#because if it's genuine then imagine the misery and loneliness she's faced all her life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soukokuwu · 4 years

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OSAMU DAZAI

IMAGINE

》 angst, definitely (dazai x reader)

》 trigger warnings! death, delusions, accidents

》 word count: 1.3k

》 feeling horrible translates into inspiration so i indulged myself- a shorter one this time round, please... enjoy?

“always pining for what we can’t have”

“I don’t want to, but thanks.”

You shut the door, glad to finally be back after an entire night out. You looked at the digital clock on your nightstand.

6.34am

You sighed. It’s been a long night out. You switched on the lights and found Dazai groggily rubbing his eyes, sitting up on the bed. Your face lightened up upon seeing his, a feature that never escaped his notice.

“What was that about?” he asked, referring to your earlier exchange.

“My mother called, asked if I wanted to go home for Christmas,” you explained, flinging your car keys onto your study desk and climbing into bed next to him. You wrapped the blanket around the both of you, hands tightening their hold around him.

“Weird, you haven’t gone home for years and she’s never asked. Why now?” Dazai questioned.

Ignoring his question, all you managed was a “it’s not weird.”

Dazai knew you well enough not to press on the matter any longer. He returned your hug, letting you bury your head in his chest. “Did my baby have a long night?”

“As usual. Today was a bust, I didn’t find any inspiration. Maybe you should come with me some time.”

“I wish I could, belladonna.”

You were a writer, and it’s been a few months since you’ve lost all motivation to write. You simply couldn’t find interest in anything. You had been wallowing in self-pity for a while before deciding you should probably actively seek out an inspiration instead of moping in your room all day.

Late night drives were your go-to. It was nicer in the night- everything was dark, and quieter than the day. It was also windy and the night sky would be full of stars. It never failed to remind you of the night you first met Dazai.

“You thinking of the night we met again?”

You scoffed and looked up at the man beside you. “You always know what I’m thinking about, don’t you?”

“Of course, you are my belladonna after all,” Dazai pointed out, booping your nose. “I remember too. I was just walking back home after drinking at the bar. And you were sitting next to the river being all sad.” He laughed affectionately while recounting the memory, his hand stroking your hair at the same time.

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, further burying your head into his chest. You had been upset over your previous breakup that night and were just crying alone when Dazai spotted you. No matter how long it’s been since then it still made you cringe. What a pathetic way to meet your next lover, crying over your old one.

As you caught the unfamiliar, almost musty smell in your nose, you pushed Dazai away, wincing. He looked at you in surprise, pulling away. “What’s wrong, belladonna?”

After a long pause, you let out a long sigh, eyes still closed. “Dazai?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for always protecting me.”

“I always will, my belladonna.”

Another pause.

“Dazai?”

“What is it?”

The tears were finding their way out. Your mother’s scream echoed in your head, “Stop deluding yourself!”

“You’re just a figment of my imagination...”

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

A few months earlier.

A screech.

Hands grabbed onto your head, enveloping your body with their’s. Warmth enveloped you. You were safely protected.

Ans then the world went black.

The next thing you saw was the bright light on the ceiling, the only sounds you heard being the beeping of monitors. You tried to move, but it hurt. It hurt everywhere.

You took a deep breath, but it felt weird. You glanced downwards and saw a ventilator.

What?

Panic set in you and the beeping got faster. Someone you didn’t recognise ran into the room, trying to hold you down as you tried to resist her.

It took a while before you would calm down enough to listen. The nurse who had been holding you down earlier was now jotting down your vitals. A doctor was beside her, inspecting the paper on his clipboard.

You glanced at the wall clock.

6.34am

The doctor tried telling you about your own condition, but you cut him off. Then you asked him the only thing you had been thinking of since you woke up, “Where’s Dazai?”

ıllıllııllıllı

One week later, you were taking a last look at him before they closed it. You barely blinked as you watched them slide the coffin into the cremation chamber, your face devoid of emotion. You had cried enough earlier, there no more tears left for now.

The fire burned strong and bright. It was probably the longest one and a half hours of your life.

He was gone. He was really gone.

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

Now here you were, on the bed. Without him. You were lying to yourself, as you always have.

This was why your mother asked if you wanted to go back this year. Because she heard what happened. But you didn’t want to spend time with people who didn’t make you feel at home.

This was why you lost all your inspiration for your work. He had taken over the role of your muse ever since you knew him, and you could find nothing else better. Your passion for writing somehow died with him.

The tears wouldn’t stop. The way he always called you ‘my belladonna’ kept playing in your head. You were wrong. The aftermath of the car crash wasn’t ‘hurt’.

This hurt. Remembering hurt. Living hurt.

‘Anything you wouldn’t want to lose would be lost’, huh?

You opened your eyes. And this time, you truly opened them. He wasn’t there. Your eyes fell on the urn beside the bed.

Osamu. There he was. In ashes.

Then your eyes shifted their focus. Where you saw Dazai earlier, the silhouette faded, back into the giant fox doll you always hugged to sleep. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. And how you hated it.

This had been your life ever since he passed. You always came back home with the delusion he was alive, talking to the air as though he was there. But it never was, no matter how clearly you could hear his voice in your head. And sometimes you knew that. Other times you donned a mask of ignorance.

You thought back about earlier, how pathetic you must’ve looked. If people could see you, they’d probably be laughing at you. Talking to thin air, hugging a musty old doll tightly thinking it was him, burying your head in the softness as though it could even replace him. It didn’t even smell like him. How you missed his touch, his smell, the sound of his laugh, the affection in his voice when he talked to you.

“What’s wrong with me?” you screamed, kicking the doll away out of frustration. It landed on the other side of the room, lying next to a box of Dazai’s stuff.

You could hardly contain your emotions as you remembered keeping his belongings after the cremation. People told you discarding his items would make you feel better, a metaphor for being able to ‘let things go’.

But no. No fucking way. How could you? It was the last of him you’d ever have, aside from his ashes. How do they expect you to be able to do that?

You never felt at home with anyone else but him. You had a sad excuse for a family, and ‘friends’ who weren’t ever genuine by a mile. You thought the same of him at first, but you got to know the man behind the mask and you loved every part of him. Every suicidal, cynical, brutally honest part of him. He had been your one and only. He was your best friend, your lover, your future, and your home. And god knows how long you spent in your life searching for a home.

You finally found a place you belonged- with Dazai. But now he was gone. Trying to protect you. You cursed the drunk driver who had crashed into your cab. And then you cursed your late lover for trying to protect you when he should’ve saved himself. You remembered how long and hard you cried on the day of his cremation, his remains in an urn pressed against your chest as you wallowed in the misery. It was a lonely feeling, not coming back home to the usually perky Dazai smothering you with affection. Now all that waited for you was emptiness.

I’d rather be dead with you, Osamu. Why did you leave me behind?

Tonight, for the first time after he passed, you left the doll on the floor, crying yourself to sleep alone, in the cold bed, feeling lonelier than ever.

You were truly alone now. Just like you used to be.

“hush little baby, don’t say a word”

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cloudynames · 5 years

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Tangerines

hello everyone!! im so excited for this story im releasing hehe~ i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. happy new years as well!! i hope 2019 brings you all good health and fortune

Word Count: 3,965

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Suicide, mental health issues

lets get it

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“T-Taeyong! I’m sorry to bother you but I couldn’t help it seeing you here! I’ve loved you for a long time even before we were friends. I would be honored if you accepted my confession…”

Taeyong nervously rubbed the nape of his neck and shook his head side to side, giving a pitiful smile to the girl in front of him, “Sorry, I’m not interested in relationships...”

That was an awkward trip to the grocery store.

When Taeyong arrived home that night, he cracked open a can of beer, almost downing the whole drink in one go. It was the same thing as the day before. Taeyong probably even couldn’t count how many times he’s been confessed to this month. Quite honestly, he was tired of it.

He always lived a lonely life, having only a few friends. Taeyong couldn’t even imagine the burden of having a relationship. Commitment and someone depending on him? He would never be cut out for it. It’s fine though.

The voice in his head tells him he doesn’t need anyone.

He snaps out of his daydream of him reflecting on his incredibly boring life and stares at the clock hanging in his living room. Eyes widening, he rushes to his work table and begins to work on his newest project. This customer wanted her piece done in three days. Although it was quite small, he wanted to perfect it. Just like how everything should be, perfect.

Taeyong found his love for sculpture while he was taking the class as an elective in college. His teacher captivated him with her expressive phrases and terms as she described how it wasn’t as simple as molding a few blocks together. She explained that with a single tap of a hammer or pushing down one's finger to hard, a whole project can go to waste. He loved the risk of failure, the complexity, and especially the feeling of perfection in one of his artworks.

Halfway through his semester, he changed his major to sculpture from financing. His parents were more than supportive when they realized how passionate their son was about his newfound passion. Taeyong made sure he paid them back with the first few paychecks he received from his pieces. Soon enough, he became very popular for his works and people were begging for him to take commissions from the famous Taeyong of Seoul.

He leaned back in chair and placed the clay robin in the mini tabletop oven. Setting it on the lowest setting, he contacted the buyer, telling her that the piece was done and she could pick it up the next day.

In the hot, early morning, a rapid tapping comes from Taeyong’s front door. Still buttoning his clean, baby blue shirt, he opens the door and gives a kind smile to the woman.

She moves over to the display table Taeyong had displayed previously and she examines the sculpture. Not receiving a response immediately, Taeyong grew nervous. Does she hate it?

Suddenly, she glances up and grins. “It’s perfect for our anniversary. Thank you.”

Soon she was on her way and Taeyong had an envelope filled with his pay. It was quite a lot for such a small project, so much that he could live a few days just on that one check. He was feeling bored nearing the afternoon of that day so he strolled over to his computer and waited for it to stir and flicker with life.

His eyes scroll over numerous emails and requests, typing out responses to those he can’t take. Either he didn’t liked the idea or feel motivated but it was most latter. One email stood out in particular and he cocks his eyebrow in surprise. Had he already found something that had interested him with only a few minutes of searching?

Two things jumped out at him: the email was sent by Seo Johnny, CEO of a technology company, and that it was very, very open ended.

The requirements were simply as followed: ‘I desire a sculpture of a beautiful lover. However, I want it to be in the beautiful in the eye of the artist. Please have it done by the end of next month. Thank you.’

Taeyong swiftly typed out a response and he wearily sighed. What did a beautiful lover look to him?

Never being in love before, his head searched for answers but ultimately ended up frustrated. He doesn’t know what beauty looks like! As he thought more and more about his most recent project, the answer became clear.

He found sculpture beautiful.

Drawing up a quick diagram of what the sculpture would look like, he stopped once he needed to draw the face. Pursing his lips, he drew two dots for eyes and a line for the mouth. He would worry about that later.

Grabbing some wire, he started to shape the body of his sculpture. He knew this project would take more time than the rest of his pieces since it would come directly from his heart.

Watching the inner cask dry, he rolled over to his computer and very pathetically typed in, ‘beautiful people.’

Faces of men and women appeared of all different races. Bored, he scrolled in that google search bar for what seemed like forever. Nothing interested him and he supposes nothing will ever. Taeyong didn’t want to live life alone for he would be an outcast in society. However, he didn’t want to marry whoever had a decent enough face.

In the back of his mind, something screams at him that it’s better to be alone.

Taeyong agrees.

The next day, Taeyong stares at his creation, wondering how to fulfill the wishes of the customer. He sighs and grabs a handful of clay, almost slapping it harshly onto the cask. Covering the cask to create bumpy shapes, he bites his lip in contemplation.

He hates going for it without a definite plan, but he’s going for it.

After five harsh hours of cutting, shaping, and smoothing, he had formed the base of the body. Taeyong begin to detail the head, forming hair from his wire end tool. He tried to imagine the sculpture in motion, someone joyful and engaging.

Someone incredibly different to him.

His nimble fingers worked tirelessly as they became numb to the pain of being in such awkward positions. Shaking the cramps out from his hand, he formed lines for a mouth and nose. He continued to work that night.

And the next.

Soon enough, he had finished the curves and perfections within his project and his taste had been satisfied. Taeyong genuinely thought what he created was beautiful, more graceful than any woman or man could be. His fingers grazed the surface of the clay shoulder and he shuddered at the warm feeling that flowed from his head to his toes. Taking a thumb, he brushed over the plump, luscious lips. It was simply perfection.

A small crack destroyed that image of quality just after he removed his thumb and saw a small crack had surfaced. Gasping loudly, he worked hurriedly to fill the crack before any more damage had been done.

Maybe perfection wasn’t achievable. He was a fool for thinking so.

With the notion of a deep, lulling sadness in his chest, he fell on his bed. The voices in his head tell at him that nothing would be perfect ever and that he should accept that his life was lonely. For the first time in the entire twenty-three years of misery, he longed for someone to touch.

The sense of loneliness did not leave the next morning but amplified. Rolling over and reaching out for something to grab but ending up with nothing tore him apart.

Grumbling, he rose from his bed and patted over to his statue. A shriek left his throat as he hyper-analyzed the small cracks scattered upon the figure. He tapped them lightly, lighter than a feather hitting the ground, and almost fainted when the cracks began to grow bigger. With blurry eyes, he shakily grasped onto a scraper and embarked on his journey to repair his model. His calloused fingers treated the imperfections with the filling clay to cover his mistakes. Taeyong was on the brink of a mental breakdown with silent tears streaming down his face, watching his most wonderful work slowly come apart.

His chest heaved heavily with pain and anxiety even after he had fixed everything. He suspected something was wrong with his mixture and he threw out every ingredient he owned that went into making the concoction. Shopping would be joyful the next day.

He went to go make himself a small breakfast after the traumatic experience. Coming back with a plate of toast and a tangerine, he nearly dropped his food when he saw the hand of his statue slowly stretch and move its hand. Taeyong blinked once, twice—even three times as he tried to comprehend what was happening. The plate was left on the table and he was tucked right back into bed. This entire situation was happening because he was tired, right? There was no way that a statue can come alive and wiggle its fingers like a toddler.

Taeyong nearly forgot the incident as he stretched and looked over at his clock which read, ‘1:27.’

Slowly and carefully, he approached his workspace, not looking in front of him. Opening his eyes, he fell onto the ground harshly and scooted back to the nearest wall in distress.

In front of him was a gorgeous and very human person, blinking and showing off their body to the whole world.

“Oh my god!” Taeyong screamed while the beautiful person in front of him blinked, confusion spreading upon their face.

Taeyong could barely think but he connected his thoughts together to make some sort of plan. He grabbed an old shirt and sweatpants, blushing profusely as he handed them to the person in front of them. They stared at it and before Taeyong could leave, they latched onto his arm. He had never shaken so much as he clothed them, sliding the baggy shirt over their head.

He wondered how he was a known artist but most recently became a babysitter for someone definitely not a child. Watching them as they played with their soup, he sighed.

What had he gotten himself into? More importantly, how did his carving become a human when yesterday you were a pile of clay?

Taeyong would find out throughout the night that they couldn’t form coherent sentences so he gave them a crash course on language. To be fair, you didn’t have comprehension of anything. He was just glad you were a quick learner. Supernatural could explain your abilities. You grasped onto concepts better than a baby even though you had never been exposed to such things. Peeping at the clock while the two of you were studying, he decided to call it for the night. He had shoved you into his room that night and you sat there pouting with big eyes.

Taeyong closed the door quietly and laid on his uncomfortable couch. At least he had some time before the statue was due or he would’ve been screwed. Not noticing when he drifted off to sleep, he was startled when he heard the creaking of his familiar bedroom door. He shut his eyes tightly until he heard the light breath of another’s presence.

Carefully, he peeked open his eyes and saw you kneeling on the ground, staring at him with a deep look.

“Y-Yes?”

“I want Taeyong.”

His face was definitely on fire by now.

“What do you want me to do?”

A pout was still graced on your lips, “Sleep.”

He let you grab his large hand in your small one, dragging you to the bed. You laid down stiffly, looking at the ceiling. He chuckled and snaked his arm under you, forcing you to curl into his side. Taeyong didn’t know he could be so suave.

“Better?”

“Better.”

The little quirks that Taeyong discovered made him slowly forget the fact that you were clay and that you were more human than a masterpiece. Yes, you might have incredibly hard skin and for that reason Taeyong was extra careful to not possibly cause a crack. It was your personality and emotions that caused you to be a completely different essence.

He noticed how you would pout whenever he left him for too long but that smile instantly returns once he comes back. You loved the taste of tangerines but you hated peeling them. Sometimes you would blow at your hair to get it out of your eyes and every single time Taeyong saw this, his heart leapt a little.

Taeyong was slowly falling for you. He wasn’t stupid though. Conversations between himself and his head made sure that he knew he was to be shunned from society if anyone knew his dirty secret for he was cruelly in love with a creation of his perfection. No matter how loud the voices got, he ignored them and continued to fall for you. Never did he want his feelings to slip towards you, especially since he knows you’ve been watching dramas.

He observed you play with your dinner, something you haven’t done since the first night you transformed.

“What’s wrong?” He softly asked, putting down his chopsticks. You bit your lip, opening your mouth then closing tightly.

“Why does everyone have a name? Do I have a name?” You quietly questioned and Taeyong could hear the quick scrapes against the floor while you kicked nervously. He made sure to add that onto his list of ever growing affections.

“Well... No. You don’t have a name.” Taeyong chose his words carefully and the voices in his head keep screaming ‘danger’ at him for making such a silly mistake.

Tears welled up in your eyes and you breathed out, “I want a name.”

Taeyong rushed to your side and wiped away the tears, staining your ceramic face. He coos and brings your head to his chest, fingers finding their way through your hair.

“Don’t cry, we can still give you a name.” He smiles, gazing down at you. Sniffling, you gawk at him, eyes twinkling with happiness.

“R-Really?”

He chuckled, rubbing your backside. “Of course. I think {y/n} would be a perfect fit, do you?”

A wide grin spreads on your face and you hug Taeyong tighter than ever before. “I love it!”

Taeyong wishes he could be the one you love.

His daily routine had been morphed and suddenly you were included in everything. He taught you how to do simple clay models, helping when you couldn’t mold it correctly to your liking. You learned little things Taeyong loved as well like how he needed to have a cup of green tea with every meal. You definitely felt something in your chest whenever he smiled and excusing yourself, you head to the bathroom to soothe your aching chest. Nothing could explain the feeling except what those dramas told you which was love.

It made you feel hot and sweaty yet high all at the same time. The feeling made you want to grab onto Taeyong’s hand and hold it longer than usual or to feel his kisses planted everywhere on your body. You wanted a declaration of love. The girls on the television would have their cheeks painted pink as the boy shouted his feelings towards them, infuriating you because that’s all you could ever desire with Taeyong.

Taeyong knew he couldn’t hide his unproclaimed love for you. He knew it was wrong, but it felt so sinful and right to innocently hold you. The aspiration of wanting more sat in his stomach ever since he started to fall for you and he wasn’t planning on pushing you away anytime soon.

Later on an unknown date while working on a small piece, he heard the oh-so familiar patting of feet moving towards him. He grinned to himself, wiping his hands with a hand towel before turning around and seeing your surprisingly energetic face.

“I can’t sleep.”

Taeyong snickered and knocked on the seat next to him. “How come I knew you were going to say that?”

You giggled and took a seat next to him, analyzing his newest piece. “What is it?”

“Ah, this is a turtle.” Taeyong remarks, pushing two tiny dots on the surface to make beady eyes.

You hum in response and tap your fingers on the table. You open your mouth, “Can I help?”

Taeyong nods and rises from his seat, letting you take his. Nervously, you waited for further instruction.

“Let’s mold the legs. Turtles have four so we’ll need to make four that seem similar enough to each other.”

He showed you how to make the first one, trying to use words you’ve come across and not including difficult technical words.

Your hands weren’t used to shaping the clay so naturally you became more frustrated as yours didn’t look similar to Taeyong’s. You tried making the base wider like his but it seemed like the clay disappeared in your hands.

“Let me help you.”

His hands covered yours instantly and you could feel every vein in your body pounding. He was so close to the point where you could smell his cologne and feel his wet breaths coating the back of your neck. Goosebumps covered your entire body since nothing like this has ever happened before.

You didn’t even noticed when he finished helping you create the leg until he patted you on the shoulder. Gaping up at him, you feel your eyes being absorbed into his. The way his hair was messy from hands running through it and a tiny scar near his right eye captivated you. He was truly perfection. If there was a god in this world, he spent all his time working on Taeyong, his greatest masterpiece.

Taeyong blushed as he looked into your eyes. They were sparkling with adoration. He has seen this scene countless of times with numerous men and women who confessed to him. However, a new question arises. Would he accept you?

He was the one who came crashing down on your face. Taking your smooth face into his hands and tilting your chin up, he kissed you. It was so soft and delicate that one would’ve not even noticed they were getting kissed. You tasted like the tangerines you had for a snack and him like his daily cup of coffee. The surface of his lips were hard and chapped from the continuous biting while yours were as smooth as hardened clay (which you were). Desperately, your lips wanted more. Yet as quickly as Taeyong let you in, he backed out, giving you a shy smile.

“Sorry, you looked too cute not to kiss.”

His days were now complete as he found himself adapting to be your lover. He kissed you, hugged you, and made you feel like the most expensive frame in any museum. The budding seed of a romantic relationship had formed and Taeyong couldn’t help but water it.

Deep, evil voices in his head told him it wouldn’t last for long.

Oh, how they were right.

Giggling, Taeyong placed you on the kitchen counter, lips attacking every inch of your neck.

“Baby… You’re so cute.” He murmured, nibbling on your tough ear and immediately receiving a toothache from it. Taeyong ignores the pain and presses himself closer to you, forehead against yours.

“Can we watch a movie today?” You request, hands brushing his cheekbones.

Taeyong nods and straightens. “I’ll go pick out a movie.” He turns, already moving to grab a DVD from his collection.

“Can I join?”

Your hand had already latched out to grab his and you weren’t ready for his sudden, sharp movements. Slipping, you crash into the ground.

A shatter fills the room and Taeyong twists around, horrified. Once was his lover was now a mess of clay and dust, coating every inch of the floorboards.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Taeyong wails, falling to the ground urgently and pulls every piece he could grab together. Cuts broke his skin and his blood mixed with the remains of once a magnificent masterpiece. The voices become mocking as they laugh at his anguish. His head, dizzy with desperation, falls against the ground. A howl forms within his throat and he pushes it back down. He makes fists with his hand, digging into the cuts and he punches his thighs.

“Don’t worry baby, don’t worry. I can fix this! Yeah, I can!” Taeyong scrambles to his workstation and grabs whatever supplies he can find. He molds uneven shapes, hands stuttering with every move. His mind is filled with worry and pain, not being able to remember which steps he took to design you, his love and the only love he’ll ever want. After not being able to recreate your eye shape, he moans and throws the wad of clay, splattering it all over the cabinets. He rocks himself back and forth on the cold ground, banging on the floor repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do it.” He bawls, wiping at his face.

The one person he ever loved was gone, all because of a mistake. Broken was the only word that could describe how his emotions were. The whispering became louder and soon it was the only thing he could listen to. Nothing mattered anymore. He was bound to be lonely forever. What was the point? To continue to live life lonely and to spend the rest of his days thinking about the one who got away?

Grabbing a bottle of pills, he empties the contents down his throat. For a minute, nothing happened. He was simply just waiting for his suffering to come. It hit him as a shortness of breath and his head being foggy. He couldn’t remember what he was doing or what was happening. Laying his head on the floor and his body following, he stared at the ceiling. An abdominal pain struck him at the side, crunching his body. He closes his eyes and hoped this nightmare would end.

And so it did.

———————-

Taeil looked at the police report again, hands brushing through his hair as he stretched out his back. His eyes widened at the name, recognizing it instantly. The victim’s name was Lee Taeyong, the man who created something for his sister-in-law for her wedding gift.

His eyes scanned through the paper until he reached what he wanted to know. Had he been suffering with mental health this entire time?

‘Cause of death: Suicide

Found by: CEO of Seo Enterprises, Seo Johnny. He had requested to see how far his commission had come along when he found Lee Taeyong on the floor with no pulse and broken clay surrounding his body. This was about two days after this death.

Mental state: Lee Taeyong has been struggling with mental health all throughout his life. His parents have notified the police that he did, in fact, have severe depression. His mother was worried as well that he might have inherited psychosis from his father’s side as it was genetic. This would explain the background check with his parents when they told investigative forces about how he would hear people in his head. Friends of Lee Taeyong could also testify of him hearing these voices’

Taeil looked out the rainy window and closed the case file. How cruel the world was that it would take away such a young, inspiring person.

He checked the time and saw it was time for his snack. Pulling out a bag, he grabbed a tangerine and continued to work on case files, writing up reports.

Biting into a slice, he groaned, “Aw, this one is bitter!”

#NCT #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct headcanon #nct 127 #nct u #nct lee taeyong #lee taeyong #nct 2019 #writing #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop headcanons #taeyong

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Hypnotized Ch.2 (Trixya)

AN- Thank you guys for the super-duper nice response I got from chapter one. This one is from Katya’s POV, and I decided to skip calling them ‘Brian and Brian’ just for the sake of not confusing myself, haha. Also, TW- Mentions of drug addiction and thoughts of weight loss. I think that’s it. Please excuse me if I missed anything. Happy readings, my doves!

Katya wondered whether or not he would ever have those feelings of wanting to ‘jump on pink clouds and shit diamonds’, or, what saner people than himself would describe as love. He had never been in a serious relationship with anyone, unless you counted the girlfriends he had before he was officially out of the closet. He loved them dearly, but even then, if you were to disregard the fact that he wasn’t really into women – he still felt a sense of wanting to get away whenever someone would get too close to him. That had coloured the rest of his dating life in the aspect of him only getting laid on occasion, but never meeting a solid boyfriend.

He had endured several conversations with his mother on why that was, because all she really wanted for him was to find someone that could carry him forward when he didn’t have the strength to do it for himself. Where he saw opportunities to live his life on his own premises, she saw bitter loneliness. When he laid in bed, really having to get up to meet Alaska in approximately two hours, he stayed under his sheets – trying to find an answer as to why he had functioned the way that he had for his entire adult life. He guessed that his depression and social anxiety had always played a big part in it. He was the type of person that could really be described as an introvert. Sure, he had made a career out of preforming in packed clubs and bars, but the price he had to pay for that he made up for abundantly in being alone when he got home. If he had a boyfriend, his personal space would be severely compromised. He had seen that possibility with quite a few men in his time, but since it hadn’t ever gone somewhere – it seemed unnecessary to dwell on it.

Then there was of course, his addiction. He had spent so much time being ashamed of who he was – and frankly, not really seeing a way out of his self-made misery. Being a drug addict wasn’t fun, which was of course pretty obvious to anyone that didn’t do drugs, but when he had looked himself in a mirror and realized that he was deteriorating before his very eyes; that was when he knew that he had to change. This time, it would be for good. He wanted to be someone that at the very least stood a chance of finding happiness, but as it turns out, the remnants of his addiction would forever be lurking by his side.

At the end of the day, he simply had no idea how anyone could stand to be around him as much as a relationship required. That was of course, before he had met the ever so fabulous Trixie Mattel. Whilst they were shooting Drag Race, they had gotten increasingly closer. Brian would lurk around in the hallway of their hotel, waiting for his friend to sneak him into his room. They would gossip about the other queens, Katya would talk about his life – and there it was, the blooming friendship that they had turned into a business opportunity.

He had known quite early on that he was attracted to the younger man, but had dismissed it as just wanting to fuck him. Nothing had ever prepared him for the bomb that was to come, when he had realized that there was so much more than just horniness that lurked within his chaotic mind.

“Okay, if we’re definitely sharing a bed – I want to apologize in advance for any snoring or sleep talking.” Trixie chuckled before he slipped under the sheets of their large bed. Katya had already crept under there, having wrapped a towel over his otherwise naked body before he had laid down. There was nothing like taking a shower after a gig and then slipping into a big, comfy bed.

“I’ll have to warn you as well mother, underneath this damp towel, I am completely naked.” Katya replied in his ‘Maureen’-voice that always made Trixie giggle. This time, he snorted and laughed tiredly. “I’m literally so tired that I don’t even care. Just don’t accidentally slip it in when I’m sleeping.”

This made Katya wheeze with laughter as he imagined that particular scenario in his head. He turned in the bed so he was facing Trixie, a wide smirk on his face. “This is the time where we’re supposed to share secrets and express radical religious values.”

Trixie turned around to face him as well, brown eyes meeting blue ones. They were both leaning down on their hands, which probably made the entire situation seem more innocent than it actually was. They had shared a bed before, which had never been a problem since nothing had ever happened. But this time, something seemed different. Katya could see in Trixie’s eyes that he was up to something. That same objectivity that he usually treated Katya with seemed to be gone, based on the looks that he was giving him; they were alluring and curious.

“Okay, I’ll play. I thought you looked really beautiful tonight.” Trixie murmured, which made Katya blush involuntarily.

“Well, thank you. The elderly hag still has some game.” Katya joked, trying to lighten the mood. He knew that getting into something with Trixie probably wasn’t the best idea. Then again, he had never been one to deny himself anything. So, whatever invitation he thought he got, it was in his nature to be drawn towards it.

“Could you cuddle me? I’m feeling lonely and desperate.” Trixie asked, making Katya furrow her brows. He knew that it might turn out to be a bad idea, but nonetheless, he opened his arms up and let the other Brian crawl into his embrace. Trixie leaned his head underneath Katya’s chin and sighed with contentment when Katya let his arm drape over him and draw him close to his chest. “Are you trying to wife me up? Because it’s working.” He mumbled, not so much an innocent question as it was an attempt to decipher what was happening.

“I don’t know if I could marry someone with so much integrity and grace – I’d feel inadequate.” Trixie replied with a snort, her usual dry sense of humour returning. Katya smiled to himself and drew the queen closer to him. “Go to sleep before you use up all of your big words, you cunt.” He muttered before dozing off.

He woke again when he felt a small hand drawing circles on his hip. He peeked one eye open and saw that Trixie had leaned back, now staring right at him with big, dark eyes. “Fuck, you scared me.” He gasped, wanting to know what was worth nearly giving him a heart attack. He had always been very skittish and extremely wired, so the slightest thing threatened to make him jump out of his skin.

“I just want to try something.” Trixie replied huskily, and then started to lean in. Katya stared in awe at his friend as he got closer and closer, not really knowing what to do. The only thing he did know for certain was that he did not want to deny himself some intimacy, so when Brian Firkus’s lips touched his own, he immediately kissed him back with equal fervour. The kiss was short, but incredibly sweet. When Trixie pulled away, Katya immediately missed his touch. “What was that for?” he inquired, a thin brow cocked to mark his confusion.

Trixie rolled his eyes and then leaned in to press another chaste kiss to his friend’s lips. He pulled away just enough in order to murmur quietly: “I really need this right now.”

That was all he needed to hear. They spent the following hour just lying there in each other’s arms, kissing and giggling. It was a wonderful evening, but they didn’t speak of it the next day. There wasn’t any need to; they knew that it was just a matter of two friend’s enjoying the company of one another when there wasn’t any trade around to fill that position. Just two friends. Nothing more.

Over time, Katya had begun to get more and more attached. He knew that he shouldn’t have let Trixie kiss him the other day, but he was still unable to deny that man anything. He genuinely hoped that they would have a real chance of trying to figure out what they were once Jack was out of the picture. He had nothing against Trixie’s boyfriend, in fact, it was quite the contrary. He actually liked the guy. Had he not, he would have let the plastic fantasy have his way with him, right there in his own hallway. But that wasn’t who Brian McCook was anymore, it couldn’t be. So there he was, twenty-four hours had passed, and he was still waiting for a confirmation that they were good to go. Trixie had sent him a text, saying that he had to wait until Jack got back from work. How it had turned out, Katya had no idea. He honestly didn’t know what to do if it didn’t work out in his favour this time around.

After he had dragged his body out of bed, managed to throw on a pair of clean black jeans and his ‘Madonna’ t-shirt, he headed out of the door to meet Alaska. They had agreed to meet up at the closest Starbucks as they had a lot of formalities to go through with their podcast. Katya was enjoying the fact that he got to do all sorts of things after being on TV, but it felt strange to be involved in something with a brand new person. Alaska wasn’t new in his life per se, but they had never worked together in anything other than drag shows. Well, there was always that time where he lost the crown to her, ‘but that’s neither here nor there’ he thought to himself with a smirk. As he strutted down the streets, he lit up a cigarette to take a few puffs as he headed towards his target.

Alaska, or Justin, was already there when Katya arrived. He had no idea why anyone would say that Justin wasn’t attractive as a man. He loved Alaska dearly and thought she was sexy as hell, but Justin had this confident aura that Katya envied. “Hello there creature of the night.” Katya greeted his friend as he sat down at the small, outdoor table that Alaska had picked out for them. Katya smiled as she saw a barista approaching them with two huge Frappuccino’s. His friend knew him too well. “I figured that I might as well just order for you. You’ve gotten so skinny lately I feel like shoving straight up fat down your throat.” Alaska remarked in her raspy voice, prompting Katya to huff as she took a gulp from her frozen drink.

“I thought I should start giving Violet a run for her money.”

Truthfully, Katya hated the way he looked. After he had been on the road for so much, the small amount of weight he had been able to put on just fizzled away. Now, he worked too much to get a grip on his diet. Someone like Violet or Pearl managed to look sexy as hell despite of her fragile figures, but Katya felt like he was too old for that. He was nearly thirty-five years old, his body wasn’t supposed to look the way that it did. He also enjoyed flaunting curves as Katya – that was beginning to be a difficult thing to accomplish, pads could only do so much. When all of his costumes had begun to look droopy, he had lost his will do sew them in any further. It didn’t help that Trixie was constantly on his case about it, Katya suspected that the younger queen had begun to get suspicious if there was something else going on.

“So, how’s life? Are you and Brian getting along?” Alaska asked curiously. Katya had wanted to confide in someone that knew both him and Trixie, but the result was that Alaska asked him about it constantly.

“We are like two dysfunctional peas in a pod. Well, at least I hope we still are.” Katya replied with a shrug, not really sure if he should tell Alaska what had happened the other night. By the looks of his friend, however, he was probably not going to be able to keep it from him.

“Did you have another fight? Fuck.” Alaska exclaimed, shaking his head at his friends’ nonsense. “No, we didn’t have another fight. We, uh, quite the opposite, actually.” Katya rambled and then took another sip of her drink to collect his thoughts.

Alaska cocked one of his brows and chuckled. “You whore.”

Katya let out a wheezy laugh, flailing his arms around. “No, no, no! I was good and stopped it, I promise. He’s still got a boyfriend, so there’s that. Please don’t tell me that I’m being shady, because I didn’t start it and he promised that he would end it with his guy, so I’m just waiting for that call and – “Katya barely noticed that he had gone on a long tirade before Alaska interrupted him mid-rant:

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that, even though I live for Trixie, it wasn’t that long ago that he completely shattered your heart. He outright told you that you needed to find someone else to ‘claw onto’ or some shit like that. I don’t know, just set some standards for yourself. Don’t be that compliant.” Alaska sighed, apparently not holding back for the sake of Katya’s feelings. People rarely did.

Of course, in some way, he knew that his friend was right. Katya rarely made a case for himself, which in turn resulted in him often drawing the short straw from different relationships. It was true of course that Trixie had hurt him really badly, but none of it seemed to matter when he finally got the confirmation that he wasn’t being crazy or ‘just Katya’ – it was reciprocated, and the younger man did feel something for him. In light of that, Katya knew that he needed to defend his love. “I get where you’re coming from, but trust me – it’s going to be okay.”

———————–

Later that evening, Katya was getting ready for a gig. She still hadn’t heard a word from Trixie, and now she was beginning to feel incredibly anxious. She should have known that this would happen, because nothing would ever work out in Brian McCook’s favour. Trixie had probably changed his mind, again, and Brian would be alone – yet again.

A few hours later, the crowd was roaring at her. When Katya was on stage, she liked to think that she was a real, biological woman. She often claimed that to be the case whenever she was in drag, but especially when she was in her true element; which was near a crowd. After having just finished a song, she prepared to spout some final words of wisdom when she saw a familiar face in the crowd. Standing right there, next to one of his friends was Trixie. Brian Firkus was officially in the building and it drove Katya to the brink of insanity. They locked eyes over the crowd, and Trixie offered her a tired smile.

Katya had no idea how she should feel. Unfortunately, she was not given a lot of time to digest it all before she realized that the crowd was waiting for her, so she snapped out of her trance. What came out of her mouth after that was something ill-advised, improvised and just all around impulsive:

“You know who else is in the building? We’ve got the one and only legend, icon and star in her own mind; Trixie Mattel!” Katya shouted into the microphone, which made the crowd go absolutely wild. She could see Trixie roll her eyes and smile awkwardly at the people that turned around to greet her.

“Ha, oh my God. Sorry Tracy. Listen, you guys…” Katya drifted off, noticing that all eyes were on her again. There were two ways that this could go. Either, she could control herself and say something sweet – or, she could go into a deeply embarrassing rant that would most likely make Trixie angry. She chose the latter.

“Barbara, I did do it. I did try to… fuck her. You’d better believe it.” After that, a long rhapsody of her attempts to sleep with Brian Firkus just flew out of her mouth. She admitted that she had nearly succeeded, and noticed in that moment that Brian was making his way out of the crowd. Desperation now came into play, as Katya had no intentions of making the possible love of her life leave the room.

“I am willing to Thelma and Louise it off that fiscal cliff with that ho’ any day. She’s the one I think of when I get out of bed in the morning, and I go ‘whyy’ and then I think of her and I’m all like ‘why not? Whatever, it’s fun, yeah’.”

She had hoped that this would make Trixie stay, and it seemed like she succeeded in her attempts as the brown eyed man swirled around and laughed at her words. Katya winked to the crowd and then took a bow. After she had entered her dressing room, the process of taking Katya off had never gone quicker. She needed to find him. After Katya had thrown on his grey sweatpants and zipped up a green hoodie over his chest, it was time to go out the back. Once he did, he strode out in hopes of locating his friend.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and assumed that it was a drunk fan that wanted to get a picture with him, which was typically the case. He sighed and turned around, ready to tell the person that he was a little busy at the moment, when he saw the object of his desire. Trixie stood there, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey.” He greeted Katya, who just stood there, looking sufficiently sheepish.

“Hi.”

“So you’d actually toss yourself off of a cliff with me? That seems excessive.” Trixie retorted, crossing his arms over his toned chest.

“As the kids say, it’s just an expression. I wasn’t expecting to see you, I thought you had bailed on me again.” Katya pointed out, wanting to remember Alaska’s cautionary words and keep his guard up. Trixie cocked his head to the side and studied Katya’s stand offish exterior.

“I had a long night. Jack didn’t get home until late last night, and then we spent nearly four hours just fighting and crying. He left this morning.” Trixie explained, sadness washing over his features. Katya felt awful for Jack, he really did, but a flare of hope rose in his chest at the words that were coming out of Trixie’s mouth. Given the circumstances, the flare was kept relatively small for protection – but it was still there.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What did he say?” Katya asked, not really knowing what else to say in a situation like that. He didn’t want to expect anything.

“He told me that he was disappointed in me, and that he thought he knew me better than that. He questioned the fact that I would get into something with you, given your background…” Trixie explained, making Katya feel like the smallest man on the face of the earth. The fact that people still held his past against him felt like a punch in the gut. He understood that Jack was upset and obviously did not need to feel any form of responsibility for Katya, but it still hurt. He remembered the time when Vicky Vox had gone after him, claiming that he needed help more than he needed stardom. Because all she saw was a drug addict in recovery. Nothing more, nothing less.

“… And I told him that had nothing to do with it. I don’t care. I am pissed that you talked about that just now, but I’m going to let it slide for a bit because right now I really just want to kiss you, take you home and fuck your brains out.” Trixie continued, making Katya cough out of surprise. He knew that he shouldn’t. He should do this the ‘right’ way, but nothing could stop him from rushing forward and engulfing Trixie in a deep hug.

He leaned his head back and pressed his lips forcefully to Trixie’s own. The kiss was different this time. Nothing was holding them back, so Katya had no qualms about biting down on his lover’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. He heard a small low, guttural moan emit from Trixie’s throat, which only spurred him on even more. He slipped his tongue in and pressed Trixie even closer to his body. It felt like they had been standing there for forever when Katya finally drew back from their embrace and waggled his eyebrows. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“Oh fuck yes.”

#trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #fluff #tw drug addiction #slight angst #hypnotized #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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