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realtacuardach · 2 years

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The Truth about Love

Entry for Obiyuki Week 22, True Love's Kiss/Snow White (Day 4) @snowwhite-andtheknight

~~~

The group stepped out of the theater and into the brisk fall evening, drawing coats and scarves tight against the chill as they made their way down the street.

"That...was...awesome!" Yuzuri enthused, bouncing slightly ahead of the group, her characteristic earmuffs bobbing along with her movements. "I've never been so close to the stage before!"

Suzu nodded, sending his own hat to the ground. "Helps to know people in high places."

Turning to face the other members of their group, Yuzuri beamed cheekily. "Yeah, Yuki," she chirped at her friend, whose flushed cheeks were rapidly approaching the same hue as her hair, "I can't believe you know Zen Wisteria!"

Shirayuki ducked her head sheepishly, playing with the tassels on her scarf. Obi, walking beside her as usual, hooked an arm around her shoulders and leaned towards Yuzuri. "She dated Zen Wisteria."

Shirayuki groaned a little while Ryuu, on her other side, observed with a sleepy bemusement. Yuzuri snorted. "Only you, Obi, could boast about other men your girlfriend used to date."

"She attracts quality," Obi declared proudly, "because she is quality."

Yuzuri laughed. "High praise for yourself too, huh?"

Obi shrugged. "There are always exceptions." Shirayuki dug into his ribs with a well-placed elbow, and Obi grunted in surprise. "Ow!"

"You be nice to yourself," Shirayuki scolded, "or there's more where that came from."

Leaning in towards her, he smirked. "That a promise?"

Yuzuri snorted, Ryuu rolled his eyes, and Suzu looked impressed. Shirayuki slapped a hand over her face, but couldn't quite cover the ends of her twitching smile.

They walked through the streets to a nearby park. Despite the late hour, delicious smells from various food trucks wafted towards them as they approached.

"I wonder if they have any candied apples," Yuzuri mused out loud.

Suzu stared at her in shock. "You want to eat that after what we just watched?"

"The apple's not going to be poisoned," Yuzuri rolled her eyes. "The only poisoning around her is food poisoning."

Obi nodded sagely down at Ryuu. "And that's why we aren't going to La Casa de Muerte tonight."

"It's Casa Maria, Obi," Shirayuki laughed.

"Not if you eat their tacos."

Yuzuri laughed. "Aw, come on, Obi, I thought you liked danger."

"I like stabby, kicking, sneaking danger," Obi countered, "not puking-your-guts-out danger."

Suzu (who had joined him in eating the ill-fated tacos), Shirayuki (who had nursed a very queasy, very stubborn Obi), and Ryuu (who had used nearly all his herbs that reduced nausea in one night) all nodded in agreement.

"Let's get ice cream," Ryuu decided quietly, knowing the banter could conceivably go on forever, and his stomach rumbled in agreement.

As the group crowded around the ice cream cart, peering at the menu, Suzu hummed a tune from the show.

"Chocolate cherry, please," Yuzuri said to the vendor, passing over her money before turning to grin at Suzu. "Liked the music, did you?"

"It was very good music!" Suzu defended. "I especially liked the song the prince and Snow White sang. All you need," he sang somewhat tunelessly, "is true love's kiss..."

Ryuu took the opportunity to sneak in front of Suzu while he sang and ordered a vanilla cone.

"With sprinkles!" Obi called behind him, grinning. "Live a little!"

Ryuu ducked his head, but his lips turned up at the corners as he nodded to the ice cream vendor.

Suzu managed to cut off her musical musings long enough to order, leaving Shirayuki staring at the menu. "You go ahead," she waved to Obi, eyes focused on the flavors.

"Cake batter," he ordered, and then turned to Shirayuki. "Honey and lavender for you?"

Shirayuki closed her eyes and hummed appreciatively. "Mmm, yes, that sounds good."

"Aw, he knows her favorite flavor," Yuzuri sighed, placing her free hand on her heart, "that's so romantic!"

Suzu paused mid-lick, looking somewhat affronted. "Hey, I know yours too!"

"I know," soothed Yuzuri, kissing him on the cheek and leaving an imprint of chocolate-cherry lips, "I'm just teasing."

"What did you like best about the play?" Shirayuki asked as they sat underneath a flickering lamp post, savoring the sweetness of the ice cream.

"The costumes, I think," Yuzuri answered, "especially the evil queen's outfit when she poisoned the apple, it was just so shimmery and billowy and..." she blew an appreciative kiss into the air.

"I can't believe that she didn't wear gloves," Ryuu grumbled, taking a bite of sprinkles that threatened to spill off the cone. "Who knows what else she could have contaminated?"

Obi nodded solemnly, humor glinting in his eyes. "Well, she was very evil."

"Lab safety violations aside," Yuzuri laughed, "I thought she looked killer. What did you like then, Ryuu?"

Ryuu hummed. "The actress playing Snow White did a really good job of simulating asphyxia from poisoning."

Shirayuki bit back a laugh. "Yes, she was very talented."

Ryuu nodded. "She was."

"A good singer," Suzu added.

"Yes," Ryuu agreed.

"And pretty," Obi interjected with a smirk.

Ryuu blushed. "Yeah, she--" He froze, and noticed the other four grinning at him knowingly. He opted to bury himself in the devouring of ice cream.

"And we all know what Suzu's favorite part was," Yuzuri smirked.

"A true love's kiss," Suzu sang exuberantly, getting a dab of strawberry on his nose, "will break the curse."

"When you think about it," Yuzuri thought aloud, "that's a strange way to break the curse."

"I guess she wanted to make it something that likely wouldn't happen?" Shirayuki posited.

"Unlikely?" Suzu asked. "Wasn't it obvious that the prince loved her? Did you not hear the song?"

Shirayuki held up her hands. "It was a romantic song," she placated.

"But it is a little weird that the prince just went up and kissed her," Yuzuri continued. "How did he think that would work? Why did he think that would work?"

Obi smirked. "Could be part of fairy-tale elementary school lessons. Don't steal from witches, don't climb up beanstalks, and true love's kiss breaks curses."

"Still," Yuzuri sighed, "it's kind of messed up that she wasn't even awake for their first kiss. She woke up with someone attached to her face. She was a lot more chill with it than I would have been. I would've been so freaked out that I'd have socked him, true love or not."

"Take note, Suzu," Obi advised, amused.

Suzu wilted a little. "It was romantic, though."

"It was in the play," Yuzuri smiled, squeezing his hand, "but outside of it, I think consent is much more romantic."

"Definitely," Shirayuki nodded.

Obi slumped down the rest of his ice cream, putting himself at real risk of ice cream headache, and wrapped her up in a hug.

...

"What did you like best about the play, Obi?" Shirayuki asked as they walked home after waving at Garrack as she closed the door behind Ryuu.

Obi hummed thoughtfully as Shirayuki threaded her fingers with his. "Well, I thought Boss did pretty good, and the sword fighting was impressive. And," he tightened his grip on her hand, ducking his head almost shyly, "I liked how the prince stopped at nothing to get to the woman he loved."

"Like you?" Shirayuki asked, and giggled at the blush staining Obi's cheeks. "My knight in shining armor," she cooed, partly because it was true and partly to watch his blush deepen.

Obi shuffled his feet somehow without stumbling as they walked. "That's romantic," he said gruffly, "that's true love."

"What is?" Shirayuki asked curiously.

"Well," Obi drawled, "someone showing how much they care, no matter what. Being there for them. It's like," he sighed, "coming home and someone's waiting for you. Or waiting at home and knowing that your person will be walking through that door."

"It's," he continued, "having someone sit up with you when your dreams won't let you sleep, even when they can barely keep their eyes open. Or being a stranger in a new place and meeting a group of other strangers who take you in as family -- twice."

Shirayuki nodded. "Like having someone to listen to your work presentations, or saving your cooking from burning down the kitchen?"

They both laughed at the memory.

"Having someone who helps you heal when you are a terrible patient," Obi added.

"Or someone who backs you up when you go headlong into a new project," said Shirayuki.

They stepped up the stairs towards their apartment.

"When they cheer you on despite having no idea what is happening in the game," Obi laughed.

Shirayuki's tone sobered. "Or someone who makes you feel," she choked a little, "beautiful and special and worthy, even when you're nobody."

"Not nobody," Obi countered fervently, stopping and looking her full in the face. "Always somebody. The most wonderful somebody I know."

They stood outside the apartment door.

"That's what I think, anyway," Obi finished quietly.

Shirayuki pressed herself further into his embrace, and sighed. "Me too."

A gust of cold wind blew across them, spurring her into movement, and she stepped forward to unlock the door, the soft light from the kitchen beckoning them inside.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "So you don't believe in true love's kiss?"

The rakish glint she loved shone in his eyes as he stepped beside her. "Now, when did I ever say that?"

Nudging the door closed with his foot, he leaned down towards her, and proceeded to show her just how much he believed.

#obiyukiweek22 #akagami no shirayukihime #obi #shirayuki #true love's kiss #snow white #also the honey and lavender ice cream is a real thing and soooo delicious #found family #thanks for reading

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onedivinemisfit · 3 years

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Squirrel!yuki and Squirrel!obi are in lurve :3

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Art: Me

#akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #obi #shirayuki #myart #whenever I am even slightly upset #I do animal!obiyuki #so comforting ahahaha #kinda got a yule vibe this one #only realizing now lol #weird fact: doodling damaged hair follicles and white hairs are fun

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kirayaykimura · 2 years

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Wrong (Apartment) Number

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 - I Will Find You

Obi hated his apartment complex. Sure it was within walking distance of work and had an in-unit washer and dryer, but the stairwell had no windows. Most people would think that was a petty thing to want to move over, but most people weren’t being hounded by an overly friendly coworker with no means of escape.

“And then she said she’d always wanted a pet monkey so I had to break up with her,” Yuzuri said, continuing the conversation Obi had stopped contributing to half a mile earlier. He could feel her right on his heels, obviously out of breath after six flights but doggedly pushing forward anyway. “So now I’m back to being in love with Garak from afar.”

“It’s probably for the best that you don’t get too close. She’d eat you alive.”

“But what a way to go.”

Obi snorted as he unlocked his door.

“Hey, so,” Obi said as she followed him right over the threshold into his apartment, “why are you here?”

“Because I’m brokenhearted about how Garak doesn’t love me back now that I’m newly single again. Weren’t you listening?”

“And I’m helping with that how?”

“By feeding me popcorn and alcohol and maybe watching a movie with me.”

“You’re shameless,” he said, to which she simply grinned. Aware he wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon (and secretly happy he wouldn’t have to spend his entire Friday night alone), Obi had one foot in his bedroom to change out of his work clothes before settling in on the couch with Yuzuri before he froze. There was a lump in his bed. A lump with red hair and wide eyes that looked as surprised as he felt.

“Oh,” Yuzuri stated. “There’s a girl in your bed.”

Obi leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and felt Yuzuri peek over his other shoulder to get a better look at said girl.

“So there is,” he said, casually crossing his arms over his chest and settling in for the explanation. This was not the first time an unexpected girl had popped up in his bed, but it was the first time he didn’t recognize her at all. He found himself very interested to see what on earth this girl’s story was going to be.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. She was clearly scared, but did a very good job of hiding it. Her voice was strong and commanding. The message was slightly undermined by the fact that her hair was mussed from what looked to be a very good nap and she was buried under his fluffy pink comforter, but he’d still give her brownie points for trying.

Obi raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you really think you get to be asking that question?”

“Since this is my apartment, I think I have the right to know who’s breaking and entering.”

“Your-” Obi looked around, confused. She’d said it with such conviction that he wondered for a moment if he had walked into the wrong apartment. Wouldn’t be the first time. But no, that was definitely his garishly pink comforter. He glanced back at the kitchen where he found the distinctive chip in the linoleum by the sink. His drying rack still held one sad, solitary plate and a fork. (He had a dishwasher but never enough dinnerware to fill it with, so he ended up hand-washing on the days he had to microwave day-old take-out.) He turned back to B&E Girl and said, “Your apartment?”

“Yes,” she said imperiously. “Now, if you don’t mind, please leave and we can forget this ever happened.”

Baffled, Obi said, “Alright,” and silently shut the door.

“What are you doing?” Yuzuri asked. Now that the door was closed and there was no one to peek in on, she made her way into his kitchen and helped herself to the chips he had stashed in the cabinet to the right of his fridge.

Obi wondered how she unerringly found his food as he floundered for a response.

“Are you really going to let her take over your place like that?” Yuzuri asked. “You’re gonna let her be a squatter?”

“There’s no chance you’re going home, is there?”

“And miss this show? Absolutely not.”

She grabbed a sparkling water from the fridge Zen left behind the last (and only) time he’d visited, made a disgusted face, then carried it and the pilfered chips back to his couch to settle in.

Obi sighed. It was his fault for making friends at work.

Now for what to do about the girl sequestered in his room. He racked his brain trying to remember if he’d met her somewhere before, but he was positive the effort was moot. He made a point to remember beautiful women who might end up in his bed. The only other girl he could think of was some new person set to start on Monday. Zen had called about her in advance. Obi, take care of this one. She’s special.

“Shirayuki?” Obi ventured with a single, gentle knock at the door to let her know he was talking to her.

There was a pause from the other side, long enough that Obi figured he had it wrong, before Shirayuki said, “I have a knife,” with the barest hint of a tremor. She didn’t deny it and she was clearly scared, which meant he was right and she wanted to know how he knew that. Probably. Like, he was good at reading people but reading their voices were kind of a crapshoot.

Despite the poor girl’s fear, he couldn’t help but joke, “Well, I’m generally pretty good at dodging those.”

The end of his sentence morphed into an, “Hey,” as Yuzuri pelted him with a Dorito.

“She’s scared, you idiot,” Yuzuri stage-whispered at him after the third chip hit him directly between the eyes.

“She broke into my apartment and threatened me with a knife. Why aren’t I allowed to be scared?”

“You just said you can dodge those.”

“Go. Home.” He turned back to the door and said, “Zen told me you’d be coming. Asked me to keep an eye out for you. I’m Obi.”

“Obi?” A pause. “The messenger?”

“Not for about four years now, but yep, that’s me.”

Zen tended to forget little things like the passage of time. Obi hadn’t been a messenger in quite some time. Kiki had been married for two years. And yet, Zen was suspended in a sort of arrested development in which they were all still 21 and saw each other all the time. It was sweet in a way. It made spending time together challenging because I just saw you last month (it had been closer to six the last time he’d used that excuse), but when they did manage to find time to hang out it was like nothing had changed. He was still a workaholic. Obi was still a workaholic. Zen still blushed so prettily when Obi called him nice names. It was a bit of same-ness he could always count on, which was simultaneously pleasant and suffocating after a lifetime of personal upheavals and reinventions.

He heard the creak of his bedsprings, a soft padding of feet on his floors, and then she was there. She opened the door a crack and eyed him skeptically.

“You know Zen?” she asked.

Obi nodded. “We go way back.” He pointed over to Yuzuri, who was watching this all unfold with open curiosity. “That’s Yuzuri. Seems like you two will be working together soon.”

Shirayuki opened the door just far enough to stick her head out and peer over at Yuzuri.

“Hi, squatter,” Yuzuri said with a wave.

“Are you the botanist?” Shirayuki asked.

“Yep! Well, one of them.”

Shirayuki’s eyes went wide as she opened the door all the way and said, “I am so sorry.”

“Ah,” Obi said. “She finally believes us.”

“I thought-“ she cut herself off. “But then I was the one- oh no, I threatened you.”

Obi shrugged. “It’s fine. You didn’t actually hurt me. Unless you’re planning to stab me with one of those knives you’ve apparently got hidden on your person.”

Slowly, she admitted, “I don’t actually have a knife.”

He bit down on a smile and said, “You don’t say.”

“Wait,” Yuzuri said. “I still don’t get how you got in.”

“Yeah, how did you?” Obi asked. He was absolutely positive he’d locked his door. He’d also arranged a throw blanket over the safe in one of his bottom kitchen cabinets and folded it just so so that he’d be able to tell if anyone broke in and tried to, well, break in. (Old habits died hard.)

“I have a key?” Shrayuki’s voice rose slightly at the end, like even she was second-guessing her story at this point. She physically shook her head, strode across the room to her purse sitting on the little useless table by the front door, grabbed her keys, and held up one of them. “Here. I’ll show you.”

And show she did. The key went in the lock and turned the deadbolt without any force or jiggling. Like it was made exactly for that slot.

“Why would the complex give you a key to my apartment?” Obi asked, baffled.

Shirayuki looked back at him, clearly at an equal loss. She said, “Maybe they got confused like I did and gave me the wrong floor? I mean, I know that’s not how numbers work, but people make mistakes.”

“Mistake or not,” Yuzuri said, “we should check out your apartment and see if you can get in.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll be fine.”

Obi snatched her keys out of her hands on his way out the door and said, “Come on, criminal. I’m in this now, too.”

As they descended the stairs, Obi said, “I think I know what happened. I did the same thing when I moved in. Startled the old man above me pretty good walking right in on him. The landlord says our floors are numbered the European way, but I think the builders messed up and he didn’t want to pay to fix it. The first floor is Floor Zero. You live in 208 but it’s only-” he gestured upward, “-one set of stairs up.”

“Oh, like in France,” Yuzuri said.

“Have you ever been to France?”

“No.”

“Yuzuri.”

“What? I’ve never been to Egypt either but I know what the Pyramids look like.”

“I think she’s right,” Shirayuki said. “It is the way French buildings are numbered.”

Betrayed within seconds.

“Fine,” Obi said with a dramatic sigh, “but it’s still stupid because we’re not in France or Europe, so no one really gets the floor layout and it causes misunderstandings like this. Though it doesn’t explain the key thing because my key definitely didn’t work on the old man’s door.” He’d tried his key and found the knob turned even as his key didn’t. Turned out, Obi had just happened to come by during the short minute between the old man coming home with arms full of groceries and setting them down to have a free hand to lock up for the night.

It turned out fine. He and Gerald play gin rummy on Thursday nights now.

Finally, they made it to Shirayuki’s actual apartment door and confirmed that both her key and his unlocked her door. The three of them tilted their heads slightly to the right and said, “Huh.”

“Well, that’s not safe,” Obi said after a beat.

“No,” Shirayuki and Yuzuri said.

“Okay,” Obi said, wriggling his key off its ring. “I’m reasonably sure it’s just our apartments after my run-in with the fella above me, so why don’t you take my key as insurance I won’t burst in on you unexpectedly. I’ll call the landlord and have him change my locks.” He held out his newly-freed key, but she just frowned at it.

“How will you get into your apartment?”

“Not sure.” He shrugged. “I’ll find a way. It’s good, though. Keeps my skills sharp.” He waved his key tantalizingly in front of Shirayuki’s face. When she still refused to take it, he grabbed her hand and placed it into her palm. “If I really need my key back, I will find you.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” Yuzuri said. “I once watched him scale the side of the building at work just because he was bored. He’s a freak. You’ll be providing a service.”

Her fingers slowly closed over the key. Satisfied she wasn’t going to drop it or toss it back at him, he let his hand fall back to his side and gave her back her personal space.

“How will you find me?” Shirayuki asked. “You know, if you really need to get your key back?”

“He’ll be fine,” Yuzuri promised. “You’re just giving him the excuse he’s always wanted to shimmy up the drain pipe or whatever he daydreams about doing.”

“First of all, drain pipes are flimsy and horrible for climbing.” He only made that mistake…seven times. “Second of all, we work together now. I’ll find your desk.”

“Oh. Right.”

Shirayuki frowned like she still wasn’t completely convinced. It was fair; she’d never met Obi before and therefore had no idea that Yuzuri was right (not that he would ever admit that out loud) and he was actually pretty excited at the prospect of not being able to get into his apartment the conventional way. He was just trying to decide if he should offer to let her watch him scale the east side of the building when she asked, “Do you have a phone?”

“Like, in general, or…”

She gave him a look that said she was not in the mood to be messed with. It was such a shame (for her) that it made him want to do it more.

“On you,” she clarified.

“Ah. No.”

“Right.”

She nodded and pulled a pen out of her purse, then dragged his hand up to about chest height and started writing something on his palm. He was caught so off-guard that he almost tripped over himself, but managed to keep his feet planted just in time. Unlike when he’d grabbed her hand earlier, her grabbing his effectively pulled him in close enough that his chest was almost touching her shoulder. He was definitely close enough to smell her hair, which was pretty creepy and he very much wished he didn’t know she smelled like some kind of flower with just a hint of spice. He also wished Yuzuri would stop staring at him with her eyebrows raised, but the universe was apparently not taking his hopes and dreams into consideration tonight.

“Use that if you need your key back,” she said as she released him from her grasp. He lifted his hand to find eleven numbers written in a delightfully messy scrawl.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He gave her a lazy salute, certain he would absolutely never use her number.

“I mean it,” she said, gaze serious and commanding. “I’m not letting you leave without a way into your home.”

This time when he said, “Yes, ma’am,” he meant it a little more. He’d probably never use it, but maybe he’d put it in his phone. Or write it on a post-it before it washed off in the bath. If anything, it would be a sweet reminder of the nice girl who didn’t know him at all but was still clearly worried about him anyway.

*****

Later, when he managed to finally ditch Yuzuri (he walked her to the station and made sure she got on her train safely), scale the building via fire escape (boring), and face plant into his bed (nice), he found his pillow smelled different. Lightly floral with the barest hint of spice. It took him a moment to trace the scent back to its source, but he grinned when he did. I had your girl in my bed last night was quite the opener for an email back to the boss, and he couldn’t wait to send it.

#obiyukimadness22 #suspend your disbelief at the door this one's wacky #though aren't all romcoms a little ridiculous?#this feels at least on par with the wedding planner's meet cute #obiyuki #my fic #snow white with the red hair

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what-plant-metaphor-am-i · 2 years

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2021 Creator Self-Love Extravaganza!

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2021. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

Thank you for the tag @nokaru!! 😊

Year total: 16 (14 art posts, 1 fic, 1 song)

1. A Lilias Drinking Song🍻

I was really pleased with how this came out; I'd had the urge to write an AnS song for a while and had a lot of fun coming up with a tune and some lyrics, imagining a lively inn atmosphere. It was like taking a step into the ans-verse~

2. At The Reins

My first AnS fic, written for obiyukimadness21, 'Almost Kiss' prompt. I feel like I captured the personal atmosphere I wanted to go for here! I am pleased with my descriptions and think I kept the characters true to canon :)

3. Fearless Folly

Obiyukiweek21 submission; although not my best art I really like the idea of these two sauntering into a soiree without a care, arm in arm, commoners united 💪

4. Future Nostalgia Obi

This year I was slightly obsessed with the album Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa and got into it around the same time as I did obiyuki. Hence, the two are linked in my mind, and Future Nostalgia Obi was born! 🙌 Here I drew him in the place of Dua Lipa in the album art and I just really like how it looks. I like his expression and the fabric detail and his pose, and how said pose ends up revealing his major chest scar which feels relevant. It was a drawing I started not meaning for it to be much but then I loved how it turned out! (plus I think Obi fits this kind of diva vibe ngl)

5. Pillow talk part 1.

For obiyukimadness21 - Only One Bed prompt :D had fun with this one and I think that comes across, haha. First time drawing an AnS comic and clearly it's pretty rough but I'm still happy with it! I love comics and the idea of making them, so actually completing one (even if it was just a 'part 1') was a feat in itself and I suppose I'm proud of that. My aim is to make more comics next year, (starting with Pillow Talk part 2 😅) and try to neaten them up, so here's to that!

Honourable mention: Obi and Torou sketches that I was proud of! I liked the head angles and their expressions, imagining who or what they were reacting to :D

Tagging: @the-pompous-potato, @zenouji and @kitsunefire7 plus anyone else who wants to :)

#also thanks to those in charge of obiyukiweek/madness for giving my submissions names 😂 I kept forgetting that little detail...#tagged #myart #mywriting #obi #shirayuki #torou #obiyuki #mystuff #2021 creator self-love extravaganza

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obiyuki-beebs · 3 years

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and it goes on: an excerpt

Obiyuki Bingo 2021

Words: 565

Free space! Chronic illness / Disability AU.

@snowwhite-andtheknight

-------

Shirayuki wondered, after the fact, if she was simply ignoring the signs. If maybe she could have done something earlier that would have made it easier.

There were days they spent foraging in the woods -- collecting the wild herbs that weren’t so easy to cultivate in controlled conditions -- that at the end of them, her knees ached. Aching like a knife in between the bones; aching until she sank into the hot bath in Lilias central; aching until the willow bark solution finally, finally, started to work.

There was a whole month in Autumn when both of her thumbs were inexplicably useless. Her grip floundered often, and Shidan almost seemed like he might be frustrated when she dropped her sixth medicine vial. She realizes after the second week that her frequent massage of the joints is not providing any relief and takes Ryuu’s advice to simply ice and let them rest. He sat with her in the pharmacy, small hands in his as he examined them, his brows furrowed.

It had been slightly alarming when she heard the sharp crack of her hips as she climbed into bed in the dead of winter, echoing around her small room. But it happened so rarely -- only every few months, she thought -- that it didn’t seem like something that needed attention. Just the snap of her tendons over the joint. Normal. Something everyone goes through.

Perhaps the most intrusive change that she had, for whatever reason, ignored was when she was no longer able to maintain energy with just her usual, single cup of tea; Shirayuki quickly found herself consuming three to four mugs of coffee to stave off the all-encompassing exhaustion that overtook her. The cost of staying alert while she worked was a frightful inability to slip into sleep in the evenings, and soon she was living in a cycle of perpetual, endless sleep deprivation.

-----

If only, if only, if only. But there is no going back.

And then, her life changed.

-------

Shirayuki woke up slowly the morning after Suzu and Yuzuri’s wedding; it was a riotous affair, complete with mead and line dancing so fervent that she was sure it was simply the dancing that had made it so difficult to climb the stairs to her room. Waking was difficult, and her entire body was stiff, but surely, surely, it was just the effects of alcohol and her usual plague of poor sleep.

Back to work, she thought to herself, moving slowly, dressing slowly. The now-familiar weight of fatigue hung like a shroud. Just make it through the day.

Ryuu eyed her from his desk in the pharmacy as she trundled into the room, feet hardly lifting from the stone slab.

“Shirayuki,” he spoke as he rose, approaching her with the face she recognized as his assessment-underway expression, “You seem different.”

“Oh, you know. Too much to drink.”

“Hmm. Have you taken anything?”

“Willow bark.”

He nodded, eyes skirting down to look at her quivering hands.

“Please keep me informed of how you’re feeling. I’m concerned.”

“I can tell. Thank you, I will,” she replied, smiling and turning towards the schedule listing expected patient visits.

Ryuu hadn’t left yet, seeming to expect her to say something else.

“I-” she started, face falling and voice dipping lower, “To be honest, I’m concerned, too.”

He simply nodded, lifting his hand to her shoulder with a reassuring pat.

-------

Hello hi thank you for reading!

Write about what you know, eh? Hope you don’t mind my wildly obvious self-insert fic contribution. Changes made to better fit Shirayuki but I am mostly drawing from my own experience.

I do have a plan for this but .... tbd.

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #obi x shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #wip #my writing #chronic illness au #will probably be exceptionally angsty #do u see my pattern of just giving enough to fill the fill #ha #please ignore the frequent tense changes #hopefully will fix that as progress is made #no betaaaa

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 7 years

Note

1, 4, 5, 10 :)

1: what are you currently working on?

Since I sorta answered the first one for Jen, I’ll tell you the thesis question of what I am outlining for the next fic: What would have happened if Team Zen was unable to rescue Shirayuki in time?

4. describe your favorite character or characters

Obi. Hands down. He is just such a compelling character with a tragic backstory going through a years long healing arc in the background of AnS. Idk, seeing someone find value in themselves just makes me hnnnnnnggggggggggg

5: post a line from your current project without any context

(This answer is a reflection for answer #1 and not what I’m wrapping up)

Hereyes widen, grasping his hand covering her mouth and he sees the momentrecognition takes hold.

10: what song sums up your current work the best?

Again, this is a reflection of the answer for #1

youtube

#ask bubbles #fanfic meme #i am looking forward to obiyuki week #if only for the chance to do something slightly fluffy #i mean #this is a project I've wanted to write for nearly a year now #it's just...#intense

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littleaverill · 7 years

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Then Somebody Bends - Beauty and the Beast AU

Before Shirayuki, on a small pedestal, was a rose - beautiful, red, dying. It needed no water, no dirt as it floated, but still the delicate petals fell one by one. They laid shrivelled at the bottom of the glass cage. It was one of the few plants left alive in the capital. The curse had affected more than the people; the entire landscape had frozen, covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, the winds blowing ever fiercer. Never had she thought she would consider Lyrias warm. The rose had been secure in Izana's chambers before Haki and her entourage of scientists and cursebreakers had arrived. Now it remained in the lab, a small room off of the library, for testing. Obi entered the room with her dinner, his brass feet clacking against the stone floor. Even as a coatrack, he walked with grace, wooden limbs moving fluidly. Some of the curse's victims complained of stiffness and lack of mobility, but he seemed unaffected. She glanced back towards her work, then up at him. He gestured expectantly toward the food. "You have to eat." He found her eating habits appalling, and she had only been here four days, only known him for three. She wasn't sure what he thought about her sleep schedule, but it couldn't be flattering. She dragged her chair closer to the platter, sniffing it cautiously. Her stomach grumbled in impatience. She raised her fork, poised to spear an unknown meat, and paused. Obi was looming. "How spicy is it?" She asked. He laughed and backed away from the table. "Not as spicy as last time, I swear." Her mouth tingled at the memory. She ate the first bite slowly, then dove in. She was ravenous. Obi crossed his arms smugly. He was an old friend of Suzu's; she only knew of him because of the letter that had sent Suzu toppling out of his chair with laughter. Supposedly, Obi visited often, but she hadn't been in Lyrias long enough to meet him. Obi wasn't a healer by profession, she wasn't quite sure what he did, but he managed to keep up with the science flying around the room. She'd been skeptical at first, but Ryuu, one of Garrack Gazelt's staff and a robin-blue tea cup, had vouched for him. She finished her dinner swiftly, deciding to pack it in. She couldn't do much right now without Suzu; between them, he was the better cursebreaker. "Do you think they can do it in time? Haki and Izana, I mean." Obi asked. "They might." Love wasn't her area of expertise, but it seemed unlikely. "We'll probably break it well before that point." Neither Izana or Haki seemed eager to fall in love, even to break a curse - even though they've been engaged for a year. "Honestly, they might be resisting on principle." "Maybe they don't know how to love freely." Shirayuki paused, considering. Often, Obi would speak so casually, but something in his voice made her certain he wasn't being straightforward. The grooves and scars in the wood that made up his face made him hard to read, and she doubted it would be any easier once the curse was broken. She wondered what colour his eyes were - the bright blue she's come to associate with Clarines, grey like the stormy ocean her grandparents had taken her to see, or dark as the pepper he insists makes everything taste better. She wondered if his skin was the same deep brown as his cursed form. She wondered if she wondered too much. After all, as soon as the curse was broken, she would be heading back to Lyrias: frozen most of the year and soggy the rest, home to primarily scholars, and - apart from the occasional outbreak - uneventful. No one would follow her there - not a prince, and not Obi. "They'll figure it out eventually," she said and wondered if she believed it.

#obiyuki #ans #obiyukibingo #beauty and the beast au #more of that mess #this is a mess #but it's a slightly longer mess #Izana got cursed #because of course he did #and Haki can't let her betrothed and his entire castle be cursed for eternity #so she fixes it #I did it folks

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snowwhite-andtheknight · 4 years

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Announcing:

This winter challenge, we have devised a whole new type of challenge for you! Obiyuki Chopped functions slightly less like Chopped and more like Iron Chef: for each day of the competition, running 12/31/20-1/2/21, there will be a prompt basket, in which all the elements must be used within your creation! These baskets will be multimedia, including both text prompts, visual prompts, and audio prompts (though maybe not all at the same time), and it will be up to you how to incorporate them!

Prompts will be announced by November 1st (perhaps earlier if we can swing it), and each of the four elements will be selected from the answers the fandom provided on our survey!

This challenge is open entry, meaning no signup is necessary! Just post your works on the appropriate day, and they will be reblogged to the comm.

Run Dates: Dec 31- Jan 2 Prompts Announced: Nov 1st Tag: #obiyukichopped Medias: Fic & art (other media welcome but may be difficult to do with the nature of the challenge)

Guidelines:

All work must be your own

The main pairing is Obi x Shirayuki

Must contain/be inspired by all the prompts within the day’s “basket”

Must be tagged #obiyukichopped within the first five tags

Fics must be over 500 words to count as a fill

All NSFW content must be tagged and under a Read More!

You may submit more than one entry for each day!

Be nice

Play hard

#obiyuki #shiraobi #Obi x Shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyukichopped

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queenofwordsandnerds · 4 years

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My favorite Obiyuki Moments from Ch. 117!

Ok so we're gonna get a MASQUERADE BALL and I'm SO FREAKING EXCITED like we know IMPORTANT STUFF is gonna happen at this ball

First of all, this cover art. My boi OBI LOOKING FINEEEEEEEE my eyes literally bulged when I saw this picture. Everything about it, from the color scheme to the clothing style to OBI'S expression is just--*fans self* even if Sorata doesn't plan for Obiyuki to be endgame (which I don't believe) she's certainly trying very hard to make us all fall in love with Obi which I think should say something.

I love the parallels in this one, how Shirayuki's determined face on the top right mirrors Obi's confident face on the bottom left (confidence in HER may I add).

Also it's just hilarious how when she says she wants to go too he acts confused as a joke before assuring her that of course she can go. She's his Mistress, whatever she wants he will assist. Obi would as soon dream of stopping Shirayuki as killing her, except if it's a situation where her safety could be in legitimate jeopardy. I absolutely adore how Shirayuki has grown from a naive girl new to Clarines court life into this strong, smart and savvy young lady who knows what she wants and can hold her own in political situations. And yes that may seem like a point for ZenYuki, but who was there to help her on her journey to that point in her character development? Obi. Not Zen. OBI. This boi will always support his lady and I am HERE FOR IT.

Also OBI AND HIS DOUBLE ENTENDRE IN THE LAST PANEL. "Sometimes someone else will wait for you" I think this line should be added to the canon of iconic Obiyuki lines because on level 1, he's telling her that he'll be by her side and empowering her that she will not be pushed to the sidelines, but rather that she and her skills will be useful. On level 2, however, he's telling her that HE WILL WAIT FOR HER. Obi's love for Shirayuki is NOT going anywhere. No matter how long it takes or whatever she does, Obi loves her and will wait for her. And his EXPRESSION when he says it...we've seen that expression on Obi's face before and we all know what it means. Just...that's an underrated line and I think the Obiyuki fandom should notice it.

And this section comes right after the above. OH MY LORD there's so many little things I've noticed about each panel.

The first one: LOOK AT SHIRAYUKI'S EXPRESSION. Look at how surprised she is at WHAT OBI HAS SAID TO HER. IMO, I'm sure she is rather impressed by how he has reassured her that she is necessary, useful and wanted in the masquerade mission. But also... Shirayuki is a confident girl. She knows herself, she knows her assets. And she also knows that there has never been any doubt that Obi will support her unless the consequences of her actions might be dire. She's USED to Obi supporting her. So why does she look so startled and taken aback by his words? She looks speechless, as if she LEARNED SOMETHING. I believe that this might be a moment where Shirayuki might see past Obi's words to his double meaning. He says he will wait for her. Why would that shock Shirayuki so much unless there was something deeper that she didn't expect?

The second panel reinforces her speechlessness. Here, she looks slightly less startled and more determined, but her surprise is still there. Yet she does pay attention when Obi says that they'll be assisting each other. Instance #1734839101 of Obiyuki relying on each other through a tough situation. And the way they face each other framing the word bubble and the panel...*chefs kiss*. For all Shirayuki talks about supporting Zen, she certainly does an awful lot of supporting Obi. And IMO, Obi has done WAAAAAAYYY more supporting of Shirayuki than Zen has. Obiyuki shippers know how often Obiyuki is paired and seen as a duo. They just...they work together so well and their chemistry and compatibility as partners is not only amazing, but LITERALLY RECOGNIZED AS CANON. I can't remember who says it (Shidan?) But someone observes Obiyuki's "compatibility as a duo" as proof of how well they can accomplish tasks together. And now I'm getting off course. But this section is already screaming Obiyuki for me (obviously).

Anyway, third/middle panel. Shirayuki regains her composure, and she agrees with Obi of course. But not after the word bubble appears that shows that SHE WAS STILL SPEECHLESS. She was still processing his words for probably about 5 seconds. Honestly, although what Obi said was important, it wasn't all that groundbreaking or atypical for him as a character. So why does Shirayuki react so strongly to it?

I believe the answer lies in the fourth and fifth panels on the bottom right. They show one of many framings of Obiyuki where they share a gaze. Obi's face looks rather unperturbed. He's confident in his abilities as well as Shirayuki's to figure out this problem, and in this glance where they seem to come to a mutual unspoken agreement he just looks at her proudly and admiringly. You know, typical Obi.

But more and more were seeing Shirayuki direct these warm, gentle glances towards Obi. Just look at her expression! She looks so happy, confident, and at ease with their plan and the fact that they'll be working together. Obi helped her feel this way! Shirayuki's warm glances are always part of a major Obiyuki moment (see "welcome home, Obi."). But if you consider how this particular warm glances immediately follows her surprised speechlessness, I think this is more telling than it seems. We've been getting little hints throughout the latest chapters that Shirayuki may be starting to either realize Obi's feelings for her, or develop more-than-friends feelings for him, or both. We all know the depth of the bond they share, platonic, romantic, or otherwise. But I think Shirayuki is starting to see that something more may be going on here. I think she's realizing how much Obi means to her and the strength and complexity of their relationship. Her eyes are starting to open, and this panel is just one of several examples. I think that Sorata will continue to expand on this, and I certainly hope she does (because that means MORE OBIYUKI DEVELOPMENT).

Also I forgot to download the panel, but when they found that cloaked figure near the end who would also be helping I FREAKED OUT. I was SO MAD because I saw that cloak and the person's attitude and my mind immediately went to Send. I remembered when he wore a cloak in a previous chapter. Also, when they said that this person would help them out a lot to find the lady, that also seems like a Zen thing. I freaked out, not in the good way, because this chapter had been giving us QUALITY OBIYUKI CONTENT and then to throw Zen in at the end to distract Shirayuki, maybe fluster her and make her lose focus, to ruin it all (Zen I love you but not with Shirayuki)... I would NOT have been happy.

But of course it wasn't Zen, it was one of the Bergatt twins and I squeeeed because 1) I love the Bergatt Bois and 2) everything was ok and I'm looking forward to more Obiyuki content in the next chapter.

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sabraeal · 10 months

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All That Remains, Chapter 11: The Prince and the Princess [Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Written for both Obiyuki Bingo and also a very, very overdue birthday gift for @lusakina, who has nearly waited a year for me to be able to sit down and write this. It’s a slightly shorter chapter than these typically are, but this one needed to be more of an interlude between parts...

With a flourish of the pen, the girl escapes.

That is how a story would tell of this, wouldn’t it? A grand climax racing into the gentle arms of a denouement. An exultant cry of victory followed by a blank page.

Our fingers straddle the border between two words; one in which there is the possibility of failure, and the other which brings us the relief of success. It is so easy for us to turn the page, to shift from those dire hours to the moment of safety. A girl escapes, and in the space of a breath, she is far away, only pale echo of that danger buried beneath the next step of her journey.

There is no time to dwell on the between; on the sleepless hours wondering whether you will awake to the sounds of stomps and shouts, of whether you can afford to stop to catch a breath or must chance a push onward, hoping your own legs won’t give out beneath you. On the page there is only room for failure or flight, and anything in between...

That is where the story abandons you. Escape is only a small sliver of survival, and the the rest, the rest--

Is living. And oh, that is by far the hardest part.

Lata taught her how to ride on one of the sparse spring days in Lilias; Shirayuki had been the one to ask, only a day or so before, and he had huffed, at least it might make you more useful. A tepid response, one she thought had been as polite a refusal as a man like him could come, until she bumped into him in the courtyard, mouth wrapped halfway around a good morning, before he hauled her off to the stable.

Unlike most of her studies, riding did not come easy. No, instead it came in fits and starts; months of taking two steps forward and ten steps back until one day her amiable little mare broke out into a canter, and Shirayuki kept her seat. Good, the professor had grunted, hunching his furs up around his ears. I thought I might just wash my hands of this and let that poor excuse for a knight cart you around like luggage.

Please, my lord, Obi had called from his perch on the fence, a gloved hand pressed courteously to his chest. She would be my precious cargo.

Whatever he chose to call it, it was baggage, and if there was one thing Shirayuki refused to be, it was a burden. Riding might not come easy, but she had kept with it until not even Zen could find a flaw with her seat, and yet--

And yet, beside Kiki she sits a graceful as a rock in a bucket; unlikely to tumble out but by no means proficient. At least, not the way she thought she was. That’s the difference between learning a good seat and being born to it, she supposes, which wouldn’t matter at all if the moment Kiki slowed them to a trot, she didn’t feel as if her own backside would fall off.

“Catch your breath,” Kiki tells her, voice raised no louder than the susurrus of leaves around them. “We’ll need to keep moving.”

A protest hones itself to a point at the tip of her tongue-- there’s no need to stop, it wants to say, I won’t slow you down-- but Kiki only stares at her, kindness leaving her no quarter. The fight sloughs off her like a skin-- no, like a gown, ill-fitting and heavy, made for someone else. Another Shirayuki, one more used to saddles and stirrups, who spent her days toiling in the gardens and summers riding across the North, who hadn’t been afraid to throw a blanket over dewy grass to stare up at the stars.

Not the one who had wasted two seasons trying to slip into a smile that pinched at the seams. Who hadn’t let her friend simply disappear while she chose which spoon to stir her tea.

Nails bite into the flesh of her palms, sharper than she ever kept them in Wirant. She’d needed them short, then; longer ones were liable to break, for dirt to get caked deep within the bed, but in the palace...

Ornamental, Haki had called them, hanging polished nails over the divan. The same as Shirayuki had been, when all the flounces settled. Nothing more but another face to decorate its halls.

Her breath steams in the air, a gasping specter that dissolves as soon as it appears, never quite solid enough to grasp. Glancing over her shoulder, the lights of Wistal still shimmering past the dark ribbon of the river, she feels much the same. Insubstantial. Hardly real. That if she just reached out she could touch those glittering lamps as if they were no more than shards of wunderocks, meant to settle in the palm of her hands and never burn.

The city’s so tame from so far away.

“We should go back.”

It’s barely more than a whisper, a toneless sigh into the night, but Kiki’s stare cuts to her, sharp as the blade at her waist. “Shirayuki. You have just fled the palace and its protections.” The night blurs the details of her expression into shadow, but the angle of her brows says sharp, skeptical. “Are you really so eager to return?”

“I-I didn’t say we should go back t-there.” She skips over her words like a stone on a still pond, hands clenched tight around her reins. “I just meant...the market. Or maybe one of the pubs. Somewhere...”

Somewhere there’s something left of him, she doesn’t say. There’s no point when Kiki is already shaking her head, gold shimmering silver in the moonlight. “You do understand, don’t you? We cannot go back. Not to the palace, not to the market...not to Wistal at all.”

“But that was the last place Obi was seen,” she insists, stomach as knotted as the leather strap in her hands. “If we’re going to find anything, it will be there. If we leave now--”

“Obi has made some...questionable decisions in the past” --the wrinkle between Kiki’s brows discourages further inquiry-- “but if he was trying to slip out of Wistal under the Watch’s nose, he wouldn’t stop for a drink.”

Her mouth works-- wasn’t he supposed to be a slither-outer? a man who abandoned his post to make a fool of himself in every tavern before he’d crawl back into our good graces?-- but that venom stings even her own lips, a set of lies too raw a wound in her to even scrape out a single sound. To pretend she could believe that of him for a moment, even just to win her way--

You do know that house plants don’t drink champagne, she informs him, poking her head around the improbable girth of this fiddle leaf fig. Even if it does reside in a manor house.

Gold flashes up from where he crouches, startled, flute hanging limply from his fingers. It’s only a moment before it smooths into an easy confidence, into a grin that’s right at home with all these silver platters and crystal glass. It’s either this or off one of these fancy little balconies, and I got to say, there aren’t ladies walking out from beneath these leaves. Well, except you, Miss.

His playfulness is contagious. You could just drink it, if you need to. I doubt this would give you anything more serious than a case of the hiccups. She leans in, conspiratorial. In my professional opinion.

You may be the granddaughter of a bar, Miss, but never on the streets I’ve visited. A corner of his mouth twists as he levers himself to his feet. Then you’d know that the only knife you carry with you is a sharp one.

--It would be a betrayal. Another way for her to turn her back on him, to forget the man he’d become over these past six years, the one who-- who--

So, it was worth having? Just asking makes her stomach lurch, like holding her foot over a precipice, trying to judge the distance down. It’s just a necklace, just Obi, and yet she’s tangled up in anticipation, breathless for that tilt of his head, that soft flicker of a smile.

Of course. Both fondness and confusion add an airiness to his laugh, as if his answer were as certain as the ground beneath their feet, or as necessary as the air between them. It would have been just for the fact that you lent it to me.

--It’s impossible.

Not that he loved her; of course he did, but in the way a key loved its lock, or a hand might miss its pair. The way she felt when she walked the streets in front of her grandparents’ old pub and heard laughing through the glass. She was a best-worn glove, a favorite meal, a half-remembered chorus to a lullaby.

She was home, the same way he was for her. And to think of it as the same as the knights in the palace tapestries, kneeling at the feet of their mistresses and longing, to think of it as desire...

They’re mistaken, is all. Of anyone, she knew him best. If his feelings had changed, then surely she would have noticed, she would have known--

You don’t know anything about me, Miss.

Her breath catches, painful in her chest. “But we don’t know where to look. If there’s a lead, then--”

“There’s nothing left to find of him there.” Each word hits her like a whip crack, a lash she’s not braced to take. “They will be looking for you, Shirayuki. Not now, but in the morning...”

In the morning, one of Haki’s maids would bustle into her chambers, throwing curtains wide and informing her of the gowns the consort had set out for her perusal. But today her hands would sink into the covers and find no flesh beneath it, no young lady to dress as her mistress pleased. No, there would only be a haphazard bundle of silk and velvet and down, and then, then--

Kiki’s eyes narrow as she gazes back, a hunter gauging the distance between her and her target. “It will take them time to search the grounds, to realize...”

That she was gone. No, that she, of her own volition, had left.

Kiki’s mare nickers as she leads her head around, back to the road ahead. “We should use what time we have wisely.”

It is simple to have purpose when there is trouble at your back, when there is the promise of menace nipping at your heels. One step yields to the next with such ease that it becomes nothing more than an instinct, heedless of fear and of good sense. Forward is so much more tenable as a directive than a decision.

Second thoughts are the luxury of those whose stories have an after.

Night passes into day, and what once seemed a steady, sustainable pace turns relentless. Kiki turns them off the main road at first light-- we can cover your hair, but two women riding hard is a rare enough sight still-- leading them first through fields of tall grass and wildflowers, so many Shirayuki is tempted to ask for a rest, if only to replenish her stocks--

But the grimness of Kiki’s jaw stills the words on her tongue.

It’s not long until fields give way to scrublands, and scrub gives way to the first stirrings of a forest, its canopy blotting out the sun’s heat as it climbs to its zenith. To her eyes, it seems untouched, a primordial kingdom of leaf and bramble and vine, but Kiki quickly picks out a hunter’s trail in the brush, leading them deep into its cool embrace.

It’s only then that Kiki lets their pace slow, that she lets her mare come to a panting halt. “We’ll stop here. The horses need to rest.”

There’s no block for her to dismount to, but Kiki provide a knee-- and then a net of arms in short measure, once Shirayuki’s leg fails to swing over and becomes a slow, terrifying slide.

“Sorry,” she gasps, clutching hard to her shoulders. “I didn’t realize that my, er, I mean...everything’s numb...?”

Her only consolation is that Kiki’s huff is at least amused when she finds her feet. “No need to apologize. We rode for a long time. Longer than we should have.”

Obi used to complain that too much time in the saddle made him bow-legged-- like some sort of hedge knight, Miss-- but it’s not until she hobbles across the clearing, too much space between her thighs, that she understands it.

“Oh, did we? That’s good. I mean--” there’s no comfortable way to rest; to stand means suffering her trembling legs, to sit only worsens the numbness “--I thought so, but if we were really riding for so long, then we would stop to switch out the horses...”

Kiki shakes her head, expert hands never slowing as she rubs down their mounts. “They’ll check the roads first, the post stations where it’s likely we’d need to stop. And any groom worth his pay will know these are from the royal stables, which means he’ll be the first to tell them what he knows.” Her mouth gives a wry twist. “Horse thieves always pay well.”

“But we’re not...” Kiki spares her a long, dubious look. They certainly hadn’t asked to borrow a pair of His Majesty’s finest mounts. “Are you so sure there will be anyone coming after us? Izana said that if I left, that I would be-- I’d--”

It should go without saying-- even now, the burden of his gaze weighs on her-- if you break this agreement, there will not be another offer.

She clears her throat. “I don’t think he’d be sending anyone for me.”

“Not Izana.” Kiki stretches out the words with care, the kind that warns of a ‘but’ before it can round the corner. “But Zen will turn over the whole city to find you.”

“Ah...” She hadn’t accounted for that, no. Not for Zen, who so often complained of tied hands, of how his brother’s wants ran roughshod over his own, using what little power he could bring to bear. “But Izana would never let him. Not when he was so clear...”

“Which is why this will all happen so quickly.” Kiki turns to her, as grim and serious as she had been in the stables. “Before Izana can hear of it.”

Her fingers tremble against the trunk, bark biting into flesh to keep her upright. “N-no. He can’t do that. When Obi disappeared it took him weeks to even get a single search party...”

Beneath the black of her jacket, Kiki’s shoulders tense. She does not speak but brace, and that is enough to draw Shirayuki up short, to remember--

A knife strapped to a belt. A seed pressed into her hand. Ah, she’d forgotten how easily a healed wound can run fresh, if she only pulls off the scab. “But he never sent anyone. Not for Obi.”

“Shirayuki...” A sigh soughs through her teeth. “We should go.”

But it cannot last forever. There always comes a time where fear banks, when tempers have cooled and the ceaseless war drum of the heart fades. And all that is left...

Is you.

Day fades into night again before Kiki allows them to truly rest, not just pause to catch a breath or let the horses drink. Their pace had been slow through the forest, careful as they picked their way along the knotted trails, but their mounts are exhausted, pulling at their leads as they plod into the clearing. Shirayuki can hardly blame them; she nearly balks until Kiki reaches for her, more falling from the saddle than dismounting it.

No matter how she might insist that she bore the mark of Tanbarun in her strong shoulders, or that heaving bags of soil from the cart to the greenhouse made her as capable as any of the male scholars, Shirayuki is hardly heavy. A girl her size might make Suzu stagger-- I can’t leave him on the walls by himself, Obi had confided once, grin peeking over his scarf, he’s got more in common with a sail than stone-- but even with the brunt of her weight slumping over her like a sack, Kiki is only driven back a step, solid when she plants her on the ground.

“You’ll have to forgive the accommodations,” she huffs, one half of her mouth hooking into a smirk. “I’m afraid it falls just short of royal.”

There’s no silk sheets or pillows of down, that’s for certain. But Kiki lays out her cloak to cover the soft sponge of the forest’s undergrowth, plumping her pack to make a kissing cousin to a pillow, and oh, what Shirayuki would have given for such luxuries during that breathless flight across the border, all those years ago. She stumbled upon that forgotten manor after a half dozen nights of only rocks and roots to lay her head on, with just that little hood to keep her warm.

“Ah, don’t worry about me,” she murmurs, unclasping her own cloak from around her neck. “I’ve slept on worse.”

Kiki’s smile stretches tight over her teeth. “Of course.”

Never one to need to fill the air with noise when silence would do, Kiki gathers their leads, nickering quietly at their mares as they tamp at the ground, impatient. Lata had taught her how to care for tack-- as any good horseman should, he sniffed, turning up his nose at the university’s groom-- but there’s a practiced efficiency to Kiki’s movements, almost meditative, that suggest any of her fumbling might only get in the way.

Still, Shirayuki isn’t about to stand idle. Not anymore.

��If you’re going to take care of the horses...” Her slippers shuffle, uncertain, beneath the hem of her skirt. “Should I gather some wood for--?”

“No fire.”

Shirayuki blinks. Wistal may be warm, even into its winters, but its nights still grow cold late in the season, enough that some mornings leave a lick of frost on the windowpanes. “But it will get cold soon. The sun’s already--”

Kiki shakes her head, sharp. “We can’t risk the smoke.”

She doesn’t so much snap as rasp, a dire note scraping her voice raw. Kiki has stood tall before kings and traitors both, and yet her whisper is nothing more than a live nerve that her desperation skins open. And it-- it seems so silly. They aren’t running from some first’s prince’s wounded pride, from four dozen of the kingdom’s most loyal knights and a half dozen dogs, but...

“But it’s only Zen.” It’s strange that she’s the one to say it, that in this twilight of her escape, she’s the one to speak sense. “He won’t hurt us. He’ll just...”

“Convince you.”

Her mouth falls slack. “I...?”

“Zen loves you.” It’s stunning how easily Kiki can say such a thing when Zen never had, when it had always been something hidden in the wrinkles of his smile or the longing in his eyes. “The fear has never been that he would hurt you. It is that you will listen.”

Shirayuki wants to protest, to say there would be nothing he could say to convince her to abandon Obi now that she’s set herself on his trail--

But even now her heart leaps to her throat not in dread but anticipation as she imagines Zen stepping into the light of their fire. Hope sears as he kneels before her, the fire casting his pale hair golden as he tells her, it’s all been a mistake. The anguish would turn itself to earnest apology in his eyes, and he would say that they can do this together, if only she would come back with him, if only she would stand by his side.

A breath shudders from her lungs, so full of wanting it burns.

It is so easy to say that she would not turn her back on Obi again, but three months ago, she would have sworn no one could get her to forsake him the first time.

“Right,” she rasps, chest tender beneath the hand she presses to it. “No fire.”

Oh, how easy it is for the doubts to set in, when it is only your tender heart to stand against them.

These are not Lilias’ nights, so cold that even a warm pan beneath the pallet and a heap of furs can’t keep the chill out, but they do have to press close beneath the weight of her cloak, tucking it tight around their shoulders and back, scrunching to keep their feet beneath it. It’s hardly the first time she’s had to huddle for warmth under the blankets, tucking deep into open arms to keep out the elements, but she’s used to a warmer body beside her, a furnace wrapped in flesh. And Kiki, well--

What do you expect? Obi lilts into her ear, as soft as he always spoke beneath the stars. Miss Kiki’s got a reputation to keep.

Her body is weary, bruised and battered from the ride, but even still-- her heart leaps when Kiki lays next to her, the sweet scent of lilac wafting from where her hair knots at the back of her neck. For a moment, it feels like that night so long ago, when snow had pressed at the inn’s windows, and her heart had raced from how close she had come to-- to something in that room. Not with Kiki, but with Zen, the pillows collapsing in among them and the urgency to see, to know had pressed her in for that next kiss. Her lips stung from it, tingled, and she had wanting nothing more than to say something, to ask if it was right that she felt so torn between her head and her heart.

But instead she had stared at the nape of Kiki’s neck, where her hair parts around skin like waves around a breaker, and worried. The same as she does tonight, as she does the next, and the night after. She is a font of concerns, an endless well of anxiety that burbles through the early morning hours, ceaseless until the sun rises.

You understand, don’t you? Even now, she feels Kiki’s fingers at her ankle, a single thoughtful tap on her boot. What all this might cost when it’s over?

If you break this agreement, Izana warns her, his tone implying fine print, there will not be another offer.

Think about what you might lose, the silence urges her, sounding more like Kiki than any words ever have. Think about what you might not get back.

Her fingers clench tight in the wool of Kiki’s tunic. But what about you? she wants to ask into the soft skin of her nape. What do you lose, coming with me?

Kiki is a royal knight, an aide to the second prince, the heir to Seiran. Soon to be married, too, after her father’s summit. One so important that it even peeled Zen’s aides from him, one Kiki herself is supposed to be handling the arrangements for.

And yet here she is, with her. Because a princess needs her knight. Except Shirayuki has never wanted to be a princess, and Kiki...

Must have her reasons. Good ones. The kind Shirayuki wants to know, to understand--

But instead her body betrays her one last time, and all its anxiety abandons her for sleep.

Oh, how stories never speak of this part, of that space between the wanting and the knowing. A woman wakes from her thousand year slumber in the arms of her true love. Children outsmart a witch and find their way home without a single wrong turn.

A girl escapes the garden of a sorceress, and stumbles straight onto the trail of her boy. No doubts, no second thoughts, no leads that have gone cold over the long months she spent, a prisoner in paradise.

How much easier it must be to suffer knowing that there is purpose to it in the end. How much easier it is to go forward, when every step will lead you true.

It’s impossible for her to say how many days it take for them to travel through the forest, or how many more there are before Kiki leads her back to a road. Obi had always been the one with the map in his head, unerringly leading them through hill and dale and drift; Shirayuki had only followed, putting her boot prints beside his own, a matched set.

It’s only the hangings above the inn’s door that give her pause when they pass it, that remind her that they’ve been here before. They’d run across this very courtyard with rain dogging their heels, standing in front of the desk soaked entirely to the skin. The five of them, traveling back from Tanbarun, breaths caught up in laughter as they skidded to a stop in the tile. It’s impossible, she thinks, that they could have been so young only such a short time ago.

“How about it then?” Kiki grunts, voice rough from disuse. “Would you like a bed tonight?”

Her back would certainly appreciate it. “They had baths here, too, didn’t they?”

For the first time in days, Kiki’s mouth curls toward a smirk. “You know, I think they did. Good ones, too.”

Strange, is it not, how we never know the precise moment the story finds us again?

Steam curls thick in the air, a palpable curtain between her and the bath. A welcome one; it’s been so long since Shirayuki last removed her dress that the cuffs stick to her wrists. It’s a miracle of the humidity-- and her own ingenuity-- that it peels away, leaving pink skin in its wake.

“Oh.” The warmth of the bath clings to her as thick as any cloak, coaxing out a sigh. “Where...?”

“Leave it,” Kiki urges her from farther in. “The maids will look after it. If there’s anything that can save those things.”

She hums, uncertain, letting the fabric hang from her fingers. This is her own sweat, her own mess; it hardly seems right to expect someone to clean it...

But she wants to deal with it even less. “All right.” The gown drops into the fog, lost. “I’m coming.”

When it is not just our own will that moves us forward, but the narrative, pushing us inexorably to the next turn of the page.

It’s a good, solid scrubbing that Shirayuki gives herself; she’s no stranger to the sort of dirt that a body can gather over a day’s work, but this, this is a week’s accumulation of grime and filth. It doesn’t wash away so much as flake, chipped off by the application of horsehair and grit until the only think left is pink, scoured skin beneath.

“We’re alone,” Kiki assures her through the partition, one pale foot sliding a sudsy bucket beneath. “If you want.”

Shirayuki blinks for a moment, staring down at the bubbles uncomprehending--

“Oh.” She reaches up, unwinding the towel from her head. It’d be generous to call what’s under it brown, let alone red, but with a good wash, well... “Thank you.”

Kiki hesitates. “I’ll meet you in the bath.”

Even in the most mundane of moments, the times in which we feel the most off the trodden path, lost and left with only our hopes to guide us, we can be so close that only a step would traverse the space between. That only a breath could speak it into being.

How many times must we come close to relief, and then never know it? How many doors must close while we hope for a mere window, all unknowing?

If Shirayuki had thought the steam thick before, it is nothing to how it rises from the actual bath. It might well be a curtain for how well it shields the edge from her; she risks a few toes at first to feel for it, and with a steeling breath, sinks a whole foot right down to the knee.

It’s hot, enough that the fresh skin these prickles with pain before the heat soothes it away. Her other leg follows, then the rest of her, sinking down into its warm embrace.

As much as it stings, it’s pleasant as well. As if she’s been made new again, the Shirayuki of the palace washed away, and leaving behind only her.

And then, when we least expect it--

“Caw, caw,” the crow says, swooping down to the little girl, “Good day, good day, little one, what brings you here?”

“Well, well, well.” A lithe body slides into the pool, tawny trailing after her like a comet’s tail. “Didn’t think I’d find a fine young miss like you here.”

--We are found once again.

For better or for worse.

#obiyukibingo23 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #fairy tale au #all that remains #snow queen au #my fic #ans #this took so long because i truly wanted to join back up with the story frame before it finished #and i tortured myself for SO LONG thinking this chapter wouldn't be long enough without it #and then like halfway through the first scene i was like #oh no the whole pacing of this chapter is literally like...an interlude #the point is that this is the part of the story where the narrative has abandoned shirayuki #because this isn't the INTERESTING part #and it can only come back in at the end #YES IT TOOK ME LIKE 7 MONTHS TO REALIZED THIS #I DUN WANNA TALK ABOUT IT

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realtacuardach · 2 years

Text

Sea Glass and Pearls

Entry for The Mermaid/Selkie Wife (Day 2) of Obiyuki Week 2022 @snowwhite-andtheknight

~~~

The marketplace rumbled around the woman in a pleasant cacophony as she drew closer to the stall. Pulling a pomegranate from one of the baskets lining the fruit vender’s cart, she brought it towards her face and breathed deeply. The smell of the ripe fruit blended pleasingly with the smell of the sea lapping against the shore, and the feeling soothed her as she tucked the fruit into her basket.

After paying, she walked down the aisle of market stalls, pausing in her path to examine a flower or pungent bundle of herbs. Market goers flooded the streets, waves of people ebbing and flowing around her as she walked, and she felt at peace.

By the time she stopped to finally sit and rest, the clamor of the marketplace was nearly drowned out by the continuous crashing of the waves against the rock where the castle perched in all its glory. Along the road lay a beautiful ledge of stone lining the edge of the cliffs. The woman brushed away the strands of red hair blowing into her face and sat down on the stone ledge. She looked out over the broad expanse of the sea, deep and wide and mysterious, and her stomach clenched. Hastily, she broke open the pomegranate and began to eat, hoping the fruit would quell the pangs.

A shadow fell across the stone beside her, and she looked back to see where a man stood watching the sea. A little uneasy around strangers still, she shifted slightly away from him, hoping he would not notice.

If he did, he didn’t speak of it. Instead, he continued to gaze into the sea and murmured about how beautiful it looked today. The woman followed the pull of his words, nearly as strong as the pull of the sea, and looked out as well.

She agreed, sighing, that it was indeed very beautiful.

The man settled beside her on the stone ledge, near enough for her to hear his voice clearly but not so close as to disturb her basket. He hummed tunelessly under his breath, and even amongst the crashing of the waves and the crying of the gulls, the sound thrummed through her blood.

Her curiosity overpowered her fascination with the sea and she turned to look at him.

As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned from the sea and looked back at her. He smiled and remarked at how the sea seemed to draw her in as well.

She nodded, blushing a little, although she was unsure why.

The man leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered of a treasure he’d found by the sea that very day. His brow arched, and he asked if she would like to see it.

Again, she nodded, and watched in fascination as the man reached into the pocket of his threadbare coat and reverently pulled out a gorgeous conch shell.

She exclaimed, heart catching in her throat, as she watched the shell gleam in the noonday sun.

The unfamiliar man smiled an unfamiliar smile, and carefully placed the shell between them. He bid her pick it up, if she desired.

Slowly, she reached forward and curled her hands around the conch, her fingers catching and settling in the grooves. It felt complete in her hands, and she surprised herself with the tears welling in her eyes as she thanked the man.

The man shrugged off the thanks, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure. He asked if she knew that if she held it to her ear, she could hear the ocean?

She laughed out loud, and replied that she could hear the ocean without the shell.

The man exclaimed and leaned forward, asking if that was true. In response, she waved a hand towards the ocean and looked at him with a cheeky smile.

He barked a laugh in response, although the gleam in his eyes dimmed. There might be more shells just like that one, he confided to her. He had been thinking of going in search of more. His smile tentative, a little shy, the man asked if she would like to accompany him in his search.

Her conscience pricked her as she shook her head. She pleaded for his forgiveness, but she could not go to the ocean. Although she would love to search for more shells – especially in this man’s company, she could admit secretly to herself – she had promised that she would not return to the water.

Although she could not remember what had brought her to the shore, the young man who had found her and brought her to his home to recover said that she had been lying just beyond the reach of the waves. At first, he had seen the large wound on her head through the tangle of sand-streaked and sea-soaked hair, and had feared the worse. But then, she had breathed, and the young man had rescued her. The young man feared that whatever had become her, it had come from the sea, and feared for her safety. She herself could not tell him what had happened, for everything from before she had been found was murky and unfathomable.

With reluctant gratitude, she had agreed. Promises aside, it was hard to directly disobey the land’s prince.

The strange man looked intently at her as she explained, and the gold of his eyes gleamed beseechingly, pleadingly. His gaze glittered like the edge of the sea touched by the blazing sun, and the woman felt its pull.

The strange man held out his hand, and murmured with a smile–

“Won’t you go with me to the sea, my lady?”

Almost without her bidding, the woman reached toward the outstretched hand – and then started. The enthusiastic call from the prince echoed across the cliffs, and she could see him making haste from the castle towards her. She turned to face him, half-raising her hand in greeting before looking back at the strange man apologetically.

But he was gone.

Her open hand ached, and she gripped the conch tightly, to see if it was truly real, before tucking it hastily away in her basket. She rose to greet the prince.

~~~

It was strange to the woman that she could never truly get warm.

Even now, sitting by an ornate fireplace, she couldn’t prevent herself from shivering as she watched the maid the prince had assigned to her bustle to and fro. As much as she still had to learn about castle life, the woman knew the expectations placed on her for her debut were high, but her maid appeared even more nervous than she was.

The glittering woman staring back at her in the mirror looked unfamiliar, and she reached forward to touch the reflection, fingers gliding over the ornate embroidery of the gown, the jeweled pins sticking in her hair, the bright color spread across her cheeks.

She shivered again, and the maid squawked in matronly frustration. The maid glared at the pile of discarded furs in a nearby chair that, for all their thick fur and warm linings, had not provided enough relief against the cold. Not to be deterred, the maid dug into the back of a wardrobe, and exclaimed with pleased surprise. She brought a bundle over to the woman, draping it carefully around her shoulders.

Warmth settled over her, and the woman sighed with relief as her fingers stroked the material. The touch felt familiar beneath her fingers, the cape somehow both comfortable and cloying, and she peered carefully at it.

The maid smiled proudly and assured her that, while not new, the cape was made of good quality sealskin.

The force with which the woman flung the skin startled the both of them, and the woman stared at it for a few moments. She stammered a plea for forgiveness, she was unsure what had come over her. The woman apologized for taking up so much of the maid’s time, but declared she would go without a cape or fur.

Feeling strangely naked, she stepped out of the room to where the prince waited to escort her to the ball. His appreciative gaze warmed her enough to smile back, but as they made their way down the corridor, cold seeped into her bones at the memory of the discarded cape.

The prince managed two dances with her before his chancellors swept him away from an urgent discussion. Disappointment that her hours of dance practice were going to waste blended with relief that she could rest her aching feet, and she carefully slid away from the party and out towards an unoccupied balcony. Propping herself on the railing in a way that would have made her etiquette instructor weep, she kicked off one shoe and wiggled her toes, moaning in satisfaction. She bent down to remove the other shoe when another pair of shoes entered her field of vision.

Mortified that she had been caught, she jerked upright, nearly upsetting the trays of drinks the server balanced adroitly in one hand. Hastily, she started to apologize when a familiar bark of laughter cut her off.

The golden-eyed man stood in front of her, cutting as fine a figure in the formal uniform as he had that day months ago by the sea. She exclaimed in surprised recognition, and the smile spread even further across his face.

Irrational frustration flooded her for a moment. It had been so long since she’d seen him that she could have thought his appearance was a detailed daydream, if not for the conch shell perched on the table by her bedside.

The woman swallowed down the frustration she had no right to feel and, smiling, asked what the man was doing at the ball.

Smirking, the man raised his tray, and the woman blushed.

The man’s eyes lost a bit of their mirth, and he put down the tray. Turning to her, his fingers stretched out through the space between them before he moved his hands with an effort to his sides.

He asked after her health, to which she replied that she was well, although she shivered as she said it. The man leaned towards her before apparently thinking better of it and instead faced the edge of the balcony.

The ocean continued its lapping against the rocks, the crests of the waves silver in the moonlight.

Bare feet whispering against the fine marble floor of the balcony, the woman stepped beside him and joined in the perusal of the sea. The man took a deep breath that gusted out into a sigh, and the woman looked up into his face. His gaze was liquid with longing as he stared into the distance.

Quietly, she asked after his health.

The man looked down at her, the longing in his eyes glowing mournfully. He assured her of his health, but admitted a lingering sadness that they had not been able to go to the sea. He apologized for his selfishness and reached into the pocket of his fine coat, pulling out a pristine piece of green sea glass.

Exclaiming in delight, the woman thanked the man and closed her fingers around it. Even in the moonlight, she could see red burning through his tanned skin and grinned, her heart thumping pleasantly.

He stared down at her with an intensity that made her mouth dry and took a deep breath. Reaching a hand out once more, eyes pleading, he asked,

“Won’t you go with me to the sea, my lady?”

Longing to go with him, to go to the sea nearly overwhelmed her, her heart bobbing up and down in her chest. She could not deny how badly she wished to follow his summons.

But neither could she deny her promise.

Speaking the words pained her, but not as badly as watching his face drop as he stepped to the side, away from her. Attempting a smile that could not hide the sorrow in his gaze, he murmured that he understood.

The woman was certain he did not understand, and she reached forward, desperate to hold his hand, to reassure him how badly she wanted to go to the sea with him.

Calling out expectantly, the prince pushed aside the curtains separating the balcony from the ballroom and stepped out into the moonlight. His eyes lit up with pleasure, and the woman smiled distractedly in response. Apologizing for his absence, the prince took her hand and squeezed it gently, asking if she wanted to dance again.

The woman laughed a little at herself, saying that she had taken off her shoes. Smiling warmly, the prince offered to help put them on. As the prince bent down to retrieve the shoes, the woman quickly glanced back in apology – but the man had left.

She gripped the glass tightly.

Having recovered her shoes, the prince lifted her nimbly onto the rail closest to the castle wall and knelt in front of her. Delicately, he slid her foot into the shoes, securing them snugly in place. He looked up grinning, but then frowned. Seeing the tears slide down her cheeks, he asked if the shoes were too tight.

No, she assured him. The breeze of the sea was making her eyes sting.

~~~

The door closed smoothly behind the maids as they retreated into the corridor and left her to her privacy. Turning carefully not to upset the elaborate crown anchoring her veil to her head, the woman looked around the echoing, empty room, sitting heavily on the edge of her new vanity.

Vanity indeed, the ornate extravagance of the room still startled her when she allowed herself a moment to observe and process. The beautiful marble floor shone under the candlelight and moonlight seeping through the curtains leading to the balcony. Rich silks draped around the large bed, a bed that she would soon share with the prince.

Her heart began to pound, and her fingers trembled as they worked into the fine pearls sewed into the bodice of her gown. Frustration at her own ingratitude choked her and she reminded herself that the prince had been everything kind and good and patient, and had promised to wait for as long as she needed.

His love for her had shone in his eyes as he had kneeled before her and asked for her hand. Not wanting her to lack for anything, he showered her with affection, with smiles, with jewels. Upon learning how much she'd loved flowers and herbs, he'd kept vases filled with them in her bedchambers. Now, on the eve of the wedding, his love blossomed and spilled from vases brimming with blooms on every surface.

She breathed in the air to steady herself, and the perfume of the combined flowers nearly overwhelmed her. Running her fingers across a long-stemmed rose that brushed against a dress, she sighed at the lack of comfort the touch usually brought her. She walked slowly through the room, the click of her heels echoing as she stepped out into the fresh, salt-tinged air of the balcony.

The woman sat on the railing and looked out across the sea, willing the crashing of the waves to soothe the maelstrom in her mind. The wind set her veil aloft behind her before blowing it into her face. She blinked through the fine lace and carefully removed her crown, fingers catching on the precious stones. Folding the veil slowly and carefully, she lay it on the railing beside her and placed the crown on top.

Emeralds and fine cultured pearls glittered in the silver moonlight, and the woman felt cold. The beauty of the crown was beyond compare, but it felt alien to her. Rather than the perfection that the prince insisted on gifting her, she had to admit to herself in her solitude that she preferred imperfect pearls and transparent sea glass.

Memory of the sea glass tucked securely away in the back of her drawer and of the man who gave it to her flooded her mind, and she blinked back the blur of emotion. It had been so many months ago, but the expression on his face and the longing in his eyes remained as distinct to her as though he had just left her.

If she closed her eyes, she felt that she could imagine him beside her.

A throat cleared tentatively, cautiously.

Her eyes shot open and she spun on the railing to look behind her. Standing just beyond the balcony was the golden-eyed man, smiling at her and holding something between his clasped hands.

She breathed out a greeting in mingled surprise and joy, and admitted that she thought she would never see him again. The tears dripping down her face startled her, and she raised a hand against the wetness.

The man, starting forward at the sight of tears, slowed his pace but continued his way closer. He apologized for interrupting her, but confessed that he had to see her before... Pausing to slow his sudden torrent of words, he took a breath and held up his hands toward her. A wedding present, he offered, and looked miserable.

Stepping down from the railing, the woman slowly walked to where the man stood, shoulders slightly hunched, and looked down at his gift. A bundle of kelp and sea moss, still damp from the ocean, with a strand of freshwater pearls gleaming imperfect and beautiful spun around them.

Her breath catching, the woman reached forward to take the gift into her hands and her fingers slid over the damp fronds before they met the warm smoothness of his skin.

Recognition shot through her like a bolt of lightning, and she stumbled. The bundle of saltwater plants fell to the side as she fell, the man darting forward, eyes full of panic to catch her. He guided her gently into a sitting position to the floor, and she leaned her head against the shoulder.

The man looked down, murmuring concerns for her health, asking if he could get her anything.

The woman looked up, eyes gleaming with tears and joy and recognition. You, she breathed, her fingers reaching up to cup the man's face, it's you.

Chest stilling as though he forgot how to breathe air, the man stared down at her. You, he whispered, you remember?

The woman nodded, fingers grazing the sides of his familiar-unfamiliar face as she stared into his eyes that had always remained the same, their warmth burning in the depth of her soul. A little, she admitted, I remember you.

His arms wrapping around her, he held her tight, burying his face in her shoulder. How I have missed you, he sighed fervently into her skin and she shivered pleasantly. I thought I had lost you forever.

Breathing in the salt warmth of his skin, she apologized for making him long almost without hope for so long.

He assured her that it was not her fault. If she had been any less curious about the plants of the surface world, she wouldn't have been the woman he loved. He could not blame her for her eagerness to shed her self and seek new knowledge, or for the unsteadiness of flipper-less feet on sand that led her to fall.

He could, however, blame himself for not being fast enough to catch her, or to encounter her before the surface world prince had happened upon her vulnerable state.

Anger seeped into his tone, and she swept her fingers soothingly over his neck. He was good to me, she promised softly, he never did anything beyond propriety.

I cannot blame him for loving you, he grumbled. However, he could not forget the horror he had felt as he had watched the prince obliviously order his servant to pick up the discarded pelt even as he carried her away from the sea, away from him.

Perhaps the young prince did not know the significance of the pelt. The people of the land seemed to forget the truths of the ocean sooner than its people did. But if he knew--

The woman pulled back from her embrace to cup his face in her palms, running her fingers across his brow, softening his glare as he melted at her touch. She longed to take away the fear and hurt still in his gaze, and she leaned up towards him, bringing his lips to hers.

The sensation, both new and familiar, sent waves of heat through her body, and his arms tightened around her as he returned the kiss. The prince's kisses, although sweet and pleasurable in their own way, could never compare to the feeling of completeness, of a puzzle piece finally setting place, of her soul becoming whole once more.

She laughed through her tears, saying it felt strange to kiss these lips. He pulled back, and the vulnerability in his eyes made her breath catch and her grip tighten around his neck, longing for him to understand. She breathed that it was strange but wonderful, and leaned in to kiss him again.

The man confessed to her, as they half lay on the ground breathing in deep of the ocean air, that he had nearly given up hope. That he had searched and searched and searched for her precious pelt, but to no avail. He attracted enough attention at the start from the people of the kingdom as he wandered erratically, and it had taken precious time to learn their customs and blend in among them. As time passed, he even feared that, with her memory gone, she had come to love another -- and how could he tear her away from someone who brought her joy.

He hung his head, although the glint in his eyes was more jubilant than sorrowful. He admitted that he continued to search unceasingly for the pelt, even in the wake of his diminishing hopes. But, he leaned his forehead against hers, she remembered.

Yes, she agreed, finally.

And he had found the pelt, in the wardrobe, finally.

The man pulled back, the woman protesting a little at the absence of his warmth, and held out one hand towards her.

"Won't you come with me to the sea, my love?"

She took his hand.

"Yes."

The maids came not long after to ready their mistress for bed and to carefully remove the fine gown for tomorrow's festivities. They found it lying neatly over the back of a chair by the vanity, where the crown gleamed on the folded lace on the veil. A small note lay next to the crown, addressed to the prince.

As the prince ran to the summons of the maids, just out of view of the balcony ran two figures hand in hand across the beach.

The laughter echoing across the coast sounded nearly human, but when the prince walked along the shore the next day to gather his thoughts, only the marks of flippers could be found.

#obiyukiweek22 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #shirayuki #obi #selkie wife #fairytale!au

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onedivinemisfit · 4 years

Photo

Ans indulgent next!gen bbs masterpooooooost~ >:)

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Art: Me

Akemi: Obi and Shirayuki’s oldest daughter, third oldest fan-kid in the lineup. Born in Lyrias, but raised in Wistal. With her dark hair, sharp eyes and natural owo face she’s clearly her daddy’s kid. Sneaky, unpredictable, a “jackdaw” with a tendency to take off with the shinies, and otherwise causing mischief during most of her waking hours, this is a most chaotic creature. Most. Chaotic.

Shigure: Obi and Shirayuki’s oldest son, 7th oldest fan-kid, and born in Wistal (born by c-section, Garack was midwife -- it was a bloody affair, Shirayuki doesn’t remember much, and Obi would prefer to keep it that way) Russet-haired, heavily freckled and eyes like his mother, Shigure is a precious little bab who defy his own weakly constitution by loving the outdoors and asking unending questions about nature and plants and animals.

Michiru: Mitsuhide’s only son by Torou, second oldest kid in the line-up, Micchi was the accidental result of a desperate, short-lived affair between his parents (Kiki was due to wed and Mitsuhide, amid his self-deprecation, indulged in Torou’s no-strings-attached intimacy) Born in a hospital “somewhere in the far south”, Mitsuhide remained unaware of his natural son for years, as Torou had too much integrity to burst into the halls of Seiran like some vindicated mistress. Michiru is street-smart, and well-traveled despite his youth due to his mother’s vocation, even a tad bratty - it’s his developing brattiness that leads Torou to finally concede and introduce him to the rest of his family, hoping it’ll help him put down roots, belong somewhere, and become better for it.

Nakuru: Kiki’s daughter by her first husband, Hisame, fourth oldest fan-kid. Born, as was proper, at home on the Seiran estate - but she was barely a couple months old before her father went and pulled his Evil Snake Act, was branded a traitor, and got himself executed. Nakuru only knows Mitsuhide to be her dad, having come into her life so early as he did, marrying her mother the moment decorum would let them do so, and when the whispers behind her backs about her “black blood” gets the better of her, Nakuru wishes he really was her dad. Shy and introverted she prefers to stay at home, reading, and sewing, and spending time with her family.

Kirika: Mitsuhide and Kiki’s daughter, 6th oldest fan-kid, happened to be born in a barn because she came early -- or so they insist, afterall her parents had only been married seven months... The math never added up. Ever-cheerful, always energetic and smiling a beaming smile winning her the majority vote wherever she goes, Kirika is a piece of walking sunshine. However, those who annoy her, or hurt her loved ones, face the wrath of a natural born momma bear. How a tiny speck of a girl can trash people twice her size is anyone’s guess. Kiki just wishes she’d wait till after teatime.

Hakuya: Izana and Haki’s first-born son, and oldest fan-kid. Heir to the Wisteria crown, with beautiful features, and a sharp intellect, this is a perfectionist in the making, already stiff with protocol and expectation. Also hilariously tactless at times, born from bashful naiveté, and is very much his momma’s little boy - when nobody’s watching.

Touma: Izana and Haki’s second son, the “royal spare”, or not, because Touma, despite his being a child, has already realized nobody would accept a mute for a king. Even the unofficial court made up of courtier’s children can be a struggle when you lack for speech. He’s determined to make up for it, practicing sign language and working on gestures - oftentimes mirroring duke Haruka’s demeanour since it’s so. effective. A boy does what a boy must. 5th oldest fan-kid.

Umi: Izana and Haki’s oldest daughter, and the older of their twins. Supremely adorable, yet silently judging you. Deceptively covered in cute, she plays tea party like a strategist preparing for war, affects sweetness as a mask to shield how little she thinks of you, and while too much a child to realize to what extent, already the world has lost its rosy hue to her eyes. That Izana’s sweetest child should be the one to inherit most of his cynicism was a surprise even to the monarch. Her and her brother are the 10th youngest fan-kids.

Zenji: Izana and Haki’s youngest son, and the younger twin. Obviously named for his uncle, because of the uncanny likeness, as Zenji also sports the trademark silvery hair that runs in the Wisteria line. A dreamy, spaced-out kid for the most part, Zenji is happy to be dragged along with his sister’s antics, playing, spying on his older brothers, nagging his parents, and so on, and so forth. Happy to stay blissfully unaware of the real world, for the time being.

Chize & Miza: Suzu and Yuzuri’s hellspawn, otherwise known as their identical twin girls. Coincidentally conceived, and delivered, on the same table, or so Yuzuri insists (Shirayuki still can’t put her teacup down on the table in their parlour without choking slightly on this knowledge) The twins are devious and cunning wrapped in two nearly identical packages, their unnerving, heterochromatic eyes the only feature with which you can tell them apart. As such they are feared as much as they are doted on by the college of Lyrias, where they have practically been raised their entire lives, due to their antics. Chize is the sweeter girl, and Miza the mature one, according to Suzu. The 8th youngest fan-kids.

Teru: Zen and Kihal’s only son, and the youngest of all the fan-kids. His birth defied the expectations of his parents, as they had come to regard themselves as forever childless. Zen had never felt the acute need for children of his own, but neither he nor Kihal expected the soul-shattering relief they felt when Teru came into the world, like being granted something you no longer even dared hope for. Teru takes after his mother’s side of the family, but his stamina is surely a combination of both, because his source of energy appears endless. His zoomies can go on for hours. Kihal has resigned herself to the fact he can be everywhere, and nowhere, at the same time. All the time.

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #nextgen fankids #original characters #obiyuki #mitsutorou #hisakiki #mitsukiki #hakizana #suzuri #kihazen #I like kids #ergo #I make nextgen kids #some names may change #if better ones are discovered xD #myart

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thecatwhogrins · 4 years

Text

The Red-Haired Maiden, the Little Wolf and the Firebird

A little Obiyuki firebird au fic for Obiyukimadness20, please enjoy!

Tsarevitch Raji Shenazade has demanded to see a Firebird.

A rumor had been spreading throughout the kingdom, from village to village, till it had reached the glistening towers of St. Petersburg. There, the rumour had spread like wildfire, and soon enough it caught the attention of the grandson of the great Tsar. The young noble was entitled to demand such things, even if this meant that many men would die trying to achieve this. If it is his will, it shall be done.

“Only a spoiled princeling like him would send his subordinates chasing after an old maid's tale", thought Obi bitterly as he shivered in the cold.

Obi was one of such attendants, the son of a skilled hunter, and the best one at that. But he was of a lower birth status, and this could be felt in the way the other young nobles looked at him. Obi simply let them do what they wanted, his attention was all on tracking the god forsaken bird. If he did not find the bird, he knew the princeling would throw out men from the throne room windows and behead the rest. Although Obi didn’t particularly like any of the snobby noble men or spineless servants, he did value his own life and the prize that had been promised if he succeeded in this task.

Freedom.

And so, this was the reason why a pack of young and not so young noblemen and servants scoured the thick forest on the edge of the eastern border of the kingdom, boot-clad feet deep in thick blankets of snow. They walked in a single file, the younger ones were rowdier and made much more noise. Obi stuck to the front, his footfalls as silent as a wolf's, his ears perking at every sound. Tracking a bird that no one has never seen was not an easy task, to say the least. His full attention was on finding a sign, any kind of sign to prove that the bird existed.

“Don’t go too far ahead, Volchonak, we don’t all run on all fours like you.” One of the men shouted, mocking Obi who simply let it go.

Volchonak, little wolf.

That nickname was better than others he had been called in the past. At least this evoked something to be feared, to be reckoned with. Obi simply advanced, leaving behind him the childish nobles.

As night encroached upon the trees, the group set up camp and lit a bonfire to ward off any nightly visitors from surprising them in their sleep. One of the younger nobles called Ryuu Ivanovitch was to be on sentry duty with Obi and had visibly never done such work before. He peered into the only darkness nervously but with a dignified countenance as he sat down next to Obi under a huge pine tree. They sat at the foot of a huge fir, both wearing as many layers of clothes they could, bundled up until only their eyes and noses could be seen. As the other nobles started to go to sleep, one of Ivan’s friends passed him and snickered.

“Ryuu Ivanovitch! Don’t get lost in the forest now, Baba Yaga might just snatch you up and eat you.” He laughed and continued towards the snow hole he’d be sleeping in. Ryuu pouted, displeased, and Obi rolled his eyes while his thumb strokes the hilt of his hunting knife. Obi was less preoccupied with Baba Yaga and more worried about wolves or bears, not that he would tell the young nobleman next to him. The last thing he needed to deal with during the night would be a panic-stricken pup clinging onto him. But it would be funny to tease him.

“Decisions, Decisions...” Obi sighed and looked towards the tree line a few meters away.

Obi's keen eyes suddenly caught something glistening a few meters away. It glowed like the gold that decorated the throne room. He rushed over to the object and found a single golden feather with bright red edges. It looked nothing like any kind of feather he had ever seen. It had melted slightly the snow around it but didn’t look hot anymore. Obi still hesitated to take it. He finally gingerly picked it up between gloved fingers. The feather was still slightly warm and shone brightly. It looked almost like an ornament a skilled craftsman had forged and dropped onto the snowy forest ground.

As Obi looked up a quiet sound resounded above his head. High above him, perched on a tree branch, sat a girl. She wore a necklace made of the same kind of feather Obi held in the palm of his hands. Her hair was a brilliant red, it glowed like a beacon in the frigid night air. She was staring at him curiously and the bonfire added a radish hue upon her face. She looked positively fiery, as though she herself was in fact the fire bird, a notion Obi refused to consider.

“Um...hello there miss?” he called up to her.

Ryuu looked up from where he sat at the base of the tree. His black brows furrowed but he did not utter a word. He suddenly cried out in alarm at the same time as the woman in the tree:

“Volchonak! Be careful!”

Obi barely had time to react as he suddenly was tackled to the ground by a creature, fur and weight and warmth smothering him. A row of sharp teeth snapped near his throat, nearly missing him.

It was a wolf.

How ironic.

He couldn’t make it out completely in the dying fire’s light, but it was huge and fierce. Its paws scratching at him as he grappled with it, avoiding its maw. They struggled in the snow, the beast was snarling, Obi was making almost inhuman desperate noises as desperately trying to get his hunting knife. The other men had also woken up, alarmed by all the noises and by Ryuu screaming.

The wolf suddenly got hold of the arm Obi was using to shield his face, and he hissed with pain. Fortunately, his teeth hadn’t sunk in too deep, but the pain was still intense. Obi glared at him, eyes locking with his adversary’s. It felt like a lifetime had passed when Obi finally grasped his weapon and slashed at the wolf’s eye. It whimpered and let him go, backing away. Obi’s head was spinning, the frigid night air coming out in breathless gasps. The beast turned away and raced into the night.

The other men were also trying to fend off other wolves with their hunting equipment. There was one man already down, his crimson blood spilt over the cold ground. After a few more minutes of panic, they managed to steer them away. Obi observed this all lying on the snowy ground, it thick like a carpet but colder than hell.

From where he was lying down, his gaze met the woman’s as she huddled in the tree. There was a look of worry on her face as he slowly sat up. The knife was still held in his hand tightly, blood from his arm trailing down, warm and wet. Ryuu helped him to stand up completely, asking him if he was feeling well.

“Are you hurt?” the woman asked with a melodious voice.

“I’ll survive,” obi answered, even though he still felt slightly light-headed.

After a few moments of silence, she asked another question:

“Are you here to see the fire bird?”

Obi hesitated slightly before answering.

“Wait, you know of the fire bird? What are you doing here? What is your name?” he asked.

“My name is Shirayuki, I live in the cottage not too far from here and I was out hunting for some herbs. I climbed this tree when the wolf attacked me, but it seems… I can’t get back down again.” She smiled sheepishly.

Obi’s brain worked double time as he tried to detect anything amiss in her story, but everything seemed a little too convenient. And that necklace… those were not normal feathers.

“Let me help you down, miss.” he smiled up at her. The time for questions would come later.

Obi directed her on where to put her hands and feet as Ryuu Ivanovitch watched silently next to him. The other men were all asleep and no other sounds disturbed the night but the wind howling and Obi’s calm voice. Shirayuki was about halfway down when suddenly the branch on which she was standing broke. Snow dropped heavily, her screamed filled the empty air and Obi suddenly found himself with an armful of red head and his arm was screaming in pain once more.

The night air turned silent again and Obi’s arms tightened around the young woman. Her green eyes were wide, still burning with fear and staring into Obi’s golden ones. Their breaths came out in puffs as they both calmed down. The whole camp full of groggy, grumpy men started to circle the three of them. Then, Shirayuki smiled, a small bright thing that grew more and more till she started to laugh. It was a bright sound, clear as bells in the middle of winter.

“Thank you for saving me, Volchonak.” She thanked him softly once she stopped laughing, “oh no! Your arm! I’m so sorry,” she quickly added, hastily getting out of his arms.

“You’re welcome miss.” He answered as he set her down. His heart was beating fast, but it wasn’t in fear. He gripped his injury, trying to staunch the blood.

“What’s this girl doing in the middle of our camp at this ungodly hour of the night?” asked Alexei Vasiliev, one of the lords on the hunt.

“I’m not too sure”, said one of the older servant men, Andrei Popovitch, “but it looks like she might be one of our men’s women who’s come on the hunt.”

The other men laughed at this but suddenly one of them cried out in surprise.

“My lord, look at her neck, those feathers, aren’t they strange?”

Shirayuki looked down at her chest where the feathers glowed dimly in the light of the campfire.

“They are strange! Speak, girl, tell us where you found them!” exclaimed Alexei Popovitch.

“This necklace is made of the firebird’s feathers. He does not give them out freely, but I saved his life once so to repay this kindness, he gave these to me.” Shirayuki explained. Obi felt surprise and suspicion worm their way into him. Living in the palace, he had met many a man who would spin the wildest tales in hopes of pleasing whoever listened in hopes of a few roubles.

“You know where the firebird is?” Obi interjected.

“I don’t know where he is right now, if that’s what you’re asking me.” Shirayuki answered, “he doesn’t come to my bidding, he has a mind of his own. The firebird assists me when I heal people. He comes to me when I need him. But he is a fickle creature and doesn’t always come when I think he will.” She laughed slightly at this.

“You’re a healer, then?” Obi asked.

She explained how she grew up in the forest with her grandparents. Her grandfather was a woodcutter and her grandmother taught her how to recognize plants and how to use them to heal people. Many people from the surrounding villages would often come visit her grandmother, seeking her skills. She continued with her grandmother’s the family business and cured whoever came to her cottage in exchange of things she could not provide for herself such as food and other rare items. Throughout this story, Obi looked at Shirayuki and she seemed truthful, her eyes shining slightly when she spoke of her grandfather’s passing, her grief still apparent, a small smile nonetheless playing on her lips. A strange sadness gripped his own heart and Obi had to look away from her eyes.

“It’s my turn to ask questions now,” she said with an inquisitive smile, “why do you seek the firebird?”

Obi was silent for a moment, a heartbeat. Telling her the truth was risky.

“We are not seeking it for glory, if that is what is worrying you. In fact, we don’t have much of a say in the matter. Our lord wishes to see the bird. We are simply here to execute.” Obi explained.

Shirayuki cocked her head at him, her brows drawn in a frown.

“What will you do when you see it? Will you hurt it?”

“No, Tsarevich Raji only wishes to see it so we will capture it, bring it before his highness and set it free.” Alexei Vasiliev answered. The lie was obvious for anyone who lived with nobility. Obi tensed up. Shirayuki seemed to not believe the noble man and instead looked at Obi, with a slight tilt of her brow. Obi looked away, under her scrutiny he suddenly felt very small, very much like his nickname.

“Well, if that is all you wish to do, I might be able to summon the bird tomorrow, we simply must find its roosting nest on the top of the mountain.” She explained calmly.

“We shall sort this out in the morning. Everybody will wake up at dawn. Everybody go back to rest and if someone wakes me up again, so help me God, they will get a beating they shall remember.” said Alexei Vasiliev. The men grumbled and returned to their snow holes, shivering and cursing at the cold.

Only Obi, Ryuu and Shirayuki remained, an uncomfortable silence reigning. The next round of night watch brought out two more young hunters to take over. Obi let them take his place under the fir tree and headed towards his sleeping hole he would share with someone else. Ryuu, mostly silent during the whole interaction shuffled off sleepily towards his own sleeping hole. As Obi neared his resting spot, he realised Shirayuki was following him softly.

“Let me help you with your wound,” she said softly, bringing out herbs and other equipment out of a small satchel she wore.

“I’m sorry, this might hurt,” she said as she borrowed the deer skin full of alcohol and used it to drench his wound, disinfecting it. She then applied some herbs that smelled rather strongly, making Obi’s nose wrinkle in distaste. She finished by bandaging his arm quickly with a fresh piece of linen. Her hands on his skin were soft, almost too warm compared to the cold air. Her head was bowed, concentration etched on her features. Obi’s heart was once again racing. He was so distracted, he barely heard her when she voiced her request.

“Can I borrow your snow hole please? It’s too late for me to dig one myself” she asked softly. There was no trace of embarrassment like the blushing maidens back in the village would have had. Her crimson hair was all tussled from the wind and falling from a tree. Obi could even detect a few pine needles sticking out of it. A small smile played on her rosebud lips. Utterly charming. Obi swallowed hard.

“Of course, little miss. Let me just move over, make some space for you. Don’t want it to be too tight.” Obi almost winked and thought better of it. Shirayuki looked rather unfazed, probably missing the double entendre.

“Actually, when it’s this cold, it’s better to sleep closer together to retain the heat,” she said unabashedly. Obi almost choked.

“Yeah…Yes, you’re right! Come on, before we wake up anyone again.” Obi hurriedly said.

Shirayuki settled next to him, the bonfire did not illuminate the hole, so Obi could only see her profile outlined in the dark. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of the forest and Shirayuki’s light breathing. Obi was known to be a flirt, but he wasn’t accustomed to see a woman this unabashed.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

#obiyukimadness20 #fanfic #myfic #obiyuki #ans #russian myths au #ans snow white with the red hair #obiyukimadness2020 #after-action patch-up

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obsidiancorner · 5 years

Text

Celebrity Overnight- Chapter 1

Obiyuki Bingo 2019

Celebrity

Words: ~3400

Outside the heavily tinted windows of the limousine, she could see reporters and paparazzos lining the gallery behind long bands of scarlet rope and gilded posts. It was the most ridiculous tradition built into blockbuster premiers.

The familiar sense of dread that always accompanied such events began to creep under Shirayuki's skin. It crawled all over her body, tucked between flesh and muscle like the scarab beetle from that one scene in that one movie her father's company had made years ago.

Premiers and awards shows were a part of Hollywood fame and fortune she had never gotten used to. There was little to be done about attendance when her father owns Mountain Lions Studios, though. She grinned and beared it. But they never got more comfortable for her. She hated being in the public eye when all she wanted to do was study to become a doctor.

A warm hand wrapped itself around hers, squeezing slightly before twining its fingers with hers. She looked to her left to find questioning amber eyes blinking back at her.

"I'm fine," Shirayuki said. "I've just never gotten used to these things."

"Me neither," Obi replied, squeezing her hand once more.

The reassurance was nice, if futile. Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach, making her feel as though it would be an act of divine intervention if her dinner didn't make its own appearance at the premier, right there on the red carpet, as well.

Her stomach flopped heavily as the slow roll of the limo came to a stop. A third squeeze hugged her fingers and his comforting presence was gone. His door shut quietly behind him but the sound was deafening to ears dreading the guaranteed upcoming onslaught of shouts of her and Obi's names, camera flashes, and fussy ushers moving everyone along.

What was she doing attending the premier of her father's movie with the leading action star? She had no business being the woman on his arm. The man dated top tier fashion models and A-listers in both film and music . She was just an heiress with a dream of helping people. She was far from his type.

This wasn't a pairing that would be even remotely believable. What was she thinking?

No, what had her father and Obi's reps been thinking? And why was he going along with it?

No… Really... What was she thinking?

She wasn't. That's the hard truth. Her father had asked her to go and, along with Obi's team of 'people,' had orchestrated some extra publicity by having Obi be her escort and, because it was her father, she had obliged without really thinking it through. She willingly stepped into the eye roll worthy scheming of Hollywood politics.

What better way to drum up some extra buzz than to have the action star show up with the daughter of the film’s production company's owner on his arm. Talk of their "relationship" was guaranteed to be the talk of every gossip mag published within the week.

Couple that with well-staged photo ops of them at predetermined locations on predetermined days, where the paparazzi just "happen to be" in the right place at the right time to hit some perfectly angled shots of the two of them being cozy with each other, and Obi and her father's film, by extension, would be locked in as the talk of Tinsel Town for the duration of the summer.

Shirayuki dropped her head into her hands and groaned into her elbow-length gloves. Hollywood was a nightmare. The next few weeks dating an actor of all people would be a living hell. No wonder her mother had worked tirelessly to keep her out of the limelight when she was younger.

Her door opened and the roar of the gathered vultures was matched by the clicking of their camera shutters. Obi's hand and smiling face filled her vision. For a brief moment, she contemplated swinging the door closed and telling the driver to get her out of there as fast as he could.

"It's alright, Miss. There's nothing in your teeth, your dress is stunning, your makeup is flawless, your hair is still glued in place with hairspray, and I promise I won't let you fall." He flashed his brilliant white teeth at her, a smile full of confidence and charm.

She chuckled, relaxing slightly. At least he was smooth enough to say the right things to put a woman at ease before facing down a flock of cameras that truly do tell no lies. The last thing anyone should do is step out looking unsure.

With a deep breath in, she swung her legs out onto the pavement. She stood before she exhaled, smile plastered on her face like she was a debutante at her ball.

"Mr. Nanaki!"

"Shirayuki!"

The calls came from everywhere. All the way to the end of the horde, people were yelling their names. It was nothing any training could ever truly prepare someone for and, make no mistake, they did train celebrities for this sort of event. But she wasn’t really a celebrity.

She wound her arm around his proffered elbow and they began walking the handful of steps to the first of the photogs. They both stopped, working in tandem. Moving their faces and body positions from right to left, posing for each camera for a picture before taking a handful of steps and repeating the pattern.

She had gone through the same event training as the celebrities. She knew how it worked. She was just out of practice, having successfully made excuses to not attend premiers or awards for since she was sixteen.

Shirayuki's shoulders were stiff, muscles seizing and aching under the pressure of pulling off a faux romance. She kept reminding herself it was all political- a ploy for free movie publicity. She just needed to smile through it. It was a half hour of media pleasantries, then a movie.

It wasn't helpful. Just a stark reminder of the stakes should her own acting chops fall flat under the microscope. The only purpose it served was to increase her nerves, heart rate, and breathing.

Beside her, Obi leaned down, mouth near her ear. Somewhere in the distance, the cameras shuttered furiously, but she barely heard it over the warm breath fanning over the shell of her ear. In another context, it would have been intimate. Here, on the red carpet, it was a lifeline to sanity.

Shirayuki fought the urge to let her eyelids fall closed at the sensation- to focus solely on him. It had been a while since a man had been this far into her personal space. His muscles in the arm she was holding tensed under her fingertips as she squeezed lightly, hugging her hand between his arm and the side of his chest. She leaned in a little further, to play up their ruse. They were supposed to be a couple, afterall.

They’d never been seen together in public, so it would certainly have people wondering how long they’d been an item. After a well-placed brief pause to make the reporters speculate over what he could be saying to her, he whispered, “Picture them naked.”

That startled a laugh out of her. If comedy was how they would make it through the gauntlet before they could take their seats, she would be perfectly fine. Comedy she could handle.

She changed their position, dropping his arm so he could wind it around her waist and she could step closer to him. She tipped her chin up to so her lips were next to his ear, like his had just been near hers. "You do realize that isn't as helpful as it sounds, right?"

Okay, so maybe she couldn’t do comedy. But the many eyes on them made it thinking of witty retorts on the spot quite the challenge.

As expected, the more time they spent laughing and joking- dutifully playing the role of a smitten couple, the more speculative whispers and observant eyes followed their every move. Disembodied voices in every direction bellowed one of their names followed by "over here" or "look here."

Pause. Pose and smile. Right to left so everyone gets their picture. Walk. Repeat.

"Shirayuki! Let us see the back of the dress!"

Obi removed his hand from her waist, letting his fingers drag against the skin of her mostly exposed back before reaching down to once again hold her hand as she slowly turned. She peered over her shoulder, demure with the shy teasing smile she'd been taught years ago. She felt naked to the world. Unprotected. That brief moment of exposure seemed to last an eternity.

"Beautiful, Shirayuki. Thank you!"

"We're almost there, Shirayuki. You're doing excellent," Obi whispered in her ear, as she turned back to face forward so they could walk to the next group.

"I feel faint, like I can't breathe," she admitted.

"Well, if you decide to pass out, I'll be sure to catch you," he teased before smiling and waving toward another camera as he pulled her in just a little closer. "Don't worry. We're almost done out here. Then, we just have to tackle the interviewer in the lobby."

Oh, crap. The interviews.

A nervous chuckle burst out of her, just shy of an awkward volume, and the heat of a blush slowly crept its way over her cheeks, nose, and down her neck.

It'd be a miracle if people didn't notice her sudden redness. Maybe they'd just assume he had said something risque to her, she thought. It was immediately followed by regret when her ears then began to burn.

Oh, that was worse. That just added fuel to the fire blazing from her hairline to her exposed collar bones.

"Talk to me," he whispered, way closer to her blushing ears than he had been not even a second before.

"Just… nervous… about the interview," she managed to say around a breathing speed that was nearing hyperventilation.

His hand at her waist squeezed reassuringly. "Don't worry. You have the easy part."

"How do you figure?" She didn't mean to sound snappish but that commented grated on her nerves. Amid panic, she was in no mood to be patronized.

To his credit, he just shrugged it off and replied, "You know how Hollywood is. Sexism still rules here, shameful as it is. I'll get questioned about the movie and they'll undoubtedly ask you something stupid like, 'what designer are you wearing tonight?' or something stupid about your underwear."

He was right. That is exactly how these things typically went. Despite the actresses calling out sexist questions in recent years, they still always got questions about being working moms, if they were able to wear underwear under certain costumes, and what designers crafted their ensembles.

It was enough to ease the flare of her temper. It wasn’t his fault. He was just speaking the honest truth. There was nothing left but to return to there banter. "Aww, you don't think they'll care who designed that suit or want to know whether you’re wearing boxers or briefs?"

“Not standing next to you and that dress, they won't." His smile was blinding and surprisingly honest. Then he winked at her and she stopped moving.

He winked at her.

“Hey, Shirayuki," he said, eyes locked on hers.

The summer night air was cool against her back where his hand had been as he looped her arm back into the crook of his elbow. She was staring. She knew she was. He was so handsome and how exactly had she gotten here again?

A small hum was all she could manage, lost in his eyes as she was. Somewhere deep inside she balked at how cliche she was. The rest of her, though, was becoming a little more at ease with the situation.

"We made it passed the vultures.We’re almost free. Let's get the interview over with. Shall we?"

She nodded sharply as they turned the corner, fake-genuine smiles back in place.

Up ahead, standing on a raised platform two steps off the ground, Mukaze stood with her adopted younger brother, Kazuki, and an interviewer that looked like a frat boy film student who needed extra credit and had been stuffed unwillingly into the discomfort of a suit for the pleasure of a vindictive professor. Probably some pitiful intern who had been roped into doing a senior staff member’s job so they could rub elbows with the rich and famous.

"Ah, the man of the hour himself! And my daughter, too!" Mukaze called, gesturing for them to join the interview already in progress.

Obi placed his left hand over her hand still nestled into his elbow and gave it a small squeeze as they made through the throngs of onlookers from socialite heirs and heiresses to other big name celebrities that were loitering by the mock stage.

Shirayuki sucked in a quick breath- a vain attempt to calm her nerves. Interviews were worse than the mindless gossip mag zombies out front. At least out there she wasn't expected to give intimate details about her underwear or something else equally as intrusive.

“I'm here. I've got you," Obi said again. The same type of affirmation he'd been whispering into her ear since they had arrived.

It was actually comforting coming from him. He wasn't condescending. He never made her feel as though he was a glorified babysitter that, at the ripe age of twenty-three, she was way too old to need. He was just strong and sturdy and in trapped just as deep in this charade as she was.

He stepped away long enough, to bow down just a little and offered her his hand to help her up the steps. She took it, trusting him not to let her fall in the stupid heels Yuzuri had insisted she wear because, "my goodness, Shirayuki, he's so tall!"

He followed her up the steps, once again settling a hand on her waist as he stepped closer. He really was quite the actor, never letting a single detail slip. Impressive, really.

"We were just talking about you, my boy," Mukaze said, reaching around both Kazuki and Shirayuki to give Obi a sound thump on the back.

Obi grinned his thousand-watt smile at them all. "All good things, I hope."

"Indeed. Indeed," said the reporter. "Mr. Lyon here said that you were wonderful to work with, often doing your own stunts and nailing them in one take."

Obi chuckled. "That is true. I guess I just prefer the production crew not needing to worry about switching camera angles to avoid the use of a stunt double being obvious. I prefer a hands-on approach."

"I think I see your film's leading lady coming up behind you so unfortunately that's all we have time for," the interviewer said into the mic. "Enjoy your film."

The man let Mukaze and Kazuki leave. Shirayuki began to follow but the man held Obi back a moment.

"Hey, bud. Have fun getting 'hands-on' with the producer's daughter tonight."

Obi laughed… sort of. Not the type of laugh that spoke of humor but the annoyed chuckle an offended person lets out while they're deciding how to handle the situation. "Yeah..."

Obi's pause was disconcerting and, despite it sounding less than amused, her mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. 'Yeah?' What does that mean? Did he have more plans for them than she had agreed to? Why

Every little girl grows up learning to be vigilant. Men aren't always what they appear to be. They're usually superior in height, weight, and strength- especially when you're a short and slender woman like she is. Her brain began a self-preservatory run down of options.

There were cameras everywhere in the lobby and more outside. Escaping through the front would be impossible, not without causing a scandal anyway. She could possibly sneak out a side exit or something. Maybe the bathroom had a window? If they get seated near her father, she can just go to the family estate with them instead of Obi dropping her off at her apartment but...

"Yeah… Yeah. What's your name?"

Obi's voice cut through the cluttered, rapid-fire thoughts of escaping a situation that wouldn't turn out well for her and she turned to look at him.

His eyebrows were pinched together, nostrils flaring just a bit. Oh. Oh… 'Yeah' was the word of barely disguised disgust as Obi's line of patience was stretched thin and then pushed beyond its breaking point.

"Uh.. umm.. Gary?"

"Gary what?"

"Ha.. Hatfield?"

All Shirayuki could do was stand there. The whole display was unfolding in whispered tones. Anyone looking on would see nothing more than two guys talking quietly, but the kid's mic was still recording.

"Hollywood Tonight is the show with exclusive rights to tonight's pre-premier festivities, correct?"

"Yes?"

With that, Obi straightened and clapped the kid too hard on the back of his shoulder. "Excellent. Good luck with work come Monday," he said casually as he turned back to Shirayuki. "Sorry about that. Let's go find our seats, shall we?"

He took her, gently but firmly by the wrist, taking shorter steps than her own so he could pull her back to his side. As soon as he had her close to him, his arm wound around her back and his hand found the dip of her waist again.

When they were well out of earshot and beginning the slopes descent into the theater proper, Shirayuki finally found her voice again. "What was that? Were you a bodyguard in another life or something? Maybe a knight who would defend a woman’s honor?"

She tried to keep her voice light, teasing almost. That was nothing more than Hollywood's usual crap. Girls come easy and boys get what they want without repercussions. But she knew she failed, sounding more awed than amused. She was a bit annoyed with herself though. Everything had happened so fast but normally she was much better about sticking up for herself.

Obi laughed heartily, letting his head fall back and stopping forward motion so neither of them tripped while he wasn't watching where they were going. Several people turned around in their seats to see what was causing the commotion. Shirayuki flushed again and tapped his hand to bring his attention back to where they needed to go.

She couldn't wait for the lights to go out. She needed to be able to disappear for a while.

"Possibly," he mused as he spotted Mukaze saving seats for them and he began steering her toward her family. "But who's to say?"

She hummed a response as she thought back to the interview. "What's going to happen to him on Monday?"

"I wonder."

They sat down in the open seats next to Mukaze as the lights dimmed and brightened three times in succession signaling one minute to the start of the movie.

"What took you two so long," Mukaze teased, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Kazuki, off to Mukaze's right, also wore a suspicious smirk but Shirayuki didn’t have the emotional capacity after the last half hour to try and decipher what they were so happy about.

"Oh, you know, the usual. We thought we'd stop by the liquor store to pick up a few bottles of tequila... maybe find some drugs and a washed out rock star to do them with."

Shirayuki was the one to laugh this time, relief at having made it through the last half-hour of wasted time and energy without too much headache making everything feel lighter. Even breathing was easier now that she was seated with Obi and her family.

The fact that Obi had managed to say that with a completely straight face just made it that much funnier. Mukaze laughed, too. Clearly they had spent some time together on set over the previous summer and knew each other’s sense of humor.

"Is that all? Well, just make sure you're able to survive the after-party," Mukaze said, still chuckling, as the lights dimmed and the opening cinematics started.

The blood drained from Shirayuki’s face. All the breath wooshed out of her like she had been punched in the gut.

She'd forgotten about the after party.

#ObiYukiBingo2019 #celebrity #ObiYuki #in which Obi is an action star and Shirayuki is the producer's daughter and they get roped into a fake dating scenario #and attend a hollywood premier of Obi and Mukazes new film

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what-plant-metaphor-am-i · 2 years

Text

I posted 578 times in 2021

63 posts created (11%)

515 posts reblogged (89%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.2 posts.

I added 1,258 tags in 2021

#obi - 302 posts

#shirayuki - 268 posts

#obiyuki - 153 posts

#the manga - 152 posts

#zen - 104 posts

#akagami no shirayukihime - 65 posts

#snow white with the red hair - 61 posts

#ans - 59 posts

#kiki - 50 posts

#!!! - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#what if i flirted with you 😘 under the starry night sky ✨🌕✨ and we were duelling with swords? ⚔️🤺 just kidding! 😂 unless…😳👀👀

My Top Posts in 2021

In this bit of chapter 111 after Shirayuki's gone off with Eisetsu in the garden, I wonder if Obi is thinking about the situation with Eisetsu or the 10 second stare that just occurred.

92 notes • Posted 2021-07-16 06:55:22 GMT

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95 notes • Posted 2021-07-20 21:58:28 GMT

I don’t know if this has been picked up on before, but I am losing my mind over it so I want to share my journey with you. May I present my descent into: Zen’s Algae Report.

It all started when I paused the beginning of episode 14 to see what Zen was writing about and was amazed and highly entertained to find that it seemed to be a report on, of all things, aquatic algae.

This naturally piqued my interest, so, being a loveable-yet-rather-obsessive-scamp with a passion for words and too much time on my hands, I set to work attempting to transcribe what he wrote in that brief scene.

In the transcription I put hyphens (---) wherever the next part was not visible and put asterisks around words I believed to have figured out, though they were partially obscured (Zen’s hand moves in the scene so more words were revealed). Multiple asterisks just mean I have a note about it at the end. 👍

"--- erie could experience one --- severe harmful** algal bloom --- a potential measure of 8.7 on --- the severity index, according --- oceanographic institution.

--- which have different colors *and textures*. Blooms can appear in a variety of colors that depend on the algal species. The aquatic ecosystem and organism --- cyanobacterial blooms, the formal name for the blue-green algae, are the problem here. Their presence means cities and local governments must *spend more* to --- water, puts swimmers in *high concentration*”.***

**this was written as one word - 'severeharmful' - and had me stumped for a while :') I like the thought of this word existing in the ans-verse and the characters using it :D

***after spending too much time rewinding and pausing to see parts of words as zen's hand moves to reveal them, I could make out 'hi --- oncentrat'. I believe it's meant to say 'high concentration' but WHO KNOWS

It was only AFTER typing all this that I found out The Truth.

The first half-word that was at the top of the page was bugging me because I couldn’t figure out the letters. So, being the loveable-yet-slightly-perfectionistic-scamp that I am, I racked my brains over it until I realised it could read as “-ake”. The following word, “erie,” hadn’t made sense at all, so I couldn’t see how I could use it to try to figure out what this “-ake” word before it could be. I decided to google the word “erie” in case it did mean something that I was unaware of. And guess what I found?

“Lake Erie” is apparently the fourth-largest lake (by surface area) of the five Great Lakes in North America. This may be common knowledge to Americans(?) but as a loveable-yet-entirely-European-scamp this was news to me. I was obviously thrilled as this worked for both words and made sense, but I was also surprised that Zen appeared to be writing about a very real, and not ans-verse, American lake. 🤔

I wanted to see just how much of His Algae-Loving Highness Zen’s report was true, so I searched for “lake erie cyanobacterial algae”

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108 notes • Posted 2021-09-09 23:14:05 GMT

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109 notes • Posted 2021-05-02 14:39:14 GMT

Something I love in ANS is that Shirayuki wears the things gifted to her, and not just as a one-time thing; ever since being given earrings by Yuzuri she regularly wears them, and the hair ornament that Obi gave her she wore for the majority of her Tanbarun stay, and then she mentions how she wears it as a good luck charm and was distressed when she left it behind after going travelling. (I think she also wore it at another fancy occasion but I don’t remember which). When Ryuu and Obi get her a new hair ornament she wears it almost immediately.

I like how these gifts are not just used as something to move a scene along, they are significant to Shirayuki and mark progression in her relationships.

Also! You can see how much she treasures them just by the fact that she continually wears them, no comment needed, no close-up necessary. (Apart from the first time Obi noticed she was wearing his gift, then we had a zoom and an OMG moment from him, understandable, Obi)

121 notes • Posted 2021-02-15 00:11:07 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #well those tags were predictable 😂#and yet my longest tag was Hisame-related 😂 surprise!!#of course the algae report was in there lol #I didn't expect the 'obi thinking about the 10 second stare' post to get so many notes!#with that one I was so glad to edit away that mark from the scan off the close up of his face and save a version of it on here #so we can properly focus on the EMOTIONS he is having #and wooo number 1 is one of the first things I posted after making this account I believe! :')#I've not even been here a year yet but thanks to all of you for being cool and inclusive and making it so fun ;-;

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