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sabraeal · 4 years

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Tender Concessions, Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

A stupid number of years in the making; I promised @xaphrin Obi returning the favor of scar kissing in Sensitive Negotiations way back when she was still working on Talk Too Much, and then promptly got distracted by other things, then promised two chapters of this fic to @fashun-able for the 500 followers raffle, had it grow too big and become its own companion, and then had it get split into three pieces, just in time for this to fit the bill for the prompt “Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap” I picked for the Obiyuki Kiss-a-thon. SO FINALLY, THE MUCH PROMISED SMUT.

Despite all her training-- and all of Yuzuri’s explicit stories-- Shirayuki has to admit: she was not quite ready for the, ah, moment.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Obi slurs from the pillow as she coughs, his fingers carding soothingly through her hair. “Are you alright?”

The taste that lingers in her mouth is bitter, earthy, and her jaw feels subtly stretched beyond comfort, but besides that, she’s fine. Better than fine with his chest beneath her hands, with the memory of how he had thrown his head back, how he had called out her name--

She squirms, and it does nothing to dull the yawning ache between her legs. Oh no, now she’s more aware of it, that persistent pulse, throbbing with the beat of her heart. No matter how much she tries to live in this moment, to appreciate the patchwork of pale scars and smooth skin beneath her, it’s impossible to forget how he had offered to give it to her if she wanted.

Oh, how she had wanted then, how she still wants now--

Her breath gasps out of her as her back hits the mattress, jarring her thoughts into disarray, but she has no time to collect either before Obi appears above her, mouth canted coyly. His hands cup under her thighs, grip firm but gentle, guiding her knees up to her chest.

“Obi,” she breathes, bracing her hands on his chest, enjoying the rabbit beat of his heart beneath them, “what--?”

“I believe--” his palms smooth up her thighs, rucking up her chemise-- “you said that you should finish what you start.”

His calluses scrape along the soft skin between her legs, creeping up and up, and oh, she never thought she’d like anything like this, something rough where she is smooth, but she shivers at his touch, the scent of her blooming bright in the air. Yuzuri had always said it must be terrible for boys to get hard all the time, that at least girls could hide what they want and when they wanted it, but now—

Now she knows the exact moment he smells her, his teeth flashing behind his lips, smug and yet—hungry. Predatory.

Her toes curl. “Y-yes.”

“And it seems—“ fingers brush over the wet curls between her thighs, stealing her breath, but it’s nothing to the jolt that snaps through her when his thumb parts her folds—“I have some unfinished business with you, Miss.”

She almost manages, you have no idea, but one long finger traces her slit, and her back nearly clears the bed. “Obi!”

Shirayuki clutches at him, gripping his biceps so hard she’s sure he’ll have bruises the size of her fingers when they’re done, but she can hardly care, not when his own slide up the length of her lips so easily she moans.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, almost conversationally, as he dips his finger inside her. She expects resistance, but even in this her body yields to him; it slides in smoothly, right down to the last knuckle. “Fuck.”

She opens her mouth to tease him, to mind him to watch his language, or maybe ask if he planned to kiss her with that mouth, but--

But he curls his finger, and now she can barely do more than breathe, her whole body focused down to that single, throbbing point. “Obi!” she tries again, but there’s no words in her, not when he slips in a second, stretching her until she’s-- she’s filled.

It’s obscene how wet she is, how his fingers drawn out a wet squelch with every pump, her scent growing thicker on the air. She’s flushed just knowing it, knowing that there’s no way to hide how desperate he makes her, how much she wants him. Her cheeks and chest burn even as she raises her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers, and she opens her mouth to-- to apologize, but--

“You’re so ready,” he whines, hips grinding into her thigh. She can feel him, half-hard against her, and her cunt clenches hard, drawing out his moan. He’s filling her, but it’s not enough, not what she needs, not when it’s already so close.

“For you,” she pants, pawing at his arms, his shoulders. “I want you, please.”

Obi’s breath huffs out on a laugh, head shaking. He surges forward between her legs, the thrust of his hips pushing his fingers deeper, drawing her world to a single, aching point and--

“Please.” Shirayuki has never begged for anything, only ever earned it, but oh, she will beg for this. “Obi, please.”

“Yes,” he groans, tilting forward to place a kiss on her chest. “Yes, I’ll give it to you, just...”

He loses his words, mouth too busy kissing what skin he can find. His hand grips her thigh, looping her leg up over his shoulder, until she’s open for him, wanting, the wet noise of his touch obscene on the air, and--

He stops.

“Obi.” There’s no breath left in her to scold or to beg, but she manages that.

He bends over, mouth curling as he presses it to her knee. “What’s this from?”

Shirayuki blinks, chest still heaving. “Haah?”

“This.” His nose brushes along the same place, eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of her thigh.

It takes her one long moment to focus, to see the small, silvery scar that stretches just under her kneecap. “I crawled through a bramble patch looking for truffles.”

His eyebrows raise. “Truffles?”

“The boy next door told me that princes ate them.” She lets out a huff, heat blooming across her cheeks. This was not exactly what had come to mind when Yuzuri had told her about pillowtalk. “I thought if I could find some, my grandparents could use them.”

His chest rumbles against her shin. “And did you?”

A laugh bubbles out of her as she shakes her head. “No. And I’m lucky that’s the only souvenir I kept from that excursion.”

Obi grins at that, his hand sliding along her arm, lifting her palm up to him. He barely looks before he presses a kiss there. “And this one?”

His breath puffs hotly against her hand, and it's...intimate, in a different way than it was before. “I grabbed a flask with my bare hand.”

“Miss,” he admonished, moving up to a finger. Hers are slender, small, and she expects a delicate kiss, just a pucker of his lips, but--

“Haah,” she breathes as his lips open, threatening to envelop it whole. “Broken glass,” she offers, hazy, “or a thorn I can’t-- ahh-- remember.”

He smiles around the tip, teeth scraping her skin, and she’s suddenly very aware that his fingers are still inside her, motionless, waiting.

“Obi,” she whines, wriggling her hips.

“Mm?” His brows raise as he gives one, solid suck that she feels straight down to her toes.

“I...” She licks her lips, mouth terribly dry. “I have one on my lip too.”

His mouth leaves her with a pop. “Is that so?”

She nods, emphatic.

“Well,” he drawls, rolling the word obscenely across his tongue. “We can’t ignore that, can we?”

He hovers over her, gaze fixed on her mouth, and her eyes flutter, falling to half mast, waiting--

“Oh!” she yelps, clutching at his shoulders as he flips her up, straddling his lap. His fingers are still in her, impossible to ignore with the way she’s spread wide over him, and he gives one long, languid pump of his wrist. “Obi!”

“I need to get a better look,” he says, too innocent, ducking his head to inspect her mouth. Her lips tingle with anticipation, something that would annoy her if he wasn’t still moving his fingers in her, so slow, stroking just lower than where she needs him.

His breath ghosts over her lips, so close, and she leans in, hoping--

His mouth presses to the corner of hers and is gone just as fast. “Ah, not there. Maybe here?”

Lips barely brush the other corner before he is grinning at her, far too smug. “Or is it--?”

“Here,” she huffs, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him to her mouth.

It’s softer than she expects-- both the bristle against her palms and kiss on her lips. Despite his yelp of surprise, Obi is ready for her, tilting his head to open his mouth against hers, to let his tongue shyly lap at the lip caught between his own.

Shy is not what Shirayuki wants, not right now, not when his fingers still rest within her and she can feel the bare skin of his chest against her belly. She surges against him with a roll of her hips, tongue reaching out to lick at his teeth, and--

“Ah-ah,” he clucks, pulling back, eyes little more than thin golden rings behind the veil of his lashes. “You’re distracting me.”

“Distracting you?” she echoes, breathless, uncomprehending.

“You should always finish what you start.” His teeth flash wickedly as he leans in, pressing his lips against the bone of her cheek, just beneath her eye. “This?”

She blinks away the haze in her mind, trying to remember, but then it comes her her: the endless rocking of the boat, the sharp sting of a blade--

Obi stiffens, pulling away. Even his finger leave her, wrapping around her hip. “Miss? Are you--?”

“It’s nothing,” she says, “just a scratch.”

“Miss...” His gaze fixes to the spot, and she can see the moment he remembers. “Is that...?”

“You should call me by my name, Obi,” she tells him, louder than she needs to. Her fingernails scrape along his scalp. There’s nothing she can't say to Obi, nothing she needs to hide, but-- she doesn’t want to talk about that. Tanbarun. Not now. “You’ve already used it anyway.”

He hesitates, eyes still caught on the silvered line, so faint it’s practically faded. With a shuddering breath, he drags himself away, fixing his gaze on her lips. “Oh?”

“Earlier,” she tells him, enjoying the way his eyes pulse wide with shock. “And I don’t think there’s any need to worry about propriety now. Not when I’ve done...things, and you’ve already offered to make me feel good.”

Obi’s mouth rucks up into a smirk. “Did I now? And here I thought I only said we had unfinished business.”

“You did.” She hesitates, just a moment, before adding, “At Kaninshala.”

His eyebrows raise. “Kaninshala? I don’t remember that.”

“You were drunk at the time.” Her heart flutters in her chest, but there’s no risk left in this, not when the taste of him still lingers on her tongue, and his fingers spread wetness along her side. “But you said that you wanted to make me feel good. That you could make me feel good.”

It’s not often that Obi blushes enough for her to see, but she’s close enough to see his cheeks flare red, matching the tips of his ears. “I-I did not!”

“You did!” she insists.“You even told me you would give me a child--”

Obi lets out a pained bleat, burying his face in her neck. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

She smiles, carding her fingers through his hair. “You thought I might be missing what a marriage might have given me.”

His breath huffs hotly against her neck. “I doubt my intentions were quite so selfless as that, Miss.”

She hums, disapproving. “I thought I told you to call me by my name.”

“I might as well,” he grumbles, “since I already offered to sire your children.”

“I should have insisted earlier,” her mouth curves as she presses it to his neck, “you already told me you could hold me down with just your thighs.”

His head snaps up. “Wha--? You said that!”

She blinks. “No, you did, at Svarbjorn, when I--”

“No, you told me that you--” he huffs out a breath, shaking his head-- “at Lord Hideo’s, when we went cow tipping with his idiot sons. You rode home with me.”

She barely remembers that night, but she does vaguely recall his warmth pressed into her back, the way one of his hands had spread distractingly over her stomach. “I did.”

“And then you grabbed my thighs and asked me if I could hold you down with just them.”

“I did not!” she squeaks, mortified. “I don’t-- I don’t remember that at all!”

“You were drunk at the time,” he admits with a sly cant to his mouth, “but you were very clear. And asked about Master too.”

She covers her face with a groan. “No.”

“Yes,” he tells her gleefully, tugging at her hands. “I must admit, it was very pretty picture you painted.”

There’s something about the way he drops his voice, the way it practically sinks into a purr, that makes her...curious. “Could you?”

He blinks. “Could I what?”

“Hold me down.” She drops her hands to his chest, letting them drag over every ridge of muscle between his collarbone and hip. “With just your thighs.”

His cock twitches hard against her bare thigh. “I, ah...” He licks his lips. “Why don’t we find out?”

She spills back against the bed, thighs clenching as Obi crawls over her, gaze searing as he drags it up her.

“You said you wanted to be sweet to me,” she sighs as his legs pin her, her hands tracing up and over the cords of his thighs, “are you going to be?”

“Did I now?” he hums, hands circling her arms, running up to her wrists. “I don’t quite recall...”

“At Kichirou’s,” she gasps as his mouth presses at her neck, sending sparks racing down to her toes. “When you-- haah-- offered to make me feel good.”

“Mm,” he hums, mouth canting slyly against her skin. “I meant I wanted to taste how sweet you are.”

Her brow furrows. “Taste how--? Oh.”

Yuzuri had told her about that once, how a man might put his mouth on a woman there. Then it has seemed just as improbable as someone putting a cock in their mouth, but now--

But now her mouth is still bitter with him, and the thought of him between her legs, doing to her cunt what he is doing to her breast--

“You would...?” She doesn’t know how to ask, how to say that she wants to feel his stubble on her thighs and his tongue at her slit. Despite all the one-sided conversations on the subject, Yuzuri had never quite touched upon anything more than theory.

“Mm.” His hum goes right through her with the way his mouth is wrapped around her nipple. “I think about that quite a bit.”

It should be easy to turn this into something, to insinuate that she might like to experience all-- all that, but all she manages is, “O-oh?”

He chuckles against her breast, self-deprecating, and gives her a sly look. “It always seemed too much to hope that you might want...” He hesitates, humor leeching from his face. “I thought...serving you might at least be a more likely fantasy.”

“Obi.” She sinks her hands into his hair, pulling him back to look him in the eye. “I have never thought of you as anything less than my friend.”

His eyes shine, even as his mouth quirks. “Even in the beginning?”

Shirayuki blinks, remembering the scrawny young messenger who popped out of every bush and dropped from every rooftop; who asked her if it would not be easier if Zen wasn’t a prince-- “Well, maybe an annoyance, at first.”

His lips split into a grin. “That’s fair.”

“But after that,” she presses, emphatic, “I never thought of you as my servant. I thought that we were...that you thought we might be...”

His hand tangles in hers, settling over her heart. “You've always been my best friend, always. I just thought that I...” His lips press together. “Sometimes I wondered if I was just seeing what I wanted to see. You know, a dog that thinks its the same as its--”

“No.” She strokes his cheek, his stubble rough against her palm, breath catching as he leans into the touch. “No.”

His breath pulses roughly between them, once, twice, before his hand raises, covering her own.

“I mean what I said before,” he murmurs, nuzzling her thumb. “I love you, Shirayuki.”

Her breath stills in her chest. “Obi...”

The words are right there, right on the tip of her tongue, but...but this is not her moment. She’d welcomed him home once, years ago now, and his answer had only been to lift her off her feet, to show her what his heart could not convey in words. She’d been content with that, carrying the memory close to her heart, like how some people wore lockets, but then he’d done what he’d never done before--

He found his words. For her.

As easy as these have come for him today, she knows that each one is hard-won, a battle she’s not seen-- or at least, one she can’t remember.

Her thumb rubs at the dark circle beneath his eye, faded since they’ve come to Rodatrad. She can wait to tell him.

“I’ve thought about that a lot, you know.” His eyes slit open, so dark behind the curtain of his eyelashes. “How I wanted to make you feel good. How I would show you.” His voice drops into a purr, “That I’d like to taste you.”

“Oh!” she gasps, heat flaring as bright on her cheeks as it does between her legs. “I...I...”

“Yes?” he hums curiously, hand dropping to cup her breast, rolling its peak between two of his enticingly long fingers.

“If that’s what you would like,” she says, miraculously steady as she meets his eyes, “then far be it from me to deny you.”

His breath catches in his chest, still against her skin. “Miss--”

“Shirayuki,” she tells him, and presses a hand to the top of his head.

The amber of his eyes turns molten, scorching. “Shirayuki.”

With no more goading than that, his mouth traces a scalding path down her body, licking and nipping at every inch of skin until he finally sits in the vee of her legs, gaze fixed to where she lays open for him. His breath huffs warmly against her, sending shivers up her spine, and she squirms.

“Obi, I think-- haah--” She loses the rest of her thought at his mouth closes over her, tongue sliding up her slit. Her hips jerk, and if she wasn’t about to die from embarrassment, the way his chuckle rumbles against her would be enough to send her over.

His arm settles across her waist, a heavy band, and then his tongue laps at her again, parting her folds, and-- “Oh,” she sighs, back arching as she squirms against the sheets. “That’s good.”

He pulls back with a hum, grinning. “It gets better.”

She means to-- to ask him what he means, to maybe even tease, but his fingers replace where his tongue hand been and his mouth latches hard on to the aching bud between her legs and, well-- she’s only human.

Pleasure overtakes her, as sudden and relentless as the undertow, dragging her under. She’s panting hard when she surfaces, throat raw, knuckles blanched bone-white where she grips his hair.

“Oh,” she breathes, “oh, I didn’t mean to...”

Words refuse to come to her. Obi rests his chin on her belly, grin pulling wide. “I don’t mind. I have to say, the enthusiasm’s...enjoyable.”

Shirayuki nods, loosening her grip, blood tingling as it ekes back into her fingers. She pats his head absently, bristle pleasantly tickling her palms. “I love you.”

Well, there goes that good intention.

He stills under her hand, eyes wide. “M...”

His breath leaves him on a rasp, and he surges up her, mouth open and devouring as it meets hers. Ages ago, it seems, she had been afraid of kisses like this, staring out the iced windows of an inn room, wondering if the snows would free her. But now she catches him, just as eager, knees squeezing his hips as he writhes into her, the soft cotton of his pants caught between her toes.

Obi pulls away, but only to tear at her chemise, yanking it up the rest of her body and throwing it to the floor, somewhere beyond the horizon of the mattress. She cannot bring herself to care, not when she is bent of ridding him of his pants, using both fingers and toes to work it down over his hips, down along the lean line of his calves.

He’s hard against her when she’s done, the length of his cock grinding sweetly into her. “Do you...?”

She cannot possibly miss what he is asking, not when his eyes are so desperate. “Yes,” she gasps, curling into him, “yes.”

All of her theoretical experience has braced her for this part to be unpleasant, maybe even painful, but as his cock slips through her folds, the tip gently pushing into her, there’s nothing but the slow slide of him in her, filling her until she gasps.

“Now that,” he breathes, pressing kisses to to column of her neck, “is good.”

She threads her fingers through his hair, gently scraping her nails down his scalp, enjoying the way he stops to groan against her skin. “Does it get better?”

He jerks back, the worry in his eyes fading as he catches her smile. “Yes,” he says, rolling his hips into hers, laughing as she throws back her head and moans, “it does.”

His pace is torturous, both too slow and not enough, barely filling her before he pulls away, leaving her empty, aching, clawing at him for more--

It doesn’t take long, not for either of them.

He moves just right, hips grinding against hers in a way that had her seeing stars, and then his cock slides all the way in, to a place where her worlds whites out at the edges. With little more that a squirm of his hips she’s falling again, harder this time, every part of her so hot she’d be afraid she might scald him, if she had any room for any more thoughts that yes and more and don’t stop.

Her ears are still ringing as she comes down, but she catches Obi just in time, his back stiffening under her fingers as he lets out a noise that sounds more like a wounded animal than a man. His cock pulses as he spills over, a detail both obvious in hindsight and yet somehow shocking in the moment, but she’s so sensitive that it feels good, better than good, and she holds on to him, coaxing him over with mindless sweet nothings.

Boneless, he collapses into her, the weight of his body oddly comforting against hers. She strokes his back absently, tracing patterns in the sweat that slicks it until he laughs, rolling off beside her.

Ohh, it should not feel so good when his cock leaves her. It only makes her want to start again.

“You know,” he sighs, smile spread wide and warm as he twines her fingers in his, “that’s not when you’re supposed to say it.”

She blinks. “Say what?”

He’s flushed already, dewy and pink, but it settles deeper now. “I...you know. When you...ah...”

It still takes her a full moment of watching him squirm to realize, “You mean when I said I love you?”

“Yes,” he sighs, relived. “That.”

Shirayuki can only stare. “Why not? You made me feel very good, and I love you. It seemed like the perfect time to say it.”

His eyes widen. “You make a fair point, M--” he catches himself-- “Shirayuki. But also...”

She hums, inquisitive.

“Well,” he coughs, “I can’t really tell anyone this story. Ever.”

Her brows raise. “Oh, and somehow when you said it to me is a much safer story?”

He has the decency to blush at that one. “Well, it was, you know, before.”

“Hm,” she grunts, “by a few seconds, maybe.”

“By enough,” he insists, pulling her against him. “But I suppose we’ll just have to keep it to ourselves anyway. A mystery.”

She grins, settling her head against his chest. “You do love to have secrets.”

She can feel his grin as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I do.”

��But...” Her smile turns wicked, hidden against his chest. “Yuzuri hates them.”

He groans. “Oh no, Yuzuri.”

“Are you going to come to bed?”

Akihito frowns at his wife’s reflection in the window, but turns to her anyway. “This is cheating, I hope you know.”

“Me?” Masami flutters her eyelashes, just as she had the night they met. His lords always talk of women losing their beauty as they age, but every year has only made her more beautiful, more herself-- and she knows it. “I merely sent a congratulatory gift.”

“To Sir Obi’s room,” he grouses, slipping between the covers.

She slides across silk to lay her head on his chest. “It’s where we both know she will be.”

“Still.” He frowns, not to be moved. Between the two of them, he is the one with an acute sense of fairness. “Still.”

“Oh, and threatening a daughter was somehow a fair play?” she inquires archly.

“I did not threaten a daughter! I only--” he casts about for the right words-- “informed Lady Shirayuki that she existed. And would make a good match for Sir Obi, should none other provide itself.”

“I’m sure Chisato will be pleased to hear you were making such plans in her absence,” his wife observes wryly, “perhaps we might mention it in our next letter.”

He grimaces. “That won’t be necessary. And there’s no need to be sour over it, in any case. You could have used the same ploy. She’s your daughter as much as mine.”

She favors him with a cool look. “Oh, do you think so?”

He coughs, aware of the ice creaking beneath his feet. “What was it that you wanted, then? A greenhouse?”

“Ah!” Masami crows, levering herself up to meet his eyes. “So you admit I won?”

“We cannot know until morning.” Their plans had too often been spoiled by the stubbornness of Lady Shirayuki and her guard to be too certain of any one move working. “But...” he sighs, “where would we even put such a thing?”

She curls against his chest, a satisfied smile unfurling against his skin. “I know just the spot.”

#obiyukikissdraft #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #sensitive negotiations #tender concessions #lemon #drunk diplomacy arc #this took an actual literal age #and clearly three things prompting it #for it to finally make it out the door #but here we are #the drunk diplomacy arc is COMPLETE

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xaphrin · 6 years

Note

Obiyuki Bookstore AU? :3

[Look,it’s THATWEEK,and I didn’t do anything because… I suck? But here. Have 4k+ ofnonsensical backstory for an AU I nearly forgot about (and youprobably did too)]

“Letyourself in, why don’t you.” Obi looked up from the ledger infront of him and let out a small, annoyed breath. He set his jaw andwatched as his employers tried to wedge themselves into the tightshop that served as his home and base. Master and Mitsuhide wereenough to fill the space between his shelves and his desk, but Kikiseemed to add almost toomuchinthe ways of bodies, and they all half-spilled into the street.

Hisone-eyed tabby yowled at them and made a swipe at Kiki’s heel.

“It’surgent.”

“Ofcourse it is.” Obi closed his ledger and wedged a hand under hischin with another aggravated noise. Zen had always been his best allyand hisclosestfriend, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t get on Obi’s nervesfrom time-to-time. Especially when Zen seemed so willing to letShirayuki slip through his fingers. “Like every other mission yousend me on, Master?”Hisstare turned flat and he cocked his head to the side, expressionthin, watching them try to make room for everyone. “Please, makeyourselves at home. Would you like me to prepare tea for you? Makeyou something to-”

“It’sserious.”Zen moved closer to the small fire in the back of the store, making asmall amount of space for Mitsuhide and Kiki to fill. He stepped overa pile of books and settled onto the wobbly stool by the logs.“There’s been a… something happened and it’s… I need…”His tongue seemed to tighten, and Zen looked away, rubbing the backof his neck.

Obilifted an eyebrow. “Use your words, Master.”

Zen’shead fell into his hands, a broken sound escaping his throat. “It’sall my fault.”

Obicould feel his stomach drop and his heart sputter in his chest. Whatin the world was all of this about? His hand clenched and the scarslashed across his chest itched, as if his whole body was preparingto leap into action without his permission.

“Shirayukihas been kidnapped.” Kiki’s voice was clear and concise, gettingright to the point. She leveled her stare at Obi, somehow managing tosay every detail in that look alone, and gave Mitsuhide an indelicateshove to get him out of the way. “By guards from Tanbarun.”

Obifelt his stomach drop and his ears start to ring, drowning out thesound of the city outside his door and the last few tones of Kiki’svoice. All he could seem to focus on ws his own breathing as memoriesof Shirayuki filled the back of his mind. He blinked, turning thewords over in his mind with enough weight that his own body seemed togrow so heavy that he wasn’t sure if he remembered how to move.Kidnapped?Shehad just been in here last week, poring over the book he bought herin the south, and stuffing him full of her orange and spice biscuits.a few weeks before that, she had been pressed against his side by thefire as she spun haphazard retellings of Tanbarun folktales. It feltlike the world had been ripped from underneath him and he was lefthanging in the middle of nothing, simply waiting to fall.

“Itwas my fault.” Zen repeated, his words still muffled by his hands.“I shouldn’t have left her alone while Prince Raj was visiting,and I knew he was still upset, and…”

Obicould feel himself start to move without telling his body to do so.He wanted desperatelytobe angry with Zen. How could he be so careless when Zen knew the fullbreadth of Shirayuki’s history with Raj? And when Raj was stillslighted by Shirayuki leaving him her hair as she escaped? Zen knewallof this, and yet he was so… so stupid.But, in spite of all of that, Obi was still struggling to be angrywith his employer, especially when their top priority was savingShirayuki right now. He would find the time to be angry later, now heneeded a plan.

Obiopened the draw in his desk and removed his knives, hiding them inthe folds of his clothes. Mentally he began ticking off a list ofthings that needed to be completed, while categorizing all the routesthe Tanbarun guards could have taken her. There would have beenbetween ten and twenty of the best guards who were most loyal to theprince, and that would have left them to stick to only the mostheavily traveled routes and the widest roads - especially for thecomfort of the prince. “Where is she?”

“Wetracked them as far as the moors that border the kingdoms.” Kikiwas the only one in this situation who hadn’t seemed to lose hercool just yet, and Obi was grateful for that small miracle. The moorshad two major roads, and one of them snaked through a swamp - thesmell would have been too offensive for Raj’s delicate nose, sothat left only one road they would be on. That was somewhere tostart.

“Shewas taken a few days ago.”

“Afew days?”Obi turned and glared at Zen, the first time he had let his emotionsget the better of him. His anger was finally starting to boil hot,bubbling under his skin until it threatened to break free in the formof sharp words and heavy fists. How could Zen be so careless?“Were you waiting for a formal invite to rescue Mistress, YourHighness?”

Zenat least had the decency to look offended. “We were trying to avoida diplomatic upheaval, and I don’t need your critique on how Ihandled the situation. It was the only choice I had to avoid anall-out war between the kingdoms over a- a girl-”

Obibit his tongue to keep from pointing out that barely a year ago Zenwould have gladly started a war if it meant saving Shirayuki. Butclearly things had changed between him and the kingdom.

“-Iam doing the best I can, Obi…” Zen’s back hunched at he staredat the floor. “But, I need you to finish this-”

“Youmean clean up after your mistakes?” Obi’s words had bitetothem, and he reached into a cabinet behind his desk to fish out hisemergency pack. “If you had thought through this with a little moreclarity, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“You’reright!” Zen stood up and threw his hands in the air. His voiceseemed to cut through the dust of the shop with the slash of a knife.“Is that what you want to hear? That I’m wrong and you’re right- about everything.You’re right, I should have handled this differently, and I didn’t.And now Shirayuki is practically in another kingdom, and I’m leftstruggling to fix the errors from my mistakes.” He gnashed histeeth and lifted those too-blue eyes to Obi’s and glared. “I’mnot here as a prince, I’m here as a friendaskingmy friendforhelp.”

Godsbe damned, Zen knew exactly how to say things that made him feelguilty. Obi glared back at him, muttering something rude under hisbreath.

“Discretion.”Kiki let go of a soft breath and placed herself between them, tryingto steer them both clear of a fight. She held out her arms andmet both of their stares with one of solidarity. “We need this tobe met with your usualdiscretion,Obi. No one knows who you are or why you’re there - a bookpeddler traveling between cities.”

Obiscoffed.

“Itwould be best if no one saw you at all.”

Obigritted his teeth and looked around Kiki to meet Zen’s downtroddenexpression, the fight seemingly bled out of him until just thehollowness of his worry and failure filled him. Obi felt a twinge inhis heart, a small thread of guilt pulling at him. Zen had been inhis life long enough that Obi considered him like family - almost asif they were brothers. And just like any other siblings, Obi foundhim questioning his brother’s decisions more often than not. Zenwould make a fine ruler someday, but right now he needed to get hishead out of his ass.

Obiran a hand down his face and looked away. “I swear, you’rehazardous to her health sometimes.” He shook his head and movedthrough the rest of his small shop, picking up things he had storedand secreted away - in case of an emergency, like this. “When Ireturn with her, you’re going to have to prove to me that you won’tlet her get into any more damage with you hanging around.”

“I…”Zen tried to think of something pointed to say, but it seemed to dieon his lips. “Just get her back safe.”

“Mm.”Obi hefted a small bag over his shoulders and took his cloak downfrom a hook by the door. “I’ll need a place to rest on our wayback. The fall retreat by the river?”

“Takeit. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

Obipaused at the door and he turned around, meeting Zen’s face with aleveled expression. “I will get her back… but do not forget theconversation we had several months ago, Master.Don’tforget what I said.”

Zensighed and his shoulders dropped, the fight stripped from him. “Iknow.”

Shirayukifound herself teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Her mind was anumb fog of thoughts that held little substance, but seemed to bedrenched in sensation. Every bone in her body ached from a night ofhard riding, but she kept herself quiet, leaning back into the warmthof Obi behind her. He tensed just a little before easing into hertouch, but instead of trying to soften the ride, he instead drove thesteed harder, pushing it to its very limits as if he absolutelyneededtoput an entire country between him and the camp they escaped from.

Shirayukibit back an annoyed sound, each muscle in her body aching with everyjostle from the steed under them. She had lost count of the hours ofnight they had sped through, the stars and moon overhead shifting sosubtly before disappearing into heavy clouds above them. It had beennothing but pitch-black for hours now, stretching around them in aninky darkness she couldn’t measure. Somewhere far-off a songbirdbegan it’s morning trill, the notes disappearing into the mist. Shecould see a thin line of gray inching over the eastern horizon, as ifdawn was clawing its way closer and closer to them. But, even with ashard as they had ridden and how careful they had been, Shirayukiwasn’t entirely sure if they had put enough space between them andthe camp of soldiers.

Thesteed started to slow down, pushed far beyond its limits for toolong, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Shirayuki would have feltmore than just marginally guilty for the beast. The three of themwould rest soon, she knew it. Obi turned off the road and onto awooded path, the branches and underbrush practically swallowing themwhole. A thin drizzle of rain had started to fall, splatteringagainst the leaves to hide their sound and spilling onto the earth,obscuring their tracks. A drop of water splashed onto her cheek andslid down her face. Shirayuki shivered, but Obi just pulled the oiledhood tighter around her head, shifting in the saddle to give her morespace to move.

“Itisn’t much farther, Miss. I promise that we’ll rest up ahead.”He pressed his mouth close to her ear, his voice a ragged whisperthat she had heard only a few times before. She stiffened in thesaddle, her back curling against his chest as he moved closer. “We’llneed a day or two to lay low, rest, and let the rain wash away ourescape. Then we’ll head back to Wistal and back into the protectionof your pharmacy. You have my word.”

Thatwas a lot coming from him. Shirayuki eased only a little, and feltthe bunch of his thighs press tightly under her own as he moved thehorse back into a swift trot. A shiver worked its way down her spine,settling in the pit of her stomach where it blossomed into a myriadof emotions she couldn’t quitename.“Will they find us? Out here, I mean?”

“Unlikely.We’re too far from a town, too far from the main road, and in adirection they wouldn’t think to look. It was safer to take us aways west before heading back to the palace - it throws them off ourtrail.” He turned down another path, this one narrower and moreovergrown, and let the steed slow down just enough to catch hisbreath. By now the skies had turned a dark gray, and a low rumblesounded in the distance, warning them both of an oncoming storm thatwas undoubtedly worse than anything they faced up until now. “We’llstill have to be careful though. No fires tonight. No candles.Nothing that could alert even civilians to our presence.”

Alone.In the middle of nowhere. With… with Obi.A week ago that had been a silly, girlish fantasy, but under thecircumstances it seemed… Shirayuki shook her head. Nowwasnot the time to be thinking about this at all.

“Where…where are we going?”

“Yourdashing prince lent us his fall retreat for the time being.” Obiseemed to grin behind her, adjusting himself in the saddle again.“And I fully intend on taking advantage of the time to pick my waythrough the royal stores of whisky.”

Shirayukilooked over her shoulder, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief andsomething that seemed playful. Her heart skipped in her chest,missing beats and fluttering too tightly against her ribs, and shewhipped back around to stare at the path in front of them. It waseasier to examine the shadows that seemed to fill all the spacesbetween the trees, than to look at that teasing joy in his eyes.Shirayuki could handle thoughtful silence, she stillhadn’tlearned how to combat her own emotions when he looked like… that.Silencestretched before them again, and Shirayuki listened to the call ofthe birds and the rain that spilled over the leaves. Obi finallybroke through the path to a modest, but stately two-story housewedged in between two massive trees close to the river.

“Yourcastle for the day, Mistress.”

Thehouse seemed so cold and empty, no bustle of servants running around.Only a few scraggly chickens poked at the ground before retreatinginto their coop as another rumble of thunder passed overhead. Butthere was no life, no other people, not even a dog or a cat. It wasjust them, and a reminder to her that they were - yet again -completelyalone.

Obislowed the steed down as they approached the stables, and he swunghimself down off the saddle before helping Shirayuki down back onsolid earth. Her muscles cried in pain and her bones creaked andpopped with every movement, but she was happy to finally be on groundagain. She sent up a small prayer for little joys, and moved her bodyslowly, taking in the overgrown state of the lawn. Obi quietly pennedthe steed, thanking it and petting it as it to apologize for suchharsh treatment for so long. The horse just snorted and trotted away,drinking water and chewing on grass. Obi watched it for a momentlonger before taking Shirayuki’s hand and leading her up a smallpath to the house.

“Doyou have any injuries that need tending to?” Obi opened theservants entrance and led her inside to a quiet kitchen. “Anythingthat occurred while you were at the Tanbarun camp?”

“No…”Her wrists had been a little chafed by the rope rope, but therewasn’t much else. Well, perhaps her body needed to regain it’snormal range of movement, but that was nothing that a good walkthrough the house wouldn’t cure. A good walk and an hour ofquestions that suddenly needed answered. She lifted her stare toObi’s and watched as he shed a small pack and his own cloak ontothe table. It was then that the heavens opened up, pounding heavy,earth drenching rain against the thick glass of the kitchen.

“Ihave questions.” Her voice sounded small, drowned out my the noiseof the storm. “Manyquestions.”

Hisstare flicked to her own, mouth tilting to the side in a smile sherecognized far too much. It was a movement that said he would onlytell as much as he wanted, and when he was done talking, she was doneasking questions. “I’m sure you do, Mistress.” He paused,digging through the pack to pull out some provisions that had managedto stay dry. “If you want, you may ask them.”

“Butyou don’t promise to answer them?” Shirayuki curled her toes inher boots, waiting.

“Youknow me so well, Miss. What makes you think this changes anythingabout me? About us.”

Us.Theway he said it was a reminder of their friendship. A reminder thatthey had known each other for a long while, and had grown close. Thiswas part of him that she hadn’t learned yet, but it was still partof him.It didn’t change the man he was, or the man she had grown to know.It was another story she had yet to find the ending too, and itdidn’t mean that she didn’t want to know the ending. She shiftedagain, watching as he looked around the kitchen.

“So,you… you don’t sell books?” That seemed an astute assumption,no matter how silly.

“Ohno, I do.”He moved around her, taking in the state of the kitchen. A smallshelf scattered with preserves had caught his attention, and hepicked through the jars looking for something to eat. His eyes methers for a brief moment, a curious darkness gathering in them. “Iassure you that is myshop.Owned and managed by my own two hands.”

“Then…”

“It’sjust not my primarysourceof income.” He pulled down a jar of apple butter, and another oneof preserved vegetables. He finally turned around and looked at herfully, making sure the entire length of the kitchen was between them.It was as if the space gave him a bit of armor he would not have insuch an intimate setting. “If that’s what you’re questioning.So, yes.The shop is mine. I own it. I manage it. I sell books. Sometimes fromfar away places, sometimes from places a little bit closer to home.”

Sheswallowed, uncertain of how she should ask the next question.Shirayuki’s heart pounded in her ears and she watched him movecloser, each step quiet on the floor. Her throat was dry, but shetried to force the words out anyway. “Are you… a…”

Awhatexactly?An agent for the crown? How in the world could she think to ask himthat?

Thankfully,Obi answered for her, his eyes leveled. “My skills do not includejustbooks,Mistress.”

“Oh.”Shirayuki wished she could think of something more articulate thanthat, but words seemed to escape her. She had a hundred morequestions like whyandhowandforwhom.Shefound herself suddenly wondering about stories and tales that heundoubtedly had and what those were like. She found herself wantingto know more about this side of him - the side that she didn’t havea chance to learn about yet.

Andinstead of saying anything at all, she stared blankly into his face,waiting.

Obi’sexpression softened and he moved even closer to her, invading herspace as easily as he had a hundred times before. “You’re tiredfrom tonight’s ride.”

Shewas.

“It’sbeen a long day and I’m sure you have things you’d like to thinkabout… probably without me around.” He looked away, a hint ofshame hiding in his eyes. “Let’s find a bed for you to rest, andwe can talk more later.”

Heheld out his hand and Shirayuki felt her body react of its ownaccord. She slipped her fingers between his, watching his palmpractically wrap around her entire hand. She felt so small next tohim, like his entire being would swallow her whole. Slowly, shelifted her eyes and met his stare. His eyes were still that strikingshade of gold, watching each of her movements with completefascination behind long lashes. Her heart skipped beats again, andher memories seemed to be flooded with all the little, privatedaydreams she kept locked within her thoughts.

Inspite of everything that she was learning today. This was still herObi.The charming shopkeep that drank brandy and told low-brow jokes andbrought her books from far-away places. The same person who pressedclosed to her in the tight shop and taught her how to read a languageshe had never heard of before. The same person who inquired after herhealth, and told her all the ways she needed to take good care ofherself, because how could he lose a friend like her. Thiswasstillherfriend, a friend she had feelings for that had grown roots deep intoher chest and made her feel things she didn’t always understand.

“I…”

Helifted an eyebrow and watched her, his lips curling up at one side.“Yes?”

“Willyou… stay with me?”

Heblinked, as if shocked by that question, and his hand loosened itsgrip a fraction. “With you?”

“Ah…I… while I sleep, I mean.” Heat curled up her neck, staining hercheeks and bleeding into her hair. Just once in her life, she’dlike to say something to him and not have to awkwardly clarify itseconds later. “I… I don’t want to be alone. It’s dark andstorming and… ”

Tanbarun.

Theword hung unspoken between them. Somewhere in the back of her mind,Shirayuki knew she should have been quivering for her ownself-preservation, that there was a lot from her own experience sheneeded to unravel and process in its own way. That was the reason Obiwas here in the first place - because she had been kidnapped. ButObi… Obi seemed infinitely more important, and this new revelationwas just part of it. With Obi standing in front of her looking everybit the bookseller she cared for and the rogue she wanted to knowmore about, thiswaswhat seemed to be the thing she wanted to focus on. This was whatdemanded her attention.

Sheheld onto the folds of her skirt as another rumble of thunder inchedits way closer to the house. “Please? Just… just for a while.”

Obi’sexpression softened. “Of course, Mistress. Whatever you need.”His smile tilted to the side again, almost teasing as he took anotherstep into her space. The scent of parchment and brandy mingled withfinely oiled metal and fresh rain, creating something new entirely.Shirayuki could feel parts of her awaken again - the parts she hadnearly forgotten about in the long ride from the camp.

Hecurled his fingers under her chin, tilting her face towards his. “Andif you’d like, I will read to you to keep you company.”

#obiyuki #bookstore au #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#I am most sorry

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thelionshoarde · 6 years

Text

untitled; obiyuki fic

for obiyukimadness, accidental soulbond

if i don’t stop now i won’t ever stop and i have work to do today, so here, have a couple of scenes from a fic that i may never finish and which, if i do finish, will probably either be scrapped or changed beyond recognition, since the rest of what i’ve written more recently for this stupid thing is pretty different already

what you need to know: harry potter au, seventh year, obi super-sneaky cast a spell to bind zen and shirayuki together without their consent and, wonder of wonders, fucked it up, so now he and shirayuki are all tangled together and shirayuki NEEDS TO STUDY FOR N.E.W.T.S, OKAY?? also there are elements of non-con throughout because of obi’s stupid, stupid choices. (o shit yeah also: i gave ‘em last names)

A clap of thunder woke her from a dead, dreary sleep, and Shirayuki -- without opening her eyes and with a groan of instinctual dismay, heart hammering and wide-awake with a sickening lurch -- slapped her palm desperately at her headboard and her wand in its bolted holster above her pillows.

Merlin, but she wished there was a gentler way to wake herself up.

The silencing charm on her bed curtains, at least, ensured that none of her year mates would strangle her in her sleep. And Prickle was the type of kneazle who could sleep through the entire castle falling down around their ears, so the heavy, warm weight stayed content across Shirayuki’s ankles, attempting to lure her back to slumber with indecent amounts of purring.

Shirayuki, alone, suffered the horrendous alarm spell.

A shift of agitation -- muzzy and sleep-addled, like the buzz of distant wasps -- looped about her sternum, tugging.

“Well,” she told Prickle, rubbing at her eyes and shifting up onto her elbows. “If he didn’t want to be a morning person he should have thought for a moment and realized that casting a highly illegal, highly temperamental soulbond spell on two students who had not given their consent would backfire on him in epic proportions. He can deal.”

After all, the whole thing was his stupid fault.

The agitation mounted, tugging more firmly, and Shirayuki scowled beneath her palm. A headache throbbed at her temples, and she felt sick, shaky, weak. Not dissimilar to how she often felt woken so suddenly, on little sleep, still exhausted and worn from the mountainous work assigned her, but much, much worse and with a significantly more frustrating cause.

Reaching unsteadily for her wand, she forced her wrist to move into a smooth clockwise circle, and then cast, “Tempus,” on the sudden uptick. A clock face wavered into perfect existence atop her wand point, hour hand at four, minute hand at ten.

Nearly ten hours since she had last seen him, and considering the distance -- Hufflepuff Basement versus Ravenclaw Tower, could this possibly have been a worse combination -- between them, it --

Was getting worse.

Last week hadn’t been nearly so bad. But each day the spell pulled on them tighter and tight, cinching them inward, pushing them hard until they were plummeting deeper inside each other, until struggling out, away, apart, became an excruciating exercise.

How bad, she wondered, would this have to get before they fixed it? How many hours would they have before the side effects became unbearable? Exactly how close would they need to be, for how long?

Ugh, it was too early to dwell on it.

A wave of her wand dismissed the spell into a dissipating, pearlescent fog, and she gripped the length of applewood in her fist as though for comfort, rubbing at her chest where she could feel him curled tightly in annoyance, woken by her own slap-dash heartbeat and sudden startlement.

Probably, she should say sorry; should go back to sleep and head into the Great Hall at a later hour, let the ache and nausea and exhaustion abate with his presence; should, no doubt, not have skipped out on performing the second-half of the ritual to end this on the last new moon.

But she wouldn’t, because N.E.W.T.s waited for no witch, and it was all his own fault.

So instead Shirayuki was going to get up, escape from the comforting weight of Prickle, and the soft glide of her warm duvet, and she was going to get dressed, and make certain that her robes were not on inside-out this time, and then Shirayuki was going to get some studying done, and to hell with Obi Karasu and this stupid, stupid soulbond.

If the agitation prickling along the barrier of her ribs eased, soothed, turned rueful and fond in response to whatever involuntary feelings of apology and guilt Shirayuki may or may not have felt at waking him up at 4:50 in the morning, then she just sniffed, annoyed, and ignored it, because she wasn’t going to say she was sorry, and if he knew that she was then that was cheating and did not count.

“This sucks,” Shirayuki told Prickle, who opened one glittering green eye and yawned, teeth gleaming, plumed tail twitching, and entirely without sympathy.

Quidditch.

Stupid, stupid quidditch.

Slumped in an armchair in the library hours later, Shirayuki glared blearily at the quill clenched between her fingers. The ink on the nib had long since dried, and Yuzuri, at this point, had both elbows on the table, chin cradled between her palms, watching her with interest.

“You know...”

“I do, actually, know a lot of things,” Shirayuki interrupted desperately. “What I do not know is how I’m going to get any work done if he insists on flying about every morning.”

Yuzuri snorted. “It is quidditch season, you know. And he is their best player.”

“He’s just a beater,” Shirayuki complained, glum. “Maybe if he was a chaser then I’d understand. Or seeker, even! But he just -- hits things --”

“Mm, yes,” Yuzuri grinned. “And he does it very well.”

Groaning, Shirayuki finally released her quill and allowed herself to slump forward onto the parchment that was meant to be twenty-three inches of Potions essay, and was, instead, mostly just staggered blotches and emptiness. Merlin, but her head ached. There wasn’t much, she thought, that she wouldn’t do for the kind of migraine that could be cured by just going to the infirmary.

But no. It could only be cured in one way.

And just -- what the hell was wrong with him?

Didn’t he know how stupid it was to be on a team during Seventh Year? He should have been focusing only on N.E.W.T.s, he should have been studying, not hundreds and hundreds of feet up in the air, dizzying heights, far above her and out of reach, their bond pulling and tugging, straining worse than it did with the entire distance of the castle between them.

What an idiot.

“I think I hate him,” she wailed, voice muffled by the crook of her elbow as she buried her face in her arms. “I am so tired.”

Yuzuri patted her head gently, hesitated, and then plucked at Shirayuki’s hair. “You should really put this up in a ponytail,” she tutted. “You’ve got a bad case of bed head, Shirayuki. I meant to tell you. You can’t go see him looking like this.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Shirayuki whimpered.

“Then do so elsewhere, please. I’ll watch your stuff, so just go. You know it won’t get any better until you do.”

Unfortunately, that was true. Because of the stupid bond Shirayuki had to give up valuable studying time to hunt down Karasu by the Hufflepuff dorms so she could snag him after quidditich practice. When he was all sweaty, and flushed, and encased in leather padding, and...

Ugh. This was the worst.

“Well, now you just look down-right flustered,” Yuzuri commented when Shirayuki finally leveraged herself back upright, waving her wand at Shirayuki pointedly. “You look like you could use --”

“A hug,” Shirayuki said, voice flat, and refusing to acknowledge the flush that wanted to burn her cheeks.

“Sure,” Yuzuri winked. “If you wanna call it that.”

Ten minutes later Shirayuki was stumbling past the portrait that led to the kitchens towards the cluster of barrels that disguised the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. She was practically one with the wall by the time she got there, and let herself slump into a defeated lump on the floor to wait.

“I want a nap,” she told the empty corridor sadly.

It was all well and good that Yuzuri could joke about Shirayuki getting some, but the truth of the matter was that the side effects of that stupid spell Obi had performed were awful. The migraine was a pulsing agony, her vision slick and blurred, white lights and nausea to the point of vomiting. If she could have convinced her sluggish body to go any faster she would have, but she couldn’t.

The real kicker, though, was how sluggish her brain felt. Mental exhaustion was the worst of the side effects in Shirayuki’s opinion. She had N.E.W.T.s to conquer. A mental hiatus for any length of time was too long.

Despite the truly impressive amount of work she’d gotten done last new moon, Shirayuki did, indeed, deeply regret not finishing the ritual needed to break the soulbond spell. She just hadn’t realized how pervasive this spell would become. How incredibly, absolutely consuming, and impossible to ignore.

Next time, she promised. Next time I will not forget!

But in the meantime, she supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing if she just closed her eyes. Just for a moment. Karasu wasn’t going to show up any sooner just because she kept her eyes open, after all, so there was no point in bothering. She’d just...rest. A little.

And if she fell asleep listening to the fast-paced beat of another heart echoing inside her chest, well, no one had to know.

Shirayuki woke up when another body slumped down to the floor beside hers, almost close enough to touch.

“Mornin’,” Obi grinned, looking weary. There were bruises beneath his eyes, and his skin looked pale, soured. Even his eyes were glassy, too-yellow when usually they were a bewildering blend of darkened topaz and rich honey and pale gold. A bead of sweat lingered on his brow. “You look like shit, Akagi.”

“Touch me,” she said.

“Holy -- shhh, jesus fuck, Akagi!” Nervous, Obi darted his gaze around the hallway, but he must have waited to wake her until the rest of his teammates had gone inside, and there was no one in the hallway to have heard.

Honestly, Shirayuki wasn’t certain she would have cared if there had been.

“Touch me,” she ordered, voice slurred with sleep and pain, and lifted up her arm to offer her hand. It trembled, slightly.

Grumbling, Obi pulled off his quidditch glove and, after only a small hesitation, laid his palm against hers. Instantly, relief swelled through Shirayuki. It doubled as she caught the ricochet from Obi, the two of them overlapping, mingling, pressing into each other too intimately. “Ohhh,” Obi groaned, leaning the back of his head against the stone wall and rocking it there, eyes closed, an expression of agonized bliss on his face.

Shirayuki bit her lip, trying not to think of Yuzuri’s suggestion. Trying not to think about anything other than how much she needed to get back to the library as soon as touching Obi stopped being as necessary as breathing.

“It’s like a fucking drug,” Obi complained. “Complete with body-wrecking withdrawals. I almost fell off my broom today, Akagi.”

Shirayuki frowned.

“Don’t,” Obi said, scrunching up his nose and refusing to open his eyes to look at her. “Ugh, I can feel your worry, all right, and your disdain for our practice sessions, stop it, that’s enough. What do you have against quidditch, anyway?”

“Nothing. It’s just -- distracting.”

Distracting, like the low-burn of arousal she felt from Obi every time the pain went away, a knee-jerk reaction. Like the horniness he carried with him every day, all the time, because he was seventeen and hungry and it was ruining Shirayuki’s life, because before this she had had control of her hormones, she had been better than this, damn it.

“You are so weird, Akagi, I don’t even know where to start." Obi sighed, lashes fluttering as he forced his eyes to open and remain so. “C’mon, we gotta go before any one comes by and sees us. Do you -- No, wait. I’m starving, actually. Have you eaten?”

Shirayuki admitted, “No. I didn’t want to loose it when the side effects set in. And I need coffee. Lots of coffee.”

Laughing, Obi went to his feet. Their fingers were linked, locked, never letting go. Shirayuki was tugged up with him, helpless to do anything but follow him down the sort distance to the entrance to the kitchens, basking in the way their momentary contentedness layered, sweet and soft.

No stranger to the kitchens -- late night study sessions in Ravenclaw common room necessitated copious amounts of snack food, after all, and Shirayuki had done her due diligence in retrieving it at three in the morning -- Shirayuki tickled the appropriate pear, grasped the resulting door knob giggling against her palm, and led them inside.

“Oh! Obi Karasu, sir! You has come again!”

Shirayuki’s forward march to a cleared space at one of the long, rough hewn tables bisecting the massive, high-ceiling room was brought to an abrupt halt. For a moment, Shirayuki thought about twisting her hand out of Obi’s grip. Most of the side effects of the spell had eased, though relief still shivered beneath her skin at the prolonged contact. But it was enough to get by; she could have easily escaped.

Sighing, she turned toward the house-elf quivering before them, and summoned up a smile, made all the more easier for the throb of fond affection Obi felt, suffusing her with an indulgence she might otherwise not have found without coffee.

“Now, Bonky,” Obi started, voice warm and curled through with amusement, “You know I couldn’t possibly stay away from you. How’s it been going?”

“Oh, Master Obi! We is just fine, just fine!” The house-elf, knee-high, with large, gleaming eyes and a neat, pale-yellow shawl wrapped about his little body, grinned fit to split his face. “Master Obi is too kind to ask after such as us, sir.”

“Is that so?” Obi asked, sounding convincingly surprised; but Shirayuki felt the frission of helplessness and frustration course through him, there then gone, and turned to look at him. Obi glanced back, eyes all honey-glaze and secrets. He looked back at the house-elf, but Shirayuki lost the thread of the conversation, thinking: he always did have a lot to say about house-elf rights in History, didn’t he?

Shuffling closer, Shirayuki took a deep breath in, let it out, and leaned against Obi’s side, arm to arm. He shifted beneath her weight, and she felt the sharp, bright note of his surprise before Bonky pulled him back into conversation.

Eventually, Bonky released them to be fed.

A veritable army of house-elves saw the two of them seated at a table near the massive fire, and a small spread of the breakfast mirrored above in the Great Hall had been set out for them. The crush of sound was almost comforting. The clang of copper pots and the thwock of knives, ladles ringing, dishes being washed eased the heightened, too-aware silence between them as they muddled through the indignity of eating one handed.

Shirayuki thought about being embarrassed. Thought about being horrified that handsome, clever, popular Obi Karasu was watching her get cream on her cheeks and nose, golden flaky bits of pastry all over her robes and sweater. Thought Yuzuri, at least, would be mortified at the way she shoved food into her mouth, heedless, reckless, without grace or poise or manners.

She had seen him far worse, after all, and that when they had been little more than acquaintances; when he had been Zen’s friend, an irritation on her peripheral that was too loud, too bright, too boisterous, glittering gold and shifting shadow, secret darkness too deep and treacherous to ever risk the venture.

And then Obi had wrenched that choice away.

So she stuffed herself full, uncaring, her fingers shifting, sliding, catching against his, their knuckles grazing the rough wood of the bench, pulling and tugging and readjusting, and never, ever letting each other slip.

Obi Karasu could deal with her, all of her, every single improper part of her.

He had no one but himself to blame, after all.

Later, after they’d each eaten their fill, Shirayuki said, voice low: “They’re quite fond of you.”

“Hm?”

“The house-elves,” Shirayuki clarified with a faint smile, watching him steadily.

Obi grimaced, free hand cupped around a chilled goblet of pumpkin juice while he straddled the wide bench, his thighs -- still strapped into all-too-enticing, corrugated leather protective gear -- flexing as he shifted forward. Shirayuki sipped from her own hefty mug of sweetened coffee in a helpless bid to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.

Quidditch uniforms were the worst.

“House-elves have always been pretty fond of Hufflepuffs,” Obi dismissed. “And I mean. I’m not a part of S.P.E.W. or anything, which I think they appreciate. It’s not like I do anything in particular, I’m just, you know, naturally charming and awesome.”

“You treat them with respect,” said Shirayuki, and she opened her mouth to say more -- that he treated them better than most humans, like sentient beings deserving of affection and equality, like friends, and that it was all the more important for being a conscious choice -- but she felt the twist of his agitation and discomfort sharp in her gut, and let it go.

“I’ve never been to the Hufflepuff common room.”

“The Basement?” Obi asked, surprised. “No? Huh, that’s right. You Ravenclaws don’t really party much.” He grinned, a bright gleam of white teeth against dark skin. “Pity, we’ve got some good party favors. I would totally get you high, Akagi, you’d love it.”

If Shirayuki was very, very lucky, Obi took the hot, vibrant burst of arousal in her gut at his stupid, perfect grin as anger. She muttered into her coffee, “That is a waste of valuable studying time. Really, Obi, we’re in our Seventh Year.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Obi said, rolling his eyes. Between them, their clasped hands shifted, awkward, uncertain. “Anyway, wanna come with? I can show you.”

“I should really get back to the library.”

“Oh, my god,” Obi groaned, tipping his head back. Shirayuki stared at his throat, frustrated. In her chest her heart beat fast, hard, and she saw the moment it echoed in Obi’s because he started, chin coming back down with his brows raised up in question.

He decided, “Yeah, no, you need a break, Akagi. If you spend any more time in that library you’re going to actually become a fixture there, permanently, and then you won’t ever get to do anything with all that knowledge you’re hoarding.”

“No,” she said, and watched the way Karasu moved beneath the surge of her emotion, the roiling morass of half-thought, visceral reaction; the sting of irritation, the hot buzz of anger, the helpless drip of desire and how much Shirayuki hated feeling that way.

“I need,” she tried, again, swallowing hard, “to go back and study. Yuzuri is waiting for me. But --”

Obi wasn’t looking at her. He was looking down at their joined hands, and she could see the shift of his jaw as he clenched his teeth, the furrow between his brows; could feel him in her veins, a black tide -- regret, shame, acceptance -- that threatened to drown before pulling back.

“We do need to talk about this,” Shirayuki admitted. With a sigh, she slipped her hand free from his. “We -- the new moon isn’t for another two weeks, and we can’t go on like this, right? Pretending like nothing is happening and then almost -- almost falling off of brooms, really. So we... We’re going to set up a plan, a -- a schedule, or something. So I’ll see you later, Karasu.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, slipping from the bench and standing, stretching, as if he hadn’t a single care, as if this was nothing at all. When Obi’s voice got sharp and flat, like a smooth sheet of tin, Shirayuki could hear the emotion strike off it like raindrops on a roof. He thought he was subtle. He was not subtle.

Honestly, it was endearing and stupid. He was endearing and stupid.

Shirayuki didn’t fight the surge of affection that got stuck in her throat, and huffed a sigh at the way his eyebrow twitched, feeling it. “You’re a menace,” she complained. “And I need to study. Don’t you need to study?”

“Eh,” said Obi, rocking back on his heels. He was waffling, now, confused by the swift change of her emotion, of the back-and-forth. She was exhausted, confused, furious.

None of this was fair. She hadn’t asked for this. For Obi in his stupid, sexy quidditch uniform, stretched lean and long and rippling before her, still sweat-damp and beautiful, and --

Eventually, Shirayuki realized she was staring because Obi was staring back, jaw dropped a little with surprise.

It was the surprise, really, that jerked Shirayuki away from her hormones. Irritation welled up in her, warring with the need to lick the sweat off Obi’s collar bones and neck until he was shaking beneath her, gasping, and --

A blush suffused his skin, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Did he have to look so surprised that she found him attractive? Really? What was she, a rock?

“You need to leave,” Shirayuki huffed, shoving at her fringe. “I mean it. I don’t have time for --” she waved her hand at him, fluttering it in the air in disgust, “-- this.”

His heart flipped in her chest -- lub-da-lub -- and --

“Right,” Obi babbled, edging toward the door out of the kitchen, sounding wildly confused by what he was reading off of Shirayuki’s emotions. “I’m gonna -- study, too, I guess, if just so you’ll stop nagging me? And shower. Cause I must stink. Rank, right? I left practice as soon as we hit ground to find you and so -- I, uh, sweat. Stink. Shower!”

“Go,” Shirayuki managed, before her stupid sex drive could quite finish latching onto Obi showering.

this thing wants to be some weird mash-up of angst and comedy or some weird shit and also apparently i really want to spend too much time talking about how badly shirayuki hates her father because i really think teenage shirayuki in an environment like this would not be quite so cool with daddy being awol, and there is just, a lot of things that are cropping up that i’m tripping along behind too slowly to keep up with, so yeah, we’ll see if anything else ever comes of this, HOPE YOU HAD SOME FUN THOUGH, i figured the least i could do was save the silly pervy-esque bit for you guys /thumbs up??

#obiyukimadness #accidental soul bond #obiyuki #the other hp au #my fic #ans

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zacekova · 6 years

Text

Tagged by @jaygirl987 and @k-itsmaywriting thanks ladies!

Tagging: @akai-vampire @the-universalfiction @ptw30 @ruledeargremlinchild @tierfal @kolivans @perksofbeingawaifu

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

It was a poor, ignorant attempt at translation into Japanese and I don’t even want to know what it probably actually says because I know it’s not what I meant it to be. I don’t wanna talk about it.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/favorites, follows/subscriptions, visitor hits, kudos)

On AO3 Every Hour Has Come To This. It’s a Stony fic based off of this fanvideo. On tumblr, Legacy.

3. What is your FFnNet/AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

The same as my tumblr icon, because Kurogane and Fai will always be one of my favorite OTPs, no matter how many years go by or how much I get sucked in to other fandoms.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

The obiyuki community is usually pretty about commenting, but I don’t think I have an single favorite person.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Um, different ones for different fandoms.

Literally anything by tierfal for FMA;B is a delight and a half and I remain determined to read everything of hers but I keep going back to reread stuff like her Leading The Blind AU.

I’ve read the Kurofai fic Entanglement like 8 times by now. It’s sweet and sensual and full of feels. Such a nice, peaceful “ending” to the chaos that is the manga.

@sabraeal ‘s Rarely Pure and Never Simple and @superhappybubbleslove Watchtower are my favorite Obiyuki fics and I think I’ve only read them twice each but they are a delight.

And there’s like half a dozen or more Voltron fics I’ve read multiple times.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

49 subscriptions and 114 bookmarks. But some of those subscriptions are for authors, not fics.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

Modern day.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

20 people are subscribed to me specifically, but there’s 167 subscriptions to my works in full. 508 bookmarks.

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

Maybe, but I like reading it more. And I’m not feeling brave, I never even reblog stuff for it because I just... can’t. I’ll enjoy it in secret.

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

Oh updating for sure, which basically means I wish I were better about just sitting down and writing because even if I’m not really in the mood I know if I just force myself to I can usually get a decent amount written.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

I think it’s probably an even split, or close to it.

12. How many stories have you posted on FFNet/AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

Fifty-seven.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

Just nine, most of which are already published, I just haven’t done anything with the docs.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

I’ve been writing them down lately since I’m getting more ideas than I can keep up with.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Nope. I don’t think I could unless I felt like they and I had the same style, or that the characters we switched between fit our styles. And that I felt like we were of very similar skill levels in writing.

16. How did you discover FFNet/AO3?

FFNet came as a by product of being in the fanfiction world but I stumbled upon AO3 while looking for doujinshi. I hadn’t even known fanfiction was a thing at the time, or had such a stereotypical view on it that I legitimately didn’t understand what it really is.

It’s really not all kinky porn

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on FFNet/AO3?

Um, I have some of the most Harlock x Yama|Logan fics on AO3 but I don’t really communicate with the few fans and authors much. It’s a really tiny, disconnected fandom, as far as I can tell.

Beyond that, no, not at all.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Just my name.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

Writing in general, no, not really. As for fanfiction, well... Sin_of_the_Fallen and I were chatting back and forth on a Harlock fic and lamenting the low number of stories for our favorite pairing and they said that someone needed to lead the change, that that someone could end up being me. It stuck with me and literally two weeks later I published the first chapter of what ended up becoming the most popular fic for that pairing. And here I am.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

Don’t be shy, don’t let nerves stop you. I spent the entirety of those two weeks fretting over whether I was good enough, if I would ever finish the whole thing, if anyone would like it, etc. etc. And there’ve been plenty of things since then that didn’t go as well as I hoped but in general I’ve gained a lot of confidence in my writing, and a lot of joy, that I wouldn’t have if I’d never taken that first step.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

I am getting better at plotting things out, at least the longer stuff. With short fics I still tend to wing it based on the general idea I have in my head.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

No, thank goodness. I have a fragile heart, lack of commentary is bad enough.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

UST. Sexual stuff in general, I think.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

- Editing a few things I’ve already published, just cleaning them up.

- rewriting/editing and publishing a modern day CSI obiyuki fic

- a handful of old fics in various fandoms that I am determined to finish one day but haven’t touched in months or years

- an absolutely massive Thulaz arranged marriage AU that is still mostly in the plotting phase, figuring out exactly how I want things to go and wrap up before I commit to posting anything. Any of my wonderful Voltron friends want to help me out with plotting and beta-ing?

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

Oh all the time, as you can see from the above.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

Unofficially, like 500 words, but I’m so bad about meeting it that I pretend it doesn’t exist.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Definitely.

28. What is your favorite story(s) that you’ve written?

Currently, Another Chance, For You, an Izanayuki (Shirayuki x Izana) reincarntion AU.

29. What is your least favorite story(s) that you’ve written?

Kuro-mean. I don’t even know why I published it, it’s so dumb. I was honestly surprised it got any kudos at all.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

Not much different than where I am now, just better, hopefully.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Scene descriptions/setting, world building, backstory.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

F-ing dialogue.

33. Why do you write?

Because I love creating stories and sharing them with people who will enjoy them.

#ask meme #about me

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 7 years

Note

Just for you bubbles: Lets have some obiyuki food sharing with FEELINGS

Belling the Cat (Chapter One)

“Are you okay, Obi? Do you need me to carry you back?”

He laughs. Or at least he tries. Pain shoots through him like lightning as he leans back against the tree; His throat feels raw, breath rattling wetly in hischest as he struggles to breathe. Every inhale is a trial, every exhale a release encouraging his surrender.It’s too much effort to turn his head, so he shifts his eyes towards Torou andsmiles bitterly at her intent expression.

Ah, she’ll be getting a much larger cut without him in thepicture.

“It’s fine,” he rasps. “We finished the job, didn’t we?”

Her eyes round like a doe, but he’s not an idiot. Alow, hoarse sound vibrates through him until the back of histhroat constricts, turning it into a wheeze.

He doesn’t look away - not when she is capable of slitting his throat with only a tokenstruggle. One move from her will set the rest of them upon him like a pack of wolves. He needs toleave before any of them get it in their heads to finish off what their targets started.

Sinking his hand into the loamy earth, he wraps an arm around his middle and pusheshimself back, using the tree as a brace. His feet slip in the mud, dropping him abruptly before hecatches himself. Clenching his teeth, he holds himself tight to prevent the scream thatwants to rip out of his throat.

Torou flinches, one footshifting towards him, and Obi glares. Even lame dogs have teeth and he intends to show them to her if she would but try to take him.

He coughs, sharp bursts of pain stabbing him from theinside, and he brings his full weight onto his feet. “The money…” he gasps onthe inhale and swallows. The back of his throat tastes like metal. “It’s mine.”

She’s frozen, her eyes locked on him. She slowly nods.

With one last sneer, he turns. This way, he thinks,is the way back. He can collect his money and find a discreet place todrink this pain into numbness. And maybe find a physician. He might need one this time.

Shuffling, he limps into the forestsembrace, waiting for the knife to his back that never comes.

~ ~ ~

It’s pouring.

His breath fogs his vision as he inches forward andthe rain slices through the canopy, stabbing his skin until it is numb.

At least he can’t feel the way his skin gapes openanymore.

His clothes are soaked through, heavy and pulling himtowards the ground with each step. How much longer was it going to take toreach the rendezvous point like this? Hours? Days?

It’s colder, he thinks, than when he started. Nightmust be coming soon. Or had night passed already into morning? He pauses, leaning against a tree and closing his eyes. Pressing his hand to his stomach, his body gurgles in protest and helooks down. His vest and belt are stained red now.

Obi stumbles, falling to his knees and he stares at hisfront. What was he doing again?

Rendezvous. He needed to make to to the rendezvouspoint.

Right.

But… he had time. He could- he could rest… for a littlebit. Just a bit.

~ ~ ~

The sound of rain is deafening now, pounding the earth in a relentless cacophony of noise. He watches as tiny rivers slide between his knees, soil giving way to slowly suck him underground.

Heavy boots smack against the muck, rousing him from his daze. Blinking slowly, he turns his head until he sees the outline of a man approaching him in the dim, heavy coat drenched with rain and caked with mud. At his hip, Obi can see the bulge of a short sword.

It’s a wonder they found him so quickly.

Obi stares blankly at the man as the other appraises him with a grim look. He’s broad and able bodied–likely an excellent swordsman in his time–but older. That’s good. Older men tend to move more slowly, especially in the damp. Keeping one hand pressed to his gut, he lets the fingers of his other twitch towards his blades.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” the man comments.

Obi exhales, as close as he can come to a laugh. That was an understatement. The man smiles, the sort of warm expression that would put a lesser man at ease, and takes a step closer. Silently, Obi palms two knives from their hold, sliding them between his fingers. Just a few more steps… just a few more and he can sever his achilles tendons. It’ll be enough to maim. Enough to get away. He’s had enough death for today.

“Why don’t you come with me?” the man suggests. “I don’t live far from here. We can get you dried off and patched up.”

He’s sure.

The man hesitates just out of reach and looks at him, considering, before extending his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Obi swings his arm around, slashing the air and instantlyregretting it as the wound at his chest rips and his blades meet nothing but air.

The man holds his palms forward, placating. “Calm down,son. You’re hurt.”

Obi bares his teeth, clambering to his feet and slipping in the mud as he stumbles forward. The man backs away slowly when he flips the knives in his hands to stab.

“Come on. You don’t want to do this.”

He’s right; he doesn’t. He wants to crawl back under the tree and not move, but surrender isn’t an option, is it? The man backs up further, opening his coat to reveal the hilt of his sword and Obi charges forward.

The man draws, blocking him easily. Metal clashes and Obi throws his full weight forward, attempting to force them both to the ground, but the other’s footing is solid. The man shoves him back with a grunt and Obi slides, almost tripping over his own feet.

Shaking his head to clear his swimming vision, Obi charges again, swinging his arms wildly as the man deftly dodges each blow. His ankles wobble as he surges forward and the man side steps him, sending Obi tilting forward, his blades fumbling from his weakening grasp as he falls face first onto the wet ground.

He gasps, feeling every bone in his body rattle with pain. Recovering, he catches the glint of metal in front of him and he crawls forward through the sludge, retrieving one blade before spinning up onto his knees with a scowl.

Lightning flashes before the sharp crack of thunder snaps overhead and the man lowers his sword.

“I think you’re done, son.”

Obi bares his teeth, dragging himself to his feet once more. He sways. “No.”

The man’s weathered face flattens, his expression turning towards pity. “Yes.”

In the next moment, it feels like a club has beencracked across the base of his skull. His vision stutters, numbness shooting straight down his spineand he tips forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see pale white hairplastered to a paler and far more unforgiving face.

Oh. There were two of them.

Of course.

How careless.

He never feels himself hit the ground.

~ ~ ~

He wakes again as he is jarred, the smell of wet horse dragging across his face before he is flipped forward and then settled over two arms. Hands slide under his knees and shoulder blades while his head and arms fall limply back. Against his wrist, he can feel rough strips of hemp digging into his skin.

“Mukaze!” he hears a man call out through the sound of rainfall. “Are you injured? What happened?!”

“The blood’s not mine,” the voice vibrates against his side, splitting his ears. “I’ll tell you about it later. Are there still people in the clinic?”

“Aye!” the man replies. “Shirayuki and several of them are still inside.”

“Then run ahead and let them know I have work for them.”

~ ~ ~

The warmth of the room is as suffocating as the sound of at least five voices raising in a riot. His nose is assaulted with the overpowering smell of herbs and bitter tinctures.

“Dad!”

“What is this, Mukaze?”

The chest he is pressed against huffs. “We found him in the mud.”

“Why did you tie him?”

The man- Mukaze, was it? makes an embarrassed noise. “He was, ah- a little unruly. I didn’t want to takethe risk of him snapping my neck on the way home.”

There is a strong sound of disapproval before an older woman’s voice breaks in. “Lay him down and take off his clothes. And for the gods sake, untie him. We needto see how bad it is.”

Obi is jarred and then flopped forward, his face pressed against smooth wood as fingers work at the rope. “He’s lost a lotof blood and is a bit wild. Itoya and I think he might have something to do with the attack on the Brigalti house. I don’t know how likely he is to—”

The ropes part and his hands are free. Obi stomps his foot down on the man’s boot, flinging his head back and feeling his vision jar when he hears the satisfying snap of his skull meeting his captors face.

“Son of a bitch!”

There is a chorus of screams and he twists himself around, his hand reaching for his blades and finding them missing. Blearily, he looks around the room, scanning for the door and pushing himself towards it.

“Stop him! Stop him!” someone yells. Wood scrapes against thefloor, glass shatters and someone curses. Two arms band around his his elbows, yanking him backwards and pulling the wound open further still. He wails.

Somewhere, a woman screams. “Stop, stop. Get him tothe table.”

Obi kicks at empty air before dragging his feet. He’s lifted, flung onto a hard surface and his arms pinned. “Your belt, Itoya!”

He panics, smooth leather sliding across his wristsand he bucks up, freeing himself to swing his fist. It never lands. One hand wraps around thesloppy punch and slams it back to the table before another body throws itselfacross his torso, trapping his other arm and knocking the wind from his lungs.

“Hold still!”

Obi kicks wildly, roaring as he feels the leather loopback around his wrist and then tighten, binding him firmly. At his other side, someone ducks under the table, grabbing hisclawed hand and repeating the treatment. He yanks frantically, his throat rawand his eyes stinging.

“Kazuki! Get his feet!”

“What? Why do I-?”

“Kazuki!”

“Okay! Okay!”

The weight is gone from his chest, but he is still helddown by his shoulders. Another weight crosses his thighs and his lungs seize,screaming hoarsely and wrenching uselessly at his legs as he feels somethingwrap around his ankles.

He catches movement, a cloth coming at his face and arches his neck, snapping his teeth at it. It flinches back.

“Someone hold his head!”

Pressure winds around his skull, and he twists hisneck, but the hands are like a vice pressing at his crown and jaw, forcing hismouth shut. He roars, the sound muffled and weak through his teeth before thesoft press of cotton is over his lips and nose. He holds his breath, yanking franticallyat where both of his arms and his ankles are tied. Panic strangles him, forcinghim to take a deep gasp and—

“That’s right,” a soft female voice cooes. He flinches, trying to pull away but the hands hold him firm. He drags in anothermouthful of air, the strength draining from him. Everything is slowing down. “Deepbreaths. Take deep breaths.”

The acrid stench of fermented berries works fast,numbing his fingertips and toes before working up to his shins… his elbows. He triesto hold his breath.

“You’re okay.”

He whines brokenly, pinching open his eyes to see a sea of green hovering over him.

He doesn’t want to die. He always said- he always saidhe was ready, when the time came, but he’s not.

“Shhh…” Something touches to his brow that ripplesthrough his whole body. ”It’s okay. You’re safe. Sleep.”

Doesn’t want… to die….

~ ~ ~

It’s dark, and he is far, far away from his body, thelull of his heartbeat steady in his ears. It’s pleasant. Warm.

His eyes open.

A woman, face and hair obscured behind a white mask,stares at a body laid flat and lifeless before her. A faint itch vibratesacross his skin and her fingers draw back, stained red and holding a bloody threaded needle. She turns her head away, a muffled voice carrying itself somewhere else,murmuring words he cannot catch.

His eyes closed.

Icy fingers wrap around his heart, slipping lead intohis arms and legs. He can’t move. The great, gaping maw of a specter opens wideand licks the blood from his open wounds. Its touch freezes him down to thebone, seeping under his skin to take his lungs hostage. He can’t breathe.

His eyes open.

The dull glow of candles warms the dark and he canfeel the back of his head being cradled, another massaging his throat.Something bitter is being forced through his lips.

He’s drowning.

He sputters, gasping, the poison flooding his throat.It doesn’t burn like the others had said it would. There is a soft exclamationnext to him, the shuffling of chairs and raising of voices. Green fills hisvision again.

His vision shifts, his body jared and cheek comes intocontact with a hard surface. Fluid expels from his nostrils and throat.

Now it burns.

His eyes close.

Warmth surrounds his body again, lapping his skin in agentle rhythm. A rough cloth passes over his skin, leaving a trail of cold inits wake.

Someone is humming.

Suddenly, there is the jar of wood rattlingrhythmically in time to a fist. His heart seizes.

“I’m not done yet!” a voice echoes through a small,enclosed space.

“Don’t leave him too long in that water,” another calls from further away.

There’s the sound of grumbling and this time thenearer speaks far more softly. “I’ll leave him in as long as it takes to getrid of this stench.”

His eyes open.

He’s being shifted, the dull knife of pain registeringin the back of his mind. Blonde hair and eyes almost like his come into hisvision. At first he thinks a girl is the owner of the scowling face, but hisvoice corrects him.

“You’re heavy,” he complains.

His eyes close.

~ ~ ~

Pain registers, full and bright, as he opens his eyes to a sun drenched room. It is manageable, but he doesn’t recognize this place.

Heart in his throat, he tilts his head, scanning the space quickly. In the corner of the room, a slip of a woman stands with her back to him, working some concoction over a stove. Dragging his gaze from her, he looks around for his clothes, knowing without looking that the fabric wrapping his body is not his. It is far too heavy.

His eyes land on his beltand hat on the corner table - hopefully his knives are there, but he sees nothing else. He pushes himself up with a grunt, surprised at how much effort it takes, how shaky his elbows are under the weight of his torso.

Glancing down, he sees that he is wearing an oversized white shirt. He’s not sure if he iswearing pants.

“Where are my clothes?” he wants to demand, but it comes out as a rasp. What’s wrong with his voice?When did it ever sound so weak?

The woman starts, turning around with wide eyes. She ignores his question. “You’re already awake!” she smiles. “Are you hungry?”

He is. “Where are my clothes?” he repeats with a glare.

Her smile falters before she folds her hands in front of her. “We had to cut them off of you,” she informs him before gesturing at the table. “That is all that survived.”

Obi grunts, annoyed. He liked those pants.

“Don’t get up,” she says when he shifts towards the edge of the bed.

He scowls at her. She frowns.

“I’m not interested in sewing you back just because you’re being stubborn.”

Obi glowers. “You can’t make me stay.”

The woman’s face becomes markedly unimpressed. “Fine,” she says, waving her hand towards the door as she turns her back to him once more. “Thedoor is open. I won’t stop you.”

Obi stares at her back suspiciously before swinging his legs off theedge of the bed and furrowing his brows at how lifeless they feel. Slowly, he shifts himself towards standing and his head swims. Catching himself on the headboard, he holds himself for the space of two breaths before his wobbly knees give out, sending him careening directly to the floor.

He groans in agony. Across the room, he can hear a soft exhale of exasperation before the woman pads over to him.

“What did you do to me?” he asks, staring at her out of the corner of his eye. He can’t look too intimidating as a heap on the floor, but he will surely try.

She crouches down. “You’ve beenin bed for the last two weeks while your injuries healed,” she says. “It’ll take some time before your body is up for walking again.”

His ire rises. “You drugged me?”

She nods. “Yes. You shouldn’t have to feel that much pain.”

Obi blinks. Oh.

Her hands reach towards him and he flinches. The woman pulls back, frowning. “I’m going to help you back to bed,” she says. “Unless you like your newhome on the floor.”

His lips twist petulantly. “No offense, Miss, but shouldn’t you ask someone bigger to do this?”

Her expression flattens once again. “You’re not thatheavy.”

He wants to tell her that the pretty blonde boy disagreed, but she is sliding her arm under his armpit, adjusting him tositting before wrapping the other under his knee and pulling him across both her shoulders. With a soft grunt, she pushes herself up high enough into a crouch to roll him back onto the mattress.

He lands with only a mild sense of pain and stares.

Face flushed, she smiles over at him, panting. “See?” she grins, pushing her hair out of her face. “Now, unless you have any other objections, may Isuggest some food?”

Obi feels his heart twist in his chest. He nods.

~ ~ ~

The young Miss sits at bedside, blowing on spoonful of porridge, a bowl cradled in her lap. When she holds it out towards him, he hesitates. He wants to do it himself.

She looks at him earnestly, pushing the spoon closer to him and clenches his jaw before relaxing, slowly opening his mouth. Her lips tilt in a small grin as he takes it, swallowing with very little effort. It’s thick and a littlesweet.

She pulls the spoon back, lowering her gaze. “By the way,” she says, scoopingup another bite and blowing on it. “My name is Shirayuki. What’s yours?”

His brow furrows as he stares at her, trying to figure what she’s about. She peeks up at him from underneath the hood of her lashes and he looks away.

What’s the harm?

“Call me Obi.”

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kaedix · 7 years

Text

A Light Jog

Obiyuki Modern AU Fluff Fic

“You want me…to teach you how to jog?” Obi asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“Yes,” Shirayuki said, her shoulders set back with what she hoped was confidence. “I'd like to get in better shape, and I've seen you out jogging in the mornings so I thought maybe I could get your help - ”

“Miss, if you can't put one foot in front of the other at a slightly faster pace than walking, you may be past my help,” Obi said, laughing as Shirayuki’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

Shirayuki pushed against him playfully, though she barely moved him. The man was solid. “You know what I mean. Teach me the best trails, good breathing technique, stretches I can do to…hurt less after.” She shrugged. “Stuff like that. And you can say no, I just thought maybe it would be fun to - go together.”

Shirayuki caught the brief wrinkling of his brow before Obi broke into a soft smile.

“I'd love a jogging partner,” he said. “No guarantees I'm a good mentor, though.”

Shirayuki beamed. “Thank you so much, Obi. Can we go tomorrow? Is that too soon?”

Shirayuki was used to being awake at odd hours, but somehow waking up at six in the morning for jogging was the hardest thing in the world.

She ate a small bowl of oatmeal before donning her new workout gear - a pair of spandex capris and a bright green moisture wicking tank. She pulled on her shoes - bright blue with orange laces - and tried to shove down the nagging thought that maybe she should use her already broken in shoes instead of these hastily-bought-the-night-before new ones. But they were cute and seemed roomy and made her feel bouncy as she stood, so she figured she might be okay.

Shirayuki filled up her water bottle and checked the clock. He would be here in ten minutes. Suddenly nervousness replaced her tiredness. What on earth was she worried about? Jogging wasn't hard. And Obi was easy to talk to. He wouldn't tease her if she sucked - at least not in a mean way. Still, she found herself gripping the kitchen counter a little too forcefully.

Obi arrived right on time, rapping softly on the apartment door.

“Obi, hi,” Shirayuki said as she opened the door, smiling at him. His hair was sleep mussed but his eyes were bright, and he stood with one hand casually behind his head.

“Morning, Miss.” He returned her smile. “Ready to go?”

Shirayuki nodded, holding her water bottle tight in her hands as she stepped out onto the porch with him, closing the door softly behind her.

“You look great in that green,” Obi said, giving her a nod. “I'm comforted knowing I won't lose you in a crowd.”

Shirayuki smacked his arm. “Stop it. And thank you.” She looked him up and down, intending to return the compliment, but all that came out of her mouth was, “Um.” She had somehow failed to see that his jogging shorts were…missing a great deal of fabric.

Obi grinned. “Don't let me distract you. Maybe it's better if you we jog side by side.”

Shirayuki blushed so fiercely she was afraid Obi would feel the heat radiating off of her. She shook her head, determined to look at his face and his face alone. “I'm not distracted,” she said shakily. “They're very nice.” She hoped he took her meaning of they as his shorts being nice and not his thighs, although they definitely were.

Obi started them off at a slow pace, leading them through a park that Shirayuki had passed many times. As Obi asked how she had slept, Shirayuki thought to herself, .This isn’t bad. I can actually jog. My body can totally handle this.

Her body couldn't handle this.

About a half hour into their route, Shirayuki had told Obi not to go easy on her.

“Are there any hills or anything you like to go on? Or harder trails? I think I could do more.”

Obi frowned. “I don't want to push you too much on your first day. Let's just build up your distance first.”

“Just one hill. I can do it,” were Shirayuki’s famous last words.

It started with her calves burning; then her lungs. She tried to keep up a conversation with Obi, but soon found little lights swimming in front of her eyes. Her stomach flipped and the back of her heels felt raw, but she could see the top of the hill and so she kept moving up, knowing she would find relief if she just reached the top -

Her feet hit level ground and she felt herself sway haphazardly. She almost stumbled off the trail, but a firm arm caught her around the waist - and she vomited into the bushes.

“Shirayuki!” Obi’s voice was edged with urgency. He held her patiently as she finished emptying her stomach.

“I‘m okay,” Shirayuki said, spitting out the taste in her mouth. There were tears running down her cheeks, but she was too tired to brush them away.

Obi gently sat her down on the path. “Put your head between your legs,” he commanded. He plopped her water bottle in front of her. “Sip when you can, slowly.”

Shirayuki felt her heartbeat pounding in her head, and a thick haze of sweaty humidity lingered around her head. She did as Obi instructed, sipping her water slowly and wondering how she got so out of shape. She carried heavy plants frequently and stood on her feet for hours at a time, but she supposed that she was fooling herself thinking that was any sort of strenuous exercise.

She breathed deeply. She'd really messed this up. Poor Obi. She slowly raised her head to look into his face, wishing she hadn't when she saw the mix of emotions there.

“I'm really, really sorry, Obi,” Shirayuki said, surprised at how raspy her voice was.

Obi’s face shifted into something close to anger. “It's my fault,” he said. “I shouldn't have taken you up the hill. I knew it would probably be too much. I'm sorry.”

“No.” Shirayuki shook her head and immediately regretted it as the pounding intensified. “I'm the one who wanted to do something harder. I didn't listen to you.” She put a hand on his bare knee. “Thank you for catching me, Obi. And for letting me try the hill even though you knew it was a dumb idea.”

Obi eyed her hand on his leg. “Let me know when you're well enough to get up,” he said quietly.

They sat quietly for a few minutes while Shirayuki focused on breathing and sipping.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I'm good. Let's go.”

Obi immediately sprung up, grabbing her water bottle and helping her slowly to her feet. With his back facing her, he knelt slightly lower with his hands out behind him.

“Hop on,” he insisted. It wasn't a suggestion.

Shirayuki slid her arms around his neck, awkwardly shuffling to grip her knees around his sides. She bit her lip as his hands came under her thighs to lift her up. He did it with ease, and his grasp was soft, but she felt secure. She adjusted her hands so she wouldn't choke him.

“Let me know if you start feeling sick again,” Obi said, turning his head the slightest bit to talk to her as they started back towards home.

“I'll try not to throw up on you,” Shirayuki said earnestly. “But you need to shower anyway, right?”

Obi laughed and shook his head, picking up his pace. Shirayuki settled in a little closer to his back, noticing not for the first time the tightness that was there. He was nicely toned, to be sure, but there was something about his muscles that never seemed to relax. And being up close she felt it even more. Maybe she could offer to give him a back massage or something.

When Obi dropped her off at her apartment, Shirayuki found herself reluctantly sliding off his back and turning to him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry it didn’t really go as planned,” she said. “Thanks again for...taking care of me.”

Obi gave her a half smile, his free hand reaching for his shoulder in that all-too-familiar tug. “I shouldn’t have let you try a hill like that. Take care of yourself today, okay?” He handed off her water bottle. “Keep drinking. Text me if you need something.”

There was a moment of hesitation between them before Shirayuki said softly, “Thanks. You too.”

Obi waved and turned, breaking into a brisk jog in the direction of his apartment. Shirayuki stood there for a long few minutes watching him go, feeling less than satisfied about the start to her morning.

The Next Day

Obi groggily opened his eyes, grabbing at his phone haphazardly to stare at the blaring light.

6:45. Who was knocking on his door that loudly at 6:45 in the morning?

He was barely pulling a shirt over his head when the door pounded again, and a sense of urgency overcame him. Somebody must really need him. Maybe it was one of Zen's people?

Obi rushed to the door and unlocked it, hoping he looked alert enough to take whatever instructions he was given. He ran a quick hand over the back of his hair before opening the door and putting on his best professional face -

Only to find Shirayuki, dressed in her same getup as the morning before - sans the bright shoes, they were replaced with an older pair of tennis shoes - standing tall, that determined look back on her face.

“Miss?” Obi asked, not in the least bit peeved to see her there, but he was surprised.

“I'm ready to try again,” Shirayuki said. “Sorry it's so early.”

Obi stared at her for a long moment. “You…want to go jogging again? Is that a good idea?”

“Please,” Shirayuki begged. “I'm a lot better prepared this time. I want to actually make it through a trail.”

“I don't know…” Obi said, but he smiled. This girl wasn't going to take no for an answer. She was determined to succeed, and something warmed in his chest at the thought that she wanted to do this with him at her side.

“Please,” Shirayuki said again. “I'll buy you food after.”

“How can I say no to that?” Obi said. She smiled at him. “Give me a second to change and we can go. Do you want to…?” he began to ask, gesturing inside, but Shirayuki shook her head.

“I'll just stay out here,” she said, waving her hand. “Hurry! I'm ready to get going!”

Obi laughed and shut the door behind him, retreating to his room to get dressed with purpose this time.

As he pulled his shoes on, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it and unlocked the screen to find a text from Shirayuki:

Question. You're going to wear those shorts, right?

Obi laughed out loud and walked to his closet to change his shorts.

#hi here's another apology fic #because I'm apparently writing everything except what I'm actually supposed to #whoops #Obiyuki #obi x shirayuki #I know nothing about jogging so cast your judgment now #I just know what happens when I try to jog #let's just say I'm shirayuki in this scenario #fluff #fluff fluff fluff #it's always fluff

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