for @nero-the-dumbass as part of the @bakuraryouspeedrunexchange ! prompt was euroshipping, fluff, and most importantly a picnic. i did my very best to stick to the fluff =v= mokuba is here too
It's a beautiful day.
The blue sky overhead is dotted with puffy white clouds; the tree they've chosen to sit under provides enough shade to balance the temperature; the picnic basket is filled with a perfect array of treats - cheap pastries from Ryou's favourite bakery, the type of charcuterie board that he's learned not to look up the price of, and what he suspects might be actually home-made gyoza, judging from the charmingly clumsy construction. There's real Champagne, too.
Seto has really gone all out for this. It would be perfect, if the man himself wasn't so stiff and awkward. He's been uncharacteristically fidgety, today; Ryou can't think of a time in the last few years that he's seen him like this.
It's hard to say when things shifted between them, from 'something like friends who mess around sometimes' to 'actually dating'. Maybe the first time Ryou wore Blue-Eyes merch to hang out with everyone. Maybe the first time he was invited to a dinner that also included Mokuba. Either way, it's been about three years by Ryou's count that they've been exclusively seeing each other.
The thought makes him pause with a strawberry halfway to his mouth. Three years is quite a long time. Probably his longest romantic relationship, depending on how you count whatever was going on between him and the Ring. Definitely Seto's longest, unless you include pining for a dead man, which Ryou tries not to.
He watches Seto's long fingers curl in the fabric of the picnic blanket, and then uncurl.
Something is off.
Ryou eats the strawberry.
Seto was fidgety and distracted their whole way here, and now that they're sat comfortably, just the two of them, he seems to barely be paying attention.
It's not his usual impatience that suggests he doesn't want to be somewhere, or that he'd rather be engaging in his own interests. By now, Ryou is good at recognising that genre of behaviours — besides, it was Seto's idea to do a flower-viewing picnic in the first place, so it feels like it would be a little unreasonable for him to not want to be here.
The sense of dread that's been steadily building in Ryou's gut makes itself known to him, tightening his throat, dizzying his head. There are all sorts of reasons Seto might seem 'off', many of them perfectly reasonable.
Ryou's spider of a mind spins him the worst ones. The picnic, it tells him, is a way to soften a blow.
It's not like he hasn't expected it; he and Seto have their overlapping interests, and they're extremely compatible in many ways, but Seto's wealth and drive and ambition are a world away from Ryou's own. Eventually, he supposes, there was always a chance their lives would take separate directions.
So this is it. His mind weaves the narrative so clearly: Seto has found someone else, or just thinks they'd be better off apart, or something equally devastating.
He's always imagined that when it came to such an end, he'd be able to accept it, let it fall off his shoulders and move on. But it's been three years of half-expecting such an end, now, and he's gotten rather comfortable with their relationship.
It's not like he wouldn't respect Seto's decision. He just needs… a little bit longer.
He plucks another perfect strawberry from the fruit arrangement, and pushes himself to his knees, crawling over to practically sit in Seto's lap.
"Hey," he smiles, looking up at Seto through his lashes.
To his credit, Seto responds smoothly, without too much surprise, so at least he isn't so distracted that he truly isn't paying attention to Ryou. His hand comes up to cup Ryou's jaw, and his cheekbones get that splotch of red that normally means he's pleased to be slightly flustered.
God, but he's handsome. Ryou settles his free hand on one of those broad shoulders, lets it slip down over a defined collarbone, a little lower. Not enough to be inappropriate in public, but enough to signal intent. Seto's eyes, dark in the shade of the tree, narrow, focused now on Ryou, on the strawberry-red tongue darting out to wet his lips. The corners of Seto's own mouth curl upwards in what most would interpret as a cruel smirk, but which Ryou has learned indicates genuine happiness.
See? he thinks, trying to force the words to stay in his head and not fall out of his throat. See, don't you have a good time, when you're with me?
"Enjoying yourself?" Seto asks, voice low. Ryou can't tell if it's because he's playing along with the flirtation, or if he's just being quiet.
"I'd be enjoying myself more if you were eating too," Ryou suggests, and presses a strawberry against Seto's mouth; when he obediently takes it, Ryou lets his fingertips rest on his lips for a moment too long, shuffling ever-closer on his knees. "If you're going to be distracted, at least be distracted by me."
Seto's hand makes it way down Ryou's front to hold him at the waist.
No matter which of them is in control at any given moment, he never fails to make Ryou feel the size difference; Ryou isn't small by any means, but Seto towers a little, even when they're both sat down like this.
It's just one of his hands on Ryou's waist, though, which is unusual. On most occasions, no matter how distracted he is, he won't hesitate to hold Ryou with both hands, at least in attempt of manhandling him somewhat before getting pushed down himself.
The other hand isn't holding him upright. His core strength is plenty enough for that.
(Ryou hums appreciatively at the thought of other times he's kept himself in a certain position with core strength alone.)
The other hand is—
When Ryou cranes his neck to peek at it, Seto scoots it out of his view, holds it behind himself.
"Are you hiding something?" The question, laced with accusatory distrust, escapes him before he can hold it back, and Seto flushes deeper red than Ryou has ever seen him.
For a moment, their eyes meet, Ryou recognises that in that moment, both of them think that Seto is going to lie and say 'no'.
There must be something in Ryou's expression. Something — he can't tell, himself. Something angry, or hurt, or afraid. Something lost. For a moment, he feels disoriented entirely, like he's just woken up barefoot in his pyjamas halfway across the city with blood under his nails again.
Whatever it is Seto sees in his expression in that moment, he thinks better of trying to hide whatever it is, and instead, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, using the hand on Ryou's waist to guide them both back into sitting beside one another.
"We've been together for some years now," he says, voice still low. He's speaking slowly, like he's picking every word carefully, or reciting something he's afraid he hasn't quite memorised. A gentle voice, like he's trying to calm a spooked horse. It's somewhat out of character for him; only exceptional circumstances can shake his confidence. Ryou's only really seen him like this when they were first getting together.
And now, his rebellious mind hisses in his ear, he's seeing this side of him one last time at the end.
He bites his tongue.
"Throughout this time—" Seto continues. His stilted, formal tone feels like hands reaching into Ryou's ribcage. He's so far away, all of a sudden. Ryou can't bring his own hands up to touch him. "I've found so much happiness by your side."
Past tense, Ryou notes.
"But lately, I've found myself dissatisfied; I want more than this."
Of course: and why wouldn't he? Ryou had a few exciting teen years, but he's no high-flying CEO, no chess champion or King of Games. Not a business genius, nor with any desire in his heart to pursue such lofty heights. A decent storyteller with a pretty face, a steady hand, and a taste for the occult. Why wouldn't Seto want more?
"I understand," he chokes out. He's not going to let himself cry. Not until he's in private, at least. His teeth grind on the inside of his cheek. "Thank you, then, Seto, for everything. I'll, um. I'll—"
He starts pushing himself to his feet. It's a lovely spread; he won't be able to swallow another bite if he stays.
"What." Seto's voice flattens, sharpens into the usual biting tone; his eyebrows draw together.
Ryou does his best to smile at him, but can only really manage to press his mouth tightly closed, and clarity unfurls across Seto's face like a thundercloud.
He clicks his tongue against his teeth in annoyance.
"Ryou, you idiot, sit back down, I'm trying to propose to you."
They both freeze, eyes wide and locked on one another as they each process what Seto just said.
"What," Ryou echoes, and unbalances, collapsing back on top of his boyfriend. "Oof."
Seto's face is planted firmly into his palm when Ryou scrambles back upright. Wordlessly, he brings his other hand around to reveal what he had been fussing with and hiding the entire time: a box about the size one might expect for a proposal. Navy, with silvery details inlaid. It's classy at first glance, and, once you notice that the silver inlays are shaped like a very stylised dragon, it is extremely Kaiba-like.
"Please," he says, through gritted teeth and his own hand, "pretend I did not just call you an idiot, and instead respond as if this was an appropriately romantic moment befitting the scene and the weight of my feelings. For you."
Ryou stares at him.
Seto opens the box one-handed, smooth and practised.
There really is a ring in there.
It's beautiful - bright silver, nearly white in the sunlight, and scale-textured, inlaid with three identical deep blue stones. Ryou doesn't know what kind of gems they are. He supposes it doesn't matter: what matters is that he's never seen a piece of jewellery so representative of Seto. So obviously something to signal his presence and importance in the wearer's life. And Seto wants him to wear it.
Wants him to—
It all sort of hits him at once. He sways a little, staring at it. His mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out.
"I know that the institution of marriage is a complex and delicate matter, and family even more so, but having spent a good amount of time considering it, and discussing it with the only other member of my family, it would be meaningful to m- ah—"
The box is placed on the floor; both of Seto's hands come up to cup Ryou's face, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks to wipe away the tears Ryou hadn't even noticed were escaping.
"I'm — I'm happy—" Ryou hurries to explain. His own hands fumble, finding Seto's wrists, his shirt, his face, too. "Those are happy, I just, I didn't think—"
There were several points in Ryou's life, during which he had assumed he'd never reach a point where he was both old enough and in a happy enough relationship for this to happen. He supposes he never really stopped carrying that feeling, even years later.
He swallows around the lump in his throat.
"I never dreamed I could get this life," he confesses, helpless. "This is like a fairytale."
Seto kisses him, pulling him close with the force and intensity of a man who had been trying to hold back from exactly that for hours. He tangles fingers in Ryou's hair, pulls him close by the waist, and Ryou lets him, presses close, slots their bodies together. For a moment, he had though that he would never get to do this again; now, it feels like he's surfacing after drowning, gulping down lungfuls of air.
He's dizzy, and warm, and Seto's mouth tastes like strawberries.
He could do this forever. He's going to have the opportunity to, too. The thought sends electricity through his veins. He shivers a little, and smiles against Seto's mouth, which opens easily for him, so his tongue can—
"So he said yes, right?"
A loud, all-too-familiar voice interrupts, and Ryou jerks backwards, lest Mokuba see something he'd complain about for weeks.
"Actually," Seto says, not missing a beat even with rumpled hair and bitten lips. "He hasn't formally answered yet."
He's not wrong, but it's annoying that he looks so smug about it. Ryou tries to say something pointing out that technically, Seto hasn't formally asked yet, but his mouth opens almost of its own accord and instead simply says:
"Yes — yes, of course!"
Mokuba whoops, and sets off a party popper he was apparently waiting with the entire time, covering both Seto and Ryou with a light sprinkling of streamers and sequins. Seto, naturally, doesn't even flinch, taking the opportunity to sweep Ryou's left hand up in his own and slide the ring onto his finger.
Ryou catches a glimpse of the inner side of the ring, where the silver is interrupted by a snakelike ouroborus in gold. It'll be pressed against his skin like a secret, without interrupting the rest of the design. He almost wants to cry again.
The ring slides into its new, permanent place, and Seto smiles at him, in that sweet and boyish way that's reserved for private moments, moments where he forgets any need to keep his guard up.
"I love you," he murmurs. Ryou fancies his eyes are wet, too. Just a little, maybe.
Their fingers tangle together. Ryou leans on his boyfriend — his fiancé, now --resting his head on Seto's shoulder. Mokuba throws himself comfortably onto the blanket to pour everyone a glass of champagne, and begins to chatter about plans for the rest of the day, between bites of cheese and crackers. A kiss is pressed to the crown of Ryou's head. He finds he's more comfortable with the idea of a celebratory get-together than he expected, especially given that his friends will be there. He wants to tell them. He wants everyone to know. A petal from the blossoms overhead lands in the glass of champagne that was poured for hum. His phone begins to light up and buzz excitedly; he'll get to it later.
"I love you too," he hums against Seto's jaw, and it comes with no spike of anxiety, no fear of loss, no worry that there are things he should regret or hold back.
Perhaps, he thinks, the rest of his life can be this peaceful. And for once, he actually feels like he might really want that. Something like a normal life.
"Oh, good point," Seto says in response to something Mokuba was rattling off at high speed around a mouthful of pastry. "Ryou, did you want to learn to pilot the Blue-Eyes White Jet?"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Here's my story for the @bakuraryouspeedrunexchange
@ohnomirrorcoat gave me the prompt of "connection" with Yami Bakura as one of the options for additional characters. Enjoy~
My submission for @bakuraryouspeedrunexchange is here!!!! GYAHHHHH
If I Could Keep Even A Memory of You [ao3]
one-sided Ryou/Marik in a Season 0-adjacent AU (see work for more tags)
my prompt was from @crush3dmary (Ryou and Yami Bakura as co-conspirators)! I hope you enjoy! I honestly didn't get as dark as I wanted but I humbly offer this fic regardless 🙏
