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sabraeal · 3 years

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Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?”

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #The Wide Florida Bay #modern au #ans #this has been a scene I've had on my radar since I started plotting out this fic #i knew that Tanbarun Arc needed to end with a request #but a request to come back to this old college didn't make sense #so i wanted to make it purposeful rather than a promise #an invitation to stay in her life #and I knew she'd cremate her grandparents #but hadn't done anything with the ashes #so i wanted to drop the hints in the sanddollar fic hoping someone would seize on it #but the sand dollar part proved too interesting 😂#though not to worry i'll be coming back to that part too #but when Yixin asked for this Joanna was like ASK HER IF SHE WANTS TO ASHES SCATTERING PART THOUGH #SO HERE WE ARE

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another-miracle · 3 months

Text

1. Amber

the lights said to stop, but they didn’t write brakes into the laws of gravity

To pinpoint the exact moment he fell for her was to pinpoint the exact moment he fell on her.

2. Arctic

Santa, can you hear me?

He wasn’t anything like what she had wished for growing up - abrasive, hot-headed, vulgar; then again, she wasn’t anything like how she’d thought she’d become either.

3. Ash

dust to dust, return from whence you came

Amongst the rubble, wiping sweat off her brow and blood from her lip, she never looked so radiant, and he was so, so lost.

4. Bent

out of shape, out of sight, out of mi- please come home safe

He grabbed hold of her elbow and pulled and screamed (you could have died); and she gave it as good as she got (so could you).

5. Bubble

float, pop, burst

Like poking a bear, it didn’t take long for him to explode; if only she didn’t find it absolutely hilarious.

#kacchako #let's do this one more time #bnha #bakugo katsuki #uraraka ochako #yixin's fic #50 one-word prompts

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another-miracle · 1 year

Text

“Did you think it was only you who chose to stay by the other’s side?”

Obi lies back on the bed, causing the room to spin. His hand goes up to shield his eyes from the low candlelight in hopes to lessen the throbbing in his head.

Definitely had too much to drink, he thinks. He makes an empty promise to himself that this will be the last time he lets Kiki drink him- them, under the table. Kiki, though, bless her heart, whilst hauling a very gone Mister, directs him to the room next to Miss’, citing, “Wouldn’t want a bodyguard too far away from his charge, would we?”

Obi smiles a little at the ceiling. Well, the sentiment is much appreciated, but Obi knows tonight Miss probably won’t be in the room next to his. She’ll be well protected in the arms of Master, very much in the next adjacent room - well, if Master plays his cards right.

Still, Obi can’t help but sit up and stare at the wall connecting their rooms. His legs bring him over to sit on the chair by the wall. Raising his fist, he knocks against the surface.

Knock knock. Knock knock knock.

Leaning against the wall, he closes his eyes, imagining Miss shuffling around and getting ready to respond. To let him know she’s safe, that she isn’t kidnapped- again, that she’s right there. With Master around, the exercise is superfluous, and anticipation, futile. A soft chuckle escapes Obi and he begins to walk back to his bed.

Knock knock. Knock knock knock.

Obi’s eyes fly open and his head whips toward the wall. A part of him wonders if his ears are playing tricks on him. He is, after all, well and truly drunk.

Suddenly, a knock sounds from the door preceding a, “Obi, I’m coming in.”

Master walks in, outer wear and all, and immediately slumps onto Obi’s bed with a wide grin on his face. Obi must look slightly strange with his body half-turned toward the wall because Master sits up with a confused on his face.

“What are you doing there?” Master asks.

“Nothing,” Obi replies. He blinks. “Did you guys just come back?”

Master nods, smile back on his face. “Yeah, Shirayuki wanted to come back to rest. It’s late after all.”

Master then proceeds to share about how Miss wanted to talk a little longer at the teahouse, but Obi stays floored, staring at the wall. His eyes soften. Warmth suffuses in his chest as he turns his body towards Master, dragging himself down the wall and leaning against it on the floor. Master throws him a pillow, which Obi catches, before continuing to gush about how sweet Miss was and many other things Obi already knows about her. Obi nods along and throws in his two cents here and there, but is otherwise preoccupied with a singular thought.

She remembered.

#akagami no shirayukihime #obiyuki #post chap 132 #voice chat and chinese translations gave me thinky thoughts #all i know is that shirayuki wanted to stay talking to zen late into the night #but knew she still needed to return to base and not stay the night #if she *does* end up in zen's room in the end #sure #but she needs to let Obi know she's safe #all in all 132 was a v cute chapter and we were served many handsome zen looks #hehe #yixin's fic

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another-miracle · 3 months

Text

1-5/6-10

11. Drop

is the plunge really worth the pain?

“Now, Cheeks!” Fingers pressed together, she heeded his call like an apple heeded gravity, sending him flying towards their target, a tumult of laughter following him down all the way.

12. Deliver

bring me a postcard scrawled with messy feelings

The first text she ever received from him was a location and a time, reminiscent of a ransom note if sent by literally anyone else, but from him, it was a hand outstretched that said, “I’m here.”

13. Everlasting

dipping your toes into eternity; “oh, that’s cold!”

Being a hero meant a constant foothold on waiting for the other shoe to drop, a grasp on the fleeting, a surrendering of tomorrow; they functioned in the here-and-now.

14. Everest

my personal peak, it’s only downhill from here on

Without a doubt, she could very well move every mountain in her path, yet this monument of a man had stayed steadfast next to her through thick and thin, highs and lows.

15. Elephant

the taboo, the unspoken, the unwritten

The look on his face when she denied their relationship for the umpteenth time was one she could not decipher; hadn’t they agreed to keep it a secret?

#kacchako #bnha #bakugou katsuki #ochako uraraka #yixin's fic #50 one word prompts

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another-miracle · 3 months

Text

6. Block

in all my loneliest paths, you were the perfect obstacle

Her swing was thwarted by his arms positioned in front of his face to receive it, a manic grin slicing across his lips, he shouted, “That all you got, Round Face!?”

7. Comfort

in the mundane, in the madness

He tossed his hoodie over her head, shielding her tears, before placing his hand over her head - a warm, gentle thing.

8. Canopy

take cover under the stars, they fall to the beat of your heart

“I think I would’ve liked to be an astronaut,” she said, fingers rifling through the night air before finding their way between his own.

9. Creek

where the river flows, nobody knows

He was spread thin, she knew, how he overturned every little corner, how he uncovered every shelter, in search for the boy he once called weak, quirkless, useless; there was no grasping him as he slipped through her fingers once more.

10. Dinner

i will set a table for every memory you burn

It was in the dead of night he found her crouched in front of the TV, switching through channels, a half-eaten ramen cup forgotten on the coffee table; pan in hand, briefly, he contemplated a switch in careers.

#kacchako #bnha #bakugou katsuki #yixin’s fic #50 one-word prompts #ochako uraraka

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another-miracle · 2 years

Text

Masking.

#yixin's little life #yixin’s fic

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another-miracle · 3 years

Text

the thing about hands, obiyuki (2/?)

we’re okay

“Well, I’d like to share a handshake with everyone before I leave,” Miss tells them and passes a glance over the lot of them. “...is that okay?”

Obi’s fingers twitch on their own accord. Immediately the skin on the back of his hand stretches over his knuckles, and he is bereft to realize that he has forgotten his gloves today. A last boundary, the emergency security blanket he has relied on his whole life, regrettably missing. Obi resists the urge to push at his shoulder. Instead, he keeps stock still. Kik can sense fear after all- and, yup, there’s the side eye.

While Obi silently stews, he watches with horror as Kiki rehashes the request (“A handshake…”) before stepping up to Miss. The expectant look on Miss’ face is quickly replaced with shock as Kiki winds her arms around her smaller frame. Collectively, there is an abrupt intake of air from all four remaining parties, but Kiki breaks the silence with a gentle, “Have a safe journey, Shirayuki.”

Miss replies in agreement and the two share a smile, but Obi is panicking on the inside. Quickly, he tries to dispel the sudden shift in expectation this social gathering seems to be inevitably hurtling toward by leaning heavily on Mister, and exclaiming, “That’s unexpected, don’t you agree - Mitsuhide-san?”

Alas, Mitsuhide does not bite and instead falls off the deep end by saying words that seal Obi’s doom. Again, Obi is audience to a second person manhandling Miss, though gentle enough for a man as huge as the Big Guy. It’s lovely and all, a big brother bidding farewell to a little sister of sorts. He can do that, Obi can totally do that - totally, in front of Master, who is very much glaring at Mister with the precision of a hawk, and oh god- Miss is walking his way and-

It’s a given at this point that he is frozen in her presence - it wouldn’t be the first time. Obi stares at her, willing himself not to look toward the gathered congregation witnessing his social ineptitude live, front and centre. Miss stretches her neck out, tilts her head up at him, and for the first time, Obi sees her up close. At this distance, he finds himself softening at the privilege of watching her freckles dance upon her nose. She looks up at him, wide-eyed, wide-mouthed, and Obi briefly wonders what it is on his face that inspires such a look. His lips quirk a little, bemused at the adorable expression on Miss’ face, but mostly surrendering inadvertently to the affection gushing in his chest, as he has done so many times before.

In conjunction, they reach toward each other and Obi releases an inward sigh of relief from the threshold crossed, and is accepted into the warm embrace of Miss’ arms snaking around his back. His own hand, ungloved and all, brushes against the cloth of her back. He closes his eyes, allows his fingers to curl into a minute grasp amongst the brief folds of her uniform, feels the glow of Miss’ cheek against his, the tickle of her hair along his neck. She suffuses laughter, her own fingers a strong grip at the top of his back, as she releases a prophecy in his ear. They step back and Obi laughs as well, if, by the sheer truth of it all, that, “if Miss wishes me to,” her words will hold true.

Master comes next and Obi has enough affection flowing out of him to encompass the both of them that he is happy to see them hug - in the most genuine version of the term he can muster. He loves them both, he tells himself.

It doesn’t make the fading vestiges of Miss’ phantom touch burn any less.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #a short one #i've always loved this scene #obi is a socially confused muffin #adorable #yixin's fic

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another-miracle · 2 years

Text

the thing about hands, obiyuki (3/?)

with feeling

Miss treads on Forzeno’s foot and Obi winces. Once upon a time, while practicing for Raj’s ball, he was once victim to that same move. His toes throb in phantom pain.

Miss apologizes profusely, clearly distraught at the prospect of potentially losing a partner. She attempts to salvage it by offering him a trip to the royal pharmacy, to which Forzeno responds by twirling his Miss in a circle. Obi is about to be impressed by the finesse of the man, but the admiration is abruptly thwarted as he finds himself an armful of Miss. Her hand brushes briefly against the skin of his palm, leaving tendrils of warmth in its wake, before escaping his grasp to return to her side. Obi wants to glare at his fingers- how dare they curl towards her, and berates the skip in his chest as Miss faces Forzeno once more.

That step just now was on purpose, the man says, ignorant completely of the absolute melting of Obi’s brain, and more importantly, the gruelling training Miss had to endure in the past to even be considered worthy of the castle’s ballrooms. He goes on to explain that it is a method that got him out of one too many balls, and again, Obi would be impressed if the maneuver hadn’t been directed at his Miss.

Waves of sudden tired exasperation roll off his Miss and Obi can’t help but ride them as well. This man is...a child. Forzeno turns back to them both and awards them with a call that he will contact them, which is just- gosh it’s just great. Finally, some progress after chasing this man-child across the country. Miss turns to him, pleased as punch, and Obi is delighted enough to accept her offer to dance.

He takes her hand and they twirl around like a couple of commoners, which they are, dancing with steps that clearly don’t match the beat. Obi finds it hard to keep the grin off his face as Miss beams widely at him. They’re terrible at every single dance, but Obi can’t bring himself to care as he entwines his fingers with hers, lining the life lines of their palms, hoping to create some sort of infinity in between the crescendos of the trumpets and drums.

It is a far cry from any life he has had any hope of living before. Obi finds he does not mind at all.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #watch me work on this forever and ever #yixin's fic

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another-miracle · 3 years

Text

#12: We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way

She pulls him toward her and he’s completely lost. Immediately, her eyes take on a glint he can’t say he’s unfamiliar to, and then he’s terrified. Her hands slide up his shoulders, over the blacks of his uniform and he shivers. Exhaling, he is bereft to know that her gaze is fixated on his lips. Closer, closer she comes - and closer, closer he bends down. It is an escape, yet there is no exit in sight. He closes his eyes.

Her lips are hesitant over his, brushing softly. Chaste, but oh so sweet. His throat closes up and strangely he wants to cry. It isn’t like anything he has allowed himself before but the fingers fluttering over his cheeks ground him in reality, as crazy as it seems. She shifts, kissing him gently at the corner of his mouth. His grip on her tightens, thumb rubbing circles over her hips. He breathes out, shakily. When her hands go to the back of his neck and pull him even closer, Obi panics, steps back.

“Miss-” Her lips trip over his, the sound short of causing Obi’s knees to buckle. He so desperately wants to surrender to her, to the gentle touches she must know he does not deserve, to the rough pulls of hair as she runs her hand through it, to the addicting taste that he never imagined he’d come to know in this lifetime. Even as his hands oscillate between holding her close and letting her go, she is steadfast in her hold on him, and maybe that’s what brings him over, and he falls, willingly, succumbing - as if he had any other choice.

So much, so much- he wants this to be real. It isn’t, and the ache in his heart battles against the roaring in his mind to just enjoy this, just for this moment, where he can pretend, for one moment, that she is his. He feels her tongue on his lips, and god- it is torture to not show her how much he is completely hers, to give her every inch of adoration she deserves piled on her, over and over. So he does.

His arms tighten around her torso and briefly he lifts her. Swallowing her squeak of surprise, Obi’s hands go up, up and tangle in her hair, fingers stretching over the back of her head, brushes against her ears, positions her mouth to angle with his. He hums when she touches his ear, before her hand retreats into the crevice behind his neck, stroking the skin there. With every kiss, the fire gets stoked higher and higher, and Obi burns and burns. It is only a matter of time he returns to ash, scattered into the wind, but she doesn’t let go, grasps onto him, doesn’t allow him to leave.

Their kisses begin to slow, and Obi slides her down, every inch of her body lining with his. He chases after her when she pulls back, and only leans back when her hand cups his cheek. Melting into her touch, he finds both of their breathing labored, chests rising and falling repeatedly. Through hooded eyes, Obi gazes at her, and to his chagrin, watches as the most ethereal smile blooms on her face. His heart takes another beating, damaged beyond recognition. It is wishful thinking that she feels the same, but-

“Miss, I-” Obi starts, swallows. He leans his forehead against hers, eyes scrunched close at the truths spilling out of his mouth, “I can’t- I’ve- Miss, I’ve loved you too long. I can’t-”

Her hand presses against his lips, and he peeks out at her, hope thrilling endlessly through his chest. A quirk of head and an encore of that heart-crushing smile, she says the words that inform his undoing, breaks him down and brings him back to this single moment that he will cherish forever-

“I love you too,” Shirayuki says through her tears, a small laugh breaking through the dawn. “I love you too, Obi.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #what even is this #*throws it at the fandom*#i just wanted to write sloppy makeouts and soft kiss kiss fall in love #no beta we die like men #yixin's fic #could this have been an obiyukitrope madness entry?#yes - yes it could have been #*casually feeds the fandom while everyone prepares for obiyukimadness*#WE DIE LIKE MEN

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another-miracle · 3 years

Text

#4: We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair

“Well then!” Obi says, arms crossed behind his head as he watches Miss pull Eisetsu to his feet. “I guess we’re all agreed to return to the estate, hm?”

Eisetsu nods solemnly. Beside him, Miss dusts off her cloak before looking at him expectantly. Obi turns to Tsuruba who clears his throat at the attention.

“It seems that returning to our place of lodging may not be the wisest decision,” Tsuruba tells them. “For all we know, the people after Eisetsu may be scouring the area in search of him. And from what you’ve shared, it seems we’ll need to make haste towards the Rugalia Estate.”

He points slightly northward, in the opposite direction from where they came from. “I saw an inn earlier while I was scouting out for your assailants. We could spend the night there.”

The journey to the inn is uneventful, Eisetsu and Obi walking quietly behind the other two. From the corner of his eye, Obi can tell that the tension from the conversation prior has not completely worn off judging by how Eisetsu’s shoulders are raised, how his arms are wrapped defensively around his body. Sighing, he grudgingly claps a hand on Eisetsu’s back. The man looks up at him, startled, and Obi attempts a kind smile - which probably ended up looking like a grimace. Nevertheless, it serves its intended purpose and Eisetsu smiles back, hands dislodging from their place at his elbows. Obi pats his back again for good measure and they continue their journey to their accommodation.

At the inn, Eisetsu and Tsuruba take the lead in speaking to the innkeeper while Obi hangs back with his Miss. She nudges him briefly, eyes sparkling. “This feels like that time when we had to stay at an inn with Zen and the gang.”

“Yeah, only now we’ll need to keep our guards up quite a lot more.” Obi thinks back to how it was unsaid for Mister to take up watch while the rest of them visited the baths. “Miss Kiki and Mister really spoiled us, didn’t they?”

Miss hums in agreement, mouth quirking to the side. She leans a little into him and Obi has to resist the urge to place a hand on her head. She must miss them, he thinks.

“-need lodging for four people,” Eisetsu’s voice rings out. “And towels and robes to spare, if you please.”

The innkeeper frowns slightly. “Ah, we’ve lodging for four - but only two rooms with a bed each. Assuredly they are large enough to hold two though! And towels and whatnot will be provided as paid.”

Their party looks at one another. Eisetsu turns back to the innkeeper.

“That’s fine,” he states. Tsuruba visibly tenses and Obi almost does a double-take. “Wait wait hold up hold up- Eisetsu-dono, let’s review the sleeping arrangements?”

Eisetsu huffs, fringe flying. “What’s the problem? Tsuruba-dono and I can share one room, and the two of you can share the other.”

“Ah,” Tsuruba starts. “Um-”

“Bahh, you saved my life,” Eisetsu states, flicking his ponytail behind him. “There’s no reason for me to remain suspicious of you.”

“And us?” Obi bites out in annoyance.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t have a problem being in the same room at the estate? If I recall, the rooms only had one bed - and assuredly, they were not meant to fit two.”

Obi feels Tsuruba’s gaze settle heavily on him and cold sweat begins to form at his brow. Ah, he thinks. He knows about the understanding between Master and Miss.

Just as Obi begins to sputter out the truth, Miss interrupts. “Y-yes! We did that! It’s fine - Obi, shall we? It’s been a long night, and-” Miss yawns, an obvious feint- “wow, I’m absolutely smashed!”

She waves them goodnight and walks off. Obi stares after her, mouth ajar. He turns back to the two, then back to his Miss’ retreating back. Caught between the need to explain everything, and following her up, he manages a, “I-need to protect- Miss!” before stumbling off after her. Obi briefly catches Tsuruba’s gaze sliding off them and Eisetsu waving his hand to shoo him off. Obi’s face feels terribly hot.

He quickly catches up with Miss and glares down at her, hoping that his eyes will communicate his absolute incredulity at the situation. What is she thinking?! Doesn’t she know the implications of what she’d suggested?

Of course, Miss remains blissfully unawares, happily stopping outside their room, unlocking the door and wandering inside. Obi takes one look into the corridor before closing the door behind them.

Turning back, Obi sees Miss taking off her robe and placing it on the back of a nearby chair. Her hair falls out of the hood to frame her face, the ends curling slightly at her chin. Obi rubs an exasperated hand down his face. God, may he survive the night here.

Throwing his hands in the air, Obi exclaims, “Miss, we’ve no need to keep up with the ruse! At this point, I’m sure we can trust Eisetsu enough with the true nature of our relationship! He probably wasn’t serious with his advances on you anyway, judging by his story.”

Miss tilts her head, a thoughtful pout on her face. “Is there a need to tell him though? I feel like it may only cause more misunderstandings.”

“More- Miss, Eisetsu thinks we’re together! You’re promised to the Second Prince of the country! How is that not already a misunderstanding!”

“Well,” Miss begins to fold her cloak. “We did stay in the same room at his estate. If anything, that whole series of events was a consequence of being promised to said-prince. And the continuation of the ruse was to also hide the fact that Zen showed up at the estate - which, Eisetsu still has no knowledge about.”

Miss turns to him then, arms crossed, and Obi does not like that look. “Are we to tell Eisetsu that the Second to the Crown was traipsing around his estate with him unawares? He’s already told us how sensitive he is about his reputation. Think about what telling him would do to the poor man.”

“But-” Obi starts. Miss raises an eyebrow.

Obi wants to scream.

“Fine,” Obi concedes. “But if we’re meant to share the bed, I’m taking the left side.”

Miss smiles, triumphant.

---

“Obi?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are you awake?”

A sigh- “I am now. What is it?”

Obi turns and finds Miss much closer than he anticipated. Alarmed, he shifts to the edge of his side of the bed and props his head on his hand, elbow pressing into the pillow. Miss seems to ignore his ministrations and looks deep in thought. Obi waits.

“Obi,” she calls softly. “What did you think of Eisetsu’s story about Lady Kageya?”

Humming, Obi leans back and moves his arm behind his head. He stares at the ceiling. What did he think?

“It’s...rather tragic, isn’t it?” Obi speaks slowly. He doesn’t say that their tale sounds eerily familiar. Doesn’t say that it rubs him the wrong way. Doesn’t say that it sounds an awful lot like what may happen- has happened- to his mistress and master. “Seems like Eisetsu really took a hit. Both in his relationship with Kageya and with his father.”

Obi lowers his gaze and watches as Miss’ fist clenches into the bedsheets, her face ducking behind the blankets. Staring at the crown of her head, red cascading over white, he laments at how in another life, Master and Miss may have it easier - an existence together - without all this talk of reputation, of titles, of rumors. It is a simple life he wishes for them; and it is a simple life they cannot have.

Obi offers what he can. “Miss, don’t worry,” he tells her with a soft smile. Lightly, he touches her fingers clasped tightly around white. She looks up at him, eyes teary. Obi’s heart breaks.

“Master will not forsake you like that.” His finger comes up to wipe away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “You are worth- so much more than reputation. Lest he send you away with coin, perish the thought.”

Obi hears Miss breathe in shakily. A part of Obi breaks for the two; years of memories apart, and miles and miles exist between them. Yet- yet. Another part of Obi seethes. He is incensed at the insecurity spurred and left to fester in his Miss by the reality of it all, and by the lack of assurance Master gives her. It’s one thing to allow the other space to work towards their goals. It’s another to entirely ignore the other, only corresponding through a middleman (he’s seen too many letters signed off by Mister), and turning up only to jeopardize said-goal.

Miss buries her face deeper into the pillow, shoulder shaking. Exhaling heavily, Obi slots his arm under her and cradles her to him. Wet droplets immediately hit Obi’s skin at his neck and Obi tightens his hold on her.

“Shh...it’s okay. You’ll be fine.” Miss’ arms wind around his torso and she grips him hard. Obi’s hand comes up to stroke the back of her head. “Both of you will be, for sure.”

----

Dawn breaks. Obi’s eyelids are crusty and his eyes are just refusing to open. Not when it is so warm and lovely, and Obi just wants to ignore the light pouring into the room. Turning away from the window, he throws his arm over Miss, wrapping his body around hers. She whines a little, and Obi chuckles slightly behind closed lids, bending down to brush his lips against her fringe.

A few seconds pass. Immediately, Ob’s brain wakes up and he shoots himself to the edge of the bed, short of falling off. Eyes wide, he stares, affronted, at his two hands positioned awkwardly in front of him, away from what isn’t his.

Miss shifts and Obi freezes. Her eyebrows scrunch up at the sun rays and she buries her head deeper into the sheets.

“Too bright,” she whines. Obi’s arms fall back onto the bed and he laughs. He pulls slightly at the blanket to reveal Miss pouting cutely, hair mussed in different directions. Suddenly, Obi’s chest feels too tight.

“Good morning, Miss,” Obi says, too soft.

Miss whines again and cracks open one eye to stare him unamused. Obi huffs out a laugh. She exhales roughly and props herself up with two hands on the pillow. Obi looks up at her as she rubs a fist over her eye, hand then stretching back behind her with a yawn. Her entire body slumps and she looks down at him again. With bleary eyes, she smiles down at him, dimples and all.

“Good morning, Obi,” Miss greets him, just as soft.

Obi’s legs immediately hit the floor. He turns away so fast he almost has whiplash. Something like this - this soft, vulnerable thing - isn’t meant for his eyes, isn’t meant for people like him.

With his back to her, Obi states mechanically, “We should start getting ready. If it’s already this bright, Eisetsu and Tsuruba would be waiti-”

A touch at his hand and Obi pauses. Warily, he turns to Miss and is anguish to note that Miss looks as wonderful and angelic as she did moments ago. She tugs slightly at his wrist and Obi just follows, facing her fully. Her fingers play with his, intertwining and brushing against his palm, and Obi is just- burning. Soaking up all the warmth she offers, but just- incinerating on the inside.

“Thank you,” she tells him, squeezing gently. “For being here. With me.”

Obi’s heart lurches. His face has never felt so hot. Play it off, his mind screams. Play it off, play it off, play it off! And desperate, Obi completely bypasses the voice in his head and brings her fingers to his lips. He looks up at his Miss’ face, as red as her hair, and sees her lips forming into a pleased smile. Inch by inch, Obi reels back his heart, offered on a platter for the taking, and swallows down his unadulterated adoration for the woman in front of him. He sets her hand down, smiles, and finally pays heed to the shouting in his mind.

“For you and Master,” he says. For you, he doesn’t say. “Anytime.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #yixin's fic #and there was only oNE BED #it's about time to be honest

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another-miracle · 3 years

Text

#11: You’ve said you’re going to leave, but I don’t want you to go and if I don’t say something now…

It punches Obi in the gut. Backhands him again and again. Somehow, nothing cures it. No knives driven into flesh, no slashes to the face, no swerving of sword against dagger to plunge into chest. This is what he has been taught; this is what he has been living for. He can argue that he doesn’t know better, that he’s never learnt otherwise.

Because how do you explain the innate thrill of a kill, a job well done? It is food in his belly at the end of the day, a dry, clean floor to lay his head. So ingrained into his system - he doesn’t know anything else.

He is sent to protect her.

He defeats his Master, proves his worth - says, I’m good enough to try something new. Send me. Trust me. He falls into step with his Mistress, holds out his hand to cradle hers. Gentle, unlike anything he has done. Out of his element, his first steps at redemption. She smiles, and Obi almost believes he can do it.

It is laughable, that faith, when he remembers how ept he is at failure.

Barely a step more to go, almost there - a job well done, and one of his proudest moments - is dashed away by a world not unfamiliar. Of kidnappers and strikes to the neck. Of blades attached to chains. Of poison. Obi knows this world, breathes it even. He didn’t think to be reacquainted with it.

Master finds him and Obi awaits the punishment that must come. He has botched a job, ruined plans, and worst of all, broken trust with the first employer he actually respects. A hand-chop to his head barely accounts for all these, and while Master laughs in gleeful, childish vengeance, Obi claws his insides out. Waiting, telling himself false secrets, as if redemption is still there for the taking when it is not. He rides it out, focuses his attention to fixing his mistakes. Retraces his steps, and finally, finally, sees her again.

She is frozen in time, clad in the dress he saw her last. She fights dirty, biting the hand that restrains her without caring for the weapon in it. Umihebi shoves her aside and Obi sees red. He stands between Miss and the pirate, a feeble show of what he boasted to Master he could do. What he was supposed to do.

“Obi!” Miss shouts. Obi almost turns.

There is no redemption. Nor should there be.

----

He hears her before he sees her.

Jumping down, he stops her mid-step. Obi chuckles bitterly. Just like that - they’re out of sync. Still. He must offer what he needs to. Even if he isn’t needed anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Obi tells her. “My job was to protect you. And look what I let happen.”

It is a statement, an observation. An obvious fact. It is not a request for forgiveness. He threw that notion away the minute they took her.

“W-Wait, th-that’s not what I thi--”

His hand clasps over her lips. Something in him hisses at what she is offering. “Even if you say it, I won’t listen.”

She stares at him, her gaze heavy. Obi does not dare to look. His hand falls and Obi prepares to go, to be sent away. For Miss, he’s sure, it is easy - he put her in danger after all.

Miss’ voice is soft. “Does that mean it doesn’t matter what I think?”

“I guess it does.”

“All right.”

At the two words, Obi goes rigid. He recognizes that very cadence.

“But-”

Run.

“-the next time I come to Tanbarun, please be my guard again.”

A part of him wants to crawl away, petulant and clingy, and Obi hates how his body feels lighter, his sin more permissible. He is unaccustomed to salvation, rejects it like a blind man seeing the sun. But he knows, it is no longer something he can escape, something he can argue his way out of. Everything that has built him up to what he is, breaks down immediately and is put back together.

She continues. “You said we could go to the town next time, right?”

Her smile dawns on his failure, shadows and all. Even in the failing sunset, she shines bright as day. Obi cannot, for the life of himself, recall a smile so sweet, so endearing. It is only natural, that when directed to him, he is hopeless. Warring against it is an effort in vain.

He forgets himself. “Shira-”

Some semblance of sanity stops him from uttering what he does not deserve. But Miss turns the tables on his head once more by bowing, as if it is an act any lower than the privilege to call her by name.

“I’ll be counting on you,” she says. And Obi will never get used to this. How she offers words like the salves in her satchel, healing wounds meant to be left to fester. Obi is not used to not having scars.

She waits. A beat. Face still directed to the ground. Obi realizes that she’s waiting for him. He wants to scrub a hand over his face at how absolutely ridiculous this is.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Miss,” he replies, sealing his fate.

Her answering smile brands him for eternity, and Obi’s world shifts a few degrees to the left. It congrues his path with hers, meandering around his failure and realigns his footsteps alongside hers.

Terrified, Obi takes a step, then another.

Miss walks beside him. It is enough.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #this is the third time I am writing a version of this scene #somebody stop me #I love them so much #yixin's fic

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another-miracle · 4 years

Note

obiyuki #3 >:3

#3: I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?

“Miss, you’re going to have bags under your eyes if you stay up late again!”

Shirayuki looks up from her notes to see Obi entering the pharmacy with a cup in hand. Clouds of steam waft over his fingers as he places the cup in front of her. She smiles.

“Thanks, Obi,” she tells him, cradling the cup in her hands. Looking down, she notices the small bloom of a tea flower opening in the centre of the drink. Taking a sip, she releases a puff of white cloud as she exhales. Tilting her head towards Obi, she finds him grinning, chin in hand.

And for that moment, he’s- just there. He’s here, Shirayuki thinks, a staccato in her chest, the pinpricks of tears at the corners of her eyes. In the face of a world unknown spread across the wood in front of her, she finds herself navigating a pinpoint and emerging to a cheeky smile and a scar over brow. Shirayuki has seen many things; arguably more than most, but it never ceases to astound how she finds her way back here. To companionship unfailing, and trust, unwavering.

It is in this moment, Shirayuki stumbles, falls, then catches herself, but only just by the slight of hand and by words tumbling out of her mouth.

“I really like you, Obi,” she says, a hook thrown into an ocean wide and vast. Horizons dance behind her eyelids, shifting synchronous with the flickering of the dim candlelight. She waits, a beat, then opens her eyes.

Obi has galaxies upon galaxies reflected in his pupils, his mouth popped wide. A twitch of brow. Immediately, Shirayuki reels in the fishing line, retraces her steps, rubbing away at an overused chalkboard. The words like cotton in her mouth, their bracts shrivelling up and scratching at her throat, “Never mind, forget it.”

A hand slams loudly on the table, and Shirayuki startles. Obi’s fingers clench against the dry wood, scarcely crumpling the papers in front of her. She watches him blink, once- twice, swallow. “Um-”

She retreats further - forget the ocean, the shore seems awfully welcoming right now, “-as a friend! You’re a really good friend, Obi!”

The fingers in her line of sight relax a margin, and Shirayuki settles. It’s- fine. There’s no obligation. It was just a simple expression of what she wanted, is all. She breathes out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted, friendship unharmed.

“Ha-” Obi coughs out, leaning back. His voice grates against the wood, his nails seem to scrape against his throat. “Yes, of course, Miss.”

This time, Obi pulls back, a current retreating from its shore, and bends over her notes next to her. His arms cradle his head, and Shirayuki barely restrains herself from placing a hand in his hair. His left hand sinks into the meat of his shoulder, massaging. She wonders if Makiri’s been pushing him too hard.

She is about to return to her notes when she feels his gaze on her. Glancing at him, she laughs at the picture he portrays. The innocent furrow of brow, the gleam in his eyes, a small just-there pout at his lips. She must have given him an unnecessary shock. An apology almost bubbles over, but Obi blows it out with a sigh and a crooked grin.

“I really like you too, Miss,” he says, unawares of the holes she sees in his armor from the hooks of many before her. It is terrifying, how he offers the words, and she is unsure in a million ways. Whether those words are leakages of a heart wanting so desperately to be cared for, or a fortified tool to protect, deflect. And Obi’s good, great even, at that. He is after all, her Obi.

So she smiles, a silent apology. He does too, a fickle, broken thing. And they return to taking on the world together, unwavering trust and all.

#obiyuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #at some point i forgot i was answering your ask and i just went wild #oops #HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH #watch me go through the entire prompt list #mwaha #yixin's fic

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another-miracle · 4 years

Text

#1: I have you shoved against the wall but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth

They’ve been waiting for more than an hour now. No sign of the Olin Maris. It has been ten minutes past the timing Obi was meant to give the second signal.

“Something’s not right,” Shirayuki tells Tsuruba. She stands up, grabbing her satchel and covering her face with her cloak. “I’m going in.”

Tsuruba’s hand lands lightly on her shoulder. “No, Miss Shirayuki. I cannot in good conscience allow you to go in.”

Shirayuki turns and smiles, hopefully providing him some reassurance, but this isn’t her first rodeo. “That’s my knight in there,” she says. “ If I don’t have him, someone else might.”

Tsuruba sighs and lets his hand fall. “Alright. At least let me help you in. And please be careful. We don’t know who we should trust here.” Shirayuki nods.

They approach the balcony, and Tsuruba interlocks his hands in front of him. Shirayuki steps up and grabs onto the balustrade. She pushes herself over, before glancing down at Tsuruba. He gives her a look of acknowledgement, and Shirayuki enters through the large door windows.

Hiding in the curtains, she slowly makes her way through the room. The people in the room, she notices, are awfully still- which, isn’t so strange from what she knows of high society, but she’d expect at least some commotion of sorts. She releases a puff of confusion, and on an inhale, is belatedly hit by a strong familiar fragrance. Alarmed, Shirayuki quickly wraps the cloth tighter around her mouth and nose.

I have to find Obi fast, she thinks and makes haste to the next room over.

After sieving through the next two rooms, Shirayuki finally spots Obi’s unmistakeable black uniform. She almost calls out, but remembers she’s meant to be undercover and instead attempts to make her way over to him. As she approaches Obi, she notices something off his gait. It is heavy, sluggish - nothing like the lightness that typically colours his footsteps. She’s sure if he snuck behind her now, she will definitely catch him in the act.

Nearing him, she reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him towards a darker corner of the room away from prying eyes. However, her plan is instantly thwarted by the sudden tightening of muscles under her fingers and the growl leaving Obi’s throat. Shirayuki finds herself slammed against the wall behind the curtain, Obi’s forearm pressed painfully against her collarbone. Through his mask, Shirayuki sees his eyes are wild and glazed over and she panics.

“O-Obi!” Shirayuki gasps, clawing at his arm. God, she forgot how strong he was. “I-it’s me! Shirayuki!”

Obi frowns, familiarity briefly passing through his eyes. Then, he relaxes, letting Shirayuki fall. She doubles over, coughing, but instead of being given ample space to conclude her spiel of sputtering away from Obi’s face, Shirayuki finds herself still very much pushed up against the wall. This time, Obi’s arms stay tightly at her sides, palms placed surreptitiously against the wall behind her.

“Obi?” Shirayuki asks, tilting her head up and looking at him through teary eyes. His face is suddenly very close and Shirayuki once again makes out the wild and glazed tinge in his eyes, only this time, it’s directed at her mouth. He takes a step toward her, lining his body with hers and bends down. A whisper away from her lips, Obi’s breath is labored, warm air passing over her mouth. Shirayuki’s eyes flutter close, and her hand goes up to grip at his sleeve.

A heavy exhale, and he pulls her even closer.

He whispers, “Shirayuki.”

Like lightning struck, Shirayuki snaps out of her stupor and reaches into her cloak. Throwing the pepper in Obi’s face, she watches as Obi backs off immediately and starts his own round of coughing and wheezing, doubling over much like how she had previously. A part of Shirayuki gloats in revenge well-served, while the other...is still imagining what Obi’s lips may feel like on hers.

“M-Miss?” Obi rasps, alternating haphazardly between coughing and sneezing.

“Are you awake now?”

Obi attempts to look up at her, but holds up one finger before flinging his entire upper torso into one last sneeze. He rubs at his face, and shakes off the last bits of pepper from his uniform. Dusting himself off, he blinks repeatedly, and answers, “Yes, I think so. Wait- what happened?”

Shirayuki gives him a slight smile. “You were under the influence of the fragrance. You’re lucky I prepared some spare pepper just in case.”

“Pepper..?” Obi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Why would you- oh.”

Shirayuki gives him a pointed look. To her satisfaction, Obi pales. “I-Did I do anything?”

“N-No!” Shirayuki can feel her face grow hot. Then softer, “nothing. You didn’t do anything.”

Obi gives her a concerned look. “Okay... If you say so…” He freezes. “Wait! What are you doing here, Miss? How long has it been since the last signal?”

Shirayuki nods solemnly. “I came in because the signal was late. And my gut was right.”

She stares at him, then reaches for his hands. Shirayuki cradles them in hers, watching as Obi’s fingers twitch briefly before relaxing. She brings them up to her forehead, pressing them gently and breathes. She could have lost her knight tonight.

Looking up at him, she says, “You always do what you promise. And I will always trust that you do.”

Obi stares at her, his fingers slowly curling over hers. The light in his eyes shifts to one reminiscent of when he had returned from the Bergatt mission with Zen and the others, and Shirayuki almost braces herself to be carried once again.

Instead, Obi squeezes her hand once, then slips out of her grip. He coughs, then rubs at his shoulder. A smile dances on his lips.

“I trust you too, Miss!” Obi tells her, smile widening.

Shirayuki relaxes, hands returning to her sides. She looks around at the faces of the guests, listless and lifeless. “I think it’s time we go find Tsuruba. Where’s Eisetsu?”

“I...I’m not sure,” Obi replies, hand going to the back of his head. His voice grows sheepish. “I vaguely recall him leaving and saying he wanted to talk to someone… But. Yeah. Um… I’m sorry…”

“Mm, I figured,” Shirayuki begins to walk past the guests, glancing back to make sure Obi follows suit. “No matter, let’s go find Tsuruba for now and regroup.”

“We’ll figure what to do with Eisetsu later.”

#obiyuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #AnS #a canon compliant fic?#it's more likely that you think!#also we were discussing kabe-dons on discord #and i was side-eyeing the entire chat #because this was in the works #gosh #yixin's fic

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another-miracle · 4 years

Note

I would love to see you take on #2 for obiyuki.

We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other

She’s just- standing there.

Obi stares at her from the rim of his pseudo-champagne glass - filled with sparkling cider, mind you- he’s trying to be good for once - across the hall. And he gets it, you know? Zen’s busy with the planning for prom so there’ll be pockets of time when he’ll leave his date alone, but- there’s a line that has to be drawn at some point, right?

Obi sips at his drink a little more, watching quietly as Shirayuki sighs and begins walking off in search of a place to sit. She eventually settles for a chair at the table in the far-most corner of the room. Absently, Obi notices that she is undeniably pretty tonight, with her pale green dress flowing down her silhouette and hair done up looking like a faerie. But the despondent look on her face spurs a worry that overshadows whatever appreciation Obi has for her outfit tonight. He wonders if going up to her would be permissible. They’re friends- and friends talk to each other during proms, right? He doesn’t have a date, and her date’s off being busy, so it wouldn’t look strange...right?

Suddenly, her eyes flash up to his and Obi is struck dumb by the flush that immediately spreads across her cheeks. She smiles a little, hand tucking her hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicker away once, then back. Her hand slowly comes up to wave, and Obi’s feet automatically take a step towards her.

A hand claps heavily down on his shoulder.

“Obi! There you are!” Zen shouts over the music. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Obi stares. Glancing back at Shirayuki, he sees that her hand is frozen mid-wave, before she tucks it back in the pocket of her dress. The blush hasn’t faded from her face, and Obi runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment. Not you, his mind scolds.

“Ah, Mr. Prom King!” Obi smiles tightly. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

Zen’s hand clenches on his shoulder and he leans in. “See, Obi. I’ve been swarmed the whole night by the committee, and I doubt that’s going to end anytime soon. So if you could do me a huge favour - could you please accompany Shirayuki for me? I know you wanted to come alone, but I feel really bad for leaving her by herself. So-”

Obi finds his hand landing heavily on Zen’s shoulder. Zen looks up, an alarmed expression crossing his features. Obi squeezes, shakes him a little, before forcing out a smile.

“Consider it done,” Obi says through clenched teeth. Zen’s face melts in relief. “Have you told her?”

“Um,” Zen tries, a hand going to the back of his head. “I.. was kind of hoping you’ll let her know? I’ll need to go soon- ah yup-” he waves to someone across the dance floor, “-that’s my cue. Thanks so much, Obi! I owe you one!”

Zen runs off, and Obi is left to seethe. Turning back to Shirayuki, he sees her - chin resting on her hand, looking quietly out at their peers having a jolly good time - and he’s furious. Of all people who don’t deserve to be alone today, it’s her. She’s been so understanding all this while, and he knows, because he’s been there for every circumvented date, every interrupted lunch, every “Sorry I need to take this” phonecall. And. She’s been taking it like a champ. It’s almost sad to watch… Surely going through all that will warrant just one night of enjoyment?

Obi walks toward Shirayuki, teeth clenched so hard that his head is beginning to ache. He plops unceremoniously on the chair next to her and Shirayuki turns to him with widened eyes.

“Obi!” Shirayuki gasps, hand on her chest. “You scared me! Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Let me tell you a secret,” he says, bending forward. He crooks a finger to beckon her closer and she leans forward, her ear near his lips. “I’ve been assigned to be your knight for the night. To protect you from suitors who know none-the-better, and to make sure you and your pretty dress come out unscathed.”

Obi leans back with a huge grin on his face, watching as Shirayuki’s expression goes from shocked curiosity to an absolute upheaval of incredulity. She slaps his shoulder, a brilliant smile blooming her face.

“What are you talking about oh my god-” she snorts, Obi notes with glee, “-only you, Mr. ‘I have many aliases and secrets’!”

Obi chuckles along.

Shirayuki crooks her head toward him, head falling back to reveal the long column of her neck. She closes her eyes and Obi can’t help but notice the way her eyelashes cast slight shadows on her cheeks.

“Ahh, I really needed that,” she say, her smile taking on a warm undertone. She glances at him once more, moving into his space. “Thanks Obi.”

Obi’s brain promptly short-circuits, because the next words out of his mouth are, “Would you like to dance?”

And shit fuck that’s what a date would say and that’s not okay. He backpedals, “I mean- it’s okay if you don’t want to, I just figured since we are at prom and there’s a dance floor right there so.. Yea haha…”

Shirayuki takes his hand. Obi’s eyes widen. “I would love to, Obi.”

She pulls him up and drags him to the middle of the dance floor, and Obi’s heart just follows after. An upbeat song is playing and everyone around them is jumping and shouting. It’s a comfortable atmosphere, one Obi doesn’t mind letting loose a little. As he begins bouncing to the beat, Obi notices Shirayuki moving her arms in weird up and down movements.

“...what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Shirayuki pants as she flaps both her arms up and down repeatedly. “I’m dancing!”

“...that’s definitely not dancing.”

Shirayuki sputters in offence, before pumping her elbows in different directions. “What would you know! Bad dancing is still dancing. I refuse to be apologetic about it!”

Laugher seeps through Obi’s entire body and he feels warm. He ‘dances’ with her - their arms linking at the strangest of timings in the song, hi-fiving each other like a couple of grade schoolers, ankles hooking each other as they hop on one leg around the other. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Obi wants to stay here for the rest of his life.

The song ends and Obi and Shirayuki are both panting heavily, hands on their knees. They’re still guffawing at the other, sarcastic compliments to each other’s dancing coming out in pants.

“Ready for another round?”

“Scared you’ll be out-danced?”

“Oh, you’re on.”

The music that comes on next is not what either of them expects. A soft flowing melody resounds through the hall and couples around them begin to wrap their arms around each other. Obi stares at Shirayuki, who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

He softens, hands going in his pockets as he looks toward the punch table. “Hey, let’s go get a drink? You must be thirsty after all that dancing.”

As he is beginning to turn away, a soft hand slips into his palm and grips at his fingers, pulling out of his pocket. Obi spins around and stares. Shirayuki is looking down, a blush very apparent on her face. She glances up at him and away again, hand tucking her hair behind her ear. The movement is so familiar. Obi thinks back to that very same movement not twenty minutes ago.

“Um,” Shirayuki starts. “I-if you don’t mind, I’d like to dance to this song. If you don’t mind, of course!”

Obi nods absently. Shirayuki steps closer, her breath igniting every nerve ending at the skin of his neck. Gingerly she slips her hands over his shoulders, and looks up at him. Obi stares down at her.

“Um, I think your hands need to be on my waist, Obi.”

“Ah,” Obi blinks out of his reverie. “Yes.”

His hands go to her waist, placing them there gently, and this feels all sorts of illegal. Part of him wants to look around, to see if anyone has realized that the girl in his arms is surely not his, her standards can’t be that low. The other part of him is completely enraptured by the curious look in her eyes, the pursing of her lips, the blush high on her cheeks.

Slowly, they begin to move side to side with the music, swaying back and forth. Suddenly, Shirayuki ducks her head and chuckles. “This does feel a little unnatural, doesn’t it?”

Okay, Obi’s heart is well on the floor. It’ll be great if someone comes and sweeps it up.

“It’s pretty uncomfortable, isn’t it? To slow-dance with someone you don’t have feelings for.”

Ah yes, now it’s bleeding all over the hardwood flooring. A mop might be a better idea.

“I-I-I mean,” Shirayuki stutters. “It’s not like you wanted to be here with me in the first place - there’s probably someone else you’d much prefer, isn’t there? I’m probably a pretty poor alternative…”

Obi stops. Shirayuki startles out of her rambling and stares back up at him. He frowns.

“Obi? What’s wrong?”

“...what makes you think that?” his hands fall from her waist. Similarly, Shirayuki’s arms fall back to her side.

“W-well,” Shirayuki says, twisting at the fabric of her dress. “You didn’t ask me. To prom. Um. I’d thought there might have been someone else, but you’re alone tonight. So I-I a-assumed that the person you wanted to ask probably had a date already? But you’re stuck with me so-”

“What about Zen? Aren’t you guys, together?”

“Oh Zen? I mean, we’re close! But not as close as we are? I thought you weren’t going to ask me so I agreed to come to prom with him - well, to wait for him to attend prom with me, I suppose - since he’s so busy.”

Obi’s mind is reeling. “W-wait, so you guys aren’t dating?”

Shirayuki’s mouth pops open. “Oh, no - no we aren’t! Oh my goodness, is that what Zen thinks? I’ll need to clear that up immediately gosh.”

Screw Obi’s heart on the floor. His brain has melted into the cement. And corroded away. Because- what?

Shirayuki goes for Obi’s hand again. His eyes jump to hers.

“...Is that what you thought? ...Would it be okay, to um, assume that that’s the reason you didn’t ask me to prom..?”

Obi closes his eyes. Looks like the secret is out.

“You’re really too smart.”

Shirayuki looks up at him hopefully.

“Yes,” Obi says. “I wanted to ask you. Because, I like you, and- um you’re cool, I guess. And fuck, I didn’t expect this so I don’t really have anything prepared. And I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

“No no, I like it. Um, and I like you. Too. I guess. Um.”

Obi pulls her close, brushes her hair behind her ear. Shirayuki flushes prettily, and Obi’s chest throbs. “Let’s get back to dancing? The song’s almost over. Then, we could continue this conversation outside, if you like?”

Shirayuki’s hands go up to his shoulders again. She squeezes gently, and Obi feels like he’s flying.

“I’d like that.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #modern AU #um #i have no idea how proms work but #here you go!!#yixin's fic

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