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dottiechan · 3 years

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ICEBREAKER Pt. 1

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter; Tech x Reader (platonic)

Wordcount: 2389

Summary: Tech watches on helplessly as his brothers' affection for you threaten to ruin the squad.

Warnings: cursing, yearning

You’re just as cold on the inside as the ice is under your boots. It crunches with every step you take, and your heart seems to beat along with the fall of your boots, aching. You feel unsteady, almost enough to miss the tracks running in the snow right in front of you. You pause and crutch down, gloved fingers dipping into the indentations as you grumble to yourself. It’s not even your turn to scope out the area where you’re setting up camp, and besides, there is a literal tracking genius in your squad - it really shouldn’t be you who’s out here in the snow and ice, eyes straining against the blinding white of the planet, fingers freezing off as you set up perimeter alarms. And yet you just volunteered for the less than ideal task without explanation, not understanding your own decision either.

At least Tech offered to tag along, but you suspect he’s simply had enough of his brothers for a while. Not that you can blame him.

“Fascinating.”

You sigh, internally begging him to stop talking as you stand, abandoning the tracks after deciding they most likely belong to a lone whitefang. You have enough on your plate right now, with Hunter still being pissy and Crosshair avoiding you like the plague, and silence would be much more preferable right now to listening to one of Tech’s rambles.

“Did you know that this moon’s surface is almost entirely composed of water?”

“No.”

“Despite the subzero surface temperature, there are subsurface oceans underneath the ice that are warmed by the moon’s internal heat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wish we could stay long enough for me to study the subsurface flora and fauna. There might be plants underneath the ice that-”

“Tech.”

“-that use chemosynthesis-”

“Tech!”

“What?”

He has the decency to look flustered, one hand gripping the datapad tightly, the other flying up to adjust his goggles as he peers up at you. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Sometimes, the confinement of the Marauder is enough to turn you into a ticking time bomb, irritated by the slightest seemingly innocent things. And you’ve had more than just mere sparks to flare your temper as of late.

...

His rifle is spotless, and yet he’s still scrubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it does, because if he jumps up and lowers his guard for a second, he’s out the ship and off to find you and Tech. Maybe you’re a fool sometimes, a god damn nuisance, a person he still couldn’t grow used to, but you belong with them now, you’re theirs, you’re his, and that means something to him. You frustrate him beyond reason, and he often grows callous and agitated because he refuses to allow himself to feel the emotions you elicit from him whenever you’re near him.

Even now, on an ice planet, the mere thought of you infects him with a sweet, sweet jungle fever that knocks him off his feet.

And he’s supposed to be angry now, Crosshair reminds himself. After all, you almost gotten yourself killed on Bracca, and almost broke him in the process.

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Hunter grumbles as he paces up and down like a caged nexu craving to run free. But lately Crosshair began to suspect that he craves something else, someone else, and the thought has his throat tightening in jealousy. He’s been watching, and he convinced himself that he’d misread the signs until he saw the same agitation reflect in his brother’s eyes that he himself has to wrestle with every day.

If it ever came down to your choice, he knows he wouldn’t be it, and he hates living with this knowledge.

Hunter has all the things you seem to like - unlimited kindness, longing looks, smirks that turn a little too soft when directed at you, broad shoulders he caught you staring at more times than he can count. Deep down, he’s still hoping it will never come to you having to choose, but it’s impossible not to wish to be in the centre of your attention. You drive him insane, but you also make him want to commit and stop fighting and lay down his weapons for once in his god damn life.

“Relax. They’re probably fine.”

The screen to their left lights up, and Hunter rushes across the ship in long strides before exhaling in relief. “The proximity alarms are online. They should be heading back soon.”

Crosshair sucks in a breath, worried about seeing his own emotions sitting behind Hunter’s eyes as well.

...

You were assigned to assist the Bad Batch for an unspecified period of time some months ago. You’re a versatile field agent, specialising in both stealth and combat casualty care, one of the few volunteers who were qualified enough to join the GAR. Oh, and you’re also clearly mistrusted by your new squad as they flip out the very moment you risk yourself in the line of duty. You’re not stupid, you weighed the risks carefully, and you trusted your abilities to see you through the job unharmed.

But ever since the incident on Bracca, you’re given the cold shoulder by most on the squad, and for once, the scenery matches your mood.

And yet Tech deserves better than to be cut off like that. He deserves to be listened to, and appreciated as the good man he is. You’re friends, but in moments like these, you think you don’t deserve his friendship.

“Look, I’m... I’m sorry, okay? But right now, I have too much on my mind to think about, umm, chemo...”

“Chemosynthesis?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I think I understand,” he nods, satisfied with your half-assed apology for the time being as he goes back to scanning the vast icy desert stretching as far as the eye can see. The Marauder’s lights blink in the background, orange against the dark blue of the growing darkness that surrounds you. It’s like a beacon, a sign that promises warmth, and you gaze at it longingly until you remember that you’ll have to go back to Crosshair’s scowl and Hunter’s disapproving frown and Wrecker’s awkward little smiles. Somehow, the ice is preferable once more, and the snow that just began to fall in soft flakes is little more than a mild annoyance.

“Well, aside from a few distant life forms-”

“Whitefangs.”

“Yes, most likely whitefangs - aside from those, we should be quite safe inside the ship for tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “You might be. I’m not the most popular with the squad right now, remember?”

“You are a valued addition,” Tech declares, and the certainty in his voice releases inside you the emotional equivalent of a sucker punch. All you can do is stand, and fight the sting of tears in your eyes. You’re confident, but you never in your wildest dreams imagined how difficult it would be to live up to the expectations of a special unit. You also know your worth, but it’s hard to keep on believing in yourself steadfastly when the rest of your squad doubts your every move. “Which is why the prospect of losing you elicits a rather severe emotional reaction in us. It is rare for regs to warm up to us as well as you have, let alone volunteers. Aside from the obvious tactical disadvantage losing you would mean, I believe it is a little more personal than that.”

...

Hunter knows something is off even before one of the alarms is triggered - whatever it is, it is within five clicks of the ship, making you and Tech plenty exposed before he could do anything. He was straining his ear simply to keep you all safe - so what if he accidentally heard your muffled voice, or the soft crunch of snow underneath your boots?

But now is not the time to be idle, and he knows it. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his squad. And to you, he corrects himself almost softly as he grabs his helmet and checks his weapons quickly. Despite the fact that he’s still angry about your previous carelessness, he cannot deny the forbidden yearning coiling in his stomach whenever you’re on his mind, making him just as nervous as hopeful. And to be fair, it happens more and more often as of late, which is both alarming and exciting as he never thought he’d ever have the luxury to feel this way about someone else. Sure, he knows love, he loves his brothers with all his heart even if he isn’t very vocal about it, but this is different. New, scary, exciting different, an effervescent and persevering tingling blinding all his senses.

Crosshair is beside him in less than a second, rifle in hand, silent, and they share a nod before lowering the ramp and rushing out into the freezing dusk.

When he picks up on your muffled voice, he seems to ignore everything as he breaks into a sprint towards you, hoping to reach you in time before you’re in danger. He almost misses the way Crosshair’s heartbeat picks up, the usually stoic man reeking with genuine worry as he looks through the scope of his rifle.

He can deal with this later, Hunter promises himself as he pushes down this uncomfortable feeling. But then he sees you and Tech, and he seems to forget about anything and everything - you have that unfortunate and awfully distracting effect on him.

...

“But Hunter yelled at me for being reckless for a solid hour. And Crosshair said he didn’t care if I wanted to get myself killed, but I should do it in a way that didn’t interfere with the mission. Seriously, what an asshole.”

“Nevermind what they actually say,” Tech waves his hand in mild annoyance. “Hunter was worried sick. Crosshair almost went after you. And they’re both too pigheaded to admit the real reason why they’re so worked up.”

“Which is?”

“Obviously they both view you as a potential romantic partner.”

There’s a moment of pause as you two stare back at one another before you snort and chuckle, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest as a futile attempt at staying warm. “Tech, you need to work on your sense of humour.”

“And you need to work on your observational skills and situational awareness.”

“My observational skills are exceptional,” you defend yourself, a finger held up in the air defiantly. “And my situational awareness is-”

“Lacking, as you didn’t seem to notice the whitefang return. I suggest we head back to the safety of the Marauder.”

Sure enough, the wild cat is there lurking amongst the ice dunes, its eyes glowing in the dark as they reflect the light of the ship. It shouldn’t pose a threat to you as it is alone, and relatively small, but you still consider wrestling with it instead of returning to the ship and facing the rest of the squad - somehow, even that feels like a fight more fair than the ones that await you upon your return. So you hold its gaze as it curiously inspects you, wishing to swap bodies and run away and avoid any more conflict. Before you can even think of returning to the ship, you hear quiet footsteps catching up to you.

“I thought I heard something.”

“It’s probably more curious than anything.”

Hunter unsheaths his vibroblade and twirls it in his hand so theatrically it makes you roll your eyes. He glances at you, shoulders all tense, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of danger, and even though his face is obscured by his helmet, you can almost see the disappointed frown sitting on his features. “You want to test that theory?”

“My money would be on the whitefang winning.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tech.”

“Any time.”

“Relax.” The distorted rasp of your commlink is not enough to drown out the smugness of the sniper. The stand-off ends when a single well-placed shot right before the big cat sends it sprinting away into the darkness. You all turn to find Crosshair standing by the ship, his rifle still aimed at the retreating form of the whitefang.

“Well, there goes my opportunity to finally have an interesting patrol,” you mutter to yourself as you all make it back to the Marauder.

“Do all of your patrols end in you staring down carnivores?” Crosshair snorts, clearly unamused.

“Only the good ones,” you fire back, deciding not to wait for any of them as you head inside. Crosshair is hot on your heels, another string of mockery sitting on the tip of his tongue, because fuck, you’re stubborn, but he’s not going to cave in and tell you how it makes him feel to see you in danger. He can’t, however, put up with being away from you either.

Hunter lingers a little outside. He has to set himself straight, to contain all the things he wants to say you that have nothing to do with scolding you about Bracca, to kill all the feelings that suddenly demand to be felt so desperately. He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, pretending to survey the surroundings of the Marauder. Tech moves in the periphery of his vision, but instead of following you and Crosshair, he steps closer to Hunter.

“I believe the threat’s been averted.”

“Yeah. Good job on setting up those alarms, Tech.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. You should head back inside. The last thing I want is for you to keel over with hypothermia.”

“That’s not how hypothermia works,” Tech mutters, his voice trailing off, eyes uncertain behind his goggles. He suddenly places a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder, making the sergeant glance at him.

“Hunter, I’m only asking this because I care about you all, but... how long do you think this can go on before one of you gets hurt?”

Tech’s words echo in his mind long after he’s rejoined the squad on the ship. And Hunter just stands outside in the snowfall, watching the last rays of light disappear on the horizon, wondering which one of you he’ll have to hurt when the push comes to shove.

#dottiechan writes #hunter x reader x crosshair #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb fanfiction #star wars #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader

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morsking · 3 years

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uhhhhhh to better grasp why rin is a host for both ishtar and ereshkigal and why sakura is a host for both kama and parvati you’re gonna have to read the vn since that is the only place where you will be treated to the different dimensions of both their characters and dispel any illusions and misunderstandings the ubw anime created (about rin in particular). i can explain it well but if you have the ability to, you should read the vn to really let it sink in and appreciate things more organically.

there are times in the anime where rin feels like a caricature of herself since she appears so confident and fun-loving and tsundere about it (the vn sometimes does this too but manages to balance things out a little better) that it overshadows how rin is also in her own way extremely repressed.

rin, while fashioning herself the ruler of her own world and a competent genius is still someone shackled to her duty as the last living tohsaka heir and denies herself a more profound and fundamental happiness because she reasons so long as she is the tohsaka heir, she can never be sakura’s sister, and wrongfully believes that sakura has moved on without her and belongs with the matous oblivious to what zouken has done to sakura for almost 11 years because it’s easier to think that sakura doesn’t care about her anymore than to confront all she’s taught and has lived for for so long is wrong and that she has a chance to make it right. rin however finds ways to keep running into sakura just enough that her true desires betray her efforts at keeping her distance, and if sakura just said “you are my sister, please let’s live together again” no doubt rin would be so torn to hesitate yet so hopeful to as to want it to be real.

rin’s apparent emotional independence and reputation is a product of her purposefully distancing herself from making any real human connections because she has no idea how to be emotionally available from years of stifling aristocratic conditioning. if she puts herself on a pedestal, it’s easier for others to not approach her and see through her facade. apart from that, as much fun as rin could possibly have by herself there is still something that will keep her from feeling truly fulfilled, and that’s the lack of opportunity (and emotional bravery) to reconcile with sakura. it’s also easier to forsake sakura and threaten to kill her when she’s out of control because acknowledging the horror of killing her own sister would break her own convictions and denounce her, and the tohsakas, as murderers and frauds. ishtar is that side of rin that finds being herself and living as the person in charge of her own existence. ereshkigal is the unhappy part of rin that yearns for more than what she’s been given but feels too guilty and too bound by responsibility to seek it out, and therefore denies herself her wish to connect with the person who would make all the difference in the world (sakura for rin, guda for eresh).

sakura is a naturally kind, gentle, yet strong-willed individual who has experienced that which would break and utterly annihilate most at a spiritual level. sakura only survived what she did because her mental fortitude, much like shirou’s, is so exceptional she will always retain her sense of self even if pushed to the very brink of suffering. despite that, she grew up extremely bitter, depressed, and with a disposition that utterly gave up on the world that abandoned her to the point where she wished others to fail and suffer at whatever they endeavored. if her life was pointless and fruitless as to be thrown away, why shouldn’t everyone else’s be too?

it’s really not until she met shirou that she began to change her mind and desire to have more than just numbness. a boy who just wouldn’t give up no matter how many times he couldn’t clear that jump, and accepted the outcome without regrets, second-thoughts, and self-loathing left such a deep impression on sakura that she wanted that thoughtless drive to live freely and greet tomorrow as a given to be hers as well.

little by little the broken doll with lifeless eyes restored more and more of her inner kindness and good faith, both because she gained a will that did more than just curse, and because there was someone who showed her what a real home, a real family looked like so she’d believe in love and happiness again. but much like rin, sakura struggled to believe she deserved happiness. years of abuse crushed sakura’s self-esteem, and thought her suffering made her unlovable and unnatural. her desire to be both loved and pitied clashed against one another, and were also contradictingly one and the same. it would be easy to be pitied, that means she would’ve been right about her hatefulness all along and she can just fade away along with the pain her baggage might’ve caused others. but if she’s loved, then how will she ever make herself worthy of it? how could she ever justify to herself that she’s being given love that hasn’t been earned? and even worse, what if she’s given love that can be lost?

sakura hides all the things that risk her losing all the love she’s accumulated, a desperate selfish tactic employed by a scared girl deathly afraid to lose the only light she’s ever known. if all her anger, bitterness, cowardice, jealousy, scars, and self-hatred were exposed, what would shirou think of her? once he does find out what she’s gone through, she pushes him away. she really believes she’s done for and has nothing else to come back to. even as shirou keeps asserting he does still want her in his life, she keeps hurling all the terrible things she’s done to him and herself without him knowing: that because he’s kiritsugu’s kid she spied on him for zouken, that she used him to run away from zouken and shinji, that she tried to kill herself, that she’s not a virgin, all to get him to reject her for good while guiltily clinging to the hope that he will still choose to love her in spite, or because of all that.

even after sakura’s killed shinji by accident and transforms into dark sakura, a part of herself is weak towards shirou. a part of herself lashes out when he’s around because she’s still rejecting him hoping he’ll forsake her so he’ll live without getting hurt by her while also begging for him to see how much she’s suffering so he’ll save her, going so far at the end that she tells rin to run away with shirou, having decided to kill herself alongside the grail. rin however, sees through sakura’s attempt to earn pity, but in her own fit of duty-induced forced apathy threatens to kill sakura herself before sakura has the chance to wipe herself out (jesus, rin) rather than comfort her and tell her she wishes for her to live. rin though fails to follow through with her plan. just as she overpowers sakura, she throws away all her lies and embraces her sister, telling her how she really feels, and the very first sincere expression of love her sister has shown her in a decade is enough for sakura to stop dead in her tracks and crumble in grief until shirou arrives to save her and insist that she deserves to live so that all the suffering she both caused and experienced and all the people she devoured can be given meaning. this parallels into how kama as beast iii/L wishes to render all love obsolete by drowning the universe in love to the point where all love becomes meaningless and kama no longer has to be hurt by love, with their defeat marking a change in their beliefs about the world and themself.

parvati tells you as much that she’s taken over sakura’s good side. she’s the earnest hardworking woman who is full of benevolence and enthusiasm after her purpose has become clear. however, what parvati doesn’t understand is that sakura’s good qualities are intermixed with her darker ones and fundamentally cannot ever be truly separated, and that’s why parvati also connects with sakura’s tendency to hide the ugly things about herself out of fear she’ll be rejected, and that it’s wrong and harmful for her to do that to sakura as much (if not worse) as it is for sakura to do it for herself alongside all the people that could be affected by that dishonesty.

apart from the obvious gross reasons, there is in fact a good justification for kama’s ascensions in fgo. their ascensions go from child to adolescent to adult to demonstrate that kama has a parallel to sakura’s personal growth. they are both individuals who, after being betrayed by their own kind (the gods and the tohsakas) and having their bodies destroyed (kama becoming the cosmos, sakura being devoured by crest worms and having her dna rewritten), have lost faith in who they were before and the world around them. kama starts out in sakura’s child body: the young girl who was sacrificed for a greater purpose and whose heart has been filled with depression, cynicism, and hatred for the world around her. their childish disposition however, marks that kama has truly been reborn and is going through the process of recreating their identity after it was shattered by trauma.

when kama is in sakura’s adolescent form, that signals that much like sakura around that age, they still cling to some anger and bitterness, but have begun to ease into forming new connections and their desire to be identified with love becomes complicated as it is both heavily resisted yet profoundly wanted. it is kama at their peak self-loathing, directing hatred to themself as much as their child form did to everyone else.

when kama shifts into sakura’s final adult form, it marks the period where they both have had some of their faith renewed in their existence. while it is still very difficult for them to truly know what love is and whether or not they’ve earned it, they nonetheless make it clear they want to believe in it again with the help of the person they’ve placed their trust upon (shirou for sakura, guda for kama). as the god of love, for kama to learn what love is is for kama to once more understand what it is to love themself again, and like sakura at the end of heaven’s feel finish constructing their brand new identity and move forward in a way that their happiness and reforged self-confidence can dignify their suffering and make up for all the damage they caused others and themselves.

this isn’t to say that pseudos as a concept are inherently good or anything. they are still very flawed because when mishandled for fanservice (and it happens a LOT) they do far more to displease both fans of the mythological figures and fans of the original fate/stay night characters simultaneously than to appease them both by robbing all characters involved of their complexities. regardless, that doesn’t mean that these gods wearing the faces of these girls is entirely pointless, lazy, and thoughtless. on the contrary, these girls were chosen because of all the different facets they have that match their possessors’ demeanors and themes, and i hope that this knowledge can help people see the connection with more clarity.

#anyway ooku event spoilers and vn spoilers for those who wanna go in blind #you don't have to reblog this if you don't feel like it i mostly typed this all out for myself #because i got tired of seeing either bad or somewhat disinformed pseudo servant takes #and needed to say something to keep my sanity

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

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DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.10 Sakamaki Reiji [Track 9+10]

Original title: 愛や恋 & 私のもの

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 10: Sakamaki Reiji [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: I still have Ayato’s CD left to translate, but I think this might be the MB CD I enjoyed the most out of all the S boys. Subaru is definitely up there as well because he’s my bias. However, Subaru’s had more heavy breathing and blood-sucking noises which aren’t really my thing. xD Reiji is honestly that character I never mention when someone asks me for my favorites, but whenever I listen to his CDs, I end up enjoying them so much. I guess it’s because I low key vibe with him, haha. I’m also a horrible perfectionist.

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 9: LOVE AND ROMANCE (1)

“Haah...Nn…”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah, haah...Do you want more…? Mmh...Nn…”

*Gulp*

[00:25] “Haahー ...Aah...This hot blood gliding down my throat is messing with my head...I want to chase after it...I’m reluctant to let it go, as I find myself wishing I could simply suck your blood forever...Those kind of boorish thoughts end up filling my head. Usually I would think of that dreamy look in your eyes to be shameful or disgraceful, but for some reason...You look so very beautiful, or even charming, to me right now.”

*Rustle*

[01:17] “I even find myself wishing to kiss you...Mmh...Nn…”

*Smooch*

“Haah...I wonder if by capturing your lips, I wish to confirm that you do indeed belong to me? Mmh…”

*Gulp*

[01:47] “Hah...Ah...For some reason, you are so incredibly precious to me right now...I thought this indescribable, complicated feeling was irritation, but it might have actually been love. ...Fufu, how could I think something so ridiculous? It seems like this place has made me quite sentimental. I am sure I do not need to tell you that love and romance are nothing but illusions. They’re nothing but euphemisms used only so one can push their dirty desires onto someone else. Put differently, it's a swindler's clever talk. Such sentiments do not exist in this world. Yet to think that I nearly find myself drowning in them...I bet you cannot accept me as your Master when I am like this either, can you? I should be more arrogant and cold-hearted, treating you in a strict fashion. It is simply unthinkable that I would be exchanging sweet kisses and proclaiming my love...However…”

*Rustle*

[03:27] “I cannot stop. I want to kiss you. ーー Nor do I want anyone else to have even a single drop of your blood. I find myself wishing I could quench this thirst with you forever. ...How about you?”

You confirm your mutual feelings.

[03:53] “Fufu...Fufufu...Right. I suppose you already can no longer live without me either. I can hear your body screaming, wishing to accept the pain inflicted upon it by me. Am I right?”

You nod.

[04:21] “Haah...Seems like I have completely fallen for their trap. However, now that I have, I suppose there is no point in fighting back. I will simply give in, without struggling, and wait for the right opportunity. If I lose myself by indulging in my own desires, entrusting myself to them to the point where even this tune becomes music to my ears...Victory will be mine. Fufufu...So much so that whoever is watching this, will go mad from sheer jealousy.

TRACK 10: MINE

*Rustle*

“I will prove to them that you are mine. Haah…Mmh...Nn…”

*Gulp gulp*

[00:15] “Mmh...Mm…Haah, haahー You should yearn for this as well...Be honest to yourself...and liberate your mind...There is simply no point in feeling shame any more, as we are already at the point of no return.”

*Rustle*

[00:40] “It is no sin to succumb to pleasure. Depending on the time and place, that is. Fufu...Exactly. Desire more of it...What exactly is it that you want from me? My fangs? Or perhaps my heart? ...Very well. While it will only last as long as this moment does, at present, both my body and soul belong to you.”

*Rustle*

[01:25] “You must feel quite satisfied to hear those words from me. You succeeded at making me fall. However, that simply does not matter right now. Of course, I do find this ridiculous myself as well. Only a fool lives in the moment. Would you not agree? However, not even that bothers me right now. Rather than fussing over the small details, I want to give myself over to you. That is my only wish.”

*Rustle*

[02:12] “Well then...Where shall I bite you next? Your nape has caught my attention this whole time now. As if it is telling me to latch onto it. I wonder if it reflects your feelings…?”

Reiji sniffs your skin.

[02:38] “Haah...What a lovely scent. I wonder what it is? Ah, yes. I recognize this smell. It is the smell of fragrant orchids. Flowers lure in others by their color and scent. In other words, you are trying to seduce me this way, are you not? Fufufu...Haah...It truly is a wonderful fragrance. So sweet, it makes my head spin.”

*Smooch*

[03:23] “Haah...Placing a kiss upon your skin only made the scent even stronger. I wonder if the flower has bloomed? Now is not the time to dawdle. You should bloom even more at the hand of my fangs. You are an orchid who unfurls her petals upon having her blood sucked, after all.”

*Rustle*

[03:53] “You can take pride in that. Fufufu...Well then, as you desire…”

*Rustle rustle*

“I’ll plunge my fangs in as much as you want, wherever you wish…Mmh...Nn…”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) 愛 (ai) and 恋 (koi) can both be found as ‘love’ in the dictionary. However, how it was thought to me by a native Japanese speaker, is that ‘ai’ (which I translated as ‘love’ here), is the broader term. You can love your partner, but also your family, friends, etc. Meanwhile ‘koi’ (translated as ‘romance’ here) is limited to the person you are in a romantic relationship with.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers more blood #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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ayuuria · 3 years

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Inuyasha Translation: Animage Magazine February 2010 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

This was a translation request from @officialinuyasha. This article was published back when “Inuyasha the Final Act” was still airing.

Proof of the Successor

Tenseiga was a sword that was cut off from Tessaiga along with Meidōzangetsuha. Then is Inuyasha worthy of wielding the Tessaiga? Sesshōmaru has finally gone into serious mode. The unprecedented brother showdown is about to begin!

Sesshōmaru in “Inuyasha The Final Act” gave off the impression that he developed a compassionate heart in comparison to before. Not only did he have a soft gaze when he attended Kagura’s death but he also put himself at risk to save Rin who fell into the underworld.

However, on the one hand, he continued to hold a heart that stoically yearned for insatiable power. The one offensive technique that Tenseiga, “The sword of healing”, obtained: “Meidōzangetsuha”. At first, it could only open a small meidō in the shape of a crescent moon, but after several ordeals, it matures to the point that it can open a gigantic meidō close to the shape of a circle. All of this came about from Sesshōmaru’s ability.

However, no matter how much of a powerful sword Tenseiga becomes, Sesshōmaru was unable to throw away his obsession with Tessaiga. It was then that he learned through his battle with Shishinki that Tenseiga was a sword that was cut off from Tessaiga. Did his father give him Tessaiga’s unneeded aspect? Sesshōmaru, whose pride has been hurt, purposely goes along with Naraku’s trap.

Inuyasha vs Sesshōmaru. The not so long-ago clash between the brothers over Tessaiga is about to begin. Who is the rightful successor!?

Brothers with the Same Father

A full-fledged demon and half-demon but the two resemble each other somehow.

While they both have the same father, there’s a big difference in ability and thought process towards humans between Sesshōmaru, a full-fledged demon, and Inuyasha, a half-demon with a human mother. Inuyasha previously loved Kikyō and desperately protects Kagome. Sesshōmaru on the other hand, had no interest in humans. However, Rin’s existence has brought about change within his heart. Just as his mother said, did Sesshōmaru perhaps inherit his attachment to humans from his father?

A Strengthened Tessaiga

From numerous past battles, Tessaiga has become the most powerful weapon.

Tessaiga was originally a fang of Inuyasha’s greater demon father. Tōtōsai forged it into a sword and it became Inuyasha’s weapon. Afterwards, Inuyasha mastered various techniques such as the Wind Scar, Backlash Wave, and Adamant Barrage. In addition, Tessaiga has the ability to transform itself as well as becoming the barrier breaking red Tessaiga and the demon vortex cutting dragon-scaled Tessaiga. Furthermore, from the clash with Sesshōmaru, Tessaiga will climb to new heights.

Tessaiga and Tenseiga

The powerful weapon Tessaiga and the dead reviving Tenseiga

Inuyasha’s father entrusted him with Tessaiga. Meanwhile, Sesshōmaru was entrusted with “Tenseiga”, a sword that can revive the dead. Sesshōmaru exasperates dissatisfaction with Tenseiga as it cannot be used in battle. However, from obtaining Meidōzangetsuha, Tenseiga has become a powerful weapon. Sesshōmaru raised Tensaiga from only being able to open a small, crescent moon shaped meidō at the beginning, to being able to open a gigantic meidō in the shape of a near circle. However…

The Truth Behind Meidōzangetsuha

In order to strengthen Tessiaga, father used Sesshōmaru and Tenseiga?

Meidōzangetsuha was technique that their father stole from Shishinki. According to Shishinki, their father did not know what to do with Meidōzangetsuha and thus had Tenseiga created in order to cast it off of Tessaiga. Perhaps their father entrusted Sesshōmaru with Tenseiga in order to complete Meidōzangetsuha which a half-demon like Inuyasha couldn’t handle and then have (the technique) entrusted to Inuyasha someday? This gave birth to doubt within Sesshōmaru.

Naraku’s Trap

While realizing it is a trap set up by Naraku, Sesshōmaru purposely goes along with it.

Through Shishinki’s words, Sesshōmaru’s attachment to Tessaiga strengthened. There was no way Naraku would overlook the movement in his heart. The mirror fragment that Kanna (who died) left behind. While it was only a small piece, it did not lose the ability to take and duplicate an enemy’s technique. Sesshōmaru, who receives the fragment from Byakuya of the Mirage, puts it on Tenseiga while knowing it’s one of Naraku’s traps and challenges Inuyasha to a battle.

The Role of Sesshōmaru, Narita Ken

— Episode 15 “The Rightful Successor” depicts a fierce battle with Inuyasha. What were your thoughts when you enacted (that episode)?

Narita: I felt very tense through the whole thing and it was as though the content was reminding me of the movie. (translator’s note: He’s referring to the 3rd Inuyasha movie, Swords of the Honorable Ruler)

— Sesshōmaru says to Inuyasha “Show me Inuyasha. Proof that you are Tessaiga’s successor and not I.” and commences battle with him. Narita-san, how do you comprehend his feelings towards his father regarding Tenseiga and his anger towards Inuyasha?

Narita: I believe all of it is hatred. Only one with power should have a perfect sword. I think that natural thought is the sole source of his anger towards Inuyasha.

— In episode 15, do you think Sesshōmaru was truly trying to kill Inuyasha? Or was he merely testing him?

Narita: I believe it was both. Those without power die. There is no love or sympathy in that.

— In a previous conversation with Yamaguchi-san, he stated that Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru are jealous of each other. Having acted in “The Final Act” up to the midway point, how do you once again perceive Sesshōmaru’s relationship to Inuyasha?

Narita: I think there was jealousy at the beginning. However now, it’s not something that petty but rather, who’s stronger. I think it’s this single point.

— Sesshōmaru relinquishes Meidōzangetsuha. What do you think this will bring about for him?

Narita: Growth. More strength.

— I would like to ask regarding the two in Sesshōmaru’s team. What sort of feelings do you think Sesshōmaru has for Rin?

Narita: A part within his heart. Like a nostalgic part that he lacks.

— In episode 9, Sesshōmaru saved Rin who had fallen into the underworld. In that episode, which scene left an impression on you?

Narita: The last scene where Sesshōmaru says, “You’re alright now”

— In addition, in episode 9, Sesshōmaru’s mother appears. What is your impression of her? What do you think mother and son have in common and what in way are they different?

Narita: That coldness. Indifference. She also had a comical aspect which I did not expect.

— Regarding the fussy Jaken, what do you think is the reason Sesshōmaru moves with him despite everything?

Narita: I think it’s because it can’t be helped. Like someday he might be useful for something.

— Jaken has a lot of funny lines. If there is a line that left a lasting impression on you, please tell us.

Narita: There’s so many that I can’t say just one.

— The amount of people that Sesshōmaru has connections with is gradually increasing. What sort of growth do you think he will achieve going foward?

Narita: I wish that Sesshōmaru himself never changes. I want him to maintain his sublime aloofness.

— In addition to giving the fans a message, please tell us how you will prepare to act Sesshōmaru in the second half of the series.

Narita: Thank you for always supporting me. In my mind, he has not changed. Any sort of love or kindness has nothing to do with his solitary world. Even if he becomes able to understand the hearts of humans, his heart will never be like the others. Please continue to watch over us.

Our Beloved Lord Sesshōmaru!?

From the point of view of Inuyasha’s party, Sesshōmaru is unsociable and completely does his own thing. But to Jaken and Rin, his existence is precious. Here we have a special feature regarding the two’s “love” for Lord Sesshōmaru!

The very powerful Lord Sesshōmaru. Why someone like him who has lived his life without relying on anyone, purposely moving together with Jaken and Rin? If you were to say it, I think it’s because the two of them are very cute. At first glance, Jaken is a middle-aged small demon with an underhanded personality that makes unnecessary comments and lies. However, you truly cannot hate that sense of restlessness. Rin, on the other hand, is a genuinely cute girl. Sesshōmaru listens to their arguments without the slightest change of expression but in reality, could he perhaps be biting down that amusement in his heart?

Finally, the best part about the two of them is their overflowing “love” for Lord Sesshōmaru. Sesshōmaru is of the strongest class within the “Inuyasha” world but when you see the two of them getting close to him, you can’t help but think the 3 of them are having fun in spite of it all.

Character Bios

Sesshōmaru As an aloof existence, Sesshōmaru has lived his life as he pleases. However, the existence of Tessaiga and Tensaiga leads his heart astray. And now to the brother’s showdown!

Jaken A small demon who serves as Sesshōmaru’s servant. While he makes blatant lies, he’s an existence that one can’t hate. He does not intend to lose to anyone when it comes to loyalty to Lord Sesshōmaru.

Rin A girl who lost her life after being attacked by man-eating wolves but was revived by Sesshōmaru’s “Healing Tenseiga”. Innocent and cheerful, she bares a carefree personality. Her special trait is her severe jabs at Jaken’s remarks.

The One in Charge of Reactions

The extremely cool Sesshōmaru does not break his facial expression easily, no matter what kind of enemy appears or what the enemy says to him. It is there that Jaken fulfills that important role. It is when Jaken is surprised and talks back to the enemy that the (conversational) exchange between Sesshōmaru’s party and the enemy begins to proceed. In other words, Jaken is in charge of reactions within Sesshōmaru’s party. There are times where he unintentionally goes overboard though…

The Life That Was Saved Twice

In episode 9, Rin is kidnapped and taken into the underworld. Sesshōmaru struggles hard to save Rin but Tenseiga can only revive a person once. Without the aid of Sesshōmaru’s mother, Rin would have remained dead. Sesshōmaru looks at Rin softly as she slowly opens her eyes. It was a scene that made you wonder what Sesshōmaru would do when Rin grows up.

You See, the Greatest Combination Within “Inuyasha” is the Silliness and Jabs of Jaken x Rin.

Jaken makes exaggerated and underhanded remarks and Rin jabs at them. There are some periodic gags that are sharp within “Inuyasha the Final Act” but the combination of these two is superb. For example, in episode 3

Jaken “Lord Sesshōmaru’s heart is perfect!”

Rin “He’s strong and kind~”

Jaken *teary eyed* “I don’t know anything about kindness.”

After that, there’s episode 14 that made the voice actor for Jaken, Chō-san, roar with laughter.

Jaken “I’m included with the small people?”

Rin “Master Jaken, you’re small in a lot of ways. Your height, heart, and personality.”

I wonder which dialogue between Jaken x Rin made all of you laugh the most?

The Role of Jaken, Chō

— Episode 15 “The Rightful Successor” depicts a fierce battle between Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru. How was the recording?

Chō: It was terrific. Especially Inuyasha’s yelling as there was a high amount of enthusiasm.

— Jaken appears to be the spokesperson for Sesshōmaru’s emotions (sometimes he gets it wrong though). What sort of feelings do you think he has towards Sesshōmaru?

Chō: Love itself. There’s something there that’s not just a master-servant relationship.

— Jaken has many humorous lines but having acted up to episode 15, which scene left an impression on you?

Chō: I love his reaction when Rin told him “Master Jaken, your personality and heart are small”

— There is silliness and jabs with Rin and they make a good combo. What is your impression of the dialogues with Noto-san? What is the fun part about acting?

Chō: Rin makes some pretty sadistic jabs. Jaken, who’s a masochist, is surprisingly happy with them.

— Jaken sometimes makes obvious lies. It is a refreshing level of falsehood but why does he do that?

Chō: He’s childish.

— What do you think is Jaken’s happiness?

Chō: Lord Sesshōmaru’s happiness.

— In addition to giving the fans a message, please tell us how you will prepare to act Jaken in the second half of the series.

Chō: I will play around while focusing!

The Role of Rin, Noto Mamiko

— Episode 15 “The Rightful Successor” depicts a fierce battle between Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru. How was the recording?

Noto: It had quite a tense feeling, and it pulled me deeper into the story.

— In episode 9, Rin fell into the underworld and was saved by Sesshōmaru. How did you feel seeing Sesshōmaru doing his utmost at the time?

Noto: I once again felt that Rin was truly precious to Sesshōmaru.

— Among the Rin scenes up to episode 15, which one left an impression on you?

Noto: I like the scene in episode 9 where after she’s saved by Sesshōmaru and opens her eyes, she says “Lord Sesshōmaru……” with a feeling of relief. There are a lot of other impressionable scenes so it’s hard to narrow it down (laughs).

— There is silliness and jabs with Jaken and they make a good combo. What is your impression of the dialogues with Chō-san? What is the fun part about acting?

Noto: Chō-san’s Jaken is the best!! Just the fact that I can dialogue with him makes me happy! Rin is quite harsh so acting that part is fun (laughs).

— What sort of feelings do you think Rin has for Sesshōmaru? Also, if Rin becomes an adult as is, how do you think those feelings will change?

Noto: It might be a little different from family, but I think she considers him as someone who is irreplaceably precious. When she becomes an adult…… I can’t really imagine it (laughs). It would be wonderful if she comes to (romantically) love him (laughs). However, I have a feeling (her feelings) won’t change. With Rin as she is now.

— What do you think is Rin’s happiness?

Noto: I think it’s being together with Sesshōmaru and Jaken.

— In addition to giving the fans a message, please tell us how you will prepare to act Rin in the second half of the series.

Noto: “Inuyasha the Final Act” is a truly passionate drama!!!! I plan to act with everything I’ve got alongside everyone until the end so please treat me well!!

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha The Final Act #translation

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

Out Tonight (Part 6)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Nipple Play

<- Part 5

Summary: Backstory, Spanish lessons, and finally some sober sex! 🥳 (This chapter is very NSFW/18+)

For @thatesqcrush’s Kink Bingo challenge! And with this, I finally finish a row!

5,420 words

The twenty-minute coffee date Rafael Barba had been dreading somehow turned into hours without him realizing it. The summer morning passed quickly until the sun was at its zenith above the turtle pond, and all of the work-related responsibilities he would have been grinding himself to death on had slipped his mind as he wandered through the park with your hand in his.

It turned out that you did have a few things in common. You both grew up in the Bronx. Though when you told him where, he snorted and joked, “What is an upstanding young lady from Spuyten Duyvil doing with a boy from the projects?”

Your jaw dropped when he told you what neighborhood he grew up in. It was an area you were familiar with mainly as a place to avoid, especially, god forbid, at night. The clean-cut lawyer in a sharp suit did not look anything like what you’d expect from the poverty he came from. You just assumed his family was wealthy.

“That’s incredible,” you said, a new surge of admiration for him stoking the fire of your attraction. You scooted closer on the shaded bench beneath a tall oak you’d stopped to sit on, your bare leg pressing against his slacks. You still hadn’t kissed, everything just barely skirting the romantic. The touch of his hand shot electricity through your skin, just from his fingers brushing yours. Neither of you wanted to push things too far, too fast, considering the guilt still lingering between you. “You must be a genius.”

Instead of boasting with the sly, cocky grin you had learned was among his favorite facial expressions, he grew serious, all but a trace of a smile leaving his lips. “I just worked hard,” he said.

“Really hard,” you said, knowingly, squeezing his hand. “Even people who work hard, who are smart… it’s almost impossible to escape that kind of poverty. The fact that you did it is…”

His inquisitive eyes, matching the foliage behind him, were strained as if deciding whether to share something or not. But he did, quietly. “I still work hard. Every day. It feels like if I make one false step, everything could fall apart. But, I have enough to support my mother.”

“And an impressive collection of ties,” you chimed.

He smirked, lifting your hand to casually press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “And suspenders.”

Your pulse raced. Looking up and down this flawlessly stylish man, it all made sense. “Dressed to kill,” you muttered. “You wear it like a disguise.”

He frowned, the warmth leaving his eyes. You had touched a nerve. “Would it be a disguise if you wore it, or just because I’ll always be poor deep down?”

“I didn’t mean—OK, I get how that sounded. I just mean… you are exceptionally attractive. Like, really attractive. I mean, why am I telling you? You know that. Look at you.” You continued the obsequious flattery until a sarcastic smile appeared in the corner of his lips. “You know, actually,” you admitted, “I only grew up in a good neighborhood because my dad re-married rich. The weeks I was with my mom… she worked three jobs just to support me and a crummy apartment. I could never actually count on what the step-family would pay for, so sometimes I rode on boats with rich people, and sometimes I lived off canned pasta. It was weird.”

He looked at you appraisingly as he assimilated this new tidbit of information. “It isn’t easy, straddling two worlds.”

“Except you worked your ass off to break into one, and I ran away into the woods and got really into trees. Trees don’t judge you for not fitting in.”

“I’m sorry for judging you,” he whispered, his voice turning surprisingly tender. He lifted a hand and gently brought it to your cheek. You closed your eyes as it made contact, his palm warm against your skin, the pad of his thumb soft as it began stroking your cheek. You leaned forward, and he closed the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours, slow and sweet. It was chaste at first, and careful, but neither of you wanted to break it, and as it continued, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your shoulder, drawing you in deeper as his heady scent enveloped you, the taste of coffee on his tongue as his lips parted.

“Barba?”

Rafael practically jumped out of your arms as an inquisitive voice called his name, leaving you kissing the air. The voice belonged to a tall brunette woman pushing a toddler along in a stroller.

“Liv!” he practically shrieked in alarm, straightening himself.

You looked between them and the kid, and felt like such an idiot. “Oh my god, you are cheating!”

Liv gave you a look, and burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, nothing like that. I’m Sergeant Benson, SVU,” she extended you a firm handshake and explained, “I work with Barba on a lot of cases.” She turned back to Barba with an amused smirk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Counselor, I didn’t realize you had a personal life.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying. How’s Noah?”

“He’s perfect,” she smiled, cooing at the curly-haired child. “He loves the turtles, so we’re going down to the pond. Beautiful day for a nature walk.”

“She knows every tree,” Barba volunteered, puffing his chest out with the same cockiness he used to talk about himself, tipping his head at you. “Go ahead, test her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liv said, bemused. She gave a polite nod and a reminder that she still owed Barba a coffee for some legal thing he had come through on (which only gave you a slight pang of jealousy), and then waved goodbye, walking down the path toward the water.

You sat in silence, recovering. Barba was obviously scandalized to have been caught in a compromising position by a colleague, the tips of his ears turning red. You were glad she wasn’t his wife, but didn’t love having to suddenly confront the fact that he had an entire social life you knew absolutely nothing about. It sort of ruined the intimacy of the moment, tearing the cardboard moon out of your sky too soon.

Barba broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out groan. He turned to you, his eyes soft but flashing with passion, taking your hands in his again. “If we start seeing each other… there is a good chance you will get to know Liv in some capacity.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, and on the exhale beseeched, “You cannot tell her how we met.”

The earnestness with which he implored you, holding both your hands, made you burst out laughing. He did a poor job hiding his smile as he watched you double over. When you finally contained yourself, you pecked an innocent kiss to his lips. “We can say we met at a bar. We don’t have to mention all the, uh...” Karaoke. Drunken shenanigans. Dubious consent. Whatever you call we-didn’t-have-penis-in-vagina-sex-but-you-fingered-me-until-we-orgasmed. He grimaced with you as you both recalled all of the things you would not be telling anyone about your meet-cute. Then you started remembering his fingers gliding in and out of you, his hungry lips marking up your skin, and a warm shiver ran down your back. He swallowed, seeing the lustful heaviness creep into your eyes and responding with his own.

He nearly kissed you again, wrapping you in a passionate embrace that would have hastened you to a bedroom, but you pulled back. He said “seeing each other.” You thought this was a fun fling with no strings attached, and the idea that he was already thinking about more made your heart sink with guilt. “I should tell you...”

You never got to finish your thought. Liv had only gotten fifty feet when her phone rang. She was yelling into it frantically, demanding answers. Barba’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Liv stormed back up the path, waving to him. “There’s been a… development,” she said, censoring the case details in your presence. “They need me at the precinct. You’re probably going to want to come, too.”

“I believe I am already being summoned,” he replied, checking his phone.

“Good. I need to call the sitter. Please let everyone know I’m on my way.” She hurried off, and any hint of flirtation was gone from Barba’s eyes as he stood, fully back in cold lawyer mode as he made a phone call, then another to order a Lyft.

He was already walking with quick, purposeful steps toward the nearest exit of the park when he hung up his last call and turned back to you apologetically. You had been trailing behind him, unsure if he wanted you to follow, and didn’t miss that you were an afterthought. But his regret was sincere. And the truth was, you didn’t mind this serious version of Barba at all—the sober Barba who poured his soul into getting justice and would forget a date he had been enjoying the instant duty called—because you’d seen the drunk version who fell apart, sobbing in your arms when he let down the victims. He had a hard side and a soft side, and so far, there was nothing about him that you didn’t like.

Oh god, you had a crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an emergency,” he explained, brow furrowed heavily over yearning green eyes.

Oh god, this was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Maybe a few nights, but a stand nonetheless. How dare he look at you like that?

“It’s alright. It sounds important,” you half smiled.

“Can I call you later?” he asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had none of the confident swagger usually in his voice. It was a small, hopeful sort of question that told you there were real emotional stakes to your answer.

Oh god, did he have a crush on you, too? Did you have a crush on each other? This was terrible!

Drawn in as if by a magnetic pull, you closed the short distance, threaded your hands between his arms and body, and clasped them together behind his back. His lips quirked as his confidence returned. His hands cupped the sides of your face, then his mouth crashed against yours, fired with all of the passion of desire realized and reciprocated, relief, and longing. It was the type of kiss that would have been drawn out and sensual if it hadn’t been condensed by necessity into a hurried goodbye. You were out of breath and overheated when he broke it, seconds later.

“I’ll be waiting,” you breathed. He gave a hungry growl and a sharp, promising stare that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core before running to catch his ride.

***

Barba hated intelligent psychopaths. Even after they’d been put away, there was always some new appeal to fight, a new witness to come forward, some clever misdirection to cast their crimes into doubt. He’d been running around since noon working out deals with witnesses, obtaining warrants, and warning Liv’s detectives that they were being played. Now the sun was hanging low in the sky, and he realized he had never heard Carmen’s futile warning for him to go home already because his secretary didn’t work on weekends when he was pulling overtime. It was just him and his headache.

The time. What time was it?

He sat bolt upright in his leather office chair and groped for his phone. There was a notification from you from an hour ago that he vaguely recalled hearing buzz.

“How’s the emergency?”

He cursed and checked the time. It was getting late. Too late to make a reservation at any of the swankier restaurants he could take you. But he called you anyway, and was delighted when you answered.

“Hey. It’s Barba,” he said.

“I know,” said your amused voice on the other end of the line. “Your contact is in my phone, Sexy Karaoke Lawyer.”

He groaned in a way that was secretly a laugh. “Alright, Lorax. Are you free tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner. Actually, I thought I could make dinner. At my place?”

You gasped with mock scandalization. “Is this a booty call, Mr. Barba?”

He choked. “No. I just—” He stopped stammering when you started cackling like a grinning idiot, and his voice dropped low. “What if it is?”

The sudden shift in confidence caught you off guard, and he heard you swallow. “Then I’ll be there.”

***

It had been ages since he’d had time to make his abuelita’s costillas de puerco recipe. Or rather, it had been ages since he’d made time, considering he hardly had the time to do it now. He rushed through the corner deli at lightning pace to pick up what he needed, and rushed through prep, knowing you’d be over in less than an hour.

He had no idea why he felt such a drive to impress you. Why he needed to see you again so soon when you’d spent hours by his side that morning. The entire short time he had known you had been strange, anxiety-inducing, and guilt-ridden, but instead of hating you, he found himself wanting more.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was, every interaction with you, no matter how awkward, had been underscored by a potent sexual chemistry, and at the moment, he was nothing but a horny teenage boy who wanted to get laid.

That was all. This was some mid-forties hormonal resurgence. Madre de dios, it was a midlife crisis.

Or maybe this was what happened when he stopped getting in his own way. He’d spent years nursing a broken heart, years that turned into decades guarding himself against anyone getting too close. He never thought he’d feel this way again for somebody new. It was too late in life to meet someone who would know him as well as his childhood friends from el barrio, and they were all married by now. But he’d opened himself up just an inch, just for a night, by mistake, and let someone see past the hard, cynical facade, and now he wanted you to know him. He wanted to know you. He wanted to see how this ended. Maybe this was a revelation.

His heart jumped in his chest at the buzz of the door intercom.

***

“Hola, Rafael,” you greeted, and he grinned at the way you pronounced his name with the correct accent. “Oh my gosh, what smells amazing?”

He stood aside and nodded you in. The apartment was tiny, as most city apartments are, but tidy and well decorated. You were immediately drawn to the sturdy dining room table made of solid burl, and admired the natural chaotic pattern of the grain.

“It needs fifteen more minutes,” he said, observing with amusement how you completely ignored the good silver he’d broken out and started stroking the wood.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” you pouted innocently. Barba growled low in his throat, cupping a hand around your hip to draw you close, and you responded by pressing your hips flush against his, smiling lustily. Well, you had more or less agreed that dinner was a pretense for a booty call—no reason not to get right to it.

You hadn’t changed, but he was wearing a more casual wine-colored cashmere sweater, and you ran your hand up it, relishing the velvet softness under your palm as well as the shape of his chest. His lips met yours hot and searching, but didn’t stop there. They trailed over the side of your mouth, kissing down your jaw. He pressed wet, hungry kisses along your neck, and you moaned as his tongue lapped over the soft underside of your throat, his hands gliding over your hips. He pulled back by an inch. “Are you sure… you want this?” he murmured.

“God yes,” you moaned with your lips in his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, arousal raising your temperature as your body responded to his touch. “You haven’t been drinking this time?”

“Not a drop,” he replied huskily, somehow making it sound lewd as he resumed kissing the crook of your neck, and over your shoulder. You curled your fingers through his hair, and backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the table, and rested your weight against it, enjoying the feeling of being pinned as you angled your pelvis to grind against his growing erection.

“Oh, Rafa...” you moaned. “Can I call you Rafa?” you asked, not sure if the nickname was too personal. With the emotional baggage of your first night together, you hadn’t been sure if being on a first-name basis was respectful enough.

“You can call me anything you want,” he purred, his teeth gently pinching your shoulder.

You made a deep, chesty noise, sinfully considering that. “Don’t give me such broad permission, or you might regret it… papi.”

He groaned, and you felt his cock kicking against your cunt. Bunching up your skirt over your hips, you rocked your hips against him, panting just from feeling the strength of his arousal through his clothes. “Yes,” he hissed softly, holding you firmly against him as he worked his clothed erection against your panties, growing more excited with every mewl and shudder it drew from your lips. “That night was… moronic… but I remember the way I felt… how much I wanted you.” He turned his head and sucked a light bruise into your neck. “Do you still feel that way?”

You dipped your head to coax him back to your mouth, his pink lips wet with saliva as your tongue tasted them. “I wanted you to fuck me so bad,” you groaned, jerking your hips for emphasis on the word fuck. “But your fingers are very skilled… and your mouth...” You kissed him again, and felt his hand reach between your legs to slide your panties off.

His fingers paused halfway down the elastic. “Is this moving too fast?” he panted, suddenly trying to be reasonable. The kind of thing you would worry about if you were building a long-term relationship.

“Shh,” you hushed him gently. “I don’t want to think about too fast or too slow, or how different our lives are, or what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just two strangers having fun. Can’t it just be that?”

He kissed you so softly, then. So tenderly that he could only have been subliminally trying to convince you of something more. His heart drummed with possessive affection; he already knew he wanted more than just tonight. At least the primitive, reckless part of him that didn’t overthink and over-plan every decision did. The rational part of him and the part that would say anything to please you came to an accord as he nodded, lips moving against your skin, “It can be.”

You grabbed his wrist and helped him slip your underwear the rest of the way off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His fingers didn’t immediately plunge themselves into your drenched folds, and his hips didn’t immediately return to grind against your wetness. His intelligent, cocky green eyes gave you a probing stare.

“Y qué quieres hacer esta noche?” he purred, low and seductive, giving you a choice.

“Oh, papi, me encanta cuándo hablas español. I want you to do anything you want to me. Anything,” you moaned, fairly certain that, with one or two exceptions, you really meant it. This man turned you on in ways you’d never experienced. There was nothing you wouldn’t try if he wanted it, and you knew he’d stop the second you asked, which made you feel bolder.

He chuckled. “Don’t give me such broad permission, dulce naturalista.”

The promise of mischief in his voice made you shiver, your cunt dripping. “Anything, papi. I just… want to know that you want me.”

He hummed. “This dress, this flimsy thing,” he hooked his index fingers through the narrow shoulder straps and tugged. “Did you know I’ve been staring at it all day, thinking about doing this?” He pulled the front down, just by a few inches, and freed your nipples. He dipped his head, and you gasped as he took one in his mouth.

“Oh god, it feels so good,” you whined as he began to suck, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was like he had a direct connection to your clit. He wasn’t even touching you there, but a hot pressure began to build between your legs as he devoured your sensitive nipples.

Then he suddenly released, your hard peak popping out of his mouth with a wet sound, and you whined for him not to stop. “Tu no dominas el español, verdad?” he asked.

“Qué?” you blurted, confused, but answering his question by not understanding it.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes. “You need practice, so I’ve decided I’ll only give you what you want if you say it in Spanish.”

“Pero… Qué pasa si… yo no sé… how to say it in Spanish?” You did want to learn more dirty talk, but this game didn’t seem fair. You wanted him to keep sucking your tits.

“You said I could do anything I wanted...” he reminded you, bringing his hand back to one of your breasts and kneading it tormentingly slowly. “Si no lo sabes, intenta. Practica, practica, practica.”

You wondered if this was some sort of dominance thing, or if he just liked watching you struggle with his native language. It was a bit exciting, though, you had to admit. Your pulse was racing with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, because you genuinely had no idea how to say what you wanted. “Mis… pechos? Tu lengua. Por favor.” you pointed from his mouth to your breasts.

“Por favor, chupa mis pezones,” he corrected. “Repite.” You repeated it, and before you’d finished the last syllable, he replied, “Con gusto,” and began stimulating your nipples to the point of torture with his nimble lawyer’s tongue.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice high and pleading, “It feels so good.” You bucked your hips into his and curled your fingers around the back of his head trying to force him to keep going, but he pulled back.

“En español,” he chided.

“En serio?!” you complained, but he simply watched you with his eyebrows quirked, waiting. “Me siento bien?” you tried. He smiled approvingly and lowered his sultry mouth to your skin again, flicking your hardened peak while pinching it between his lips. This time he pushed his hips back against yours so you could feel the heat of his erection on your pussy, and it sent new waves of electricity coursing through your body, which was already heaving just with the attention to your breasts. “Por favor, más... Oh god, yes,” you whimpered.

“Qué sabor muy rica, tu piel,” he murmured, muffled in your skin. “You taste delicious.” The vibrations from his speech tore a choked whimper from your lips, and you bucked your hips against his cock.

You bit down on your lower lip, fighting your rising climax even as you lifted one leg, wrapping it over his hip, to hasten it. “I’m gonna—oh god, you’re going to make me come just from this!”

“Voy a venir,” he coached you in a firm, teacher-like voice that nearly made you double over with arousal. “O puedes decir, ‘Me vas a poner a venir.’”

“M-me pon… ah!” he lightly nipped at your sensitive peak, turning the rest of what you were trying to say into helpless babble. “Please, please fuck me… oh god.” Before he could correct you, you remembered what he’d taught you in the bar right before begging you to leave with him so he could fuck your brains out. “Dámelo duro, papi.”

His whole body shuddered as he took in a shaking breath, but sober Barba never lost control until he decided to surrender it. As much as he wanted to fuck you, he was having too much fun teasing you. “You could also say, ‘Quiero que me coges,’” he explained academically, and you growled with frustration, writhing under him, your cunt seeking purchase against his cock. “If you’re going to speak a language, you’ve got to practice it,” he said, his voice far too calm and even for the circumstance, even with its wicked undertone.

“Dámelo! Por favor! Dáme tu pinga!” you begged frantically, rapid-firing off every way to ask for his cock that you could think of. You reached between your bodies and grasped his engorged sex through his tightened pants and stroked him hard from balls to tip. Your efforts were rewarded with an involuntary whine, Barba’s hips jerking forward.

“Me rindo,” he whimpered in surrender. His breath was ragged and he looked ready to fall apart. You purred with victory, but as you slowed the furious pace of your stroking, he recovered enough of his senses to smirk through his lust. “Pero primero, quiero saborearte.” His voice was thick, and his eyes dark as a tropical storm on a Caribbean island. He lifted the leg you’d wrapped around him up onto the table, and knelt beneath you. “Con tu permiso?”

You nodded, gasping sharply even before his tongue made contact with your soaked pussy just from the obscene expression on his face as he opened his mouth and extended the point of his tongue as he slowly leaned toward you. Your hands braced behind you on the table for support. Then you cried out loud when that tongue did hit you, slightly cold from the air, but quickly warming to match you as his mouth closed over your whole cunt. “Ah, que rica,” he sighed into your pussy, lapping at your slippery arousal with broad, languid strokes of his tongue, unhurried, as if he were aiming for no particular goal but to enjoy your flavor. “So wet for papi. Qué buena estudiante eres. Good students should be rewarded.”

He finally stood back up to his full height in front of you and removed his pants and underwear, letting them fall around his ankles, and his cock sprang free. You gaped down at it in awe. “Oh god, look at that cock,” you practically drooled. You automatically reached down and started stroking it, babbling on about what a thick, beautiful cock it was. He was too lost in the touch of your fingers wrapped around his shaft to even complain that it wasn’t Spanish.

“Ah, condoms!” he interjected before pushing himself inside you like every muscle in his body was screaming to do. “I’ve got some in the bedroom.”

You chewed your lip, not sure if this would come off the wrong way since he wanted to be responsible, but you slowly said, “We don’t need to use one if you don’t want. I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any STDs.”

His stormy eyes pierced into you, clearly tempted, but he couldn’t help remarking cynically, “If you give me a disease, I swear...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my medical records on me, so I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. I don’t know why I’m blindly trusting you.” That was a lie. Everything about Rafael Barba screamed precision, caution, and consent, and even after such a short time knowing him, you were absolutely certain he would never put you at risk. In fact, there was no way he’d ever have unprotected sex with a stranger.

Except his very next words were, “Fuck it,” and he hooked his arm under your elevated leg, and began rubbing his thick cock through your folds, coating it with your slick arousal. “You are absolutely sure you want this?” he looked at you with soft, understanding eyes, checking for any doubts.

You let out a needy whine, rolling your hips to rub your pussy against the tip of his fat cock. “Te quiero,” you whimpered, intending to say you wanted it, but his cheeks reddened and his heart flipped as you said something better translated as I love you.

You wouldn’t realize your mistake until much later, thinking back on it, or understand why his face was suddenly frozen between tenderness and panic, and then dawning realization, relief, and a small, barely noticeable wince of disappointment.

He entered you slowly, letting you feel every inch of stretch from his cock. Like the rest of his build, it was not the longest you had ever seen, but it was impressively girthy, and each blissful inch he worked you open brought the slightest fraying edge of pain. He knew his size could be a challenge, and was practiced at preparing, and patience. You were already so dripping wet, you didn’t need extra lube, though he had it on standby, and watched you carefully, pausing to let you rest every time he advanced. As he waited, feeling your walls relax to accept him, he ducked his head to your breasts, savoring the helpless squeals you made when he gave attention to what he learned was one of your most sensitive erogenous zones. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple or sucked its hardened peak into his mouth, your cunt twitched around him and your back arched to take more of him. It worked so well, he never stopped teasing your breasts, and your silent cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” grew in intensity until you were screaming with pleasure, fist clenched in his hair as you held him to your chest, and his balls were pressed tight against your ass.

Panting hard and moaning into your breasts, he began to thrust, slowly at first, but you wrapped your legs around his back and used them as leverage to buck your hips into him, pushing back into each of his thrusts, deepening them and coaxing him to increase his pace. As you angled your hips, he began hitting a deep point inside that made your legs turn to jelly. “Dámelo bien duro,” you tried to say, but it mostly came out as unintelligible gasps and whimpers. His mouth never left your tits and you loved the angle it gave you, being able to watch his face, strained with concentration and clouded with lust, and his tongue working diligently to bring you to a climax that took you off guard with how suddenly it crashed over you. You couldn’t say there was no buildup to it, because you had been in throes since he first pulled down your dress, but he had barely begun to thrust when the heat coiling in your lower back suddenly tightened and snapped, shooting sparks behind your eyelids. “Ah—Rafa!” you wailed, squeezing your fingers in his hair.

He gasped, releasing the globe of your breast from his mouth at the wracking of your body in his arms. Your pussy convulsed, clenching tightly around his cock, coating it in your sweet release, almost too tight for him to thrust through. One more jerk of his hips through your rippling, fluttering muscles and he let out a string of swears, and you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your belly. He pulled back and thrust into you once more, balls swinging against your ass, and his hot seed flooded you. He panted, trembling, still trying to hold onto you, though halfway sitting on a dining table without knocking off any of the plates was not the most ideal location for post-coital recovery cuddling. He grabbed a few paper napkins from behind you to catch the drippings as he pulled out.

It was over too fast, a testament to how long it had been for him. Both of you, really. But you weren’t disappointed. He made you come almost entirely with that silver tongue of his, and you were still shaking too much to take your weight off the table and put it on your legs.

The timer on the oven rang shrilly, announcing dinner was done.

“After dinner,” he promised, pulling his pants back on. “Quiero más de tu cuerpo.”

You were satisfied, but not yet sated, and looked forward to round two.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein

#Rafael Barba x Reader #Rafael Barba #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba x female reader #my writing #thatesqcrush kink bingo #thatesqcrush

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robinofinashiro · 4 years

Text

- request from anonymous: “loving your writing style, especially the yandere alphabet. you’re doing great btw. i was wondering if you can do bokuto from haikyuu yandere alphabet with non-con. but you don’t have to add the non-con if you don’t want to. Lol. Thank you if you get the chance to do this!”

- request status: open

- pairing: yandere bokuto x fem! reader

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Bokuto is INTENSE with his affection. he is all about physical, emotional, and verbal affection. you cannot get away from this man and the way he is with you. you are everything to him and he shows that in every single way he can.

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

honestly, Bokuto doesn’t seem like the type to want to get messy and he’ll use it as a last resort but if he sees that someone is trying to get close to you, he will be on the lookout and will not hesitate to start killing someone.

C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

he’ll pamper you. treat you as though you have been in love with him since you first saw him. Bokuto is a very heavy delusional yandere. he thinks that he’s the only person in your world and that no one else matters.

D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

ummm, he wants kids. a lot of them. he wants to make an entire team basically. if he sees that you don’t want kids, adoption is always an option. but regardless, he will get kids whether you want to your not. also will unknowingly track your phone.

E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

oh, poor Bokuto. he thinks that you really care about him. he straight up thinks that you love him like he loves you and will tell you everything about his life. he doesn’t care. again, very delusional so he doesn’t really see the fact that you don’t care for him.

F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Emo mood like no other. he has to get Akaashi wrangled up in his relationship but honestly, he can’t bring himself to physically hurt you. i see a lot of people trying to make Bokuto some aggressive yandere but I personally can’t see it.

G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

no, this is nothing of a game to Bokuto. he needs you. he can’t live without you. he’d get so upset if he saw you trying to escape. there’s no joy for him on his end. i can imagine he’d probably spiral if he watched you leave.

H - Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

probably when he first kidnapped them. the kicking, crying, screaming, and all of that hurt him so bad. Bokuto didn’t know how to calm them down and you were screaming so loudly. thankfully he actually installed sound proof walls.

I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

he wants kidssss and so manyyyy. like dead ass. he wants an entire team and you will give it to him. he wants what some of his team members have and not only that, he wants to see you at his game with his jersey on and you screaming his name.

J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

very easily jealous. lowkey one reason why he doesn’t want you around his team. he knows he has some very attractive teammates ( AHEM HINATA, SAKUSA, AND ATSUMU ) and if he saw any of them even tempting to flirt with you, so sad that they’ll suddenly lose a teammate.

K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

he’ll be all up on you. he doesn’t care. he’s all about the PDA. if he wants to kiss you, he’ll do it. if Bokuto wants to hold your hand, he will. if Bokuto sees you’re looking extra cute, he’ll smother you. if he gets to a certain point, he’ll even skip a practice to be with you.

L - Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

he’d try to court you but he gets too anxious and will take you right after a few weeks. in this yandere universe, he’d probably have Akaashi as a voice of reason to wait but god damn it, he couldn’t. he probably took you out on like one date before taking you.

M - Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

everyone knows how expressive Bokuto is. they also know how he acts so a lot of that transfers over at home but turn the dial up to eleven. he’d def be more clingy to you and tbh, a part of Akaashi feels bad for you bc he knows the real Bokuto.

N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

when Bokuto punishes, he PUNISHES. no holds bar. you have to absolutely push him to the edge tho bc he’d try not too. again, he would rather have Akaashi punish you but if Akaashi can’t or he wants to be the one to do it, he’d break a leg. leave marks on you. the whole shebang.

O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

most of them. you don’t have car rights, phone rights, outside privileges, NOTHING. Bokuto is very paranoid you’d try to leave so he’d do everything in his power to strip you of your rights. and if you are online, he watches everything you do.

P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

very patient! he’d take everything you’d do and try and justify it. he knows he pushes the limit on the slip ups you do, however; once his patient does wear thin, he’ll def not hold back or even ask Akaashi not too. but overall consensus, very patient.

Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Bokuto will k word himself. no doubt. you are his life. you are above volleyball. you are above his friends and family. if you die, he does as well. if you escape, LMFAOOO, you’re not. he keeps your home secured and that isn’t even a thought.

R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

nope! very delusional yandere so he doesn’t see his actions as wrong. he’s a ray of sunshine that sees nothing even mildly weird about kidnapping you. again, the chance of you leaving is a NO. you’re with him until you or him die.

S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

honestly, probably curiosity. he sees other yanderes and their darlings and instantly craves it. as far as we know, Bokuto has no depressing or sad backstory so it’s just his thoughts that bring him into kidnapping and keeping you.

T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

see letter H.

U -Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

again, the whole physical punishment thing is not really his favorite thing to do. he’d rather let someone else do it or have you punish yourself in the sense of self isolation. he wants to keep you alive so he won’t starve you or anything.

V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

honestly, probably his depressive episodes. that’s their best chance but that probably won’t work out. he knows what to tell you and what not too so you can’t exactly exploit something in specific. just the depressive episodes are your best bet.

W - Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

see letter H.

X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

all the fucking time. he worships you like a god. you are his god. he’d do anything and everything for you. he’d kill someone for you. he’d go to the ends of the earth for you and he’d do it right by your side. like his obsessive streak with you is not one for games.

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

he’d watch you 25/8. stalking is a big thing. he’d pick up anything that you threw away or accidentally dropped. probably has a shrine of your small trinkets.

Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

probably psychologically. he won’t hesitate to fuck with your mind. he sees it as the only way he could hurt you without actually having to physically put his hands on you. once the stockholm syndrome settles, ITS GO TIME BABYYYY.

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #anime x you #anime #anime imagines #sports anime #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou imagine #yandere haikyuu #yandere bokutou kotarou

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burgerkang000 · 3 years

Text

Email for better love lives

I HAVE A NAME FOR THIS ONE YAAAAAY

im doing the read more thing, cuz u know scrolling ugh

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa (if anyone else wanna be tagged, let me know!!!)

This is a Yunho fic!

enjoy?

You met San at a compulsory public speaking class, where only you both had to attend for grades; it was filled with nerds who came voluntarily. And your bond begin with bored out glances at each other and loud sighs exchanged. And after that you guys hung out a lot, went to get coffee while doing homework, caught rides with each other, and waved whenever your paths crossed.

You met Yunho when San wanted you to meet his friends that he wouldn’t stop talking about, which made you slightly jealous; you yearned for a bond like that. You pushed that thought away, nothing good comes with jealousy. And while San and his friends would go about their own business, you would stick to the side-lines, not knowing what to say or do, even though they try their best to include you.

Yunho would be the one to keep you company, actively telling you about his day and attentively listen when you were asked about yours. He would also help you study and take you out to grab coffee when San would be too busy.

Anyone would be a fool to not fall for Yunho, with his smile that make his eyes crinkle at the corners, teeth on display, fluffy hair. Who wouldn’t fall for him, at least you could keep it inside, and no one had to know.

“Look at Yunho in this picture, he looks so handsome” San shows you the pictures from your quick break before the exams to the arcade. You take a glance, damn. You know that the moment you open your mouth, you’re screwed.

“Hmm”

“I don’t like it when you’re vague”

“Yes Yunho is cute” That’s all you plan on saying anyways, but you had to panic, because what if San thinks you’re not commenting on it too much and picks up that you’re crushing on Yunho? Ok, so you were overthinking.

“Too cute that it’s impossible he exists, I mean I see him every day but it’s not like I believe he’s real, there is a limit to being cute and all. I mean a recreation of a Greek god- I mean he should be a Greek God himself-”

You were cut short by San’s exploding laughter and as you voice your confusion to him, he still laughs until you violently shake him-

“Yah! Why are you laughing?”

He finally calms down enough to tell you-

“Just say you have a crush on him”

You open your mouth to deny-

“Admit it~” He says scrolling through his phone again.

You huff out, San was your best (read: only) friend, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, so you nod the tiniest bit, and San grins from ear to ear.

“I mean, I didn’t see it coming, but when you started rambling off like that, it was obvious.”

You sigh.

“You tell this to anyone, I will personally murder you”

“Sure sure”

And after that, he thankfully let you change the topic.

Ever since then, whenever you’d meet Yunho, right after that, you’d whip out your phone to text San; something vague like-

“He’s wearing a red sweater”

“He dyed his hair blue!”

“Kill me”

And then you’d go home and text San about how a person; a human, cannot simply be so beautiful, and ramble off about him.

“But sir, I don’t have an email” You tell the professor, who has just asked to submit your assignment by mail.

“Don’t whine to me, and make one, is there a student your age without email? How do you have social media accounts?”

“I don’t have them” you reply

“Just make one, it’s extremely useful, and won’t take much of your time” He said, in a brushing off manner, guess he doesn’t believe you.

You nod and sigh as you leave to the next class. If you can’t whine to your professor, you can whine to Yunho. Who listens to the whole thing like the god damn angel he is, and as you open your phone to create one, he gently coaxes it out of your hand, asks you if it’s okay if he creates one for you instead and when you nod he turns his attention to the phone, while you’re just dumbly staring at your hand, where Yunho’s hand made contact with yours.

“Look, I sent my self a mail using yours, lets chat on mail for a while, you can get used to it” He says, you nod, and talk for a while, and then Yunho had to go. You wave at him while he leaves and you text San.

“What’s your mail?”

And when you finally get it, you send him a mail.

URGENT: JEONG YUNHO TOUCHED MY HAND, I REPEAT JEONG YUNHO TOUCHED MY HAND, MOM COME PICK ME UP PLEASE.

I MEAN HE WAS FABULOUS TODAY TO, IF IT WASN’T OBVIOUS; HIS HAIR WAS SO SOFT I CLIKED A PIC, LOOK:

[Image attached]

DO ME A FAVOUR, WHEN I DIE, SIT ON THE VERY SAME CHAIR HE’S SITTING ON, LOOK AT THE SAME DEIRECTION HE’S LOOKING AT AND BURY ME THERE, WHILE YOUR AT IT PRINT THIS ON MY GRAVESTONE.

WHEN I DIE PLEASE TELL HIM I LOVE HIM IN THE OTHER WAY.

BYEBYE

Later that day you get a reply from San saying that you’re too dramatic and an email from Yunho, which you didn’t think much about the time. He was the one who wanted to talk in mail, so you open it and-

And you realise you accidently send it to him too.

*cue freak out*

“So I must have send it to him too-” San blinks at you for a while and then-

Laughs at your face saying random things like

“This is gold”

“Nonononono”

“Never in my life- never”

At this point, you think he’s just spewing English vines that he’s been watching a bit too much to be considered healthy. And now you’re overcome with sadness, and as soon as he notices, he starts apologising and you bow you head, you think you look like a rag doll, and then cry. And san runs circles on you back, occasionally tucking strands of hair behind you ear and wait till you finish.

After a good while of snot- running type of crying, puffy eyes and ringing ears, you start to ramble, a habit that got you here in the first place.

“I don’t think I’m ready for rejection, I mean I was perfectly fine watching him from the side-lines. Heck I would watch him get married and I’d probably say nothing, like I’m not dying inside, proceed to get married, I’m crying tears of happiness-”

“What makes you so sure that he’s going to reject you?”

“I don’t know ok? But this isn’t a movie, he sees me as a friend and I had to go and catch feelings for him.”

San sighs.

“So, what’re you going to do now?”

It was hard, but you finally managed to blackmail San to help you avoid Yunho situations.

“And how long do you plan to do this?”

“Until my plane ticket and Visa to Alaska are approved and I change my name to Veronica Fall”

He looks at you, and the look speaks for itself, you’re being dramatic. You raise your arms in mock surrender and flop on top of the bed.

“Tomorrow everyone is hanging out, Yunho will be there, you coming?”

You pointedly grin at his cheeky expression, and he mimics the way you had surrendered just a few moments ago.

You stare at the response you had given to all the missed calls from Yunho.

I’m busy

Sorry, I was showering

I’m going to be busy for a while.

And you watch as the three dots move, and then stop and then move again, you feel as if your heartbeat moves along with those dots, stopping when it disappears, and then finally a response.

We need to talk, I gave you your time, and it’s not fair.

You feel like this is a new side of Yunho you haven’t seen, an assertive one. And you realise, just because you’re a coward, doesn’t mean that you can leave Yunho in the dark, even though you have fears of Yunho leaving you, getting awkward; deep down, you know, that Yunho, he’d never treat your feelings as something useless. And that makes you feel more in love.

And who knows unrequited love may not be so bad, maybe, just maybe; for Yunho it might not be so bad.

Fine

After sending the last text, you get up to clean the place, take out boxes littered about, and books and papers all lying about that you haven’t cared to put away. You do the dishes, and tie your hair into a pony, you’re distracting yourself from the real problem of facing him, for now you let yourself do it; later, you can scream at yourself.

And a right when you reach for the broomstick that you had tucked in deep behind the storage room; you hear a knock at your door.

You don’t think much about it, until you open the door. Low and behold; Yunho was standing at the doorway, a determined look on his face and he walks past you into the house.

You can’t help but think; geez, come on in. But you’re just salty.

And he opens his phone and shows it at your face, too close to read, practically in between your eyes, its touching your nose too. And you’re the dramatic one.

“Explain; explain this email, that was, I figure, supposed to be sent to San, explain why you’ve been avoiding me and my calls, and wherever I go right after I replied to this, I’m not going or letting you go until you do.”

And his voice cracks at the end bit, but you don’t notice, you’re in a bubble of thinking; thinking how to phrase this, just overthinking; maybe.

And moments which feel like hours pass, and you decide to do this the ripping off the band aid way. But it turned out more like the ramble it off way

“I like you? No, no that came out wrong… I love you? Yes, I’m pretty sure I love you, and don’t worry I know you’re not into me that way-”

And you don’t know what really happened; there was a hand on your face, right under your nose, and he was right in front of you.

“Sometimes, everything you say is nonsense.” He breathes, you open your mouth to respond, and he applies more pressure with his palm, to keep you quiet. You can’t help but think of the way your lips mouthed at his palm, not the time; not the time at all.

And then he continues.

“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that, the moment I got that email, it took me a few minutes to understand, but when I did, I already pictured our five adopted cats, not gonna lie”

Your eyes widen in shock, did he just indirectly say he like you back, in the form of cats? This is why you fell for him in the first place.

“Did I creep you out? I must have creeped you out, forget I said that.”

And you laugh behind his palm, and he slowly removes it, moves it to your shoulder, drags it down the length of your arm, and interlocks it with your hand, a sweet smile on his face, the contagious one, so it’s only law that you smile back, teeth and all, since you can’t hold it back.

“We should go on a date.”

“That; we must.”

You were on one of your many dates, too wind up in each other to not notice the others who also wanted to hang out with you, you totally kept the news from San; you and Yunho are in this together, so he needs to also be comfortable with telling San, after a lot of thinking, you both settle on letting them find out, which may take years to get in their daft heads, but for now, you both have put fate in them.

San caught on way too quickly, the moment you enter the café and sit down, he says-

“So you’re not moving to Alaska? Or is your husband; Yunho moving with you?”

You blush and look down-

“Look, I can explain-”

And he breaks into a wide grin,

“I’m happy for ya”

You and Yunho were scrolling through many of the messages you have send to San; the ones fawning over Yunho, as much as he likes to get you flustered, he himself also gets flustered, so it’s a win-win situation.

“They haven’t caught on yet” you suddenly say.

It’s true, other than San none of them have caught on yet that you both have been dating, and that’s kind of weird, since it’s been almost a whole year.

But it’s not like you’re gonna sit them down and tell them. You and Yunho have a better plan.

Well you have a better plan.

“-and they walk in on us!”

“…..”

“Or not?”

“No”

You end up inviting them over for dinner, and as they take their first bites, you happily chirp in that you’re dating and Yunho adds that you’re moving in with, leaving everyone to choke on their food, except San, who had a cocky expression, which soon turned into a choking fit, who’s cocky now?

And Wooyoung looks up, and goes “Wait, you’re serious” and continues choking, this time on nothing.

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adarlingsnightmare · 4 years

Text

Chuuya Nakahara Yandere Alphabet

Anonymous said:

Sounds good! How about the alphabet for chuuya? :3c

accidentally posted this to my main blog after writing a huge apology for my lack of posting :/ i keep doing that unfortunately. anyways, ive had a full week exams which is why i havent been posting. im extremely tired and stressed but i will try to get more requests done this week, though i have another week of exams. i do apologise, but itll be over soon. i hope you enjoy anon, this short bastard is one of my favs. <3

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Chuuya would gladly smother you in endless kisses and cuddles, but if you tell him to back off, he'll stick to just having an arm around you (because god forbid he isn't touching you in one way or another). You'll often hear him whispering how much he absolutely adores you when he thinks you're asleep, and when you're visibly awake he'll be showering you in compliments.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Oh, Chuuya will undoubtedly do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that results in bloody murder. He's in the mafia after all, what's a little blood on his hands, especially in the name of love?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Chuuya would only mock you if you consistently failed to escape or were getting punished by him. Otherwise, he is generally loving and as romantic as possible. He will always make sure you're eating and sleeping properly, snapping at you if you refuse to eat as he gets awfully worried about you sometimes.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

No, not really. The only instances where something's against his darlings will is when he's punishing them. Other than that, it's mainly abduction and the lack of freedom to talk to people.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Chuuya confides in his darling, and will show a side of himself that no one else ever sees. He'll ask for advice on work matters and will constantly seek love and reassurance from his darling. While outwardly he may still appear tough and cocky, he's really soft for you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would be pretty irritated and though he'd never admit it, quite hurt. Why can't you just love him, goddamnit?! He'll try not to hurt you too much, but if you're not backing down he will use force to get you to stop.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Chuuya doesn't enjoy it in the slightest. His love for you isn't some 'game' and seeing you try to escape both infuriates and saddens him. All he truly wants is to be a happy, normal couple so your refusal to love him is not something he enjoys.

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Chuuya isn't always fully aware of how strong he actually is, especially when he uses Corruption and becomes out of control. This can lead to a terrifying situation where you're worried for your life as a monster in your boyfriend's body goes on a rampage and destroys everything around him. It rarely happens, as Chuuya really doesn't want to hurt you, but when it does it's a living nightmare.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Honestly, Chuuya doesn't really know what kind of future he wants for him and his darling, but ideally you two would move to some beautiful island — somewhere in the Caribbean, maybe? — get married, possibly start a family and live out the rest of your days in bliss.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Luckily, Chuuya isn't insanely possessive and doesn't lash out just because you looked at someone else, but he is paranoid. He has to keep you away from other people because, what if they attempt to hurt you? The only instance where he would genuinely become jealous is if Dazai was involved. This is when you'll see his full yandere side come out and it will be extreme: locking you up in highly secure room, restraining you, putting tracking devices in everything you own, anything to ensure your safety. If you were to show an interest in Dazai, whether platonic or even worse, romantic, his paranoia and jealousy would spike up tenfold — essentially guaranteeing you'll never see the light of day again.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Chuuya is generally really loving and calm towards his darling, still messing with them and lovingly calling them an idiot, but always so soft when speaking. However, if you were to be a brat, his rougher, more 'mafia' side would make an appearance— any soft words of reassurance thrown out the window.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The 'traditional' way: flirting with you, taking you out on fancy dates and gifting you jewellery and flowers. He may seem smooth but he usually has to ask people (Kouyou) or the internet for advice on how to win someone's affections. He's also very observant to what you're interested in, so if you mention preferring movies to fancy dinners, that's where your next date will be.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes, but in a good way. Instead of being his 'tough executive' persona, when he's around you, he'll reveal a much sweeter and softer side of himself. He's also surprisingly affectionate, taking every opportunity to be as close to you as possible.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Chuuya doesn't generally plan out punishment, he tends to go into a fit of rage and attack you with whatever is nearest. Usually it results in you being choked, slammed repeatedly against the floor or him almost breaking your ribs with his foot. Once he's calmed down is when he will decide on a proper punishment, such as keeping you restrained to the bed, taking away certain privileges or maybe if you've really done something bad... a more permanent solution will be used.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As long as his darling was relatively compliant, Chuuya's only real restriction would be the ability to go outside alone without the safety of his watchful eye. Of course, if you betrayed his trust, any hint of freedom you had previously would be stripped away.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Chuuya tries to be patient, he really does, but he's just so hotheaded that he often ends up snapping at his darling whenever they act up in the slightest.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

To put it simply: no. No one else can make Chuuya feel this way, and without his wonderful darling, he feels distanced from the world. It is likely he would continue working for the Port Mafia (unless they were involved in your escape/death), a mere shell of his former self only existing to serve the mafia rather than actually living.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Chuuya would feel a small amount of guilt if he had to kidnap you, but his belief that it's necessary for your protection would overrule the guilt. He would absolutely never let you go, you're like the anchor that keeps him human; he cannot lose you.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Like Dazai, Chuuya feels almost inhuman, like he is a foreigner in someone else's body, yet when he brushed hands with you, he felt something real. This is what drives him to get to know you: the desperation to be human. The more he spends time with you, the more this feeling increases — leading him to be unable to just allow you to leave him. Ironically, he becomes less human the more time he devotes to you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Chuuya really doesn't like seeing you upset, and it hurts his heart having to punish you when you're so upset, but some things are just a necessary evil. If you've done something he considers to be really bad, he will be apathetic to your tears, believing you deserve whatever you're suffering.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Unlike a lot of yanderes, Chuuya does respect your boundaries to a degree, and won't force you to do anything you really protest against (aside from letting you go, of course).

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Chuuya has to leave for work nearly everyday, so if you're smart and able to break locks, you have a fairly good chance of escaping. However, even if you do escape, Chuuya will find you again, and he won't take the betrayal lightly.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Chuuya has a pretty short temper, especially when it comes to the safety of his darling, so if you persistently tried to escape or "put yourself in danger" (interacting with Dazai, refusing food), he may snap. As stated previously, he doesn't enjoy your pain, but sometimes it's necessary to get you to listen.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Despite his sometimes arrogant nature, Chuuya sees his darling as on an entirely separate level to himself. He practically worships you, though he doesn't always like to show it (he's got to keep up his tough guy persona after all) and would gladly do anything you asked. His loyalty to you is even able to override his loyalty to the Port Mafia.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Chuuya would make an effort to woo you, buying you flowers and taking you out on fancy dinners, hoping that you'll end up wanting to be in a relationship with him. He'll vehemently deny being so desperate to be with you, but it's pretty obvious he's hopelessly in love. If you were to continuously reject his advances, he may eventually end up kidnapping you, but only if he thought you were in danger (or that another person was making a move on you).

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

If he did end up breaking you, it wouldn't be intentional. All Chuuya wants is your unconditional love and affection, but he can get desperate if you're not showing it and will make you say how much you love him, even if you have to be put through hell to achieve it.

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ibijau · 4 years

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30 day otp - day eighteen: Rain

18. R - Rain. Are the otp+ caught up in the bad weather, cozy inside, or are they somewhere like on a space ship or in the middle of the desert yearning for a good storm?

warning for mild alcohol abuse and jealousy

set after lxc and nhs became a couple, but before nhs discovers his brother’s death wasn’t an accident

It’s stupid to be walking in the rain like that, and it’s needlessly dramatic, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t care because he is, maybe, quite possibly, a little bit drunk. There was too much wine available at this stupid Conference. There’s always too much wine, especially when they’re held in Carp Tower, but it’s the first time Nie Mingjue isn’t there to stop him from overindulging when he’s bored.

And heavens help him, but he has been bored all day. It’s the first time he has to actually pay close attention to what’s been discussed, and his mind spent the entire revolting against the inane conversations around him. Disputes about territories and taxes and petty personal disputes treated as if they’re great scandals. Nie Huaisang doesn’t know how he survived this until the banquet where finally wine was served. He’s tempted to sneak in some wine tomorrow, so he can get drunk in the morning and not have to hear all this drivel. The only thing that can stop him from doing that is if Lan Xichen asks him not to, but… Lan Xichen has better things to do than to pay attention to Nie Huaisang.

The gnawing feeling in Nie Huaisang’s chest is nothing new, but it has been growing stronger since Lan Xichen kissed him for the first time.

He has always envied the close relationship between Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, the affection and respect these three shared (tainted by distrust and resentment, yes, but still Nie Huaisang believes his brother would never have been so furious if he hadn’t still liked Jin Guangyao). He still envies it, but there’s only two of them now, and sometimes Nie Huaisang sees Lan Xichen smile at Jin Guangyao or touch him with easy casualness, and he wonders…

Shivering because of the rain (or perhaps not just the rain, but he won’t admit to anything else) Nie Huaisang gives in and finds shelter under a tree. It’s cold, and it’s lonely, and he regrets not having some more wine with him to make him forget the way Lan Xichen’s hand was on Jin Guangyao’s shoulder when he ran away, the soft smile his lover (his lover) directed at his sworn brother as they chatted.

Lan Xichen who has barely spared a single glance for him since the conference started.

(Nie Huaisang knows, logically, that Lan Xichen cannot show him too much preference, not in such a public space, not when they are supposed to be friends and nothing else.)

(He’s drunk though, and this feels like rejection, especially when Lan Xichen has no problem showing a lot of preference for Jin Guangyao)

Around Nie Huaisang, the night gets darker. The rain gets worse. It occurs to him that he can’t see shit, doesn’t know where he is in those too big gardens, and probably won’t be able to find his way back.

It wouldn’t be his first time spending the night outside, cold, wet and drunk. It happened twice when he was studying in Cloud Recesses, and Wei Wuxian’s antics got him and Jiang Cheng stuck outside past curfew. Back then, it had been a fun experience. Nie Huaisang doesn’t expect this to be, but it’s his own fault for being stupid, so he’ll deal with it.

He’s just starting to look for a less wet patch of grass to sit down and fall asleep on when he stops something approaching through the rain. A pale silhouette, carrying what appears to be a large umbrella. Nie Huaisang hesitates, but eventually shouts to get that person’s attention. Embarrassment is better than sleeping in the mud.

A statement he starts to reconsider once the person gets closer and he recognises the white robes of Gusu Lan. Of course that’d be just his luck to be found by his lover when he is in such a pitiful state.

Lan Xichen lowers the umbrella as soon as he’s under the shelter of the tree, and pulls Nie Huaisang into a tight, warm hug.

“I was so worried! A-Sang, why did you disappear like that?”

Nie Huaisang, clinging to his lover’s robe like a child to his mother, knows that he should be happy that Lan Xichen came looking for him. If he were a little less drunk, if the last few months had been a little less harrowing, he would be happy.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he grumbles instead. “You and A-Yao were having such fun.”

He can feel the slight jolt in Lan Xichen’s frame at his bitter tone. He can also feel a hand carding through his wet hair, as if to comfort him.

“Of course I noticed you were gone,” Lan Xichen gently tells him. “You’ve looked like you were in such a bad mood all day… why didn’t you join us to chat?”

“Why would I bother? When the two of you are together, I might as well not be there.”

The hand in his hair stills. Nie Huaisang feels Lan Xichen move and guesses the other man must be trying to catch his eyes, but he resolutely looks down.

“I’m sorry if we’ve given you that impression,” Lan Xichen says, slow and careful, as if Nie Huaisang were some sect leader he’s trying to pacify. Which he is, really, and he hates that. “A-Sang, we really do enjoy talking with you. I value your opinion, I hope you know that.”

Nie Huaisang huffs. “What’s there to value? Listen, it’s fine. Talk to Jin Guangyao, I don’t care. I’d rather talk to him than to me, too, if I had the choice.”

For a moment, the only sound is the rain around them, still heavy and loud, isolating them from the world. Nie Huaisang feels warm fingers leave his hair to push against his chin and force him to look up. While he tries to resist, Lan Xichen leaves him no choice. Still he keeps his eyes down, refusing to see whatever anger or pity is sure to be on his lover’s face.

“A-Sang, look at me.”

Nie Huaisang shakes his head.

“A-Sang. Please. Look at me.”

He shakes his head again, but there’s something in Lan Xichen’s voice that he can’t resist and he does look up after all.

It’s pity, not anger, that he sees on the other man’s face.

He’s not sure that’s the option he prefers.

“A-Sang, I really do enjoy your conversation, your company,” Lan Xichen insists. “I love you.”

“Only because he won’t let you love him,” Nie Huaisang retorts, quickly looking down again.

The fingers on his chin tighten for a second before letting go, and suddenly Lan Xichen isn’t touching him at all. Nie Huaisang shivers, but he can’t blame the rain alone for how cold he suddenly feels. No matter what happens after this, he’s never drinking again. Or at least, not around other people. If Lan Xichen ends whatever exists between them out of anger at being discovered, there is no force in the world that can stop Nie Huaisang from locking up in his office once he’s back in Qinghe and drinking every single drop of alcohol that can be found in the Unclean Realm.

“That is not true,” Lan Xichen whispers at last, the words almost drowned out by the rain around them. He sounds hurt, but Nie Huaisang still refuses to look up. “I have never once in my life had such thoughts for A-Yao. He is like a brother to me, he has always been. You might as well accuse me of having untoward thoughts for Wangji.”

“You don’t touch Wangji like you touch A-Yao,” Nie Huaisang hisses furiously.

“Of course not. Wangji hates being touched by anyone, while A-Yao welcomes it,” Lan Xichen points out, the slightest hint of irritation piercing through.

“I’d welcome it too, yet you’ve never done it. Even before… before this started, you’ve never…”

Lan Xichen quickly wraps his arms around Nie Huaisang’s body and pulls him close against his chest, holding him tight.

“I think I’ve touched you plenty in recent times,” Lan Xichen claims in a strangled voice. “Not in public but… with you, I’m never sure how much I could get away with, who will guess what we have if I am too familiar. I don’t have to worry about that with A-Yao because I’m not hiding anything when I’m talking with him. With you… I don’t want people to guess. I don’t want people to know and tell us we need to stop.”

If Nie Huaisang’s face is wet, it’s no longer just because of the rain (but he can still blame the wine for making him emotional, and he will if questioned).

Damn Lan Xichen for being so good, for never getting angry, for being kind even when Nie Huaisang is doing everything to make him realise that he has settled for someone who will never be good enough for him.

“I love you,” Lan Xichen says again. “Please don’t doubt that.”

“I love you too,” Nie Huaisang replies, half convinced that he’ll always doubt the other man really cares as much as he does, no matter how many years they get together.

A little less distressed now, Nie Huaisang rises on his toes to claim a quick kiss, just a peck at his lover’s lips to remind himself that no matter who Lan Xichen really wants, for now he’s the one who gets to do that, him and no one else.

When he pulls back, Lan Xichen wrinkles his nose.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, not quickly scolding but ready to get there if necessary.

“A little too much,” Nie Huaisang admits. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Not because he doesn’t think it’s true. Given the choice between him and Jin Guangyao, it’s obvious who anyone would prefer… but he’s lucky that Jin Guangyao is married, that he’s never shown any interest in men, that his life history would make him unlikely to cheat anyway. Nie Huaisang can only ever come second best, but a lifetime in his brother’s shadow has taught him to live with that.

Still, it was a cruel thing to say to Lan Xichen, who must suffer from this one-sided business. And the last thing Nie Huaisang wants, ever, is to be cruel to the man he loves.

“All is forgiven,” Lan Xichen replies, too kind as always. “Let’s go back now, and get you something dry to put on. You are so unreasonable, running into the rain like that without even an umbrella.”

Nie Huaisang nods, and presses himself against his lover’s side so they can share Lan Xichen’s umbrella. It doesn’t fully protect them, not when the rain is still so intense, but Nie Huaisang isn’t going to miss a chance to be touching his lover.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #I don't always picture nhs as jealous but it's 'fun' to explore that option #I just love all versions of nhs and all possible motives for his actions #jau writes #30 days challenge

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jordaine · 3 years

Text

My Eye-Opened Dreams: a collection of poetry by Jordaine Givens

The First Act: I Don’t Even Feel Pain Anymore

Don’t watch me watching you.

I could be mistaken

in my allocation.

So allow me to perform

from afar, without your eyes.

I’ve waited for the absence

of love, and have given

more than I’ve saved.

But don’t watch me;

don’t mind me.

I’m sure someone

has thought of me,

like I’ve danced for you.

And I’m confident in the

existence of the imaginary.

“Ah, but this is what it feels like.”

The curtains have opened in front of me

and the audience awaits my first line.

And there it becomes truth.

The crowd weeps at the unlovable.

Under the dogwood I gave into love

Under the dogwood,

intoxicated and stumbling,

I smiled as I thought of the one I still loved;

and under that dogwood,

I discovered the words of the one

I believed I was beginning to.

I was not dealt a shitty hand.

I did not commit some unthinkable crime.

No, I was never meant to love someone

who need not grow to love me.

Rather, I was left to wander aimlessly

in search of fragments of pity left behind.

With my head raised

to the shifting foliage of the dogwood trees,

I let out a cry.

I let out a cry so deafening,

only I could hear the sorrow

that sang some familiar chorus.

“Somewhere,” I sang,

“... I’m sure, I’m sure.

Somewhere,

someone could love,

this pitiful heart.

I’m sure, not so sure.”

My Eye-Opened Dreams

If I could dream

with my eyes open,

I’d dream of us.

A simple dream,

sure.

When I dream,

with my eyes open,

I dream of us.

Hand in hand,

eye to eye.

When I dreamt of us

with my eyes wide open,

I loved you

and you loved me.

This reality was true.

But I do dream

with my eyes open.

And you’re there,

yes you’re there.

We are hand in hand.

In those dreams

with my eyes open,

our eyes meet eye to eye.

With something behind them,

and something behind mine.

Yes, in my eye-opened dreams

I love you dearly and fully and truly.

And you know the extent of your love;

and the extent of love for me, you know.

My eye-opened dreams are terrifyingly true.

Hugging the memory we left in that dogwood tree

The dirt beneath my fingernails

and the bark stuck to my jeans

remind me of our tree we left in that field.

“How could there be only one tree?”

I never sought out an answer.

Why would I carve the names

of two unloved people

in the bark of a tree

shared by those who loved

each other?

But there was still a sorrow

left behind when I thought

of our tree remaining alone.

Did it sigh at my words

I spoke when you weren’t there?

And did our tree remember you,

when you weren’t there with me?

Or was it familiar,

from the times you wished

for a true love?

Somehow we desired our tree

to create something that could never be.

Although different and surely conflicting,

our hands clasped tightly

and our eyes closed, waiting patiently;

we quietly cried out for what could never be.

Valerie

And when you cried,

your tears fell in floods.

And when I watched you

and sought to send reassurance

through my tired eyes,

you ran across the threshold.

The heavy wooden door

was accustomed to your hand.

I remember you told me

about your son

and how much he missed you.

And I remember you told me

about your husband,

and I can’t seem to remember

if he loved you as much

as you longed to be with him again.

But you were here with me.

You cried so much.

In front of us, and in your room

behind your wooden door,

you cried so much.

And when I was of age,

and you looked at me

with the motherly eyes

I hadn’t seen in what seemed

like years, you smiled.

“You are enough,” you wrote.

Valerie, I wish I could believe it.

I’m still not quite enough,

these few years later.

When I’m loved like I love,

I’ll be enough.

But I want to believe,

that my tears behind

wooden doors are heard

like your tears I heard

behind that wooden door.

Oh, How Beautiful. The Unattainable.

Something inside there, I guess

can’t seem to decipher this world’s

beauty from its threatening acts.

Sunsets are beautiful;

Sunsets remind me my happiness is fleeting.

And I know mountains are beautiful;

mountains stand as tall monuments

of something I could never be.

Where do I place unanswered prayers

if I’m too afraid to approach the foot.

But I’m sure that I could be

as free as birds;

Birds are stricken down from the skies

and never seen again.

I wish to see you again.

No, love is beautiful.

Unrequited and true,

love is beautiful.

And you told me it was true.

We’re not afraid of love.

But from afar,

is how you’ll love.

There is no fear

for the unattainable.

But oh, how beautiful.

The Broken Toy Sailor Boy

I thought about how they could name you

and why the name they gave you stuck.

Of all the names I learned and lost,

your moniker given by others like us

was one of few that I’m not sure

I could ever forget.

I remember your eyes.

I remember your blood shot eyes

because I wasn’t sure if you could sleep.

I remember the way you hunched over

and shivered when you felt our eyes on you.

And I remember how scared you were.

How could I cry alone

when your tear filled eyes

remained in my mind

broken toy sailor boy?

How could I repress my brokenness

when you were the most broken of all?

Broken toy sailor boy,

some days I still think of you.

Most days I think of you.

Every day I long for your

voice to return to you.

This is what I wish to say to you.

And if I am to become broken too,

I long for you to think of me.

I hope you would wish for my voice

to return to me, too.

And if your voice is to never return,

and the string in your back is forever broken,

I’m sorry my eyes watched you so.

Xanax song

Could you still play

that song you played for us?

Or did the Xanax take

that memory away?

You’re the coolest, mister.

He was never angry

until they took his Xanax away.

And he sang his song

and played his strings beautifully,

until they took his Xanax away.

But now he was yelling

and he was scaring

those we should be afraid of.

The medication reliant fumed

and refused to participate.

Our little line of ten

was the longest line.

He couldn’t play

his beautiful song

without his Xanax.

So why couldn’t they

just give him what he wanted?

If only my cure was his,

and I could give him

what he needed to play.

But now he was punching the wall

and screaming loudly.

These were not the lyrics

and his song was unfamiliar.

Please play that song you love

with the Xanax you love.

My Eye-Opened Dreams

If I could dream

with my eyes open,

I’d dream of us.

A simple dream,

sure.

When I dream,

with my eyes open,

I dream of us.

Hand in hand,

eye to eye.

When I dreamt of us

with my eyes wide open,

I loved you

and you loved me.

This reality was true.

But I do dream

with my eyes open.

And you’re there,

yes you’re there.

We are hand in hand.

In those dreams

with my eyes open,

our eyes meet eye to eye.

With something behind them,

and something behind mine.

Yes, in my eye-opened dreams

I love you dearly and fully and truly.

And you know the extent of your love;

and the extent of love for me, you know.

My eye-opened dreams are terrifyingly true.

The Cruelest Decider: My One and Only Voice

I wish to hold you;

I wish to hold you forever.

If I could tame you,

maybe I’d be loved

by those I seek

to love me.

But your ability

to sway those otherwise,

has become my greatest

weapon in avoiding

living alone.

But you are you.

And when I’m okay,

you only use it on me.

Must I listen to you

when I’m alone

and thinking of others?

You don’t care for me.

You disappear when I need you most.

Did you forget I needed you?

Or have you left me

to my own devices?

It must be comical

to watch me.

But you know I’ll see you again.

Maybe one day I won’t return,

and you’ll have only yourself.

No, you are me.

I’m sorry.

Please remain by my side.

My Reservoir of Tears

At some point, whether it had been with me from the beginning or arrived recently,

I’ve fallen in love with my ability to cry.

Although they do not fall naturally

and require a bit of effort on my behalf,

the tears come when I warrant them.

Yes, these faux-tears or real tears

are remnants of a me I’ve lost with age.

In our youth, tears fall suddenly and with truth.

We age, encounter more pain and cry again.

This is the normal progression of tears.

But my tears must’ve lost their way.

Now in the solitude of only my tears and me,

I instruct and train them for their moment.

Two fictional lovers upon a screen

embrace each other fondly.

I think of me and another.

My tears hide behind me.

And I awake from a dream

in which I held the one I love,

and close my eyes tightly.

They press against my eyelids

and retreat back to their homes.

“But I love her,” I beg.

But now my commands

cannot be ignored.

In their homes,

my eyelids full of tears,

I’ve harbored enough sadness.

They come when I ask.

“But we are not crying for this,” they plead.

No, but I can smile now.

Through their pleads

for a fair escape,

I smile knowing I can cry.

I can cry when I please.

My reservoir of tears

is reinforced

by my unanswered dreams of love.

I Wish To Know

My hand has been outstretched

clawing at a shadow of a dream.

Someone I know loves someone

with a memory of that dream.

Someone I love knows someone

who knows someone who knows

the content of my dream.

I wish to love where that dream

pulsates and calls out to me.

I cannot say I feel an attachment

to something I’ve never known,

but I wish to know of its existence.

Oh how jealousy can invade

my mind thinking of what I wish for.

But some nights I dream

of a dream that I hold no recollection.

Some nights I long for my history

and yearn for a wisdom

I can give to someone.

For now, I’ll learn other’s truth

and other’s dreams.

And I’m left here

with the ones who

took my dream away.

Would my dream

tell me to love them?

Or would they demand

I tear them down?

Where am I from?

And I cry.

I wish to sing

the songs of my people.

I wish to know

how to be them.

But, I’m alone.

a true and genuine smile

I want to smile more often,

a true and genuine smile.

Somewhere in this life,

the life I was given,

there’s hidden smiles.

I wish to smile more often,

a true and genuine smile.

If I close my eyes long enough

I’ve found it harder to do

such a thing.

I dream to smile more often,

a true and genuine smile.

I think I’ve felt it before

but it was gone as my face

warmed from the morning sun.

I cannot smile as often,

because it is not a true or genuine smile.

I must be the biggest liar in this world.

But this life must have hidden smiles

for I’m too afraid to sleep forever.

“Warmth”, I’m sure it’s something I long(ed) for

I’m sure it’s something

I longed for.

Autumn skies

and times I believed

in something like that.

I couldn’t remember

if you were cold

but I felt something warm.

I looked at you

and I remember you smiled.

There was never a time

warmth ever last.

Like the inevitably

of the first frost —

but some defy things I believe.

I thought I found it that day.

Standing next to you,

I felt that warmth

I used to believe in.

Standing next to me,

“We should go now,”

you said.

Under the dogwood I gave into love

Under the dogwood,

intoxicated and stumbling,

I smiled as I thought of the one I still loved;

and under that dogwood,

I discovered the words of the one

I believed I was beginning to.

I was not dealt a shitty hand.

I did not commit some unthinkable crime.

No, I was never meant to love someone

who need not grow to love me.

Rather, I was left to wander aimlessly

in search of fragments of pity left behind.

With my head raised

to the shifting foliage of the dogwood trees,

I let out a cry.

I let out a cry so deafening,

only I could hear the sorrow

that sang some familiar chorus.

“Somewhere,” I sang,

“... I’m sure, I’m sure.

Somewhere,

someone could love,

this pitiful heart.

I’m sure, not so sure.”

My Broken Park Swing Love

The only swing left

has one chain longer

than the other.

It doesn’t swing well

but it does.

The streetlights came on

but I didn’t say what I wanted.

I forgot my gloves and asked

to borrow hers.

She lived down the street.

But I didn’t want

to go home alone.

Party Trick (Used Up)

She placed it between her lips. It sat comfortably in a familiar place, a place and time it’s used to. Called upon again it lit itself and filled her lungs.

It’s eyes followed her footsteps and it’s ears listened to the ignition. It shivered when she pulled away, and felt almost nothing left of itself.

“Don’t go.” She inhaled again; her lungs burnt, but continued. Then further and further away, “Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”

He ran his fingers through his hair; he knelt down to grab the beer at his feet. He inhaled. The glass filled with smoke; he caught another sip before she was gone.

I’ve Always Hated The Sunrise

I’ve always hated the sunrise. I hated the warmth it provided, and I hated the new day. I hated the bright lights that pierced through my room. And I hated knowing I was still there.

People love the sunrise, and love the feeling of a beginning. People loathe the sunset, and weep at the thought of the end. But, admittedly, I’ve longed for the end. And I cry at the start of something new.

I’ve always loved the sunset. As it brought in darkness, I smiled knowing I would be alone. “Ah, the day has almost left.” And in that moment, I smile knowing I’ve been welcomed again.

Cicadas Only Cry When You’re Alone

Cicadas only cry when you’re alone. Hiding behind the night while you wallow, cicadas only cry when you’re alone.

We chased streetlights and ran from the switch. We murdered pests, and put spirits in mason jars. We caught those who cannot feel pain, and ate them.

I sat in the night, with their song behind me. Before the sound of cicadas, we were happy.

Sometimes I Dream of a Life I No Longer Deserve

It won’t be much longer until I arrive. In that distant land I’ve seen somewhere in my dreamscape, I’ll soon arrive with outstretched arms.

It shouldn’t be much longer until I arrive. At the beaches of the countryside I dreamt of, I’ll be smoking a rolled cigarette and drinking the taste of the sea.

How much longer until I arrive? In the line of sight of someone who loves me, we’ll embrace each other with words we’ve saved for someone like each other.

But entirety is beyond this lifetime and I’ve squandered this much and loved this much and hurt this much. You must be waiting for me in some other world or some other land.

Damaged Goods Part Two

Sitting beneath the dogwood I thought of myself. “Ah, me again.” I retreat within myself And console only me.

Dogwood petals fall softly on my head and my chin. Virginia’s most beautiful flower smells of shit. Dogwood flowers are lovely for someone like me.

As I fall asleep, I dream of a store. It’s shelves are filled with new smiles, flashy laughs, attractive features, and lovable personas.

I dig deep into my pockets, but only feel lint. Looking up at the cashier, I smile as endearingly as I can. He beckons be away.

In a fit of rage, I grab the new smiles, and I grab the features and I grab the personas and fill my pockets.

I wake up to the dogwood leaning over me. It’s roots outstretch and hold me. As I dig into my pockets, I feel only it’s petals.

Osmosis

At some shitty party; across the room waiting for an optical confrontation. Through my cracked screen; in between dropped calls.

Beyond state lines; rewriting unsent and unwritten letters. Shoulder to forearm; catching nuanced confessions meant for someone else.

Hand in hand; fingers intertwined. Chest to chest; waiting for a predetermined synchronization.

“I’ve arrived in my dreams again!” The whispers of your name as a boarding pass, in a world I created. I’m safely out of love.

What Time Are We In?

But there was a time, when I believed it was something to be shared. I was sure of it, I’d never uncover the like of it.

There was a time, some historic moment, when the thought of you seeing me, at a fraction of what I saw of you, was enough to attach validity.

There was a time, lost down a path less taken by, where we saw each other. The sand was golden and the water was see-through. But, we didn’t live there.

There was this time, that I’m left in, where you’re my last saved photographic memory. The beach sand was layered with beer cans and plastic things.

I’m living in a time, where being just out of reach, is just enough. That’s love, isn’t it? I don’t know what time I’m in, anymore.

Don’t: Someone Before The End

As he held out his hand and waited for hers, she fell to her knees. With her head below concrete and his hand left flying, they listened to a song of death.

In the space between the air his hand flew and the ground her head remained, the land in which they suffered functioned without them. Two faulty cogs slipped out of position, and the machine blew black smoke that turned clean.

“This would be the worst time.” “Don’t say anything.” Her shoulders slid down and soon her chest. His feet lifted from the ground and he began to fly. If this were to be the end, could he discern truth from vomit?

If this were to be the end, could she escape from those words before she told a lie? Blackness must’ve been more comforting. A pair or two; maybe someone for the end.

I Can Make Myself Cry

I can make myself cry, would you like to see? It’s not much really, when you hold onto such things.

I never cried before, or maybe I did. Watching the bathroom door shut and letting no one in.

I can leave my eyelids open for hours, and let the cold air pull my tears outside. Or something more profound.

Squeezing my eyes shut, or leaving them open. Blinking quickly, or slowly. I’ll show you this trick.

Remember the smell of latex gloves and paper gowns. Reminisce on the hardwood floors painted in piss and pills.

Smile at the thought of daytime television and apple juice cartons. Ponder on the carcass in the rainy yard.

Crying is easy, if you can remember what you never cried for before. A pipe burst and I smile carefully.

My Crime: My Punishment Awaits, But I Still Desire Something More

In a life of punishment due to crimes of another, I can’t help but desire more. I long for more than I’m deserving, and I wish to be happy no matter the consequences I am destined to face.

This feeling of guilt and this feeling of pity, are two opposing forces battling within me. I do not remember my crimes but their existence seem to be the only explanation of this suffering.

This life I’ve led until now hasn’t been unbearable. If this were my punishment, I must’ve gotten off easily. Or maybe the guilt of this life’s ease and comfort, is the true pain I was gifted.

My hunger for love and my desire to be loved are only selfish needs waiting to be satisfied. This pain of being nearly unlovable is wearing me away. I want to love and be loved, by someone I love.

“Ah, but I remember:” I am not a good person. The one waiting for me has yet to exist.

Vomit

If only I could vomit as frequently as I drink, until thoughts of you returned to torment me.

If only my words escaped me only in those moments I can’t remember, and not when I’m running from what I wish I could say.

But oh those words and that vomit, come in floods and ravage the faux-love I’ve grown within.

And now I’m waiting until that vomit returns and ruins a good time. Maybe I’ll drink until the vomit comes.

Black Lives Are Flowers

All my flowers are dying. The flowers that raised me, the flowers that loved me. The flowers that told me, I was worth something.

All my flowers are dying. They are being killed by insects. They are being killed by the soil they grew in.

All my flowers are dying. As much as I wish for them to live, because they are like me, the insects and the soil continue to kill them.

All my flowers are dying. In front of my eyes, and in front of those who see themselves dying too.

“Please don’t kill us.” Our empty words can’t save us. Burn their nests and plant our seeds in the remains.

70 in Virginia Beach, Somewhere Far Away

It feels like I’m beneath a tree, this life; I’m beneath a dogwood. Or maybe I’m the tree, and it’s sitting beneath me. Where are my flowers? I only have this stench.

“Ah, I must be the tree.” My roots are dug deep and are given no light. I mustn’t leave this place, for this is my home. I’m home, for those.

But, what of me? This tree wishes to be a bird among clouds. I’d trade these roots for the absence of a brain, and I’d give my leaves for feathers of a wing.

I have beautiful petals that fly away without me. They can’t get very far before being trampled. You’re still beneath me, but you’ll be leaving soon.

“Autumn has come hasn’t it?” This tree is left bare, and my skeleton is showing. It’s seventy degrees and you’ve left for somewhere warmer.

#poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #black writers #love

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lya1989 · 5 years

Text

Lover

aka Love her

Before you read my analysis I would like to say that I’m gay. so is the song. if you think so too, then proceed along.

There will be three components to this analysis,

1. the lyrics

2. the video/visual

3. the song/melody/references to things

and how they all made the song gay so I don’t have to invest my gay in it like Hayley Kiyoko does with songs she likes.

Let’s start with the lyrics:

Verse 1 We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January This is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

The first line has a similar vibe to New Year’s Day. Not only are they celebrating special occasions together but also staying with each other on all the days in between said holidays. (i like to remind you about the christmas tree in ME mv)

The second lines hint at having a place (taylor’s tribeca loft) together which definitely makes it easier for Taylor and her lover (i love this rhyming phrase. a lot) to spend time together in private. No paparazzi means no possible media backlash. They don’t have to fear that strangers are watching, talking and screaming cause it happened before. (see hear: Wonderland)

Not only privacy, they could also “make the rules”. They don’t have to conform to societal pressures, such as whether to come out or to stay in the closet. In their house, (which is basically a multi-story closet) they could be free. Loving each other is never taboo or restricted. In fact, they could control the narrative, who truly knows them, by inviting them to their place. Like their closest friends and family.

Also:

Following the 2nd line analysis, I’m skipping the chorus (which i will touch on later) and going straight gay into verse 2.

Verse 2 We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Again emphasis on making the rules and the call. Only they could choose who knows and who don’t. (Also Taylor and Karlie have more mutual friends with each other than Taylor and her “boyfriends”)

And also a little jealousy from Taylor. This is not unexpected since Karlie is stunting with J**h. There’s also an alleged wedding, so Taylor’s feelings are completely valid.

“Three summers” is an important piece of information because it gives us a timeline. Joe and Taylor started “dating” around uh... time for a google search.

PopSugar wrote

But it doesn't make sense for Taylor to get into a relationship with Joe literally two weeks after she broke up with Tom unless he’s a rebound or a contract beard.

A verified contributor to TripAdvisor explained

Let’s say Joe is a rebound but they started dating during fall. That means they only had two summers together at the very most.

So no. Joe is not a rebound which means...

Do you know who has more than three summers with Taylor? Karlie.

In fact, they met at 2013 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

Ok, then what happened on 28 September 2016?

Since they had the Big Sur trip in 2014, I can safely say they were best friends.

As time passed, feelings would definitely be developed into something more.

“You’re my best friend” - You Are In Love, released on 27 October 2014

“I don’t want you like a best friend.” - Dress, released on 10 November 2017

“You're my, my, my, my lover” - Lover, released on 16 August 2019 (today!)

I will explain it as we go further. Now on to the long-awaited chorus.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my lover

Taylor, like we all do, have questions. She uses this style of writing in her songs, (eg “are we out of the woods yet?” “isn’t it, delicate?” “who could stay?”), and it’s always in the chorus and usually repetitive.

The lyrics in the chorus are quite straightforward. And they are written that way because they provide such a simple frame to showcase such complex emotions.

“Can I go where you go?” shows so much longing and yearning to be with Karlie (and im so fucking soft for this). When you first hear this, the first thought that comes to your head is why can’t Taylor go where her lover go. Then the realisation hits you that if her lover was Joe going wherever he goes isn’t much of a problem but if Taylor’s lover is Karlie, a woman, that’s where all the complications lie. Homophobia, media backlash and people with nothing better to do would just create more hate towards both of them.

“Can we always be this close forever and forever?” This line has a implies that they are physically together and all is well. But then she worries about when is the next time she could be with Karlie again. Will it be a long time?

Metaphorically speaking, if when something big happens, will Karlie be distant from her.

The third line shows Taylor’s wildest dreams that one day they could go out together without any of the complications and when they are home together, Karlie will stay forever.

(Left: Taylor and fireworks. Right: Karlie and Taylor and fireworks)

Welcome to Bridge City

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue All’s well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Remember you asked what happened on 28 September 2016?

2016 is most probably the worst year for Taylor in her career. Let say that she wrote reputation in late 2016 to early 2017. Since she not only writes about recent experiences but also nostalgia (and reputation is about finding TRUE love despite being hated by said people who has nothing better to do), it would be fitting to write about Karlie. More specifically, the realisation when she loves Karlie romantically.

In this city, the lyrics mimic a wedding speech said by the groom/bride. It is a common gesture to stand as the bride/groom says their wedding vows to each other.

The words “borrowed” and “blue” references to an old traditional wedding rhyme on what a bride should wear at her wedding:

“something old

something new

something borrowed

something blue

and a sixpence in her shoe.”

“All’s well that ends well” means that if the outcome of a situation is a happy one, it cancels out all of the unpleasantness faced on the journey. To Taylor, ending up with Karlie is the best possible outcome, and all the hardships will be worth it.

So it other words, marriage is something Taylor and her lover wants. Usually, before someone gets married, they are engaged. So I conclude that 28 September 2016, three summers ago, is the official anniversary of their engagement. (gasp in mock shock) (they might be engaged around August in Wyoming see Karlie insta)

Not to be worried, she will be overdramatic because drama loves her. And she will be TRUE to Karlie because what they have is TRUE love.

(if you do not know what “all eyes on us” means click here)

In the lyric video, word “overdramatic” has a space in between. Over dramatic as if she’s finally going to stop being in the center of drama? (not that she can help it when drama loves her)

I love the phrase “dirtiest jokes” because it shows how comfortable they are with each other. (this is funny cause Taylor’s parents would leave the room just to not hear dress)

And now they are bound together by love, Taylor will always treat Karlie as her other half, hence saving a seat (beside her, at the head/end of the table facing each other, etc), as they are of equal standing. Two halves of a whole. Yin and Yang.

Even with all the proof mentioned above, hets be like “but Taylor sang the magnetic force of a man.”

First of all, it’s a publicity stunt. She does it all the time (eg naming her song style)

Second,

(check out @badcode )

3. Analysis on everything else

Lover is the complete opposite of The Archer. It has 1989 sounds with a county feel that make you feel soft with a tinge of sentimentality and wonder.

The lyrics are reputation styled which talks about TRUE love and contentment.

The bridge, in particular, is a glow up from speak now.

Also the usage of feminine terms of endearment such as babydoll, darling, dear, honey in her songs. I honestly cannot imagine taylor calling any of her “boyfriends” them.

(im just like god is a woman and her name is taylor swift)

Some fun facts that might blow your mind (click link):

-Track 3

-The length of Lover is 3:41. and 1:43 means i love you

-Why You Are In Love is not entirely about her friend’s perspective. Also

TLDR; Lover is a song about Taylor and Karlie’s wedding.

There’s a reason why the song (and the album) is called Lover and not Husband.

#taylor swift #gaylor swift #kaylor #queer analysis #lover #if i have wrong info or you want to add on or remove pls dm me

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sky-scribbles · 5 years

Text

I’d call this past Steelstep except it’s more... future Steelstep. Because right now they won’t acknowledge that they’re yearning. m!Sidestep x Chen, ~1600 words.

Two things, right now, are making Wei Chen’s life difficult: his mods, and Sidestep.

Chen’s hands are worth more than their weight in gold. They are technology of a kind most people will never see in their lifetimes. They are gentle enough to cradle a puppy without harming it, yet strong enough to splinter bone. What they are not is dexterous enough to fix the damage to his right leg.

Sidestep’s hands, however, are.

And when Sidestep walked into the Rangers’ hangar and found Chen fumbling with too-delicate tools and too-clumsy hands, unable to raise his mental shields in time to hide his exhaustion and frustration – somehow, it led to this.

Chen should have asked him to leave. Maintaining his mods is so personal, so private. And he’s almost vulnerable right now, with his leg broken and his mind tired, and Sidestep is the last person he’s comfortable being vulnerable around. But when Sidestep scooped up a tool that had slipped through Chen’s fingers and asked, very quietly, if he could help, Chen said yes.

Maybe he was too startled to refuse. After all, he’d never heard Sidestep speak before.

He asked Ortega about it once, about why an ally would see fit to hide his voice and his thoughts from the rest of the team. She just smiled and shrugged. ‘Not everything’s a conspiracy. Jalal’s shy. It took him two months to start speaking to me, and maybe he’d do the same around you if you ever stopped glaring at him.’

So Chen tries not to glare now. Just studies the man before him carefully, evenly, while Sidestep looks back from behind battered glasses and a small frown. ‘I assume you have some experience in fixing mods.’

Sidestep dips his head, and Chen files the information away, flagging it as another reason for caution. People as young as Sidestep do not simply know how handle technology like this, not unless they’ve been trained.

And yet Chen still finds himself nodding and sitting back. Leaving his body in the hands of a man he cannot trust.

He tends to notice hands, since he lost his own. It’s not jealousy, exactly. Just that the dexterity he now lacks and that others have is so… so prominent now. Something he can’t help seeing. And he sees it now more than ever, as Sidestep crouches before him and begins reconnecting circuits with practiced ease. His fingers are thin, the brown skin marked with burns that Chen has seen before on technicians’ hands. They are also freckled.

Silently, Chen scolds himself for that thought. If he’s watching Jalal’s hands, let it be to keep an eye out for sabotage, not to notice freckles.

‘You’ve done this before. More than once.’ Jalal is working too swiftly and too skilfully to be an amateur. ‘Where did you learn?’

He half-expects there to be no response. But Jalal’s silent only for a moment, teasing a tangle of wires apart before answering. ‘Some of it, I, uh, learned myself. After I came to Los Diablos, I started offering tech repairs, and I… I had to learn fast. A lot of mods out there need a cheap technician to keep themselves running.’

‘Yes. Most of them are criminals.’

Jalal glances up. His eyes are unreadable, and not only because the light is catching on his glasses. ‘Most of them are desperate.’

‘Is this how you got the money for your suit? Your weapons? You do repairs for mercenaries who can’t afford official help?’

‘Would you think it was a bad thing if I said yes?’

There’s no challenge in the words, but Chen finds himself irked all the same. ‘I’d think it wasn’t the whole truth. I’m sure telepaths have their own ways of acquiring funds.’

There’s a second, then another, where the only sound is the faintest mechanical hum from the malfunctioning limb. Then Sidestep snaps a piece of torn cabling and flings it aside. ‘And you wonder why I don’t speak to you.’

There’s something unexpected in his voice. Hurt. And Chen reminds himself that Jalal is fixing his mods, fixing them with hands that have been not only deft but gentle. And that he broke his months-long silence for the sake of offering help. That no matter how many alarm bells his presence rings, he is a only a potential threat. Not a confirmed one.

Anyone who lives in a city like Los Diablos should know how to live alongside potential threats. The very earth you walk is one.

So Chen breathes in, slow and careful. Watches the movement of Jalal’s hands, and lets himself notice the freckles. ‘You’re right, I do. Why have you never spoken to me before?’

‘It’s not just you. I… find talking hard sometimes.’

‘You talk to Ortega.’

‘Not all the time. Some days I just…’ He bites his lip. ‘Can’t. But I think she gets it, she never pushes me to speak. And I know that when I do talk, she wants to hear it, and that helps. With you…’

He’s very determinedly looking at Chen’s leg, and not his face. ‘I sort of get the feeling that you don’t want me to talk to you.’

‘Why would you think that?’

Jalal puts down the tools he was holding, and settles himself cross-legged on the ground. Still doesn’t look at Chen. ‘You know I can feel it, right? The way your focus shifts to me whenever I walk into a room. Watching for me to do something that hurts your team, looking for hidden motives in everything I do. It’s like I’m a tripwire, and you’re waiting for me to snap.’ His fingers bunch into the hem of his coat. ‘I didn’t come here to make things hard for your team. I don’t want to be a reason for the Rangers having problems. But I don’t want to leave either, so… I guess this seemed like a decent compromise.’

Unsure of how to respond, Chen watches as Jalal shrugs and picks up his handful of devices again. It’s true; he has been watching Jalal. Focusing on him. For some reason, he feels as if he’s been caught doing something intrusive – a ridiculous thought to have when he’s standing next to a man who reads minds, but an uncomfortable thought all the same.

So it’s a relief when Jalal speaks again. ‘It’s easier for me, too.’

‘Easier how?’

‘You’re…’ Jalal glances up at last, and is he smiling? ‘You do realise you’re sort of intimidating?’

He is smiling. And just this once, maybe Chen can smile back at him. ‘So I’m told. It’s not always intentional.’

Jalal’s gaze flicks back down, but the smile is still there, a ghost at the edges of his lips. ‘I kept trying to think of something to say. Something that wouldn’t make an awful first impression. But I couldn’t, because I’m stupid, and then it had been a month, and the longer I left it the harder it got, so I didn’t say anything, and… you know. Not talking was easier.’

He closes the open panel at the front of Chen’s leg, and inches back. ‘There. That should work now.’

Chen extends the leg, then brings it back down. It obeys. He stands, remembering with… not a pang, but with a little fond wistfulness, of a time when he had flesh-and-blood legs that would have been stiff after so long staying still. He tries a few steps, and his feet come down firm and true.

To make sure, he walks a lap of the room, then turns around to look back at Jalal. ‘So this was what you decided on. Your good first impression.’

There it is again, that hurt flash in Jalal’s eyes. Which might not be so noticeable if his eyes weren’t so very green.

‘No. I asked if you needed help because you were having trouble. And because I like fixing things. Mods. Tech in general. Toys I find in the trash that need sewing up and patching.’ For the first time, there’s an edge of heat in his voice. ‘I’m not your enemy, Steel. I’m not here to manipulate you or pull your team apart. If I broke this team, I’d feel it and hear it and it would hurt. I don’t like pulling things apart. I’m in this suit because I want to mend things. That’s all.’

He gets to his feet and strides towards the door, tugging his sleeves over his hands so that most of the freckles are hidden. Chen wonders, with a flash of absurd panic, if Jalal overheard him noticing them.

He also wonders why it feels wrong to leave things like this.

‘Jalal.’

His hand on the doorknob, Jalal stops.

‘Thank you.’

A long pause. Jalal doesn’t smile again, and doesn’t turn around, but he nods. ‘If you need help with this again, you can ask me.’

The door closes behind him. And Wei Chen is left with two problems, though not the same ones he had fifteen minutes ago.

One: it is very hard to remember that Jalal Ahadi is a threat after watching him fix his mods with clever, careful hands. After learning that he has a nice voice and a nervous charm.

Two: Chen is suddenly aware of just how much he’s been keeping an eye on Jalal. And he isn’t convinced it’s been only about watching for danger.

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #steelstep #m!sidestep #wei chen #oc: jalal ahadi #otp: restart this heart of mine #sky's writing #1-800-are-you-yearning #all signs point to yes

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