everytime i see something blue, so like the sky, i always think of you. You always paint in blue" she added with a soft smile, she sat in the chair next to you, watching you closely as you continued to paint.
"do you now?" you question, she responded with a soft hum. "so i guess blue is just our color, no?" You giggled, it was only a joke but then she agreed. "definitely. From now on, blue is our color. Anytime we see blue, think of each other." she stared at your painting, taking it in. "promise me that?"
she held out her pinky, waiting for you. You looked down, and interlocked your pinky with hers, getting some paint on her finger. She pulled her closer, giving her a small kiss. "i love you so much, you know that?"
"im very aware.. but i love you more"
present time
that was probably your most favorite memory you had with her. It built the relationship you had with her. But now? You found yourself getting out of bed and sliding on a hoodie that you stole from her. You grabbed your keys, put your shoes on and headed out the door. You had one place you wanted and needed to be.
at her dorm, in her arms.
you grabbed your phone and sent her a quick text.
Larz🩵
hey can you open your door rn ?
delivered
You sighed, waiting anxiously by her dorm door, hoping she was the one that opened it and not the other girls. You've been out the door for quite a while, as you were about to walk away and head back home, the door opened. You turned around and saw lara, her hair messy and she looked lost.
"sorry.. did i wake you up?" you felt guilty, but she shook her head. "no, i've been awake. I was just on the tv and not my phone." she responded but you knew it was a lie. She just didn't want you to be guilty.
Laying in lara's bed didn't feel right, it didn't bring the comfort that it always did. You looked around her room, seeing her LED lights were on blue. But it wasn't the light sky she always had on. You taught her that light sky blue meant a deeper love meaning, so she always had it on that. But this time, it was on a darker shade. Then it all clicked. You remembered.
deep dreamy blue usually meant distance, something you'd see in the horizon and it was far away. Something far away just like the relationship you have with your partner right now.
"are we okay?" you suddenly blurted out.
"yeah..? why?"
"it doesnt feel like it."
lara understood what you meant, it didn't feel right for her either. Was she falling out of love with you or was she just going crazy? "fuck nevermind" you dismissed it, trying not to make a scene. But she knew you wanted to talk about it badly. "no, don't do that. Talk to me" she tried pushing you. She sat up as she watched you get up and grab your stuff. "no its fine lara, you have rehearsals in the morning, go rest."
"i can still rest with you in my arms."
"can you? Cause everytime i'm in your arms it feels like you're suffocating — like it's hell for you." She hated that you were right, hated how accurate you were with your words. "okay don't be like that. you know thats not true. I love having you in my arms, i rest better, you know that." Lara tried to defend herself, but it sounded more like a lie. A lie you wanted to believe.
"i don't know that— well i used to. But not anymore i do."
"why are you acting like this? why are you all of a sudden so bitter?" she got off her bed to grab you by the wrist before you can walk out.
"you think i didn't notice? Your led's aren't the sky blue you always put, its the darker shade-"
Lara let out a scoff and looked at you in disbelief. "you pissed over some stupid colors?"
"its not stupid! I told you what they meant"
"oh im sorry for forgetting some information you told me about 3 years ago! The colors are stupid, its just something they made up years and years ago it doesnt mean anything! Doesn't mean anything in our relationship either so stop being a fucking bitch right now." Right after those words left her mouth, she already regretted it. She knew how important it was for you with your and your colors, it was something you would always talked about. The information wasn't just 3 years ago, it was something you mentioned any chance she got. No matter how much regret lara had for those words, she still continued on with them. "what is it that you want from me? Do you want me to memorize all of the meanings of a rainbow for you?"
"thats not what i meant." your voice was quieter now, lara knew what she did, and knew she was the reason why. "its just.. we aren't the same lara. You can't gaslight yourself thinking we are the same as before. We barely talk, text, see each other and it doesn't even feel like we're together anymore. It doesn't feel like i'm with the same girl who i fell in love with in highschool." You explained,
"well we're busy. I have tour, you're doing your art.. shit and newsflash, people grow up so of course i'm not the same from highschool! Maybe if you got a real job that kept you busy you would understand what its like to have a packed schedule." What the fuck was she saying right now? Why won't she stop?
"do you even want to be together anymore?"
"what?"
"do you even want to be together anymore?" you repeated.
"of course i do" she responded, she felt like it was a stupid question
"then why can't you act like it? you haven't said a word to me in weeks!"
"i promise you we won't be like this after my tour, i'll be on break and-" there was a slight panic in lara's voice. She couldn't lose you. Not now, or ever. "its always after the tour lara! Everything is after the tour- you're off on weekend and during your breaks you manage to message on weverse but you can't even message your own girlfriend?!" The tears in your eyes were something you absolutely hated right now.
"i mean you don't even say i love you anymore, when we're on call— if im lucky and i get that call, its only to ask if i'm heading to the tour, then you'll just say 'alright bye!' and hang up." some tears already fell out. You tried distracting yourself by running your hand through your hair but it wasn't helping at all.
Lara noticed your tears falling out and she felt like this. "no baby of course i love you, i'm saying it right now. I love you so much—"
"you're only saying it because i just mentioned it, if i didn't you'd be shit talking me!" fuck she knew you were right. She pulled you by your waist and into her arms. Whispering soft words into your head. You cried and cried into her arms.
But it was too silent. It was like you knew something. "holy shit.. you were gonna ask me if i was going to the tour weren't you— just a few second ago-"
"no.. no what?" she tried to convince you she wasn't, but she was going to.
"i can't do this, its always tour that, tour this- what about us?! What about our future plans? why can't it be about us for once?" your voice broke. Lara was staring at the same girl who she loved, and still does since high school, she's never seen you break down like this. Ever.
She watched you walk out of her room without a word, she knew it was better to give you space. But as you walked out; she still hasn't said the same 3 simple words. It was at the tip of her tongue, but her mouth refused to let it out.
It's been a few days since the argument, you didn't pick up any of her calls, didn't open any of her messages and she stopped. You gave up. Again. You isolated yourself from everyone, you've been stuck in your apartment painting and painting with the same shades of blue over and over and over again. Everything reminded you of her, all the paintings you were surrounded with, the shades of blue, it was all dedicated to her.
Lara had enough, she needed to know if you were okay, or even alive. She had no connections to you but her phone, and you weren't even answering her messages so how was she supposed to know? She found herself at your door. She doesn't even remember the drive here, but she just gained consciousness once she realized she was out your door. She debated if she wanted to knock, or use the spare key that you trusted her with.
She ended up using the key, once she opened the door, the house was dark. She looked around, seeing dishes piled up, trash piled up, she didn't even know the trash could get that tall. "oh my god.." she muttered as she walked around. She walked towards your room; it was empty. Then she walked towards your art room. She opened it and saw paint splattered everywhere, and you were sitting there working on another canvas.
it was blue.. again.
"you still don't choose any other colors?" she took one of your airpods out of your ear to get you attention. You jumped a little and turned to at her. "huh?" she shook her head. "nevermind.."
She walked around your art room, seeing all your other canvases and remembered the argument. All the canvases were just them, but they had no face and they were shades of blue. Lara sighed and looked back at you. "you have 20 different paint bottles and you still use the same 5 ones. The only different color you use is— white." She picked up the paint bottles and compared it to the almost empty blue ones. "i don't use white?"
"jesus.. you don't?" you shook your head and showed her the lightest shade of blue you had, it looks white on canvases, but it wasn't blue. "i don't know if i should be impressed or annoyed." she scoffed. "are you allergic to other colors of the rainbow?" obviously she was joking.
The silence went on as she watched you, watched each brush stroke make more progress on the paintings. "i'm moving back." you spat out randomly. She froze and looked at you instead of the painting. "moving back where? your old apartment?" you shook your head, continuing to paint. "canada, or korea. Wherever mom and dad go." Its the fact you were dropping all of this with a straight face, like you didn't care. "when?" "about.. two weeks?"
"and you didn't care to tell me?"
"figured you were busy with tour." your words were bitter, but it was true. She was busy with tour. "okay well— if you told me that i would've focused on you!"
"so the only way you can focus on me is if i'm moving?"
"thats not what i meant."
"really? Because it sure sounds like it."
You two just went back and forth for a while. This is how your fights always ended up, and then one would just walk out. But she was going to end that today, she was going to (attempt) to fix it, to get you back, to get all of you back.
"we need to talk, like seriously." she waited for you to look back at her. "fucking hell— put the damn paint brushes down! Just for once, put them down and focus what's going on between us. We aren't the same, we aren't us anymore. You need to understand that, stop focusing on your fucking blue shades!" she pleaded. But you let her plead out, you wanted her to feel how you felt prior to that one argument that started this. "i'm being serious.. please, just focus on me for once." she whispered.
"i focus on you a lot, you don't focus on me. So this? the things you're feeling right now is how i feel when you have a damn busy schedule. You don't pay attention to anything, you dismiss it and wait after tour to talk about it like it's going to get better, but guess what lara? It gets worse, so what do you want me to do? Give you the attention you want and the things i needed? Why would i do something so one sided?" each brush stroke got more aggressive.
"baby.."
"no! no lara! You don't get to call me that after neglecting me for 4 months straight, and if i do it for only two weeks its like the world is ending!! Did you not feel like this last time?!" you were so frustrated, that you weren't even paying attention to what you were doing with your painting. You stopped your brush strokes when you felt lara grab your wrists and stop the,. You stared at the canvas, the painting had big smudges on it. You sighed and got off the chair and went to the bathroom.
"okay.. okay great, we can work with this" lara muttered, following you to the bathroom.
Everything else was a blur, just random words being yelled at to each other. Tears streaming down, everything was out of place. Why couldn't they just have a normal conversation without arguing for once?
There was this one other memory she had of you of course. It was you taking the subway to the airport, knowing it'd probably be the last time she'd see you in person for a while.
"you're really sure of this?" lara asked softly. She wasn't ready to let go yet.
"i'm sure. Its not like i'm dead or anything you know." You teased softly, giving her a small kiss to her head. She held onto you tightly, hoping this wouldn't be her last times with you.
The announcement on speaker called the station, she let go of you and wanted to hold onto you linger but she knew she couldn't. "i'll visit for your birthday, i promise." You reassured her. She nodded and gave you one last deep kiss. She was glad you never let go of her even though you tend to give up easily.
As months passed, it turned into years. You would text daily and you decided to go fly back to LA for lara's birthday.
but then there was a day you stopped answering, lara didn't know why. Maybe you changed numbers? But she spent weeks thinking you ghosted her. That was until she flew to korea for promotions. She met your brother in the music bank hallway. Then the news broke to her.
"oh hey martin!" lara greeted with a smile, she's seen your brother grow up and now he's a famous idol. "oh hey! I haven't seen you for a long time!" he greeted back with a smile as well.
"yeah.. yeah we havent. How's your sister?" martin froze at the question. The question echoed through his head. "you don't know?" lara looked at him with a confused expression. What does she not know?
"huh?"
"shit.. she passed like.. months ago." lara froze. You what?
"what?"
"she was on the way to LA for your birthday, then the plane crashed.. you haven't seen that news article?"
Hearing the news absolutely broke lara. She took a hiatus and definitely didn't know what she was doing in her life. Lara barely left her room, the girls gaining concern but they knew she needed the space. She couldn't help but think about having to spend her birthday, holidays, your birthday, without you even there.
Its been a year now, it was your birthday. She flew to korea, and she would usually surprise you by your room, but instead she's sitting by your grave with light blue flowers to represent the love she has for you.
"happy birthday baby." she said with tears in her eyes. Maybe she shouldn't have let go that day. But all she knew was that she was never going to get over this forever.
But now, anytime she sees anything blue, she thinks of you.
She's learned loads of things while dating you, colors have different representations in love. But one most important thing she learned was:
blue always has a meaning.
blue always means something.
a/n: my bad guys.. i saw an edit of blue valentine to 20th century girl and yeah.. mustve been the wind..
psychiatric assistant!lara raj x fem!reader ◞ mdni.
sometimes great offers are meant to be left alone.
abt. psychological horror + thriller · slow burn romance · manipulation · smut · emotional + psychological abuse · isolation · medical and psychiatric manipulation · small age gap romance (for a small while, not main romance) · obsession with dependency · moral ambiguity · mutual pining · domestic horror · someone is lying
A/N || hope you guys like it. kisses, brooklynn.
dr. keira wyndham had to have been as popular as some of the celebrities who resided in your city. she built herself a name, from the bottom up— as you’d found out through flipping past the yellowing pages of her memoir ‘the science of letting go’ which spoke a lot for itself, though truthfully she was an excellent writer.
you propped open the top part of your coral styled luggage, the zipper separating it into halves. throwing your clothes in, you could barely contain the excitement that surged through your body.
this was really it. your fresh start.
your clothes began to tip over the rough edge, eliciting an annoyed groan as you bent down to neatly fold the clothes instead— not to mention, the abundance of space you were awarding yourself.
dr. wyndham cleared patients like they were easy, just child's play. they would find themselves on an endless waiting list only to be unexpectedly selected and treated months in advance— these were the patients she classified as ‘in active crisis’ which gave them the opportunity to skip the wait.
no matter the extremity of the people she’d treat, they all came back the same.
serene, mended, and changed for the betterment of themselves.
you also weren’t sure what that meant entirely, it could’ve meant a lot of different things but you also didn’t have it in you to want to find out.
you stood up, hands feeling the top of your closet for your go to jeans, hands barely scuffing the material. the jeans came propelling down, landing right on your carpeted floor.
your hands folded the fabric together, making sure to smooth out any potential wrinkles, fitting the denim bottoms next to your black knitted sweater.
there was always something so unsettling about the woman though, you figured it was just the way her patients always came back so…
lobotomized.
you’d seen plenty of discussions online, but you chose to turn away from all their negative theoretical bullshit, because dr. keira wyndham was much more kind than they let on.
you reached over to your desk for the toiletry bag you’d put together nights prior— deodorant, a hair brush, hair ties, bobby pins, a hair clip, a toothbrush, some toothpaste, and many more necessary items that you were too tired to check off.
you plopped the bag next to your folded pyjamas.
the truth was, you didn't have anything going for you.
you were in bountiful debt, you were socially abolished for reasons you weren't quite ready to repeat, and you had done something you couldn’t quite come back from.
not now, not ever.
a chill ran through your spine from thinking about that moment, you shook it off, turning to sign out your laptop.
a few months ago you’d logged onto a website— one that was deleted ages ago, and you’d gone through the mundane task of looking through baseless ads.
babysitter? no. dog walker? another no. get paid to watch a man in his 60s bathe? you had to take a break after that one.
you were losing hope, you couldn’t find anything that promised a quick start, something new and loose, nothing tied to you.
and then you saw it.
posted by l.raj
looking for women (22-28) who need a room to rent for the year, no refunds on payments.
rules are nonnegotiable. payments are required to come in timely. more details can be found in further private conversation. reachable by email, just request a message with needed info.
show more
as a psychology student working on your masters— online because you were never the one to enjoy commuting— you knew exactly who l.raj was.
the woman was no other than lara raj, the only assistant that dr. wyndham has kept hired for years. this was a really big deal.
on your 23rd birthday, you’d promised one thing to yourself. this would be it.
you let yourself loiter for the last four years, graduated just barely, took a year off to figure shit out that you of course, never got around to, and finally applied to further your education. except your payment was due on the tiny crammed up apartment you were renting. you couldn’t possibly find somewhere new that promised that new start you’d been chasing other than this.
so, you clicked her profile.
there wasn't much to view, just a default profile with half a name filled out, and this one singular post.
hm, you thought it was a bit unprofessional.
your cursor hovered open the ‘send message’ button, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your pointer finger lowered itself on your mouse.
you are now talking with l.raj. send a message?
hey. how are you? i saw the ad you posted and i would be lying if i said i wasn’t interested. may i get more information?
l.raj is typing…
your breath hitched for a moment, that was fast.
email?
you looked at the five letter word. no acknowledgement, no greeting. just email.
right, it’s *********@gmail.com
perfect.
you waited for what felt like forever before your laptop buzzed with a new gmail notification.
below you'll see photos of the room, rent is around $700 but can be agreed to be lowered under specific circumstances. rules are rules, follow them and you’ll be fine. as for everything else.. it’s easier for keira to explain. interested?
your mouth was dropped open. this was the best thing that could’ve happened, not only are you paying half of what you were before, but it could be lowered and you were going to be living in the very home that keira occupied.
yes, i’m interested.
perfect, i’ll get back to you.
after that you’d gotten a call by lara raj herself, explaining how keira specially selected you.
you’d gotten in. you’d gotten the room.
you thanked the woman on the other line, before squealing once the call cut off.
this was it.
so now you were packing up your life in order to move into a new place, into dr. wyndham’s place. god it felt surreal to even say it like that.
you put everything else you saw in your line of sight into the luggage, screw that checklist.
you flipped the top over, hands pushing it down a great amount before the zipper sewed it seamlessly closed.
you got into bed, velvet covers caressing your colder skin.
tonight was the last night you lived in a place that harboured your bleak past, and you were officially moving on.
for real this time.
after running those thoughts through your head continuously, as if you were some kind of broken record, your lids fell heavy and you fell asleep.
your alarm didn’t spare anyone, not even you at 5am.
your eyes widened when you came to the realization that it was, in fact, five in the morning.
fuck. you were going to be late.
you hopped out of bed, covers hanging by your legs and almost tripping you over but you quickly untangled yourself from the clinging sheets and walked into the open bathroom, turning the faucet on. you ran to your drawers, throwing out the one outfit you’d left inside of them, for this very moment.
the wide leg jeans fell onto your unmade bed first, followed by a tight white top and some ruined converse shoes.
after getting all ready, you lugged your bags out of your small apartment and into your even smaller car.
cheers to never seeing this place again.
your hand slid under the car door’s handle, pushing the heavy door open whilst your other hand held onto the overly heavy luggage— now you were contemplating unpacking but you knew you weren’t coming back.
was it a bit senseless? sure it was, you were able to acknowledge that upfront.
could you have also spent a little more time doing research so you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into instead of impulsively accepting? of course you could have.
you shook the tinge of unease away, you weren’t about to second guess yourself when you’d already made it out the door.
the soft plush of the leather car shifts holds your weight, your finger pressing the ‘start’ button next to the wheel. you turned on the one podcast you’d been listening to every night— in hopes of settling into a fresh start (and least that’s what you’d been telling yourself to feel better)
when dr. wyndham’s voice filled your ears, you knew it couldn’t have been a coincidence. this rental was meant for you.
throughout the car ride you had learned a thing or two from the intelligent woman, not that you doubted that in the first place.
she was brilliant, one of the best actually.
her melodious voice came out through your car’s speakers.
“people don’t need fixing, what they need is somebody who can understand them. there is nothing to fix when someone is fully understood”
your lips curved upwards at her comment, you were so lucky.
and maybe, just maybe, she could help you too.
your tires scratched under the gravel in her driveway, the modern mansion an astounding upgrade from your stuffy, tight spaced apartment. you parked your car before hauling your bags out, huffing from the strength you’d had to exert. god, why did you have so many things?
a sharp tone took you out from your thoughts, startling you. so much so that you even jumped a bit.
her succulent laughter drifted past your ears, and was that tom ford? she smelled wonderful.
“good morning y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” her polished hand slid out to shake yours, her nails painted nude but no ring on her finger.
you dropped your bags and shook her hand immediately, “nice to meet you. i’m ecstatic, this is like, well a dream. you have no idea.”
oh, but she did.
dr. keira wyndham was a slender and tall woman in her late thirties, auburn hair slicked back into a french twist with not a strand out of place, her makeup was effortlessly applied it looked like she wasn’t wearing any, and her glasses rested on the bridge of her nose— black rimmed squares that suited her extremely well. her slim face was soft with sharp edges, coming into harmony with two celadon eyes and light pink lips that were naturally plump.
she was gorgeous.
the woman cleared her throat, “is that alright?”
you blinked, drifting out of your thoughts, “oh, of course.” you had no idea what you’d just agreed to, but you figured it couldn’t have been that bad. probably something about the way you liked your steak cooked.
you turned to pick up your bags, her red bottom heels clicking away and back into the house. when she saw you struggling, she only laughed, “leave that there sweetheart, lara will take care of it.”
you held onto it for a moment longer, before deciding it was better to follow what she was asking of you than to continue pulling onto a bag that weighed much more than it let on.
seriously, how many things did you put in there?
you jogged up to her side, the doors swinging open almost instantly. “welcome home.” lara said, her eyes casting downwards. now lara, lara was stunning. you had never seen her, not in pictures, she was just a name. and to finally put a face to it was more than you could ever ask for. “go pick up her bags, they’re by that awfully grotesque mazda.”
you would be lying if you said that didn’t sting.
but she was right, it wasn’t the best looking car— okay, it was far from looking even remotely close to a car. but why did it matter? it had been through a lot with you.
keira clapped her hands together, the lights turning themselves on, your face was aghast, this place was amazing. “there are a few ground rules i’d like to go over with you. i don’t enjoy tenants who go looking around to find things— this is my home, not a venue. and i fully intend for you to respect that knowing this offer was granted to you. it’s best if you keep in your room as you would in any other miserable apartment” you nod in understanding, that was completely reasonable, you were just a stranger in her very expensive home. had someone stolen something of hers before? you were sure it had happened at least once.
“you are not to bother any of the staff, they get paid to work not to converse with others.” she dipped her voice an octave lower, as if trying to keep away from prying ears. “i especially expect you to keep away from ms. raj, she is my personal assistant and will not be selling any information away so don’t even think about it. if i see any sort of transaction, or overly friendly conversation going on between you two, it will be over for you right then. understood?”
you nod again, this time in less understanding. you knew that she had good intentions though, she always did.
lara walked down the stairs, and for a second you hadn’t realized how immersed in her rule talk you’d been. how fast did she get that bag up there?
“your room is ready ma’am.”
“perfect, shall we take a look?”
you smiled in agreement, the two of you wandering up the spiral staircase as lara stayed behind. the stairs felt like they went on forever, you were sick of the marble swirls implanted on each one. after what felt like an eternity, you made it to the very top, where the landing was barely a platform.
three doors surrounded the small platform, one on the right, the left, and in front of you.
“i know it’s crowded, we couldn’t do anything about it during the renovations.”
you smiled at her attempt to explain, “oh no, it’s wonderful.”
she unlocked the door on the left, the hinges squeaking and the wood hitting back on the door next to it.
as soon as you entered, you’d forgotten all about the small platform and swinging doors, because the room you stepped into was sublime.
the walls were a pretty lilac, and it was bigger than any apartment you’d ever stepped foot in. the doorway to the bathroom was arched, with an enormous bathtub and shower, the sink faucet was decked out in gold.
that wasn’t even the best part, the bed itself was bigger than your last apartment entirely, and it looked amazingly comfortable. “of course you may decorate it as you like, excuse me for the plainness of the room at the moment, but i did have the chance to at least offer you some complimentary flowers.” you turned your head to the dainty bedside table, and the singular vase that held exactly five pink dahlias inside.
your favourite.
“they’re your favourite, aren’t they?”
“thank you,” and with that she stepped out, leaving you alone.
her words were supposed to be sweet, she meant well.
so why couldn’t you shake off that same uneasy feeling? was it because fresh starts always warranted a bit of worrying?
or was it because you couldn’t recall a time you’d ever told dr. keira wyndham what your favourite flowers were.
