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yuusaris · 2 years ago

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FeyFic Sequel Dump Doc - A Deadly Sort Of Sympathy [NSFW]

[Mental manipulation, worn-down-by-time brainwashing, unhealthy/toxic relationships, sexytimes]

Not back, just getting this out of my eyeballs. Very messy, very all-over-the-place. Was gunna be multi-chaptered and have plot, malik was gunna be there as a well-meaning ex that Bakura gets roped into his stupid shit, but I never got passed the intro stuff and frankly, I have other things to focus on. May return to this, but it's no longer my problem.

Lots of jumping around. Will try to clear up those jumps.

FORGOT TO TAG AS DUMP DOC. THIS IS A DUMP. NOT A FULL THING, I AM SO SORRY, I DID NOT SPECIFY. THIS IS DISCONTINUED WHILE IN PRODUCTION.

The most recent thing he remembers, if he really tries, is leaving home with Him.

Those sharp nails rested against his wrist, guiding him through a door he didn’t recognize to somewhere he didn’t know. Only knew that He would be there. And that he would follow.

He remembers hearing knocking, which was ridiculous because it was no one's home. He heard hinges creak and a slam which made no sense as the doorway was open already, he was halfway through it.

And just when he stepped through and left for good - he thinks he remembers hearing someone say his name.

-----

He enters the room with yawns and stretches. There is no need to wait for breakfast because they who serve Him have already brought it out. He eats simply - mostly bread and fruits, sometimes cheese. It’s the other plate, his plate, that’s graced with a full breakfast.

“Good morning, ‘Kura.”

He says this every morning and hasn't once forgotten to. He pets him gently every time, and before ‘Kura can complain about the treatment, He kisses him softly on the temple. And everything filters out but a twisted bliss at the attention, and the knowledge that this is all very, very wrong.

-----

He can’t forget the first bath he’d had here. The experience bled into weeks of scratching and howling and bleeding.

“I don’t understand - your skin has layers too, doesn’t it?” He’d murmured while examining Bakura’s red, swollen skin. He pulled - ripped - at what looked like a splinter but came out like a barb, as if it dug itself into his muscle, under the skin itself and latched itself to the underside. Bakura howled, tore himself away, swearing and yelling over a yelp and a flurry of ‘sorry, sorry, I’m sorry!’. Clutching his arm, feeling the blood between his fingers and the pain, the itch of all the others underneath. When he rubs or scratches it hurts.

[Big Gap, never wrote connective tissue]

“I found out how to fix this!” He’d said triumphantly. “I did more reading about human sanitary practices and went out and got this!” With that, he’s handed a small box, and the fiendish Fey before him smiles. “It’s called ‘soap’.”

-----

[timeskip and gap]

“You were perfectly content being fed and cuddled and played with,” He says. “You didn’t - you still haven’t even asked my name.”

Bakura stares from the bed.

Then He tells him.

“It’s Ryou.”

------

His name is not ‘Kura. Ryou just calls him that - sometimes he’ll use the ‘Ba’ first, mostly when he - Ba-kura, making Bakura - is in trouble.

[Very large gap]

“I hadn’t eaten because of you,” Bakura growls hoarsely. When He looks away, shoulders hunching in shame, he finds a nugget of satisfaction.

“I said I was sorry,” He murmurs.

“Sorry?” Bakura scoffs. “That’s it? You’re sorry?”

“And it won’t happen again.”

“Oh, ya pinky-promise?”

His head tilts. “Pinky?”

[Another gap - told you I barely connected this]

Bakura wakes up to a platter of food. He must be delusional - it looks and smells like it’s actually cooked.

“You like your meat rare, right?” asks a familiar voice - He sits beside him and smiles. “I, ah, didn’t bother to do it myself this time… it was from that place we went to.”

He just prettied it up with the platter and silverware. Whatever implication that has is tossed to the wayside in favor of eating.

It’s cooked, seasoned, and warm. Bakura could cry.

“But I also got- um,” Ryou’s fingers press together, sheepishly. “I got a book for cooking. So I can get better at it.”

Bakura slows down. He still chews, of course, but he’s trying to focus on Ryou now.

“You know, when I left you that day to come home and get your room ready, I’d - I’d felt so confident about this whole thing. I read all the books, and I got the enrichment and equipment and pet-safe furniture… but the second I couldn’t get back I was practically shedding with worry. I - hadn’t even considered what would happen if you would ever be away from me for too long.” He stops, taking a lingering look at Diabound. “And then,” a slow, fond smile crosses his face. “And then I remembered how much you knew about Diabound’s needs and I thought - ‘did ‘Kura know what to do when he was in this position’?”

“...” Bakura turns back to his food. “Snakes can go without food for up to two months - but they need water much more frequently.”

“And you were working on a time limit to get out of there,” Ryou’s voice is fond - too fond. “That’s why you did what you did.”

Bakura’s quiet.

“You’d do anything to make sure she was safe and happy and… and it took me until you were in pain to even recognize you couldn’t even clean yourself.” His hands fist in his lap. “...I’m… I’m so sorry for how I’ve been,” Ryou says softly. “I’ve been trying to make a home for you, but… knowing about Humans doesn’t mean I know enough about the differences between us.”

[Large Gap]

“But I’m a damn adult with a damn lease and a damn job to feed my damn snake,” Bakura snaps. “I did all of that on my own, and I’ll do it all a-damn-gain on my own once I’m out of your needy fffucking grip!”

He looks at him, wide eyed, mouth dropped into a small oval. Those eyes, infinite and bottomless, search him. Well, they can search all they like for whatever they like. There’s nothing pathetic about him.

“All on your own?” Ryou says, His voice slow, tinged with the soft timbre of pity as if Bakura ever needed that. “Was no one else there?”

Bakura snarls at the hand coming to his cheek, “I”m an adult-,” but when it rests, his words stay locked behind his teeth, his breath held prisoner in his lungs.

“Adults hunt in packs,” Ryou says. “They work and play and rear children together. What monsters let their cub suffer like that?”

Bakura doesn’t falter, won’t fall for this creatures’ act. It needs to be an act, if only for Himself. There’s only so much ignorance you can exhibit before it’s simply malice. “I don’t need your pity-”

He stops. His brow unfurrows at the rightmost wet streak on Ryou’s face, jaw loosening as he watches this wretched Fey tear up.

“Did you hear yourself?” He asks. “Why do you talk about living like it’s a prize?”

“It was,” he says, through firm teeth. Nevermind his shaky memories of where he’d lived, who he’d known - he knew he had found his own path, got his own money, dug himself upwards and forwards. He didn’t succumb to the various options to fail like those around him. He’s allowed to be proud of that. “I earned it.”

The hand slides back, light nails dancing slow against his skin, resting against the flat of his neck. His thumb brushes softly beneath his ear.

“You were always entitled to a good life. You still are.” Bakura’s doomed, the other hand comes too, cradles the opposite side and drags him forward till their foreheads touch. “And I want to give you a life you can live.”

“I can’t-” He’s breathless, searching for something, anything. A thought to cling to, a reason to disagree. “I can’t…” He drowns in the color of the earth, the smell of its dust after rain wafts from His skin.

“Tell me everything you need,” Ryou says softly, almost too softly. Almost like He loves him.

Bakura drops the knife. Ryou doesn’t look, as though it was never important to begin with.

“I’m hungry,” The words fall out. “I need meat. And eggs and starch and-”

“Make a list,” Ryou interrupts him. “You’ll have everything you ask for.”

“I need to-” His tongue runs dry. “I can’t clean myself-”

“Well, that’s an easy fix,” Ryou chuckles, “everything in this home is mine - everything is touched by myself, at all times. And since everything you need must remind you of me--”

No, he doesn’t understand, Bakura grips him by the shoulders, drags Him in, he needs to understand. “I can’t bathe.”

“...Ah.” Ryou realizes. “You can’t….”

And that…

“Is that… related to something else? Poor thing.” Ryou pulls him closer. Bakura follows His lead without much choice - Ryou tilts his head for him without much resistance. “You can always ask.”

It’s a soft kiss, one that tastes like pomegranates and the smell of harvest. His hands move back across his jaw and cheek; a thumb grazes the bottom of his bottom lip. Bakura feels all of it, his focus divided between ten fingers, each individual fingertip drawing a unique path along his neck, down his chest, and he’s compelled - there no other word for it - to bring Him closer, kiss Him deeper, slip his own tongue across His lip and hear him gasp and sigh like a nymph.

“I had fun last time,” Ryou speaks softly, but not quiet. Hypnotic, it beckons him to trail his mouth down Ryou’s neck. “Did you?” Bakura nods. “You asked me then to be my only pet - do you remember?”

Bakura mumbles an excuse against His warm collarbone, “that was playful banter.”

“There was some truth to it,” Ryou’s hands slip into his hair. Soft strokes and little massages with his fingertips lull him closer, coax his hands to find His skin. “You said ‘if you treat them all like’ -” He’s cut off by His own little moan, muffled by tightly-pursed lips - He’s enjoying this, Bakura can feel that fact against his thigh. “I haven’t filled my end of that bargain.”

The hand in his hair tightens.

Bakura’s head is pulled back again, examined under His eye. “Do you want me to?” Bakura tries to nod - can’t, with the hand in his hair. Ryou ignores any silent pleas, His eyes boring into Bakura’s. “Say it.”

“Yes.” It falls from him, pulled by sheer presence. He feels weak. His hair is pulled again and his spine shakes.

“Did you like that?”

“Mm-hm.” No answer, no change - will He truly only accept words? “Yes?”

“Good pet.” A hum. A kiss to his chin. “You have a nasty habit of hiding what you mean - it makes things difficult sometimes.”

[For Sale. Large Gap. never connected.]

I want you to tell me what you need,” Ryou says. “Clearly. Without me needing to guess or push you.” When Bakura shakes his head, he’s taken firmly by Ryou’s hand and forced to stop - he’s surprised at the strength in Ryou’s grip. “Don’t disagree with me on this. You need to learn to ask me for what you need, I can only give you what you ask for. Stop making me force your hand.” Then, quieter, into his ear, “not everything you deserve needs to be won.”

There’s an ache in his chest - the spot where his heart would be, if he had one - alongside the ache in his dick, a swollen need from torment that can only be pleasure. Bakura growls at it, at the implications it brings.

“You’re just as strong when you ask for me,” Ryou smiles against his ear. “I think you’re stronger when you can be honest.”

Despite himself, Bakura’s breath turns ragged.

“And you’re very attractive when you want this badly,” His voice is thick, playful, “very sexy.”

And he tries, he really tries, not to lose himself in the tongue running along his ear, the long rubbing up and down his chest to sternum to belly and up and down and up again. But he can hear the cusp on which his wantonness stands. He’s sure Ryou can too.

“And if you told me, right now, that you want me to have control--”

And he does want it, wants it more and more He talks and offers, mouth dropping open when His palm presses down on his cock, once, then moves to the side to rub circles into his thigh.

“--I think it’d be cruel to call that weak. I think it’s brave.” He says with a kiss.

[Last Gap, I swear.]

The one thing He wouldn’t do is degrade. Bakura couldn’t explain the difference for various reasons.

“It just sounds like a nasty form of teasing.” And Bakura nods, frantically - yes, it’s teasing, yes it’s nasty, yes he wants- “I don’t want to talk to you like that,” Ryou said. “I want you to enjoy being good for me.”

Bakura grits his teeth, against the derision at his wants and the cock sliding over, not in, his ass. Over and over, truly teased, no relief.

“I like that you couldn’t wait,” Ryou says again. His cock twitches and he grunts as His hand picks up again. “You’ve been so lonely, haven’t you?” He nods, rocking into His hand. All this from months untouched - he might go mad. “Tell me what you want,” Ryou speaks slowly. “Tell me what you want me to do for you.”

Confessions and fantasies spill from his mouth like drool, and he’s granted them in turn - cock gripped too tightly to cum, ass up and rutting against His hips for relief. More than he ever has from insult or shame, he cums from His praise for Bakura’s debauched and slutty -- no, from his eager, willing pleasure, words of worship for opening his chest, laying himself bare, showing everything and giving it all away.

“Good boy, ‘Kura,” Ryou purrs against his temple. With a kiss, ‘Kura’s consumed again by that ache, and instead of bracing himself against that salacious venom, he lets it spread across his nerves and limbs all the way to his head. “Good pet.”

-----

Ryou hums while he reads. His fingers card through ‘Kura’s hair. Each gentle tug pulls it loose from behind his ear, or across the part, spilling the strands across His lap.

About the third time it falls out of place, ‘Kura grumbles, irritated at the feelings of ‘unright’ left in it’s place. Ryou chuckles softly, watching ‘Kura shake his hair back into place.

“Sorry,” Ryou smiles. “It’s just so soft now.”

‘Kura groans.

-----

His name is ‘Kura. Sometimes there’s a ‘Ba’ first, but only when he gets in trouble.

He doesn’t get in trouble.

#my writing #ygo #yugioh #tendershipping #ryou bakura #bakura ryou #yami bakura #feyfic #heed warnings please #dump doc #doc dump

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laplacemail · 2 years ago

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this is my formal apology if you ever have to interact with adonia in any capacity: i am very sorry you just have to divine whatever the hell he is saying at any given time. i assure you he was always like that. he was like that even before getting hit by the feyfication beam. even before he got hit by the ‘whatever the hell is going on with you’ stick. he was always like that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he is going to continue to be like that!!!!!!!!!!!!! my man who instead of saying things weaves complicated stories and disconnected analogies that just makes things more confusing instead of simpler!!!

#my favorite thing is that whenever people talk about adonia here they're just #(in character) 'no idea what that dude is talking about like 90% of the time'#and that is pretty much it!!!! i am sorry!!!#ooc #TBD #(looking at him) man the timeline i rp you. you are like 8457438534 years old. speak normally

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yuusaris · 3 years ago

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Attention, Please

Posting with more respect because now I'm well.

Now on AO3

TW: Starvation, mental manipulation, obsession, magical fuckery, dubcon

“Excuse me.”

Bakura looked over. A pretty thing stood beside him, with pretty brown eyes that had locked onto Bakura like he’d look at a mark. “Can I have your attention?”

An escort? Some religious nut? Likely nothing fun on it’s own, but possibly fun to play with. And with the foul mood Malik had put him in, he was in dire need of fun.

“Yeah, whatever,” He shrugged. “What’ve you got?”

What he had, the second Bakura answered, was a big, beautiful smile - one that made his whole world shift.

-------

Bakura’s thumb hovers over the buttons, Malik’s chain of old messages hanging over his text-box.

Malik [Wednesday, 8:42PM]: Where _are_ you?

Nothing moves but time. His eyes wander from the text to the clock - 4 PM. Didn’t Bakura first meet Him at 4 PM? The train hadn’t been late, but he’d barely heard any whistle or announcement. It’s been hard to hear anything over His voice-

Bakura squeezes his eyes shut, tries to purge the thought of brown eyes and pretty smiles. But they linger, stuck to the backs of his eyelids. When he opens his eyes, he forces his eyes on the texts again.

Or… he tries to. The words are a jumble when he stares or thinks too hard. It’s too much effort to try.

Marik [Thursday, 9:15 AM]: Answer me or you’ll be answering whoever I send to find your ass.

He wants to respond, to say something, anything, to get Malik… up to date? To help him? There’s something wrong, has been since He came and went, leaving nothing but a box of sweets and an emptied water bottle. Bakura’s lost track of how many times he’s refilled it, the same way one loses track of breathing or blinking.

He’s thirsty again. He always is when he thinks about the water bottle. And it’s empty. He needs to fill it again. He gets up, bottletop between his fingers, and drops his needless phone on the bed.

What’s one more day of silence?

-------

“That one’s got her purse on the floor,” Bakura noted from their booth. “Y’see- well, don’t look look, glance, careful-like, over your shoulder - there you go, see it now? It’s a terrible spot to put what has your money. Anyone could fake a trip and swipe what falls out. If they’re good, they’ll even get away with it.”

“Are you that good?” His date asked, raising a wry brow.

“If I wasn’t, would I tell you?” Bakura raised his own with a grin.

And his pretty thing laughed, clear and joyful, like bells.

-------

He stomachs through the smell and sight of wasted food. Half-cooked, undercooked, un-cooked, rotting (he’d just wandered away, had to check the window, the peephole, He should be back), half-eaten, never eaten (never tasted right, never smelled right), left to boil or simmer and stayed untouched - an inevitable burn had given him the focus to at least put the fire out.

He’s hungry. He could try another bite into a ramen block. Though, if yesterday's crumbles of raw noodles is an indicator, probably not.

They didn’t bring any real food when Bakura brought Him home - their leftovers from their diner lunch had doubled as dinner that same Monday night. And He’d finished the leftover box of profiteroles the next day, before he understood what was happening to him.

That was Tuesday. It’s almost Tuesday again.

Worse than his indifference towards the decaying mess was his apathy about eating any of it. He thinks about his hunger and wants another pork cutlet sandwich. He’d even settle for His salad. Odd waste, he’d always thought, getting a salad when eating out. But His had looked alright enough to take His offered bite. Bakura would kill for another.

Instead, he fills the water bottle He’d left behind and drinks until he feels a filled stomach.

-------

The pretty thing had taken a detour from Bakura’s bed to Diabounds vivarium. He couldn’t mind too much, Diabound needed her water changed anyway. And it was cute to watch his date squeamishly drop the mouse in.

“My girl’s the only thing keeping me on the straight and narrow,” Bakura said as she finished her mouse. “I can't take care of her from a cell block.”

“Did you hear that, Diabound? You’re so important, he unstickied his fingers.”

Bakura snorted, his cheeks pressed in an amused smile.

“You take good care of her,” he said as they watched her slow crawl. “I bet she loves you.”

His tiny, pebble-of-coal heart softened and squeezed, despite his knowing better. “Well - snakes can’t really do that.” At his dates' look, he regurgitated his studying. “They’re instinctive. They can recognize someone as being safe and comfortable, they could even, technically, associate your scent as positive-.” He caught himself, mid-ramble, and cleared his tightening throat. “Simply put, their brains aren’t developed in ways that include emotions.”

“Why does her love need to be an emotion?” he asks. “Even if she can only feel comfort and safety and positivity… doesn’t that make it even more wonderful that she loves you as much as she’s capable?”

Bakura took his gaze from his companion, glancing through the glass. And his girl, his favorite, watched him back with content eyes.

-------

It was a romantic thought, but severely misguided - the kind of misguidance that kills snakes with its kindness. Indulging the thought for evcen a second is what makes Bakura want to kick himself.

He drops another mouse in for Diabound. If anything about him has put her off, it’s not enough to keep her from eating. As long as she’s unbothered, she’ll eat and as long as she eats, she’s fine. As long as she’s fine, he can be fine a little longer.

He wants to reach in and wrap her around him. He’s starved for more than food. But He never touched her. Only watched and tended her food and water. The latter must have been intentional - why else would He insist on doing either Himself.

He sits back on his bed. It’s instinct to be there. It’s where, aside from Diabounds vivarium, they spent their time. The sheets and pillowcases are the only welcome comfort he has left, and only because they smell like Him, like sweetness and dust after rain. The futon couch - most of his apartment, really - smells how absence feels.

When he flops down, his phone juts him in the back. He hisses and wrenches the outdated thing from under him. The time is 10:11 PM. There’s new messages from Malik. None from…

Right. Bakura never got His number.

Bakura never got His name.

-------

“Seems I’ve got your attention now.” Bakura grinned, cheeky as he could muster, folded like a lawn-chair on his own bed.

His lover hummed, stopped over and almost inside him, dark eyes pleasedly drinking him in. “I’m glad to give it,” His lips brushed Bakura’s nose, the sweet lilt of his voice slipping into a low purr that set shivers on Bakura’s skin. “I like taking care of my pets.”

“Am I not your only pet?” Bakura joked.

But his lover didn’t laugh, the playful gleam to his eyes receding. He looked over Bakura with the same appraisal he’d given at the station, as if determining worth.

His hand moved down, taking Bakura by the need. Bakura tensed and gasped and canted his hips. His throat was stricken shut, his body pliant and needy under the slow, spoiling touch.

“I think I’d like you to be.” he asks, with a steady, pretty voice. Bakura was pinned under focused hands and pretty brown eyes - like sinking into warm molasses. Like coiling up on cool ground in dusky autumn. “Do you want to be?”

He smelled a sweet crispness on his lover. He smelled the musk of petrichor.

“Well,” Bakura breathed, languid and labored, a boat over rolling pleasure, “if you treat ‘em all like this…”

-------

The pillows stopped smelling like Him.

It all stopped smelling like Him. One’s flat and course and He was so, so soft. One’s too much, not in the way that He soothed him. The mattress is uncomfortable without another body. The blankets are too hot and don’t keep in the heat, not how He did. Hours and hours and hours pass, but every time Bakura sets his mind blank, his lungs nearly seize with His absence.

He springs up, heads to the front door of his shitty studio apartment and -

Stops.

-------

“I don’t make promises lightly,” he said to Bakura’s skin, lips gently dragging across his forehead. “I promise I’ll be back, quick as I can be. so stay put, pet.”

“Wouldn’t have to if you make calls instead of leave,” Bakura murmured, arms around his lover's waist. He pulled him close, nose brushing at his spine. “I didn’t offer you my phone for charity, I want you to stay in my bed.”

“Oh, you’re precious.” He ran a hand through Bakura’s hair. He was so gentle, and Bakura had leaned in so fully. He half thought they’d both fallen in love. “When everything’s settled, you’ll have however many whatevers you want.”

“Ooh - you do spoil your pets.”

He laughed as Bakura pulled him backwards into his lap. He tilted into a kiss, the pleased hum a welcome tingle across Bakura’s lips.

“Do you want to know something?” He asked, smiling as Bakura brought him close again. Mouth to mouth, he confessed, “you’re going to be the first pet I ever kept.”

-------

“Stay put, pet”

He knew. He knew what He was saying with that - knew Bakura wouldn’t be able to even look at the doorknob without thinking of His voice, of His pretty eyes and the sad little crease that would form if he didn’t stay-

No. Bakura shakes the words off. He reaches for the knob again, twists it tight because he needs to leave. He needs to go and find someone - no, find Him, find Him and make Him explain or undo or just come back so he can eat and sleep and do something with his life again.

“Stay put.”

So, He has to be closeby, doesn’t He? He has to be somewhere that He could easily come back, if He truly thought it wouldn’t be so for long. But not so close that if Bakura leaves and He comes back while he’s gone-

His hand drops from the doorknob.

He’ll never get out of here. He’ll never sleep again. He isn’t coming back and Bakura is going to die trapped and starving and delirious for a stranger, with no way to break down the door-

Not by himself.

Frantic, he opens his phone again. The new messages give him immediate access to Malik’s number. Another chance to call him, to call the only person in Bakura’s periphery that isn’t Him.

He just has to hit the Call button.

Malik [Today, 6:18 AM]: Bakura. I don’t know whether or not this is about what I said last time.

It isn’t. He doubts Malik will believe that. He doubts Malik would believe any of this. But there’s nothing else it could be - Bakura could only drink from what touched His lips. Can’t focus on sleeping where it doesn’t smell or feel like Him. Can’t focus on eating anything He hasn’t touched or wanted. Can’t focus on anything He hasn’t been a part of, his mind slides away like water off a duck -

Like now. He needs to hit the call button.

Malik [Today, 6:26 AM]: I know it wasn’t easy to hear. It wasn’t easy to say either. And I understand you needing space or to ignore me or cut me off or whatever, I _get it_.

He doesn’t. Bakura doesn’t even get it. He doesn’t understand how one question could have ruined everything, of course it was that question. It was the first thing He’d ever said to Bakura and it’s the only reason Bakura would ever agree to get lunch with a stranger, or to bring home a loon like Him. It’s the only reason to tell Him he would steal, that he got caught, that one brush with jail bars meant Diabound didn’t eat for a week, that he swore he would never, never do that to her again-

He needs to hit the Call button.

Malik [Today, 6:31 AM]: But I’m actually starting to _worry_ about your dumb ass, so at least tell me why no one _else_ has seen or heard from you for a week.

Because he’s bewitched by a beautiful boy with a laugh like a siren's song, eyes he could sleep in forever, swans-down hair, who owns his attention like a keepsake. Who plucked it from Bakura’s very hands because He asked Bakura for it. And Bakura gave it to Him fucking gift-wrapped.

Because he hasn’t eaten in days he hasn’t cared to keep track of outside of… however long he’d been without that creature who carries his mind in His pocket. Because nothing of Him is out there and day by day, less of Him is in here. He’s going mad in a fucking cage and it’s going to drive him insane. Because he can’t think of anything but Him, do anything without Him -

So if he can do anything at all, he can put all of his focus into talking. About. Him.

He hits call.

One ring. It’s shrill.

Two rings. It’s a familiar pitch.

Three rings. It’s like when He whined the first time Bakura sucked at His neck.

Four rings. It’s not like it at all, actually, when he thinks more on how -

“Where are you?” Raspy, dazed, and startled, Maliks’ voice filters through. The familiar voice feels alien to his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Home.” He croaks, voice like strained wood. “I’m,” speaking more isn’t better. When did it become so difficult to speak? “I’m at home.”

“Why didn’t you say if you’re okay?” There was rustling, muffling and unmuffling on the other line. “What happened, why do you sound like that?” His voice is strained by movement.

“I - met someone.” Bakura presses the speaker button - he can’t handle this voice to his ear. “He has - he stole my-”

knockknockknockknockknock

Everything freezes. The voice rolling in his head chimes from behind cheap wood.

“Bakura?”

The phone slips from his hands. He hears something from Malik before it’s knocked away by the door swinging open. A body flings against him and he’s enveloped in that familiar warmth, softness, sweetness.

“I’m so sorry,” He whimpers and holds Bakura tighter. “I’m so sorry, it wasn’t supposed to have taken that long, it shouldn’t have taken that long-” He cuts himself off, presses His lips to the space above his ear; Bakura’s thoughts damn near dribble out of his head. “But the cloudy nights meant no moon so the portal couldn’t manifest and I couldn’t-” another kiss, now to his forehead, “get back here when I wanted.” then another, and another after in a dizzying display of apologetic affection. If he wasn’t held so tightly, he’d collapse.

“Portal?” He croaks.

He gasps, pulls Bakura away to take a better look.

And He looks… different.

His teeth were not so sharp before. The ears hadn’t been pointed. And He certainly - last Bakura had seen - had white sclera to His eyes, not the wholly-consuming brownness he sees now. Why does He seem taller when He hasn’t changed at all?

A soft hand raises to his cheek, thumbing beneath his eye. The nail is longer and sharper than the nails he’d felt against his back. “Oh, ‘Kura, you look exhausted.” He says, soft and remorseful. “You must be starving too, poor thing. Come with me, come.”

Leading Bakura by the arm, he takes the half-dozen steps to the bed, where He sits. Too gracefully, His hand slides across the covers, over a pillow. Something shifts - as if the bed came into focus again.

Bakura crumbles onto the mattress and a wafting rightness falls over his body. He smiles, fingers threading his hair like a pelt.

“Before you actually sleep, you should eat.” He takes a bag in hand - Bakura didn’t see it before, did He come in with it? - and sets it at Bakura’s side.

Bakura snatches the parcel as soon as it’s out. He tears the string off and plunges his fingers into the bowl inside. His fingers, becoming sticky with the juices, scramble to forklift pieces into his mouth. Pure, moist sweetness melts on his tongue, along honey-berries and soft pebbles, sweet and tart. Chewing has never felt so good.

“I read that humans digest better when they sit. But you seem so tired, I can’t not let you lie down - I suppose it’s fine this time, we just won’t make it a habit.” He talks nonsense as Bakura guides each bite to his mouth, as quick as he can, as slow as instructed. “It would be best if you ate it all, can you do that?”

As if he needs to be told twice.

“Good pet.” He seems chipper again. “I’ll clean a bit before we start packing for you.” Bakura doesn’t understand - packing? - and He doesn’t explain, just leaves a soft kiss on his forehead. It’s like a mild current to his temple; a warm electric thrum under his skin, numbing the thoughts, the brain. “So eat and rest all you need.” His fingers, slow and calm, run through his hair. Lightly, the tips drag across his cheek. “When you wake, we’ll get you cleaned up and get Dia in her carrier.”

He doesn’t have a strong smell, Bakura notes. He’s just the locus of Bakura’s obsession, having a hold of every sense to its farthest point - his brain disregards everything that isn’t Him as nothing.

At that moment, at every moment, He is everything.

“And once you’re properly settled,” He purrs, “you’ll have my full attention.”

#tendershipping #ygo #yugioh #yami bakura #bakura ryou #ryou bakura #starvation #feyfic #dubcon #obsession #mindfuckery #in the horror sense #this is a horror #my writing

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yuusaris · 3 years ago

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Doc Dump - Bimbo WIP [abandoned. sfw]

@tepperzart actually wrote the first paragraph of this one! That's all him baybee! Show love to my bean, he's an amazing artist and writer and the best editor I could ask for.

Meanwhile, I just found my want for a bimboified Bakura works much better for this feyfic continuation I'm playing with, a wholecloth plot on it's own wasn't working out as I was writing it, and this set-up was gunna be very different between me and Tay, who kicked the draft off.

If he does his version in more depth, fantastic! I just have it set up here because it was a set-up for me to riff.

As usual, multiple dashes means scene break, two dashes means there's a gap.

[Surprise thiefshipping or whatever it is tender?? Idk for ashley watever its called, a take on the possession thing]

It was when the candle was lit that the spirit of the ring spoke up in Ryou’s mind: Tampering with magic? This game you’re playing is rather interesting, landlord.

A small smile touched Ryou’s lips while he crossed his legs. Blue eyes swept across the salt circle for one last time before the young man closed his eyes peacefully. He could feel the tug of doubt from the spirit at the fringe of his mind.

You don’t honestly think you could get rid of me, do you? The voice dipped into a low growl.

“Not get rid of, no,” Ryou answered aloud, bringing the candle holder closer to his face. He opened his eyes just long enough to blow out the flame. “But you have worried me lately, so I just want to help… purify you a bit, that’s all.” The golden ring started to glow from under the boy’s shirt, basking the room in white illumination.

You fool! What have you–

The voice cut off abruptly.

Ryou sighed and leaned back on the floor, relaxing now that the ritual was over with. “Spirit? Are you there?” He said tentatively, one hand brushing against the millenium ring. For one moment, he became worried that the clerk at the occult store had steered him wrong, or that he had accidentally hurt the spirit somehow. “Spirit?” He blinked several more times, holding his breath.

Yeah? The voice was small, but definitely there.

Ryou sighed in relief. “I thought you were a goner for a sec,” he admitted.

Me? Oh. A pause. I’m fine.

“Uhm… really? Ryou scratched his cheek. He said with some hesitation, “...I thought you’d be mad.”

Mad?

“Uhm, yeah…” Ryou stood up and rubbed the ring. “Are you… sure you’re alright?”

Mmn… I like when you pet me.

Ryou squeaked and dropped the ring back onto his neck. “You can… you can feel that?” He suddenly felt embarrassed. “Inside the ring?”

Yes… it’s like you’re petting my head.

Ryou gulped. He had definitely done… something to the spirit. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too angry once the purification wore off.

;l;

-----

When he woke up, he was not the one awake. His limbs moved without him, following the will of another.

Spirit had taken the body again, but failed to pacify Ryou. He wasn’t in his Soul Room. He was - in the kitchen, watching the Spirit handle a-

Put the knife down! He cried.

Spirit turned at a languid pace, staring at Ryou’s semi-transparent self as if just registering a question about the time. "Mm’kay.” He then shrugged, too simply for usual, before turning back to - whatever he was doing, Ryou came closer to the Spirit to look.

You... woke my body up… to eat, Ryou was developing a habit for stating the obvious.

“I’m hungry,” Spirit replied. Ryou watched him shove the small, unused half of a banana and shove it in his mouth before setting the two bread slices together. “ ‘N’ y’wer’n’ ‘wake,” he added around the fruit. Ryou wasn’t even aware they’d had bananas. Or peanut butter.

The Spirit swallowed. “You used to eat these a lot,” he said, surprising Ryou. “So I know how to make ‘em.” He watched the Spirit move to the couch with his food, setting it on the coffee table. Ryou didn’t want to respond to what the Spirit said - he never liked peanut butter and banana (his sister had) but his father kept making them for lunch (When he was around). Perhaps out of habit.

(Perhaps because Father had loved Amane more than him.)

(He’d rather bite a bullet than into another banana sandwich.)

Spirit, Ryou started, earning a questioning hum. About last night.

He stopped himself, expecting an interjection typical with the Spirit. But it never came. Just the same glossy look, watching Ryou fidget.

So, it had certainly worked, what Ryou had done. How it ended up working was the question. The Spirit wasn’t gone or absolved or, ‘redeemed but still cranky’ as Ryou had partially expected. He was simply… calm. And a little absent, but that could be disorientation.

The Spirit hummed again, waiting for more from Ryou.

That is - I mean... He trailed, how are you feeling?

The Spirit’s lips pursed in thought, a delicate shift in the brow. Ryou noted how lax his face seemed - he was used to the scowling. “Fine, I guess,” he said, before turning back to his food.

You’re fine? You guess? Ryou blinked. Not… mad?

He paused, mid-bite. Here we go, Ryou thought, time to see how far this went.

“Nuh-uh,” He said around a wad of bread. The Spirit swallowed and took another bite. “Why should I be?”

I - well, expected you to be. After last night. Ryou brought a hand to his chin. I can’t banish or destroy you, and… protection from you isn’t an issue for me, and you don’t have a body so binding you wasn’t an option.

“Ehhh, you're gunna take the Ring off?” Spirit sounded…. Sad. Was the only word Ryou had. “Don’t put it anywhere dark, okay?”

What - no, magic binding. It was my last resort, but the clerk started going off about - He lifted up his own Ring, hanging from his phantom neck. This. Is an artifact, right? Spirit nodded. Well, artifacts can be bogged down by negative energies, so if I can’t cleanse you, then I could cleanse the Ring.

The Spirit nodded again, humming attentively. Though, with him shifting to a more languid posture, Ryou doubted that would last. Even then, it looked like The Spirit was thinking more about the composition of his food than what he asked Ryou about in the first place.

So… Ryou trailed off with a sheepish shrug.

Spirit said nothing, just watching Ryou, chewing a new bite. Ryou saw a dull glossiness in his eyes - The Spirit’s usual sharpness, keenness, had faded. As if the cocoa had been siphoned out of a vat of milk chocolate, with only the color behind.

“So?” Spirit parroted Ryou in the form of a question. At first, Ryou thought he’d asked because he wanted an explanation as to why this was such a big deal to Ryou, a marker that the act of cleansing an artifact wasn’t actually that big a deal, let’s all have a laugh and pretend Ryou didn’t do that. But no, upon further inspection, The Spirit was still confused.

So… So I cleansed the Ring, Ryou - really had to explain that? And then you started acting - do you not feel strange?

Spirit blinked, a light of consideration passed his face for the first time that day. “Strange?” His brow furrowed, a free hand cradling his chin. “I can’t….” he - whined, was the best word for it. His sandwich waved it all off. "If you say I'm acting strange, then I must be."

You can’t think of anything strange?! Ryou felt on the verge of madness. You’re - actually feeding the body something reasonable and not utterly raw, you’re not… you don’t have any thoughts about what’s happening right now?

Still, the Spirit was preoccupied with the first question. His hand had moved from his chin to his head, massaging his temples as if a headache had formed.

The least you can do is say something!

Spirit accepted this with a frown and a hum, looking down at his food. "I don't like peanut butter."

---

"And you don’t plan on telling Yuugi or the Pharaoh,” Malik said over the phone, “at all?”

“ ‘Yuugi, I know you told me the Ring got lost on the blimp, but being the most knowledgeable on the Ring, I decided to scrounge about your room, found it and took it back and I may have done some damage with it, can you help’?”

“That - sounds reasonable, why are you saying it like it’s not reasonable?” Malik asked. Ryou simply huffed, pinching at his nose. "He probably knows you took it anyway - or at least that something happened, the Items are connected like that."

With worry, Ryou asked, "Would he feel something happen? How bad would this be if he could feel it?"

“Welll, he hasn’t called me this week, so, not sure yet,” Malik said. “It’s 4 AM? Here? By the way? You couldn’t wait another two hours?”

“I waited one and he spent it being an absolute chore, I put on a-” Ryou paused, then turned to the ghost. He hadn’t interjected once, ignoring the conversation to stare at the show on Ryou’s laptop. "I put something on to distract him and he’s staring at credits,” Ryou turned away, hand over the receiver, and asked, “you know this ended, right?"

You told me to watch it, Spirit answered.

“And now it’s over.” Ryou was starting to worry about that in particular. "Why didn’t you ask me to change it?"

Ehh? Spirit turned to him and blinked. You’d do that?

Ryous' words stopped in his throat as he turned that over. After a beat, he sat on the couch, ignoring how Spirit hadn’t moved for him. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he typed as he spoke. "You have no idea what he's like right now.” Ryou brought up his media folder. “Take your pick.”

Spirit blinked, looking over the names with a furrowing brow. For a second, he’d looked normal, taking in each name then - something. Ryou didn’t know what, but that look flittered off, leaving a visible absence behind as Spirit groaned, shaking his head. There’s too many. Pick something for me?

“Again?” He sighed, then resigned himself to putting on another Monster World stream he’d saved. “Here’s the next episode.”

The Spirit breathed a pleased sound, eyebrows raised - apparently, Ryou had picked well. Thank you, Landlord.

He let himself sit, stunned, for a minute, before turning back to the phone. “He just thanked me for something.”

---------

They decided to give it a day. If Spirit wasn’t better by the morning, Ryou would give more weight to considering telling Yuugi. This gave Ryou a good - he checked the time - 16 hours to come up with very good reasons why he:

A) Has the Ring again (without admitting he stole it)

B) will personally insist on meeting at the Game Shop, (despite Yugi having (almost) all of the Millennium Items and Ryou having one solid Item thief in his possession.)

C) without coming off as suspicoiusly concerned about the state of his apartment, (implying the structure is unsafe or revealing the Monster World diorama he was tasked with making by said Item Thief spirit)

(And by… something else).

There was a knock. Three gentle raps against the door with a curious “Landlord?” to follow. And last Ryou checked, he only had one tenant.

Another knock, another questioning call, another pause.

He opened the door and Spirit was just standing there. Blank and listless. Unsettlingly so.

“Why aren’t you…” Ryou murmured, gaining the Spirit’s attention but not an answer. He pointed to the door. Spirit looked, then looked back - still waiting for more. “What is it?”

“I can’t open the door,” he said. The Spirit moved to the opposing door, took the handle and pushed, as he was supposed to. No budge.

No. No way that was true. Spirit just wanted to get under his skin. Ryou moved from his own room to the door across and pushed.

And got nothing. It really wouldn’t open.

The Spirit simply watched his struggle, even as the growling shadows became more curious. “The Master can’t let me in.”

Can’t was an interesting word - but not one Ryou would dwell on for too long. “Isn’t it bad to stay out here too long, though?”

“I can’t open your door either.” Spirit shrugged. “But that’s different. That’s because you’ve told me not to come in.”

“It’s different when you can’t-” He pushed again, shoulder involved, and still nothing. Again and again - truly, they were both locked out.

Another growl, more intense, one the Spirit seemed to register this time.

“Alright,” Ryou sighed, “alright fine, just get inside.”

Both made the determined retreat back to Ryou’s room - and made sure to lock the door.

“I understand,” The Spirit said, then, quieter, the most he’s said on his own all day - “Thank you.”

Ryou, resting against the door, felt a chill.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked. “Why are you saying things like this? Why aren’t you - what’s wrong with you?”

“...There is, right? Something wrong with me.” The Spirit’s voice was low - a breakthrough at least! Spirit’s, eyes wandered to the side in thought. “But I don’t know what or.. Why… maybe when you…” A moment passed, then his head dropped into his hand. “Thinking about it hurts.”

Ryou watched the sorry sight for only a few seconds without comment. “Your head’s been hurting a lot today, have you noticed that?”

“I dunno,” Spirit said. “I dunno.”

“Do you know anything?” Ryou asked, then jumped back in with “Off the top of your head, don’t press yourself.”

“I’m acting strange,” Spirit said, almost as a question, “and my head’s been hurting a lot today-”

“Those are things I’ve been saying,” Ryou groaned, kneeling by his other half, “I’m asking you.”

“I don’t like peanut butter,” Was next - that, at least, Ryou recognized. “You’re going to call Yuugi,” debatable, but proof he’d been at least listening to what was being said. “You… you…” He trailed off, fingers tightening at his temple. Struggling, and pushing himself, clearly.

“Spirit… anything that’s changed,” Ryou pressed again.

A pause. Spirit’s eyes open, calm again. “Oh.” Spirit’s hand drops, the resistance fading from his person, body untense. “That’s easier. The Master is gone.”

----

Ryou stared at the Spirit of the Ring, whose clouded brainspace was thick enough to cut with a knife. How easily, calmly, he had said such a grand thing.

“The Master is gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Ryou asked.

“He’s not here,” Spirit said. “Not out there or in me.” The next question is answered before Ryou can ask it. “I am The Master in the same way I am you.”

“Where has he gone?”

“Behind the door,” Spirit answered. Both of them, with recognition, turn towards the exit of Ryou’s Room. On the other side was the Spirits - or what Ryou had assumed was his - studio Soul Room for one. Now, however, he was getting the implication there was a double bed. “It won’t open. And The Master is gone from me, too... That means he can’t be where I am.”

“Which means it can only open from the inside… which he can’t do.” Ryou stated the obvious conclusion. “Good Lord, you’re going to end up practically living here.”

Spirit looked to Ryou. “Is that bad?”

“Is it not?” Ryou sniffed, looking at him as well.

Spirit shrugged as he looked around. “I like your room.”

#doc dump #dump doc #my writing

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yuusaris · 3 years ago

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Good news - FeyFic was a great way to take me away fgrom my Wedding Soup Tunnelvision, feels like I' coming back to it with fresh eyes. Feels like I can give it a breather.

Bad news - I may need to scrap everything again.

#me flavored soup

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yuusaris · 3 years ago

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Rules: tag people you want to get to know/catch up with

Tagged by - oh, god @pyro-sea I just saw your blog on desktop for the first time and I was not expecting to be invited to a bowling alley birthday party - I'm here for it, don't get me wrong, I just did not bring any money for Shirley Temples, the quintessential drink of bowling. As we all know. [/jk ilu]

Last Movie At Home: My husband (@tepperz) and I just watched Encanto last night. And it is solid, I've been listening to Surface Pressure all day, I'm in love with Luisa, what's the news there... I have my little umbrages' with it (Mostly spoiler stuff, but also that I wish it wasn't Disney animation, I felt like it needed something a little more unique to really make the story pop - like how The Book of Life's already solid story is enhanced by it's style? I think a different animation style would have made it just a bit stronger.), but that's any Disney movie really? It was a fun movie, I haven't had fun with a Disney movie in a long while. I do reccommend it.

Favorite Color: Hnnnngggrhgleggfsjglaks don't ask me thiiiisssss, they're all good for different thiiiiings.

Uh, fuck, uhhhh llllightish red?

Last Song: Surface Pressure from Encanto, like I said. All day.

Sweet, Savory or Spicy: Ohhhh, they're all so good, but I gotta go with sweet. I love spicy foods and savory foods, but after eating any of them, I immediately crave sugar.

Currently Reading: A shit ton of witchy books that I haven't had the spoons to crack back open - primarily wanna finish Murphy-Hiscock's "House Witch" just to say I finished it, but at this point it's mostly a resource book. I wanna go through and highlight the parts I would reference though. Afterthat, I wanna pick The Crooked Path back up.

Otherwise, I'm currently on the audiobook for Iron Widow which is fantastic and gorgeously crafted. 11/10, recommended. Well worth it.

Currently working on:

So, like, I'm currently wrapping up the finishing touches on chapter 1 of my Body/Life follow up, Wedding Soup, which pal was kind and gracious enough to beta for me, and working through it with Tay, he and I are just trying to make some things more clear because the beginning isn't clear in how far back a flashback it is or if Ryou didn't know Bakura yet or not and ftgyhujiko a lot of things just need to be fixed.

Meanwhile, I need to start working on chapter 2 - Chapter 1 invovles an ao bozu, the second was planned to involve tsuchinoko but now I'm questioning if I'm really into the tsuchinoko angle as a choice for this, but I'm struggling to come up with more, so I just need to write it out, y'know? See what I want and what sticks, third chapter is nearly all the way written, and I know what I want for the others, but Chapter 2 really is kinda sticking it to me atm.

I am STILL working on the Rose/manipula fics Pyro requested in that prompt meme, but I'm making progress!

This is what I do when I'm stuck between paragraphs, I just blurt out what I want and how it should happen and then I color it purple because that's the color I use for text that needs to be changed/altered. I've doing this with manipula next, but it's been helpful for rose so far, I managed to bridge and eliminate a lot of unnecessary gaps and refine my pacing - it's still kind of a sloggy fic atm, but it's almost done and I can look it over more when it's a full copy.

Oh! I also started - okay Vrains has 120 episodes, I have 118 left to watch because I started a Chatshipping fic and I love them together, aaand I wanna work on a combo DM/Vrains vampire fic and for both fics I need to finish Vrains. My Chatshipper brain knows no bounds.

I'm also just dumping more FeyFic thoughts into a document right now - if anything, it'll at least be a good dump doc post, this fic is a plague upon my brain - Did i say Ryou stole Bakura's attention? he got mine in the deal too.

I am also.... on a binge to comment on every single ao3 fic in my bookmarks to show my appreciation for how much I loved reading it all, but got too self-obsessed to comment on when I added them. I'm really enjoying it, actually , even for fandoms I wasn't in for very long, there's a reason I bookmarked them, y'know?

And in my endeavors... I learned that - a lot of them updated.

With about 20+ chapters.

A piece.

I have... a lot of reading to do.

....

..... I'm gunna tag @justapalspal, @pyropelove413 @ygio and @tepperz

#me flavored soup #pain peko

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yuusaris · 2 years ago

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Next up, this was the plot-y part. I actually really like how this came out, but it's got so little context without the other stuff.

“You poor thing,” Ryou coos, “you’re part of a bonded pair.” He brushes His nose in ‘Kura’s hair, sweet breath rolling from the open-mouthed kiss to his scalp. “You can’t be apart or you suffer, I read about it. Poor pet - arguing with your bond-mate, I hadn’t realized.” He pauses, thinks. “Do you remember his name?”

He did. He had it, it was…

Gone. The name is gone.

Ryou sighs again at his headshake, holding him closer. “Think, love. Focus. You only forget what you don’t need to remember, remember? You can always remember what you don’t want to forget. You remembered your bond-mate, you can remember their name, I know you can, pet. The last time you saw him, the last time you were near him, how did you feel?”

“I was angry.” It’s coming back to him, in pieces. “He’d.. said something, there was something he said that I couldn’t,” he tries to remember, “let go…”

They’d argued, then. But it felt different, as though other arguments weren’t so bitter or nasty - he thinks he remembers a smile at the end of most.

“You’re stupid,” That Person would say.

“You’re stupid,” he would say.

But they’d both be smiling. That Person had a smile like gold, fine and bright and pure and rich and kissing him felt like a winter’s fire.

Kissing him? Kissing him, yes, they did that on occasion, deeper or lighter or just because. Later they were fewer and farther between occasions, ‘till the occasions disappeared altogether.

“It hurts,” That Person had said the day they never kissed again. “It hurts that you never fucking change.”

Change what? What point was there to change, he knew what he was - a snake. Cold-blooded and sleek and heartless. That Person demanded too many things from him that weren’t, aren't possible.

“Aren’t possib-!? ‘Ouugh, look at me, I’m a callous bastard who don’t need no one’, and you wonder why I dumped your ass,” That Person had mocked him - mocked him! - for his anger at everything. Anger at being abandoned like a puzzle piece removed from the box when that box was all he had to call home. “If that were actually fucking true,” he’d said, “you would have turned your life around before you got your fucking snake.”

Oh, he hadn’t even known what he’d said.

“Leave her out of this,” Bakura said.

“I’m not involving her in this-”

“Don’t you fucking,” His finger jabbed at Malik’s chest, “talk about her like she’s not-

“I’m not saying Dia didn’t deserve you getting your shit together,” Malik stressed his lie, lie, lie, “I’m saying you didn’t give a damn when I was almost begging for you to-”

“I wouldn’t still be your fucking dog if I ‘didn’t give a damn’-”

“Pretty shit thing to say after all that ‘heartless snake’ crap you’d fed me.” Malik’s teeth are grit, but there’s a vicious half-smile crawling across his face. “You’re no snake - you’re just a leech.”

And that had been it. Nothing left to say that would even resemble communication. Bakura’s words became ammunition and Malik responded in kind. Of course he did, he never took abuse, not for him or for those he loved.

Bakura loved that. Had loved that. But to have that bold, beautiful thing levied against him was nothing but pyrrhic victory for them both - they both left hurt, and grateful the other one was hurt too.

And he’d stormed back to the train station, to head home and eat cup ramen, feed Dia, then pass out after wanking miserably into a sock or tissue. He’d ignored the stupid messages popping up on his outdated block of a phone that he couldn’t upgrade if he wanted his power to stay on-

“Excuse me?”

Bakura looked over. A pretty thing stood beside him, with pretty brown eyes that had locked onto Bakura like he’d look at a mark.

“ ‘Kura?”

Bakura snaps back, a hand stroking his cheek. A wet bead rests at the corner of his eyes, wiped away by a thumb. The touch has a faded warmth, it’s been some time - he hadn’t noticed when it got there.

“Malik,” he says, “Ishtar.”

Ryou, after a beat, sighs and smiles that pretty, pretty smile. Satisfied and warm and pleased with him. “Malik Ishtar… What a handsome name.”

FeyFic Sequel - A Deadly Sort Of Sympathy [NSFW]