Discover Top Posts Tagged with #fair days

Alt + Delete, 2

Yeah, somebody a long time ago asked for Spectre trolling Yusaku for needing to be rescued from the Ignis.

Why did this not get posted until now?

Thank you, Takeru, Yusaku thought to himself as Revolver went down with a startled grunt and a heavy thud. He pinned him by the shoulder and the arm with all his weight and a knee in his back. Revolver bucked in his grip, seething.

“Playmaker!”

Yusaku struggled to keep him down, mind racing. What was he supposed to do now? Ai had probably gotten away, but so long as Yusaku was stuck here grappling he couldn’t exactly make his own escape.

And then things got worse, because Spectre chose that exact moment to arrive, striding through the door with a serious expression.

“Revolver-sama, we can’t find—what the hell are you doing to Revolver-sama?”

#yugioh vrains #vrains #ygo #fair days #yusaku fujiki #ryoken kogami #spectre #datastormshipping

October = fair days 😍🎪🎡

Not quite the definition of online dating, pt. 4

Maybe Yusaku is more ill than he first estimated, because his face seems to be strangely warm. He just feels so stupid, reaching up to poke the arm of what he knows is little more than a visual and auditory hallucination. His fingers pass right through, and Revolver makes a displeased noise.

“Nothing. Try harder.”

“That easy for you to say.” How exactly is he supposed to try harder? Is it entirely subconscious? Or a matter of concentration? As easily as moving through air, his hand just glides right through Revolver’s chest, until he’s practically waving to himself from the other side of Revolver’s torso.

Revolver shifts, even with Yusaku’s hand stuck inside him, until he’s looking right into Yusaku’s face with a cold, unimpressed expression. Yusaku finds himself stalling in place, caught by the color of Revolver’s eyes. They’re no longer the bright, hazard yellow of before, but they aren’t quite a match for his real eyes either, the hue far more lavender than Ryoken’s icy blue gaze.

“What were you thinking the first time?”

About how much he wanted to touch Revolver, even if it was completely impossible, but Yusaku is not going to say that aloud.

“Nothing.” He says firmly instead, pulling back. His hand leaves Revolver’s chest without so much as a ripple. “It was probably just your imagination.”

“Oh?” Revolver chuckles, a familiar note of mockery reminding Yusaku of their early duels, when Revolver looked at him as something small and inconsequential. “It’s not like you to give up so easily. Especially not before you’ve even tried.” Yusaku feels himself bristling, the blatant accusation smarting if only for how baseless they both know it is. Revolver knows exactly what Yusaku is capable of when he has the right motivation, better than anyone. Surviving torture, conquering datastorms, defeating insurmountable opponents; Revolver said himself that the impossible is Yusaku’s specialty.

But Revolver just smirks, crossing his arms. “Is that really the best explanation you can think of?” He shakes his head. “You’ve lost your edge, Playmaker.”

Revolver is antagonizing him, and it's obvious it only pisses Yusaku off more.

What was different about that moment when he felt them connecting, just for a fraction of a second? His earnest desire to be closer? Or the fact that he wasn’t really trying?

What he wanted to touch in that moment wasn’t Revolver, not necessarily, but the person behind both the avatar and the hallucination. The consciousness linked with the network, controlling the avatar that Yusaku’s mind interpreted as corporeal despite the sheer impracticality of the very notion.

Yusaku reaches out again, but this time, he lets his hands stay slack at his side's. Instead, he focuses on that rebellious, incomprehensible sixth sense that comes and goes, and feels the distant pulse of the network sweeping over his senses.

It’s here that he can touch Revolver, not back in his apartment. He has to exist in both at once, in two separate realities.

Opening the eyes he didn't realize he closed, Yusaku pretends the person before him is solid flesh and bone, something his hand can’t possibly move through.

And they touch, hand to hand. He can feel the coarse fabric of Revolver’s glove against his skin, and the weight of his muscle and bone within. Revolver is there, in the network, as warm and solid as he would be if Yusaku himself were standing next to him in avatar form.

Caught off guard, Revolver’s face has gone slack, staring at the hand creeping up his arm. He’s tense and still under Yusaku’s palm, and suddenly Yusaku realizes Revolver couldn’t move away from his touch even if he wanted to. It’s not a matter of reaching for the image he sees, but for the presence he recognizes in the network, the mind he can trace back to among the millions of others.

Maybe Revolver realizes the same thing, or maybe he’s trying to brush Yusaku’s touch off and finding he can’t, but he shakes his head. “Enough.” His voice is tight, and rough, shredded on the edges.

Yusaku reaches up with his other hand and places it on Revolver’s shoulder. He’s not sure where to go from there, as unfamiliar with intimacy as he is with linking with the network like this, but he doesn’t rush. There’s time to explore, to figure what feels right, to relearn how to hug someone.

It’s not so hard to make theory into practice and loop his arms around Revolver’s middle. Curiously, he rests his ear against a firm chest, feeling the push of Revolver’s lungs as he takes a startled breath. There’s no heartbeat, just the hum of data and running code.

“Off.” Revolver says, his voice cracking over the edges of the word. Under the mask, his face seems redder than before.

“You started this.” Yusaku reminds him, before pushing up on his toes to stare at Revolver nose to nose. “I could kiss you, you know.” He doesn't know where the words come from, his mouth moving before his brain. It sounds like a threat. No, he means it as a threat, because apparently Ryoken can't run from this, not like he ran away before. “There’s nothing you could even do to stop me.”

“Like you have the guts.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Yusaku tilts his head and presses forward. The angle is the hardest part to manage, trying to avoid the edge of glass threatening to poke into his face. And even if the gesture is more sideways than he’d like, Revolver's lips are cool and slack under his, the sensation spreading through him until everything tingles pleasantly.

Wrapping his arms around Revolver’s neck, he presses harder and harder until Revolver’s lips are parting, and things become warm and wet. He feels the vibration of Revolver groaning more than he hears it, and though he wants more and his toes are curling against the floor, Yusaku pulls away.

The deep, twisted frustration on Revolver’s flushed face gives him pause, and suddenly Yusaku realizes just how much he’s stepped over the carefully drawn line between them.

“Fuck.” Revolver whispers, “How do I touch you?”

Ah. He misread the kind of frustration Revolver is feeling.

“I don’t think you can.” Yusaku admits. “I don’t think it goes both ways.”

That, evidently, isn't what Revolver wants to hear. He glares at Yusaku for a long, tense moment, and then says, “Wait here.”

Then he's gone, just as suddenly as he appeared.

And Yusaku realizes Revolver had been watching him kiss air in the middle of his empty apartment.

“Fuck.”

#vrains #yugioh vrains #datastormshipping #fair days #ygo

DSS prompt: lick

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Excellent idea.

Consider this also for all the requests for a Valentine’s Day ficlet!

Warnings: Uhh, virus-induced “drunken” silliness. The Hanoi crew having zero morals. Firewall Dragon.

The first and last attack crushes him into dirt at the bottom of a neat little crater. Another Firewall-OTK combo. A FTK, at that. He hadn’t even stood as much of a chance as he usually did. What the hell.

“I really thought that it would work.” He can hear Vyra whining from somewhere to his left, still collapsed in her own respective crater. Faust, the first to go down, has limped his way over and is helping her crawl out of it.

Moving sounds like a pain in the ass, so Ryoken just figures he’ll stay here at the bottom of his hole for the rest of his miserable life. Or until he can put Firewall Dragon on the ban list.

So much for his generals’ grand master plan to finally defeat Playmaker. The “status ailment” program Vyra created and hid in Ryoken’s protection software, without even asking him, had activated right in time, but the “reason hindering” effects had…not been quite what any of them expected.

Apparently, for Playmaker, dueling under the influence isn’t even a handicap. Because of course not.

Someone stumbled over to the edge of his crater. Probably Spectre. “Leave me here to die.” Ryoken groans.

That same someone stumbles over the edge and slides down, only to bodily throw themselves over him. Grunting at the impact of their weight, Ryoken finds his mouth full of blond and red hair.

Playmaker. Great.

#vrains #yugioh vrains #yusaku fujiki #fujiki yusaku #kogami ryoken #ryoken kogami #fair days

For DSS prompts: a ridiculous amount of time after they've finally gotten together, Ryouken really, really, tries to make a more sensual move on Yuusaku but Yuusaku doesn't realise it. When he does though, he's the one who manages to sweep Ryouken off his feet, much to the latter one's chagrin

This is super late and not quite what you asked for, but take this!

Ryoken is a stubborn man. He has to be. It takes a special kind of trained bullheadedness to lead a terrorist organization for the better half of a decade, without ever once having anything to show for it.

But even the most stubborn of men had their limits, and Ryoken eventually reached his. So here his is, after being bullied and cajoled and teased for well over a month, at Cafe Nagi’s metaphorical doorstep.

It’s such a stupid task, he doesn’t even know why he feels so nervous. A bit of hair, a bit of saliva—really, how hard can it be to get a couple of samples? It’s not like Genome is a real geneticist, or even a biologist; the guy specialized in computer science and programming. Ryoken could spit in the test-tube himself and Genome wouldn’t even know the difference between his and Yusaku’s “DNA”.

But Ryoken’s not going to do that, because he’s not a coward, and he’s not love-sick, and he’s certainly not a love-sick coward, no matter what anyone else said.

He approaches his prey as casually as he can manage. Settled in his natural habitat, Yusaku is at the table by the truck with a soft drink and the remains of what must have been lunch. Ryoken’s eyes hone in on the straw sticking out of Yusaku’s drink, watching as it disappears between Yusaku’s lips.

Yusaku isn’t surprised to see him, nor does he seem to think there’s anything out of the ordinary about the way Ryoken strides towards him. It’s nice that they’ve come so far, because once he thought it would impossible for Yusaku to be so lax in his presence again. Step by step, they’ve found ways to trust each other again.

And, well, Ryoken doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of that. Today, Ryoken is a man on a mission.

Yusaku looks up at him as he comes up to his side, Ryoken’s shadow falling over his face. Resisting the smug smirk he feels pulling at the edges of his lips, Ryoken give his best, most-dazzling smile.

“You have something in you hair.”

The smile catches Yusaku off-guard, big green eyes going wide. He’s defenseless as Ryoken reaches up and brushes his fingers through his dark hair; the locks are soft and feathery against his fingers as he takes his time, pretending to fumble. When he draws his hand back a moment later, it’s with a loose strand of hair clenched subtly between his fingers.

Yusaku’s faces turns a little pink, and Ryoken’s eyes follow the flush back to Yusaku’s lips. All he needs now is a saliva sample. With a distraction, maybe an arm over the shoulder or around the waist, he should be able to grab the straw without Yusaku noticing—

Quick as a viper, Yusaku pushes up from his seat and pecks a kiss onto Ryoken’s lips. The brief flash of warmth comes and goes in an instant, far too short. His face burns as he registers the lingering moisture on his lips.

As Yusaku entwines their arms and stares up into Ryoken’s face, he asks, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

#vrains #yugioh vrains #ygo #fair days #datastormshipping #kogami ryoken #yusaku fujiki #ryoken kogami #fujiki yusaku

For the requests/prompts of datastormshipping : I'd like to request the sequel of "Jacket" ( I'm curious on THE Takeru vs Genoma )

I agonized over this so much.

Sorry no Takeru vs Genome here. I’ll probably due an omake about it at some point though!

I’ll probably do a part three, because this got… rather emotionally complicated.

Jacket, pt. 2

The hardest part of their escape, in the end, is getting Yusaku into their car.

Yusaku digs his heels in, even as Ryoken pulls on him insistently.. Understandably, Yusaku is wary of the situation and all the people involved. This isn’t the first time Ryoken has led Yusaku to a nondescript vehicle, and he’s all too aware of their shared memories of that evening reflected in Yusaku’s wide eyes. With the sky turning red above their heads as the sun sinks, this scene is all too familiar.

It’s different this time, he tells himself. Ryoken’s no longer the child that followed his father blindly, nor is he the same teenager that did as he was told without question. This time, he’s the one in charge.

“Do you trust me?”

Yusaku is quiet, his green eyes staring unwaveringly into Ryoken’s own. It is not a topic either of them have ever broached willingly between them, too complicated and heavy even when they found their interests aligned. It was easier to just drop tools at Yusaku’s feet and walk away than actually talk about it. Easier to pretend that what was between them was just a matter of convenience.

Should this person trust him? No. He certainly should not. But Yusaku has never been the best at making sensible decisions.

Maybe the real question is whether Ryoken can really trust himself to not fuck this up.

Yusaku’s hand squeezes his. As expected, there’s not a trace of fear in his eyes. Foolish, he almost says, but he forces the reprimand down. He can ruthlessly mock Yusaku’s stubborn recklessness another time, when they aren’t in such imminent danger.

When he opens the car door, Yusaku slides in. Kyoko is watching them through the rearview mirror over her sunglasses, while Faust peeks over his shoulder in the passenger seat. It’s awkward, heavy tension settling in the air as Ryoken takes his place alongside their guest in the back. The harsh click of the doors locking only punctuating the heavy atmosphere.

Yusaku curls his arms around himself, pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders until he’s a tense ball of imperceptibly quivering limbs. His eyes remain bright and aware, trained ahead of him, until they all have no choice but to look away.

This isn’t going to be easy on any of them, even if Yusaku isn’t half as volatile as he used to be, before Ryoken’s father took his last breath. The accusations Yusaku can lay at their feet, even as he doesn’t, fill the car like water.

But adrenaline doesn’t last forever, and soon Yusaku’s apparently desperate struggle catches up with him. Lulled by the slow lurch of the car in the traffic and the still silence, it’s not long before even those lucid green eyes begin to slide shut.

The sense of relief is almost tangible as Yusaku falls asleep. Not giving himself anytime to overthink, Ryoken reaches over and guides Yusaku’s head over to his shoulder.

They return to the docks, not the mansion. With how long it took them to just escape the crowded city streets, there’s no doubt that their new enemies have their plates. Returning home is too risky, for now.

There’s no time for deliberating, but still Ryoken hesitates to wake Yusaku. It’s not just that Yusaku makes such a pitiful picture like this, curled up with his face so unusually slack; he’s not certain he’ll even be able to convince Yusaku to willingly step over the threshold of their yacht. Escaping with them is one thing, but stranding himself with them is another.

And.

And what?

And this is an opportunity. The Ignis is long gone, though Ryoken has no idea to where or when it fled, but that doesn’t mean there’s not anything about this situation he can take advantage of. It would be so much simpler to take down Playmaker, for one thing, if the Cyberse he possessed were to vanish in the confusion.

Ryoken knows what his father would have him do, and that is the hardest part of truly coming into his own as Hanoi’s leader. He’s not just making decisions for himself, but for an organization, for mankind, and that means that sometimes he must compromise his own principles.

His past hangups over such matters ended with his father dead, after all.

He slides an arm under Yusaku’s knees and curls another around his back, and lifts. For someone so thin, Yusaku is a heavy deadweight in his arms. His eyelids flicker, almost waking, and Ryoken mutters comforting nonsense in his ear.

The body in his arms relaxes again, and he’s not at all sure how to process that. Something heavy settles in his dry throat, even as he ignores it to board.

Spectre waits for them in the main cabin, settled by the wheel, and his sharp blue eyes stare unrepentantly at the figure curled in Ryoken’s arms.

“Start the engine,” Ryoken orders, before the other teenager can open his mouth. But even as Spectre turns back to the controls and the guttural purr of the engine starts, Ryoken can hear all the words Spectre didn’t say.

As they leave the docks behind, he sets Yusaku down in his and Spectre’s cabin. Something like guilt sits heavy in his chest as he fishes out Yusaku’s deck from his pocket. He takes the phone as well, turning it off and pulling out the sim card with practiced ease.

Kusanagi Shoichi will worry, and he will try to call, but he will not be the only one trying to find Yusaku. Even though they have protections against being traced, it’s not a risk they can afford to take, not while their opponents remain a mystery. Kusanagi is already being monitored, even if their mysterious foes seem to still be of the belief that he’s nothing more than a food vendor, so the less Kusanagi knows, the better.

They can afford no liabilities, especially not with Yusaku’s safety at stake. He’s safer with them, out here at sea, where even the most dedicated of pursuers will struggle to track them.

And likewise, as the one tasked with shielding humanity from the Cyberse, Ryoken cannot allow any liabilities here either. The deck is heavy in his hands. It’s a betrayal of the faith Yusaku has shown him, he knows. Then again, they both knew the answer to the question he asked should have been no.

Should he really feel guilty over the inevitable? This is for the best for them, Yusaku included.

But when he checks the cards, worn on the edges and slightly faded, a smile cuts his face like a mishandled razor. It’s not Playmaker’s, not even a single Cyberse hidden amongst a dummy deck of worthless cards.

Not so trusting after all, are you?

Refusing to acknowledge the relief that lightens his shoulders, he can’t help but approve.

#vrains #yugioh vrains #ygo #fair days #ryoken kogami #yusaku fujiki #datastormshipping

Datastorm prompt: Ryoken helps out at Cafe Nagi and becomes popular with female customers, and Yusaku is jealous XD

I was incapable of not putting espionage hi-jinks into this

It’s a normal day, up until Ryoken shows up and sits both Yusaku and Kusanagi down at a table.

“I have a business proposal.” He says. They just stare back. “SOL is hosting an exclusive event in a month, and I need in.”

“Don’t you have a spy in SOL?” Ai asks dubiously, poking his head out of Yusaku’s duel-disk.

“They will not be in position to attend.” Ryoken seems displeased by this, his eyes sliding shut for a moment, before reopening with increased intensity. “And attending under a fake name at the current time is too risky.” He pulls out a piece of paper and slides it over the table to Kusanagi.

Kusanagi looks at it, his eyebrows climbing higher on his forehead. “What is this?”

“A catering application.” Their visitor’s voice is layered with no small amount of disdain. “If you can get in, I can get in with you, as an employee.”

Kusanagi and Yusaku exchanges glances. Both of them turn to look at their truck, and the turn their eyes back Ryoken with identically skeptical expressions.

Refusing to take the hint, Ryoken continues to watch them expectantly. Kusanagi awkwardly coughs, a little shamed. “…Have you seen us? Do you really think an event like this will want us?”

A dangerous smile creeps over Ryoken’s lips. “They will if there are no other options.”

They set up shop in the convention hall. Yusaku’s never seen Kusanagi look so nervous, his pale face turning a little green as he stares over the crowds of exclusive SOL sponsors, clientele, and DM big-shots. Yusaku is pretty sure he caught glimpses of some members of the Crawford family among the VIPs. Industrial Illusions’ CEO is here with them, apparently, to announce the newest additions to the game.

Yusaku has personally hacked the servers, bank records, and correspondences of roughly half the people in the room, and he’s certain Ryoken’s rap sheet is even worse. Ryoken, who’s cool as anything and clearly in his natural habitat, even with an apron tied around his waist, despite the odd glances their set up is receiving. The other caterers, the few that Hanoi didn’t sabotage, are giving them offended glances, clearly affronted that their elaborate appetizers are going to be served alongside hot dogs.

Kusanagi tried his best. He’s been experimenting all week, trying to make a catering menu that wouldn’t be too offensive. The result includes something called ‘a pig-in-a-blanket’, which Yusaku still finds a little mystifying. But despite their efforts, it’s apparent that they’re out-of-place and understaffed. To better fit in with the bustling busboys and waiters the other caterers have brought, Ryoken dressed them both in neat black slacks and stiff white dress shirts. Now he’s making rounds around the room with a dazzling smile and a tray, positioning himself in all the right places.

Ryoken’s supposed to be inconspicuous. Instead, with every step he’s drawing the eyes of women, young entrepreneurs and bored wives gazing after him hopefully.

Something about it is deeply aggravating.

The businessman Yusaku shoves his own tray in front of take one glance at his face, jumps, and excuses himself. The rest of the little social circle subtly don’t meet his eyes and inch away. Across the room, a graceful woman is drifting after Ryoken, chattering in his ear.

The space around Yusaku is comparatively empty, all the attendees drifting to apparently anywhere else on the open floor. He sees his own venomous scowl in the reflection of a glass on his tray, and feels a little pleased by just how well it shows how much he hates everything about this.

Turning his eyes back to the one to blame, he finds Ryoken looking back. Their eyes meet. Ryoken makes a finger gun with his free hand and shoots at him with a knowing smirk.

Yusaku valiantly resists the urge to throw his tray across the room like a Frisbee.

#vrains #yugioh vrains #ygo #fair days

Datastorm prompt: blanket(s). I'm interested to see what you come up with; Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays!

His father taught him to love the stars. It was probably one of the only pure, untainted interests his father ever shared with him.

The night sky hasn’t been the same since his father died, but Ryoken doesn’t quite remember what was different about it before. In the peak of winter, the darkest days of the year, the lights hanging above them are shining as brightly as they ever have.

It should be romantic, sentimental. Instead, Ryoken is vibrating with the force of Yusaku’s shivers, listening to his boyfriend’s teeth chatter.

Ryoken glares at his companion, who glares right back even as he curls tighter into Ryoken’s side.

“It’s damn cold.” Yusaku mutters defensively, burrowing his face into the zipped collar of Ryoken’s old jacket: yet another spoil of war Yusaku stole from his closet because Yusaku is too cheap to buy his own clothes. It looks good on him, though. Puffy coats suit Yusaku’s delicate features more than they do Ryoken’s sharp angles.

It’s all very distracting. “I’m trying to have a moment.” What did he have to do for a moment of peaceful recollection and self-mediation?

“You’re always having a moment.” Yusaku points out mercilessly, giving up on the collar and instead electing to bury his ice-cold nose into Ryoken’s neck. He barely restrains himself from flinching away, but Yusaku’s equally chilled fingers have his arm in a vice-grip. “Can you have your moment inside? Preferably by the heater?”

Obviously not. Back when they were first house-hunting, he chose this house because he thought the rooftop patio would make for an optimal stargazing/brooding space. But of course, Yusaku would just foil his plans again; one of the many pitfalls of cohabitation.

Thankfully, Ryoken came prepared this time. He tugs the blanket wrapped around their shoulders a little tighter around them each and moves the attached dial up to its highest setting. Yusaku eyes him suspiciously the whole time, but is apparently too cold to bother with any further moving or talking.

As the heated blanket takes effect, Yusaku melts further into his side, finally satisfied.

“Fine. You win this round, Revolver.” He struggles to not smile as Yusaku concedes. So much for brooding, he thinks as he leans his head on Yusaku’s, feeling soft hair tickle his cheek. Maybe it’s still his loss after all.

#vrains #yugioh vrains #ygo #fair days #datastormshipping #yusaku fujiki #ryoken kogami