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claudeng80 · 4 years

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Succession

Lilias is the city of snow, not of sunshine, so when a heat wave rolls through just on the cusp of autumn, the guards in their heavy cowls aren’t all that wilts. When Shirayuki shuffles back into her room at the end of the day, she’s layered in sweat and sandy from wrist to elbow. Even with the heaviest gloves, there’s stuff under her nails, and she can’t wait to get clean.

There’s two letters in her basket, which she picks up by the corners. There’s no way she’ll keep from smudging the envelopes, but that’s not going to stop her from trying. She sets them on the table, washes her hands one more time, then comes back to the one with the blue seal. She’s received many of these since coming to Lilias, some thick and some thin, some Zen’s words written by Mitsuhide and some in Zen’s own dashing hand.

She breaks the seal and flips it open, and inside she finds a truth they’ve been avoiding for years. The sand in the hourglass has run out without them changing Izana’s mind, and now that the fishing rights situation with Tanbarun has been clarified, Zen will be marrying the second princess of the Western Isles in the spring. He’s sorry. He hopes to be her ally for always and her friend, and regrets any hardship his actions and decisions have caused her.

It’s very polite and well-worded, and she braces for the tears an ending like this should bring. It takes a minute to accept that she doesn’t really feel like crying. She’s not surprised. She’s not upset. It doesn’t even feel like she’s lost something, because very little about their friendship will truly change. She’s his ally now and always. Perhaps she’ll be upset later, but for now she just flips her other letter to open it.

This one is sealed with a device she doesn’t know, a coat of arms impressed in yellow-orange wax. The handwriting of the letter body is unfamiliar too, but that of the postscript isn’t, and the juxtaposition is a mystery. Prince Raj is not one to go adding notes to others’ letters. He writes his own when he wants to speak to her, lengthy tomes on decadent paper, sometimes perfumed. Flipping ahead to the signature shows the even handwriting is Mihaya’s, clearly the beneficiary of far more lessons than Shirayuki ever had.

So it’s with natural caution that she starts reading, shading into disbelief as the point of the letter becomes clear. “Since you so kindly agreed to my offer, the prince and I have submitted your claim to the king and it has been accepted. For the purposes of inheritance, until I should have children you are second in line for the Sisk title."

Shirayuki blinks. When did she agree to that?

Ostensibly they’re playing cards for walnuts, any higher stakes far too dangerous at a table including the princes of two countries and Obi, but in truth a lot of what’s going on is drinking. Zen’s been working on improving his alcohol resistance, but his intentions have long since outstripped his body mass and when he stands to make a trip to the water closet, he stumbles and only Obi’s lightning reflexes prevent his descent to the floor. Zen grabs at Obi’s shoulders with a giggle. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up,” says Obi, and the two reel off.

It’s an odd feeling to be left alone in the room with Mihaya and Raj. It’s unlike Obi to ever let her out of his sight when Mihaya is present, but she realizes what Obi had probably assessed before Zen ever tried to get out of his seat. Mihaya’s a stiff breeze from going face down on the table, and Raj is giggling to himself. Both men are far too soused to be any kind of a threat. She attempts to shuffle the cards, not sure what else to do with herself, and they spray all over the table. “Prince Zen is a good guy,” slurs Raj. “He’s good. I like him now.”

“I’m glad,” Shirayuki says, wondering if she’s going to manage to get all the cards back together before Obi sees what she’s done. Raj lists to the left and she pauses, thinking maybe she should find him some crackers. She’s been nursing the same glass all evening, but on top of the wine at dinner she isn’t so sure she can trust her feet either.

“He only has one problem. One,” Raj continues, lifting a finger with all the seriousness he can muster. Mihaya nods, the pink on his cheeks ruining his attempt to match Raj’s gravity. “He should marry you. You’re a friend of the- friend of the- friend of me. Special. Mihaya said he’d adopt you. You should try that.”

She knows she said no once before for perfectly good reasons, but right now she’s having trouble remembering what they were. “Okay,” she says, certain that none of this nonsense is going to mean anything to anyone.

It’s too bad that when she wakes up the next morning in a castle guest room with far too many windows, the entire night is a blank.

“Per the king’s ruling, your position within the family is similar to that of a younger sister. You are not officially a sister by law, though, so if your arrangement with the prince were to end and you wanted to cement the title-” She reads that paragraph again to make sure it says what she thinks it says, and it does. She scans the next few paragraphs for any more surprises, past discussion of her proper address and correct display of heraldry, but it’s all gibberish.

A dangerous giggle forces its way between her lips, and she tries to swallow it back to keep it from taking control.

“That’s not how I’d thought you’d be reacting,” Obi says, and Shirayuki drops the letter with a shriek. He’s just let himself in through the door, and the look on his face tells her he’s had his own letter from Zen. There’s an apology on his tongue that she doesn’t want to hear, so she snatches up the letter from her lap and waves it like a cape before a bull.

“I got a letter from Mihaya,” she says. “Apparently I agreed to something when we were last in Tanbarun?”

“What’s the monkey done now-” Obi grumbles, but he accepts the paper and scans it. It’s obvious enough when he gets to the point, because his mouth drops open. “His heir?”

“I think he still feels bad about trying to sell me-”

“More likely he’s using you to curry favor with the prince. He adopts you, Raj is thankful, Zen marries you and he’s brother-in-law to a prince-” In a second his anger freezes as he realizes what he’s just said.

“Won’t he be surprised, then.” Her voice is hoarse, but there are still no tears.

Obi’s eyes tilt into apology, but he goes back to reading. He’s a far faster reader than he likes to pretend, and she knows when he reaches Mihaya’s vague proposal by the way his nose wrinkles. “You couldn’t- you wouldn’t take him up on that, right?”

She hasn’t given it a second’s thought. She never really felt the need to marry, certainly not someone in another country who’d take her away from the work she loves so much. She has everything she needs for a happy life right here, but she’s not above teasing a bit. “I don’t know, do you think he feels guilty enough to give me all the gardens I wanted?”

It doesn’t have the desired effect. Obi doesn’t look teased, he looks staggered. “I would,” he breathes.

There’s nothing but silence in the room. She’s not even sure her heart is beating. “I’d dig them myself, you know I could do it,” he adds, his voice a little stronger now but his eyes terrified. He drops to his knees. “I’m no prince and no noble. But would you have me instead?”

Zen knelt before her once, laid his sword on the ground before her. A noble gesture, a knightly one, but still a gesture. Obi raises his eyes to hers, his hands open and empty. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t try to convince her. All he does is ask and offer and wait.

He doesn't wait long, though. She's still reeling from the question when terror closes out the hope from his eyes, when he drops his gaze and starts striking out for safer ground. "Or you know I'll dig your gardens anyway, nothing needs to change-"

He pushes to his feet, moving like a heavier man, like there's lead in his chest, and for once she's the faster one, catching his hands before he can retreat. There's a tremor in her the touch of his skin, as she looks at a future with Obi and finds the vision a joyful one. His hand in hers. A tear in his eye as he cradles a baby with dark hair that could be reddish in the light. Wrapping those same beloved hands with medicine when he can no longer ignore how the joints ache.

“Yes.” The answer is easy on her tongue, and she would say it a hundred times to watch the look on Obi's face. He's called her his home, in moments before when he's been moved to seriousness. He's owned a roomy place in her heart now, for so long, and when she says she has everything she needs to be happy, that includes him, there by her side, in her thoughts, part of her. “Not right away, but yes.”

Now he's the one speechless, dipping his head to press his forehead against the backs of her hands. Sand grates between them, and even as it irritates it feels right. They fit together. They belong. They've found home in each other.

#obiyukiweek20 #courtesy #obiyuki #fanfic #in which mihaya adopts shirayuki #thank you kaedix for beta reading and not letting me be lazy

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 4 years

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I Should’ve Met You Yesterday, Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks, as always, to @maverae for betaing!

One of these days this vacuum is going to break... or Obi is.

#bubbleswrites #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #obiyukiweek20 #more single dad au for your viewing pleasure :3

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ruleofexception · 4 years

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Sword & Bauble, Ch7: With all that I am and all that I ever will be, I love you

All but one candle has died and even it is on its last limb.

The flame waves and flickers, though there is no breeze in the room to make it dance as it does. It taunts her. Mocks her. Whispers that, soon, she shall be plunged into darkness because she had been foolish enough to believe this would be easy. Naive enough to hope that leaving the Underworld would be simpler than clawing her way here had been.

A single sputtering flame in a lousy, spent candle has done more to make her realize just how tightly the Underworld holds onto the souls it has claimed, than that monster who lurks in the depths of the ocean had. It’s also making her regret her decision to not bother telling Hisame that their room was in need of replacements.

Though, she had not planned to stay another night, until-

Until-

Bauble gripped tightly in one hand, the pin digs deep into her palm; a reminder of the promise she made to Obi. The promise she refuses to break.

She need only think this through.

#obiyukiweek20 #day 7: loyalty #obiyuki #ans #akagami no shirayukihime #sword & bauble #IT IS COMPLETE #I MADE IT ALL 7 DAYS #HOLY MOLY

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sabraeal · 4 years

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Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 7

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 4: Free Day

The air still smells like freesia and vanilla as Shirayuki returns from her shower, scrubbed clean and with the thinnest pajamas she can muster. Even now the heat’s starting to settle on her skin, turning her post-shower dew into regular summer sweat, and oh, she needs to get that fan oscillating stat, before she stews in her own juices like some Shirayuki-flavored pulled pork.

She settles on the bed, flapping out a hand to turn it on and--

Ugh, it’s just...pushing hot air around, at this point. Maybe if she’s sweats through another set of pajamas tonight, she’ll be able to convince Nanna she needs an AC unit in her window.

(Her room-- back when it was her mother’s-- had a unit, but after an unfortunate incident that involved her father, a thwarted clandestine encounter, and a hole in the garage roof, the replacement instead went into the kitchen, where it’s lived every summer until it malfunctioned and froze to the sill. Grandad’s replaced it since, but still-- it’s never returned to her window. Of all the sins of her mother Shirayuki’s had to answer for, this one is hands down the worst.

“Really?” Obi laughs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt. She sees the barest hint of abdominals and suddenly, the orientation packet isn’t half as engaging as it was before. “Not the whole...’grandparents convinced their first great grandchild will pop out before graduation’ thing?”

“To be fair,” she manages, breath thin as the worn fabric drops back over her current distraction. “The point was pretty much moot until, um...”

Oh, that-- that grin is trouble. “Until you climbed on top of me and made me come hard enough to go blind?”

He really, really doesn’t need to say it like-- like that. “S-something like that.”)

She’s ready to just call it a day at this point-- and nearly does. Rolling up onto her side, she reaches for the cord to her lamp--

Buzz. Buzz.

Shirayuki blinks. That’s...that’s her phone.

She’s tempted to ignore it-- she does not need Kihal speculating about what her and Obi could get up to in the woods “all unsupervised” tomorrow, and Obi should still--

9:12, her phone reads. His shift at the club is over, and by now he’s probably--

Home. Texting her.

Shirayuki nearly drops her phone straight down the crack between her bed and nightstand, and oh jeez, it would be nice if she could just...calm down for once. Be cool.

It buzzes again. She yelps, trying to flick the screen on with a wild shake. She can save being cool for another day. One where she’s seen him more than once in two weeks.

hey, the text reads, nestled in its innocuous gray bubble, we should talk

Shirayuki experiences something that could medically be called an event. Is he upset? Has she done something--?

not a bad talk, he clarifies, just miss you

She rolls onto her back with a smile, thumbs poking at the screen to say, i miss you t--

mebbe a sexy talk tho ;3 i *rlly* miss u

is that for the sexy or the bad grammar

Both.

She catches the call on the first ring, barely having time for a breath before Obi drawls, “You weren’t complaining about sexy things two weeks ago.”

With all the dignity of a mathlete champion, Shirayuki replies, “Hnn?”

(”Eek!” She yanks the controller up, to the side, anywhere that might help move her character away from giant beetle on the screen. “How do I--? Where do I--?”

Obi’s chest makes a hollow thunk when she rams into it. He coughs; it takes her a full, frantic second to realize it’s to cover a laugh.

“You know,” he murmurs, plucking the controller out of her hands, “joycons don’t have motion sensors.”

“I don’t know,” she returns primly, folding her legs back down over the edge of the bed. “And also you told me this game was easy.”

“Rune Factory is easy.” His mouth twitches. “Half the game is farming.”

“And the other half is fighting...whatever those things are.” She waves at the screen, scowling at the RETRY? stamped across it. “Which is hard.”

“It’s not,” He leans back, setting the controller on his nightstand. “You could even say...”

His arm hooks around her waist, dragging her on top of him. “...It’s as easy as I am.”

Her breath rasps out of her, and oh god, she can feel his dick pressing up against her thigh, so hard already. “You’re not making me feel very accomplished.”

“Well,” his fingernails scrape up the back of her legs, “we can fix that.”)

“You were very enthusiastic,” he remarks casually, “from what I remember.”

“Mm, well.” Two could play at this game...maybe. “It was two weeks ago.”

She may not be able to see him, but she can feel his grimace through the wire. Or well, the air? Wifi? Shirayuki wasn’t really up on how phones worked past the Edison era. It’s not like they ask how cell phones work on the SATs.

“Sorry,” he sighs, pillow audibly whumping over the receiver. “I know I warned you, but I really thought we’d have had more time to talk.”

“It’s okay.” She squirms against her sheets, fighting a shrug he can’t see. “I...I missed you, but I know how much the hours mean to you.”

“I missed you too.” His voice is so soft, so vulnerable, so unlike the boy who made her miss auditions a year ago. “I’m glad we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“Me too,” she breathes, and oh, it doesn’t seem soon enough. Not when she wants to wrap her arms around him, lay her head on his chest and just listen to him breathe. “You could--”

Come over. Her teeth snap down on the offer. Sure, it’d be nothing for him to hop up to the garage roof, for her to leave the window open--

But that’s how she got here, and nope, no. Not happening.

“--come pick me up tomorrow?” she squeaks out instead, cheeks burning. There’s no way he won’t know she meant something else, that she was avoiding--

“What? Don’t want to be smooshed in the backseat of Big Guy’s swagger wagon?” She can hear the smirk on his lips. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I don’t think Mitsuhide would appreciate you calling his minivan that,” she informs him primly, not a laugh in sight. It’s a feat only achieved by the judicious application of her teeth to her cheeks. “And I was! I mean, I am. It’s just...”

“Big Guy gives priority seating based on height?”

Well, that’s definitely part of it. With all five of them, she’s always left in the back seat, alone, and Obi--

“Gotta say, looking forward to all that leg room,” he drawls, “and getting an airbag all to myself. You think he’ll let me at the aux cable?”

“Never.”

“Aww.” Shirayuki knows he’s pouting; a full-on, little kid lip wibble. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“You know what you did.” A two hour meme mix on the way to Laxdo. “Besides, I just thought it would be better if we, um, had some time to ourselves. Before.”

“Oh?” he hums, so curious, and-- oh, it doesn’t usually take him this long to pick up on when she’s trying to, um, tell him something. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since we’d have all day-- oh.” There it is. “You mean alone.”

“W-well, it’s been two weeks,” she hedges nervously. “And I’m not saying I couldn’t, um, behave--”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up.” The words come out fast, pinched. Maybe she’s being too pushy; Obi likes to tease, but that doesn’t mean he’s always in the mood to-- “I’m definitely not going to be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“O-oh.” Well. That’s hitting different tonight. Maybe because it’s already over ninety, and her temp is climbing with it. Or maybe because she’s only wrapped up in the thinnest, most barely-there clothes she has; the kind he could rip like tissue paper--

Or maybe because it’s been two weeks, and despite going eighteen years without needing any sexual contact, she’s as tragically hard up as a teen comedy protagonist.

“I didn’t know you were...in a bind.” His voice drops to a rumble, and ah, that is not helping the situation. Her thighs slip against each other, trying to dull the ache. “You know I’m always happen to lend a hand when you need it, kid.”

“It not that bad,” she murmurs, but it’s starting to get there the longer he talks. The more she thinks about him showing up tomorrow, just them alone in her house-- “And you didn’t have time to come over.”

“I don’t need to come over.” He’s laughing, but there’s something in it that’s more, that’s almost a purr. “Come on, kid, I gave you those earphones for a reason. Hands free.”

“O-oh.” She’s all too aware of them now, clipped over her ears. Her hand’s only holding the screen out of habit. Hands free.

“I mean, if you’re really hard up,” he hums, “we could do something about it now. Take the edge off.”

She-- she shouldn’t. “Obi! You don’t really mean...?”

“Absolutely. I’d really like to--” his voice cracks,and oh, oh-- “it’s been so long since I made you come, babe.”

(”Well, that’s the last vote for Dreamiest Hair,” Shirayuki sighs, her flyaways dancing at the edge of her vision. “What’s the next category?”

Kihal glances down and grins. “Sexiest Voice.”

She gapes. “Is Mrs Gazalt really going to let us give out an award for that?”

“Mrs Gazalt takes her position of club supervisor very seriously,” Kihal informs her, “and by that I mean, she sits in the corner playing Words with Friends and just lets us do what we want, as long as it isn’t dangerous. Or illegal.”

“Still.” Her mouth pulls tight, a grim line across her face. If the rest of the club could see her now, her Cutest Smile win would be revoked. “That seems, I don’t know...”

“Like it wouldn’t be a contest? I know.” Kihal shrugs. “But that’s what the freshmen picked. I guess they’re just really hoping Obi will growl through his whole acceptance speech.”

“No, I-- wait, Obi?” Her mouth is dry suddenly. She crosses her legs beneath the table. “Why would--? Obi?”

Kihal rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, you’ve heard him over the headset. He’s got that whole like, gravel thing going on. And when he gets heated with someone, like that time with Raj, hoo--” she fans herself-- “I know you have a thing for Zen, but like, I still don’t know how you didn’t jump him.”

Her cheeks burn, painfully. “I-I don’t-- that’s not--”

“Come on, Shirayuki,” she clucks, rolling her eyes. “You have ears. That couldn’t have done nothing for you.”

At the time she’d been so mortified that Raj had not only followed her to the place that was supposed to be her escape, but that he’d brought up what happened, like it didn’t even bother him--

Well, sex had been the last thing on her mind. At least the actual, arousing kind. But now, now--

Listen, I’m sure you have a lot to say but I really can’t-- his voice breaks, and the phantom pressure of his fingers weighs on her lips-- I was supposed to have your back, and I fucked up. I know it doesn’t make up for what happen but I-- his breath rasps from his throat, so raw that hers hurts in sympathy-- I’m sorry.

--she gets it.

“Right, um--” it’s hard to think with her face so hot-- “we should still count the votes anyway.”)

(He wins in a landslide. His acceptance speech at the drama banquet is so suggestive that he ends up with half a dozen panties shoved into his pockets. They tumble out of his jacket when he leans over the console to kiss her, right over the stick shift and onto her lap.

What am I gonna do with a bunch of ladies underwear? he’d murmured against her lips, fingers toying at the strap of her gown, earning her own personal vote. You need any, kid?)

“O-okay.”

“Wha-what?” She winces at the loud bang over the speakers, followed by a softer, more distant “Fuck.”

“Ah, is everything--?”

“Fine,” Obi assures her, sounding like maybe some of his limbs are out of order. “Just...dropped my phone. I didn’t...are you sure?”

Her fingers clench in her sheets. “Yes. I just...don’t really know how to start.”

“Well.” His voice drops playfully low. “Are you in the position?”

“Is the position laying down?” she asks, nervous. “Because I’m laying down.”

He tries to smother it, but she would know his laugh anywhere. “Yeah, great. Good. You’re ready?”

Shirayuki squirms against her pillow, legs rubbing together so hard they should chirp, like some sort of horny cricket. “I guess...”

Obi doesn’t hide his laugh now, just lets it rumble out from his chest in a way that is...not helping. Or maybe it is, considering the whole...situation. “You guess?”

“I just--” am terrified-- “don’t understand.”

He grunts, and by the sound of rustling in her ears, gets comfortable. “What’s holding you up?”

Everything. “It’s better if we just wait isn’t it? I mean to do this, um...”

In person. With someone who knows how to touch her, instead of her fumbling around and showing just how bad at all this sexy stuff she can be.

“This involves sexy talking, doesn’t it?” If distress is a destination, then she’s already laid out a lawn chair and ordered a drink from the cabana. She’s hopeless when her speeches are planned and PG, let alone when she’s trying to improv and it’s about-- about-- “Do I have to talk about penises?”

He makes an ungodly noise. “Kid.”

“I just don’t think I have the experience to talk about them with any sort of authority,” she presses on, brain undaunted by how ridiculous she sounds. “Especially if I’m also supposed to be doing...other things. It’s really--”

“Shirayuki--” he says her name so soft, so fond, and she knows, she knows-- “you should learn how to do it yourself, too.”

--that he’s seen right through her.

“I don’t see why,” she mumbles stubbornly, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. “You’re going to Lyrias too. Your room is in the building next door, and it’s connected to mine! I don’t really think I need to learn how to-- to--” she whines, the words sticking in her throat-- “this!”

“Kid.” He heaves a sigh, and even though she’s dying from the mortification of Being Known, it sends shivers right through her. “Just because you’re subscribed to Sexy Culinary School Weekly with Obi doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to cook on your own.”

“You magazine needs to work on its name.”

“Yeah, let me just go workshop it with Princess Prettymane and Calico Dog.”

“It’s duchess.”

“You know that doesn’t make it better, right?” he deadpans. “Princess Prettymane at least has alliteration. Also,” his voice lilts, playful, “you’re trying to change the subject. Which is cute, and really makes me want to kiss you until you worry that we’re going to ruin another pair of tights, but--”

“I’m not wearing tights right now.”

His jaw snaps shut.

“See,” he manages after a long moment, hoarse, “that is a very distracting thing to say.”

The gravel in his voice scrapes at an itch she didn’t know she had, heat painting a searing line down her spine. She’s already slick from sweat, but this adds another texture to it, one that’s growing more insistent by the second.

“And very confusing.” She doesn’t know what it says that even his complaints are doing it for her. “Since a few seconds ago, you weren’t sure if you could talk sexy, and now you’re telling me all sorts of things.”

“I was just...informing you. Of the situation.” Her nails pluck nervously at her waistband. “It’s summer, so, um, no tights.”

“Oh right,” he breathes, wry, “just setting the scene.”

“You know,” she tries again, too shrill, “I’m really fine with how you do it. I don’t really think-- I mean, is it really necessary that I have to--?”

“Kid, you’re the one that said okay,” he reminds her. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s just better for you if you know what you like. That way if you...”

His breath rasps from his throat. “...You should know what you like, separate from, ah, someone else.”

It’s a nice wrapping job he’s done on this baggage, but even with only a year under her belt, she knows what the tag on this one says. “I’m not going to go to college and suddenly not want you anymore, Obi.”

“I know that,” he says, but he doesn’t, not really. Obi doesn’t really talk much about before, about all the girls he’s snuck into his room or met at a party or whatever, but he thinks that all this, this whole wanting to put Tab A into Slot B thing, is the default. That you meet someone and maybe you talk a little and then bingo-bango-bongo, you know if you want to get on a horizontal surface with them.

He doesn’t get that this, for her, isn’t her normal. If Zen hadn’t been kind to her that first day, if he hadn’t helped Kihal with her Brecker problem, if the rumors surrounding them hadn’t whipped up to a fevered pitch so even she couldn’t ignore them-- well, Shirayuki wouldn’t have even been thinking about romance.

So the fact that she can look at him and feel like she’s walked into the country club’s sauna with her school clothes on-- that different. That’s special. That’s not going to just happen with someone she meets in an 8AM lecture.

If only she were as good with word things as her English grades suggested she should be, she’d be to tell him that.

“This isn’t about...” Obi lets out a disgruntled huff. “Listen, I know I definitely had some inspired ideas about what you would like from...before--”

(She’s still panting as she comes down, tremors zipping up and down her spine, “How did you...?”

Obi smiles, a wide Cheshire Cat grin. Fitting, since she definitely feels like she’s been dragged down the rabbit hole. “How did I what, kid?”

“Know to do that. With my hips,” She smooths her palms over where he’d grabbed them. They ache; it wouldn’t surprise her if she had hand-shaped bruises slapped across them tomorrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d like that.” Obi curls into her side, too pleased. He’s hard against her hip, but-- she likes it. “When I caught you coming off that ladder, you made that little hiccuppy noise, so I figured...pretty sensitive right?”

She stares.

He blinks. “What, did I say something--?”

“Obi” she manages, “that was four months ago.”)

“But if you knew what you liked...” She doesn’t need to see him to know there’s a feral smile stretching across his face. “I could do much better.”

Oh, that sounds...nice. She shifts, and she-- she leaks, thick slick coating the tops of her thighs.

“Besides, if we’re going to bring toys into the equation,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the conversation, “you should know what makes you feel good without any electronic intervention, if you know what I mean.”

Ah, she-- she definitely does.

“Toys?” she squeaks. “I don’t-- I don’t remember any, um, toy talk.”

Obi hums, amused. “Well, I did promise you a good graduation gift.”

“You--you already gave me one!” Her hand skips up to run over the smooth plastic. “I’m using it right now!”

“Mm.” He’s too pleased with himself, like he’s caught her scent on the air from all the way across town. “But you won’t need them much at school. So...”

“I won’t need t-that at school either!” She’s glad she’s got these headphones; her cheeks would be making her phone’s screen go haywire. “I’ll have you, and I’m very, um, happy with your performance. I don’t think we need to add, um, props.”

“As chuffed as I am to have you appreciating my prowess, kid--” oh he’s going to be unlivable after this, she can just tell-- “that’s all the more reason to have something in the wings to mix it up. Especially since we’re waiting t-to--” he stumbles, voice dropping to a murmur-- “I mean, since we both want to, um...”

He’s so tortured trying to talk about it without actually talking about it that she takes pity on him. “Since I’m afraid of penises, but we both like to touch each other.”

“I mean, since we’re waiting to have sex,” he manages, pained. “Or at least, the kind that involves dicks and, ah, going places.”

She’s been around him too long, because without even missing a beat, she claps back, “Oh, I didn’t realize yours was having its own hero journey.”

“It has certainly felt a Call to Adventure,” he mumbles, “and a Woman as a Temptress.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, a Meeting with the Goddess,” he amends, quick enough that she grins. “And once again, you’re trying to distract me. Though I thought it would more like ‘clothes I am missing’ instead of ‘Campell’s seventeen stages thesis.’“

“I’m sticking to what I know,” she tells him primly. “But I suppose I could tell you that, um, I’m not wearing a bra?”

He grunts, gutted. “Ohh, you are really just trying to make this difficult.” He adds, a little waspish, “All this trouble better be working for you, because it’s definitely working for me.”

“Oh, are you--” she swallows, hoping he can’t hear it-- “did you really want to try that?”

“Ah, I mean...” His breath comes sharp, short. “Yeah. If you would like to.”

Her breath catches. “I haven’t really, um...”

Done this. Ever. It would be so easy to say it, but it’s just-- belaboring the point. He knows. He just...thinks she’s a much better student than she is. At least about things like this.

“Listen, I haven’t...” He hesitates, and she realizes-- he’s embarrassed. “This isn’t something I’ve done with anyone before. You know I’m not really anyone’s...long term option.”

Grandad always says that she shoots from the cuff-- a nice way of saying doesn’t think before talking-- but she doesn’t regret it, not one bit, when she blurts out, “You’re mine.”

Obi’s breath rasps into the speaker. “Y-yeah. I know.” With a swallow, he adds, “And I know you think I have a lot of experience, but there’s a lot out there to try, and I haven’t even brushed the surface of it, you know? And I just thought, knowing you, knowing how curious you are...”

She blinks. “You mean...you’ve never been with someone long enough to, um, explore?”

“Ah, plenty of people would pick up Sexy Culinary Weekly up off the rack, but um--” he huffs out a laugh, soft and self-deprecating-- “you’d be the first to pick up a subscription.”

Shirayuki doesn’t like to pry, but for a good long moment, she considers asking for a list with some names. Just to talk, of course.

She takes a deep breath instead, trying to focus. “So you want to-- to explore with me?”

“If you want to,” he’s quick to say. “I know all of this is...new. I just thought since we won’t be doing a, ah, traditional progression here--”

“Traditional?”

He sighs. “You know, the uh, porn formula. Fingering, hand job, blow job, eating--”

“OKAY,” she yelps, clapping a hand to her face. “I get it!”

“Right, well, there’s a lot between what we’re doing and PIV.” She nearly giggles at how he says it, piv, like it’s a word and not an acronym. It's almost...cute. Like an adorable monster she could get a plushie of, instead of something that involved penises and could make her pregnant.

“And since we’re not doing any of that soon,” he continues, “we could, ah...take the scenic route. And maybe that would be a little less intimidating for you, since we’d both be new at...whatever we’re doing, instead of feeling like you had to catch up.”

Her heart flutters, and the warmth in her gut spreads up to her chest. “I think you’re mixing metaphors.”

“Sorry, I can’t think of cooking puns for everything,” he deadpans. “Think of it as not having to rush to read back issues, I guess.”

She hums. “I think you’re asking me to help with recipe development.”

“Well, if we’re going to embark on culinary adventures together--” he presses, voice bubbling like he’s trying to keep down a laugh. Several, if she’s anything to go by-- “then you should be comfortable with what your body likes before we add any...additional ingredients. You have to learn to do it the right way before we do it the easy way.”

“Oh,” she breathes. Obi was definitely starting to have a point about doing all this now. “Like New Math.”

“Wow, kid,” he deadpans, “really getting right down to the dirty talk.”

She flushes. Good thing he can’t see her. “I-I thought that was your job.”

He laughs, a rumble she feels right down to her bones. “You’re right. What are you wearing?”

She coughs. “Really?”

“I’m trying to set the scene,” he informs her, far too innocent. “This is a delicate shared fantasy we’re making. Wouldn’t want you to get thrown out of it because I mention panties and you’re wearing boyshorts.”

“I’m not wearing underwear,” she blurts out. “Wearing it overnight increasing the chance of yeast infections.”

Ah, there it is: the regret. It would be nice if she could just...not be like this. If she could just think through what she says when she’s nervous, instead of talking about diseased vaginas with her boyfriend while he’s trying to...make love at her, or whatever.

Now she has to contend with this endless silence, wishing that her mortification would at least dampen her desire even a little. Heaven knows they wouldn’t doing any recipe development tonight, after that. “O-obi?”

“Sorry, I just--” his throat makes a hollow thunk that echoes over the line-- “I got distracted.”

She blinks. “By what?”

“Thinking about how much I want to be there,” he admits, “and what I’d do to you if I was.”

“O-oh.” Maybe some culinary adventure wasn’t...so off the table as she thought. “A-and what would that be?”

A strangled groan tears between them. “I want to eat you out so bad.”

That-- that was not what she’d thought he’d say. “Really?”

“Yeah.” His sigh is strained. “You make such good noises.”

“You like it?” Her thighs clench, and oh, she wishes she knew what to do about it. “I figured it would taste...weird.”

Not that she’s ever tried. But she’s tasted blood (too coppery, bad texture), and well, boogers (too salty; thanks, childhood), and she can’t imagine that can taste much better.

“No,” he hums. “You taste just right. Are you touching yourself yet?”

There’s no way to explain she’s just been rating bodily fluids on a scale of most to least appetizing, so she settles with, “N-no.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, now that he’s reminded her that her body isn’t just some inconvenient appendage for her brain, Shirayuki can’t forget that it’s there. And she certainly can’t ignore the heat between her legs, or the way her skin feels as sensitive as flash paper, ready to burn up at a moment’s notice.

“You should do that,” he tells her, just short of a command, and ah, yeah, that’s sounding like a better and better idea every second. “What are you wearing?”

She’s out of cutesy stalling tactics. Or at least, she can’t think of any, not when her vagina seems to have a pulse of its own. “A tank top. And pajama shorts.”

“Sounds cute,” he breathes. “Put your hand down them.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Pubic hair crinkles under the tips of her fingers, scratchy against her palm. It’s wet too, tangling when she tries to slide further down so she just..doesn’t. “What now?”

“What do you usually do?”

He’s panting just the barest bit, and the sound of him already so undone is what spurs her to admit, “I, um, usually don’t do anything.”

“But you’ve tried before.” She should have never told him that. “What did you do then?”

“I, um--” she licks her lips, nervous-- “put my fingers inside?”

“Right away?” He laughs, and it’s fond, gentle. “No wonder you’ve never gotten much of anywhere. How about you just cup yourself now.”

She does. Little hairs wrap themselves around her fingers, coming loose, and oh, those always refuse to wash off later, clinging to her with the same tenacity as glitter. It’s comforting to feel weight there, at least, even if it clearly isn’t Obi’s. Still, it’s...vaguely unpleasant.

“I don’t feel much,” she reports, trying not to let her frustration leak through. Maybe she just isn’t cut out for masturbation.

“You wouldn’t,” he confirms, “you need to part your lips first.”

She nearly does, until she thinks better of it. “What does that have to do with--?”

“Not your mouth.” He’s barely covering a laugh. “Your other lips.”

“O-oh.” Of course. That makes...more sense.

Her fingers splay, parting her flesh, and ahh, there is...a lot more of her than she remembers. She’s read about lips blooming like flowers before-- mostly in the books Nanna likes to read-- but nothing had ever...blossomed down there for her before. But it’s definitely all petals and sepals now, if things like that were made out of flesh. She saw something like that once, on one of those Syfy shows her grans liked to watch when she was a kid--

She jolts as something slaps her hard, right on the breast, and oh, she’s-- she’s forgotten she’s still holding the phone. Or at least, she was. Now her hand is boneless, empty, and her screen has belly-flopped right onto her boob.

“Oh, um, wait.” She fumbles with it, one-handed, trying to find some place to put it. “I need to--I need to put down my phone.”

He hums, bemused. “Two hands would help.”

Shirayuki’s definitely struggling with one, that’s for sure. Her bedside table is too far for her headphones to reach without tugging; the bed itself is just asking for her to squirm her way to an End Call. She’s stuck discovering all this with one hand plastered in between her thighs, dipping between her vulva in a way that can only be termed distracting.

By the time she settles it on her pillow, far enough away to avoid any mishap via cheek smooshing, she’s practically panting. Maybe she needs to take up a sport at Lyrias; Mathletes clearly isn’t cutting it.

“Okay,” she sighs, dropping back onto her bed. “Now I’m ready. I am parting my...myself. What’s next?”

“Are you wet?”

Well, if she wasn’t before, she certainly is now. “I, um, think so?”

“All right.” His bed groans, like he’s shifting on it, and oh, how she wishes she knew what he looked like now. “Just start sliding your fingers around. You know where your clit is, right?”

“Yes,” she manages, squirming as she rubs at her folds. “I’ve seen a diagram before.”

He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that sends a shiver down her spine, and yeah, she can take a real good guess at where her clit might be. “Don’t touch it.”

Her fingers still. “Why not?”

“You’re sensitive,” he tells her, so casual. “You get squirmy when I touch it directly. I mean, feel free to try...maybe you’re a lighter touch than I am. You could like it.”

She’s about to balk-- if it doesn’t feel good when he does it, she’s not going to do any better-- when his voice drops and he adds, “Tell me if you do.”

Well, let it not be said that Shirayuki doesn’t believe in science. Which is the reason she’s doing this. Hypothesis testing. Not because her boyfriend asked in a ridiculously sexy way.

With a steeling breath, she swipes her clit with the pad of her finger and-- y i k e s.

She grits her teeth, nerves still jangling. “Um, yeah, that didn’t feel great.”

“Too bad.”

With a sigh, she stretches her neck, hoping to get that raised-hackles feel out of it and-- oh.

Rum Tum stares down at her with his glassy black eyes, mouth stitched into its permanent smile. That’s really...not helping.

“Um.” Duchess Prettymane is next to him, head tilted in question. Calico Dog is definitely just...judging her. “Give me one second.”

With her free hand, she turns each of her stuffies around, placing them in a line on her window sill. They don’t need to see any of this.

“Okay.” She settles back into her pillows. “So I definitely don’t touch that. I just...touch around it?”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, amused. “But no rubbing! Long strokes, just barely brushing it, both fingers, one on either side.” She can hear his grin when he adds, “You like to be teased.”

She wants to protest that; she nearly does, but--

Her fingers skid over her folds, tracing just around the lip of her slit, stopping just shy of her clit, and-- mm, all right, he, ah, definitely has a point. This feels much better.

Still, she’s so used to Obi’s touch; he lingers in all the right places, calluses catching on her clit in a way that makes her writhe. Her own fingers are too tiny and her movements too awkward. She’s too wet too; as much as it’s definitely helping with the, um, sensations she’s feeling, controlling her fingers makes her feel like a contestants on one of those Japanese game shows. Just when she thinks she’s gotten it, when she’s starting to build to something interesting if not good--

“How is it?”

She nearly nicks herself with a nail. “Better when you do it.”

“Ah, I see,” he hums. “A pillow princess--”

Shirayuki has absolutely no idea what that means, but she knows she’s being teased. “No--!”

A thunk stops her mid-thought. Her hand snaps away from her shorts. “Did you hear that?”

“Kid--”

She eyes the door warily. “Do you think it’s Nanna?”

Obi smothers a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure that was just your phone.”

“No, I put it behind my--” she looks down, and oh yes, there it is, right on the floor.

“Oh,” she breathes, mortified. “Oh. Right. Just, um, give me a minute.”

It’s a tricky proposition trying to fish it off the floor. For one, her bed is high and her arms are short-- oh, she was so committed to the whole fairy bower aesthetic of lofting her bed when she was twelve, but now it’s really inconvenient-- and for another, one hand is contaminated with, um, juices, and though she doesn’t want to smear any of that all over her phone--

Well, wiping it on the sheets is a bad decision. Nanna’s nose is sharp, and if there’s one conversation she doesn’t want to happen, it’s why does you bed smell like sex, Shirayuki? She’s done well not getting grounded so far, despite the number of times Obi’s been caught shirtless in her room, but she knows better than to try to test her grandmother’s patience on it.

Shirayuki drops to her belly, elbow digging into the mattress to ground her. Her finger are just long enough to brush the screen--

“Hey kid,” Obi sighs, “do you actually want to do this?”

She yelps. Only a quickly placed hand keeps her from meeting her carpet face first. She does have her phone though. “What?”

“I thought that this was going to be fun and sexy, but now...” He grunts, uneasy. “It seems like I might forcing you, and that’s really not what I wanted to happen. If you don’t want--”

“NO! I mean,” she manages, throwing herself back on her bed, “you have a point. Even though I prefer you touching me by lot--”

Obi hums, too smug.

“--we can’t always make the time to, um, do that.” It’s be nice if the bed could just swallow her whole right now, put her out of her misery, but-- she wants this. She wants him, and part of that is having terrible conversations that make her feel like a five alarm fire in a fireworks factory. “And if we’re having trouble just a few houses away, I’m sure we’ll find a way to have it when you’re only a few doors down too. Which is fine, it’s not like I have to, um...”

He makes a noise, intrigued, and oh, she really hates how badly she does want to keep this boyfriend. If only she liked him less, then she wouldn’t have to talk about any of this at all.

“I just mean, sometimes I think about you when we can’t be together--”

“Sometimes?”

“You know what I mean,” she snips, annoyed. “Sometimes I think about you in a specific way and I get a little, um, stuck. And that can be frustrating. So it’s probably better that I learn this now, than--

“Wait.” He’s breathless, unfocused. “Are you telling me you’ve been all...stuck lately?”

“N-no!” That is really not what she wants to be talking about right now. “I mean, a-a little? Kind of.”

She can hear the rush of his breath through his nose, his long thoughtful pause--

“Do you need some inspiration?” He’s eager, voice tight and nearly winded. “Purely above the waist, of course.”

It occurs to her that he means pictures; pictures of the adult variety. The yes leaps to her lips, but oh, what if Nanna saw it, and--

“Here, one sec.”

He’s not joking; barely a second later her phone buzzes, snapchat informing her that Obi has a new photo. She frowns, flicking open the app, and -- oh. Yes. That was. Definitely not there a few moments ago.

He’s naked from the waist up, lounging in a pair of gym shorts, his legs spread wide where he sits, and-- “Are you, um...?”

“Hot?” he growls playfully. “For you, yeah.”

“Hard,” she blurts out, since she never misses an opportunity to make a fool of herself. It would be nice if her curiosity could take a vacation for a day or two. Give her skin a break.

“Oh. Um. Yeah,” he grunts. “I mean, I’m trying to get you off, and I’m think about touching you. Sort of...a natural response.”

“But you aren’t touching yourself?”

“We hadn’t really talked about that,” he murmurs shyly. “This is supposed to be about you. I didn’t want to get distracted.”

“Ah...” That place between her legs throbs. She snakes a hand under her waistband, and oh, they’ve barely lost any ground at all. “You should.”

“W-what?”

“Touch yourself,” she tells him, running her fingers over her folds. “I think it would help.”

“Oh.” She might as well have hit him for the way that bursts out of him. “I didn’t--”

“I can give you inspiration too.” She whips off her tank before she can think better of it, struggling when she realizes, no, one hand will definitely not be enough to get the job done--

And then it’s nothing to take a picture, or to send it. A few taps and he’s choking, “Did-- did you mean to send this to me?”

It’s then that it strikes her: she just sent a naked picture to her boyfriend. Well, a half naked picture, but for what he could see she might as well have done the whole thing.

“Oh, is that-- is that okay?” She drags her safe hand over her face, sweat clinging to her palm. “I should have checked--”

“Yes!” he pants, half wild. “Yes, this is okay, Very, very okay. I just...you really want me to use this? For, uh, jacking off?”

“Could you?”

“Haah,” he breathes. “Yes. God, your breasts are so good, babe. And your face...”

“Then yes.” She licks her lips, nervous. “Please.”

“I don’t really need the help,” he warns, “I’m a real pro at this.”

“I want you to.” She doesn’t know how she says it without even a stutter. The thought of him touching himself like that, knowing that he’s thinking of her, just her-- “I want you to touch your-- you--”

“Really, kid, you don’t have to--”

“Cock.”

Just saying it shakes her up like a soda can, ready to burst, and she almost wishes she could take it back, that she could unsay half this conversation-- until he groans; the frantic slide of clothes loud from his end of the phone.

“What do you-- what should I--?”

He sounds so lost, his words hardly above a whine, and that’s the only reason she’s able to say, “I want you to, um, stroke it?”

“Yeah, I am-- I am already there, babe,” he assures her, voice throaty and strained. “You’re touching yourself too, right? You’re wet?”

“Y-yeah.” She slides her hand under the band, and ah, she hadn’t know it was possible to be wetter, that her thighs could be slick nearly to the edge of her shorts, but here she is. “I like hearing you. I-I mean...after graduation, when we went to the field, I--” she licks her lips, mouth so dry-- “I really wanted to hear you come again.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” His mattress creaks, distressed. “That was-- that was two months ago. You could have just--” he hisses, so sensitive-- “god, I would have come for you anytime.”

“Could you?” It comes out coyer than she expects, far too confident to sound like her, and she nearly apologizes, until he-- he--

He whimpers.

“If I asked really nice,” she hums, fingers skating along her folds, clit pulsing with how much she wants this, wants him. “Could you come for me again?”

He groans, pained. “Y-yeah. I could definitely arrange something.”

“Now?”

“Shit. Fuck.” He moans, but it trails off into a laugh. “Definitely won’t take long if you keep this up.”

“Good,” she sighs, pace quickening, her fingers daring to loop ever closer to the crux of her problem. “I want to hear you. It’s been so long...”

She hesitates. Obi is always the one to tease, and her the one that squirms away, the one that needs to be cajoled back into the scene, but now--

Well, the shoe is on the other foot isn’t it. “It’s been so long,” she says again, only this time she lets her voice go breathy, lets it linger on the cusp of whine. “Don’t make me wait, Obi...”

He doesn’t.

“Fuck,” is the only word he manages before he’s groaning, whimpering, making every sexy sound he can at once as he comes hard.

“Haah,” he moans, breath heaving. “That was-- that was definitely not how I expected this call to go.”

Shirayuki stills her fingers, mouth slanting into a smirk. She’d always wondered how Obi could watch her orgasm and not want to do it himself, not need to do it when she’s dying every time, but-- now she gets it. She may not have come, but there’s something supremely satisfying in watching-- no, listening to him fall apart instead.

“Oh?” She still sounds coy. Like Obi does every time she goes half-blind from the force of her own climax.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He’s put out, and she can tell his eyebrows are drawn, that his jaw is set. “I could--”

“No, no, don’t worry about me,” she assures him. “I’m fine. Besides, we have to get up tomorrow.”

“Ah, fuck, right. Senior Day.” He sighs. “All right, fine. But next time--”

“Next time,” she agrees. “Though I really enjoyed this time too.”

He makes a noise that sounds like dying. “Yeah, well, that’s great, but I’m not the one who needs to learn how to get off like a champ. But whatever,” he sighs, “we have all the time in the world for you to get it.”

Her chest warms, and she smiles against her pillow. “Right. I’ll see you tomorrow? Bright an early?”

He groans. “Yeah, yeah. Bright and early. Good night, kid.”

#obiyukiweek20 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #lemon #my fic #rarely pure and never simple #listen this originally was supposed to run parallel to zen and kihal's B-side #BUT HERE WE ARE #this little opener turning into a whole fic in itself #but i promise #NEXT TIME IS SENIOR DAY

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traditional-with-a-twist · 3 years

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Day 6: Courtesy

“My mother taught me to be polite to dragons.”

reference: Talking to Dragons cover art by the incomparable Trina Schart Hyman

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kitsunefire7 · 4 years

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A Romantic ride~ ❤️

Also a big ty to the fans/fam in discord for helping me identify the flower Obi was holding in the manga and it’s meaning >;3 hehe So enjoy some ambition and fecundity 🤣

Mini story: Obi is enjoying a ride in the forest and notices Shirayuki as she’s collecting flowers, looks like she’s got a lot in her mind. As Obi is talking to her, she hands him a flower- cause you know, it’s a high honor for a knight to accept a maidens gift. And as he’s helping her up on the saddle, yuki meantions the flowers meaning and as that message slowly dawns on Obi’s face she tugs him back for a kiss. 💋 and they gonna have a “heart to heart” talk afterward lol.

#obiyukiweek20 #Obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime fanart #shirayuki #ans #manga #romance #kiss #knight #maiden #horse #obishira #anime #my ship #shirayukixobi #obi and shirayuki #shirayuki and obi #obi shirayuki

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onedivinemisfit · 4 years

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Obiyukiweek 2020 Day 4 - Free Day

Да, были дни, мой друг Как бесконечный круг Мы бесконечно будем петь и танцевать Как выбрали мы будем жить В бою нельзя нас победить Мы были молоды и нас не удержать

Those were the days, my friend We thought they'd never end We'd sing and dance forever and a day We'd live the life we choose We'd fight and never lose For we were young and sure to have our way

It’s one of my favourite songs :3 (apologies for any typos) Scenery is from Priscilla’s performance in the Witcher 3~ Bard!yuki mesmerizing a local Lord!obi? Or maybe... is it nostalgia?

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Art: Me

#obiyukiweek20 #То были дни #akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #obi #shirayuki #myart #no AU idea just playing with a scene this time #mainly bc I love the witcher so much #and melancholy russian music #dorogoi dlinnoyu #those were the days #again apologies for any typos #I did my best to find a good russian translation

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snowwhite-andtheknight · 4 years

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And that wraps up Obiyukiweek 2020! Despite this year’s notorious reputation for disaster, this ended up being our best Obiyukiweek ever, with 76 works total as of posting: 43 fics, 24 art pieces, 8 edits, and 1 meta post! Thank you everyone who participated, and also a big thanks to the creators who didn’t give up and managed to post during the bonus week! We literally could not do this without all of you.

Although this ship week has come to an end, stay tuned! Tonight we will be teasing our brand-new winter challenge, and we’ll need your help to set it up!

Works By Day

[Works by Creator under the cut]

@bubblesthemonsterartist

I Should’ve Met You Yesterday, Chapter 8

I Should’ve Met You Yesterday, Chapter 9

Neither the Wolf Nor the Mountain, Chapter 9

Noble Lines, Chapter 8

Seraglio (9.24.2020)

Stumptown, Chapter 7

The Things I Couldn’t Say: Seiran Estates, Chapter 4

@claudeng80

An Earthly Knight, Chapter 4: Quest

Information Gathering in the Diagnostic Process

Plumage, Part 2: Down Feather

Plumage, Chapter 3: Contour Feather

Plumage, Chapter 4: Flight Feather

The Prince, the Aide, and the Fire-Haired Maiden

Succession

@fade-touched-obsidian

Wherever you wish to go, I will carry you

@glitterberry

Aren’t you suspicious of me?

Courtesy

Fair Play

Nobility

Only if you want me to

Please, Take My Hand

Wherever I am, wherever I end up going

@kaedix

In love with the monster (under my bed)

@kamuiins

I could ever be hurt any more than this

@kitsunefire7

Do your best, Little Ryuu!

Go easy on my heart

Ladyhawke

Maleficent

A Romantic ride~

This Witch Is Mine

With you?

@mrs_ncl

Silver Lining, Chapter 1

Silver Lining, Chapter 2

Silver Lining, Chapter 3

Silver Lining, Chapter 4

Silver Lining, Chapter 5

Silver Lining, Chapter 6

Silver Lining, Chapter 7

@obiyuki-beebs

panel counting

@onedivinemisfit

Don’t peek [NSFW]

Fly on the Wings of Love~~

For we were young and sure to have our way

A Night to Remember

Trust is the truest form of loyalty

Vette

What If we stopped playing by Zen’s rules?

@ruleofexception

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 1: You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 2: Yet, while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 3: I promise to you that it will be your eyes into which I smile every morning

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 4: I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 5: I delight in the love of you; my friend, my equal, my love

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 6: I promise to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care

Sword & Bauble, Chapter 7: With all that I am and all that I ever will be, I love you

@sabraeal

All That Remains, Chapter 6

Desert & Reward, Chapter 9

Family Duty Honor, Part 3 [NSFW]

Get Up Eight, Chapter 6

The Lone Wolf Survives, Chapter 2

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 7 [NSFW]

Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 2

@sctwilightvampwolfgal

A Little More Than Loyalty

A Little Restraint

My Vow (For You)

Only A Few

Sweeter Than a Dream Could Possibly Be

What Towers, Falls

Within The Ordinary

@traditional-with-a-twist

No matter how many times I’m reborn in this vast universe

You don’t know if it’s a lie. What if it’s true?

@vai-vain

Courtesy

Fair Play

Honor

Loyalty

Nobility

Valor

You promise me to live on

#obiyukiweek20 #obiyuki #Obi x Shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #round up #masterpost

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claudeng80 · 4 years

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Down Feather (Plumage 2)

Obi can only say no to Shirayuki for so long. He can be evasive, but her stubbornness is something that even the strongest knight is unable to resist. Yuzuri just wishes she would pick her battles better. She should be pursuing the man with the promise of kisses, not cleaning products.

So it’s inevitable, the day when he shows up smelling different. Not that Yuzuri makes a habit of sniffing him, her nose is far more interested in certain other people in the pharmacy, but Obi’s definitely smelling a little smoother, less earthy, more- herbal. And his feathers are looking very good, not only because his ragged season seems to have passed but now they’re shinier than ever. “You’ve been using Shirayuki’s soap!”

Obi’s hand hovers in front of her mouth, as if to somehow mitigate her volume. Yuzuri is unmoved. Shirayuki put weeks of effort into that formulation and Yuzuri was there for every supply run, every frustrated rant, and every batch she deemed insufficiently compatible with Obi’s natural chemistry.

Yuzuri has a couple of pointed comments on chemistry she keeps to herself, but at the very least he had better appreciate the soap. “Listen, I was just looking for Ryuu,” he says, long-suffering. “Please tell me you’ve seen him.” His eye catches something over Yuzuri’s shoulder and tracks its motion across the room; without even turning her head she’d wager she knows exactly where to find Shirayuki.

“He’s waiting for you by the front door.” She lets that sink in. If he’d only taken the normal route for once, he wouldn’t be in this situation. His eyes flicker to the side once more, as if against his will, and maybe it’s a choice he makes for other reasons. Well, hopefully the cost of grumpy Ryuu all through lunch is worth it. He grunts and slips out of the room in that silent way of his.

Shirayuki’s just where Yuzuri expected to find her, eyes fixed on the door Obi just left through. The look on her face isn’t longing, though, she doesn’t have the self-awareness for that, it’s almost furtive. She’s hiding something.

Yuzuri can’t keep her wings tucked up tight, she’s so excited as she flits across the room. Shirayuki opens her eyes wide as Yuzuri approaches, but she’s far too honest to feign innocence that way. Innocence is her normal look. This is just suspicious. All Yuzuri has to do is wait.

When Shirayuki sighs, Yuzuri knows she’s won. “I need you to keep a secret,” she starts, and Yuzuri doesn’t even wait for the sentence to end before agreeing. Whatever this is, she wants in.

“I found a feather,” Shirayuki goes on, voice hushed and hand hovering near her pocket.

Honestly that’s no surprise, feathers are everywhere in here. They clean constantly, and still Yuzuri could pick up ten without moving three steps from where she’s standing. “What kind?”

“I don’t know, that’s the question,” she says, and that right there explains it. The girl cannot walk away from a mystery. It’s a wonder she hasn’t wrung Obi dry of secrets yet. “It’s blue.”

Yuzuri spreads a wing. “Not one of mine?” She’s the only blue-feathered employee in the pharmacy. Shirayuki’s reddish, Ryuu speckled, Suzu cream-colored. All the others are various shades of gold and brown. Shirayuki, at last, reaches into her pocket and pulls out the mystery feather. It’s barely mature, an odd size to see loose, and it’s a solid iridescent blue.

“The shade’s not too far off,” Shirayuki says, although it’s definitely different, “but it’s not barred.” All of Yuzuri’s have black and white markings - it makes for a striking display all together, but it’s true that none of hers are monochromatic. “Do you know if any of the guards are blue? Maybe one of the patients?”

“How long ago?” Yuzuri doesn’t tend to pay a lot of attention to the patients, but she would have noticed someone with blue plumage. They’re rare enough around here.

“About a month.” Together they frown down at the single feather.

“You should check with Ryuu or Obi.” Ryuu’s admitted to having had a serious interest in feather types in his younger days - Yuzuri can only guess he was about five years old at the time - and Obi seems to have traveled a lot. But Shirayuki tucks the feather into her fist, shaking her head.

“It’s silly,” she says.

“It only is if you treat it that way. If it matters to you, you should use your resources.”

Shirayuki hums, but it’s doubtful. “We should get back to work,” she says, and Yuzuri lets it drop for now. But she does see Shirayuki brush the feather across her nose just once before she buries it back away in her pocket.

Sunrise in Lilias comes late, arriving only after hours of slow dawn in the shadow of the mountains. Most days it’s a footnote for Shirayuki, realized only by the sudden need for fewer lamps in the reading room.

It’s a luxury to experience the process on her day off, watching the sun light up the mountain side rock by rock, then burst over the edge of the cliffs all at once. Shirayuki lies on the garden bench, stone cool against her cheek, and lets her wings cover her like a blanket. The early sun rays warm her feathers, and she luxuriates in the contrast.

“So lazy, miss.” She opens her eyes just in time to watch Obi alight beside her. His wingbeats are nearly silent, the tap of his boots against the garden walkway barely any louder. “I thought for sure on your day off you’d be right back in the gardens anyway.”

“After lunch,” she answers. “I’ve got plans with Yuzuri. Until then I’m resting.”

“And yet you’re up, dressed, and outside before sunrise.” He waves a hand, fingers curling at the garden around. It’s just a little green space outside her building, not a pinfeather on the Lilias greenhouses and ridiculously icy and treacherous in the winter, but it’s a nice enough place in the warmer months.

She pushes herself up to a seat, scooting to one side of the bench. “And yet here you are too.”

For a second she doesn’t think he’ll take the invitation, but he hops up to crouch on the seat, leaning forward over his knees with his wings thrown back. It puts her far too close to his thighs.

“What are you doing this morning?” There’s a ladybug. She watches it explore the bottom of a leaf, then lift its wings and buzz off.

Obi hums. “I think that’s up to you, my lady.”

Obi’s easy to talk to, so long as the conversation doesn’t turn around to anything touching on his past. So she tries to stay away from questions, no matter how curious she gets. It’s just that it’s such a mystery how he can talk comfortably to anyone from sailors to the king, how so little ever seems to surprise him. She’d love to ask about where he’s been, the things he’s seen. Maybe even get his help with her mystery blue feather - it’s starting to look ragged, but she still keeps it in her pocket. She doesn’t even know why anymore.

“Hope you’re up for a lot of sitting around.”

“Aw, miss. Come fly with me instead? We could go to the lake.”

“What’s at the lake?”

“I don’t know. Water? Fish? Plants? Why don’t we go find out?”

He’s got her there, and he knows it. He coils and leaps, straight up into the air in the way only someone in his shape can. She stands and stretches, much slower, as he circles impatiently overhead. Maybe she really just can’t resist an unsolved mystery. Good thing she can keep him close until she figures it all out.

Obi’s plumage suits him, most of the year. When he sneaks around and plays tricks, people can look at him and dismiss it all. “Corvids are just like that,” they say. They wouldn’t trust a crow-kind or a perfectly normal blackbird with tasks of importance, expect anything more than brief competence and a bad joke at their expense. With the exception of Zen and Shirayuki, the deception has served him for years.

He knows better than to give it up, not when he has such a good thing going. He has friends, he has responsibilities (as much as he can handle), and he even has a modicum of respect. He’s not going to risk all of that due to one tiny detail.

These thoughts are too deep for such a sunny summer afternoon, he decides as he lights on the pharmacy upper windowsill. It’s his favorite way in, an easy step off the delicate mountain updrafts and high enough that his shadow doesn’t usually give away his secrets to the atrium below. Leaving fingerprints on the high glass drives Suzu nuts, too, for an added bonus.

Down below is one of his favorite sights, and he settles back on his heels in the window to admire while nobody will notice. Ryuu and Shirayuki perch hip-to-hip and wing-to-wing in the same chair, bent over a book. He can’t see the subject, but when Shirayuki breaks the silence he hears her voice loud and clear. “Ryuu, do you remember if we’ve had any patients here with blue feathers, maybe back in the spring? I found a feather and I’m curious where it came from.”

It takes too long for Ryuu to answer. Even Obi can tell that. “No, no blue patients. Not this spring.”

It’s a good thing Obi hasn’t been there in their professional capacity since last summer. He should make a noise, drop from his perch, something, but he finds he can’t. Ryuu doesn’t lie, so perhaps if she asks the right question-

But what does he think it would change? It meant attention when he was younger, before he realized that it wasn’t worth it. Nobody wanted more from him than a show, and yet how many times did he get labeled a troublemaker and told to move on just for attracting the wrong kind of attention?

It pains him how much he’d like to stop lying to her. But he’s not as brave as his mistress is, not the type to wear uniqueness as a proud banner. He’s learned the cost of turning heads, and there’s more than just himself to think about now. He won’t do that to her or to Master. Down below, Ryuu’s a knot of discomfort so tight his wingtips are quivering. Shirayuki diverts him, pointing at a passage in the book, and the topic of blue feathers is over.

Safe, Obi swings open the glass and lets the hinges squeak, just to see two faces turned up to welcome him home.

#obiyukiweek20 #fair play #in which obi has feathers #fanfic #obiyuki

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