#Obiyuki Bingo

[sabraeal]

At Your Command, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

They’ve got two guards at the gate— well, two that he can see, though he doesn’t doubt there’s a dozen more posted around this entrance, up on parapets and spying through towers, yucking it up each time some courtier acts out the inciting event in one of those puppet shows in the market. There’s a younger one— fair as any prince, at least by the etchings in the paper— his hat just scarcely too large to sit above his ears. An idiot, by the looks of things. An easy dupe.

The other one, though—

“Revoked?” The older guard sits back in his hips, eyeing the Marquis’s order— and his scar— with a hefty amount of skepticism. “Out of nowhere.”

Out of all the expressions he bends his face into, patronizing smile isn’t part of his regular vocabulary. It’s a real tussle between the muscles and teeth to keep it there instead of gritting down to a grimace. Gate guards aren’t meant to question noble couriers, especially not ones that come around flashing royal seals and dropping titles with more history than the palace itself, but here he is, standing in front of the only soldier with more than two thoughts to clack together to make a spark. Any minute now, this guy’s going to bark out an “Explain!” and he’ll have to dance the dangerous edge between obeying the letter of the law and defying its intent.

Or at least he would, if he wasn’t wearing this nice little uniform.

“Enough.” His teeth snap around the word with every ounce of authority the Marquis’s crest lends him. It’s not much this many rungs down the ladder, but it’s more than these chuckleheads have. “No objections.”

Oh, he makes a good show of barking and gnashing, but he might well be one of those little pillow dogs the ladies keep for all the good it does him. Now even the dupe’s got a wary look in his eyes, jaw setting the way it does before people start asking him things like, can I see your credentials, and what did you say your name is again.

Ha, he’d heard the Elder Highness ran a tight ship, but this is something else. Daddy might have let his lords throw their weight around, bullying the poor boys on door duty as if it were one of those divine rights passed down to them on high, but it seems at least this apple got flung far from the tree. Part of him’s impressed, he’s got to admit, but the other part—

The other part’s got a job to do. And, if this goes on any longer, a real nasty itch to scratch.

“Please try to understand”— he’s a study in softness now, pressing a hand to his heart, shoulders taking the same pleading tilt as his brow— “how this decision must have pained His Highness.”

The dupe’s all eyes now, wide and trembling, real taken with the idea of some princeling’s struggle with his tender emotions. But the older guard shifts his weight, arms crossed, and frowns. It’ll take more than a few tears and tugged heartstrings to get this guy to swallow a story.

Good thing he doesn’t have to. All he’s got to do is lean close, squinting down at the elegant sweep of the Marquis’s signature across the page, and he sees it too: it’s legal. However the hero here feels about this particular little prescript, putting it to question is well above his paygrade. At least so long as it’s the old king’s cousin who’s got his name slapped on it as co-signer.

“Well.” The scroll snaps shut in his hand, and he flashes the hero the sort of grin found on a knife’s edge. “That will be all.”

It’s new to him, walking away like this— lofty chin and step so springy he might looking into a high horse when all is said and done. A guy could get used to this sort of thing, no to mention the weight of his purse and the promise of enough food to fill him. All he’s got to do now is get back to His Grace and—

“Wait!” the older one shouts, giving him one hobbled step before he adds, “Get back here!”

It’s the sort of shout that could be for anyone— hell, he’s half convinced it’s not even him, up until his heels start sticking to the pavement, not so much holding him in place as making it a real hassle to saunter off with any style. Give the guy a few years and maybe he’d get enough gravitas to haul him up short, but as it is, he’s an annoyance rather than a threat. The kind that’s got him gritting his teeth to keep that servile smile on his face. “Excuse me. Is there—?”

“We’ve got to tell the prince.” It’s the younger one who says it— whispers it, really, the way mummers do on stage, loud enough to be heard all the way in the eaves— eyes anxiously aimed at his superior.

It’s a miracle he manages to grit out, “Tell the prince what?”

“It’s Lady Shirayuki,” the older one replies, not possessed with the same sense of urgency as his partner. In fact, he’s downright leisurely when he adds, “She forgot a book in the prince’s office and came back to get it.”

“It was just before you came, sir!” The idiot’s practically biting his nails down to the quick just thinking of it. “She’s already gone through!”

*

This job was supposed to go off without a hitch.

There’s no wiggle room for mistakes in this business; not when the difference between a good grift and a shallow grave is balanced on a blade’s edge. All it takes is a glance too unsavory or a word misspoke to see a man clapped in irons, dragged off to dungeons so deep even his own mother would forget his name. If he had one, that is. Men like him usually don’t.

Oh, not every job’s determined at knife point, draw blood or be bled, but the point still stands: there’s no such thing as a do-over when the coin you’ll pay with is your life. No amount of almosts will fill an empty belly, or a keep a body warm at night on the Port City’s streets. In a world where everyone’s fighting for scraps, it’s the ones who walk away that win. And he—

Well, he’s built a career out of being the one that does. Too bad this prince-chaser chick hasn’t gotten the message.

She’s probably skipped her way off to His Highness already, none the wiser. Makes the timing of this whole order a little sticky, but it’s nothing he can’t straighten out once she’s out of the pretty prince’s eyesight. Nothing like a royal decree and a frog march with a few guardsmen to really sell the story, after all.

But when he whips around, searching the scene through the gate, and— there, a flash of red flitting through the arcade. Ha, so the idiot hadn’t lied when about her coming through just before he got here. And just his luck, she’d stuck around long enough to hear her golden ticket get revoked.

His hand clenches on his shoulder, barely dulling the ache. Well, isn’t this nice? In the time it’d take him to convince the guards to get up off their duffs, the little gold digger’s going to have gotten her teeth sunk into the prince.

He’s never been much for plans. Contingencies, sure— nothing wrong with stacking the deck in to make sure he stays in Lady Luck’s favor. But when at any given moment a casual remark can drag his day to grinding halt, it’s his wits he’s learned to fly by. Wits and a good dose of sheer animal instinct, since when he tracks that cardinal weaving between columns, he’s already up on his toes, ready to give chase.

Not on her heels like some wet-behind-the-ears footpad on his first follow— that would take him through too many people, guards and nobles alike, all of them used to giving commands and expecting to be obeyed. No, he’s a half dozen steps past the gate when he finds his first foothold, vaulting himself up onto the shifting thatch of some outbuilding. It’s only a skip and a jump— maybe a harrowing leap or two, but who’s counting— before he’s up on the castle’s roof, tiles clacking and clattering beneath his boots. Not his usual ones, worn in and worn down, silent as a whisper, but the new ones His Grace’s bootblacks had shined to gleaming, made more for stirrups than streets, and certainly not for rooftops.

These tiles aren’t made for walking either, but he’s no stranger to making do— even a slip off the gutters is better than being brought to his knees by some young court flower, shocked at the impropriety of a man passing by her too quick. They might shift and slide, their smooth surfaces slick beneath a pair of boots too fine for friction, but his stride is still longer than some little miss, and his path far straighter. Oh, she might know all the twists and turns between the gate and the west wing, but he—

Well, all he needs is line of sight.

*

Plans might not be his forte, but his one contingency is tucked up against the tower— a library maybe, or some royal offices, he’d never bothered to check— caught against the rough patchwork between one hall’s straight roof and the curve of the tower’s. The quiver’s untouched, bow still safe in the shadows even under the mid-day sun, and it’s nothing to string it, just—

Just this damned coat doesn’t fit. One pull to full draw and he’s got shoulders up to his neck, practically drowning him in wool.

“Ha.” He’s careful to set the bow down gentle, leaning it against the fancy balustrade they’ve got rigged up round this place, even though there’s not even a door to get out to it. “Should have known. Noble messenger was never gonna sit easy on these shoulders.”

There’s no time for a full costume change, not when he can see her dodging the west wing guards idling in the arcade, but he’s got enough to shuck off his shell of respectability, letting it crumple to the tile. Hopefully whoever His Grace lifted it from didn’t expect it back— he sure wouldn’t be carting it through the gutters to make it happen.

Strung and nocked, the bow sits easy in his hands, not even a tremble on the draw. She’s not quick enough to make aiming a challenge, cutting a path without a single dodge or weave save for where she needs to skirt passerby. If he let it loose right now, he could stop her right in her tracks, let her bleed crimson all over this spotless white, but—

Don’t harm her. His hand jerks, curse curled around it, loosing the arrow wide, burying ash in stone rather than skin. He grins, draw hand flexing at his side.

“Nice,” he murmurs, watching the girl stare at the shaft that’s sprouted from the wall in front her. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

There’s a message bound on the shaft, a pretty bit of ribbon he’d snagged from a passing pigtail, but he doubts she’ll see it, never mind bother to read it. The arrow’s enough, most times, for people to pick up that they’re not wanted. This is the part of the job he likes most— in fear, everyone obeys with the same haste as he does.

But not this girl. The ribbon’s half unfurled from the force of the shot, and she lets it trail between her fingers as she unwraps the rest. To our dear red-headed guest, it reads, a clever bit if he says so himself— but even with the spyglass, he’s too far away to appreciate how her eyes must widen, how all that brazen greed must give out to fear. His one regret keeping his hands so clean on this one, since—

Since she just rips is out of the wall and runs. Not out, the way any reasonable person would, but in. Not to safety but toward—

Toward the prince. The prince, and this whole little debacle going entirely tits up.

Make sure she goes home. The command itches like a pulse beneath his skin, one he can feel all the way to his fingers. And for once, he doesn’t resist.

*

Little Miss Pushing-Her-Luck careens around the colonnades' corners, boots squealing as she slips past another pair of promising guardsmen, too confounded by her speed to do more than shout out, “Slow down!” before her back disappears.

The command nips at his heels, trying to sink its teeth into enough sinew to hobble him— that’s the real danger being out in the streets; this curse likes to turn caltrop whenever his ear catches a raised voice— but he’s old hand at dancing out of arm’s reach. A few hops across a convenient balcony and a tip-toe across a balustrade sees him safe, whatever weak tether those words have snapping as he drops down onto a tree branch. His feet plant, back to bark, as she races through the halls around him, arrow still clutched in her grip.

“Welp,” he sighs, cold metal sliding between his knuckles like old friend. “I tried to be nice, but looks like the only way to get rid of a leech is the old fashioned way.”

He lifts his arm, letting his curse set his aim—

Just to catch himself as a mop of silver-white rounds the corner, trailed by a giant and a goddess, both with blades at their hip— and the casual coiled strength of people who know how to use them. His Highness and his aides— the younger one. “Shirayuki?”

Well, damn. Steel presses cold to his palms as he pockets them. Looks like he’s run out of chances.

*

He expects the girl to hole up; after all, what better way to cozen up to a prince than to convince him her life’s on the line? His Grace might have told him to keep the carpets clean when it came to dislodging this particular pest from the palace, but it’ll take more than a little discouragement now that she’s gone to ground. No way she’ll just walk out here and let him have another chance—

And yet, that’s what she does. Slips right out of the prince’s office— empty-handed, he notices, stomach sinking down to his knees— and down the colonnade. Like she were any other guest. Like she didn’t just survive an arrow flying in her path.

This girl’s either the bravest woman he’s ever seen, or the stupidest. And he doesn’t have time to decide, not before she takes two steps and comes face to face with the one person who can make this situation even worse: his boss.

His fingers dig right into his shoulder, trying to ease the ache. It’s not his business, whatever they’re talking about. Not unless His Grace had a mind to make it so, which doesn’t seem likely when—

Ah, when he’s drawing his blade. And holding it, right there, at the young miss’s throat.

Protect your client. His breath catches, old words gripping him like a mother cat does its kitten: with jaws around its neck. Even at cost to yourself.

“Ha.” The laugh slips through the space between his teeth. “Guess there’s no getting around that one.”

*

It’s not easy to climb his way over— the trees here are ornamental, meant to sway prettily in the breeze, not hold weight, and spaced to encourage soft-soled nobles to stroll between them. A scoundrel swinging from branch-to-branch is straight out.

And yet, with a few more gravity-defying leaps than he’d like to think about, he makes it to the one just beneath the second floor’s balustrade. Fingers gripping tight, they hauling him up, his arms giving one good tremble before he spills himself over the stone. Ah, maybe he shouldn’t have turned his nose up at that breakfast. Looks like he could have used it.

He glances up, ears perked to hear just what sort of drama has unfolded in his absence—

“Fine, if you’re right, and I’m not supposed to be here” —the girl steps forward, the blade so close it dints her skin— “then it’s your duty to take that blade and cut me down.”

—and somehow it’s gone and got worse. Ah, if only his shoulder would let up on him, maybe he’d be able to think this through. At least before His Grace went and did his job for him.

“Stop, girl!” The naked blade trembles, catching the barest glint of the afternoon sun. “I won’t hesitate.”

There’s a moment where the girl startles, eyes blinking wide, first to His Grace, then to the sword between them. This is where anyone else would balk, where they would shuffle back and try to save face, but she—

She only smiles, letting the point dip so close it’s luck that keeps it from drawing blood. “Be my guest.”

[onedivinemisfit]

Yukikitty will do her utmost to protect Obipuss from the evil handsy hooman >:[

It’s Veterinarian!AU - only, the vet is the villain! … it’s Izana. Because of course it’s him.

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata

Art: Me

[social-mockingbird]

sunlight eyes

(an Obiyuki Cowboy Bebop AU)

obiyuki bingo 2023, yeehaw! this is my first time participating, and I’m really excited to see all of the entries and post my own! this particular fic is based on the finale of cowboy bebop (with some changes, obviously) because apparently I like sadness. it was hilarious to see the similarities between the two shows: namely the existentialism and tendency towards poetic monologues, except it’s hopeful in AnS and sad in CBB. go figure. enjoy!

________

Zen’s eyes were dead before the rest of him was, and he was pointing a gun at her.

“You didn’t come because of the rain?” Her hands were in her pockets in a deliberate act of nonchalance. They were also the only part of her that was shaking.

“I was supposed to kill you,” Zen said, steady in his aim. “That day, if I had killed you, I would have been free.”

“So why didn’t you?” Shirayuki could feel her composure slipping. Zen’s eyes were so dark, devoid of anything human. Once they’d been brighter than the summer skies. She’d lain under their gaze and flown. “Why did you choose to be chased, Zen, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why did you love me?”

“What?”

The gun was rattling. “Why did you love me?”

Shirayuki couldn’t breathe. She’d waited for him that day, waited and let herself cry, letting the thunder mingle with her sobs, and she’d wondered then if there had ever been any love in his eyes, or if it was just the thrill of illegality. She’d been poisoned by him. She’d fallen in love with an illusion, and now she was terrified of waking up.

Zen had put down his gun. His hands were on her shoulders. He was embracing her, fingers in her hair, breath on her neck. She couldn’t move a muscle.

“Let’s just run away somewhere,” Zen said in her ear, and his voice was warm on her skin. “Just the two of us. Escape this world—go where no one else is. Fly away with me, Shirayuki. Please. It’ll be like a dream.”

Something deep in Shirayuki’s chest snapped. She could feel her feet on the ground, solid on the wet gravel. She could feel how his hands were clenched behind her back, not touching her despite his loving embrace. He was almost falling into her, heavy, trapping her in place.

And yet, if she opened her mouth, she knew she’d say yes. ___

There was a time when the smoke would have bothered her lungs, when she would have hated the acrid taste on her tongue, when she would have stolen the smokes from her friends’ fingers and crushed them under her boots. Shirayuki had been a healer, and she’d believed in the sanctity of the body.

But now she breathed in the nicotine with a straight face, reveling in the calm it brought her thudding heart.

The year was 2071, and it was always raining. Someone poked her arm.

“Thinking too much, cowgirl?”

“Not thinking at all.” White hair in an arc of blood. Birds like reapers carrying his soul away in their wake. Blue eyes turning to glass.

“Then what’s that frown for?”

“Obi, stop.” Shirayuki dodged his prodding finger, almost stepping out from under the wing of the ship into the pouring rain.

It was raining then, too. Hazy like a nightmare.

In response, Obi slung a blanket over her shoulders. His hands were warm even through the fabric. He never could seem to lash back out at her. 

“You’ll catch a cold like that,” he said, grinning as Shirayuki fumbled with the blanket and draped it over her arms like a cape. “Mitsuhide’s making breakfast.”

“Eggs again?”

“It’s all we’ve got, so don’t complain,” Mitsuhide yelled from somewhere inside the ship. How he’d heard Shirayuki from that far was a mystery. Maybe he was running on autopilot.

Obi’s skin had the same greyish shadow as Shirayuki’s did in the overcast light, but there was still a rosy undertone to his face that hadn’t been there in a long time. She’d never admit it did her good to see some color in his cheeks. Obi had been fresh out of snark and sarcasm lately since his last impromptu trip, and it had bothered her more than she’d like to admit to see him looking so serious.

“I’m not going to leave again,” Obi said quietly.

“Huh?” Shirayuki turned, finally looking him in the eye. Gold was so different than blue.

“My memory came back.”

Shirayuki blinked. “I thought it wasn’t going to. Obi, you hit your head so hard.”

Blood on the pavement, blood on her hands. She’d screamed his name when he wouldn’t wake up. That day he’d promised to tell her where he was going every time he left—and for someone so secretive, he’d never broken that promise.

“Nothing good came of it,” Obi laughed, bitterness on his tongue. “There was nowhere for me to return to. Torou’s long gone. I can never be Nanaki again. This—you were the only thing I could return to.”

“Obi, wait—”

“Let me finish, please.” Obi, usually so deferent to her, was facing her with thunder in his eyes. Shirayuki closed her mouth.

“You’re leaving. I can see it in your eyes. That mess with Zen and with Izana is getting to you, and you’re going to leave, and knowing you, you’re going to do it when I can’t go after you.”

Shirayuki dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her boot to avoid looking at him.

“You’re going to do something hopelessly noble and horrifically stupid and I—Shirayuki, I can’t lose you.”

“You wouldn’t be losing me, Obi, I’m not going there to die.”

“Zen’s gone,” Obi said quietly. “Isn’t he?”

He was falling like a trapeze artist without a net, boots sliding on the rain-slick rooftop. She’d felt something tear in her throat when she screamed and she scraped her hands and knees when she fell beside him, cradling his body in her arms, hoping there was still light in his eyes, shaking him, praying. Why couldn’t she stop crying?

“Izana’s men killed him,” Shirayuki was able to say, wondering vaguely why her cheeks were wet. “I have to go after him. He can’t keep doing this to people, it’s not right. He killed his own brother because of me.” “This is…a dream?”

Zen pulled her close, blood-spattered hands clutching her lapels. He was so heavy in her arms.

She hated herself for lying to Obi. There was nothing noble about what she planned to do. Izana had killed Zen, and there was a hole in her heart that needed fixing.

His gaze was far away, and he was smiling, looking through her.

“Yeah,” she’d choked. “Just a dream.”

There was one other thing she couldn’t tell Obi. She prayed he couldn’t see it in her face.

“Food’s getting cold,” Mitsuhide shouted from inside, and Shirayuki got caught up in racing Obi for breakfast, glad she didn’t have to keep fielding his questions. There would be time enough to answer all of his questions if she was right. And if she wasn’t, well…he could find the answers on his own.

____

It was quiet on the ship when Shirayuki left her room. They were drifting gently through space, sleeping with the stars, and she took advantage of the silence, sneaking to the dock. The tiny exploration ship sagged a bit, but it would do.

She heard the click before Obi stepped out of the darkness, pointing his pistol at her.

“Where are you going?”

Shirayuki lifted her hands, pivoting to face him. She hadn’t noticed him in the shadows.

“Where are you going?” Obi repeated. He was close to her now, gun lowered to her belly. She knew it was just a way to get her to talk. He’d told her the day he boarded the Bebop that hurting her was never something he planned to do. She’d taken it as a joke then, but he’d kept his promise. Obi never seemed to break his word. Unlike her.

“You told me once,” Obi said, resting the gun gently against Shirayuki’s stomach, flicking the safety on, “that the past didn’t matter.”

“I don’t care what your real name is,” Shirayuki had grumbled, the softness of her hands contrasting with her sharp tone. “I don’t care what you did before. Can you just stop letting your past rule you? It doesn’t matter. In the end it’s just a stepping stone. And no one dwells on those.”

Obi looked at the girl bandaging his arm, feeling her warm fingers on his skin, and wondered why there were tears standing in her eyes.

Shirayuki nodded.

“Then why are you so tied to yours?” Obi had lowered the gun now, and was almost leaning into her space, nose inches from hers.

“I’m not,” she protested. “I have to go, Obi, please—”

Obi grabbed her arms, not hurting her, but keeping her in place. “I never thought I’d see the day you went for revenge, Shirayuki. If I know you, that’s not what this is, despite what you want me to think. Please don’t lie to me.”

Why had she loved Zen so much?

“You’re right, it’s not for revenge.” Shirayuki was desperate now. She could feel her heart beating, her pulse picking up, and it was getting harder to tamp down. “I have to go, Obi, I have to see if-if he really loved me and if I loved him and if it was worth it.” She broke his gaze and looked at her feet. “I have to see if he’s worth dying for.” Her voice was too shaky and quiet for her liking. “He decided I was and I want to return the favor.”

Obi felt cold. “You—that’s not something you repay, Shirayuki. Death doesn’t have to be life for life, especially when the person who died for you didn’t really love you in the first place.”

That’s what Obi wanted to say. He wanted to shake Shirayuki, wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t throw her life away. That Zen had loved the game of her hatred for Izana more than he’d loved her. That he’d loved defying Izana by being with her. That Zen died because Izana didn’t forgive betrayal, and his revenge was vicious. Obi knew enough after talking to Mitsuhide, and everything else he’d figured out on his own.

But he didn’t.

Obi instead put his hands on Shirayuki’s shoulders and pulled her into his arms.

Weightless on his feet, sunlight in his eyes. Obi was light in every sense of the word.

Shirayuki snaked her fingers around Obi’s waist, burying her face in his neck. It was all she could do. It hurt to hold him but she wasn’t letting go.

When he put his hands on her shoulders, she didn’t feel like she was being weighed down, only filled up. “This isn’t something you solve by dying,” Obi said in her ear. “You’re gonna carry that weight of feeling like you don’t understand and don’t deserve someone’s sacrifice, and that’s okay. He wanted you to live, Shirayuki—I want you to live.” Obi held her tighter. “And if that means carrying the weight with you, say the word. But please don’t go down this path. Don’t die for someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

Shirayuki stiffened and Obi was terrified she’d been offended.

“I’m not going there to die, Obi,” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear. She slid her hands up his back, over the planes of his shoulders. Obi shivered, just a little. “I’m going there to find out if I’m really alive.”

Obi leaned back and looked her in the eyes.

“Well, now, if that isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, laughing a little, raising an eyebrow, and then Shirayuki was pulling him forward with her hands in his hair, and Obi couldn’t remember anything else he’d planned to say because Shirayuki’s mouth was the softest thing he’d ever tasted. She kissed him long and sweet, letting him hold her waist and press into her, and Obi tried his hardest not to think about how much this felt like a goodbye.

Shirayuki pulled back first, hands gentle on the back of Obi’s neck, a little dazed. She hadn’t really thought before kissing Obi and now she couldn’t think at all.

Why had she loved Zen?

Obi was leaning down, chasing her mouth, and she tilted up into him, closing her eyes. She felt tears on her cheeks and realized they weren’t hers, and her hands went to Obi’s face, cupped his jaw, wiped his tears with her thumbs. Zen kissed her like a guilty man and held her like a dragon.

Obi was oh-so-gently stroking her sides with his thumbs, and through his tears was able to smile into her mouth when it made her gasp.

Obi made her feel like she was flying, and like she’d have somewhere to land.

Obi said her name and ran a hand into her hair.

It was so hard to figure out why she’d loved Zen.

Resting her head on his shoulder, reveling in his warmth, Shirayuki felt safe and contented. It was so easy to love Obi. “I’ve never carried anything, Obi,” Shirayuki said, under her breath, half-hoping he couldn’t hear. “Not really. Not with you around.”

She hadn’t loved Zen. She couldn’t. Not really.

She was never meant to.

“Then don’t. Live with me.”

Shirayuki pressed her lips to his cheeks, one after the other, kissing away the still-present tears.

“I still have to fight Izana,” she told him, and Obi nodded once.

“Don’t you dare do it without me.”

____

The elevator door opened and Shirayuki charged out, red hair and a spray of bullets, and Izana’s men dropped like dolls onto the slick linoleum. The main doors opened when she slammed into them, driving her shoulder into the curving floral dragons that embossed the wood. The roof exploded. Shirayuki flung up her arms and dove for the ground, debris raining down on her from above. She could hear Izana’s footsteps on the great stairs at the front of the room. She stood and shook herself, ears ringing, as Izana descended under the newly revealed night sky.

“I told you before, Shirayuki,” Izana said, pulling two silver katanas from a sheath on his back, “Zen’s death meant yours was next.”

“And if I return the favor?”

Clack-clack-clack went her pistol as she reloaded it. Izana quirked a brow.

“Either way, Zen doomed you to die. This was your destiny from the beginning.”

“Zen’s death has nothing to do with me anymore.” Shirayuki took aim, closed an eye. “Let’s end it all.”

“As you wish.”

She moved before he did, boots clattering halfway up the stairwell, bullets clashing with Izana’s blades. Shirayuki swooped under, shooting a katana out of Izana’s hand as he swiped at her, slicing her thigh, her side. Izana’s hand came down on her gun as hers grasped the handle of his sword, and they were locked, arms shuddering as they fought for control.

“You don’t control me,” Shirayuki growled. “You never did.”

Izana stepped back suddenly, reclaiming his sword, pushing her gun back into her hands.

“Then show me.”

Izana’s sword was a silver arc spinning towards her gut, and Shirayuki fired, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get out of the way, watching the bullet gleam, dreamlike, watching it find the mark.

Izana fell.

His sword stopped inches from her stomach.

Obi was holding the blade of the katana in a gloved hand, turning it in the air, flinging it far. His fingers were cut and bleeding and they were both alive.

Izana coughed, once, and quit breathing.

Then Obi was wrapped around her and Shirayuki went limp in his arms. ____

The first rays of dawn made the courtyard blindingly bright. Izana’s men watched the figure stagger out from the wreckage, raising guns and swords.

Obi set Shirayuki down and kissed her cheek, lowering his stance, prepared to run. He was holding Izana’s swords. Shirayuki raised her arm, pointing at Izana’s men, fingers in the shape of a gun. The smile came easily to her face now. It was so easy to smile when there was nothing weighing you down.

“Bang.”

And they charged.

--------

@snowwhite-andtheknight

[ruleofexception]

A thorn in the sky (ch 5 excerpt)

A continuation of this.

~

If he weren’t still trying to fish his heart out of the pool of adrenaline it’s been soaking in since he walked out of the station, he might laugh. Double over and wheeze until his sides hurt, but-

“What the fuck, Obi?”

Pale chest rising and falling at a frantic pace – still holding a pillow over his junk with one hand and a can of bug spray in the other like it’s a baseball bat – the pink fluffy handcuff snapped around Suzu’s wrist jingles as he weakly waves the can at him in a way that, he’s sure, is meant to be threatening.

“That’s your weapon of choice? Really?” He does his best to act casual. Like his being home at this time is completely normal. A strangled laugh does its best to escape, and he gestures towards the bug spray shaking in Suzu’s hand. “And why are you holding it like that? Pretty sure it’d be more effective to spray it in someone’s eyes, rather than-”

“I should spray it in your eyes, you fuck!” Suzu bellows, “You scared the shit out of me – I thought you were at work!”

Somehow he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to tiptoe around this or distract Suzu by poking fun at the bug spray and pink handcuffs. Best keep this simple, then. Only say as much as he needs to.

“I was.” Obi shrugs, tight. Ignores the knowing gaze boring into him and leans to the side so he can shout down the hall past Suzu. “Hey Yuzuri.”

“Hi Obi!” Bubbly as ever, she hollers back; and yet her lack of appearance in Suzu’s door frame suggests they’re playing with more than cheap handcuffs today. “How’ve you been?”

Shitty. “Oh, can’t complain, I suppose.”

“Ha. You’re a terrible liar!” She says, a little too breathlessly.

“Yeah, I know.” The glass smile he wears is starting to crack and splinter. His chuckle is hollow.

He needs to drop his shit and get out of here. Maybe go grab a drink at the bar down the street and calm his nerves. Take the rest of today to wrap his head around it all, before he starts to worry about how the fuck he’s going to pull this off.

Finally lowering the can, Suzu – in all of his pale and scrawny glory – sidles up beside Obi with a jingle and concerned frown pulling at flushed cheeks. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at work?”

“I quit.” It’s a struggle to speak. The words burn and stick like bile in his throat.

“Bullshit. You love your job.”

Ah. How foolish of him; of course Suzu would see right through him. After all, they’ve only known each other for forever. Been almost inseparable since they were kids. Two scrawny outcasts, thicker than thieves and practically brothers, acting like a couple of idiots in the skatepark together. 

Unfortunately, in some ways, Suzu may know him better than he knows himself.

Still, he tries to keep the lie alive with a grin grit between his teeth, “If you don’t believe me, I’m sure you can go on down to the station and ask. It’s probably all they’ll be talking about for the next week.”

Still not buying it, Suzu grips the pillow over his junk a little tighter and leans closer with a low growl, “What’s going on, Obi?”

Warm caramel gaze searching him with an intensity that makes him want to squirm; it’s not the first time Obi thinks that it’s the type of gaze that would make Suzu a good cop, should he ever get his shit together and finish the program.

Obi swallows hard. Licks his lips and whispers a low warning, “Nothing.”

“Yuzuri’s right.” The bug can sways lazily in his grip. He sighs, giving Obi a pointed look. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Bristling – frustrated that he can’t talk to anyone about this particular mission, and still not entirely sure how he’s going to accomplish this on his own with almost no leads – Obi pushes past Suzu with a grunt, before dropping his box of shit on the kitchen island.

Something inside shatters. Based on the contents he’d hastily crammed in there, while fighting back waves of tears and feeling like he might pass out, it’s likely the mug Kiki gifted him the day they solved their first case together.

Obi’s jaw clenches. Throat burns.

Not wanting to check in the box and see the broken pieces of his favourite mug – the shattered remains that resemble his career – and unable to find it in him to look Suzu in the eyes, he turns on his heel, making a beeline for the door he’s only just come through, and snaps, “And you’re good at sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“Talk to me, Obi.” Ignoring the bite in his tone – somehow understanding that although it’s directed at him, it’s not meant for him – Suzu stumbles after him; the handcuff jangling with each step, “What happened?”

Suzu’s fingers catch at his sleeve – trying to get him to stay and explain what’s going on – and, without giving it much thought, Obi smacks his hand away with a low growl, “I can’t, Suzu.” Chest heaving and anxiety levels nearing critical once more, he pleads, “So please, don’t ask again.”

Without waiting for a response – dreading what kind of expression he might be met with if he were to dare turn around – he slips out the front door and stumbles his way through smoke-stained hallways, past nosy neighbours trying to catch a glimpse of the cop next door, and down the cracked stone steps towards the bustling street.

[sangahnomiya]

today's prompt for @snowwhite-andtheknight's obiyuki bingo: hospital!

I just think this AU would be a hilarious rom-com meet cute,,, newly single shirayuki struggling to take care of her ailing grandfather, and then she befriends the cute but reckless patient who's always in and out of the hospital for one reason or another

also:

match made in heaven

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Annual Obiyuki Community Survey

With the posting of our final Bingo master post, this marks the end of the comm’s challenge season! Thank you to everyone who has participated in our challenges this year; we have a great time planning events for you all, but it’s the people who show up that make these challenges a success!

At the end of every season, we here at the comm like to ask for feedback from both participants and spectators. Let us know what you enjoyed doing and seeing during the year so that we can make next year’s challenges even more exciting!

If you could spare a few moments, please answer this survey and let us know what you think! We here at the comm are excited to plan out a brand new year of fun events just for you guys!

[h0rizn]

My final piece for #obiyuki23 is my Pacific Rim AU fill! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ Obi and Shirayuki are totally drift compatible

Thanks for having me for this year's obiyuki bingo!! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[randowwriter]

Hi love! 1, 3, 13, 23 and 30 for the ask game pretty please ✨

Hi! <3 <3 <3 1. Obi was my first favorite in a sense? He was one of the hooks that got me into the series. He's so fun, and that just makes him a wonderful character, especially since he can make me laugh. (Like I love characters that make me laugh!) <3 <3 <3 Nowadays, it's pretty much everyone. (Except Haruka. And Brecker.) But Obi was my original favorite. 3. Raji! I was not a fan of Raji from the very beginning. It took until his character arc/character redemption arc for me to become a fan of his, and he speedily became one of my favorite characters right after that! Raji, I had to warm up to. Also, technically, Hisame. (Shhh....) Hisame when I first found out he is a character was topping my list of characters I could not and would not trust. (It probably helped that I was talking to a lot of people at the time that didn't trust him.) Hisame went from being a character that I didn't trust, to a character that I do have a bit of a soft spot for. Maybe all of the HisaKiki fics I wrote got to me, but he's definitely more trustworthy in my eyes now. Especially since I've begun listening to Sabishi Tomo when it comes to Hisame? And her enthusiasm warmed me right up to him! <3 <3 <3 13. Ooh, what immediately comes to mind is that scene where Zen and Shirayuki are on the steps and she kisses Zen's hand? I absolutely loved that scene! <3 <3 <3 Like, I'm a huge hand for hand kisses. (I blame Miraculous Ladybug for that one!) XD And just the fact that Shirayuki did it back to Zen was incredible! There's other scenes and lines too, I'm sure, but the scene that I often think back to is that hand kissing scene! 23. Oof. Tough one! So, hmmmm.... I really love my old ObiYuki fic for AU Bingo from a couple years ago? (Tumblr doesn't like me apparently, so read fics below.) Also, like most of my new fics! Like I love the MitsuKiki fic I just posted today! It's so fluffy and warm and shares an origin story with said ObiYuki fic. Also, I'm a huge fan of my ZenYuki fluff for ZenYuki Week, particularly this one. And also, the one I wrote for constellations, because I always think of a ZenYuki fic I read years ago and loved! Also, I love the Tanbarun fic I wrote for ZenYuki Week, my brief detour from absolute fluff during that week. XD And to chill with one final link, one of my most recent HisaKiki fics also makes it to the list. (I also loved my Fantasy AU, but I don't feel like digging that one up to reshare it.) XD (Apparently Tumblr does reverse order or at least so far in drafts. So, starting from the bottom is the ones I'm mentioning.) (I also am forgetful of previous favorites if they are older. So, the fact that the ObiYuki one comes up at all, is because it's been on my mind lately. And cheers to the longest oneshot I've written thus far! Which is that ObiYuki one.) <3 <3 <3 (On a non-fanfic note, ZenYuki Month 2021? Like top tier one of my favorite things! <3 <3 <3 Also, Rare Pair Week last year.) <3 <3 <3

30. Saw the first episode of the anime before I read the first manga volume, but not by much. So, I kind of started both right around the same time somehow! XD So, technically anime, but I was reading volume one before I finished the anime!

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 18

[Read on AO3]

A few months ago he would have dug in his heels. Would have really put these fancy boots to the test struggling against both Kiki and Sir’s attempts to strong arm him into this ballroom, and left a good bit of sole streaked along the stone for his troubles. Obi might not have the muscle Mister does, but but what he lacks in raw strength he makes up for with sheer cussedness. A hard thing for the Big Guy to handle, historically. Not so much for Lady Seiran.

But that was when he was just Master’s messenger, a failed assassin up-jumped to knighthood. When the only thing that kept him orbiting in the court’s highest circles was a royal decree; a flimsy bit of paper and an unbreakable chunk of crystal his only assurance between respectability and the gutter he’d been born into. And tonight—

Tonight he’s Miss’s husband. So he lets Miss Kiki lay her hand over his fine sleeve, and tries to forget that a few years ago, he would have jumped straight off this balcony. Folded himself as thin as foolscap to slip in among the shrubbery, biting his lip bloody to keep the giggles in when the guards tromped past. He’s half-tempted to try it still— he might be bigger now, better fed, but he could still give those rookies a run for their money when it came to a rousing game of cat-and-mouse— but he catches one glimpse of dress blacks through the balustrade, followed by another two or three and, well, it’s clear His Majesty already took cold feet into consideration, even after the papers were signed.

“You can’t possibly think he would let you slip through his fingers now,” Kiki murmurs, all smiles as they stride through the doors. There’s a few curious eyes that fall on them, and an even greater number that linger on the hand Sir’s got clamped to his shoulder, all friendly on the outside, but all steel hidden beneath the skin. “Not when he needs to give these people a show.”

Fair enough. The man’s not one to leave good behavior up to chance. Not his, at least. “Yeah, it’ll be a real production all right. How come no one told me there was going to be public speaking involved in this whole marriage thing?”

“Oh my,” she drawls, one corner of her mouth lifting. That’s practically a guffaw in Kiki-speak. “You didn’t think all this fêting came for free, did you?”

“Considering how I didn’t have a say in any of it” — hell, he barely consented to more than a signature on paper and a wife in name— “yeah, kinda.”

Kiki’s too dignified for a snort— at least in this dress— but the air huffs right out of her still, like this whole disaster is a real laugh riot. “You’ve never had a problem singing for your supper before. Most of the time, we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Well, sure, but that’s different.” On the business end of her ladyship’s arched brow, Obi’s tongue nearly trips over itself to blurt out, “I have to actually mean what I say this time.”

That brow hikes higher, if it’s even possible. Curves itself so much it nearly comes to a point— one Kiki would be happy to hold to his throat, if her glare had its druthers.

“I mean,” he wheedles, “that I have to be earnest.”

“Oh, come on now, Obi.” Sir chuckles, giving that lantern jaw of his a good workout. “I’m sure you’ve done it before.”

For Miss, sure. Master, at least once or twice. He’d even summoned up some liquid courage and managed it with Kiki and Sir.  But— “Not in front of people who would eat me alive.”

“There are times I’d like to eat you alive,” Kiki informs him, helpful as always. “If only to get you to stop talking.”

“Kiki.”

“I don’t see why you’re taking that chiding tone with me.” Now it’s the Big Guy under the weight of that oppressive brow, made all the more ominous by the lack of expression beneath it. “It’s true.”

“Well, yes,” Sir allows, red creeping up from his collar. “But you don’t have to say it.”

“I, for one, would be happy to be devoured by you, my lady.” Obi gives her his most charming smile, hand pressed to the place Miss tells him his heart would be— at least according to anatomical models, she would say, too thoughtful. Which only depict the most likely shapes and places of organs. Some people even have hearts on the right side of their chest, if you can believe it. “So long as it would keep me from having to make this toast.”

“You can’t be that hard pressed to say something nice.” Obi’s used to bearing up under Lady Kiki’s glares and scowls, to soldiering through her glowers and leers, but none of those are as devastating as the concern she turns on him now. “It’s Shirayuki, after all.”

It’d be harder to find fault with her, that’s what her stare implies, and that’s— that’s the problem. If they asked him to go up there and wax poetic about the blue of Master— Zen’s eyes, or the breadth of Mister’s shoulders, or the keenness of Kiki’s blade, he could raise enough praise to get them past the heaven’s gates. But to ask him to talk about Miss, to even touch the angles of what she means to him and think to come away unbloodied—

“Maybe…” Big Guy coughs, kindly keeping his eyes elsewhere as he suggests, “…you could just talk about how grateful you are.”

“What?” It’s Obi’s turn to lift a brow now, mouth ratcheting to its wryest angle. “For getting strong armed into a wedding?”

“I meant…” Sir grunts, an agitated flush working its way up from his collar. “For the opportunity to celebrate. Not everyone talks about their” — feelings, that’s what he’s trying so hard not to say— “the bride. Or groom! But their, er…gratitude for their guests—”

“That I didn’t invite.”

“—Or your host,” he adds, more than a bit strangled. “For honoring you. Even your wife for—”

“Putting up with you.” Kiki’s teeth glint like a knife’s edge between her lips. “She deserves the credit.”

“What about you, Mister?” Obi asks, ignoring her ladyship’s all-too knowing smirk. “You did one of these, didn’t you?”

“Well, er…” There’s red blooming right at the tips of his ears, almost painful to look at. “Not, ah…really, no.”

“What?” He stares at him, wide-eyed, before letting it drop the foot to fix on Kiki. “How come he gets out of it, but I don’t?”

“Precedence,” she says, all simple, like he should be able to figure out from there. “As host, it fell to my father to toast the assembled party—”

“I would have though you’d remember.” Sir’s got his brow all furrowed, like Obi should have written this all down in his diary or something. “You had, er, comments after he was done.”

“Notes,” Kiki offers with a twitch of her lips. “They were extensive.”

“Sir.” Obi pressed a scandalized hand to his chest. “Do you think I’d do you the disservice— no, dishonor, even— of being sober enough at your wedding to remember it?”

“Obi…”

Kiki raises a hand, laying it against Sir’s arm. “No, he has a point.”

Mister stares down at her. “Really?”

“But if the host’s suppose to be the one doing all the toasting, how come it’s my head on the block tonight?” Obi gives the silk swags and effusive floral arrangements a pointed glance. “I’m certainly not the one footing this bill.”

There it is, another twitch of her ladyship’s mouth. Oh, what a laugh riot she’s having tonight. “Members of the royal family are exempt from the rule.”

“What?” He doesn’t so much speak as squawk, drawing every noble eye within shouting distance. Lower, he adds, “But they’re the ones raised to talk in front of people.”

“Yes, but— what is it you’re so fond of saying to Zen?” Her teeth flash again, and he’s half convinced he can feel the points pricking at his throat. “They suffer us to live at their leisure.”

“That is definitely not what I say.” Though he’s thought it often enough. “It’s ‘I live at your pleasure.’”

It’s awful how elegant all that breeding can make a shrug. “Same difference.”

“If Shirayuki’s father were here, it would be his job to make the toast,” Sir explains, more than a little harried. Marriage might have given him a fancy title, but politics still make the man break out in a cold sweat. “But since that’s not…er…possible, it’s yours.”

“Didn’t the Marquis stand in for him out there?” Begrudgingly, on both sides, but still legally binding. “A proxy, or whatever? Shouldn’t he be the one putting together some flowery speech about duty and lying back and thinking of Clarines—”

Kiki snorts. “Do you really want Haruka lecturing the court on your worthiness as a husband?”

“All right,” he relents, steps dragging the closer they come to the banquet hall. “Good point.”

*

It’s not that Obi expects Kiki and Sir to hold his hand through the rest of the reception— at some point they’ll expect him to play lord to Miss’s lady, after all, and he assumes that will involve some ritual   hand fondling and meaningful eye contact. Much as he’d like someone to feed him his lines in this little skit, three’s a crowd, and four makes for the sort of gossip it’d take more than a marquis’s glare to clean.

It’s just— he thought they might at least see him over the threshold.

Instead, their little party hits a halt right when parquet changes its pattern, the vise grip at his shoulder easing just as Kiki’s talons retract from his sleeve, leaving him to stand there, dumb, as Miss settles in his sights. Her dress is less impressive behind a table, but the gold still shimmers as she sighs, her own eyes searching the room until she finds—

Ah, him. It’s him she’s looking for. At least, that’s what her smile says when she does, so bright and pleased he has half a mind to run right back out this door and—

And only one breath deep in that idea, the Lord and Lady Seiran slap his back hard enough to stumble him across the finish line.

“Good luck,” Sir murmurs, stepping out from his side.

Kiki slips around him, taking her husband’s arm. “You’ll need it.”

Hah. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Still, he’ll give it to them— getting over the threshold makes it easier to stroll it, even with the Marquis glaring a hole through his back. Obi’s got half a mind to saunter over there and ask about payment for a job well done— maybe it took him a couple years, but their red haired guest wouldn’t be marrying any princes anytime soon.

But it’s Miss’s eyes that draw him back, that keep his feet angled along the straight and narrow. A lady’s supposed to maintain her composure, to play coy when the object of her attention draws near, never letting a soul know her true desires— but Miss squirms with his every step, so giddy she might burst at the seams before he get to her, and it’s—

It’s infectious. Obi’s not one for butterflies in his stomach— and for all that he may joke, he’s not the kind of man with gentle flutterings of the heart either— but he’s buoyant when he bounds toward her, lighter on his feet than he’s ever been. Unsinkable, that’s how he feels as he takes his seat beside her, smirk outstretched to a smile.

“Miss.” He flips his hand on his lap palm-up; an invitation, if she cares to take it.

“Obi.” A corner of her mouth curls, mischief bright in her eyes. “I don’t think you can call me that anymore.”

My name. Even now he can remember color of her eyes, so dark he thought he might get lost in them. I’d like you to say it. Just one more time.

He can taste it on his tongue, feel the shape of it filling his mouth, and ah, if they asked him to do that stupid toast right now, he’d sing so many of her praises he’d make minstrels wish they had half as must poetry in them. “My lady.”

A laugh huffs out of her, sweeter than any wine His Majesty could serve them. “That’s not what I meant.”

He’s tempted to tease, to try and draw another please from her before he lets her have her way, but the ornate chairs beside their own sober him better than a judge. “We should talk.”

The shine disappears from her eyes, smile dimming to the realm of mere mortals. “Of course. We haven’t had the chance since…”

Say it. Obi, please…

She flushes, right from her tasteful décolletage to her hairline. It’s terrible how much he’d like to feel its heat against his lips. “You probably have a lot you’d like to ask.”

He hadn’t— just this toast business, and only then to concoct a speech they could both live through, with minimal mortification— but now that she’s mentioned he should—

“Excuse me.” A hand claps him on the shoulder, familiar in its weight— and how hard it grips him, like a mother cat biting its kitten’s scruff. “I think you’re in my seat.”

He blinks, adding up that soft, pale skin and the calluses across the palm at the same time Shirayuki gasps, “Oh, Zen!”

Her hand doesn’t slip from his, but Obi does from hers, turning to grin up at this lost prince. “Well, hello there, Highness. You take a wrong turn at the punch bowl?”

“I’m afraid not.” His smile is strained at the corners, like hide stretched across a rack. “This is my seat, and yours is to my sister’s other side.”

Obi stares down the table, stymied. “That’s three seats away.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t seem it when he shrugs, adding, “Precedence. You understand, don’t you?”

Miss frowns, a little furrow digging in between her brows. “But—?”

“Of course, Master.” It’s with numb legs that Obi gets to his feet, smiled stretched thin. “That’s the one thing you can always count on me for— I know my place.”

*

Obi might have been in the practice of dodging Wirant’s late night soirées, begging off invitations with reasons that ranged from the mundane— already scheduled to be on shift that night, and he’d walk the length of the wall between Lyrias and Wirant twice over before it was done— to the absurd— another greenhouse apprentice had managed to mix up the two different shigure, and Yuzuri had requested all hands to rescue the plants in the lower beds— but he’d gone to enough to know that the worst part of the night wasn’t all the ambitious mamas, looking for a likely knight to foist their foolish daughters on. Nor was it the dancing, though the ceaseless circles bored him— and Miss’s attempts at copying them usually resulted in a new set of boots for him— or the conversation, which even Miss called tedious, and he called mind-numbing.

Oh no, the worst part would be waiting for the titles to stop talking and eat. Those kitchens would be filled with some of the best chefs in the country making their most delicious dishes, and still theses lords and ladies would let it grow cold as they milled about the dinning room, more eager to fill their bellies with gossip than food.

But tonight, Obi hardly notices the foot-dragging; no, his attention is bent down the table, watching as Master leans into Miss, whispering in her all-too eager ear. Must be funny, whatever he says; Miss lifts her hand, hiding her giggles behind it.

Three seats away. Obi snorts. Even marrying her kept her closer to Zen.

A hand folds over his, gently urging his palm flat. “You’re going to tear the linens.”

It’s not in him to startle, but he does glance up, right into Her Majesty awaiting smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t think of it.” Her eyes slip from his to drift over the feast hall, never lingering more than a moment on a face before floating to the next. “This will all be over soon.”

“Soon?” It’s three years by his count. Too long and too short, in turns.

“Of course.” One elegant hand lifts, gesturing toward the tables. “Soon, our guests will be seated, toasted and fed, and once our stomachs have settled, you will open the floor with your lady wife. Not so long at all, if you are to think of it like that.”

Obi blinks, running the numbers, but still— he’s got no idea what Her Majesty’s on about. “Not so long until what?”

He’s getting sloppy, letting a mistake like that leave his mouth. It’s barely tripped off his tongue before she’s fixed him with something so like her husband’s smirk it makes his skin itch. “Until we send you away, of course.”

“Send us away?” If only he did remember more of Sir’s wedding, he might know why his mouth’s gone all dry. “Where?”

Her Majesty is too refined for glares and sarcasm, but the looks she sends him is rather flat. “To your rooms. Where you will retired for the night.” A corner of her mouth curls, and when her mouth does part, her smile is all teeth. “It wouldn’t do for the happy couple to dance all night. Not when you both have much more pressing duty to attend.”

It’s a good thing they haven’t started the first course, since Obi does a fine enough job choking on his own spit. “Duties—?”

Silver chimes against crystal, and the steady din of conversation in the hall comes to an utter standstill. Oh, Zen’s accused his tongue of being honeyed and silvered and honed to an edge, but the second he looks out on this crowd, it sits dull and leaden in his mouth. Obi’s palms prickle with perspiration and he presses them to the table, knowing there’s no more time to complain, no more time to bargain, he just has to stand up and—

And sit back down again, since it’s Lata who’s on his feet now, glass in hand. Lata who is glaring down the table at where another man stands, knife still poised beside the glass, glowering back.

“Oh my,” Her Majesty sighs, sounding more amused than taken aback. “Marquis Haruka and Lata Forzeno. The majordomo must be falling to pieces.”

It’s more of that precedence again, that same jostling of elbows between a well-titled lord and an heir apparent to a better one that had them both squeezing their shoulders down the aisle. Obi can’t say he’s the biggest fan, but he’ll give it this: watching these two duke it out over who has the right to say the nicest stuff about him is the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. Better than him trying to choke through it on his own, at least.

But there’s one man here who trumps both of them in position and prestige, and it’s him who gets to his feet, glass upraised.

“My lords, if you would allow me,” Zen says, each word enunciated with such crystal clarity it brokers no protest. “I would like to say a few words.”

There’s little and less that either of them can do in the face a prince, and it’s with great reluctance— from the Marquis— and begrudging respect— from Lata— that they both lower to their seats cede the floor to him.

“First, I would like to thank all of you for coming to see my good friends wed.” Zen casts him a long look down the table before turning back to his audience. “I have known both bride and groom for a long while, and I must say, many of us never thought this day would come.”

Because it was never supposed to, that’s what His Highness won’t say, though the strain of his smile does well enough. Because it was supposed to be me here.

“If I had been told only a few years ago that I would be seeing them married”—Master shakes his head, and the court laughs with him— “Suffice to say, they could not have been less suited for each other. But there’s few hearts Shirayuki can’t turn, and even fewer troubles Obi can’t talk his way out of, and somehow, they have both become some of my closest companions. My most loyal retainers.”

Master peers down at Miss, and Miss looks up at him, and for a moment, Obi sees how it should have been. The two of them together, husband and wife, hands tangled together beneath the table as Zen stood to speak. Oh, how Miss’s eyes would shine as his love of her was finally put on display, put into words so pretty there’s be songs about it, played in every tavern from here to Lyrias. The both of them side-by-side, taking the first step into their future together, always facing forward—

And him, somewhere near the back of the room, clad in his dress blacks, just happy he pulled the right shift. Because that’s what mutts like him deserve: a chance to guard the door.

“After their years together at Lyrias, I’m certain of two things. First, that together, there is nothing they cannot accomplish. And second” — Zen fixes him with a pointed look— “that Obi knows how to do his duty.”

There’s a smattering of applause as he takes his drink— one that continues longer than it might, were it anyone else who spoke. But a prince deserves his due, and they’re still clapping even and Obi takes his own mouthful of drink, barely tasting more than bubbles as he swallows it down.

And it’s in that moment that Miss stands, her own untouched glass clenched in her hand. That she looks down the table and fixes him with a look that shines.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says, jaw set like she doesn’t care either way. “I have something I would like to say too.”

[onedivinemisfit]

Reminiscing 💔

My first time participating in the Obiyuki AU Bingo in years~ the prompt was “video game” so ofc I had to do something Rimworld-related <w< the now-baroness and baron Shirayuki and Obi having a tender moment outside of their settlement, mourning the loss of two of their sons, Dario and Fukuro. They lost their lives to a flu outbreak. As head medic, Shirayuki took their deaths particularly hard.

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata

Art: Me

[social-mockingbird]

in the name of the moon...something something...whatever

(an Obiyuki Sailor Moon AU) 

my second written obiyuki bingo entry! please forgive the mad cheesiness, I do really appreciate sailor moon but I find it mad cheesy. also the idea of obi wearing sparkly shorts was too funny to not use. enjoy!

________

Obi stared at the glossy black cat sitting on his bed and started to laugh. 

He couldn’t help it. Then he looked down at himself and laughed even harder. By the time Luna could get him to calm down, calling his name in an increasingly exasperated tone, Obi was lying on the floor like a star, chest heaving with suppressed chuckles.

“This is serious,” said the cat, tail flicking with annoyance. “The magic I’ve bestowed upon you is not to be taken lightly! You are destined to save Earth from the forces of evil, Obi, and I’d like it if you had a little more gravity.”

“Okay.” Obi crossed his legs and sat up, folding his hands primly. “Consider me grave as a full moon. But you’ve got to admit, Luna, the outfit is ridiculous.”

Luna humphed. “The Moon Guardian outfit has been passed down through generations—”

“Of women, obviously, because there are too many sparkles on here for my comfort—”

“The moon shines brightly in the night sky and the guardian reflects that light—”

“The moon also goes in phases; can’t I be more of a new-moon sort of guardian? I’m more of a stealth sort of guy.” Obi raised his hands, pretending to creep. The effect was very much ruined by the white sailor shirt and shiny blue shorts.

Luna sighed. “We can talk about the outfit. But listen to me first. Your first quest will be to find your fellow Sailor Guardians. They are the guardians of other celestial bodies and will help you in your ultimate journey.”

Obi was doing his best not to yawn. “Ultimate journey?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled. “You are to find the legendary artifact, the Silver Crystal. With its supreme power—and the combined power of the Sailor Guardians—you will be able to defeat the forces of evil once and for all, and bring balance to the universe.”

“Um…Luna, look, I hear what you’re saying, but I’m really not the saving-the-world type…”

“Which is why you’ll need my training,” Luna continued patiently. “This is your destiny, Obi.”

Obi looked down at his sparkling uniform, unconvinced.

“Okay. So—I just need to find other…Sailor Guardians…and then the Crystal?”

“Yes. So you’ll do it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No!” Luna clapped her paws. “Also, you’re late for school.”

“Why,” Obi whined, leaping to his feet. “You knew.”

“The more you complain, the later you’ll be!”

Obi prayed to the god of sparkly princess powers to do some very nasty things to Luna as he threw a hoodie over the sailor shirt and skidded out the door. Apparently the ability to run in platforms came free with the new guardianship.

____

Obi was grateful that the magic clothes had faded halfway on the way to school, especially since the platforms were hurting his feet. There had been no sign of Luna during the day, and while he hadn’t really been looking, no sign of any Sailor Guardians, either.

Are they going to be classmates or something?

There had been a very tall boy with turquoise hair who’d stared at him for the entirety of second period, but he’d chalked that up to boredom.

There had also been that absolutely enchanting red-haired girl he'd nearly knocked over on his way to school who had accepted his eight apologies with the most adorable smile he'd ever seen, and smelled like flowers, and had the nicest hands, and he needed to get a life.

The pin Luna had given him rested securely in the inside pocket of his hoodie and had stayed cool all day, despite being up against his skin. School was now over and he’d holed up in his favorite tea shop with the massive pile of homework he’d accumulated. Jasmine tea steamed comfortingly in the cup to his right and a massive anpan sat next to it. Obi was reaching for the sweet bun, ready to sink his teeth into it, and then the entire tea shop exploded outward and Obi found himself flailing through the air, surrounded by shards of broken glass. He landed unhurt several feet away from the smoking scene and got to his feet, blinking in shock. There was a gaping hole in the side of the tea shop and despite the commotion no one was running to help, or screaming? In fact, the entirety of the street was empty.

It was then that Obi remembered there was a parade in the town square and they’d blocked off this road. That explained the distinct lack of people on the street when he’d walked over after school. And the cheering, music, and shouting from two streets over. There was no way anyone had heard anything over the celebration.

Obi thought that was weirdly convenient of the universe.

From the wreckage of the shop stepped a beautiful lady with short reddish hair, holding her hands at her sides in a dramatic sort of supervillain pose. She’d been behind the counter about five minutes ago and the more Obi looked at her, the less human she became. The last time he’d checked women didn’t have bulging yellow eyes and lizard-like skin on the daily.

“Moon Guardian,” she hissed, “I am Jadeite. We meet at last.”

Obi shuffled into a weak sort of fighting pose, raising his fists, more confused than anything else. He was okay with fighting as a whole and figured this was a kind of boss fight, since he’d just been declared savior of the universe (or whatever) but he hadn’t expected anything this soon. He hadn’t even had a mastering-his-powers montage yet. Had Luna even mentioned any sort of training?

“Yeah, that’s—me. Unfortunately. You’ve heard of me? I just got the job this morning.”

Jadeite laughed, the sound like dark water over sharp rocks. “You are funny, little guardian.” Then her hands started to glow a menacing green. “Too bad I have to kill you.”

Obi would have laughed if that green energy didn’t look so deadly. The brooch tucked into his jacket began to burn, so he took it out, holding it in his palm. It was also glowing.

“Obi!”

Luna was behind him, perched on a wall.

“What?” Obi held up the brooch. “Is this you?”

“Excuse me,” said Jadeite, dropping her hands a little. “I’m on the clock.”

“You have to transform!” Luna pointed a paw at the brooch.

“Okay, fine. You did it last time. Go ahead.”

“No, it has to be you! You have to yell Moon Prism Power, Makeup! That’s your transformation phrase!”

“Okay, are you serious? How long has it been since you’ve had a male guardian?”

A blast of green energy sang by Obi’s ear, smashing into the wall.

“Moonprismpowermakeup!” Obi screeched.

The brooch hummed, shooting out bursts of white light. Obi felt his feet leave the ground and he began to spin, the way he had in his bedroom earlier that day. But this felt different. More powerful.

It also took about twenty seconds longer.

“I am Handsome Guardian Sailor Moon,” Obi yelled, posed dramatically in the air, hair swirling around his ears.

Jadeite looked a little dumbstruck.

Obi pointed the staff that had magically appeared in his hands at her. “In the name of the Moon,” he intoned, voice echoing, “I will punish you!”

A blast of energy shot from the staff and sent Jadeite spinning backwards about 20 feet, into the rubble of the tea shop. Obi flew after her, laser-focused, and found her smoking body in a heap on top of what used to be the front counter.

He landed, gently, and felt the focus fade from his brain.

“You did it!” Luna leapt atop a turned-over chair, smiling the way cats do. “See? This is your destiny!”

“I guess—I guess so.” Gently, Obi turned the staff over in his hands, examining the moon crest on top of it, the ornate carvings on the handle. He did feel different.

“Seriously, though, I could lose the shorts, I’m getting a wedgie.”

Luna rolled her eyes—then she was pointing behind Obi, screaming something he couldn’t hear because there was a terrible pain in his back and he was skidding across the damaged floor—

Jadeite was a horrible twisted thing, leaning over him, blackened and grinning, hands charging with deadly green—

A single rose hit the floor in front of her feet and stuck.

Jadeite paused, straightened a little, looked up in confusion. Obi, dazed and aching, looked too, towards the entrance of the shop—

Silhouetted in the sunlight stood a lanky figure dressed in a tasteful black suit and flowing cape with red lining. A white mask covered the top half of her face.

She looked utterly calm as she threw another glinting rose, piercing Jadeite in the chest. The monster screamed and collapsed, finally lying still.

Obi blinked, hard.

“What.”

The girl stepped into the rubble, smiling mysteriously at Obi. Her hair was as red as the lining of her cape.

“You did well, Sailor Moon,” she said.

“Um,” Obi muttered intelligently, intoxicated by the sudden scent of flowers. “Who are you?”

“My name is--Tuxedo Mask.” The girl lost a little of her composure when she said the name, like she wasn’t quite used to saying it.

Obi very politely chose not to say no, duh.

“We will meet again.” Lifting her cape, Tuxedo Mask disappeared in a swirl of material.

Obi stared after her.

“Luna, please tell me one of the signs of concussion isn’t seeing pretty girls who throw roses at people.”

“It’s not,” griped Luna, glaring after the girl. “I didn’t like that.”

“Speak for yourself.” It hurt to stand, but Obi managed, despite having to get up on three-inch platforms.

“She can’t be trusted, Obi, weird people who pop in out of nowhere are suspicious!”

“She didn’t seem evil to me. She literally just saved me from being killed.”

“Tuxedo Mask,” mused the cat. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for her.”

“Me too,” said Obi, and he meant it.

____

@snowwhite-andtheknight

[ruleofexception]

Tagged by @jhalya <3

Rule: post the last sentence/line from your WIP or wherever you left off in your art. Then tag as many people as there are words in that sentence/line. Please make a new post if you decide to join the game.

~

Unfortunately, booze and shock can only do so much to mask the pain; and it’s quickly losing its ability to keep him conscious. Still, he manages to tease, “And what if I am?”

Going to try tagging @meibemeibelline, @akaivampire, @onedivinemisfit, @ccprovolomies and @kpslp!

[sangahnomiya]

totally did not forget to post this or anything but here's my first entry for @snowwhite-andtheknight's obiyuki AU bingo challenge! today's prompt: Peter Pan 🫶🏼

this was inspired by the old, ancient copy of peter pan that I had as a kid — I can't quite remember since it's been years, but one thing I do remember was this very sweet illustration of Peter and Wendy together. the minute I saw this prompt on my bingo board I just knew that scene had to be for obiyuki 🫶🏼

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2024 Master Post

After six weeks, Obiyuki Au Bingo has CLOSED! Although all our challenges at the comm are not competitive, we like to have a few fun stats to close out the end of bingo:

Highest Scorer (each square 1pt, bingo 5pts, blackout 25pts): @claudeng80 (10 points, 5 squares & 1 bingo)

Runner Up: @sabraeal (4 points, 4 squares)

Most Spaces Filled (outside blackouts): @claudeng80

Number of Players with Bingos: 1 out of a possible 11

Total Number of Works: 15

Total Fics Written: 9

Art Pieces Completed: 3

Playlists Made: 3

Total Words Written: 20,278 words

[Works By Creator, under the cut]

@batgirlsay

Embracing the Light Send Me Into Space

@claudeng80

In Herba Veritas, Chapter 2 Letters From the Front Swift as the Wind (Animorphs AU, Chapter 1) Inscrutable as a Shadow (Animorphs AU, Chapter 2) Temporary Duties

@ddeath648

Death Parade

@kpslp

I’ll tell you something you may want to hear

@sabraeal

At Your Command, Chapter 2 Brewed With Intent, Part 3 Friends with Amenities (The Wide Florida Bay) Get Up Eight, Chapter 12

@sangahnomiya

Come here often? “I shall give you a kiss”

[obsidiancorner]

ObiYuki Bingo ‘19

Dragons 

[batgirlsay]

Mockingjay and the Miner

A Hunger Games AU Playlist for Obiyuki Bingo 2023 by @snowwhite-andtheknight

After a few songs with general Hunger Games vibes, I chose songs with coal mine and childhood crush references that are mostly from Gale’s point of view (with some Katniss trauma in there too). Similarly to how I like both Zenyuki and Obiyuki, I also like both Hunger Games ships for different reasons, but Gale fits better for Obi feels!

Mockingjay and the Miner

Dead Air- Chvrches Deny It All- The Dear Hunter The Gold- Manchester Orchestra Diamonds and Coal- Incubus The Silence- Manchester Orchestra Safe and Sound (Taylor’s Version)- Taylor Swift You’ve Haunted Me All My Life- Death Cab for Cutie Rear View- Manchester Orchestra

Summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

Dead Air- Chvrches

I will never believe what they say There is a strength in enduring

You will be all that I seek in a twisted light

We hold up to an idea And we'll fight it, what we can't see

Deny It All- The Dear Hunter

The hollow stick to arrogance that binds But good faith and fortune rarely reward our cries While we wait carefully and see

Denied and borrowed tonight Deny, deny it all And it all will go away Close your eyes and deny it all

The Gold- Manchester Orchestra

Couldn't really love you anymore You've become my ceiling I don't think I love you anymore

That gold mine changed you You don't have to hold me anymore Our cave's collapsing I don't wanna be me anymore

"You don't open your eyes for a while You just breathe that moment down."

I believed you were crazy You believe that you love me You and me, we're a daydrink So lose your faith in me

Wasn't really dangerous for us We'd just catch you coughing What the hell are we gonna do? A black mile to the surface Well, I don't wanna be here anymore It all tastes like poison

Can't open your eyes for a while You just beat that moment down You can't open your eyes for a while You just breathe

Diamonds and Coal- Incubus

If it’s good to complicate then both of us are doing fine Just keep your eyes on your part and leave me alone to mine

Come on, in spite of this we’re doing just fine Even diamonds start as coal Give us time to shine Even diamonds start as coal

We’re both aligned in frame of mind, but circumstance has got us good And now you’re seeing a side of me I wished no one ever would

The sweetest things They burn before they shine We think way too much Look at us losing touch A promise is a promise until

The Silence- Manchester Orchestra

Why do I deserve the science To feel better about you? At a loss, I lost my cool I denied that I found you I tried to be a basket case I did not surprise you I'm trying to find a signal fire Let me know when I should move

But you, amplified in the silence Justified in the way you make me bruise

I don't want to waste away It was all I gave to you Take me back and take my place I will rise right up for you Nobody's gonna tear you down now "You can go anywhere but you are where you came from"

Let me watch you as close as a memory Let me hold you above all the misery Let me open my eyes and be glad that I got here

Safe and Sound (Taylor’s Version)- Taylor Swift

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said, "I'll never let you go" When all those shadows almost killed your light I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone" But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

Just close your eyes The sun is going down You'll be alright No one can hurt you now Come morning light You and I'll be safe and sound

You’ve Haunted Me All My Life- Death Cab for Cutie

You've haunted me all my life Through endless days and countless nights

You're always out of reach when I'm in pursuit Long-winded then suddenly mute And there's a flaw in my heart's design For I keep trying to make you mine

And so I wait, but I never seem to learn How to capture your diminishing returns I still see you through the eyes of a child Not even thinking we could tame the wild

Rear View- Manchester Orchestra

You were born in a bathtub on Deer Lake and the cradle collapsed And I promised I'd give you a mansion, I'm afraid this is it

Still, you're the reason I'm breathing, the soul in my step I've been running out of excuses, but nobody checks Scream when you need me, in fact, you can scream when you don't I'd rather sit here with you screaming than sit here alone

The fire in the rear view is smaller, the further we get