#middling in that like the bones of a good story are there but it just doesn’t go far enough in any aspect of what it’s engaging with

[yamayuandadu]

From Shinoda Myōjin to Sakaki no Mae: the history of Kuzunoha (and a few others)

Abeno by Shūhō Yamakawa (public domain; via wikimedia commons)

A few months ago I asked a more or less representative group of potential readers how familiar they are with Kuzunoha. Save for a single tongue in check response, "that's the Devil Summoner guy with the sideburns, right", the results were fairly uniform: most people are aware that she is a fox and the mother of Abe no Seimei - but not much beyond that. 

Kuzunoha is simultaneously probably the single most famous Abe no Seimei-adjacent literary character today, overshadowing even actual historical figures. She arguably changed the Abe no Seimei “canon” in a way few other works did. Even with the “onmyōdō boom” still in full swing in modern popculture, many characters from earlier Seimei tradition remain obscure - but Kuzunoha is arguably equally as famous as her son.

This prominence lead to a variety of misconceptions, most notably to viewing the story according to which Seimei was the son of a fox as considerably older and more integral to his fame than in reality. In particularly disreputable online sources you might even see it being presented as THE fox romance story, an archetype example from the dawn of history of Japanese literature. However, despite stories about foxes and onmyōji both being a mainstay of popular entertainment through the middle ages already, Kuzunoha was only invented in the Edo period - and in the case of most of the major developments pertaining to her we can pinpoint the exact sources. 

Read on to find out how the story of Kuzunoha arose and changed through the Edo period, whether the character was always known under this name, what she had to do with Kamo no Yasunori, and more. An excursus will also introduce you to the works and life of Kamo no Yasunori no musume, possibly the most unique thinker of the Heian period. That’s not all you will be able to learn, though.The second half of the article goes beyond Kuzunoha, and introduces a selection of other characters from broadly understood Seimei literature - from Seimei’s wife to an immortal Chinese disciple of the bodhisattva Monju. It was initially intended as a standalone sequel, but I figured it would be preferable to publish both halves in one go. Is listening to gossip a form of divination? How many bones do you need to resurrect a person? What do eclipses have to do with board games? Answers to all these questions - and more - await under the cut!

Before Kuzunoha: introductory notes on foxes in medieval and early modern Japan

Before discussing the development of the story of Kuzunoha, it’s necessary to briefly summarize the history of foxes in Japanese literature. It arguably starts with one of the earliest Japanese chronicles, the Nihon Shoki (720). However, foxes only really appear there as omens. The relevant entries are very brief and essentially boil down to reporting an unusual (for example albinistic) fox was sighted somewhere, or alternatively that a regular fox acted in an unusual way. It’s hard to really call them “stories”. They also don’t really indicate that foxes were regarded as shapeshifters just yet, in contrast with contemporary Chinese sources. The oldest example of a Japanese story involving a fox shapeshifting into a woman - arguably the most famous and widespread subgenre of “fox literature” - appears in the setsuwa collection Nihon Ryōiki (日本霊異記), dated to the early ninth century. This motif, like many other stock elements of fox tales, originates in China. Due to space constraints it is not possible to discuss the development of this genre on the mainland, but it will suffice to say that the literary image of foxes was already fairly solid by the Tang period. A good example of a classic Chinese fox story of a similar sort as the Nihon Ryōiki one is The Tale of Miss Ren from the late eighth century. In both cases, the disguise eventually comes undone, and the true identity of the fox character comes to light, which forces her to leave her human life behind. This remained a mainstay in later periods.

An illustration from Tamamizu Monogatari (Kyoto University Rare Materials Digital Archive; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

The importance of foxes in Japanese literature grew considerably in the “middle ages”, the Kamakura and Muromachi periods. The popularity of stories about animals acting like humans in general increased, in no small part due to the growth of new ideas about the nature of enlightenment. The Tendai school of esoteric Buddhism advanced the view that every living being possessed an innate Buddha nature, and could thus attain enlightenment. A good example of a medieval fox story is Tamamizu Monogatari. It combines elements already present in these discussed earlier, though they are reconfigured in unexpected ways; furthermore, the eponymous fox character’s religious considerations are a fairly major part of the plot.  It is worth noting that the story of Tamamo no Mae, Kuzunoha’s main competitor for the title of most famous fox character in the history of Japanese literature, first developed in the middle ages too. However, it is somewhat unconventional in that the original story is just a really weird twist on Sutra of Humane Kings - the fox theming is ultimately somewhat superficial.

The newfound popularity of fox tales never really declined afterwards, and many new ones arose through the Edo period in a variety of mediums, including but not limited to novels, puppet plays and kabuki. The old material was often reinterpreted in new, unexpected ways to suit the evolving taste of the audience. This is the environment in which Kuzunoha arose.

The evolution of Kuzunoha, from Hoki-shō to kabuki

The oldest prototype of Kuzunoha appears in the Hoki-shō (簠簋抄; “The ritual containers, annotated”), an early seventeenth century commentary on one of the most famous medieval religious treatises, Sangoku Sōden Onmyō Kankatsu Hoki Naiden Kin��u Gyokuto Shū (三國相傳陰陽輨轄簠簋内伝金烏玉兎集, “The Book of the Gold Crow and the Jade Rabbit, Secret and Exposed, of the Round Vessel and the Square Vessel, the Wheel and the Wedge, the Yin and the Yang, Transmitted Through the Three Countries” - the title is basically a long enumeration of various dualities representing yin and yang; as you will soon see, various fictional tomes present in stories about Seimei reference it) or Hoki Naiden (簠簋内伝) for short. Its compiler (or compilers) collected multiple, often contradictory, tales about the source of Abe no Seimei’s supposed supernatural powers - many of which were seemingly adaptations of completely unrelated folk tales.

One of them states that Seimei’s mother wasn’t a human, but donned a human guise before giving birth to him. At the age of three Seimei was abandoned by her, but as a parting gift he received a poem explaining that he will be able to meet her in the Shinoda forest in the Izumi province. Many years later, Seimei recalled the poem and decided to travel there to pray at a local shrine. Its deity, known simply as Shinoda Myōjin (信太明神; Myōjin, “bright deity”, is a common historical title of local deities, cf. the likes of Shinra Myōjin or Sekizan Myōjin), appeared to him in the form of an old fox, and told him she is his mother. It’s not Seimei’s only “origin story” collected in this volume, though - elsewhere it states that he was a being from the Dragon Palace (龍宮, Ryūgū). This seemingly didn’t catch on, and we have yet to see a modern work bold enough to make him some sort of fishman.

Hoki-shō does not explain why Seimei’s mother left him, but another likely contemporary collection of short tales, Tsuki no Karumo Shū (“Seaweed gathered in the moonlight”), provides a hint: here Seimei’s mother composes the poem and leaves because his father cheated on her. She is later encountered first by her ex, and then by Seimei, in the Shinoda forest, in both cases taking the form of a fox, much like in the Hoki-shō. She also provides her son with a jewel which lets him understand animals - an item which also appears in other legends about him, though not necessarily in the same context. Curiously, outside of this supernatural episode, this work generally follows historical information about Seimei. It correctly relays that his father was a low ranking court official and that he studied under the famous onmyōji Kamo no Yasunori.

A breakthrough in the history of Kuzunoha occurred with the publication of Ryōi Asai’s Abe no Seimei Monogatari (安倍晴明物語; “The story of Abe no Seimei) in 1662. Various disconnected legends collected in the Hoki-shō and similar sources came to be forged into a single narrative for the first time ever, which turned out to be a successful approach. Seimei, while never really forgotten, became a favorite of Edo period audiences, and a “Seimei boom” of sorts occurred, with numerous new works focused on his life and exploits being published.

Young Seimei meeting Otohime, as described in Abe no Seimei Monogatari(public domain, via National Archives of Japan Digital Archive; all illustrations from this novel included in this article have been sourced from these scans; another set can be found on the website of the Waseda University Library)

It would be unfair to say that Abe no Seimei Monogatari is just a direct adaptation of Hoki-shō, though. It is an innovative work in many ways, and in some cases rewrites completely unrelated legends with Seimei as the protagonist. For instance, Seimei at one point visits the dragon palace to help Otohime in what is obviously a novel twist on the tale of Urashima Tarō (though it might very well be an echo of his second origin story from the Hoki-shō) - just without any of the repercussions for the protagonist. Seimei was, presumably, built different, to put it colloquially.

Innovations are also present in the section of the story dealing with Seimei’s mother. In contrast with the sources discussed above, Abe no Seimei Monogatari also provides his father with a name - Abe no Yasuna (安倍保名). He is introduced as a farmer living in Abeno, a village near the Shinoda forest (in earlier legends Seimei was said to hail from Nekoshima, located near Hitachi). The reason why the mother leaves is curiously not provided. The novel simply states that one summer day she abandoned her family - and that’s really it for her relevance. 

It is not certain if Abe no Seimei Monogatari was a direct influence on the next major work dealing with Seimei's origin, the 1674 puppet play Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō (しのだづまつりぎつね并あべ晴明出生; “The Shinoda wife, fox trapping and the birth of Abe no Seimei”). While such a connection is not impossible, it might have alternatively depended on a now lost sekkyōbushi (説経節), a type of Buddhist ballad accompanied by shamisen and puppet performances. However, no direct evidence for the story of Kuzunoha ever being adapted in such a form exists.

Regardless of whether there is a connection or not, the play does follow Abe no Seimei Monogatari when it comes to the identity of the eponymous character’s father. It additionally establishes that Yasuna owns the mystic tome Hoki Naiden, here described as a family heirloom passed down since the times of Abe no Nakamaro (more on him later). Most importantly for the topic of this article, many new details regarding the marriage of Seimei’s parents emerge here for the first time.

Actor Nakayama Bun'emon as Ishikawa Akuemon (ukiyo-e.org; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

A new character shows up in the relevant part of the story, Ishikawa Akuemon (石川悪右衛門), a brother of Dōman, Seimei’s rival from Abe no Seimei Monogatari and a variety of other sources. While Dōman is most likely based on a historical person (though one with no real relation to Seimei - more on that in a sec), Akuemon is entirely fictional. Through Dōman’s influence he received a government post near the Shinoda forest. His modus operandi is to obtain the liver of a white fox, since his brother told him it can be used to heal his ailing wife. Yasuna encounters him during a hunt, and saves a fox from him. This leads to a fight in which he almost ends up killed, until another fox intervenes. By disguising himself as a priest serving in Akuemon’s family temple he tricks him into sparing Yasuna’s life.

Some time later, Yasuna saves a woman from drowning, and subsequently marries her. He has no choice but to live with her in the Shinoda forest, since through a complex string of events resulting from Akuemon killing his father Abe no Yasuaki (安倍泰明) he had to kill him (and is effectively an outlaw, as I understand). He and the woman eventually have a son.

When the son - who is, obviously, Abe no Seimei - is seven years old, his mother accidentally reveals to him that she is a fox who took human form. She becomes so enchanted by blooming chrysanthemums that she loses grasp of her disguise. Kid Seimei is horrified by this revelation, and his mother decides she has to leave. She leaves a letter for him in which she expresses her sadness about this turn of events, and another for Yasuna, in which she reveals that she was the fox he saved, and that everything that happened between them since was an elaborate way to repay that favor.

It might be worth noting that the idea that foxes were particularly fond of chrysanthemums was a well established trope. It goes back to a poem by Bai Juyi, who in turn influenced a host of classic Japanese poets, including but not limited to Miyako no Yoshika, Ki no Haseo, Shimada no Tadaomi, Ono no Takamura and Sugawara no Michizane. By the Edo period, it was essentially common knowledge, so the scene was less surprising to contemporary audiences than it might be for us.

Despite all of the innovations in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō, its author felt no need to provide Yasuna’s wife with a name. That wasn’t exactly unique, though it’s worth stressing once again that the first version of this character from Hoki-shō for all intents and purposes did have a name, Shinoda Myōjin.

The name Kuzunoha appears for the first time in the kabuki play Shinodazuma (信太妻) from 1699. However, its origin lies in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō. A poem in the letter Seimei receives from his mother in it ends with the line “the kudzu leaves whose backs are visible” - urami kuzunoha (うらみ葛の葉). This phrase appears fairly common in waka poems. Here it serves as a wordplay - hiragana is utilized because depending on the kanji used, urami can refer not just to the underside of a leaf (裏見) but also to bitterness or resentment (怨み or 恨み). According to Cody M. Poulton, the poem actually originates in a story unrelated to Seimei which circulated in the Izumi province. Its protagonist is a hunter who saves a wounded fox, who then takes the form of a woman and marries him; the similarities are otherwise very vague, as no onmyōdo elements are involved, and the fox commits suicide in the end, after leaving behind the poem.

Naming Kuzunoha was not the only innovation of Shinodazuma. It also makes Akuemon the central villain, eliminating Dōman altogether. His villainy reaches truly cartoony heights - before starting the fox hunt already present in the earlier play he actually tries to pressure a priest at a shrine whose kami uses these animals as messengers to procure a white specimen for him.

Some more focus is given to his wife. In the earlier play, not much is said about her other than that she is sick and Akuemon is convinced he knows how to remedy that. She doesn’t even receive a name. In Shinodazuma she is called Satsuki no Mae. Furthermore, we learn that she secretly hates her husband and is only feigning an illness to avoid him. Her real love is a certain Mitani no Zenji, a retainer of Abe no Yasuna. This character already appears in a very minor role in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō, but there he is a retainer of Yasuna’s father, not Yasuna himself.

Zenji’s relevance doesn’t end there. Kuzunoha is actually saved by him, not by Yasuna. However, the conventional romance nonetheless happens, though with a twist. Kuzunoha must reveal her true form because Yasuna has an evil younger brother, Dakaku no Suke, who shows up near the end to  try to force Kuzunoha to have sex with him. To achieve that he threatens that he will kill kid Seimei. In response, his mother reveals that she is a fox, and flees. Kuzunoha returns one last time in the final scene of the play after Seimei manages to find her in the Shinoda forest with the help of another new character, a cook named Kisuke. This role was apparently added entirely to accommodate the comedic actor Yamatoya Jinbei II (大和屋甚兵衛).

Elements of Shinodazuma and its earlier partial namesake were both incorporated into yet another play, Shinoda no Mori Onna Urakata (“Female Diviner in the Shinoda Forest”), which in turn influenced the single most famous portrayal of Kuzunoha, commonly referred to simply as, nomen omen, Kuzunoha. It dates to 1734, and was originally the fourth act of a five act play, Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami (芦屋道満大内鑑; “A Courtly Mirror of Ashiya Dōman”) by Izumo Takeda (竹田出雲) II. However, the full version is rarely performed today.  As you can probably guess from the title, Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami puts Dōman, here also referred to as Ashiya no Hyōe Michitaru (芦屋兵衛道満), back into the spotlight, reversing the trend of making Akuemon more prominent. The plot is essentially a succession struggle between him and Abe no Yasuna, with a variety of unexpected twists. Both of them are portrayed as students of Kamo no Yasunori (here written as 加茂保憲 instead of the expected 賀茂保憲), who passes away prematurely without designating an heir from among his disciples. This is quite troublesome, not least because the legitimate heir will gain control over the mystical tome Kin’u Gyokuto Shū (金鳥玉兎集), which originally belonged to a Chinese sage named Hakudō (this is not the last time you’ll see him in this article) before being passed down to Yasunori. Various factions in the court aim to secure control over it to effectively control the country with the mystical divinatory knowledge contained within.

Sakaki no Mae (Minneapolis Institute of Art; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

While most characters are unaware of this, Yasunori intended to have his adopted daughter Sakaki no Mae (榊の前) marry Yasuna, and to give him Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. However, as he failed to do so in time, and only provided his daughter with a key to the secret spot where the book is hidden, a plot is set in motion by his wife. She hides the book and accuses Sakaki no Mae of stealing it to give it to Yasuna against her father’s wishes. Sakaki, who is innocent and in fact refused to open the hiding spot of the book (not that it accomplished much since her stepmother illicitly prepared a copy of the key), decides to put the blame entirely on herself to protect Yasuna and then commits suicide. However, when Yasuna learns about that he is overcome by grief and disappears.

Meanwhile, the widow’s brother Jibu no Tayū (治部大輔), who is also her co-conspirator, meets with his son-in-law Michitaru to give him the stolen Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. He orders him to use the book to divine how to make sure Miyasudokoro (御息所; not the Tale of Genji character), one of crown prince Sakuragi’s (桜木親王) concubines, who belongs to the same courtly faction, will be the first to conceive an heir. Michitaru states that the best way will be the dakini no hō (荼枳尼の法) a secret ritual which requires the liver of a white fox. Jibu no Tayū’s minion Akuemon, who as far as I can tell is not a relative of Michitaru/Dōman here, is tasked with procuring it, since he comes from an area where white foxes can be easily found.

It should be noted here that Michitaru is himself not necessarily portrayed as malevolent in this scene. While he is a participant in this scheme, and even performs rituals meant to help Akuemon with killing Rokunokimi (六の君; also not the Tale of Genji character), the concubine favored by Jibu no Tayū’s rivals, he only acts under the threat of losing both Kin’u Gyokuto Shū and his wife Tsukubane (築羽根).

All of the soap opera-worthy courtly drama forms the first act of the play. Kuzunoha only appears in the second. As we learn, she is the younger sister of Sakaki no Mae, and looks exactly the same as her. Yasuna encounters her when he reaches the Shinoda forest. Due to lacking clarity of mind, he at first assumes that he got reunited with Sakaki no Mae. However, Kuzunoha manages to help him overcome his grief, and explains she is not who she assumes she is. Yasuna is nonetheless still smitten, and asks her parents (it would appear Kuzunoha was not adopted by Kamo no Yasunori unlike her sister), Shinoda no Shōji (信太庄司) and his wife Shigarami (柵), to let them get married. 

Alas, it turns out this is impossible, because Kuzunoha’s parents already promised her to her cousin… Akuemon. Following the universal principle of “speak of the devil and he doth appear”, Akuemon promptly appears, chasing a white fox to complete the mission he was entrusted with earlier. He is instantly thwarted by Yasuna and his attendant Yokanbei (与勘平). The latter then leads Kuzunoha and her parents to safety, but Yasuna apparently doesn’t notice this, and for a moment he fears that she was kidnapped. However, his worries soon disappear, as she appears again out of nowhere. In the culmination of the second act, the two then decide to hide for some time in a remote village, Abeno (the same one as in Abe no Seimei Monogatari).

What follows sounds almost like a comedy of errors. Long story short, it turns out that Michitaru has in fact saved Rokunokimi from Akuemon and hid her in his house. When Jibu no Tayū learns about this, he orders her to be killed (again), which triggers a chain reaction. Michitaru by accident kills his father, who had no part in the plot, but tried to take the blame to shield his son from Jibu no Tayū’s wrath. Michitaru’s wife then kills her father, as she has learned about his nefarious intentions and about pressuring Michitaru into helping him. In the aftermath of all of that, Michitaru realizes he has had enough and should go back to honest onmyōdo practice he was supposed to engage in as a student of Kamo no Yasunori full time. He takes the new name Dōman to signify his transformation.

Seimei and Dōman, as depicted by Hokusai (wikimedia commons)

As I already pointed out earlier, the play doesn’t follow Dōman’s usual characterization. Quite the opposite, it’s pretty much a conscious reversal - that’s where the “mirror” in the title actually comes from. Other fictional portrayals of Dōman make him a villainous counterpart of Seimei, and Edo period audiences were well aware of that. There was no shortage of works focused on their rivalry. It’s explored in detail in Abe no Seimei Monogatari, but also for example in the 1792 novel Abe no Seimei Ichidaiki (安倍晴明一代記, “Abe no Seimei’s Life Story”).

It’s worth noting that Dōman’s villainy might have a vague historical basis. It generally assumed that he was inspired by a certain, nomen omen, Dōman (道満), known from the Seiji Yōryaku (政事要略). He was reportedly employed by Takashina no Mitsuko (高階光子) in 1008. He is described as a hōshi onmyōji (法師陰陽師), literally “ priest onmyōji” - a designation for an unofficial onmyōji, basically. Such individuals were seemingly particularly commonly hired by courtiers to curse their rivals (something a regular onmyōji was legally prohibited from engaging with). A reference to a hōshi onmyōji being accused of that is preserved in Fujiwara no Sanesuki’s diary, the Shōyūki (小右記), for example. It is not entirely uncertain if the historical Dōman was involved in similar activities, it is clear that his fictional derivative is based on the curse specialists. 

The connection between history and fiction should not be overestimated, though. The kinship between the historical and fictional Dōmans is ultimately quite vague, and the former didn’t really have anything to do with Seimei; their rivalry is an entirely fictitious invention. In particularly it’s worth pointing out it’s basically the standard to portray Dōman as older than Seimei, while the only references to his historical counterpart postdate Seimei’s death by three years - and considering he was unusually long-lived, it’s easier to assume they had nothing to do with each other than that Dōman was somehow even older than him.

Putting the historical Dōman aside, the third act was essentially custom tailored towards the tastes of contemporary audiences, but surprisingly failed to leave a lasting impact. It is instead the fourth act which became the most famous part of the play, and the most famous portrayal of Kuzunoha. It starts with a timeskip: as we learn, Yasuna and Kuzunoha got married and had a son, who is now five years old. However, it turns out that his mother is in fact not the real Kuzunoha. This is revealed when she appears with her parents to visit Yasuna - she’s been bedridden for years in the aftermath of the escape, and only recovered recently. Her parents decided to let her and Yasuna get married. However, they don’t find him at home, since he left to journey to a number of religious sites to pray for his family. They only encounter his wife. As you can probably guess, it turns out that the “Kuzunoha” Yasuna spent the past half a decade with is in fact the fox he saved from Akuemon. When this comes to light, she bids farewell to her son, and tells him to treat the real Kuzunoha as his mother instead from now on. 

When Yasuna returns, and learns what happened from the real Kuzunoha, he decides that they need to find the fox Kuzunoha. His son and the real Kuzunoha decide to assist him. Like in every other version involving a search, they eventually manage to find the fox Kuzunoha in the Shinoda forest. She shows herself to them in her true form, that of a century old white fox, and reveals that while she has cast away her earthly attachments, she plans to nonetheless still protect her son. However, to that end she had to cast away her human disguise anyway, as a fox who falls in love with a human will eventually lose all supernatural abilities otherwise. This idea is an invention of the author (had this been an established motif earlier, Tamamizu Monogatari’s namesake protagonist would have no inner dilemmas to struggle with, arguably).

After this matter is settled, the protagonists encounter Dōman. Since they are not aware of his recent deeds, they initially assume that his visit is part of some new scheme. They also accuse him of engineering the theft of Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. However, he explains that he was a tool in an evil plot before, but had a change of heart. He admits the theft accusation is not unfounded, but also that he is not responsible for Sakaki no Mae’s suicide. To atone for his past deeds, he gives the book to Yasuna. However, he says that he is too old to use it, and Dōman should instead pass it on to his son (this is probably another intentional subversion - as you’ll see later, in another story Dōman crafts an elaborate scheme to steal this book from Seimei). When the kid receives the book, he is instantly able to interpret its title. He explains that it refers to a rabbit who lives on the moon and a crow who lives in the sun, and that the book contains knowledge necessary to understand everything on earth and in heaven. Dōman praises Yasuna for teaching his son well, but he clarifies that the boy must have inherited the talent of his biological mother, who was a white fox.

Dōman is aware of a case of a supernaturally gifted kid born to a human-fox couple in China (I’m not sure if this references a specific story, also note this is not an universal motif - in at least one Tang period tale children from a similar relationship die prematurely), and therefore to verify Yasuna's claim decides to test his son’s skills. The boy effortlessly answers all of his questions. Dōman is so impressed he bestows the name Seimei upon him - he was simply referred to as Dōji (童子, “boy” - not exactly a creative name) before. To celebrate, Yasuna and Dōman decide to visit the Shinoda shrine, leaving Kuzunoha and Seimei behind.

Nakamura Utaemon III as Yakanbei, Sawamura Kunitarō II as Kuzunoha, and Arashi Rikan II as Yokanbei (Museum of Fine Arts Boston; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Since things are evidently going too well, Akuemon suddenly appears once again, accompanied by a group of thugs. He confronts the protagonists and tries to kidnap the real Kuzunoha, but his plan is foiled by the intervention of Yokanbei and an associate of fox Kuzunoha, another white fox, who turns into a copy of him. He calls himself Yakanbei (野干平) - a pun on Yokanbei’s name and the term yakan (射干; from Chinese yegan), which could refer either to a fox-like legendary animal, a jackal, or simply a fox. The scene is intentionally comedic, and it actually takes Yokanbei a while to realize there’s a copy of him running around. In some stage adaptations the sequence was extended further with the appearance of a female servant who is yet another fox in disguise. 

After the successful rescue yet another timeskip happens. The final act shows Seimei at the age of eight. His parents decide to finally take him to Kyoto. He is already renowned for his skill, and the crown prince mentioned in passing earlier wants to meet him. However, after arriving in the capital Yasuna temporarily leaves his family, and through an unlucky twist of fate ends up killed by Akuemon, who is busy with a new scheme to curse Rokunokimi. Thankfully, when he later arrives in the court, carrying a crate which contains both a doll meant to be utilized to that end and Yasuna’s corpse, the plot is revealed through a joint effort of Seimei and Dōman. Seimei then resurrects his father, while Akuemon is executed… and that’s where the story ends (with no foxes in sight).

In the end, it might appear at first glance the play regarded as the most famous take on Kuzunoha doesn’t contain all that much Kuzunoha - not the fox Kuzunoha, at least. It’s really a play about Dōman and Yasuna in the end. Kuzunoha actually comes across as sort of expandable and forgettable in dry summaries of the play, and I don’t think mine really gives a different impression. To be fair, it’s actually a genuine theory that the apparent disposability of female characters in this case served as a criticism of the low position of women in Tokugawa society.

Regardless of whether this is true or not, it was ultimately Kuzunoha, and not Dōman, who made the play famous - and that’s why, as I briefly mentioned earlier, it’s uncommon to see the whole play on stage. It’s typically reduced just to act IV - which does actually revolve around Kuzunoha (or, to be more precise, Kuzunohas). There are two reasons behind that.

For starters, the scene of a mother parting with her child emotionally resonated with Edo period audiences to a greater degree than anything else Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami had to offer. Sure, it might be short, especially compared to the lengthy sections dealing with multi-layered courtly intrigues - but it had something they lacked: it was relatable. Making sure plays resonate with audiences, which consisted largely of commoners - often commoners who represented relatively historically recent social strata molded by changes in economy in the Edo period at that - was a common concern of playwrights. While many dealt with the distant past - especially the Heian period and the tumultuous transition into the middle ages - conscious effort was often made to incorporate contemporary elements, or to emphasize down to earth concerns, precisely to that end. The results weren’t always successful, and in some cases end up heavenly-handed and unintentionally comedic, but Takeda Izumo II evidently pulled it off. It worked so well that the rest of the play became basically unnecessary.

Furthermore, whether adapted in the form of a puppet play (as originally intended) or kabuki, the role of Kuzunoha was considered suitable for showcasing the skills of performers. Special effects, and in particular transformations from one character into another, were incredibly popular - that’s why so many plays from the Edo period have plots involving shapeshifters, doubles, mistaken identity or a combination of some or all of those elements. Foxes naturally provide a great venue for that - and Kuzunoha isn’t even the only time Takeda Izumo II capitalized on it (you will likely get to see another famous example on this blog in a few months).

Kuzunoha writing her parting poem with a brush held in her teeth (wikimedia commons)

When it comes to puppet plays, the greatest accomplishment of Kuzunoha was arguably facilitating the invention of a complex type of puppet requiring three people to operate, utilized for the first time in the scene involving her, Yokanbei and Yakanbei. In kabuki adaptations, Kuzunoha’s shapeshifting between human and fox forms is reflected by rapid change of costumes - basically the default way to measure an actor’s skill. Sometimes this is boosted further by speech quirks also used for other fox characters in kabuki. Furthermore, the actor playing her is often expected to write the poem she leaves before abandoning her family holding a brush in his (it’s an onnagata role, ie. a female character played by a man) teeth, cradling a prop representing infant not-yet-Seimei in both hands. A Meiji innovation making the role even more challenging was to have one actor play both Kuzunohas - which, naturally, required even faster costume changes. In some cases, a hat with a fox mask hidden in it is used to make it particularly rapid. Through this combination of factors, Kuzunoha, initially a minor addition to a corpus of legends about a popular protagonist which grew so large it started to absorb unrelated stories, eventually actually managed to outshine Seimei himself. Of course, it wasn’t that straightforward; Seimei’s disappearance from public consciousness didn’t just boil down to a specific kabuki attaining unexpected levels of renown. It’s also important to bear in mind that onmyōdō as a whole largely vanished from public consciousness after the Meiji reforms - and that even before them, the term didn’t necessarily invoke the image of a Heian period court official anymore (see my previous article dealing with relevant matters for more context). Even though Seimei, an at least vaguely Heian-inspired idea of onmyōdō, and the traditional villainous Dōman all made a comeback after the classic sources were “rediscovered” by new authors starting with the 1980s, Kuzunoha remains a fairly major component of what I earlier described as an “informal Seimei canon” - to the point it’s probably not hard to find people convinced she was a part of it from the very beginning. In that capacity she is a remarkable outlier. Most of the other Edo innovations are now forgotten, and Konjaku Monogatari and other early collections once again define Seimei just as they did for late Heian and early medieval audiences. And yet, the story of the most famous onmyōji being born as the son of a fox and subsequently abandoned evidently continues to resonate with new audiences.

Nothing like Kuzunoha: an excursus about the real daughter of Kamo no Yasunori

There’s an argument to be made that Seimei isn’t the only historical figure who ended up existing in the shadow of Kuzunoha, or more broadly of Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami. While Kuzunoha and Sakaki no Mae are both fictional characters, the historical Kamo no Yasunori actually did have at least one daughter. It’s safe to say she didn’t influence the creation of any of her fictional “siblings”, though. For all intents and purposes, she went down in history only as Kamo no Yasunori no Musume (賀茂保憲女), “the daughter of Kamo no Yasunori” - her real name is unknown. I personally think that in absence of any information about her name perhaps it would be preferable to use the epithet she used to refer to herself - Kamo uji naru musume, “a woman of the Kamo clan” - but I am not going to tell you to ignore the consensus, obviously. Since referring to her as “Kamo no Yasunori no musume” would get a bit cumbersome quickly, I hope you don’t mind here I will simply refer to her as “ms. Kamo”, though.

The sum of our knowledge about ms. Kamo’s life and career comes from just a single source - but what a source it is! At some point between 993 or 998, at the age of forty or so, she compiled her own poetry collection, today referred to simply as Kamo no Yasunori no Musume no shū (賀茂保憲女集) - “Kamo no Yasunori no Musume’s poetry collection” (hardly the most creative of titles). The uncertain dating reflects the fact that the only clear evidence in the work itself are references to an illness she at some point contracted, which might have been either smallpox (an epidemic occurred in 993) or measles (an epidemic occurred in 998). A lot is up to interpretation, though the illness at least for a time negatively impacted her eyesight, which seems to point at the second option.

The collection resulting from her efforts has the form of a sequence of around 240 poems accompanied by an autobiographical prose preface. This is not unusual in itself - similar collections consisting from a hundred to three hundred poems were fairly common in the later centuries of the Heian period. They were pioneered by Sone no Yoshitada around 960 or so. Depending on the exact dating of ms. Kamo’s sequence, she was either the first or second woman to contribute to this trend, though. Her contemporary Minamoto no Shigeyuki no Musume (源重之女; as you can probably guess, the daughter of Minamoto no Shigeyuki) compiled a hundred poems long sequence around 994.

While common, the hundred (or more) poem sequences were what can be described as an example of avant garde or outsider approach to poetry. In the Heian period most poems were composed during official competitions or for commemorative purposes in the imperial court. In contrast, the long sequences were typically the work of people who didn’t have opportunities to partake in official poetic events, for example lower ranking bureaucrats. Furthermore, the topics were more personal. It was fairly common to complain about unrecognized skills and slow progression in the chosen path of career, for example. This was an universe many lower ranked courtiers, as well as provincial bureaucrats, were familiar with - the Heian court was dominated by the powerful Fujiwara clan, and few people who didn’t belong to it managed to advance to the most prestigious positions (and those who did, like Sugawa no Michizane, could still end up exiled or worse as potential threats to the Fujiwa hegemony). However, in contrast with ultimately fairly formulaic complaints about stalled professional careers, ms. Kamo’s collection is essentially an outlier among outliers. It has an even more distinctly personal character. Of course, part of it is that the experience of a woman was fundamentally different from that of a male courtier. Ms. Kamo had to become a unique author in part simply because she had no models to pattern her poems on. She acknowledged herself that it was viewed as preferable for a woman to remain silent and unseen.

The life ms. Kamo wanted to document was sad and lonely - as she remarked to herself, “there is no one whose circumstances are as unhappy as mine within these islands”. The catalyst for writing was the life-threatening illness she survived, but which pretty clearly took a heavy mental toll on her. In a self-depreciating passage she described herself as "inferior in all ways to others, but better than others in getting an illness". On top of that, she felt isolated and was apparently concerned that she has failed to attain proper maturity, possibly due to remaining single - she only makes vague references to a possible failed past relationship. She apparently blamed her parents, and in one of her poems compared herself to an egg that has already putrefied before even hatching.

While I don’t necessarily think it’s incorrect to speculate that she might have felt this way due to failing to enter a relationship or forming a lasting one, it does seem that she was generally concerned about her life being stagnant, and about being confined in the same place for its entire duration. In some of her poems, she is saddened by own inability to see various wondrous phenomena and partaking in assorted pastimes (she admits she’s not even sure what was in the vogue among other noblewomen). Interestingly, she recognized that her position gives her a degree of freedom she would lack if her poetry conformed to courtly standards, though.

A further peculiar aspect of ms. Kamo’s work is her focus on social inequalities. She devotes some space to explaining why she doesn’t see class as an indication of merit. As she outlines, a virtuous and talented person might nonetheless have an unremarkable career and fail to move up. Furthermore, a humble person won’t necessarily be valued as much as they should. It was apparently a major concern for her overall that success is determined by wealth and family connections more than skill and virtue. That’s tragically a pretty timeless issue.

Some degree of opposition to the prevailing model of stratification of society was not entirely unheard of in the Heian period. Miyako no Yoshika’s uncle Miyako no Haraaka (都腹赤) famously believed that what we would by modern standards define as higher education should be available to all as opposed to hereditary nobility, for example. This was doubtlessly influenced by his own experience - his family background was unremarkable, and he managed to attain a degree of renown only thanks to a then-recent system of civil service examinations. His nephew, whose life followed a similar trajectory, purportedly opposed the encroachment of the Fujiwara clan upon educational institutions because it would limit the already not particularly plentiful opportunities people from more humbled backgrounds had. Ultimately the Chinese-style bureaucratic apparatus which enabled that collapsed, though, and even before that it obviously never managed to become the great equalizer people like Haraaka seemingly wanted it to be (it didn’t even accomplish that in China in the first place, to be fair).

Yoshishige no Yasutane (wikimedia commons) Most importantly, social inequalities are addressed in depth in the Chiteiki (池亭記), the magnum of opus of ms. Kamo’s uncle Yoshishige no Yasutane (慶滋保胤). He might have been an influence on the worldview of his niece, though unlike him she didn’t see the lack of adherence to Confucian teachings as the source of all ills. As a social critic she is ultimately without an exact parallel among her contemporaries. As cliche as that might sound, it would perhaps be most apt to say she was ahead of her times. Rather unusually for her era, she even believed romantic relationships should not be determined by social class, but rather by genuine feelings. She attributed the instability of romances among courtiers to this, even. I will refrain from speculation if this might have anything to do with the references to her own possible failed relationship.

Given the avant garde character of ms. Kamo’s works, it probably comes as no surprise to you to learn that they never had a wide circulation. She did hope for an audience - in the preface she even speculates how people in the future will imagine her based on the content of her poems. However, she never really found it.

Evidently someone had to be aware of her pursuits and kept her up to date with new trends in poetry, though. A possible candidate is, once again, her uncle Yasutane. Furthermore, some of her notes indicate she seemingly was sending at least some of her poems to someone, though whoever that was, they evidently didn’t opt to recommend her as a participant in any events focused on poetry held in the imperial court (or didn’t hold a position which would let them do so). Her poetry thus failed to captivate any larger audience, and didn’t enter the literary canon.

The only pre-modern exceptions are the inclusion of a small handful of her poems in the Shūi Wakashū (拾遺和歌集, “Collection of Gleanings”; 1006; 1 poem), Shin Kokin Wakashū (新古今和歌集, “New Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems”; 1205; 1 poem), Fūga Wakashū (風雅和歌集; “Collection of Elegant Poems”; 1348; 2 poems) and Shinshokukokin Wakashū (新続古今和歌集; “New Later Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems”; 1439; 1 poem). However, in the first two of these anthologies the author is left anonymous, presumably since she was not exactly famous and lived outside the imperial court. In the other two she is identified only as Kamo no Yasunori no musume. 

Something that bugs me a lot is that there are multiple weird unsourced claims on English wikipedia severely overestimating the esteem she enjoyed in the Heian period and beyond. Kamo no Yasunori’s entry calls her an “acclaimed poet” (and similarly without a source asserts she was his second daughter; in reality she is his only female relative we know about). Her own article asserts she was renowned for her talent, despite later citing a researcher who correctly points out she was largely overlooked through history.

I would argue that in addition to being incorrect, these bizarre descriptions are disrespectful, seeing as much of her work is centered on frustrations stemming from not only not being perceived as important, but lacking any venue giving the slightest glimmer of hope for attaining that. I’m not exactly sure if the intent was to be feminist, but I personally think it would in fact be a more feminist approach to stress what motivated her to write, and to honestly report the lack of pre-modern reception. These factors are what makes ms. Kamo unique as a poet.

Sadly even the modern reception of ms. Kamo’s work is limited at best, which is part of why I decided to include her in this article. There are at least two annotated editions of her works aimed at academics in Japanese and a handful of articles, including a single one in English which you can find in the bibliography, but not much beyond that. Ultimately it is probably fair to say her fictional counterparts sadly outshine her, which arguably adds an extra layer to this tragedy. Obviously, Edo period playwrights weren’t deliberately trying to do so - odds are decent they weren’t even aware she existed - but it saddens me a bit that no attempt was made to find room for her in any modern adaptations of stories involving fictionalized portrayals of her father. An argument can even be made that ms. Kamo had some familiarity with onmyōdō. While it is not a major theme in her poetry, and she never referenced yin, yang and related concepts directly, she was evidently familiar with Chinese literature and philosophy to some degree. She references the Book of Changes and the well known (at the time, at least) story of Su Wu, for instance. It might also be worth noting that she was aware it was believed certain ascetic practices can extend the lifespan - for example consuming pine needles. It’s actually fairly likely that some of her familiarity with Chinese literature came from overhearing her brothers’ lessons - we actually know this must have been the case for some women in the Heian period. For instance, Murasaki Shikibu de facto received informal education this way. There’s even a proposal in scholarship which has gained some support that part of ms. Kamo’s bitterness might have come from perceiving herself as equally capable of learning as her brothers, but never really receiving opportunities to prove it.

Beyond Kuzunoha: other figures of note in Seimei narratives

After the largely historical excursus, let’s go back to fiction. As I mentioned earlier, many once popular recurring characters from stories about Seimei - from early legends to Edo period novels - largely languish in obscurity today, even though Seimei himself arguably regained his prominence. I figured it is only fair to discuss some examples I consider particularly interesting as well.

Rika

While Abe no Seimei Monogatari is notable for being one of the earliest works which feature (a prototype of) Kuzunoha, it also provides Seimei with a further fictional female relative, a wife named Rika (梨花). And she is, quite unexpectedly, an antagonist who aids Dōman.

The historical Seimei presumably did have a family, but as far as I am aware no source mentions anything about the identity of his spouse. He definitely had children, most notably Abe no Yoshihira (安倍吉平; 954–1026), which does indicate the existence of a ms. Abe (or at least a mistress whose child was legitimized, I suppose). I won’t dwell much Yoshihira here, as he is largely irrelevant for the matters this article focuses on, though it’s worth noting that he famously managed to enact an onmyōdō takeover of hanshi (反支; from Chinese fanzhi), formerly handled by court physicians. This procedure was supposed to determine if anything inauspicious might happen during the birth of a child.

I’m only aware of a single source predating Abe no Seimei Monogatari which would mention Seimei’s wife at all, and it is similarly a literary text rather than a historical document. However, she is left nameless in it, and her characterization differs considerably. Rather unexpectedly, it’s not strictly speaking a Seimei story, but rather the fourteenth century Genpei Jōsuiki - an extended version of the Heike Monogatari. In the passage in mention Taira no Tokiko performs hashiura (橋占), an unusual form of divination. Instead of the movement of celestial bodies, it required listening to the conversations of passersby on a bridge. She chooses the Ichijō-modoribashi (一条戻 橋) in Kyoto, where she encounters a group of twelve unusual children, who all repeat the same prophecy. She quickly realizes they’re actually shikigami, and not just any shikigami at that, but rather manifestations of the Twelve Heavenly Generals (十二神, jūnishin).

Why are the Twelve Heavenly Generals there, instead of performing the Medicine Buddha and engaging in other typical Heavenly General pursuits? That’s where Seimei’s wife comes in. It is revealed that Seimei sealed the Generals under the bridge because his wife was capable of seeing supernatural beings, including them, just like he was, but was afraid of them. As a result of Seimei’s ritual, hashiura performed there was guaranteed to result in receiving prophetic messages from the Twelve Heavenly Generals, even if they used passersby to convey it. The reference to supernatural powers is certainly interesting - in other literary texts a similar ability is enough for the protagonist to be granted the right to study onmyōdō (a good example is a Konjaku Monogatari story about Kamo no Yasunori’s childhood) - but the topic is not explored further.

Ichijō-modoribashi in 2005, with the shikigami statue on the left (wikimedia commons)

It’s worth noting that the story seemingly had a degree of influence on the surroundings of Ichijō-modoribashi bridge. Today there’s a statue of a shikigami next to it. However, he’s not one of the Twelve Heavenly Generals, but rather an anonymous critter who appears in medieval portraits of Seimei as his personal shikigami. Compare the two depictions below, courtesy of wikimedia commons:

As for Abe no Seimei Monogatari, as thrilling as the summary of Rika’s character sounds, she sadly receives very little spotlight. We don’t learn how she met Seimei, where she came from, or the circumstances of their marriage. No information from the Genpei Jōsuiki episode is referenced, either, and I think it’s safe to say the two takes on Seimei’s wife are independent from each other - though it’s not hard to find people treating them as the same character online. To be fair, it’s not like these sources are impossible to reconcile with each other.

Rika and Seimei are already married when she is mentioned for the first time, when Seimei leaves to China to study under Hakudō Shōnin. In his absence Dōman, who after losing a bet had to become his disciple earlier, conspires with Rika (to be fair, Seimei for whatever reason entrusted him with taking care of her in his absence). His goal is to gain insight into two books Seimei owns: the Kin’u Gyokuto Shū, written by Hakudō Shōnin, and the Hoki Naiden, brought to Japan by Kibi no Makibi. She shows him a box in which Seimei keeps them. He wastes no time and after figuring out how to open it studies both books and copies them.

When Seimei returns, Dōman offers him a wager. He claims that the books were revealed to him in a dream by the bodhisattva Monju, and suggests that he can prove it. Seimei, who does not believe in dream visions, and remains blissfully unaware of Rika’s actions in his absence, agrees, and says that Dōman can kill him if he really does have the books - that’s how implausible this scenario is to him. To his shock, his rival-turned-apprentice reveals the copies he prepared, and in accordance with their agreement kills him. Dōman then gets rid of everyone else in Seimei’s household by turning them into pieces of straw and wood - the only exception is Rika. The two become a couple; the narrator notes this is something he has desired for a long while already, though as far as I can tell the novel doesn’t mention it at any earlier point. We don’t really learn anything about Rika’s views on the matter, sadly.

Dōman’s triumph is short-lived. Through an omen, Hakudō Shōnin learns that Seimei has died and arrives in Japan to resurrect him and let him avenge his death. He visits Dōman and, in a mirror of the trick he played on Seimei earlier, gets him to agree that he should be killed if it turns out Seimei is alive. Seimei, alive and well thanks to Hakudō Shōnin’s magical abilities, promptly appears to complete this wager. Rika attempts to hide behind a curtain to avoid a similar fate, but this proves to be unsuccessful. While she doesn’t make a similar bargain with Hakudō Shōnin, the narrator states that this is ultimately a just outcome. Both conspirators are then buried near the bank of the Gojō River, and that’s basically it for their role in the story. Neither portrayal of Seimei’s wife gained much notoriety in later works. I would assume the fact that through the Edo period ultimately it was the story of his parents that captivated the audience was a factor (it would be hard to explore his own relationships if most new stories had him as a 5-year-old), but this is entirely speculative.

As for modern authors: Yumemakura Baku, whose novels about Seimei contributed towards the development of the “onmyōdō boom” in popculture, acknowledged in an interview that the historical Seimei presumably did have a wife, but said he has no plans to explore this topic.

Makuzu (bottom left) from Okano's adaptation of Yumemakura's novels (MELODY; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

This being said, the manga adaptation of his works by Okano Reiko apparently did introduce a character loosely based on her Genpei Jōsuiki portrayal named Makuzu (真葛). The reception of this addition appears to be mixed, but as I haven't read this series I won’t pass judgment. This being said, if the Makuzu subplot really does involve Seimei learning they’re the reincarnation of a pharaoh and his wife out of blue, let’s just say I think I’d rather stick to Yumemakura’s prose version.

I was also able to find a single modern work which actually features Rika: Onmyōji Abe no Seimei - Saishū Kessen (陰陽師 安倍晴明ー最終決戦; “Onmyōji Abe no Seimei - Final Battle”) a very loose stage play adaptation of Abe no Seimei Monogatari by the troupe Gesshoku Kageki Dan (月蝕華撃團). A recording from 2021 can be found on their youtube channel:

Additionally there are numerous photos of the costumes on their social media (a selection of my favorites: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5). Parts of the plot seem… very avant garde compared to the original, but I do like the actress portraying Seimei, Shiranaga Ayumi  (白永歩美), a lot. Note that Seimei isn’t supposed to be a woman here, though (this remains an idea largely exclusive to Fromsoft’s Kuon); this troupe’s performances pretty commonly involve actresses playing male roles, as I understand. Whether intentional or not, in this case it ends up as a neat parallel to men traditionally playing Kuzunoha in the Edo period and beyond.

Hakudō Shōnin

An illustration of Hakudō Shōnin from the Abe no Seimei Monogatari 

Given that I already brought up Hakudō Shōnin (伯道上人; sometimes translated as “Saint Hakudō”) multiple times, I don’t think it’s particularly shocking that I consider him another character who warrants more spotlight. At least one Edo period source, Jinrin Kinmō Zui (人倫訓蒙図彙; “Illustrated Dictionary of Different Kinds of People”) from 1690, seems to treat him as a historical figure. The entry on diviners (占師, uranaishi) states that Kamo no Yasunori brought Chinese divination methods originally invented by Fuxi to Japan, but also that Abe no Seimei was taught them by Hakudō Shōnin.  In reality, not only is Hakudō entirely fictitious, he didn’t even originate in China. In theory his name would be Bodao Shangren in Chinese - but no Chinese source actually mentions him. He is essentially a representation of the Japanese idea of what a Chinese Buddhist sage slash Daoist immortal (he is described as both simultaneously) would be like. In art he is seemingly generally portrayed in the garb of a monk. I’ve seen a single more unique depiction recently, but I was unable to verify its provenance:

It’s fair to say that in literature Hakudō Shōnin is portrayed as part ascetic, part onmyōji. This might seem unusual - after all, the historical Heian period onmyōji were essentially government officials not too different from other mid-level courtiers. However, Hakudō’s portrayal is not particularly outlandish - it reflects ideas about is onmyōji widespread in medieval sources. The fact that divinatory techniques associated with onmyōdō were often transmitted by shugenja - mountain ascetics - in this period is doubtlessly related, but I won’t pursue this point further here. 

As far as literature goes, the merging of onmyōdō and asceticism is evident in legends about the legendary sage Hōdō Shōnin (法道上人, Sanskrit Dharmamārga) or the historical Tendai monk Jōzō (浄蔵). In the Kojidan (古事談), compiled by Minamoto no Akikane (源顕兼) around 1212-1215, even Seimei himself is described as a hermit who gained mastery of onmyōdō by leading an ascetic life in in Kumano (a particularly favored location for such activities) for a thousand days.

Given that this image of Seimei doesn’t really reemerge in later sources, I’m admittedly curious if perhaps Hakudō wasn’t created to offer an indirect way to incorporate it into broader informal “Seimei canon” - so that instead of Seimei gaining knowledge through asceticism, he instead acquired it from an ascetic? This is entirely speculative on my part, though. Note that there might very well be older sources mentioning Hakudō than those I am aware of, which depending on date could instantly sink this proposal.

Stories involving Hakudō were already in circulation in the fourteenth century. An early example appears in the preface to Hoki Naiden. It describes him as a disciple of the bodhisattva Monju who after attaining enlightenment received the scroll Monju Sesshū Butsurekikyō (“Sutra of Buddha Calendar Assembled by Monju”) from him. He then brought it with him to China, where he came up with a new title for it, Hoki Naiden Kin’u Gyokuto Shū . Many years later Seimei learned about it from him, and made it the to-go point of reference for fellow onmyōji in Japan under its full title. It should be noted here that another tradition had Seimei himself as the author, though. In reality it was most likely only composed in the fourteenth century by a hitherto unidentified descendant of the historical Seimei (or at least someone who saw association with him as a source of own credibility), though.

The Hoki Naiden preface also states that Hakudō arrived in Japan after Seimei’s death to resurrect him. To that end he collected all his bones - “12 big bones and 360 small bones altogether” - and performed a special ritual. Noriko T. Reider notes that this passage resembles a number of legends involving a historical figure either trying to create a new living being out of bones or other body parts (Minamoto no Morofusa and Saigyō in two separate tales from the Senjūshō), or encountering a person created this way (Ki no Haseo in Haseo Zōshi). The difference is obviously that Hakudō brings a specific dead person to life instead of creating a new living being, and that the deed is portrayed firmly positively. Still, given that all of these stories have been composed roughly in the same time period, it does seem fair to say we’re dealing with different takes on the same motif.

It’s worth noting that while Hakudō Shōnin is essentially absent from modern Seimei media - presumably since Seimei is, true to historical sources, usually portrayed as a disciple of Kamo no Yasunori (or, alternatively, his father Kamo no Tadayuki) - in the middle ages he was famous enough to even be referenced in at least one variant of one the most famous medieval Japanese works possible, namely in the Ōeyama Ekotoba (大江山絵詞), a Muromachi period illustrated version of the Shuten Dōji legend. It puts a peculiar twist on the connection between him and Seimei, though. It is revealed that instead of being a disciple and a master, respectively, they are two incarnations of Ryūju Bosatsu (龍樹菩薩) - the bodhisattva form of the early Buddhist philosopher Nāgārjuna, venerated in Japan by the Shingon school. 

Hakudō encountering the bodhisattva Monju Both of the Hoki Naiden legends mentioned above were incorporated into Abe no Seimei Monogatari. An entire section of this novel is additionally dedicated to Hakudō’s early career and the origin of the Hoki Naiden. It states he was born during the reign of the Zhou dynasty (so he’s over a thousand years old - possibly nearly two thousand years old - by the time he meets Seimei), and that he initially lived in Jingshan. He tried to master yin, yang, earth and haven, but failed to do so. This prompted him to go on a journey, during which he encountered a supernatural youth - an incarnation of the bodhisattva Monju -  who informed him that his approach was wrong. He let Hakudō become his disciple on Mt. Wutai (however, in the Hoki-shō his studies take place in India instead). 

Under Monju’s guidance Hakudō managed to learn all of the mysteries he wanted to know, becoming a master of divination in the process. He also attained the rank of an arhat. He later returned to Jingshan, where he compiled the teachings of the bodhisattva revealed to him in 160 volumes.

Donfang Shuo (wikimedia commons)

Through the following centuries, Hakudō secretly revealed small snippets to various rulers and sages, including Jiang Ziya, Fan Li, Zhang Liang, Kong Anguo and Heshang Gong. The scrolls were eventually gifted to emperor Wu of Han, whose courtier Donfang Shuo (a veritable Han dynasty reneissance man) managed to become a great sage just by studying them (remember this detail, it will be relevant later).

As you can probably tell, the passage dealing with Seimei’s resurrection inspired the section of the story involving Rika, which I already summarized above.

Hōdō Shōnin in Abe no Seimei Monogatari As a side note, it’s worth pointing out that Abe no Seimei Monogatari also features Hōdō Shōnin in a small capacity. Somewhat confusingly, he is described both as a Daoist immortal and as a monk from India. Dōman claims to be his disciple to make himself appear greater than in reality, but in reality he merely inherited a book written by ancestor Ashiya no Suguri Kiyofuto (藍屋村主清太; as far as I know, a character invented for this novel), who encountered Hōdō Shōnin around 300 years prior to the events of the story. While this sounds like setting up further intentional parallels between him and Seimei, as far as I can tell it’s not implied that Hōdō and Hakudō were rivals, and the former otherwise appears chiefly in legends unrelated to Seimei - most commonly ones dealing with the foundation of Buddhist temples. It also needs to be noted that since this is a work following the traditional negative portrayal of Dōman, the narrator makes it clear that despite claiming to be Hōdō’s disciple and even dressing up like a monk (a possible allusion to the term for unofficial onmyōji I’ve already discussed, I assume?) he was impious and even committed unspecified crimes. Hakudō Shōnin also makes an appearance in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō. In this play Seimei meets him when he is ten years old. Hakudō gives him the Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. It is also revealed that in the past he met Seimei’s ancestor Abe no Nakamaro when the latter acted as an envoy in China. His resurrection ritual is also referenced: when in the final act of the play Dōman’s subordinates kill Seimei’s father Yasuna, he has to be resurrected using Hakudō Shōnin’s bone-gathering method. While as I already summarized earlier Yasuna’s final fate is quite similar in Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami, no reference is made to any Chinese sages - it’s just one of the many abilities young Seimei has already mastered.

Kibi no Makibi (and Abe no Nakamaro)

An Edo period portrait of Kibi no Makibi (wikimedia commons)

Unlike Rika, who you can at best call semi-historical (in that the real Seimei probably did have a wife) and Hakudō Shōnin, who is entirely fictitious, the final figure I’d like to introduce you to in this article, Kibi no Makibi (吉備真備; 695-775), was a real person. His accomplishments and postmortem career as a literary character would honestly be enough for a separate article - here I will only limit myself to a small handful of sources due to space constraints. Makibi famously traveled to China twice, first as a student and then as an ambassador, and between these two journeys spent around 20 years (around one fourth of his life!) on the mainland. He was considered unusually erudite, and was one of the foremost Japanese scholars of his era. Due to his renown he also held a number of prominent positions in the court, including the incredibly prestigious role of minister of the right (右大臣, udaijin); the only other scholar to ever attain this rank was Sugawara no Michizane.

Next to Seimei and Kamo no Yasunori, Makibi is also probably one of the most famous onmyōji in history - which is quite a feat given that he actually had next to nothing to do with onmyōdō in life. Early sources, such as Shoku Nihongi (797) and Miyoshi no Kiyoyuki’s (三善清行; 847-919) Iken Fūji Jūni Kajō (意見封事十二箇条, “Statement of Opinion on Twelve Matters”) agree that he was unusually skilled, and that in China he mastered many arts, including but not limited to Confucian classics, history, arithmetic, music, poetry, and calligraphy, but they don’t link him with onmyōdō at all.

It’s hard to tell when and why the shift in the perception of Makibi’s knowledge occurred, but he is already described as not just an onmyōji, but the founder of onmyōdō in Fujiwara no Akihira’s (藤原明衡; 989-1066) Shin Sarugōki (新猿楽記, “Account of the New Monkey Music”). Another example can be found in the Konjaku Monogatari, where Makibi is portrayed using his onmyōdō skills to pacify the vengeful spirit of Fujiwara no Hirotsugu. By the twelfth century, regarding Makibi as an onmyōji was common. This is evident in the works most relevant to this article, namely fictionalized accounts of his journey to China. The oldest of them, Kibi Nittō no Kan no Koto (吉備入唐の間の事, “Kibi’s Adventures in China”), is preserved in Ōe no Masafusa’s Gōdanshō (江談抄). A more vague account can be found in the Fusō Ryakki (扶桑略記, "Brief History of Fusang"), though it is likely a derivative of the Gōdanshō one.

Makibi (in black robes) and Chinese officials (all images from this scroll have been taken from the website of the Museum of Fine Arts Boston; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Masafusa’s account of the journey also inspired the illustrated scroll Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki (吉備大臣入唐絵巻, “Illustrated Adventures of Minister Kibi in China“), which was most likely commissioned by emperor Go-Shirakawa between the late 1170 and early 1180s. Like other similar contemporary works, Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki has very little to do with historical reality. It relays that after arriving in China, Makibi was imprisoned by local officials, who feared that due to being exceptionally skilled he would make them look inept in comparison. To regain his freedom he had to overcome a series of trials.

Distinctly oni-like vengeful Nakamaro

Makibi's only ally is the vengeful spirit of Abe no Nakamaro (阿倍仲麻呂; 698-770). He is described as the previous ambassador. After a similar ordeal he died in captivity.

In reality, Nakamaro traveled to China alongside Makibi in 716. However, he was not an envoy, but merely a student who was allowed to join an official delegation. What is true is that he never returned to Japan. This was not the result of any nefarious plot, let alone premature death, though. He successfully completed the Chinese civil service exam and became an official. He did try to return to Japan in 735, but a storm left him shipwrecked at the coast of Annam (a part of modern Vietnam which at the time was a Chinese protectorate), and he opted to return to his career. He also attained some renown as a poet, and was on friendly terms with the poetic superstars of his times, Li Bai and Wang Wei. All around his real life was most likely happier than the story would indicate - though based on his surviving poetry it is safe to assume he did feel homesick in some capacity.

Nakamaro longing for home in Abe no Seimei Monogatari

Obviously, Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki is a particularly extreme example of reinterpretation of Nakamaro’s life in literature postdating him. However, portrayals focused on his longing for a return home are quite common, and appear as early as in the Tosa Nikki (土佐日記, “Tosa Diary”) by Ki no Tsurayuki, completed around 935. It should be noted that by the tenth century or so, even venturing beyond the capital was commonly described as a daunting task, and dying in exile was one of the greatest fears for courtiers. Based on these developments, it can also be argued that the fictionalized portrayal of Nakamaro is an example of a phenomenon derived from these fears - the belief that people who died far away from home would return as vengeful ghosts. He could thus be considered a peer of the likes of Sugawara no Michizane or prince Sawara. The possibility that someone would move to a far off land voluntarily, and die there peacefully of natural causes, would probably be hard to grasp for late Heian audiences. 

Pacified Nakamaro (right) talking to Makibi (left)

Anyway, back to the story. Makibi’s captors are actually convinced that Nakamaro, who became a vengeful spirit and haunts the tower where the new envoy ends up imprisoned, will kill him. However, even though Nakamaro appears to Makibi in a fierce oni-like form, he ends up pacified through what might be an unusual ritual. Makibi informs him that he is in the presence of an official envoy, and as such needs to take a suitable form. This evidently works - through the rest of the scroll Nakamaro, now a staunch ally of Makibi, is depicted in the attire of a Japanese official, just with an unconventional distinctly orange skin tone. Makibi also learns that Nakamaro is concerned about his relatives, and reassures him that his entire clan is doing well.

Makibi and Nakamaro flying After surviving the encounter with Nakamaro, Makibi is informed that his trials are set to begin. The first of them involves learning the Wen Xuan (文選, “Selections of Refined Literature”). He is not familiar with this anthology, but using a secret art enabling him to fly he manages to secretly reach the imperial palace to listen to scholars reading it. In the illustrated version he masters flight himself, which is presumably meant to show he is in full control of the situation, and there is no genuine threat in his temporary captivity. However, in Masafusa’s forerunner it is Nakamaro who can fly, and Makibi relies on his help. Either way, the aerial journey is successful, and when a Chinese official appears to question Makibi, he reveals a copy of Wen Xuan he prepared in secret based on what he heard, thus completing the first challenge.

Makibi playing go The next day, Makibi is set to face a master of go. This might seem random, but playing it was a fairly standard part of diplomatic visits, and in fact in at least some cases envoys were selected based on their go skills. Makibi is unfamiliar with it, though, and has to learn the rules from Nakamaro. He quickly comes up with an ingenious, if unconventional, strategy. Initially neither side gains an advantage, but eventually Makibi notices an opportunity to use his secret gambit arises He swallows one of his opponent’s pieces, which lets him attain victory. A diviner informs the Chinese officials about this, and they tell Makibi to take a purgative to prove he was cheating, but he manages to counter its effects with his esoteric knowledge.

Makibi’s success infuriates the officials, and they decide that to hinder him they’ll try to starve him. He manages to overcome this hardship with the help of Nakamaro, who secretly brings him food every night. This continues for months, but eventually the time of another challenge comes.

A statue from Saiō-ji depicting Baozhi revealing his nature as an incarnation of the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (Kyoto National Museum; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

As it turns out, the officials decided to seek the help of a virtuous Buddhist monk, the Chan master Baozhi (宝志禅师; he actually lived during the reign of Wu of Liang, some 250 years before Makibi’s journey), who prepared a barrier meant to prevent supernatural beings from entering the palace where Makibi will be tested. This means that for the first time he will have to manage without any help from Nakamaro. His new task to interpret a complex poem, Yabatai (邪馬台). Its contents aren’t discussed in the story; it was a purported prophecy according to which Japan will undergo division and ultimately perish after the reign of the hundredth emperor. Needless to say, following the traditional order which includes mythical and legendary emperors, the prophecy evidently didn’t come to pass - Go-Komatsu was #100, Naruhito is #126. Makibi initially cannot even decipher a single sign. In despair, he prays to Sumiyoshi and Kannon of Hasedera. A spider miraculously appears, and moves across the text to help him read it properly. The gathered officials, as well as the Chinese emperor, are in awe. However, they don’t let Makibi return home, and once again lock him in the tower.

Shortly afterwards, Makibi is reunited with his ally Nakamaro, and enlists his help once more. He asks him to find a century old set of sugoroku paraphernalia. With the help of these tools, he causes an eclipse. The emperor learns about its cause from his diviners, and has his officials question Kibi. He claims that the only way to end the eclipse is to let him return to Japan. This time, they oblige, and the story ends. The forerunner preserved by Masafusa indicates that Makibi was also credited with bringing the Wen Xuan, the Yabatai and the game of go to Japan. In reality, go and Wen Xuan were already known in Japan before his journey. Meanwhile, according to the Edo period philosopher Hayashi Gahō Yabatai was most likely a hoax composed in Japan in the Heian period, even though it was held to be the work of Baozhi.

It is commonly assumed in scholarship that the story was meant to reflect somewhat xenophobic attitudes towards China or more broadly towards foreign lands prevalent at the time of its composition. While in Makibi’s and Nakamaro’s times sending envoys to China was relatively common, and Japanese emperors actively sought contact with their Chinese counterparts (though occasionally diplomatic correspondence could end up awkward as both sides aimed to present themselves as superior), with time similar journeys became less frequent, and started to be perceived as increasingly dangerous (to be fair - the risk of getting shipwrecked was genuinely fairly high). It might be significant that formal diplomacy resumed during the reign of Go-Shirakawa, though. It is distinctly possible that he saw this success as a parallel to Makibi’s legendary deeds, and commissioned an illustrated edition to basically congratulate himself.

An alternate proposal is that Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki arose as a part of an onmyōdō feud between the Kamo and Abe clans. For what it’s worth, it does seem that despite earlier successful arrangements meant to guarantee a division of positions in the court both the Abe and the Kamo would be satisfied with, tensions arose between them during reigns of emperors Toba and Go-Shirakawa, so roughly at the time of its composition. However, the interpretation of the story as a product of this conflict rests on the argument that Makibi is portrayed as more clever and skilled than Nakamaro. This sort of power level discussion is not entirely rooted in the primary sources, where the two clearly work as a team. There are further problems with this interpretation, too.

An obvious issue is that while the link between Abe no Nakamaro and the Abe clan is self-explanatory, it is not exactly evident in which way Makibi would be a representation of the Kamo. It is sometimes claimed in scholarship that the Kamo clan claimed descent from him, but this appears to be an Edo period misconception. It’s most likely a result of confusion between Kamo no Kibimaro (鴨吉備麻呂), a member of the Kamo clan who also traveled to China (his journey occurred earlier, during the final years of the reign of Wu Zetian), and Makibi. No reference to a relation between Makibi and the Kamo can be found in the fourteenth century genealogical treatise Sonpi Bunmyaku (尊卑分脈; “Genealogical Branches of the High and the Low”), though. Kamo no Yasunori is essentially treated as the founder of this lineage. A further problem is that there’s no good reason to doubt that the scroll was prepared for emperor Go-Shirakawa - who himself favored the Abe clan, as evidenced by the esteem Abe no Yasuchika (安倍泰親) enjoyed in his court.

Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki wasn’t commonly copied in the Kamakura and Muromachi periods, but portraying Makibi as an onmyōji only became more entrenched in literature over the middle ages. He was supposedly responsible for transmitting rituals focused on Tenkeisei (天刑星, “Star of Heavenly Punishment“; this deity was held to be a master of all shikigami, for more info see my previous article) alongside Kamo no Yasunori. In a local tradition from Mount Hiromine, he was credited with enabling the enshrinement of Gozu Tennō by making a pact with him during his journeys to China.

While the examples cited above were essentially new, the specific story illustrated in Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki evidently wasn’t forgotten either. It regained popularity in the Edo period, as evidenced by its various new adaptations. These include works from various genres, such as Koikawa Harumachi’s novel Kibi no Nihon Jie (吉備能日本知恵, “Japanese Kibi’s Ingenuity”) or the kabuki play Kibi Daijin Shina Tan (吉備大臣支那譚, “Story of Minister Kibi in China”). However, from the perspective of this article what matters the most is that it was incorporated into Abe no Seimei Monogatari, thus firmly becoming a part of Seimei’s origin story.

A personification of Mars, as depicted in Sōkan’s Iconographic Drawings of the Secrets of the Nine Luminaries (public domain; via Metropolitan Museum of Art)

The novel introduces Abe no Nakamaro first, and reveals that he was the reincarnation of Dongfang Shuo (remember him?) and by extension of the planet Mars (sic). Since Dongfang Shuo was incredibly loyal to his country, it was only natural the same was true for his reincarnation. However, as Nakamaro was born in Japan, and not China, this was less than optimal in the specific situation he found himself in. After arriving in China as an envoy, he was imprisoned - as described in earlier works - because his actions were perceived as disrespectful. He dies in prison shortly after.

A year after Nakamaro’s ill fated journey, Kibi no Makibi arrives in China as the next envoy. The Chinese emperor, Xuanzong, is infuriated that the tribute he presented was inadequate, and considers executing him, but decides to give him a way out. If he can complete a series of trials, he will be allowed to return to Japan instead (inadequate tribute be damned). These overlap with the earlier versions, though the order is changed.

Makibi playing go in Abe no Seimei Monogatari

The first of the trials involves go. Makibi is set to face a master of this game, a certain Xiandang (玄東; Gentō in Japanese) in it. His opponent actually doesn’t have a name in any of the early accounts of his adventures in China; it seems this was an innovation of an abbreviated version from the Hoki-shō.

The fateful go match, as imagined by Kunisuda Utagawa; note the inclusion of Xiandang's wife (Egenolf Gallery; reproduced here for educational purposes only) The name evidently caught on, though, since in addition to Abe no Seimei Monogatari it also pops up in other Edo period works, such as the 1852 kabuki play Kin’u Gyokuto Wakoku no Irifune (金烏玉兎倭国入船, “The Golden Crow, the Jade Rabbit, and the Ship that Arrived from Japan”). The resolution also differs somewhat: Makibi learns go by secretly observing Xiandang, who plays it regularly with his wife at home. He wins two matches against him fair and square, without the need to eat any of the pieces.

A spider helps Makibi

The Wenxuan trial is next; it essentially goes the same as in Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki. The Yabatai trial is altered slightly, though. For starters, Bao Zhi is not physically present - he is only referenced as the poem’s supposed author. The emperor selects it specifically because it’s uniquely difficult, and he can’t read it himself. Nakamaro learns about this, and tells Makibi the best solution might be to pray, which he promptly does. No reference is made to Sumiyoshi, but Kannon of Hasadera gets a more prominent role. Makibi’s devotion to this figure is stressed over and over again. The spider whose help lets him read Yabatai is explicitly identified as a manifestation of this bodhisattva, as well. Reading Yabatai is presented as a grand feat. The entire court cheers (a far cry from the excessively villainous portrayal of courtly officials in Kibi Daijin Niitō Emaki). Even the emperor is deeply moved by Makibi’s skill, and instead of simply letting him go back home as he initially intended he tells him that he can stay as long as he wants in China in order to study. This seems like an attempt at reconciling fictional portrayals of Makibi’s journey with historical reality - I must say I think it works pretty well.

In any case, Makibi accepts the offer, and spends a long time studying various arts in China, much like he did in real life. When he finally decides to return to Japan, Xuanzong bestows various gifts on him, including a variety of literary texts, musical instruments, relics of the Buddha, a robe made from the hide of a “fire-rat” (火鼠, huoshu in Chinese, kaso in Japanese; Makibi could thus complete at least one of the trials of princess Kaguya if he only met her) and, most importantly, the Hoki Naiden (presumably passed down from emperor to emperor, though the story doesn’t state it explicitly). He also ordered a thousand monks to pray to guarantee his voyage back home would be safe.

The Abe no Seimei Monogatari account of Makibi deeds doesn’t end here, in contrast with Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki. He safely returns to Japan, and the emperor bestows prestigious positions upon him as a reward for his accomplishments in China. Many years later, as an elderly man, he starts feeling like he essentially ended up with a life that should’ve been Nakamaro’s, though (somewhat confusingly, Nakamaro makes no physical appearance after the trials), and decides to find his family. He is unsuccessful, and ultimately writes in his will that he wants his own descendants to seek Nakamaro’s to give them the Hoki Naiden. As it later turns out, they have fallen into poverty, and have no real use for this tome. It ends up hidden until the birth of Abe no Seimei many years later.

The same events are described differently in the Hoki-shō. Makibi acquires the Hoki Naiden basically through the same means as in Abe no Seimei Monogatari, but after returning from China he gives it to young Seimei, who is introduced as a descendant of Nakamaro. In reality, despite sharing the same family name Nakamaro and Seimei were not directly related, though (Abe no Seimei Monogatari approaches this issue slightly differently, by having Seimei be a reincarnation of Nakamaro,as revealed by Hakudō). Furthermore, comparing the dates of Makibi’s journey and Seimei’s birth makes any encounter between them chronologically awkward.

It seems in at least some other works Makibi had one more role to play in setting up Seimei’s career: supposedly Kuzunoha (or, at the very least, Shinoda Myōjin) could be portrayed as his reincarnation. The problem is, while I have no reason to doubt the authenticity of this tradition, I can’t pinpoint its original source for now - this is in part why this article took so long to release. 

More than once I’ve seen an assertion that it comes from a sekkyobushi, but as I outlined earlier, it seems no actual evidence for the existence of such an adaptation is available. Furthermore, the most prominent online source of this claim is seemingly a blog on which I also found posts uncritically discussing Hotsuma Tsutae and JJCAT - which doesn’t exactly fill me with optimism. In the article Kitsunenyōbō Ni Miru Ikai ― Futari no Kuzunoha Ga Deau Koto ― Atsuko Katō states that the notion of Shinoda Myōjin being a reincarnation of Kibi no Makibi comes from Abe no Seimei Monogatari, but either this is a mistake, or for some strange reason a scene was omitted in Nana Miyata’s recent German translation (Die Erzählungen vom Leben und Wirken des Divinationsmeisters Abe no Seimei); unless the reference is actually to be found in the supplement to Abe no Seimei Monogatari which had the form of a divination manual, which is left out of the translation. Finally, the Kuzunoha article from Japanese Wikipedia gives the source as Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō, relying on an anthology of Edo period puppet plays from 1965, edited by Shigeru Yokoyama. Sadly, I can’t consult the full text of this work to verify. I’ll update this article if I ever manage to solve this conundrum. Until then, though, it must end on a slightly unsatisfying note. Bibliography Tumblr for some unfathomable reason didn't let me include a bibliography here, so sadly you have to visit a google doc to access it. I'm sorry.

[ghost-biird]

*listening to scary winter ambience and reading scary winter book*

I’m scared :(

[saturnniidae]

Hear me out: hijack Anya's ghost au..

[flavia8]

Raybearer is so good! I loved it. It's a bit weirdly paced and has it's fair share of traits that define it as a young adult book (Things that are common in books aimed at that demographic) It's very creative and thoroughly enjoyable, I enjoyed the magic system and the world.

[gar-a-ash]

Both dogs had their annual today and everyone was right, Reese did get bigger. Gained about 10 more pounds of muscle this last year because he's apparently never going to stop growing ever and hit a lean 95 pounds. Tassie has hit what I think is going to be her max of 65, though she may surprise me since she's starting to get into some good bone growth right now. We'll see what happens with her! 

Overall pretty impressed with them, though I do have to keep an eye on Tassie since the vet examined one of my concerns and said she might be displaying some early hip dysplasia, we'll see. I'm going to wait until she's 18 months and done the majority of her bone growth before I schedule xrays to be certain. It would be extremely abnormal if she is since both parents scored well on their OFA's, but, and this is why I'll always support a good breeder, if she is I do have that breeder contract to fall back on.

And then, surprise of all fucking surprise's, I brought both dogs into Petsmart afterwards and an extremely reactive dog came in and went off when he saw Reese and Tassie, and NEITHER of them reacted. The other owner kind of rudely allowed her dog to keep in eyesight of us and therefore keep going off, but other than a little bit of whining from Reese? Nothing. I was so impressed with them both, I am quite pleased with the pair today, even if they did cost me over a grand in vet bills.

[neckromantics]

Spoiling Astarion?

Bringing him back little things that remind you of him whenever he stays back at camp just so he knows you're still thinking of him while you're apart.

Astarion being so used to receiving little gifts from your travels that when you arrive back at camp, he's standing by your tent with his palm outstretched just waiting to see what you've brought him this time. The giddy little grin that's plastered on his face when you fork over the shiniest object you could get your paws on. All varying in degrees of monetary value, for sure, but all with a unique story of their own.

A couple of old coins from an ancient crypt. The entrance of which you'd all stumbled upon when Karlach punched a wall of a cave in victory after a particularly tough battle, only to come back with a handful of bones and cobwebs. The look of shock on her face when the entire wall came crumbling down on the group was enough to have you in stitches, entirely too weak from laughter to stand. You laid beneath the rubble for so long that Gale had assumed you developed a concussion and needed rescuing.

The PRETTIEST, crystal goblet that you'd stolen right from under a rich lady's nose under the guise that you were testing her drink for poison. You'd downed her ale in two gulps the second you exited the building. Was in the middle of patting yourself on the back for being oh-so cunning when you nearly fell on your ass. It was a sick, twisted coincidence that her ale did, in fact, turn out to be poisoned. But, at least you had a spare antidote on you that you gulped down before Shadowheart could find you in such a state. (And make fun of you, no doubt.)

A set of handmade jewelry– not stolen this time, if you can believe it. Wyll had pointed out the small shop to you while the two of you were out shopping for supplies. Said something about how it might be a good idea to pick out a new pair of socks since you'd been complaining about how holey yours had become after so much running around. Which was a good idea, truly– but the second you'd set eyes on the shop window, you knew what you wanted. A matching necklace and earring set, lovingly crafted with silver chain, so very delicate. So very understated that one could almost miss it among the rest of the more garish examples that sat alongside. Three, very small, opalescent stones shone so pretty at you beneath the sunlight that you could hardly look away. You would have given the shopkeep your left kidney just to see Astarion wearing them, but thankfully, it wasn't necessary. (You became so feral in your excitement to hear the very reasonable price that you nearly threw your entire gold pouch at the clerk's head and then kissed him on the mouth.)

You're an eager one. Astarion never has to wait– always receives his gifts before you can so much as slip your travel pack off of your shoulders. He goes real quiet for a moment. Has this far away look while gazing down at whatever it is, turning it over in his palm a couple of times to really study it.

The two of you sit together while you go through the rest of the day's spoils, and he listens while you tell him all about how you found today's special little trinket. Insists you spare no details in how you acquired it. (Unless any of those details are boring, dear. Do spare him of those.)

You know that there have to be some things he enjoys more than others. You know that there has to be some things you've given him that he outright dislikes. There have been a few occasions where he'd poked fun at you for bringing back something silly. Like "The roundest pebble you'd ever seen, Astarion, look at it roll!" or "This drawing of the two of you that you'd doodled on a stray sheet of parchment when you couldn't find anything else no matter how hard you tried!". BUT he has never refused anything you've chosen to bring back for him.

He thinks it's rather sweet that you've dedicated yourself to proving you still think of him when he stays behind. Wonders why you are the way that you are. Sort of loves you to death for it. Definitely does NOT invest in a bag of holding for everything once it all begins to stack up.

Definitely doesn't insist on you taking one half of the jewelry set so you always have a little piece of one another on you at all times. That would be ridiculous. (Earrings or necklace, darling?)

Sequel?

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.3k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Pregnant!Reader, innuendos, Kenji’s dirty thots 🙄, handjob, Sub!Ken, mentions of come eating

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your midnight cravings turn into something more than Kenji bargained for

Kenji woke up to the soft sound of your voice as you gently shook him awake. For a moment, he felt disoriented, and his mind was still foggy from sleep. But then he turned to face you, the familiarity of your scent anchored him.

The room was dark, the late hours casting soft shadows over your features. He could just about make out your facial features, the crinkle in your brows and your mouth slightly open.

“I’m thirsty,” you said. Kenji rubbed the sleep from his eyes and let out a yawn as he tried to fully wake up. He was still out of it, but he managed to process what you said.

“Water, right?” he guessed, his voice still thick with sleep as he sat up and pushed the blanket off.

His body still craved the warmth of the blanket, but your request pulled him out of that comfort. Even half-asleep, he still couldn’t ignore you.

He let out another yawn before he ran a hand through his unruly hair— a reflexive attempt to wake himself up more.

“But I don’t want water. I want a lemon popsicle,” you replied firmly.

Kenji blinked at you, the request slowly processing in his tired brain. You couldn’t be serious. A popsicle at this time of the night?

He gave you a dumbfounded look, searching for any signs to see if you were joking. But the pout and the stern look in your eyes told you weren’t bluffing.

He sighed, realising it was one of those pregnancy cravings— unpredictable, sometimes inconvenient. But he knew not to ignore them.

He should’ve expected it with you being five months pregnant. He heard stories from others but experiencing it first hand was something else entirely.

“Why?” he asked, partly in an attempt to stall, hoping you might change your mind.

“It’s more refreshing,” Kenji rolled his eyes, though he had to admit, it was amusing hearing your reasoning. It was one of the quirks he was slowly growing into, even if it was a little exasperated sometimes.

“Can’t I just get you some lemonade,” he suggested even though he knew that it would be pointless to ask.

“No, I want a popsicle,” you repeated, leaving no room for negotiation.

Typical, he thought. Though he knew you beat him in his reasoning.

“Alright, alright. You want a popsicle? I’ll get you one.” As much as he preferred to stay in bed, he knew this would all be worth it at the end— he would do anything to keep you and the baby satisfied.

He turned to leave the room, his feet dragging slightly as he padded to the kitchen. Tiredness still seeped in his bones, making his steps feel heavier and his movements slow.

He opened the freezer, the cold air hitting his face as he squinted against the brightness. The light from the freezer felt sharper against the surrounding darkness.

He began rummaging around the drawers until, finally, he found the damn lemon popsicle. With a sense of triumph, he pulled it out and headed back to the room.

When he returned, he found you sitting up against the headboard, waiting patiently for the popsicle. Kenji carefully unwrapped the popsicle, the crinkling of the wrapper was loud against the quiet room. He handed it to you to take.

“Here…” he said softly, masking the yawn threatening to escape.

He didn’t want you to feel guilty for waking him. Though it was a little irritating that you were awake at this hour, it wasn’t good for you— or the baby— to be up when you should be sleeping.

“Ahhh, thank you.” You beamed, taking the treat from his hand.

The smile was as bright as Christmas morning. It gave him a new source of energy through his heart. He’d move mountains, even wake up in the middle of the night, just to see you smile up at him like that.

Without waiting another second, you wrapped your lips around the cold treat, savouring the taste with a contented sigh.

Kenji’s eyes locked on the popsicle in your mouth, watching you as you sucked the flavour out of it, the slight crack as your teeth grazed the surface.

He caught himself staring, his thoughts teetering on the edge of dangerous territory. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearing his throat to regain his composure.

“That good, huh?” he teased, though he couldn’t hide the slight strain in his voice. His eyes flickered between your blissful face and the popsicle you were feasting on.

It was hard to ignore the growing desire within him, the way his mind kept drifting to dirty thoughts. He forced himself to shift his focus to something else, hoping he could distract himself.

“Can I take your attention off the popsicle for a moment? There’s something I wanted to talk about,” he asked.

But you didn’t seem to catch what he said, eyes closed and too busy relishing the popsicle, each suck and lick sending a shiver down his spine. It was pathetic, but a small part of him actually envied the damn popsicle in your hand.

He shook his head and teared his gaze away before he took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to stay on topic. “Can you just look at me, please? I want to ask you something…”

Finally, you look back up at him. Your lips were slightly wet from when you were liking the juice off of them.

The raw sight of you, combined with the lemon scent in the air, made his thoughts spiral. He could only imagine how sweet and zesty you would taste if he kissed you right now.

Kenji swallows thickly, pushing the thought aside. “There we go. Now, I have your undivided attention,” he managed to crack a smile at you. “You know how excited I’ve been since we found out about the baby, right? I can’t wait to be a dad. But there’s one thing that’s been on my mind.”

“What?” you asked, but before he could answer you, you shifted your gaze away and started licking the popsicle again— slow and deliberate. At least he knew you were listening— sort of.

Kenji paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he asked, “Have you thought of any baby names? We haven’t discussed it yet and I want to know what you think.”

You didn’t respond right away. Instead you sucking the melted juice that dripped down to the base of the popsicle. You seemed more interested in the frozen treat than the conversation.

Kenji gave you an incredulous look, though he couldn’t help but be a little amused.

The way your lips wrapped around it and the soft sound of your tongue sliding against the icy surface…it was far more distracting than he anticipated. You were savouring every bite, each one slower than the last, and it was driving him a little crazy.

Kenji coughed, trying to cover up the fact that he had been staring. “Try and focus. I know you’re enjoying the popsicle, but I need an answer,” he pressed on, though he was really trying to convince himself more than you.

“No I haven’t,” you said simply, your tongue swirling around the tip of the popsicle again.

Kenji couldn’t hide his disappointment. This was something he wanted to take seriously, especially since this was your first child together. “Really? You haven’t given any thought to the baby’s name?” He sighed, a little exasperated. “I thought you’d at least have some ideas,”

“Not really,” you said, still focused on the popsicle, sucking the flavour from the side with hypnotic concentration.

Kenji figured that now would be the perfect time to discuss the topic— the atmosphere was calm, and you were in a good mood. But it seemed that you weren’t as fully engaged in the conversation as he hoped.

“You really are depriving me of brainstorming all these precious names for our baby…” Kenji chuckled. “You know how much I love the idea of picking out the perfect name for our little bundle of joy,”

“We still have time,”

Another lick.

“Yeah, we do. But the sooner we decide on a name, the better,”

Kenj frowned as he realised he was losing you again, like he was just a blur in the background. But watching the way you continue to devour the popsicle with innocent enthusiasm was enough to forget about his disappointment.

The feeling was replaced with something else, something hard to ignore. He could feel the effect it was having in his body.

All he could do was watch— it woke a feeling inside him that he couldn’t fight back anymore. But what really put him on the edge was the soft moan that slipped from your lips, a sound so low and satisfied it sent a jolt of electricity through him.

He felt a flush of heat creep up his neck, spreading across his body like a wildfire. There was no way you were that oblivious to what you were doing to him, was there?

For a moment, he thought about saying something, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he decided to wait until you were finished, even if it was killing him inside.

He could feel his nails digging into his palms as his fists clenched by his sides, trying to anchor himself in place. He didn’t realise the sticky heat that pooled between his legs until he felt his boxers grow tighter.

Crap…

This couldn’t be happening…not now.

This wasn’t even distracting anymore— it was torturous. The effect you had on him was more intense than he anticipated.

He mentally scolded himself for standing there, watching you— he should’ve gone to bed straight after so he didn’t have to witness you and put himself in a predicament.

Finally, you finished the damn frozen treat, and Kenji seized the opportunity to step in. He stepped closer until he was right in front of you. Leaning in, he soft breath ghosted over your lips as you met his gaze

“Are you doing that on purpose?” He mumbled, a tint of irritation in his voice that he couldn’t suppress.

“Huh?” You looked perplexed, but Kenji couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if you were playing dumb.

“Don’t act so coy,” he muttered, his voice rougher now. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Your eyes dropped to his groin and he could see the gears turning in your head— the slow realisation seeping into your features.

“Oh…” you looked back up and gaped at him.

“Yeah…oh…” he mocked your tone with exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest.

He didn’t expect his bulge to look so visible under his trousers, but it was a relief that you weren’t so clueless anymore. Though, it didn’t do much to cool the fire burning in him.

“Sorry,” you offered meekly.

You don’t sound very sorry.

You don’t sound like you regretted anything.

He let out a huff, still trying to maintain some semblance of control. Part of him was still pissed at how you'd been acting, but he was so incredibly hard for you that he couldn't stop himself from wanting you.

Kenji forced himself to tear his gaze away, reminding himself that you weren’t supposed to be awake. The logical side of him was screaming to let it go and focus on getting you back to sleep. It took every fiber of him to fight off the desire to take you— he knew you must’ve been sleepy.

But it was a losing battle, and the way you were looking at him only made it worse. He couldn't overlook his swollen cock attacking the front of his pants, seeking freedom from his clothes.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight, okay? I don’t want you to overexert yourself,” he said, trying to sound firm. He could only imagine how much precum was already starting to leak.

“I can use my hands,” you whispered. It was like dangling a matchstick near a powder keg.

His heart rate spiked as he halted at your words. The logical side of his head was struggling to keep control as every pulse in his body throbbed with need— his cock twitched painfully under his pants.

“N-no.” He stuttered, still shifting awkwardly in his place. Your offer was so tempting, but he could’ve give in. You needed rest.

“But I want to take care of you,” you insisted.

“I know you do but you need rest.” He said firmly. The conviction in his voice was barely holding on by a thread

However, his resistance shattered the moment you reached out to touch his jaw.

Your touch was firing, sending shivers down his spine as your hands gently traced the line of his jaw and moved to stroke his cheeks.

That’s cheating…

“Stop…” he protested weakly, but his words didn’t reach his head. His body longed for your touch and he knew that he would be frustrated throughout the night if he refused your offer.

“Just a quickie.”

He would’ve refused if he hadn’t felt his tip rub against the fabric of his boxers. But the alarmingly pleasurable sensation along with your soft voice was impossible to ignore.

The next moment felt like a blur and Kenji found himself perched on the bed, bare. His cock was standing upright, twitching and begging to be touched. The precum that already leaked from the tip only exposed his predicament even more.

“Please…please…” Kenji couldn’t mask the desperation in his voice as he looked at you with desperate eyes.

The corner of your lips tugged up in amusement as you heard his tone, the power shift between the two of you was more pronounced than ever. You had him wrapped around your fingers so easily.

“Are you begging now?” you teased, your voice soft yet dripping with a bit of mockery. A quiet chuckle leaving your lips as you leaned in closer. He could feel the ghost of your hands hovering over his dick and it was driving him insane.

At this point, Kenji didn’t care how desperate he looked, or how quickly the tables had turned against him. All he could focus on was feeling more of you, even having you close, erasing the distance between the two of you.

“I’m…not begging,” he protested weakly, though his words fell flat. You both knew he was lying, his tone betraying him with every word.

His breath was shallow and his heart hammered in his chest, denial sounded almost absurd. He wouldn’t have minded if you called him a beggar— he’d wear the title proudly if it meant you’d give in and let him indulge in you.

You tilted your head slightly, observing his reaction with a knowing smile— a look you were aware would send another shiver through his body. His eyes met yours, wide and pleading— a failed attempt at grasping onto his dignity.

“Don’t look at me like that…” his voice sounded more like a plea than he intended.

“Like what, hm?” you asked, acting clueless. But the dark glint in your eyes gave away to your intentions. The way you watched him only made his dick twitch more and you relished the effect you were having on him.

Your fingers wrapped around his length— your touch was like fire. Kenji had to clamp his onto lower with his teeth to suppress the guttural moan that erupted from his throat.

His cock reacted with more precum beading from his tip. It was a huge relief to finally feel your touch where his body had been desperately screaming for.

But the feeling didn’t last long when you didn’t move your hand for a while and he was starting to grow impatient.

Through gritted teeth, he managed to bring himself to speak, “Please, just…”

“Just what, Kenji? Use your words,”

He could feel his sanity teetering the longer you stalled. “You know what I want!”

His entire being wound tight, the tension knotted further and it was obvious that you could see how much he was aching for you.

But you still didn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet. “Do I? Because it sounds like you’re not sure yourself,”

He grunted your name in frustration, but he knew deep down that he was enjoying this just as much as you were. If his pride hadn’t crumbled before, it definitely had now. “I need you…to move your hand on my…”

His sentence was cut short when you started stroking his dick with slow precision, putting slight pressure on the sensitive skin.

“That’s more like it,”

He made no effort to hide the sounds that escaped his mouth uncontrollably. His moans and whines came out as a broken symphony. The delicious friction from your palms was dizzying.

His body was taut with his muscles trembling. You lightly squeezed the tip with your thumb and forefinger and his hips jerked in response to the sudden sensation. A strangled moan escaped his mouth.

Blood rushed to his ears as he felt his senses getting lost in the haze.

He reached his peak quicker than he anticipated. His orgasm tore through his body that suddenly came as a shock to him.

He let out another loud moan, the bliss completely overwhelming him. His release spilled down your knuckles as you kept stroking him, riding out his high.

His mind was hazy and it took him a few short breaths to come down from his high and simmer down from the afterglow.

“Crap…I didn’t mean to go so quickly. I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his face burning a little from embarrassment as he looked at you and saw his fresh hot mess over your hands.

He couldn’t believe how quickly he lost control, even though he had no resistance at all the moment you started to palm him.

You let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by the situation you both were in now.

“D-don’t laugh at me,” he mumbled, still embarrassed by the mess on your hands. Kenji leaned back against the headboard, his deflated length resting against his thigh.

His body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure, his mind still floating in a blissful trance.

“Do you think licking this off will be bad for the baby?” Your voice jolted him back to reality. He looked back at you and saw his release still glistening on your hands.

His heart, that had just begun to slow down, stuttered back to a fast rhythm. He couldn’t believe your words, and the nonchalance in your tone only made it worse.

“I…can’t believe you just said that so casually…” his voice was a mixture of amusement and shock.

“What?” You gave him a look that was both innocent and self-aware. “You know I’d swallow your load any day of the week,”

Kenji straightened himself up on the bed, letting out a shaky breath. He tried to shake off the daze that still lingered. The sight of you, the raw sound of your bedroom voice— it was tempting him to lose himself in you all over again.

But his gaze fell on your belly that housed you unborn child. The reminder that you were pregnant was enough to keep his hormones in check and reel in his desires.

“Yeah…I know you would,” he finally replied as let out a shaky breath, “But I don’t want you to do that now…I don’t want you to risk the baby’s health,”

You nodded in agreement, your teasing replaced with understanding.

“You’re right. I’ll go wash my hands,”

Kenji watched as you got up and left the room. Even in the afterglow, when his mind was still foggy from his release, the protective instinct was stronger than his labido.

When you returned to bed, Kenji quickly grasped your hand to pull you in so close, you were nose-to-nose. He made sure your eyes were on him.

“Don’t think this is over, by the way,” his voice was low and sultry. “I’ll get you back for teasing me…soon.”

You chuckled, your breath mingling with his— your voice dropped to match his. “I’ll be waiting…”

My mother used to crave lemon popsicle when she was pregnant. Is it bad I’m using that as inspo 23 years later lmao??

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @rosaliin-blog @bloosnothere @nina-from-317 @ivvieene @bobbeshwar

@ichkyu @gyusimp

[pricesprincess]

from this ask | smut but not really still mdni | pet play | leash/collar use | milestone event (open)

"i want to try something new si." you told your boyfriend who was on the couch after dinner, his body relaxed from a good meal and being home with you where he belonged.

his eyes shifted from the glowing screen to the doorway where you stood with a leather collar and a matching leash that had a chain in the middle. "you want to be a dog?" he asked with trepidation.

he's heard plenty of stories from the men he's met over the years talking about their wild sex stories and a few of them had pet play in it. you shrugged sheepishly and came forward swinging it around.

"well, not really, i don't know...i just want to try something new, the book i was reading had it and it was pretty hot actually." you babbled on nervously making him smile softly, a rare but genuine one.

it was cute to simon to see you so blubbery like this over something so trivial when he's had his tongue on every inch of your skin. he patted his spread thigh and watched as you sauntered over shyly.

you perched on top of his knee shifting as he fingered the diamond studs on the collar, it was made of a soft leather that crinkled under the weight of simon's thumb. "my pretty puppy then." he gruffed.

his hand came up to caress your cheek, for a man like simon, someone so big and capable of crushing your head like it was made of chalk instead of bone. thick calloused fingers squeezed gently.

simon watched the way your eyes went wide as your lips pushed out and pouted. "i want to be your pretty puppy simon, please." you begged, your throat bobbing with excitement.

"you sur' luv?" simon asked again, his thumb catching your bottom lip and giving it a squeeze, his dark brown eyes shifting down to the way you clenched your thighs together and nodded ready to begin.

he pointed down to the carpet and watched as you scrambled off his lap to kneel between his massive thighs with warmth flushing your entire face. simon grasped the leather collar and unclasped it.

you watched and thrummed your fingers on your knees as he wrapped the collar around your neck. "a perfect' collar for a perfect' puppy." he rasped, his thumb tracing the top of the leather.

your whole body hummed with exhilaration as simon hooked the leash to the collar, his lips twitching a little seeing you like this, the slip you put on earlier was lacy and see-through giving him a great view of your pebbled nipples and tits.

simon wrapped the end of the leash around his big paw, his fingers flexing against it as he tugged you forward watching your tits jiggle as you planted your hands in front of you for support with a gasp.

it wasn't expected and seeing this side of simon was new and it left you feeling eager and wet, your pussy slick and ready for attention. "can you bark for a treat?" he asked popping the button of his pants.

your eyes shifted from his fist that held the leash to his other hand that freed his weeping cock free from the confines of his boxers, thick and wide topped with a deep red tip and veins with a hairy and heavy sack you wanted to nuzzle your face against.

mustering up the best you could, you leaned forward and barked.

"i've met' strays who wer' mor' obedient'." simon's words were rough like sandpaper and you felt disappointment trickle in as you pouted and barked again, this time louder yapping like a small dog.

he wagged his dick like it was a toy or a treat for you and your mouth watered for the taste of simon.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Two: Our Angelfish

NOTE FOR MAINLY QUOTEV: Please stop asking for updates. It’s incredibly stressful and considered rude by most authors. I understand and honored that you’re excited to read my story, but please stop saying “Update?” and things like that. I don’t know when the next update will be, probably within a month.

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: I think they’ll all be short. Sorry. Also not even trying to go in order at this point.

When you stepped through the employee’s entrance to the aquarium, you could tell something was wrong right away. The water had steam rising from it and the room felt uncomfortably warm, reminding you slightly of the savannah.

Azul surfaced in the middle of the tank, his chin just above the hot sea water, and Floyd and Jade surfaced near the edge.

You walked closer and dropped to your knees at the platform’s edge, sticking your fingers into the water. Yes, it was definitely very warm.

“Is there something wrong with the tank?” you wondered aloud.

“No, angelfish, everything is perfect,” Azul said smoothly.

Immediately, clawed hands grabbed each of your arms, so tightly you were sure they’d leave marks, and pulled. You fell headfirst into the water and swallowed a lungfull of sea water before you could react properly. The salt stung your eyes and your lungs already ached for air since you hadn’t had time to hold your breath.

Your arms were released for a moment and you surfaced, gasping for precious air, then choking as Azul poured something into your gaping mouth. You stared at the octopus and he grinned at you unashamedly.

“What was that? What did you make me drink?” you asked, trying not to panic. Surely it was just something to help you breathe again or something? Right? Azul wouldn’t do anything to harm you, would he?

You started to swim back to the platform, but Floyd and Jade grabbed your arms again and dragged you further from the edge. “Let go! Now!” you demanded, but they merely chuckled at your plight.

“Let go of me!” you shouted, hysteria starting to rise. Your legs were starting to feel strange, tingling painfully, and you couldn’t move them any longer, held up only by the two eels.

“No, Shrimpy,” Floyd replied, giggling.

You looked to Jade for help.

“It’s time for you to join the family,” Jade replied simply.

You jolted as one of Azul’s tentacles wrapped around your legs, squeezing them together tightly, “We’ve been patient, angelfish, but it’s time now. This is where you belong.”

“Forever!” Floyd added with a loud giggle.

Pain shot through your legs and your skin began to prickle like a thousand needles had been stuck into them. The agony- it felt like your bones were shifting and reshaping themselves!

“Relax, little researcher,” Jade whispered, his warm breath on your ear making you shiver despite the warmth of the water, “It’ll be over soon.”

“Embrace it,” Azul encouraged, “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“Embrace… what?” you asked amidst the pain. Then you looked down at your legs, to see what was causing you so much agony. 

You stopped breathing altogether.

In place of your two legs was a beautiful white tail, much like how you would picture a mermaid’s, but with a silvery, translucent fin at the end of the smooth white scales. 

Beautiful, yes, but wholly unwanted.

You began to scream. At first, it was a wordless, terrified scream, but it turned to calls of help. “Mr. Crowley! Zookeepers! Anyone! HELP! PLEASE!”

You fell silent, trying to hold your breath, as the eel halflings dragged you under the surface. At last, when you could no longer hold your breath, inhaled underwater. You were even more horrified to realize you could breathe through the water with ease now. 

The eels dragged you into a huge sand castle they had built themselves, Azul following. You curled up and began to cry. Who would help you now? Who could help you? 

Somewhere above the surface, watching through the cameras, Mr. Crowley smiled.

He couldn’t wait to advertise his aquarium’s newest and most precious addition: the angelfish halfling that would never leave, as long as Jade, Floyd, and Azul were alive.

[backtothefanfiction]

Insecure | Joel Miller Imagine

Prompt: “YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO INSECURE!”

Summary: Being Joel’s- well- whatever you are, isn’t easy.

Warnings: ANGST!!!

A/N- just a quick one before bed to keep me in the habit… and I just needed to write something angsty. A bit open ended, but yeah, hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to give feedback and reblog if you like!

Joel was handsome- you knew that. Had always known that. Heck you had wanted to jump his bones the very first time you saw him. So you understood when women, girls and sometimes even other guys did a double take or just stared at him. But it was like he was oblivious to it.

You had been travelling and working with him for 7 months now and no matter what town, city or QZ you dropped into, it was the same fucking story. He’d walk in all swagger, some dickhead would feel threatened because Joel turned his girl’s eye. They’d end up in a fight and he’d get you both kicked out because he was both too ignorant or stubborn to just concede. He’d then get frustrated and go take it out on something- hunting game or punching things or if that still didn’t work jacking off in the middle of the night when he thought you were asleep.

2 months into it you had gotten drunk with him in some cabin in the middle of nowhere that thankfully still had a stash of liquor hiding under the kitchen sink. With a little liquid courage you had drunkenly admitted you’d heard him on those nights. You had teased him and offered to help if he wanted it. You should have just kept your mouth shut, shouldn’t have offered anything because Joel really was oblivious. He thought it was just sex. A way for you to both blow off some steam at the end of the fucking world. But for you… well… it was everything.

Even when you got back home, on those particularly tough days, he sought you out. You would fuck and talk until you both fell asleep. He seemed to smile more around you. Open up to you about the past. But where you thought you had a growing relationship, he just thought you were a good friend. Because at the end of the day, if it’s not clearly spelt out for him, Joel won’t see it… Or maybe he does, he just refuses to acknowledge it- and that just makes it worse. Especially when he starts coming to you for other stuff.

He would come to you for dinner. And you would play the happy little housewife role too; laying the table, learning his favourites so you could cook them for him. If he got hurt for any reason, it was you and your first aid kit he would come to, to patch him up.

He would invite you to other peoples gatherings as his plus one. He moved some of his stuff into one of the drawers in your dresser. For all intents and purposes you were a couple… but you weren’t- and he always made that abundantly clear when others asked.

“So how long have you two been together now?” Tess had asked over dinner.

“Oh we’re not together.” He had hastily said before shoving another forkful of food quickly into his mouth, not even sparing you a second glance.

But Tess saw it. She saw the way the light dimmed in your eyes when he said it. Saw how distant you became. After all this time, he still wouldn’t call it what it was.

The three of you ate in uncomfortable silence after that, but he seemed none the wiser. He didn’t see the looks of pity Tess shot your way. Didn’t see the apology in her eyes as she left.

“Did I do something wrong?” He finally asked, breaking the silence as you began clearing plates off the table, scraping the scraps into the bin, before placing them into the sink.

At his words, you wished you had the luxury of being dramatic, throwing down the plates and smashing them, but resources were scarce enough as it was. Not to mention you’d just have to clean up all the pieces when he inevitably left to avoid this conversation. But all your anger and frustration was still there, bubbling up under the surface like a pot of boiling water, just waiting to simmer over. “No, Joel.” You seethed under your breath, trying to keep a lid on it, but you had sat too long in the silence just thinking about it all- realising how silly you had been to even think someone like him would actually want to be with you.

“Really, Darlin’, because it feels like-“

“JUST STOP!” You said, dropping the glasses into the sink on top of the plates with a clatter, your hands flying into the air searching for some sort of mercy. “Please stop!” You said again, forcing yourself to breath and take a moment and try as much as you could to keep your cool, because you knew him. You knew the moment he heard you raise your voice or get stressed with him, he’d just shut down and check out.

“Stop what?” He tried to say confused, which only made your blood simmer more.

You took in a deep breath and counted to five inside your head before you spoke. “Why did you have to say that?”

“Say what? Darlin’ I’m so fucking confused right-“

“No.” You said, shutting him down, willing him to think, to listen, to see- for once in his life. “Why did you say that in front of Tess.”

“Say what?” He asked again confused. His foot began to tap on the floorboards as he began to feed off your energy, himself growing equally as irritated as you.

“That we weren’t together.”

“Because we’re not.” He said bluntly.

“Really?!” You asked exasperatedly.

“Yes, really!”

“Joel, you practically live here. We do everything together. I cook you dinner. I do your laundry. WE SLEEP TOGETHER!”

“You offered all those things!” He stressed.

“Oh my god! How do you not see it?!”

“See what?!” He retorted.

“You invite me to places as your plus one.”

“Yeah, because we’re friends.”

“Oh my GOD!” You sighed, your hand running through your hair as you turned away from him, unable to look at his face. “YOU KNOW, YOU MAKE ME SO INSECURE!” You shouted at him as you sharply turned back to face him. “I literally put myself out there for you, every- single- day- and it’s still never enough. What is it Joel? Am I just not good enough for that?”

“We’re just us, why do you want to put a label on that?”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” You screamed at him.

It was like detonating a bomb. His face was a picture. He really hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t wanted to see it.

“You think I did all this for you, just because we were friends?” You asked him, when the silence between you grew too much.

When he remained silent, you sighed in defeat and turned back to the sink. You rested your hands against the cold porcelain, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. This was it. You’d lost him, you were sure of it. Any second now he’d say he was gonna grab his things and go and that would be it. Unwilling to face a goodbye, you reached for the tap and turned it on.

You didn’t hear his footsteps move closer to you over the sound of the running water. When his hand reached past you to turn off the tap, it made your blood run cold.

“No.” He finally said into the silence. “No, I didn’t think you did all those things just because we were friends.” He sighed. “I just… after Sarah’s mom- and then everything that happened to Sarah- I just…” His voice kept trailing off, unable to find his words. His hand reached to rest over yours on the edge of the sink, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “I was just so scared about getting attached. If I put a label to my own feelings, it’d just feel worse when it’s inevitably snatched away from me again.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to work out what he was saying. He sighed as he hung his head, unable to meet your eyes, his own guilt and shame weighing heavy on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He eventually said. “I’m sorry that I made you feel insecure, or like I don’t appreciate everything that you do.” He said, his eyes slowly lifting to find yours again. “I never meant to make you feel like that. You are enough- more- than enough, I’d be nothing without you.” He quietly confessed. “I’d still be picking fights and killing guys and beating one out in frustration most nights. Barely eating. Wearing the same flannel and pair of jeans for he fifth day in a row… I’m sorry- okay… I’m sorry.” He said and his words began to make you soften, your body leaning further into him. “But I still can’t put a label on this.” He said; and your face fell.

You took a moment- you breathed deeply. One, two, three.

“Okay.” You conceded.

“Okay?” He questioned.

It wasn’t the answer you were looking for- the outcome you had been hoping for- but for him… it was close enough. “Okay.” You confirmed,

“Okay.” He slowly nodded and agreed. “I’ll do these.” He offered, nudging you out of the way of the sink.

“Okay.” You quietly agreed again…. But only time would tell if it was really okay… or if this fight was just on hold for another day.

[galamalion]

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike. 

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight. 

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you.  “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become. 

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

[neil-gaiman]

Had to make an entire account just to tell you this, and I'm sure you've heard it before, but I figure it never hurts to repeat it--what you've done for me as a queer person, specifically with Good Omens, has rewritten my perspective on every piece of media I've ever consumed. When I watched the finale episode, it was about 2 a.m., and I remember being confused as to why I was so shell-shocked, why I couldn't talk about it for weeks afterward, and still can't without my chest tightening like a middle schooler at her first concert. Sure, it's emotional, but so are a lot of stories, and none of them have impacted me in the same way.

The thing is that to my bones, I had this certainty that it would never happen. I've watched/read queer love stories, ones that ended happily and ones that didn't, ones as side plots and ones that are the plot--but if I ever encountered one with actual uncertainty, with the double-meanings and the overemotional turmoil, I thought, "Oh, that's how it's going to be," and I resigned myself to wait for the writers or the actors to say they're TOTALLY together, we just didn't need to be obvious about it. And Good Omens isn't, in the trailers, wholly about a romance. Of course it is, but there's some plot squished in amongst all the romance, so I thought it would be one of those uncertainty-stories, where I'd know and you'd know they love each other but we didn't need to make a big deal about it. I didn't think they'd say it. I certainly didn't think they'd kiss. I watched Crowley stalk up to Aziraphale and grab him by the coat and I still thought, "Nah. Not gonna happen."

The only writers who had ever represented people like me in relationships like mine with any authenticity, who gave value to the drama and the camp, were romance writers. If it wasn't in the romance section, I was resigned to being a side note or a shoo-in, a love INTEREST instead of a love STORY. And I didn't realize how earth-shattering it would be to be, for lack of any suitable word, Jane-Austened like that. Can't speak for all queer people, but I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me and my partner--who still, for the record, cannot do much more than giggle like madmen at gif-sets and plot how to get our other friends to watch it too.

Thank you. That means a lot.

[lalunanymph]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 — n. seishiro + i. rin

what’s better than one football prodigy in your bed? that’s right—two.

"move your lukewarm ass—"

"s'not my fault you couldn't get a bigger bed!"

"if i have to see your foot right in front of my face again, i'll—"

"rin," you pouted. "sei."

the unlikely pair turned to you, teal blue eyes and steel grey ones focused on your flushed face.

you were naked from the waist down, legs spread and ready for the both of them to take you... if only they would just stop bickering for a second.

the story of how you landed in between two of blue lock's most lethal players was a funny one, but you couldn't recount it right this second.

after all, history was the furthest thing from your mind when you were waiting for either of them to just fuck you.

rin, the hot-headed one between him and nagi, tossed a baleful glare at the white-haired man. "can't even finish what you started right—must i always teach you what to do?"

"careful, itoshi," nagi mumbled breezily, though the threat behind his casual tone was clear as day. "i could beat your ass anytime on the field."

"you barely have any talent, you lukewarm—"

your arms around his shoulders stopped rin from his tirade. the only thing in the world that could calm him down was you and your sweet smile which could rival the sun.

"be nice to each other, please," you whispered, and for good measure, placed a kiss on rin's warming cheek. "i really need you both. don't keep me waiting?"

you left an open-ended question for either man to follow through. nagi was the one who didn't hesitate to meet your needs in the middle.

curling his large palm around your ankle, you fought a shiver at how the veins on the back of his hand seemed more pronounced now that he was tensed. he yanked you from rin, and you tumbled back onto the bed, legs falling wide open for him to dive in between them.

his lips were swollen, shaded close to cherry wine when he latched onto your clit again, slowly sucking it and massaging it with his mouth. your head tossed back, and rin's presence was felt by his hand on your throat, turning your face towards him.

your mouth parted open in a silent scream, and rin took the chance to ease his cock down your throat.

the walls of this love hotel which had seen numerous affairs would implode if news of this tryst reached the wrong ears.

news would pour out, and disgust would be splashed across the pages of every tabloid.

it would ruin both your lovers' careers.

but, like an asteroid approaching the burning surface of the sun, a collision of epic proportions was inevitable.

you white-knuckled the sheets, hips writhing like a pit of snakes with nowhere to go. trapped in between two football prodigies, you could only take their merciless thrusting and licking, until the tight ball of heat in your lower belly was threatening to explode.

white light flooded through the cracks of your barely opened lids. rin was speeding up his thrusts, the sensual sounds of wetness and your throat taking him second to nagi's lewd moaning and lapping in between your legs.

you threaded shaky fingers through his frosty silver locks, trying to anchor yourself from flooding away in a sensation of pleasure.

"focus on us," rin's voice tainted by the searing pleasure roiling in those beautiful teal eyes reverberated through your ringing ears in a low growl. "don't tap out now, baby."

something physical and hot curled in your lower belly at rin's term of endearment. the famed stoic striker rarely ever doled out pet names, and something about being called rin's baby—the one to spark his natural instinct to protect—had your heart cartwheeling in your chest.

"mhm, tastes s'good," nagi's slurry groan added a layer of sensation you couldn't keep up with. he nuzzled your pubic bone, a momentary break, only to rub his slick lips over your clit in his rendition of a lazy, sensual kiss.

an electric feeling of darkness slithered down your spine, and you moaned around rin's length.

you were wet everywhere.

drool dripping down your chin. juices staining your thighs. sweat seeping into the sheets.

every second that passed in this blissful suspension of time and space was filled with unbearable pleasure. your hips twitched, stuffed moans trying to creep past the willing obstruction choking your airway.

you tasted rin's musk, the smell of him—soap and salt—springing tears to your eyes.

above you, his fall of dark green hair shaded his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead. a snarl was etched across his mouth, the shine of his perfect white teeth flashing like a quick camera light in your hazy mind's eye.

flickering your gaze to the man between your thighs, your hips undulated when you noticed nagi removing his pants. the white-haired prodigy had zero patience when he slid his pretty, veiny cock against your folds, testing the waters and your eagerness.

your body responded instantly, lower half angling upwards, legs falling wider to accept his larger frame comfortably.

in between two men who were easily over six foot, it was hard not to be smothered by their bodies—but you adored the suffocation.

you loved the feeling of nagi's bigger body caging you on the bed, while his heavy hips collided with yours in a bruising pace that almost made you spit out rin's girthy length.

"fuck," rin huffed, craning his neck back to loll his head, eternal bliss written on his pretty features. "so good. f-fuck. best mouth..."

he trailed off in a whimper which would've been unnoticeable if seishiro had not stopped fucking into you.

"told ya," the white-haired striker mumbled triumphantly. "told ya to take a chance on us."

you could actually hear rin gritting his teeth.

"just focus on fucking her," he spat, murderous glare fracturing into heated pieces from his faltering expression. it was hard to hold onto anger when you were tonguing his balls.

he slid his gaze to your grinning mouth split open by his fleshy globes and felt a surge of love so strong that if he were standing, rin would've been knocked to his feet.

luckily, he was already on his knees for you.

the one woman who could put him there without a single complaint.

"i wuv you," your cute confession while your mouth was full of him made rin almost tear up. those lukewarm feelings would never see the light of the night—not when nagi was opposite of him, fucking into your pussy like he might never have it in his life again.

rin eyed the frothing, creaming mess in between your thighs born from the other striker's precise, clean strokes.

was there anything that this stupid white-haired bum couldn't do?

rin tamed down his jealous thoughts, reminding himself again that you three were a team. an unlikely one—but still a team nonetheless.

as for the other man, he was completely drunk on the sway of your hips and tits, eyeing the hypnotizing way your throat bulged when it was full of rin only to smooth out and repeat again. and again. and again.

he felt his own balls tighten when you pulled your face off rin's cock, running your hot pink tongue over his taint and balls.

it was like he could feel it gliding across his own skin—

"fuck!"

seishiro fell into a heap on top of you, completely spent. his heavy breaths fanned across your neck and chest, his cum spilling out in milky stains onto the sheets, cock pulsing pathetically in you, like his soft whines which begged for your attention.

luckily, your hands were offloaded from stroking rin's pretty and thick length when the other man's hips stuttered and he gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

seishiro could tell when the younger itoshi had come—his face would crumple first, like a paper doily that was unable to fight off the force of his body's baser instinct. then, a pinch of pain in between his brows, a heavy sigh and half-lidded drunkenness.

when those teal eyes fluttered wide open again and he stumbled back onto his haunches, you were there to catch rin.

how the hell did you manage to cuddle in bed with two really tall, athletic men—you would never know.

but with nagi's head on your chest, and rin curled into your side, you were floating on a cocktail of hormones and pride at bringing two of blue lock's most talented men right into your bed.

a coasting sensation that was dragged down the corners into reality for a split second like a curtain pulling back when you heard rin mumble: "next time, i'm getting her pussy," loud enough for seishiro to hear.

nagi grunted, not giving the younger man the time of day or space to breathe when he uttered his next words.

"why don't you score a scorpion trap against me first and then we'll talk."

every reblog and (nice!) feedback given gets your delulus closer to trululus

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[serpentandlily]

Arcane - Azriel x Reader

Azriel x DeathGod!Reader

Summary: Azriel never thought he’d find his mate, was convinced the Mother hadn’t even given him one because he was unworthy. That is, until he stumbles upon his mate while looking for the most unusual ally.

Based on this request.

Warnings: very brief illusion to past SA

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Rhys declared, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m afraid another war is on the horizon. Koschei cannot be dealt with alone.”

“I don’t understand. The weaver and the bone carver were able to be killed,” Cassian interjected. “Why is it impossible for us to find a way to kill Koschei?”

“It took the might of the cauldron to defeat them,” Rhys explained.

“Well, then let’s ask Miriam and Drakon if we can use the cauldron,” Cassian replied, giving the obvious answer.

“It would be no use,” Feyre sighed. “I destroyed the book. We’d have no idea how to cast the spell the King of Hybern used that day. And we risk Koschei, himself, getting his hands on the cauldron.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mor chimed in. “Something, someone, that could be as powerful as the sorcerer himself. He wasn’t the only God that found their way to Prythian.”

“Most of them are locked up in the Prison,” Rhys said. “And the Prison would not allow us to free any of them even if we wanted to.”

“Az, how has your search for Bryaxis been going?” Feyre asked.

“Not good,” Azriel answered honestly. “It’s like that thing disappeared from Prythian entirely.”

The room was silent for a moment until Amren sat up straight. “Wait, there is someone we could go to for help. As a last resort.”

Rhys lifted his head, staring at her with a heavy resolve. “No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous.”

“You said it yourself, we’re out of options!”

“What are you two talking about?” Feyre asked, looking between them.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Bryaxis…had a sibling. If you could even call her that. Someone who also came from wherever he slipped through from.”

“And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Mor asked with a glare, crossing her arms.

“Because,” Rhys started. “Like I said, it’s too dangerous to get into contact with her. She’s…well, to be honest, no one really knows much about her. She keeps herself in a dark cave somewhere in the middle. Likes the darkness as much as Bryaxis does.”

“If no one knows much about her, then how do you know she’s dangerous?” Feyre asked. “Everyone was scared of Bryaxis until I went down there and was helped by it.”

“I’ve been told stories of her from my father,” Rhys explained. “How in the past, long before any of us were born, she could cause the fall of entire armies. Could level any court into rubble and dust.”

“And if that’s true, then doesn’t it speak to her character that she hasn’t done any of that? Maybe she is good of heart,” Mor suggested.

“We’re out of options, Rhys,” Amren said. “She might be our last hope.”

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess we better get ready for a trip to the middle.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian to see him frowning as they stood in front of the dark cave. It was just him, Cass and Rhys who had come here to try and find this creature to ask for help. But it seemed Cassian was already losing his nerve.

“I tried to tell you,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “Azriel, can you scout ahead with your shadows?”

As soon as those words left Rhysand’s mouth, Azriel’s shadows darted ahead, trailing into the cave in a flurry. Azriel’s eyes widened as he was left standing completely bare, exposed. Not a single shadow had stayed with him, which was unusual. He tried to brush it off, tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt without them.

They waited expectantly but his shadows never returned. Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t call them back,” he said to his two brothers watching him. “They aren’t listening to me.”

“That’s…unusual,” Rhysand said, stroking his jaw.

Nothing more was said as the darkness in the cave seemed to grow and grow, almost extending out towards them despite the sun overhead.

“Who are you?”

The feminine voice was sensual yet sweet, playful almost. Nothing like he had been expecting. It struck something inside of Azriel, making his chest ache. Rhysand stood up straight, switching from brother to the High Lord in a mere second.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” Rhys answered, plucking a piece of lint from his coat. “If my sources are right, I believe you are y/n, sister of Bryaxis.”

“That I am,” the voice answered. “Why are you here? No one ever dares come here.”

Those words might’ve seemed like a threat, but her tone was light, curious.

“We’ve come to beg a boon,” Rhysand answered honestly. “There is another Death God who threatens war. We have been unable to stop his efforts.”

“Nobody has ever asked for my help before,” the voice said back in that same curious tone. “And what of Bryaxis. Will they help as well?”

“Bryaxis…Bryaxis was freed by my High Lady. We have been unable to find them.”

A step in the darkness. Another. Light footsteps came closer and closer to the edge of the cave. Azriel’s heart rate picked up, his hand falling to truth-teller. Cassian’s face was white and he looked ready to flee.

“You are afraid.”

It was not a question. Just a statement. But Rhysand answered it like it was.

“Bryaxis is made of nightmares,” he explained. “Something so terrifying to us. Perhaps you do not see it the same way but I imagine you are much the same and that is why we are…nervous.”

A laugh. A light, lilting laugh. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest.

“Me and Bryaxis are not made of the same thing, but opposite. A balance for our world,” the voice said. “Bryaxis is made of nightmares but I am made of dreams.

“Then why do you hide in the shadows?” The question came out of Azriel’s mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He could see his own shadows now, twirling in the darkness as if they were home.

“When we were captured, Bryaxis caused them fear so they were locked below the earth.” Her voice was sadder now, more serious and Azriel found himself hating that. “But I-I caused them…something different than fear. So they kept me locked in their bed chambers for decades, centuries, until I was able to escape. But then I learned those that did not desire me, feared me instead for the same reason. I was either caged or hunted. That is why I hide here.”

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine. His face hardened at what she was implying. The fae who had captured the two Gods had locked one beneath the library and had used the other for…He felt sick to his stomach.

“If you are to help us,” Rhysand spoke, “I can promise you that we have no intention of keeping you locked up at all.”

“I do not trust the fae. Bind your words to magic and perhaps I will help you in return.”

“What is it that you want from us?”

It was silent for a moment, as if she were pondering.

“A place to stay. A place to live. Somewhere safe from being hunted or kept as a prisoner. A chance to live in this world, outside of this cave. To get to experience all that you do. That is what I wish for.”

Azriel knew that wish. Knew it all too well. For it was one he had for years while being locked in his father’s dungeon. So maybe that is why he found himself stepping closer to the cave, found himself unafraid of the darkness that had captured his own shadows.

Maybe that was why those words slipped out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions, before he could be held back by one of his brothers.

“I will promise you that, y/n. I will promise you the opportunity to experience life outside of this cage, outside of the darkness.”

He could feel the heavy stares from his brothers on his back but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look anywhere but that darkness, even though he felt so exposed without his shadows.

Another footstep.

And another.

Until a figure began to emerge from the darkness, finally stepping into the light.

Azriel’s breathed hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.

Because before him now stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The type of beauty only a Goddess could possess. The type of beauty that had his head spinning, had his heart palpitating in his chest.

She smiled and he felt the whole world pause in that moment. It was a sight that would bring any male to his knees. A sight that could start wars.

She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Then I will help you, shadowsinger,” she said.

He mindlessly took her hand in his, shaking it as the sting of magic burned on both of their skin forming a bargain tattoo on the inner wrist. He looked down at it to see what the magic had created out of their promise to each other.

Swirls of shadows with a small lunar moth emerging at the end. A creature that sought light, finally leaving the darkness.

When he met her eyes again, those beautiful expressive eyes, he stumbled back a step. Stumbled as a golden thread unwound itself in his chest and pierced straight through the universe to the female standing before him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The battle lasted thirty-seven days. Koschei was defeated, the females he had spelled were freed. Beron had been exposed for helping him and was killed by Eris finally, bringing a new leader to Autumn.

And things were finally at peace.

“What are these again?”

Your index finger poked at the spongy thing on your plate. It smelled sweet, good. And it was warm to the touch. You glanced up to see the shadowsinger watching you, amused.

“Those are pancakes,” Azriel answered with a chuckle.

“Pancakes,” you repeated, slowly, testing the word on your tongue. “I thought cakes were desserts. Not breakfast.”

“They are a bit different from cake. Made in a pan instead of baked in the oven, hence the name,” Azriel explained.

You hummed in response, taking a bite out of one of the pancakes. “Hm, just as sweet as cake.”

“I might’ve added a bit more sugar than normal to them,” Azriel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To satisfy that raging sweet tooth of yours.”

Your cheeks heated, that ticklish feeling in your stomach came again. A feeling you had never felt before this month and still had yet to make sense of. It made something in your chest ache when you looked at Azriel.

“You made these?”

Azriel nodded. “Someone slept through breakfast with the others.”

Your cheeks turned even redder.

“You should’ve woken me up,” you muttered before stuffing more bits of pancake into your mouth.

“You deserve to rest, y/n.” Azriel was still watching you with that little glint in his eyes. “After everything, you deserve to rest.”

Since coming to Velaris to help with Koschei, Azriel had been the one to show you around, to help you learn the customs of the fae. He had so much patience for you and your endless amounts of questions.

The others had helped you as well, had welcomed you into their home with open arms, but there was just something special about Azriel. You felt some sort of pull towards him. As if the darkness inside of you called to his.

He was beautiful, more than any God or male you’d ever seen before. And beneath his icy exterior, he was sweet and kind. Thoughtful. Witty.

You enjoyed being with the others but you preferred times like this, when it was just the two of you. He was less shy, more at ease, when it was just you. And something about that made you happy.

Seeing him smile, even when it was just the faintest expression, brought you joy like you’ve never felt before.

And Gods, he brought out so many emotions you had not felt in a very long time, some you hadn’t even known you could feel. You had begun to crave his presence. Desire it. You wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you still want to come with me to the city today?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. That’s right, Azriel had cryptically told you he needed to pick something up from Velaris today. When you had asked him what he was getting, he had refused to answer.

“Yes, I would like to.”

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

An hour later, you found yourself in Azriel’s arms, flying down to the city. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how closely he held you, like he was afraid you’d suddenly fall from his arms. You kept your own arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

You still remembered the few hours after the last battle. The showdown with Koschei had left you depleted, covered in wounds, but otherwise okay. Still, Azriel had burst into your tent with panicked eyes and only seemed to be calmed when you had let him tend to you like a mother hen.

You didn’t know what to make of his behavior. But you did know that being in his arms made you feel safe.

“Can we get more of those honey mooncakes on the way back?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the ticklish feeling in your stomach again.

Azriel laughed, his chest rumbling against your body as he tightened his grip on you. “That sweet tooth of yours really is insatiable.”

“I didn’t get to finish mine from last time,” you said in defense for yourself. “Cassian got to them before me!”

“Well, next time tell Cassian to go get his own,” Azriel said. His breath ghosted against the tip of your ear, causing a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I buy them for you, not him.”

Once again, you found yourself with red cheeks and a swelling heart. Ever since he had discovered your sweet tooth, Azriel had a habit of leaving sweet treats out for you. At first, he found it hilarious that a Death Goddess craved pastries of all things. But now he found it just downright adorable.

When the two of you returned to the House of Wind, you found Feyre and Mor waiting for you. You barely got out a small goodbye to Azriel before they were pulling you away, telling you it was time to start getting ready for the night.

Tonight was Starfall. Something you hadn’t seen in centuries. The girls helped you get ready as day turned to dusk and finally night.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Mor giggled, leading all of you out of the room and up to the main balcony. You could already hear the crowd and the music.

You felt nervous as you reached the top, your eyes instantly darting around to find that one person you were always looking for these days.

Azriel stood with Rhysand and Cassian, dressed in all black, finely tailored pants and a matching coat. He looked handsome, yet still beautifully lethal. The darkness and light bounced off the elegant planes of his face, causing his hazel eyes to glow golden.

When he caught sight of you, those eyes widened and you felt them roam your entire body. You’d always hated being looked at in such a way, but not with Azriel. Never with him.

In fact, you found yourself getting heated under his stare.

Rhysand and Cassian moved to their respective mates, leaving you to greet Azriel alone. He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You are stunning,” he whispered. “Absolutely stunning. Happy Starfall.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

Azriel gave you a rare smile that had your heart pounding. You peered at the crowd, watching the faeries enjoying their evening. Azriel stood with you, his fingers brushing against yours in a comforting gesture. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, not when your presence was met with so many stares of both fear and desire.

“What are they doing?” You looked at the crowd of faeries that seemed to all be paired off, moving to the music from the band.

Azriel’s lips twitched, like they always did when you asked him a question like this. “They’re dancing.”

“Dancing,” you repeated. The word sounded familiar, like something you had known in a past life. You had spent so many years in that cave, you had turned into a mere shadow of who you used to be.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel had turned to look down at you, running a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around his wings.

“I don’t think I know how,” you whispered.

He held out his hand to you. “That’s alright. You can follow me lead.”

You bit your lip but decided to take his hand. He had promised you a chance of experiencing the world as it should be. He hadn’t led you astray yet.

He pulled you to the dance floor and you mimicked the other pairs, keeping one hand in his and placing the other on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

The music started up again and Azriel began to lead you through the dance. It was easier than you thought it would be or perhaps he was just a good lead. Still, it wasn’t long before you were smiling and being twirled around in his arms.

You danced like that for a while, basking in the feeling. The soft music, the laughter, the gentle faelights above you. You had never felt so alive. And it was all thanks to the male who held you in his arms.

A slower song came on, some pairs leaving the dance floor. You looked around in question until you realized the pairs who had remained held a more intimate position. You copied them, placing your arms around Azriel’s neck.

Both of his arms wrapped around you now, resting on your lower back.

“Is this okay?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, letting him drag you even closer until your bodies were pressed together. The dress you were wearing was thin and you could feel all of him through it. His hard chest, his sculpted muscles.

Azriel swallowed audibly, swaying you gently to the music. You laid your head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. Every inch of you that touched him was on fire.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel this, embrace it. You’d never felt like this before. So warm and light. It felt like it was just you and him that existed.

That is until you opened your eyes. You suddenly felt overwhelmed as you noticed lingering stares. A lot of them. You felt uncomfortable under the weight of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were feeling before you said anything.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He raised his head, looking around with narrowed eyes. That caused most of them to look away, not wanting to risk the shadowsinger’s wrath.

“Come on,” Azriel whispered. “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private.”

He enveloped you in his shadows until you were stepping out of the darkness and into a rounded alcove somewhere else on the balcony. Vines dangled down from the roof, trailing down the pillars holding it up.

You stepped forward, placing your hands against the stone railing. You could see the crowd below, the one you had just been in. Still hear the music and still see the night sky. You turned to face Azriel.

“Thank you,” you said. “I-I just hate it when they stare. Like I’m some weird creature.”

Azriel stalked forward until he was right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“They don’t stare at you because they think you’re weird,” Azriel replied. “They stare at you because you are beautiful.”

His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat. Your mouth parted to say something but a roar of cheers cut you off. You whirled around to see thousands and thousands of stars beginning to soar through the sky.

Your mouth dropped open. It was more beautiful than you remembered. The stars kept falling and falling, like cascading fireworks. So bright and breathtaking. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your mouth, standing on your tippy toes to lean over the balcony as if you’d be able to reach the stars.

An arm circled your waist and Azriel’s front was pressed against your back as he held onto you.

“Careful,” he whispered in your ear, scared you were going to tip right over the edge and fall down the steep mountain.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, staring up at the stars. “Oh, it’s so much better than I remembered it from all those years ago.”

“It never stops amazing me,” Azriel said. “No matter how many times I watch it.”

You both watched in silence for a little longer, letting the music and laughter and cheers fill the space. Eventually, you turned in his arms, now pressed against the railing.

“Thank you,” you said again, “for bringing me here.”

“Anything for you,” Azriel whispered, raising a hand to rest on your cheek. His eyes were filled with a reverence that stole your breath away.

A brush of magic zipped by in the air and you gasped, raising up your wrist. The tattoo was gone. The bargain had been fulfilled. You had defeated Koschei and Azriel had given you the opportunity to live a life more than you had dreamed. That chance at life was in your hands now.

“The tattoo is gone,” you said, grasping his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

Your eyes widened to see his tattoo still there. The lunar moth emerging from the swirls of shadow.

“Wha—”

“I got it tattooed,” Azriel cut in. “Permanently.”

You glanced up at him in question. “Why?”

“Because I always want a reminder of what I promised you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “What I still promise you, y/n. A life worth living. I want to continue showing you the world, to be there when you experience new things.”

You were speechless. Completely, utterly speechless.

No one had ever shown such devotion to you, such care and love. Your heart swelled up, your chest ached.

“Azriel,” you stuttered out. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I was trapped in the darkness once too. I know what that’s like and I never want you to fall back into it. I don’t need anything from you, just the chance to be there with you while you learn, while you feel.”

Something was building inside of you, building and building until it was ready to break out. You rubbed at your chest, at the unusual feeling.

“I feel this…I feel this thing inside,” You said, gesturing to your chest. “Do you know what this is? Do you know why I feel this way?”

Azriel grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, in the exact same spot yours ached.

“It is the mating bond,” Azriel answered, softly. “I feel it too. Right here. I have since the day I met you.”

His shadows swirled around like they had been waiting for this. You felt your own darkness rise in response until the two had joined together, watching together from the dark crevices.

“A mating bond,” you repeated.

Something snapped the moment you said it out loud. As if a question you had been asking your whole life had finally been answered. A gold thread was woven between the two of you, a beacon of light in the darkness. A place for that moth to call home.

You gasped looking back up at Azriel. Now that you recognized the bond, it grew more taut. You stumbled closer to him, fisting his coat in your hands.

“A mate,” you whispered. “You're my mate. I..I didn’t even know Gods could have mates.”

“Say it again.” Azriel’s voice was as dark as the shadows. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say that I’m your mate again.”

“You’re my mate,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “My mate.”

A quiet whine came from the back of Azriel’s throat that sent heat between your legs. Your eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw clenched. The air around you was charged and you felt like you had been set on fire.

“And you are mine,” Azriel growled. “My mate.”

His possessive tone only made that heat grow. Your lips parted, a small breath leaving your lungs. His eyes glanced down to your lips, hungrily. You gave him the smallest dip of the head, the permission he was waiting for.

Azriel surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled, your backside hitting the stone railing behind you. You met his vigor with your own.

His lips were soft and warm. And his kiss felt like heaven and hell all mixed in one.

He groaned as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head back to give him more access. You yanked him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You never craved someone as much as you craved him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him claim your mouth. His scent was intoxicating, he tasted like pure sin. You could drown yourself in him.

Your hands trailed up from his chest to circle around his neck. His own hands were holding you by the waist, pulling your hips into his. They traveled down your thighs until he was lifting you up, seating you on the stone railing, never pulled away from your kiss.

You parted your legs, letting Azriel step even closer as he finally pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You whimpered at the feeling of his canines grazing the sensitive skin.

His nose traced the column of your throat before he rested his forehead against yours. You were both panting, both completely lost within each other.

“Wait,” Azriel breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I got you something. I don’t want to forget to give it to you.”

Because he would. He would forget his own name as long as the sweet scent of your arousal filled the air. Would forget the whole world existed if you kept staring at him like you were.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket, handing it over to you.

You opened it, gasping at the beautiful ring displayed inside. It was made of gold with a mesmerizing amethyst gem in the shape of a teardrop, accentuated by crescent moons on both sides and tiny stars.

“Azriel,” you breathed out. “This is beautiful.”

A small smile ghosted his lips.

“May I?”

You held out your hand and he pulled the ring out of the box before sliding it onto your ring finger. It was the perfect fit. You admired it, twisting it under the faelights to see the gem glow.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed.

“I had it made just for you,” Azriel said. “It’s what I had to pick up in the city today.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Azriel.”

Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “Just say it again. Tell me you feel this too. I’ve been searching for you for over five hundred years now and I just need to hear you say it. Again and again. Until I can wrap my head around it. Until I realize I’m not dreaming.”

You smiled, lifting up to press a small kiss against his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, at the realization of why exactly the bargain had been fulfilled. You had asked for someplace to be safe, for a home, a chance to live. Azriel was giving you all of that and more.

“You are my mate. And I am yours,” you murmured against his lips. You pulled back to look him in the eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere to call home. Being with you, being in your arms—that feels like home to me, Azriel. The one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none. Of course there was none. You were falling in love with him.

“Does this mean you want it?”

“It means I want you. I want all of you, everything.”

Azriel smiled and the sight nearly blew you away. You giggled as he held you close to him, buried his face in the crook of your neck. He kissed your throat once, twice.

“Then I think we’re due for a long vacation,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew what he was referring to. The frenzy that would come with this. Just that thought alone caused a tantalizing ache between your thighs.

“I think so too,” you whispered back as Azriel pressed kisses up your neck and jaw.

He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze was filled with so much promise, so much love. And then he kissed you again and everything felt right in the world. You were home.

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

[octahyde]

Ok actually one thing that really really bothers me about how widespread people are negatively reacting to the anime just for the fact that anime onlys are going to be in the fandom is like

This is going to make TWST so much more accessible

Like… not everyone can sit down for several hours and read a visual novel. It’s very time and focus intensive. Not everyone can read logs of the dialogue on wikis, either. There are several people who are unable to enjoy this story based solely on medium. A good example is my qpp; he loves TWST. He loves the story. He loves the characters. But he can’t get past Book 3 because the format is completely inaccessible to him. He’s tried. I’ve tried with him. He just… cannot do it. The novels are a godsend because it’s a way he can finally read the story in a format that works for him. The anime will also help a lot because he’ll be able to hear the voice acting, which is a very important part of TWST’s story telling.

Or even just in general, I don’t think I need to post about how I Like Horror, but I am unable to read anything longer than a short story. In particular, I am almost fully unable to read King because of how incompatible his writing style is- despite really wanting to. I have tried and failed to read Pet Sematery more times than I can count. The 80’s movie, though? I love it. It lets me experience a very important work to the genre in ways I would otherwise be completely unable to. Same with Misery.

Like… it’s super frustrating to see people advocate for story accessibility in things like video games, only to turn around and say “except for things I LIKE, they’ll get my favs wrong!!!” Especially when it’s in a fairly inaccessible medium.

I especially have a bone to pick with Idia fans I see on Twitter doing this. There’s a lot of fear “normies” will be ableist about their favorite cartoon character, while… in the process being extremely ableist to actual human beings. It’s extremely frustrating and upsetting to see people prioritize their (heavily mentally disabled, I might add) favorite fictional character over actual irl disabled people. I don’t think people, especially autistic people who can’t do VNs, should be limited from a beautiful story just because other people you can block Might Make Incel Jokes.

(My qpp? He’s autistic. And schizophrenic. And has CPTSD. He relates a LOT to Idia just from what I’ve told him about her and her arc.)

Like… get your fucking priorities straight. I was hyperfixated on Danganronpa when the DR1 anime came out. I was hyperfixated on Persona 4 when the P4 anime came out. Ace Attorney has been one of my absolute favorite series since middle school, and I was going through my obligatory hyperfixation phase I have every few years when the AA anime came out. I massively prefer the YuGiOh manga to the DM anime.

Anime onlys are EXTREMELY easy to avoid and are not the fucking end of the world.

Especially in a fandom with so many autistic people. Have some empathy for disabled people who have different symptoms than you do.