#obiyuki parallels

[traditional-with-a-twist]

lix. Beauty and Her Beast

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Parallel scene: Lovely, Dark, and Deep from Obiyuki Winter Challenge 2018.

As Kiki set the hunting lodge to order, she assessed the situation.

Truth be told, she had foreseen little good following Obi’s choices from the start, and now there was every reason to declare her fears vindicated.

She found her friend alone and forsaken, stranded somewhere along the road to nowhere and by no means in the best of health.

...

Kiki had not meant to interfere. She had understood in the couple’s sudden and silent departure, vanishing on the eve of their wedding, that they would find their own way now. 

She thought of them; she wished them well; she waited.

When Shirayuki’s letters stopped, she had begun watching, listening, looking for signs of something amiss. 

Had they simply disappeared again, in quest of a still more distant retreat than the one they had made for themselves in the wilds of the Haruka estate?

The message from Mitsuhide had settled this question.

...

Where Obi had gone now, why he had left — those questions Kiki could not answer, and she doubted whether Shirayuki might, either.

Perhaps Obi himself would be hard-pressed to explain. 

Regardless of the case, Kiki considered such details immaterial. He had made his decision; he had broken the promise sworn before her and to his wife.

Now only one question remained: what next?

...

Shirayuki’s feelings wavered from gladness to trepidation when Kiki re-entered, bearing a bowl of something hot.

She felt herself stronger as she sat up to eat, but inwardly her spirit quailed. 

Twice now Shirayuki had appealed for assistance with her quest; twice she had been refused — by the very persons she might have expected more interested, most sympathetic to her case.

Now that she faced a third prospect of rejection, Shirayuki debated whether to mount the petition at all.

...

Perhaps Kiki was too busy; perhaps it would not be fair to ask.

Shirayuki would not want to put her in an uncomfortable position…would not want to impose….

She accepted the bowl in silence and began to eat with her eyes lowered.

...

Kiki sat beside her on the bed, a gesture so familiar that Shirayuki looked up in surprise.

She met her friend’s kindest smile, the one she had encountered first in the belly of a pirate’s ship after a long nightmare of fear and isolation.

The same expression of warmth and kind understanding met her now.

...

“Shirayuki,” her friend said gently. “You’ve come a long way.”

The herbalist of Tanbarun turned royal pharmacist then princess-to-be, bereaved and betrothed again, lately a wife and now a sojourner — at this acknowledgement, she felt herself begin to tremble.

Shirayuki gripped the bowl to stop it from splashing.

...

Kiki laid her small hand, strong and sure, on her friend’s shoulder. “You’re not alone,” she said simply.

Shirayuki set the bowl aside and let herself be held as she had not for an interminable number of nights — not since Obi had left her nor Zen before him, not even since her grandparents, but perhaps all the years back to the loss of that unknown mother who had once cradled her close and secure as Kiki did now.

The fear drained away as a restful sense of comfort overtook it.

Shirayuki leaned on her friend and said, “I’m looking for Obi.”

...

Kiki nodded. She had guessed as much, but it meant something that Shirayuki spoke in the present tense. She was yet searching; she had not given up.

Bolstered by this first mark of acceptance, Shirayuki drew herself upright.

She met Kiki’s gaze and confessed, “I don’t know where he is.”

...

There it was – the shame and futility of her search, bundled together in one short phrase.

She had admitted herself completely forsaken, even as she asked an fabulous boon: help me to find a man who does not want to be found. 

Help me track a flake of snow in the mountains, a fallen leaf in the forest.

Help me to journey, I know not where, for a man who may refuse me when I arrive.

Help me to do the impossible.

...

She bared the guilt and absurdity of it all before the gaze of Lady Kiki Seiran, the third nobility of her adopted country to whom she had addressed her plea.

The first had scorned both her and his son, lashing out in anger.

The second had turned from her, drawn away along his own road to somewhere she knew not, too bound in his own pain to minister to hers.

...

Now Kiki’s eyes regarded her: the pale clarity of an aristocratic line, hardened like diamonds in the forge of Kiki’s exacting mind and unrelenting spirit.

The eyes of a basilisk when angered, the eyes of a sphinx when calm, they weighed up all who came before them and found most wanting.

Shirayuki met these eyes unflinching, firm in the courage that rarely wavered and never deserted her for long, and awaited her judgment.

...

Kiki rose from the bed and walked to the window, every step precise. She stood gazing out at the forest around them, lately streaked with white.

They were in the depths of cold yet; spring had not thawed the roads.

It would be a difficult journey under the best of circumstances, like and unlike the one she and Shirayuki had undertaken alongside two men now lost to them. Then they had traveled from the border with Tanbarun all the way to the capital of Clarines, and Shirayuki had arrived a fugitive from injustice.

...

Shirayuki was hardy and wise to the natural world, Kiki knew, but her health was flagging; at the very least, she had suffered a shock.

Besides this, the long distance of that first journey had followed known routes.

Shirayuki had stuck to the main roads in her flight from Tanbarun – speedy, but not secretive, as the untimely gift of apples had proved.

The four of them together had preferred the open country, but still along familiar paths, with known supply points.

In this situation, such a method of travel would never serve their purpose.

...

“Obi had made a life of secrecy and flight,” Kiki said. “For his kind, the woods are the nearest they have to a home. He is skilled above all in the art of vanishing without a trace, of leaving false trails, of assuming multiple identities to conceal his passage.

“Beyond this, he will have allies equally if not better skilled, some situated to provide just such a service as preventing discovery — by bolt holes, hidden passages, even arranging stowaways aboard ships.”

She turned to read Shirayuki’s face as she spoke, watching for the emotions that overtook it.

...

“When Obi fell to our supervision, Zen instructed us in the case of his disappearance, that we were not to follow.

“It would be useless, a fruitless waste of our resources. To track him with no idea of his whereabouts or purpose may cost months… even years.

“He may never be found.”

...

“Even if it takes my whole life,” Shirayuki answered, eye blazing, “I won’t stop looking! I won’t give up on him. It doesn’t matter how long.”

“Long,” Kiki repeated. “It will be long.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment. Hard sunlight slanted in through the window and struck the floor in long bright bars.

...

Then Kiki smiled. “So,” she said, “there is no time to waste. Let us start at once.”

[batgirlsay]

Working on an upcoming Obiyuki playlist and noticed this parallel!

[batgirlsay]

You know I’m all about one sided Obiyuki and I love this poem!!

Nice comparisons, I hadn’t thought about the parallel with when Zen had to keep their relationship secret too.

May I ask which song/songs inspired your poem? I was tempted to put some of these songs in Obi playlists so just wondering!

A Whisper You Didn’t Hear

@batgirlsay Here’s the second fanpoem/final fanpoem inspired off of your ZenYuki Week 2023 fanmix! (Admittingly, this one ended up being onesided ObiYuki, whoops.) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14247598/1/A-Whisper-You-Didn-t-Hear

[tavern-of-the-multiverse]

through thick and thin.

[disneysooner]

Similarities between two of my all-time favorite not-the-prince-type characters of anime: Kyo Sohma and Obi

1. Both are considered the rogue-type character compared to their princely counterpart who they constantly bicker with. Deep down though, they respect and think highly of each other.

2. Both are highly-trained and skilled fighters.

3. Both have the most beautiful piercing eyes that could cut like a knife when they get angry.

4. Both have a thing for being on the roof of buildings.

5. Both have a girl that they have feelings for, but have shied away from expressing it due to the thought that they weren’t worthy of that girl; they don’t feel like they are as worthy as their princely counterpart for the girl they love.

[solcast59]

Red Haired Girls Giving Their Bodyguards a Trinket of Their Affections

[what-plant-metaphor-am-i]

Cinematic Parallels:

Akagami no Shirayukihime, Season 2 Episode 4 // Pride and Prejudice (2005)

[sabraeal]

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 4: Free Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buzz. Buzz.

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

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

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

Home. Texting her. 

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

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

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

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

not a bad talk, he clarifies, just miss you

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

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

:|

is that for the sexy or the bad grammar

Both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Big Guy gives priority seating based on height?”

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

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

“Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kihal glances down and grins. “Sexiest Voice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--she gets it.

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

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

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

“O-okay.”

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

“Ah, is everything--?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He makes an ungodly noise. “Kid.”

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

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

--that he’s seen right through her.

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

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

“You magazine needs to work on its name.”

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

“It’s duchess.”

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

“I’m not wearing tights right now.”

His jaw snaps shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stares.

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, she-- she definitely does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Traditional?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She coughs. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

She blinks. “By what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you usually do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you wet?”

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

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

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

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

Her fingers still. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Too bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is it?”

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

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

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

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

“Kid--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obi hums, too smug.

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

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

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

“Sometimes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here, one sec.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But you aren’t touching yourself?”

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could you?”

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

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

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

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

“Really, kid, you don’t have to--”

“Cock.”

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

“What do you-- what should I--?”

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

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

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

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

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

He whimpers.

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

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

“Now?”

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thelionshymnal]

obiyuki: first holiday alone together?

(Thank you <3 hope you’re doing well!)

Hi nonny! It's been an age since I wrote these two so sorry if they're ooc. This is short and random but I hope you like it regardless, (: thanks for sending the ask & i hope you're also doing well! <3

--

“If we leave at dawn we can take our time and still hit the beach before noon,” Obi says, squinting against the light of his phone screen as he enters his card information. “Sound good?”

“Great,” Shirayuki replies, half asleep in his armpit. The cotton of his shirt is soft and the remnants of his deodorant are mellow now, a pleasant spice to breathe in. “I’ll be your navigator.”

“My North Star,” Obi agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It’s late, but they’re both excited. They’ve talked about a vacation all spring, until eventually Shirayuki got tired of only talking about it; set the plan in motion. Their first overnight vacation as a couple and it’s only three hours away, a night and two days, but it’s enough. When it’s them, it’s always enough.

Shirayuki is almost asleep when Obi adds, “I’m in charge of snacks though.”

“No,” Shirayuki huffs.

-

The room they book is at a shabby motel right off the sea wall. Between work and the cost of everyday living, they’re taking the cheap and easy option every chance they get, so Shirayuki and Obi make the most of it in other ways: a road trip playlist, funky beach towels, a complete set of pails and spades and moulds bundled in a plastic red net, enough sunblock and aloe to soothe even pale, freckled skin. Obi buys too much junk food. Shirayuki pulls out a baggie of sliced apples and cubes of cheese and replaces Obi’s energy drink with water halfway through the drive.

Long stretches of peace on the highway, their favorite songs on loop. Seagulls out the window as they get close. A sense of limitless possibility.

“Hey,” says Shirayuki.

“Hey yeah?” Obi asks, grinning out the windshield.

“I love you.”

Obi’s head jerks, like he automatically tries to look her way. But he keeps his eyes on the road, fingers flexing on the wheel. His grin is softer now. “I love you too, Shirayuki,” he answers.

-

When they finally arrive it’s early afternoon. Their motel is down the block and they can’t check in for hours yet. The waves crash white beyond a curve of golden sand, pin pricked with colorful umbrellas, overrun by parents and their children, those who don’t mind that the sun isn’t as high and bright as summer’s.

“You ready for this?” Obi asks, killing the engine.

Shirayuki exclaims “Yes!” in as ferociously chipper a tone as she can manage, fumbling the door handle and tumbling out to the hot pavement.

“Oh, c’mon,” Obi whines. He leans onto the console to peer out the open door at Shirayuki, easy grin in place. “It wasn’t that bad, was it? My parallel parking has totally gotten better!”

Shirayuki’s knees may waver, but at least her smile doesn’t. “Mhm.”

The wind tugs at her shirt, her board shorts, the fan of her ponytail. They stopped at a gas station on the way in to apply sunblock, so Shirayuki stretches her arms out and basks in the warmth of the afternoon, lets the salt and sand in the wind grate against her skin. “Water, sand, or mermaid first?”

“Water, sand, water, mermaid, water, water—”

“You won’t stay awake past five with all that swimming,” Shirayuki laughs as Obi gets out the car. They meet around back, trunk popping open. Gather their things and sneak a kiss in the relative seclusion, the secret shade, their hands full of plastic pails and cheap towels. Shirayuki pulls back and hums, feeling impish, delighted, excited to crash into the waves. She says, “Maybe you can take a nap during your mermaid makeover.”

“If I wake up buried in sand and don’t have the biggest pair of—”

Shirayuki nudges him silent with her hip, eyeing the walkway next to them for errant children. “Obi,” she says. “I solemnly vow to make you the most voluptuous of mermaids.”

“Thank you,” he beams.

[queenofwordsandnerds]

My thoughts on AnS Manga Ch. 119 and 120

Okay I may be late to the party but I have so many feels about these two chapters I have to get them out there or I may explode...

I CAN'T be the only one freaking out about these chapters, can I? They both contained such BEAUTIFUL and OBVIOUS Obiyuki moments that if I was in any doubt as to Sorata Akizuki's intentions before, I'm not now. Obiyuki HAS to be endgame. All the moments in these recent chapters are so subtle yet well-crafted...it can't be an accident.

Let me start by drawing your attention to the beginning of Chapter 119, specifically the title panel and the panel before that:

LOOK. AT. THIS. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming in the car with my mom when I read this. This and the next panel, more than anything else, confirms my belief that Sorata intends for Obiyuki to be endgame.

So in the first panel, Shirayuki and Tsuruba are waiting outside the party for Obi's signal. He steps outside to the balcony and waves the glowing crystal that SHIRAYUKI GAVE HIM (the fact that THAT was their prearranged signal gives me life because that crystal has so much meaning at this point). But he was supposed to flash it, not wave it. Tsuruba is concerned and asks Shirayuki if everything was all right. Shirayuki immediately gets this intense concern on her face, and she says this:

"No...Obi would do exactly as he said. Without a doubt."

Shirayuki knows Obi so well, probably better than he knows himself. She KNOWS INSTANTLY that something's wrong. It speaks volumes to their level of connection. They've always been able to tell when something is wrong with the other, even when other people don't see it. It makes me endlessly frustrated how well they know each other yet they're so blind (at least on Shirayuki's end).

And THEN. THEN.

THE TITLE PANEL.

LOOK AT IT!!! This panel comes right after the first one, by no accident. Sorata WANTS you to have Obiyuki's connection and Shirayuki's concern for Obi in your mind while you read this title panel.

This is the second title panel that has featured Obiyuki dead center of attention with significant wording beneath the phrase "A romance that cuts through fate." If the first title panel wasn't obvious enough...this one is. If I was a new reader and I only saw this panel...I would think that Obiyuki was the "romance that cuts through fate." Other wonderful tumblr users have explained how Obiyuki could be this romance, so I won't go into it...but this is just further confirmation from Sorata to me.

The first title panel read "please, take my hand." This one reads "unwavering trust." The CONTINUITY. DO YOU SEE IT THE WAY I DO?? This title panel is a response to the first one. Shirayuki trusts Obi enough--unwaveringly--to take his hand. There's nobody else that phrase could refer to. Obiyuki's trust in each other is legendary, even within the story. Other characters see them as a unit. (And their hands aren't visible in this panel but close enough that I like to believe they're holding hands beneath the frame here. It's possible!)

Am I reading too much into this? Maybe. But I can't be the only one who sees the massive significance?? I just can't!

Also, I will say the one issue I had with the story was the lack of Shirayuki in a gorgeous mask and ball gown infiltrating the party on Obi's arm (and Obi's utter swamp mess of feelings upon seeing his Miss dressed up). I feel ROBBED on that score. But at least we got to see our cat boi in his fancy clothes and mask...can we just take a moment to appreciate how FINE our boi looks? Like LOOK AT HIM

STUNNING SO SEXY SHIRAYUKI YOU BLIND WOMAN-

Ok moving on

So these next two panels were my FAVORITE part of the whole two chapters. Shirayuki and Tsuruba are outside and Shirayuki asks Tsuruba to help her up onto the balcony. But Obi APPEARS out of nowhere like he was summoned by a call (lbh his Miss asking for help probably was a call) and he jumps down besides Shirayuki and lifts her up himself before Tsuruba can even move...all without saying a word.

OUR BOI IS THE ONLY MAN ALLOWED TO HELP HIS MISS AND ONLY HIM. ZEN WHO??

Seriously, this part is so short yet so significant. It takes up a notable number of panels, and we didn't need to have Obi help Shirayuki. Tsuruba could have done it. But Sorata devotes these pages to this scene so we can SEE that Obi is still his Miss's loyal knight. He still takes care of her and is probably a bit jealous of another guy helping her when that's HIS JOB. It's a sharp reminder that not only is Obi very much Shirayuki's knight, but also he's still in love with her. It's just a sweet scene with a very easily discernible romantic element.

Also...that panel of Obi kneeling at Shirayuki's feet with his cape fluttering, ready to aid her...*chefs kiss* I could stare at that panel for hours. The facial expressions and detail during this scene is also priceless. I would rate it in the top 10 Obiyuki manga scenes, honestly.

SHIRAYUKI YOU SWEET GIRL HOW CAN YOU BE SO BLIND I SWEAR-

The rest of the Obiyuki moments that I noticed were more minor, but still really significant to their story and development as a whole. There's several panels of Obi and Shirayuki considering things together, being concerned together, working out solutions together...

Like this one (the way he hovers protectively over her shoulder tho...it's almost like his right hand is on her back):

Or this one:

THIS ONE MURDERED ME:

LOOK AT THE SYMMETRY. THE PARALLELS. THE BACK TO BACK. THE WAY THEY THINK THROUGH THINGS TOGETHER.

Obiyuki's legendary similarity in thinking will always impress me. They share such similar thought processes, they LITERALLY finish each other's sentences. And the way they come to the same conclusion in this panel and they share the same determined look like "yeah, we know what we're thinking and we know what we've got to do and we're on the same team" JUST KILL ME NOW. Could you get any more couple-y without being an officially canon couple?

And the last panel of them together: Shirayuki can ride on her own now but she sits behind Obi JUST LIKE OLD TIMES and how the two close-up panels of their faces are just too perfect and they're ready to take on the danger together like the absolute unit they are-

So yeah

Chapter 119 and 120 had some of the best Obiyuki moments I've seen in a while, honestly. The plot didn't go in the way I expected, but it was SO GOOD! The drama and pacing were absolutely on point, I can't wait until December I need to find out what happens NOW!

[obiyuki-beebs]

masterpost

All of the obiyuki content by le me. I had this on its own page for a while but having a link no one sees is much less effective than sharing ...... a pOsT! Ta dah! 

I sincerely hope you enjoy my mad ramblings.

Graphs n shit

Shipping panel count / graphs to illustrate change *

Fics

all exceedingly short, wee!

stuff n things - compilation of event submissions but on ao3

gothic lit au

cinders underfoot: ao3 link 

unspeakable things: prequel to cinders underfoot (coming soon ... eventually..)

chronic illness au

harry potter au

hacker au

less we say one

less we say two

Discussions n Asks

ignore these hehe

Theory on the original hair pin from Obi *

Ch 66 basically just squee about how cute they are

Ch 86 thought re glow stone *

Ch 90 SUPER feels *

Ch 115 ObiYuki *

Ch 115 theorizing *

Ch 116 Theorizing n Discussion

Foreshadowing? Heavy discussion *

Theory on what Liera is up to at the balls / lead up to 119 knights ball *

Parallels HisaMitsuKiki ObiZenYuki, link to another post *

ObiYuki endgame!? / some foreshadowing discussion *

ObiYuki endgame traction

ObiYuki I understand the fear of believing this too hard

Shirayuki uncomfortable alone with Zen!? *

Shirayuki doubts and development? *

Shirayuki finding out Obi loves her because of the perfume!? *

- pt 2 / revisited here

____________________________

Ask box is open but I am le sleepy

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xlvii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

Parallel scene: A Traveler from Obiyuki Winter Challenge 2018.

Amber liquid splashed in the glass.

As he poured, the tavern keeper’s eyes flickered between his customer and the crowd gathering behind him.

Obi drained the glass and slammed it on the counter. “Another.”

…

Coming to Tanbarun had been a mistake. He hadn’t meant to – hadn’t planned it this way – just set his feet to the road and his face to the wind.

He had no mission, no destination, no purpose – only the necessity of removing himself.

He should have resurfaced somewhere new, somewhere unknown and unknowable, ready to begin again the endless wrestling match of taking enough from life to stay in the game.

…

Instead he found himself here, in her homeland, and everything reminded him of her.

For the first time, his wandering had led him astray, backtracking until he double-crossed himself.

He had shed his old lives as easily as he changed names, as easily as a snake shed its skin. He could remake himself, forget who he had been, leave everything behind — everything but her.

He heard her in their voices. He saw her in their faces. He felt her in the air.

He could forget himself, but he could not escape her.

…

The tavern keeper opened a new bottle. He glanced past Obi again. The night was cold, the bar room drafty, but the man was sweating. 

Every head had turned when Obi walked in, and now every eye was fastened on his back, tracking the stranger’s progress through drink after drink, bottle after bottle. The regulars had banded into knots, muttering to each other behind the rims of their glasses.

Obi showed the owner a coin to soothe him. “Another.”

If he had stopped to think of it, Obi might have noticed the imposing figure he presented: a tall and dark stranger, too bold for his own good, marked with old wounds and that ineffable sense of danger — or rather, dangerous because he knew no danger to fear.

Obi did not notice. 

He thought of only two things now: the pain, and how to end it.

…

He had wondered once if he could ever leave her. Now he had - but she had not left him.

It hadn't been so bad at first because he'd been busy.

Their uninvited guest had had the sense to take himself off during the night, but Obi hadn't left anything to chance. 

He planted false trails leading away from the cottage, taking care to let himself be seen moving north, deeper into Clarines.

…

Then Obi had melted back into the shadows where he belonged, confusing the tracks he left behind to shake any interested parties off his scent.

If anyone was still interested in what had drawn him to that cottage again and again, if they had been hoping to uncover a stockpile or even a treasure trove hidden away among the woods, they would have every reason to believe it had found a new home.

As for the red-haired woman, she and Obi had parted ways. Observers might, if they cared, conclude that he had abandoned her.

…

His hand tightened on the glass.

They wouldn’t be wrong, whoever thought that. What they would not understand was that he had done it for her.

She was better off this way.

…

He had spared a fleeting thought for the old man as he left, pictured briefly his seething rage at the discovery that Obi had confirmed all his worst predictions yet again. 

Then again, perhaps he might instead feel relief, a release from the one responsibility he had ever begrudged. 

The instructions, the threats, the promises had all amounted to words on a page, lines of ink smudged into meaninglessness with a drop of rain — much like every other binding contract Obi had experienced.

That was why his world sealed their contracts in blood. 

…

He couldn’t help but think of that, as he raised the glass once more and a thin scar showed white on his palm.

For the first time since his master’s death, Obi was glad. He had endured a lifetime of disappointing the man responsible for his birth, but the prince was another matter.

No matter what became of him now, it was some small consolation that Zen would never know.

…

He could drink and drink, and the ghosts might watch, but they couldn’t speak.

Another hour of this, and Obi thought he might not be able to, either.

He no longer knew what the bartender poured him, whether it was alcohol or swill–his mouth was too numb to tell the difference. The edges of his vision blurred; his ears were buzzing.

Still, when he closed his eyes, he could see her face.

She smiled, she laughed, she cried – a thousand faces, a thousand moments he had stolen and hoarded until the inevitable good-bye. Now they played in an endless loop behind his eyelids, taunting him with the evidence of his crime.

Obi gripped the bridge of his nose, slumping forward. He couldn’t forget. He’d been drinking for hours, but he couldn’t forget.

…

You’re right, Obi, her voice whispered in his ear. I shouldn’t keep you here.

He had been a fool to think he could make her happy. Week after week, her bloom had faded, the color leaving her cheeks, her laugh losing its luster, until he had returned that night to find her blighted, like a flower transplanted to an unfriendly soil. She didn’t belong with him.

She never had.

…

His fingers dug into the rough wood of the counter, but the sting didn’t balance out what he felt inside. Obi raised his head, staring around wildly for a distraction.

The tavern keeper held out a drink, but he was looking past Obi. His fingers were trembling.

A hand like a bear paw engulfed the cup. It belonged to one of the regulars. He was taller and broader than Mitsuhide, his face battered with old scars. 

He looked like a brawler to Obi — more bulk than speed, flailing fists rather than precision, not likely to kill…unless you stayed still long enough for him to beat you bloody. 

…

The man sat down too close, his elbow jostling Obi’s.

It was the first rule of the underworld to never draw attention. If you wanted to stay free, never give people a reason to remember you. 

If you wanted to stay alive, never make unnecessary enemies.

…

A fight with a bruiser like him wouldn’t end quickly. It would be a messy, noisy affair with broken glass and smashed chairs. 

Everyone in the room would get involved — the angry ones who caught a stray blow by chance, the riled ones who enjoyed the smell of blood in the air, the greedy ones who cut purses in the chaos, even the fearful ones who ran into the streets calling for help. 

Start a fight like that, and you could never show your face in that town again.

…

Perfect, Obi thought.

The stranger tipped back his head and raised the drink.

Quick as a cat, Obi slapped it out of his hand.

The glass struck the counter and shattered, spraying alcohol and fumes over both of them. The man whirled on him, nostrils flaring. The tavern keeper backed away.

Obi grinned.

[randowwriter]

Loyalty Isn’t Always Assumed (Soldiers Of Two Different Sides)

ObiYuki AU Bingo: Rivals AU. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13910908/1/Loyalty-Isn-t-Always-Assumed-Soldiers-Of-Two-Different-Sides (Also secretly known as one of my favorite AUs I began writing for ObiYuki AU Bingo. Wow, this one took a while and was definitely not an easy AU.) <3 This AU was inspired off of a conversation with my lovely friend, @noctusfury who is brilliant all things AU! <3 Honestly, he’s a master AU developer. <3 I had so much fun working the ins and outs of this AU through talking to him, that you have no idea, and now my first fic for it has been written! <3 (I will undoubtedly write more AUs that follow along with this universe or in similar a bit parallel universes. Not all of which will be ObiYuki. I’m having a good time. :) This one of my aforementioned long projects that it took me ages to fulfil. <3  (Warning for lots and lots of bloodshed and war related violence. And character death of unnamed OCs. Now that I remember to actually post a warning.) @snowwhite-andtheknight

[shiemihazas]

Obiyuki and AnS mind dump

So this is something I’ve thought about for a long time when I’m having my normal walks thinking about Obiyuki and Akagami no Shirayuki-hime. One thing I really like about AnS is that the take on love is different from the stereotypical shoujo mangas with a sort of love triangle. While a lot of other shoujo mangas w <3 /\ focus on Jealousy and drama, AnS is more about respect and patience. Personally I have never seen a love triangle anime where the two “love rivals” has as much respect for each other as Zen and Obi does. They have a strong bond outside of Shirayuki that I really admire. Zen knows that Obi likes Shirayuki but doesn’t have second thoughts about leaving the two at Lyrias for 2 YEARS. I also have to bring up the fact that Zen was sort of pushing his relationship with Shirayuki in the beginning but seeing how he could do what I just mentioned above and barely see her for 2 years shows that he has grown out of that.

Now onto another thing, this is kind of my dream scenario to play out in the future of AnS (beware: This is me biasing Obiyuki and thinking of reasons for them to end up together, like always)

I really do not want AnS to end with heartbreak and drama regarding relationships since the characters are so respectful of each other. I would like a parallel story with Shirayuki and Zen. One where Obi and Shirayuki spend together perhaps back in Lyrias. Shirayuki either gets a hint of Obi’s feelings or she is starting to get weird feelings abut him herself herself. and the other half is Zen and a new character that is introduced that he starts to develop something with. When they both meet again they have a very adult talk over their relationship and how they appreciate what they had but slowly have grown apart. I think this is a very nice representation of how most first relationships doesn’t last and that is okay. There is no need for drama and jealousy. I’d also love to imagine Obi, Shirayuki and Zen and his S/O are still close friends and will always be close. I suppose in the end I just want a happy ending for these character. I like Zen but definitely not as much as Obi and Shirayuki. Call it petty but yes, one reason is because he gets in the way of Obi’s chance with shirayuki which I really feel bad about. But also because I find Obi and Shirayuki to be stronger characters which sadly left Zen in the dust as a main character for me. However I still like him, he truly cares about both Shirayuki and Obi.

Alright so thank you for reading my random mind dump I felt like I had to write it down and well.. sorry for any possible grammar mistakes I’m tired and don’t feel like rereading the text woops.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xxxv. Beauty and Her Beast

@the-pompous-potato I love your play by plays, they are really the best XD oh, man, you’re right about that little moment of tension there - she could have disappeared! while you were drinking away your mood, Obi! can’t take your eyes off that woman, come on, man, have you learned nothing

@bubblesthemonsterartist haha I love that, he hasn’t quite processed the transition yet XD indeed, the “missus” is not going away until Shirayuki takes steps. aw, I like the idea that Raj’s gift made Izana laugh <3 at least someone appreciates it <.< >.>

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || AO3 || Next>>

Parallel scene: Promises to Keep from Obiyuki Winter Challenge 2018.

...in the north, procuring the documents necessary to formalize the legal proceedings in recognition of your inheritance. In my absence, the steward of the estate will acquaint you with your responsibilities.

You will depart immediately for the southern holdings to take up residence there.

So ended the old man’s letter, and with it Obi’s dreams of securing every happiness for his new wife.

Fate had cheated them in the end, for the very stroke that had brought them together now divided them from everyone else.

He had married Shirayuki with every intention of seeing her happily rooted in the place she loved best to call home, had considered that source of joy paramount, in fact - prior even to his own claims on her.

He had yielded his place to the first prince rather than see her forced from her home, and now he was to be the instrument of her undoing.

...

When Shirayuki read the letter, the guests had gone, the gifts distributed, and everything packed away, save Raj’s token of affection.

They were alone together because he knew she didn’t like for others to see her distress, wouldn’t want it to trouble Little Ryuu or Miss Kiki or the pharmacists.

She did not cry, but only looked at him with her eyes like endless fields.

...

In a small but steady voice, she said, ‘I won’t need long to pack.’

‘But, missus--Shirayuki--you don’t--’ Obi swallowed, his mouth dry. ‘You don’t have to leave Wistal.’

She looked at him, her brow furrowing.

He longed to smooth the creases away, but he kept his hands on his knees. He wanted her to be free, free to choose what made her happy.

...

Her eyes lingered on his face, drawing him in -- he was adrift in their depths.

‘But,’ she said, ‘you’re leaving.’

Obi spread his hands and dropped his shoulders in a gesture of helplessness.

...

He had lived all his life serving another man’s will.

This wouldn’t be the first time he had bent his head to the old man’s yoke. It wasn’t so bad as long as you followed instructions and stayed out of his way.

Shirayuki nodded once. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’

Every inch of her was still and determined, unwavering.

‘But--’ Obi couldn’t look at her. ‘...you don’t have to come with me.’

...

In the quiet that followed, he heard the rustle of her dress; this was all that prepared him before she laid her hand on his wrist.

His skin shivered under her touch.

He had hardly left her side since the announcement and still she did this to him: shocking him with the smallest contact.

Now he could not bear to look anywhere else, but only gazed at her with a face full of tender longing.

...

She lifted her other hand and rested it against his cheek.

His eyes half-closed; he relaxed into the cradle of her palm.

When she said, ‘Obi, I want to be with you,’ he could only nod.

...

They met again in the courtyard, Shirayuki with a satchel over her shoulder and Obi leading a horse by its reins.

The stable hands had fetched it for him without questioning as soon as he had mentioned their destination -- not bad at all, better perks than the last job he had undertaken for the old man.

He secured Shirayuki’s single piece of luggage to the saddle, thinking how glad he was that they had seen everyone at the wedding feast because there was no need to say good-bye again.

They were not going far; they would be back; he would bring her back as often as he could.

...

He turned to help her up and found that she was staring at the unspeakable gift again.

‘Obi … don’t you think that it might be a nuisance to someone if we leave it here? 

‘Not,’ she added quickly, ‘that Raj meant it that way, and I’m sure it was very kind of him, only it is so large…’

...

Obi spared a glance for the mass of ribbons and jewels. ‘Not to worry, missus, I’ll think of something to do with it.’ 

He made this promise rashly, having no idea what purpose it could serve to anyone, but with a clear conscience in the fullness of his confidence that the right thing would present itself in time.

...

‘Up you get, missus.’ He lifted her, thinking that she felt lighter than her luggage, into the saddle.

Of their own accord, his hands lingered longer than necessary, spanning her waist between forefingers and thumbs, feeling how fine she was in her tiny perfection.

The heat of his palms drew her attention away from Raj’s gift at last; she looked at him inquiringly, strands of hair framing her face as she bent to search his expression.

...

Gazing up at her, Obi remembered the kiss he had yet to claim.

His fingers flexed against her hips, but he checked himself. There would be time for that when he had brought her to a safe place where she could rest her head.

They had plenty of time - an entire life together.

...

With a shake to clear his head, he sprang up in front of her and took the reins.

Shirayuki slid her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his back.

He felt her need for comfort in the grip of her hands, and spoke gently to her. ‘Cover yourself with my cloak, missus; it’s cold riding horseback this time of year.’

...

Shirayuki obeyed gratefully, pressing herself still closer against him with only an open fold to expose her to the harshness of the world.

She didn’t want to see the castle slipping away, the familiar roofs and doors of the city drifting by.

She hid her face from it and tried not to ask when she would see it again, tried not to even think.

Eventually, lulled by the double rhythm of the horse’s hooves and Obi’s heartbeat, she dozed against him as they rode.

...

They passed out of Wistal unheralded, unwatched, save by the gleam in a single castle window - a solitary lamp, lighting the chamber of the first prince.

...

Sounds and sights blurred together, interrupted only at intervals whenever Obi stopped to dismount.

She would huddle against the horse’s neck, trying to trap the heat in the space he had left behind, too sleepy to even wonder that he left his cloak with her.

Then he would return, usually with something hot for her to drink, but once with a thoughtful expression and a roll of paper tucked into his shirt front pocket.

...

‘Obi?’ she asked, muzzy but still curious.

He cast her his most enigmatic look. ‘Not much longer now, missus. Are you cold?’

Dusk was deepening then; she didn’t have the energy to press him when she would rather be snuggled against the warmth of his back.

...

She shook her head. He swung into the saddle and back into the circle of her arms.

From that point, they left the main road and turned off onto forest paths that led them deep into the trees.

‘Where are we, Obi?’ she asked whenever they took a new turn.

‘The estate’s southern holdings, missus,’ he would say every time, until at last they stopped.

...

Shirayuki raised her head to find them alone in a clearing before a wooden cabin with candles brightening its windows. It shone like a golden lantern in the still soft shadows of the forest.

‘Where…?’ Shirayuki began, perplexed, but this time Obi turned to her with a grin as wide as the moon and sang:

‘Missus, we’re home!’

[sabraeal]

Read Along with Sab!

Today I’m sat:

At Her Not-So-Secret Service, Chapter 3 by @infinitelystrangemachinex