#i filled half a sketchbook with sketches for this but ultimately nothing worked
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Whumptober, day 24 | Fight, Flight, Or Freeze ("I don't want to do this anymore")
Man this prompt sounded so easy but it gave me the most trouble out of all of them. And it's kinda short as a result.
NSFW.
Cw: mentions of past noncon.
---
What time is it again?
Heavy breathing filled the room. The air was hot and musky, with a faint tinge of onions. Three days worth of sweat. There was salt on his tongue, he licked his moist lips and tasted liquor. Durant couldn't quite place the taste, but it stung and he concluded it had to be quite potent.
Fuchs laid over him. One hand so dangerously close to the gunman's crotch, far too close for comfort, but he didn't feel like pushing it aside either. Limp and tired, so drunk, but not enough by any margin.
He could still feel, he could still think. His eyelids were heavy, oh yes they were, and it was hard to pry them back open, but the darkness was lazy, it didn't want to claim him yet.
Durant's fingers dug into Fuchs' mussed-up hair, tracing circles on the younger man's scalp. The gunman... found it calming, even when he didn't know why he was doing it. Why was he stroking the man he so hated, the man who used him to sate his urges, and barely anything else?
Fuck's sake, he nearly left him to die back then. In the torture warehouse. The images were hazy, Durant didn't want to remember any of it but he couldn't forget the pain.
The agony tearing his legs apart. Fuchs, how he aggravated those broken bones, until the gunman couldn't take it anymore and that darkness took pity on the man.
It didn't keep him up at night. But he still remembered those tiny jagged knives cutting away at his flesh. The way his legs felt, numb and achy, but it went away. Thank god it went away because he needed his legs.
He was just a gun with legs, after all.
Fuchs made a sound, some tired moan, as he shifted on top of his gunman. Hand brushing away against his slumbering dick and he felt a twinge of warmth flush his face.
But other than that, he didn't feel anything.
Huh.
He'd stopped with the gentle strokes, his fingers sat in Fuchs' dark hair, motionless, as the gunman stared at the ceiling.
Maybe it... wasn't a great sign. That Fuchs seemed like he wanted to get into his pants, but his touch didn't do anything to him.
It used to, though. His hands used to do a lot of things to him. Guided your obedient little maw to his wet, throbbing meat.
Durant swallowed at the thought. No. He didn't want that.
What did he want, then? If not to please his boss? To raise him to the very highs of that primal ecstasy?
Durant only ever felt dread. When Fuchs was coming down on him. When he wasn't even given a chance to say 'no'.
Seven words mindlessly teetered from his drunken tongue, rolling from his lip like a handful of glass marbles. "I don't want to do this anymore."
He had enough of this. Of everything. He wished he could perish in the moment, he didn't want this, he didn't want to be a part of this horrible contract, he didn't want to be here.
He wanted another drink. More. And more and more.
Until his body couldn't take it anymore and his brain checked out, leaving him to wake up in a pile of trash with possibly the worst hangover he ever experienced.
But Fuchs didn't seem to pay any attention to those seven words, the most sincere words the gunman had uttered in the past two and a half years. Durant's boss only squirmed on top of him, arm lazily hooking against Durant as the younger of the two pulled himself closer, higher.
He didn't want this.
He didn't want to be here.
But maybe, maybe if he imagined this wasn't Fuchs, but someone else...
(Fuchs was as good as a blow-up doll about now.)
...maybe then he wouldn't be feeling like this.
But Durant couldn't bring himself to put in the effort. At the end of the day, when they both wake up half-naked on the same side of the bed, it'll still be Fuchs. And the gunman would still wind up with that sickening feeling at the back of his throat.
Now their faces were only inches apart, Durant could feel his boss' hot breath against his neck. How he rutted against his knee, too out of it to even notice. At least he wasn't trying to grope him anymore, even if... he didn't mean it. Durant hoped his boss didn't mean it, the guy's absolutely shitfaced for god's sake.
Durant's only solace was that his boss was face-down, chin resting against the edge of the mattress, but the rest of his head hung past the edge. If the guy vomits, at least it won't be on the gunman's clothes. The cheapshit suit he's been wearing for who knows how long.
It didn't matter. Nothing fucking mattered.
The gunman let his eyes fall shut, and the darkness still refused to claim him.
#whumptober2022#no.24#fight flight or freeze#i don't want to do this anymore#OC#fic#mentions of past noncon#nsfwhump#man this prompt beat my ass#so easy on the surface and it turned out to be the hardest one yet#i filled half a sketchbook with sketches for this but ultimately nothing worked#and it's such a simple prompt!#kinda frustrating ngl#but it's done#nin saved the day lol
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Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Deprived
Part 13
In case y'all forgot, their entire relationship started with sleeping and cuddles. If you're sick of reading about it, I don't know how you made it this far. Last! Bit! Until the bet's end! Warning, it might take me forever to write part 14. Thoughts are always loved.
Tags!: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse @lordsmeldingtonthethird @taoiichii @resignedcatservant @iloontjeboontje @a-fan-fighting-for-equality
~---~
Missing someone starts simple enough. You raincheck a date or have to cancel a few times because life just demanded too much of you that week. Not that big of a deal, especially for a new couple. Surely the attachment and codependency hasn't settled in too heavily yet. Except maybe you're accustomed to seeing them at least four nights and two days every week at minimum even before dating. Perhaps that person helps with your bad habits and the lack of their presence disperses half your impulse control. There's even a chance that your basic human needs get tossed into a shallow grave with no marker because who really needs food and water and sleep? Those are optional right? But really, to skip all the roundabout half speak, it all accumulated into one basic thought, 'I miss Tim.'
...
"Something I should know about?" Robin spoke, not turning towards her where she landed at his side.
"Not allowed to follow my bestie every now and again?"
"Tt. I am well aware that I am not your usual choice of company, Tuemessian. Angel's? Maybe. Not yours."
She hesitated a moment, contemplating teasing only to stop herself. She came to confide in him, not annoy and he had already offered the branch. No need to have it retracted.
"Batman decided to tail Red a few days ago."
"Hmm, Red Robin hasn't been on any particularly difficult cases lately. Why would he need the extra help?"
"Because of me."
"We all know you shadow him. No reason to start getting uppity about it now," he paused for a moment before shooting her an accusatory look, "Something must have changed. And you neglected to inform me."
Heaving a long suffering sigh at Robin's tone, she fell against his side.
"Might've gotten on Batman's bad side. And let him see me. And hung off Red."
"So he's babysitting you now," he realized.
"Pretty much."
"And you came running to me in retaliation so as not to be observed," he observed with an unimpressed scowl.
"I will not be tailed by a man in a glorified onesie. It's demeaning and rude," she sniffed, nose turned up in a perfect imitation of Chloe.
"Suppose I should get used to my new patrol partner then?"
"Until Bats gets his head out of where it doesn't belong anyways," she pouted further, "I'm going to miss Red."
"If you plan to whine about it, I won't stick around to hear it," he threatened.
"Yeah right, you love me too much to just abandon me."
"Don't push it."
…
Two nights later, Jason found Marinette sitting on the roof of the manor, drawing in her sketch pad.
"You know Littlewing is out tonight, right?"
"Yeah."
"Alright sugarcube, what's up? You always follow him on patrol nights," Jason asked, settling behind her and letting her lean back into his chest, taking comfort in the contact, "Unless you're the reason Batsy bitched all of last night?"
"He confronted Tim on why Vixen wasn't following Red Robin anymore. Said that Vixen was his responsibility and he was shirking it."
"And Tim told him to stop supervising his nights out," Jason filled in the blanks, chuckling at the memory, "thought he'd blow a gasket when Tim ignored him after that."
"Red told me he'd let me know when Bruce decided to back off so I could come out again. Followed Robin the last two nights, but it got boring. Taking a night off."
"Yeah, kid's too serious in the suit to be much fun. What you working on up here anyways?"
"New outfit for Kori. Owe her one," she stifled a yawn, concentrating once more on the mechanics of making a crop top that didn't move or lift with your arms up or when turned upside down, without being skin tight.
"And the roof was the best option for this, obviously."
"No distractions up here."
"Or really?"
"Don't even think about it!"
He snagged the sketchbook and took off back through the window and down the hall, laughing when he heard a shriek and the immediate sounds of Mari giving chase.
"Jason get back here with that!"
…
Stephanie dropped into the apartment on a Thursday, taking in the fabric bound chaos of the living area, particularly thick around a work desk that seemingly exploded. Scattered bits of boning, lacing, eyelets, three seam rippers and notably a few chains, sticking out of the disaster. In the center of it all sat a tiny designer with a vicious snarl curling the edge of her lip.
Skipping over, Steph wrapped her hands around and squeezed at the tense shoulders, noticing the concerning lack of reaction.
"Mari, I'm hungry."
"I'll make you something later."
"Hmm, don't think so. I'm calling for pizza. You're joining me and no, work is not allowed during pizza time."
With that, she dragged Marinette off the chair and into the bedroom, both dropping onto the bed as Stephanie made the call, not needing to ask what the other wanted. Marinette didn't bother arguing, which was only more concerning. Steph wondered for a moment if she should call in reinforcement, but ultimately opted out. 'Nah, I got this.'
"Okay, should be here soon," she stated, relaxing into the comforter for a while, letting the other recover from being abruptly yanked out of work mode; read ten minutes of silence before curiosity won out.
"So what are you killing yourself over this time? Oh! Your suit for the next show? You have to let me see it!"
"No no, that was finished a week ago. You can stop by the studio tomorrow to check it out. You're still coming with me, right? I have a dress set aside for you."
"Obviously. I'm your date. However, that doesn't answer what you were getting so pissy with out there?" She teased, peaking at the other from the corner of her eye.
"It's a corset. Like, an actual, structured, hand embroidered, perfectly laced up corset. My hands feel like a crime scene with how much I've torn into them trying to get this right."
"Oh god, those things are so intricate. You're going to be screaming bloody murder by the end, why would you even do that to yourself?"
"... Haven't been sleeping much, figured it'd help get the frustration out."
"You never sleep much. Hence the sleep cuddle club," she pondered the thought a moment before snickering, "you two could make a business out of that if you weren't already swamping yourselves. Cuddle sessions for the sleep deprived and lonely. Oh! I'll go grab the door. I'm stealing your wallet by the way."
Stephanie launched out of the room to the sound of a knocking door and a Mari grumbling about it hardly being stealing when you announce it and the owner doesn't care. Walking back in, she dropped the box between them, yanked the top off and grabbed for the garlic butter sauce they ordered to dip the crusts in.
"You're disgusting."
"And you lack respect for sauce. What else is new?"
"... I've been skipping nap time too," Mari muttered, hoping the other wouldn't hear.
"What do you mean you've been skipping naps? That's like, the only time you two ever sleep! Marinette, you cannot be awake 24/7."
"Pshh, more like 23/6. I crash hard on day 7."
"... That's a whole mood. Might I ask as to why you hate yourself so suddenly?"
"My commissions have gone through the roof with award season coming up, and spring weddings start up immediately after that. I might be clientele only, but my client basis is massive at this point! I don't have time and the few moments I've been free, Tim's been out for the night. And lord knows I don't sleep well alone."
"Uh-huh. And how long has this been going on?" Steph focused on the cheese stringing from her mouth that just would not let go, to give the other a chance to build up to tell the truth without having a guilty stare off.
"Um. About two weeks?" Mari flinched, wishing she were Tuemessian so she could disappear right there.
"So what you're telling me is that you haven't slept more than 12 collective hours, you're overworking yourself to the point of compliance to my antics, and your boyfriend, who's just as much of a sleepless wreck as you are, hasn't dragged you off for your regularly scheduled nap dates. Is that correct?"
"Well yeah. Wait, my boyfriend?"
"Don't even try me, I know you and Tim are a thing. No denying it. It's so damn blatant, it's ridiculous the others seem so oblivious to it," Steph rolled her eyes, daintily wiping her fingers off and grabbing a half empty water bottle off the nightstand to drain. A perfect contradiction of uppity and uncaring that only she seemed to pull off.
Marinette could only blink in surprise for a moment before nodding along, "We didn't plan for this," she murmured, half distracted.
"For what?"
"Nothing," she shook her head to clear the thought, "point is.Yes? I mean, we're just really busy and haven't found time and he knows how important this all is to me and even if he doesn't approve, it's not like he can get away to prevent it. Which would make him a total hypocrite if he called me out on it. Honestly, it's not even that bad, I'm catching up on so much now and I'll get to see him soon I'm sure, just as soon as I get through this season and!"
"That's it! I'm staging an intervention! We're finishing this pizza, cleaning you up and then I'm dropping you off at his apartment where you will sleep. Tomorrow the two of you are not leaving the bed until noon at the earliest. No work, only rest. Understood?"
"Noooo, Stephanniiieee, I'm busy!"
"Are you telling me you don't want snuggles?"
"... No."
"Then quit your bitchin, your arguments are lost on me. Now help me with this before I eat it all, itty bitty."
…
It took maybe fifteen minutes to finish the food and get some water down, another twenty to shower and get coerced into wearing cozy black fleece leggings, lavender tank top, and a soft, deep royal purple cardigan, and finally an extra ten minutes to lock up and make it out of the complex.
While Marinette was locked away in the bathroom, Stephanie called up Tim.
"Tell me you're at home. Or can be back in the next fifteen minutes."
"I just walked in?"
"Perfect, I'm dropping Mari off soon. She's like the walking dead right now and that's coming from the Dead Robins Club VP."
"VP…"
"Duh, Jason's the President. Damian's a recruit. Mari's not allowed to become the newbie. She's not even a Robin, it'd make no sense."
"What about Dick and I?"
"You two never actually died, doesn't count."
"Fair… wait, what's going on with ma loutine?"
"When's the last time you slept properly? Or even napped?"
"..."
"So when do you think she last slept or napped?"
"..."
"We'll be there soon."
…
Marinette found herself dragged up to his apartment, the door opening as she was pushed forward into a warm, familiar chest.
Since being dragged from her work, the lack of self care was slowly catching up to her. She hadn't even bothered to pull her hair out of her face, just letting the freshly blow dried fluff fall were it may. She had a vague idea of how they got here, but either way was grateful to find herself warm and held, even if it was in a doorway with the two talking over her head. She caught only snippets: something about not skipping out on each other anymore and a suggestion about living situations that made the body pressed to hers flush. Eventually the two stopped and Stephanie left. A hand pressed to the side of her face and she looked up to Tim who tilted to rest his forehead on hers.
"Hello sweetheart."
"Mon Somnambule," she smiled, eyes closing automatically.
"Think you're beating me there. When have you last slept?"
"Hypocrite."
"That's not an answer."
Mari pouted, not looking like she wanted to answer.
"Have you slept beyond an hour at a time?"
"I can't remember," she admitted.
"Why haven't you slept? You're usually better at self regulation than I am."
"Missed you."
"It's more than that though, isn't it?"
She pulled back and burrowed back into his chest, concentrating on the sound of his heartbeat.
"Couldn't sleep alone. Dark figure stalking me. Brought back bad memories. Became a nonentity for a reason. I do the following now. I make others uncomfortable, observe and toy with them. Not the other way round."
"I took care of that. He won't follow me anymore. You can come back out. But sweetheart, why didn't you call me?"
"Too risky at night with him following you. Too busy during the day. Didn't seem like there was a good time," she admitted.
He frowned, but let it go, gently tugging her arms over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck and placed his hands on the back of her thighs in a prompt to jump up. With her firmly wrapped around him, he made way to his bedroom, sitting down on the edge and pulling back a touch.
"Maybe Steph was right about living situations," he muttered to himself, hushing her when she hummed in confusion.
"Are you comfortable sleeping in that?"
She tugged at the cardigan, accidently getting tangled until he helped her out of it, folding it off to the side. She tucked her face down into the side of his neck and slumped into him completely. Turning them about, he settled her down, curling around her.
"Sleep well, love."
#timari#timinette#part 13#ml x dc#maribat#I also need to be dragged to sleep#hints at dark past#doesnt get into it#use your imagination
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Whumptober 2019 Delirium
Yusuke Kitagawa, Persona 5, Delirium
CW: Madarame’s shitty parenting, starvation, hallucination, child abuse (minor)
=
Akira took one look at him and shook his head. “Stay behind, Fox.” The others nodded absentmindedly, agreeing with Joker’s decision. “You look a bit pale. We’re just going to handle a few requests today, so we won’t even be delving that deep into Mementos.” Yusuke could see the traces of a smile on Joker’s lips, meant to assure him that Yusuke wasn’t being a hindrance by not fighting, that it was perfectly alright for him to stay in the backlines. “Rest up. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Haru, ever considerate, said, “We should go out to eat after this!” It was met with a chorus of agreements. Ryuji, in particular, hollered in delight, which prompted Morgana to swat him with a paw. “I’m sure we’re all going to be tired after fighting and there’s a place I’ve wanted to go to for so long. It would be much better if we could all go together, right?”
“Right!” Morgana cheered. “Now, onto the mission!”
Yusuke wanted to argue. Proclaim that he was so close to finishing his recreation of “Desire” and turning it into a piece worthy of something. A piece that depicted the inner workings of the heart, a theme that had eluded him for so long. Mementos, a place teeming with the unfettered desires of human souls, would be the perfect reference point from which Yusuke could begin his research into furthering himself as an artist. The designs and aesthetics of each individual level were so vastly removed from each other that Yusuke could analyse them for years and still never fully grasp it in its entirety.
The shadows as well, were of interesting shapes and colours. Why, the giant elephants that could very quickly tire out their group were quite fascinating to look at. Yusuke could stare at them for hours and to have a hands-on experience in a fight would prove beneficial to sparking his creativity. After all, battle sharpened his senses, honed his skills, and allowed him to pinpoint even the smallest minute detail he would otherwise never notice.
He should be on the frontlines, fighting. He’s quite capable of it. Though Akira was right that Yusuke was paler than usual, frailer than usual, he was certain that he would not be a burden. Admittedly, his aim might be impaired by the fact that his vision was swimming, but if he widened his range, then surely he would be able to hit something. Or at the very least, push the shadows towards someone whose vision wasn’t filled with black dots.
But ultimately, it was not his decision to make. And before he could even conjure up a convincing argument, Akira had decided on a party, and Morgana had already shifted. Whatever words he might have thought to say died on the tip of his tongue and Yusuke followed the others onto the bus, accepting the lack of stimulation for today’s trip into Mementos.
It was a shame. While working on the sequel to his Desire, Yusuke had several, smaller pieces he needed to finish. His art teacher hadn’t caught on to his slump as of yet, but it would be a matter of time before Yusuke’s incompetence was revealed. He needed to do something to prevent that. There were several half-painted canvases he had at the Kosei dorms, but lately, whenever he picked up a brush, his artistry simply fled.
What is he to do without inspiration?
Mementos, in a way, was Yusuke’s temporary answer to the drought he was facing. If he could fight, if he could feel death reaching its bony fingers out, attempting to grasp him, trying to drag him from the mortal realm and into the land of the forsaken, then surely, he would discover something new, something breathtaking, something that he absolutely must capture with paint.
Oh well. A lost opportunity is a lost opportunity. Akira -no- Joker, he was Joker here, was flexible and fair. If one of the Thieves wanted to fight, he let them, but should he deem them sick or tired or in Yusuke’s case, severely exhausted, then no amount of negotiation would change his mind. The only way Yusuke was fighting, was if the party was ambushed by a Shadow far too powerful for them to handle and Joker called backup.
Compared to that scenario, Yusuke would much rather go a day without having anything interesting to look at.
He could still try gleaning something from the dark cavernous depths he could see outside Morgana’s window though. It wasn’t quite like experiencing everything directly, but it would have to do. Yusuke pulled out the sketchbook he had tucked in the coat of his thief outfit and a pencil and watched the walls run. Sketching something, anything, when he was starving proved to be a challenge, but one that he was already familiar with. It would be no different than he was at the shack. Although, every jolt of the Mona Bus reminded Yusuke that he hadn’t eaten anything since
Since.
He can’t remember. It couldn’t be less than a week ago, when he turned in a project for his class. A mediocre piece that somehow fooled his instructor into thinking that Yusuke was not in the slump he was in. Technically masterful brushstrokes and a vague, abstract subject can get one far, apparently, despite hunger and fatigue. Yusuke hasn’t eaten.
He was starving. There was food being sold at the Kosei cafeteria, and if Yusuke remembered correctly, he had done some grocery shopping just the other day. Bread and jam, with one or two cans of sardines, but if he wanted, he could easily get some food for himself when he got back.
Not that it mattered. Yusuke could postpone having a meal until after he’s finished at least one of his projects. Worldly attachments prevent you from painting to your fullest potential. You must cast aside your pain and your hunger and focus on nothing but art. Art is the only thing you will excel at and you must devote all of yourself to perfect that craft.
If Yusuke focused on eating, on food, on base desires, then he would never create the masterpieces that he was surely capable of. Art is pain. Art is suffering. Art is beauty that can only be achieved through dedication. Food can wait, even as his stomach felt empty. Great art is worth suffering for and until you create something worth your food, you’re not getting a bite. It’s all for you, Yusuke. Don’t you see? This is how true art is created. It’s all for your sake. I’m doing this for you so be a good boy and paint.
Absently, Yusuke found himself nodding.
“Uh, Fox? You good man?” Ryuji sat with Yusuke near the back of the bus and nudged Yusuke’s arm. “What’cha doin?”
Yusuke turned away from the window to look at Ryuji. The skull mask looked menacing in the yellow light of the Adyeshach levels. “Isn’t it obvious?” Ryuji shook his head, the confused curl of his lips visible. “I’m sketching ideas for my new piece.”
Ryuji’s eyes darted to Yusuke’s sketchbook, then to his face. “Right. Hey Panther?” On Ryuji’s other side, Ann jolted to attention from her nap. Ryuji tapped her arm repeatedly and gestured to Yusuke. “I think I might be going insane so check for me. Does Fox have a sketchbook in his hands?”
“Ugh. You woke me up for this?” Ann slumped back into her seat and punched Ryuji in the shoulder. Yusuke found himself nodding. How can he sketch without a sketchbook?
“Of course Fox doesn’t have anything in his hands. Don’t be stupid.”
Wait.
“I assure you I have been spending my hour productively.” After all, if Yusuke can’t fight, he should at least spend the trip to Mementos sketching out ideas. “The yellow light brings an ambience to Mementos that I would otherwise not find in the real world. I would not be such a fool as to waste this opportunity.”
This got Ann wide awake. She shifted in her seat, leaning over Ryuji to stare Yusuke down with narrowed eyes. “Oracle!” Ann yelled. Futaba, sitting near the front, turned around. “What colour is Mementos?”
Futaba made a non-committal noise. “Kind of purple, kind of red. Why?”
She was wrong, but Yusuke elected not to comment on that.
“Doesn’t he look paler than usual?”
By now, everyone was turning to look at him. Yusuke could see the worry behind their masks. They were worrying too much.
“I’m perfectly fine.” Yusuke assured.
And promptly passed out.
-------------------------------------------------------------
“Is he okay?”
“The Doctor called the school dorms and told them that Yusuke was suffering from stress and mental fatigue but... she said that should be fine.”
“He can stay at Leblanc right? I’ll talk to Sojiro about that.”
“Right. Right. Yeah. Okay. I’ll get some blankets on the bed for him. I can sleep on the couch.”
“Dude. I can’t believe that he just collapsed. Makoto almost crashed the car.”
“I panicked! I didn’t think that Yusuke would just faint like that.”
“Still, I can’t help but wonder. Why did he pass out like that? Um. I’m still quite new here so I don’t know if I’m overstepping, but he doesn’t seem very healthy to me.”
“He’s always so pale…”
“Hey, Guinea Pig.”
“Takemi. How is he?”
“Fine. It’s nothing life threatening.”
There were disembodied voices around him, floating in the air. Yusuke blinked his eyes open to find drab white walls and the stench of sterilisation pungent in the air. It smelled like a hospital. Or a clinic. He hasn’t been to one recently. Why was he here? Or was the room redecorated without his knowing?
“What happened to him, Doctor?”
A woman stood at the foot of his bed. It wasn’t one of sensei’s pupils, but she was fairly young. Perhaps a visitor? No. Sensei did not allow visitors to stay at the shack. She had unusually blonde hair. Yusuke would love to paint it. He might just make that the next piece he submitted. She stood next to a woman in a white lab coat; a doctor.
“Exhaustion and fatigue plus an inordinate amount of stress caused him to collapse. Not to mention delirium and auditory and visual hallucinations that stem from malnutrition and sleep deprivation.”
“Oh no.”
“But when I messaged Inari just the other day he told me he had some food at the dorms! Did he not eat them?”
“Possibly.”
Yusuke can’t eat just yet. He had to create a new piece, before the deadline, before Sensei gets angry at his lack of productivity. He can’t just lay around doing nothing. Yusuke shifted and everyone in the room turned their eyes on him. What an odd group.
A young man with jet black hair sat beside Yusuke and gently pushed him back onto the bed. “Yusuke. Sleep. Just. Just sleep. I should have realised sooner, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Yusuke slurred. The black-haired man wore glasses. Yusuke would like to paint him too. “I can’t eat until I finish something. Sensei said so.”
“Sensei?” The black-haired man had lovely black eyes that matched his hair. His brows were creased in worry. “Yusuke. He’s not here. You’re safe. He can’t make you do anything anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Sensei stood by the door, scowling. He looked like a shogun, with a shiny gold robe and gaudy make up. Yusuke tried to point. The black-haired man held his arm down. There was an IV drip in the crook of Yusuke’s elbow. “He’s right behind you.”
The doctor sighed. “It will be a while before he’s back to normal. I suggest that you all get some rest.”
“I’ll stay with him,” said the black-haired man.
Sensei would get angry if there were visitors in the shack. Yusuke should have them all leave, for their sakes. But. A part of him didn’t want to be left alone. His eyes were heavy and he slid them shut. The black-haired young man looked worried.
Yusuke was starving.
He needed to finish another painting soon.
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Inspiration [Taehyung x Reader]
credit: Unknown (plz if I don’t know an the author and someone else does message me ASAP! I want to give credit where it is deserved)
Requests opened // m.list
Genre: Cute // Fluff
Summary: Hi! can i requesting a taehyung scenario that you and him have a museum date & and that you make a painting of him!
WC: 1,242
A/N: Ah I apologize in advance for the lack of request writings. There’s been a lot that’s been going on and I just want y’all to know that I’m working on them slowly. It’ll just take me sometime okay? Thank you so much :)
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It was a simple date, or that’s what you told yourself. Nothing was simple with Taehyung. You could ask him to go out on a walk and he’d dress up in fancy clothes. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of being with him, it was that it didn’t feel “simple” enough. When Taehyung decided to take you to a museum you had to ask yourself if he was having a stroke.
Taehyung’s interest in art was influenced by everything surrounding him. With the opportunity of being in Bangtan, he was able to explore mediums easily. Often showing you pictures he took, paintings he made, and expressing his love in DaVinci and other old artists. You often expressed your own knowledge, based on being a studio arts major. You had to learn from the older generation in order to develop your ideas.
Taehyung often praised you with your works. Even asking if he could help you on projects because working with you was a lot of fun; his words exactly. Taehyung wanted to learn everything he possibly could about art and it would work out well for him. You found this as a bonding experience because you would be able to not only develop better ideas, but you could teach him what you paid to learn.
His artistic style was different. It was new and innovated and you wanted him to continue to flush out any ideas that he possibly could. That could be one of the reasons he wanted to go to the museum with you. Maybe he was looking for inspiration. You would’t blame him, considering it’s what you did when you couldn’t think. However, inspiration came in all different forms for you. Music, reading, writing, etc. It was a reason there was so many sketches surrounding your apartment.
Whatever you had in your mind, you almost immediately had to get it down. You always carried a pen and paper with you. Taehyung often expressed his interest in watching you work. He often took small videos without your knowledge and send them to you whenever you were feeling down. He was being supportive in his own little ways.
When Taehyung picked you up, you asked him why a museum:
“Because I wanted to do something you enjoy.”
Taehyung was too sweet for his own good. His response was playing over and over, causing your chest to tighten and feel warm. Everything about him was too precious, your heart couldn’t take it.
After a forty-five minute drive, the car parked on the side. Taehyung turns it off, grabbing his things whilst pulling his hand over to grab yours. He insisted that he would carry everything but your sketchbook. By now, he knew how you worked. You tried to insist that everything was fine, but he was being a gentleman. He wanted to do this because in his mind, today was about you.
Taehyung often expressed his love by doing different actions. He believed that if people could see what he was doing, it would move faster than his words could travel. Today was one of those days. Since he had been so busy at the studio, Taehyung didn’t get to spend as much time with you. He was always arriving back at the dorm late, texting you briefly, then falling asleep.
Because you didn’t go to bed on a normal basis, you often stayed up late with him. He wanted to make it up to you somehow and taking you to DaVinci exhibition was more than liking going to do it. He listened to you whenever you raved about DaVinci. You found his word to not only be inspiring but innovated. Everything he thought about, how he wrote backwards, how he invented so many different mechanisms made your heart swoon.
Taehyung read your fifteen page final on DaVinci for your masters degree. He enjoyed all of it because he learned more than he could have learned in school. When you say your paper felt heavier, it’s because Taehyung wrote as many notes as he possibly could. He wanted to let you know how amazing this paper was.
Which brings Taehyung back to reality as he saw your face light up. You turn around, glancing back at your boyfriend, ultimately hugging his waist. It was your way of showing affection whenever you were excited. You were unaware that a new exhibition had emerged. Let alone one of your favorite artists! You raced through the exhibition entrance, then taking your time with the paintings.
As you were moving through, your hands were furiously sketching away. You weren’t copying the pieces, no. Instead, you were drawing different faces. Different objects that raced through your mind. It was how you took in artwork. It was a weird yet fascinating thing to watch. Especially from an outsiders perspective.
As mentioned previously, Taehyung loved this aspect of your personality. He loved watching the pen dance across the pages, making something out of nothing. He often envied how you were so engrossed in everything around you. But he could understand why in the end.
At the end of the exhibition, you had filled half of your small sketchbook. You looked through, noticing that most if not all of the drawings were of Taehyung. You couldn’t help but notice that he was always in your mind and you used him as bait most of the time. You had come to the conclusion that drawing Taehyung was your favorite thing to do.
Even in the mix of your creativity, you had ultimately lost your boyfriend. That was the downside of having a creative mind. You didn’t focus on anything else but the pen and the paintings / inspirations. It had become noticable when you would stand alone looking out for Taehyung.
Since his hair was mostly random neon colors, you could’ve found him easily. But, he colored it back to his normal brown. This time, you started to worry about if he was still inside. Waiting for you or being patient himself. You knew he was a big boy and could take care of himself, but you also were socially awkward. If you could have someone else around you, you would.
Then it hit you - You needed to get home now..
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“Baby it’s been hours...” Taehyung complains moving himself inwards. Your hair was pulled back in a messy bun. You were wearing your splattered paint overalls with a white shirt underneath. You held a brush in your hand, a large canvas in front of you. When Taehyung got close you ultimately moved in front shaking your head.
What was behind you was a large painting of a drawing you did earlier of Taehyung. You didn’t want him seeing it because it was still in progress. However, it was something you were going to give to him. You reach out to grab his hand, holding it close. Ultimately squeezing wet paint against his hand.
“Okay then, let’s take a small break.” You answer giving him a shy smile, Taehyung’s eyebrow rising. He knew you were hiding something but you wasn’t going to say anything. Instead he moves in to kiss your forehead. Where there wasn’t any paint and it was safe enough.
“Okay but I want to see what you're painting.”
“Yeah sure,” pausing. “But when it’s finished.” your voices fade away, the canvas of the painting of your boyfriend laminating under the lights of your studio.
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