Taichi x Yamato

Taichi and Yamato: Why?

Jyo: Because that would be mistreatment! That could also be reported to the authorities.

Taichi: So I can denounce Yamato's right hook?

Rated: T

Chapters as of this post: 6

Blurb: I love Matt and Tai’s friendship in this fic. There’s lots of witty interaction between them, but with Matt revealing his secret to Tai and with Tai discovering more about Matt and himself, there’s plenty of drama to go around, too. My intro to TaiYama. Love it!!

21/09/2019

Digimon. Fanfic. Author: Misslouder.

Summary: It’s at the end of the bar, where the lights cannot reach it and its face diffuses in the shadows. Yamato hates himself for having the desire to know who he is.

Notes: The Yamato version. This one was a little longer.

Chapter 2

 Final.

There he was again, at the bottom of the bar with a relaxed posture, where the lights cannot reach him and his face diffuses into the shadows. A wrinkle pierced his face and eventually deformed the transparent canvas of his forehead, even when the song moved out of his throat. Yamato couldn’t concentrate, although his voice recited stanzas practiced, his thoughts were beyond. Far beyond.

His attention burned in that figure that raised a glass and gave him a wry smile, as if he had a secret on his lips.

What did he want? Seduce it? Provoke it? Who the hell are you?

Too many questions assaulted his mind, wrinkling his conscienceEven more so, with the emphatic question, why  simply could not let it go? Whenever he stood on stage, and the spotlights blinded the whole place, his gaze automatically fell to that point. Looking for those eyes that Yamato couldn’t decipher the color, but that he could imagine.

Maybe it was a warning. The way in which that young man, perhaps of his age, licked his lips and made him forget a second the course that the fingers should follow on the instrument. Ignoring it would be simple, and it irritated him to be unable. Everything could be by the entrenched tangled thread of his own consciousness. Yamato didn’t know who it was. It appeared out of nowhere. It disappears like dust.

“You don’t know who I am,” he thought. “Don’t look at me as if you knew me, as if you knew something about me.”

His heart trembled, words seething like acid. Yamato breathed deeply, letting his lungs fill with air and remind him of his place. He was distracted in the audience, feeling support in the form of screams that warm his blood. He smiled gracefully, and felt the response.

The presentation vanished with the echo of his own voice, raising the emotion for the moment when he decided to the turns of his mind and, with a triumphant expression, could once again direct his eyes to that place. The result shrunk his stomach, but it didn’t surprise him either: That young man  was gone.

He wanted to get angry about it. He had a river of emotions dragging others. Something inside was still shaking and he recognized the serpentine curiosity he wanted to cut off. In his mind were listed the events that aroused so many roots; he was always in the same place, always drinking the same thing. He looked like a man of habit. He looked at Yamato as if they were lifelong friends, as if Yamato could guess what his mind was hiding.

Being on a stage with a scarce audience, Yamato usually memorizes certain places where he has to look. He learned to recognize the fixed customers, the fans, the workers, the owner of the shop that looks at Yamato wistfully. They became almost like family, and despite almost four months of showing up at Hugh Lune, Yamato didn’t know who that young man was who always sat in that corner.

He had talked to the bartender, taking care of his questions and got few answers. Yamato got a name, thanks to the use of a spent credit card, and from there the rest was just shadows. No one knew who it was. He looked like a character that doesn’t exist.

Just a name, a poor name; Taichi.

Taichi kept coming to see him sing, fixing his eyes with that damn smile that lit Yamato’s cheekbones red hot. Taichi also moved his lips, speaking to him.  Saying words he couldn’t find. Yamato was about to stop his own presentation to ask what the hell he wanted to say. Why he always came to see him come in, and never stayed to see him come down.

He was an elusive being. Yamato  couldn’t catch him, it was like water between his fingers.

Yamato got used to his presence, to that glow that turned in the pupils, to the seduction of a drink going down the throat. To Yamato began to like that mystery, to get on stage and not find it, but close his eyes to wait. Then, Yamato open his eyes elegantly after several seconds and find in that place. At the bottom of the bar. An apparition

Taichi looked at him with complicity and Yamato responded. He realized that his concerts were now for him. For Taichi. He fell in love with a ghost.

Sometimes Taichi’s beautiful and expressive eyes shone with joy; others, the pain turned them off and filled with broken memories. Yamato wanted to tell him that they were the same, that he knew him without doing so. That young man smiled at him as always that night, and when he spoke, Yamato understood. And it scared him…

“What do you see in that corner?” Sora had asked one night, sitting next to him.

“I don’t know,” he lied, playing with the strings of his bass.

“There is never someone there, Yamato.”

Yamato looked at that empty chair, with sad eyes.

“I know, Sora.”

“Yamato?”

“You wouldn’t understand”

He remembered his song of imaginary monsters that protected innocent children from their own nightmares. Yamato wondered if he had the same madness in his skin. He didn’t care that Taichi wasn’t real, he just wanted to keep seeing him.

However, his greatest fear came true. That young man did not come back. Taichi stopped going to the bar, to his concerts and only the memory of a name was what remained in his mind. Only images recorded under your own imagination and obstinacy.

“He was there”, Yamato said.

Who, Yamato?

The following nights were empty and monotonous. Sometimes he thought he saw Taichi in the crowd, in the shadows and ran to chase only mirages of his cracked fantasy. Everything that happened was poor and inappropriate. In the conformity of her pillow, tears burned her cheeks and a cloud of disappointment clouded her heart.

He fell in love with someone who didn’t exist. Even though his fame transcended, his band rose to the top of the Oricon charts and his concerts were renowned; Yamato felt he lost something valuable that night at the bar. He could remember what those lips recited and  couldn’t answer.

Since then, his songs began to talk about a fictional love, two separate twin stars, feelings born from nothing and never got close. Someone who asked for help and could not be assisted.

An angel who stopped protecting.

Even when Yamato returned to the bar and, sat at the bottom of the bar, the feeling came to him. The last words that Taichi recited among dreams and that he swore he would answer one day out loud.

“Let me find you, Taichi,” he said. “If you think I saved your life, come to save mine.”

Chapters: 22/22 Fandom: Digimon Adventure, digimon o2, Digimon tamer, Game of Thrones (TV), Digimon Frontier Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death Relationships: TaiYama - Relationship, Daiken - Relationship, joumy, takatoxjuri Characters: Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya, Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida, Kido Jou | Joe Kido, Takenouchi Sora, Izumi Koushirou | Izzy Izumi, Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya, Ichijouji Ken, Matsuda Takato | Takato Matsuki, Makino Ruki | Rika Nonaka, Lee Jianliang | Henry Wong Additional Tags: Inspired by Game of Thrones, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Suicide Attempt Series: Part 2 of The Tale of the three-head beast Summary:

I can explain.

How can I not read any TaiYama / Taito / Yamachi fic that shows up on my feed?? There’s just something about this ship that makes me click so fast on these fics. And better yet, all of them are really good. T_T

Not the ship you’d expect me to spotlight with its own post first, but, this is a great ship, regardless. I like it here. Can I stay for a while?

Anyway, on to the list (updates to my other lists to follow) <3

12/10/2019

Mimi: I don’t care what anyone says, the black cookie part is the best part of an oreo.

Matt: Darkness without light is an abyss, light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side.

Taichi: Yo Socrates, it’s a fucking COOKIE. No judging

Matt: but-

Yamato: Are we really going to let Takeru keep Daisuke?

Taichi: I love you too.

Yamato: What?

For the list of drabbles, click here.

~~

“Taichi! Agumon!” he can hear screams. Hear distress. There was crying and he didn’t know what to make of it. 

“Taichi!” they called the name. Who was Taichi? 

“Agumon!” a creature appeared to his right, he was sure it wasn’t there before. 

“Are you Agumon?”

“Are you Taichi?” they spoke at the same time. 

He thought about it. Why did both names sound familiar anyway? Was he Taichi? Was this orange thing, Agumon? Was it the other way around?

A slap woke him up from his dream. Opening his eyes, he saw Yamato with tears in his eyes. 

Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13183533/3/Dulce-narc%C3%B3tico

Preview:

Es un dolor en el brazo lo que te atrae de nuevo a la realidad. Gimes un poco y una luz estalla frente a tus ojos. Empiezas a odiarla.

Parpadeas, fijando tu vista en tu dorso izquierdo donde una aguja entra a tus venas y lleva hielo en ellas. Duele. Una corriente que incluso es capaz de adormecer todo el brazo y tu primera reacción es quitártelo.

—¡No te lo quites! —alerta una voz, tomándote de las manos—. El médico dijo que dolería un poco, pero necesitas ese medicamento en tu cuerpo.

Prontamente, tu vista se aclara y la voz ya es familiar. Muy familiar. Demasiado familiar. Como unas nubes que muestran un cielo azul, lo ves frente a ti. El único rayo de luz en un cielo poblado de tinieblas.

—¿… Taichi? —pronuncias el nombre lentamente, temiendo que fuera cierto. Aún no estás listo para enfrentarlo.

—Tranquilo, todo estará bien, Yamato.

No puede ser. Esas palabras las odias. ¿Qué mierdas podría estar bien? De hecho, te hacen enojar porque no eres un bebé y no necesitas que te hablen con mimo.

—¿Qué haces aquí? —preguntas con molestia. Sí, estás molesto y no sabes si es precisamente con Taichi o con el mundo, pero alguien debe recibir esa furia.

Él luce sorprendido por la brusquedad de tu pregunta, incluso una punzada de arrepentimiento mancha tus emociones y lastima algo en tu expresión. Taichi no responde con rapidez, te observa en silencio y notas un agotamiento colgando de su rostro. No es el mismo brillo con el que lo viste la última vez. Sus hombros están caídos, la espalda ligeramente encorvada, el cabello más desordenado de su naturaleza; su rostro opaco y su mirada perdida.

—Lo que hacen los amigos —confiesa finalmente.

Esa oración te deja en blanco.

No, él no podía llevar con eso otra vez. Esa amistad ya pesaba demasiado. Te quedas callado, y sigues mirándole con reproche.

—Supongo que Nao te puso al día —continúa Taichi, casual, arrastrando una silla para sentarse junto a tu cama. El taburete es pequeño y sus piernas se recogen bastante.

—¿Con qué?

Una sonrisa roída. Eso es lo que los labios de tu amigo pueden formar ahora.

—No sé. Con todo, supongo —Se encoge de hombros—. ¿Cómo te sientes?

—Bien —mientes. Eres un desastre tanto interno como externo, pero no tienes que lidiar con que otros lo sepan. Menos Taichi—. ¿Cuándo me darán de alta?

—Cuando tengan que hacerlo. —Frunces el ceño automáticamente. Taichi suspira—. ¿Y bien? ¿Tienes algo qué decirme?

—Eso debería preguntar yo. —Aún cuando estás débil y cansado, no pierdes la doctrina de turbar las aguas de cualquier conversación. Y para tu sorpresa, Taichi es el que clava el cuchillo para romper el hielo.

—¿Sí? Pues, no soy yo quien tuvo una sobredosis. No soy yo quien ocultó todo este tiempo una adicción. No soy yo quien estuvo a punto de morir, Yamato. —lo dijo lentamente, saboreando cada palabra y extendiendo la voz que no tuvo ninguna necesidad de gritarlo para que calara en lo más hondo de tu ser.

Estaba molesto.

Tus labios se aprietan, tienes mucho para defenderte, pero al parecer Taichi tiene aún más para rebatirte cortando la oración que estabas a punto de soltar.

—Sí, no sé nada. —se adelantó, sorprendiéndote—. No sé con lo que lidiaste, no sé por lo que pasaste. Sé que la muerte de tu padre te afectó, pero maldición, Yamato, ¿qué no te he demostrado que siempre estaré de tu lado? —Sus ojos son dagas ardientes y te perforan, después de tanto, definitivamente el verdadero filo te corta—. ¿Tuve que verte en este estado, para poder saber que no confías en mí?

—Taichi, no es…

—¿No es qué?

Es una buena pregunta, de hecho. Sus ojos están ardiendo, la ira tomando terreno y el silencio que cae entre ustedes oprime incesantemente. Tu cabeza es un lío, los pensamientos se arremolinaban y en tus oídos zumbaban las preguntas al que el eco de tu voz no tiene la fuerza de responder. Pierden consistencia en tu lengua y se deshacen antes de ser fecundadas con palabras vagas.

Las miradas se enfrentan, el deseo de saber se dibuja en las de Taichi. En el dulce arco de sus ojos y ese color que es calidez para tu corazón. Espera una respuesta de ti, y no la tienes. Tú tampoco tienes las respuestas y la sigues buscando en una parte de ti.

¿Qué otra explicación más que la soledad y la desesperación llevan a las peores agonías que solo una anestesia puede callar?

—Realmente… —La voz de Taichi se quiebra—. Realmente eres un idiota, Yamato.

Tu silencio no le agrada, lo demuestra en su ceño profundizándose y la impaciencia que manifiesta con la punta de sus tenis enfrentándose a la baldosa pálida. Las venas prensadas trepan por el talle de su cuello, y hace visible el pulso late frenético. Casi puedes adivinar el puño que estuvo conteniendo en el interior de su bolsillo. Ante tu silencio, no soporta más. Se da vuelta, dispuesto a irse.

En un asalto de tu cuerpo, estiras tu mano y tomas la suya. Al fin.

Ves la sorpresa manifestarse en el rostro de tu amigo, y más en la tuya cuando adviertes como cuarzos plateados ya han dejado líneas de cristal sobre sus mejillas. Oyes el sonido de algo agrietándose dentro de ti, no sabes lo que es, pero se hace trizas en medio segundo que solo queda escarcha que mancha tus ojos.. Te muestra la realidad astillada de lo que eres y serás.

Sientes que tu corazón está en pedazos junto con las palabras de Taichi. No puedes verlo llorar, no lo soportas. Taichi es el hombre más fuerte y valiente que conoces, y verlo así te lleva todas tus fuerzas.

Respiras temblorosamente, aun sigues tomando su mano y sabes que tus nudillos heridos sollozan al ejercer presión. No te importa, temes a que los dedos que atrapas se escapen y nunca más vuelvan a ti. Es tu más grande miedo. La pesadilla que asalta tu cama.

Le ves, soltándole y aprietas los puños en su pecho. Después de mucho tiempo conteniendo aquella palabra que más espinosa que hacía sangran el silencio; la dejas ir. Con tu aspecto enfermizo, la palidez infernal, ojeras que se hundían bajo tus párpados y, con la voz más cansada que nunca, lo observas con aprensión.

—Quédate. —Es lo que logras decir sin que te pese en la conciencia. Estiras tu brazo, es el primer contacto que quieres ejercer desde que regresaste y sientes que la desesperación aborda cada centímetro en tu ser—. Perdóname.

Las lágrimas se posaron también en las comisuras de tus ojos y es lo que necesita Taichi para romper aquella invisible pared en que te habías refugiado, para saltar a tu lado. Te abraza. Con esa fuerza que te hace cerrar los ojos y esconderte en su arco.

Le correspondes, levantando el brazo que no tienes dormido por la jeringa y sientes que muchas de las cargas que habías llevado caen. Se hacen pedazos en el calor de la amistad que te brinda tu amigo. Ni siquiera puedes reclamarle que haya dejado el soccer para venir a ti, porque ese fue tu más grande deseo egoísta, lo que siempre quisiste y ahora finalmente lo tienes. Solo era una palabra, una puta palabra que habría hecho la diferencia.

—Quédate. —repites, hundiéndote en su hombro.

—Nunca me he ido —solloza Taichi, abrazándote con fuerza. Sus manos acunan tu espalda, tan fuerte que duele y es el dolor más hermoso que quieres soportar—. Quiero cargar todo contigo. Incluso la vida, Yamato.

Ahora eres tú el que lo abraza, te hundes en su cuello humedeciéndolo. Ambos lloran. Tan gracioso que pueden consentir a un poema. Taichi se aleja y te ahoga con su mirada. La recibes, cerrando los ojos, dejando que el calor de sus labios derrita el hielo que hay en ti.

Siempre lo has sabido, nunca ha acaecido la verídica amistad entre ambos. Solo un bajo concepto que muchos creen saber y pocos conocen. No existe tal cosa como las almas destinadas, demasiado romanticismo a ideales de una sociedad ilusa. Solo existe algo real y es algo que solo conoces con Taichi. La muñequera que envuelve y cubre las cicatrices de tus venas, te lo demuestra.

Taichi x Yamato.

Un regalo de mi mejor amiga @heirideep (en instagram), que me ha hecho este hermoso Taito. Un arte! <3

Imagen completa, sin censura:

Taichi: I wasn't so drunk.

Koushiro: Yamato tried to kiss you.

Taichi: And what's the problem?

Koushiro: You hit him, saying you had a boyfriend and his name was Yamato Ishida.

I made another one because I can’t get enough of them ;-; 

This time around, the video focuses more on Yamato and his relationship with Taichi..On how both of them couldn’t live without the other beside them, to the point that Yamato is very self-aware of everything regarding the boy ;’(