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velarisdusk · 1 month ago

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Breathe Out Your Sorrows

Day 28: Captivity | Azriel x Reader word count: 10k author's note: WHEW. this turned into so much more than i intended but i couldn’t stop writing, i loved this dark, sick azriel. LOVED him. this is part 2 to Breathe In the Quiet, my kinktober day 24 fic! you could prob still read this standalone and be fine though :) warning! there are a lot of really fucked up elements in this one. dub-con, knives, blood (this is not cute knifeplay with tiny cuts, this is an actual dangerous situation), manipulation, uhhh i think those are all the really bad ones ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

The first thing you felt was the cold. Icy, biting, and unrelenting. It seeped into your skin, clawing at your bones, making you shiver uncontrollably. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, lids heavy with exhaustion, and a wave of disorientation hit you like a crashing tide.

You weren’t in the market anymore.

Gone were the warm lights of Velaris, the bustle of the streets, the illusion of safety. Instead, damp stone surrounded you. The faintest glow from a torch flickered in the corner, casting dancing shadows against the rough, uneven walls of the dungeon. The air was thick with the scent of blood and decay, an overwhelming mixture of damp earth and something far more sinister.

Along the walls hung a collection of vicious instruments, as though they were nothing more than decoration—razor-sharp blades, iron clamps, whips with barbed ends, each more sinister than the last. A wooden rack stood in one corner, its handles worn smooth from countless struggles, while a table along the back wall was littered with tools designed for nothing short of pure agony. But the floor was disturbingly clean. No blood, no stains. An unsettling realization, as if the horrors here were scrubbed away with precision, leaving behind only the lingering sense of suffering and dread.

A dull throb pulsed in your skull, each beat growing more insistent. You reached up to soothe the ache, but as you raised your arm, a sharp, cold sting bir into your wrists, yanking it back. Thick iron shackles clamped tight around your wrists and ankles, bolted to the floor, ensured there would be no escape. Despite the restraints, you still managed to touch the side of your head, feeling a warm, sticky wetness beneath your fingers. You pulled your hand away and peered down at it in the dim torchlight.

Blood.

Panic flared instantly, flooding your veins with adrenaline. Your breathing hitched as you tugged desperately at the restraints, the metallic clink of chains echoing through the chamber. The iron was heavy, and with every frantic jerk, they only tightened around your limbs, the cold steel bruising your skin.

Your heart thundered in your chest as your gaze darted around the room, frantic for any sign of an exit, any hope of escape. But there was none. No windows, no door. Only a narrow grate, no wider than your hand, carved into the stone for the thin wisps of smoke curling from the torch. The walls loomed around you, oppressive and unyielding. And then you felt it—the familiar, suffocating weight of being watched.

His presence curled through the room, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t see him yet, but you knew. You knew Azriel was there, lurking just beyond the shadows, watching you struggle.

“Finally awake, little one?”

The voice slithered through the room, smooth and ominous. You froze, your blood running cold as his figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light. Azriel stood there, tall and imposing, his wings partially unfurled behind him, casting long, ominous shadows across the dungeon floor.

He looked like a nightmare come to life. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying in its intensity. He wore a tailored suit, every line of it sharp, perfect. But it was his eyes—those cold, predatory eyes—that pinned you in place. The same eyes that had hunted you, stalked you through the streets of Velaris.

The same eyes that had caught you.

“You look so… delicate like this,” he murmured, his voice a low purr as he stepped closer, the clack of his boots against the stone floor deafening in the otherwise silent room. His shadows curled around him like living creatures, some slipping across the floor to circle you.

You swallowed hard, fear clawing at your throat, but you forced yourself to speak. “Why… why are you doing this?”

Azriel tilted his head, a slow, calculating smile curling on his lips as he crouched in front of you, his face mere inches from yours. His breath ghosted against your skin, sending a wave of cold dread washing over you. “Why?” he echoed, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. “Because I can. Because you’re mine.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you recoiled, trying to hurry back, but the short chains held you in the center of the room, your wrists aching as you strained against them. Azriel’s smile widened, a dark, twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched you struggle.

“I’ve been watching you,” he whispered, his voice a silken caress that felt like poison dripping into your veins. “For so long. Waiting. And now…” He reached out, his fingers tracing a slow line down the side of your face. “Now you’re right where you belong.”

You flinched at his touch, cold against your skin, but there was nowhere to go. No escape. You were trapped. Helpless.

Azriel’s hand moved from your face to your throat, his fingers curling around it, not tight enough to choke but just enough to remind you how small you were compared to him, how weak. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke again, his voice dark and wicked. “You feel it, don’t you? That fear? That delicious, sweet terror that’s running through your veins right now?” Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block him out.

“Look at me!” he bellowed, his voice sharp and dangerous as the hand clenched with terrifying force.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and what you saw made your stomach churn. His eyes were filled with hunger—a deep, insatiable hunger, like a panther poised to pounce on and devour a naive, unsuspecting doe. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your fear, your helplessness.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “It’s racing. You’re terrified, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard but didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The fear had lodged itself in your throat, choking you, paralyzing you.

Azriel’s lips curled into a wicked grin at your silence, and he let out a low, dark chuckle. “Good,” he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure as he pulled away to look you in the eyes. “I like it when you’re scared.”

His hand finally left your throat, and you let out a shaky breath, but it was short-lived.

Azriel stood from his crouched position and circled you slowly, his shadows crawling over your skin, sliding up your arms, wrapping around your legs—until one slipped beneath your dress. You jolted, hands flying to press the fabric between your legs. This only made him chuckle as his shadows merely circled your limbs tighter. His voice was hushed, a dark whisper, like he was savoring this moment, drawing it out just to watch you squirm.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he began, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made your skin crawl. “How many nights I watched you. How many times I imagined this exact moment. You, helpless. Mine.”

He stopped a few paces away from you, his gaze never leaving yours as he rested a hand in his pocket. “I was patient. So patient. Waiting, watching, until the time was right. Gods, you’d always smile at everyone, walk the streets so innocently, so ignorantly. You didn’t have a clue what was going on around you,” his subsequent laugh echoed with something chilling and unhinged. “So many times I’ve had to kill them. Those males who thought they could have you. Creeping toward you in the shadows—my shadows—thinking you were alone. They had no idea I was watching. None of them ever saw me coming.”

Your blood ran cold. No… that couldn’t be true. You would’ve known, right? But you realized with a sickening twist in your gut that there had been moments—those unsettling, unexplained feelings, eyes on your back…

“I was always so close—taking care of you. And you never had any idea.”

His fingers brushed against something in his pocket, and your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him toy with it. “I could’ve taken you anytime. But where’s the fun in that? I wanted you to feel it, to understand your helplessness against someone like me.” His lips curled into a dark smile as he pulled his hand out—slowly, methodically— and held up a necklace. “Now you’ll know. Now, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

He dangled the necklace from a single finger, and a wave of nausea rolled through you when you recognized it. It was the one you’d admired at the market—only now, the gemstones adorning the pendant had been replaced with ones of the deepest blue.

“You were looking at this, weren’t you?” he murmured, lifting the dainty chain slightly to let the light catch on the dark stones. “I went back and bought it for you. Thought I’d make it… better.”

Your stomach twisted as you stared at the necklace, the weight of his obsession sinking in. This wasn’t a gift. This was a symbol of control disguised as one—a mark of ownership.

Azriel’s fingers brushed over the pendant as he knelt before you and fastened the thin chain around your neck, his touch lingering a little too long, a little too intimately. “It suits you,” he whispered, satisfied. “Like it was always meant to be yours.”

His gaze lingered, dark and possessive, and it was painfully clear—he wasn’t just talking about the necklace. The way his eyes gleamed with triumph told you everything. He believed you were meant to be his.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Azriel seemed to sense your defiance, and his smile turned sharp, dangerous. “Oh, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Do you really think you can fight me? Resist me?”

He reached for your chin, tilting your head up to force you to meet his gaze. “I could break you so easily,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender, but the malice behind it was unmistakable. “You’d shatter like glass in my hands, and you’d love every second of it.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you couldn’t conceal the trembling breath that followed. “You feel that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a silken caress that taunted you, that sent a wave of heat pooling in your stomach. “You’re finally beginning to understand just how fragile you are. How the weight of your fate rests in my hands.”

You bit your lip, refusing to respond, refusing to give him what he wanted. But Azriel wasn’t deterred.

“If you submit,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “I might be kind. I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before. The good kind,” he added with a smirk, the warmth not quite reaching his eyes.

You shook your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips, and Azriel’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “Ah,” he said with wonder.

He stood, his shadowy wings unfurling slightly behind him as he towered over you, his presence suffocating. “Don’t worry,” he purred, his voice laced with cruelty. “We have all the time in the world for you to learn your place.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, his words pressing down like a heavy stone. The room seemed to close in around you, the thick shadows at the edges of the chamber whispering as if they were alive.

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice hoarse but defiant, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, dark amusement flickering behind them. “Oh, you still have some fight left in you?” His lips curled into a dangerous smile, his hand moving with deliberate slowness, a wordless assertion of his dominance. “I expected this. I want you to submit. I want you to be my well-behaved little angel. But breaking you is when I get my real fun.”

With a subtle tilt of his head, the shackles clicked open, replaced by his shadows that coiled around you like a vice. They lifted you effortlessly to your feet and pressed you against the cold stone wall, stretching your limbs taut against its unforgiving surface. You squirmed in an attempt to break free, to pull away from the wall, but their icy grip held firm, biting into your skin with a chilling intensity.

“You think you can resist me?” His voice was like velvet, smooth and dark. “Do you think defiance will protect you from what’s coming?”

Your lips parted, a snarl forming, but Azriel was faster. In an instant, he was inches from your face, his hand shooting out to grip your jaw with a bruising hold, forcing your gaze to lock with his. The intensity in his eyes sent your heart racing, a sickening mixture of fear and something else you refused to acknowledge settling deep in your gut.

“I know what you want,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath between you, yet it wrapped around your senses like a noose. "I can feel it—the fear, the rage, the way your body responds to me, even when your mind screams at you to fight." His thumb pressed against your lower lip, forcing it to part as his grip tightened. "Tell me... do you hate me for making you feel this way?"

Your breath hitched, the words catching in your throat. You wanted to scream at him, curse him for the torment, for the twisted thrill that pulsed through your veins despite yourself. But he gave you no time to respond before he released your jaw, his hand sliding down your throat to the delicate chain resting there.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he continued, his voice thick with condescension as his fingers ghosted over your collarbone, trailing the elegant fabric of your dress that clung to your form. “But I’m going to get you to say it, one way or another.”

He stepped back, his wings casting dark shadows across the room as he moved with an unsettling grace. The tension built, thick and suffocating, as his hands came to rest on the waistband of his leathers. His gaze never left yours, a cruel spark igniting in the depths of his eyes as he undid the ties with deliberate slowness.

"I could break you," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. "It wouldn’t take much. Some pain, just a touch of pleasure." You felt the burn of humiliation bloom on your cheeks, your pulse hammering wildly in your ears as you caught sight of the sizeable bulge forming beneath his pants. "I could have you begging in no time. Soon enough, you’ll forget what it felt like to resist."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the panic that rose in your chest. You wanted to scream at him, to lash out, but your body betrayed you. A shiver sparked at your core, unwelcome and traitorous, tangled with the terror gripping your heart.

Azriel noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"See?" His voice was a dark purr, and he took a step closer, his body nearly flush with yours. "I don’t even have to touch you to get this reaction. You can hate me all you want, but your body… your body already knows who it belongs to."

“Fuck… you,” you managed to bite out, the tremor in your voice betraying the very defiance you clung to.

Azriel’s hands shot out, grabbing the fabric of your dress and tearing it effortlessly, the soft material falling away like paper. A sharp gasp escaped you as the cold air hit your bare skin, and you instinctively pulled back, only for the frigid wall behind you to meet your skin, as cold and unyielding as the look in his eyes.

“Oh, I think that’s exactly what you want,” he growled, his hand tracing the curve of your waist, the lightness of his touch mocking the brutality he’d just shown. “But I’m not going to make it that easy for you, angel.”

His shadows slithered across your exposed skin, cool and teasing, as they wound around your thighs and waist, keeping you completely at his mercy. With a fluid motion, Azriel shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it aside. You couldn’t focus on how he managed it, what with the wings; all that mattered was how good he looked, the crisp white dress shirt clinging to his muscular frame. As he rolled up the sleeves, revealing his forearms, your breath hitched. The taut skin, adorned with swirling tattoos, made your pulse race, a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you. Azriel leaned in, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his voice turned dark, a silken whisper tainted with cruelty.

“You’re going to beg for it,” he murmured. “And when you do, I’ll decide whether or not you’ve earned it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the stubborn fire in your eyes flickering back to life despite the overwhelming fear gripping you. “I’ll never beg,” you hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at him with all the fury you could muster. “Not for you. Not for anything.”

Azriel’s smirk widened, amusement dancing in his gaze. He straightened, his enormous wings flaring behind him as he studied you with a predatory glint, as though your refusal was nothing more than a trivial obstacle he intended to crush.

“Oh, angel…” He purred. The shadows around him thickened, swirling like smoke, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop, a chill creeping up your spine. Azriel stepped back, his fingers flexing at his sides before one hand slowly reached for the hilt on his thigh. “You’ll be begging,” he continued, his tone colder now, devoid of any false gentleness. His hand curled around the handle of a sleek, dark blade, glinting ominously in the low light as he pulled it free. “You will. You’ll beg me to fuck you if only to end the torment I’m about to put you through.”

Your heart stopped at the sight of the blade, its edge sharp enough to gleam even in the dim dungeon light. You fought to maintain your composure, but the icy grip of dread was tightening around your throat.

Azriel twirled the dagger in his hand with ease, the weapon seeming to pulse with the same lethal energy as its wielder. His eyes sparkled with sadistic delight as he held the blade, admired it. “This,” he said, his voice a whisper of silk and steel, “is Truth-Teller. Her name suits her well. She has a reputation for exposing secrets—cutting through lies to reveal what lies beneath.”

He stepped closer, the dagger’s dark metal almost shimmering with a life of its own. You swallowed hard.

“Still so sure of yourself?” he mocked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Still think you won’t break, angel?” He stopped just ahead of you, the tip of Truth-Teller coming to rest under your chin, tilting your head up with a featherlight touch that belied the threat behind it.

“I’ve broken countless souls—people stronger, more stubborn than you.” His smile was cruel, the sharp edge of his sadism glinting in his gaze. “You’ll be no different.”

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your pulse roaring in your ears as the cold steel kissed the skin beneath your jaw. You wanted to fight back, to scream, but the primal instinct of survival kept you frozen in place.

Azriel leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Where should I start?”

And without warning, he pressed the blade against the side of your neck, just enough to let the edge bite into your skin. A sharp, stinging pain flared as the first drop of blood trickled down your throat. You gasped, your body tensing, but Azriel’s shadows held you fast, refusing to let you move even as the blade moved lower, tracing a slow path along your collarbone.

“You’ll never beg, hm?” he mused aloud. Your mind raced, a storm of panic and adrenaline flooding your senses as the blade dipped lower, grazing the delicate skin of your chest. The shadows around your wrists tightened yet again, your fingers tingling with numbness.

“Azriel—” you gasped, your voice trembling with fear and rage, but he only smiled.

“As much as I love the sound of my name on your tongue… Beg,” he demanded, the word sharp and cold as the blade’s edge.

“I won’t,” you spat, even as the tears burned at the corners of your eyes. “I won’t give you the satisfaction, you sick bastard.”

His gaze intensified, a storm of fury and sadistic pleasure swirling within their depths. “You will.”

Azriel held your gaze as he slid the dagger’s handle between his teeth in a chilling display of confidence. The blade glinted ominously as he leaned closer. With a swift movement, he reached for the delicate fabric of your bra. The sound of tearing echoed in the dim space, sharp and final, as he pulled it apart. You gasped, shock and humiliation flooding your senses as you watched it fall to the ground. His hands moved down to your underwear, and with the same brutal efficiency, he tore it away—leaving your dignity in shreds along with it.

The chill of the air against your most sensitive skin only heightened the horror of the situation, but Azriel wasn’t done. He grabbed the dagger and stepped back slightly, his wings creating a dark silhouette behind him as he admired you with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Still so stubborn.” He traced the blade across your abdomen now, a thin red line left in its wake. “A shame, really. All this pride, and no one here to see it stripped away.” He pressed the tip of the dagger into your side, just enough to draw blood, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your throat.

“There it is,” Azriel groaned, his tone full of sick pleasure. “I love the pretty little sounds you make.” Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your mind spinning as he pulled the dagger away, your blood staining its dark edge. Vision blurring with tears, the fear and pain radiating through you overwhelmed your senses. You fought against the sob that threatened to escape, biting your lip until you tasted blood, but Azriel was relentless.

He stood flush against you now, his dark wings curling protectively around the both of you, creating an intimate cocoon as he raised the blade once more.

"You can stop this," he whispered, his tone almost gentle as if he were offering you salvation. "All you have to do is beg me. Say it. Tell me what I want to hear."

Your body trembled, every fiber of your being screaming at you to give in, to make the pain stop before it got worse. But even as your eyes stung, even as your heart raced with terror, you clenched your jaw, forcing the words past your lips.

“Go… to hell.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “Oh, angel,” he purred, his hand caressing your cheek in mock affection. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

In an instant, he thrust Truth-Teller into your thigh, the pain exploding through you like a lightning strike. A choked scream tore from your lips as the cold steel pierced your flesh, a searing heat radiating from the wound. The shock sent your vision spiraling, the world around you dimming as you fought against the pain that clawed at your senses. Glancing down, you saw the dagger embedded shallowly, crimson oozing from the wound and trickling down your leg. You desperately hoped it hadn’t struck anything vital; he likely wouldn’t want to kill you—not yet. Dragging this out seemed far more his style. When he pulled the dagger out, more blood trickled down your leg, the warmth mixing with the sharp agony and flooding your body with a dizzying rush.

Azriel watched you with a dark satisfaction, his gaze never leaving yours as you writhed against the restraints, your body trembling. He leaned in closer, the dagger still gleaming with your blood.

“There it is,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for.”

The agony radiated through you, a white-hot flame that ignited every nerve ending. You gasped for breath, trying to steady yourself against the sharp edge of the pain, but Azriel’s presence only deepened the ache. You gritted your teeth, refusing to show any further weakness. But as the pain began to ebb, something else took hold—an unsettling awareness of him, the predatory gleam in his eyes igniting a twisted sense of anticipation.

With a twisted smile, he pressed the blade lightly against your lips, enjoying the way you instinctively recoiled. “Let’s make this a bit more personal, shall we?” he taunted. “Open up for me.”

You hesitated, but the cruel glint in his eyes forced your mouth open. He wiped the blade clean on your tongue, dragging it along the moist surface before pulling it away, leaving you to taste the metallic sting of your own blood.

“Look at you,” he purred, his voice thick with amusement as his hand slid between your thighs, close but not quite touching. “Trying so hard to resist me. But I bet you’re dripping for me already. If I checked right now, you’d just soak my fingers, wouldn’t you?” His thumb grazed the sensitive skin near your core, and your hips jerked involuntarily, a choked sound escaping your throat before you could stop it, and Azriel’s dark laugh sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

“Oh, don’t be ashamed,” he taunted, pressing his thumb against your clit now, circling slowly, torturously. “You can’t help it. You want this—you want me. As much as you hate it, your body knows what it wants.”

You couldn’t help the desperate whimper that escaped your lips, the humiliation of it sending a flush of heat through your cheeks. You hated him for this, for kidnapping you, for torturing you, for stabbing you; for turning your own body against you, for making you want him even when every fiber of your being screamed that this was wrong.

But that was the worst part—you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want the game to end.

Azriel’s lips ghosted over your throat, his shadows slithering their way up your arms and legs, wrapping around you like a dark caress. “I told you,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk, “I’ll break you. And when I do, you’ll thank me for it.”

His hand slipped lower, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from your throat as he finally plunged his fingers deep inside you with cruel precision. You arched against him, the pleasure overwhelming, but he wasn’t gentle. His pace was brutal and relentless, and you were caught between the pain and the pleasure, your body trembling as you fought against the wave crashing over you.

“Azriel—” His name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, and you saw the dark gleam of victory in his golden eyes as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear.

“That’s it, angel,” he whispered, histone one of dark satisfaction. “Say my name. Let me hear you beg for more.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him that satisfaction again. But he only laughed, the sound dark and twisted, as he pulled his fingers away just as you grew accustomed to them.

“You ignoring me now?” he growled, gripping your chin to force your gaze back to him. The scent of your arousal lingered on his fingers and ebbed through the room.

A twisted grin crept onto his lips, and you could see the darkness swirling in his eyes. “You want me to get a bigger knife?” he taunted, letting the question linger in the air, heavy and menacing.

“No, no, no!” The words escaped your lips in a frantic rush, panic flooding your veins. “Please, Azriel, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he interrupted, his tone dripping with mockery. “Don’t give you what you deserve? You think I’m being too cruel? You asked for this, angel. You put yourself in my hands.”

“I didn’t put myself anywhere!” you screamed, your voice breaking under the weight of your rage and fear and pain. “You stole me away! This isn’t my choice, it’s yours!”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, his grin vanishing as something colder, sharper settled over his expression. His grip on your chin tightened. “Choice?” he echoed, voice soft but filled with venom. “You think you’d choose anything different if you knew what was good for you?”

He leaned closer, his gaze holding yours captive, his breath brushing your cheek. “You’ve belonged to me far longer than you realize, angel. There’s no choice in that—no escape.” His fingers traced along your jaw, deceptively gentle, before he wiped his slick fingers clean across your lips and cheeks, smearing it on your skin.

“Keep telling yourself this isn’t what you want,” he murmured, turning away from you, the hint of a challenge in his voice. “I’ll go all the way back to Velaris for a few days, take care of some things. It should give you some time to think things over. How’s that sound?”

All the way back to Velaris. The words echoed in your mind, sinking like stones in your stomach. He’d brought you far enough that he was confident that not a soul would come looking. The High Lord couldn’t have sent for this. He couldn’t know. What would he say if he did? What would he do if he realized that one of his most trusted had taken a civilian, had hidden her away in some forsaken cell beyond reach, beyond hope? All for what—so he could use and abuse you?

“A little quiet now, hm? What’s wrong, angel?” he called over his shoulder, his tone almost casual as he fastened his pants back up.

“...Don’t go…” The words slipped from your lips, barely more than a whisper, fragile and small. You didn’t want him to leave you here alone, hurt and bleeding. The thought of being abandoned in this cold, dark place twisted your insides with fear. What if he didn’t come back? What if you were left to suffer without food or water, trapped in silence with your pain?

Azriel paused mid-step, a smirk playing at his lips as he turned to face you, his eyes glinting with delight. “What was that?” His voice was low and smooth, wrapping around you like a shroud.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. “...Don’t go,” the plea escaped you, trembling with desperation.

His smile widened, satisfaction radiating from him as he stepped closer, invading your space. “Oh? A sudden change of heart…” His tone dripped with mockery, and he leaned in, his gaze piercing. “You want me to stay? You’d rather have me keep hurting you than be alone?”

You held your breath, heart racing as you struggled to take your mind off the wound in your thigh. “I—I just…” You couldn’t find the words, your mind a whirlpool of fear and longing.

“You’re helpless without me,” he continued. “Lost, just a little thing waiting for someone to take care of you. Who else would keep you company, hm? Who else would make sure you’re protected and safe?”

“I don’t want you to hurt me anymore,” you choked out against your dry throat, desperation coating each word. “You’ve made your point. Just don’t leave me here. I can’t… I can’t be alone like this.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “Are you sure? You sure you don’t need me to hurt you some more to knock some sense into you?” He casually placed his hand back on the hilt of his dagger, a glint of menace in his eyes.

Your heart plummeted, a heavy stone of dread sinking into your chest as you registered his movement. Panic surged through your veins like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending. You thrashed against the restraints, your breath quickening, pulling against the shadows as you fought for release. “No, no! Please, don’t do it!” The words came out as a desperate wail, raw and fractured, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grappled with the overwhelming fear of what was to come. “I can’t—please! I’ll do anything! Just don’t hurt me again!”

He stepped closer, cradling your face with his hand, his thumb brushing away your tears with a disarming tenderness that twisted your insides. “Easy now, angel. Calm down. It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice a soft lullaby laced with a dark undercurrent that made your heart race in terror and confusion. “You’re safe with me.”

As he spoke, his warmth enveloped you, a strange comfort that made your breathing steady, even as dread coiled in your stomach. You fought against the whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the truth of his words.

“Now, if you don’t want me to hurt you,” he said, his tone honeyed, “you’ll have to tell me what you do want.”

You hesitated, a lump of shame and fear forming in your throat. “I want… to be left alone. I want you to let me go.”

He shook his head slowly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re lying. The smell of your arousal has been thick in this room since you woke up.” His gaze bore into yours, challenging you to deny the truth.

“Tell me again, what do you want?” he pressed, his tone deceptively sweet.

You swallowed hard, the truth clawing its way to the surface, a torrent of shame and desperate longing. “I want you to touch me.”

His grip on your jaw tightened, rough and possessive, holding you in place as he leaned in closer. “Now, that’s not how you ask for things, is it?”

“Please…” The word fell from your lips, fragile and yearning, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the monster before you.

“Try again,” he urged, eyes dark with hunger, his anticipation palpable in the air between you.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice trembling. “I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me.”

With each plea, the desperation clawed at your insides. Maybe if you just told him what he wanted to hear… “I want your hands on my skin,” you gasped, shame mingling with need. “I want you to make me feel good—please, Azriel.”

“Please, I need you,” you cried, your voice cracking. “I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to make me feel good. I want you to use me, to claim me.”

“Make me yours,” you begged, each word spilling out in a desperate rush of heat as you struggled against the shadows binding your arms away from him. “I want to feel you, every inch of you. Please, just touch me, fill me up… I want to be yours, completely.”

A heavy silence enveloped you, the air thick with tension as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Time stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity, and your heart raced, dread and anticipation swirling within you. Just when you thought you might break under his gaze, he spoke, his voice laced with wonder.

“I knew you’d come around,” he said, a dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I always knew you were a smart girl.”

With that, his hands descended, fingers brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness, teasing the edges of your vulnerability. He traced the outline of your breasts, his touch both electrifying and infuriating, each caress igniting a fire within you. You arched your back instinctively, desperate for more, but he only chuckled, enjoying the game.

“Tell me, angel,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, “how do you want to feel? What do you want me to do?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, trapped by the heat coursing through you.

A flicker of impatience crossed his face, and in an instant, his hand connected with your cunt, a sharp slap that sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure through you. “Answer me,” he demanded, voice sharp and commanding.

“Please, Azriel!” you gasped, urgency flooding your voice. “I want you to touch me, to make me feel everything.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers now exploring, slipping between your thighs, brushing against your slick folds. His touch was both gentle and ruthless, a dance of pleasure that made your heart pound. He took his time, reveling in the way your body responded to him, the way you quivered under his touch.

His fingers played with your clit, circling and teasing, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. “Feel that? This is what you wanted all along.” He watched you intently, his gaze drinking in every reaction, every twitch of your body.

“Now tell me again,” he coaxed, pressing deeper, his fingers sinking into you, “what do you want?”

Your voice failed you as a loud, throaty moan pushed past your lips instead.

“Beautiful, but not quite what I’m looking for,” he said, his tone mocking as he delivered another sharp slap to your sensitive heat, making you cry out. “I need to hear you say it. What do you want, my angel?”

“I want to feel you inside me!” you sobbed, the words spilling out in a rush. “Please, Azriel, I want you to fuck me!”

“There you go,” he murmured, a smile more beautiful than eerie spreading across his face—the first like it that you’d seen from him. His fingers curled inside you, coaxing and pushing you closer to the edge. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as your foreheads met, neither of you looking away from the other for a moment. The intensity of his gaze anchored you, making every pulse of sensation feel more profound, more consuming.

He pumped his fingers into you with a brutal urgency, each thrust deep and unyielding. The force of his movements sent shockwaves through your body, the slick sound of his fingers pumping into you filled the air, drowning out your whimpers and gasps as he worked you.

Azriel added a third finger, the sensation igniting a fire in your core that was impossible to ignore. His fingertips pressed against that sensitive spot deep inside, hitting it with punishing precision that made you gasp and writhe.

“Look at you,” he growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he watched your face contort between pleasure and pain. “So eager for it, so ready to fall apart for me.” He quickened the pace, fingers jackhammering in and out of you, but it was his words that pushed you over the edge. A wave of heat surged through you, igniting every nerve ending with a ferocity that eclipsed the sharp ache in your leg. Your body clenched around his fingers, a pulsing rhythm that felt primal and consuming.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and sardonic as he watched you come down from your high. “Oh, sweet girl,” he tutted, amusement in his eyes. “You’ll learn not to cum without my permission, don’t worry. I’ll be here to train you, we’ll have plenty of time to go over all my rules.”

His words washed over you like a distant echo, the remnants of your climax still vibrating through your body. All you could think about was how you wanted—needed—to touch him, to feel him against your skin. You squirmed against the shadows, desperation clawing at you as you met his gaze, wide and pleading. “Please… can I touch you?”

He leaned in with a predatory glint in his eyes. “Oh, you want to touch me, do you?” The way he said it was almost a taunt, and your heart raced at the thought of being freed from your restraints.

“Yes! Please, I need to feel you.” Your voice was thick with desperation, the aching longing for him driving every word. “Just let me… I promise I’ll be good.”

He regarded you for a long moment, the air between you thick with tension. Finally, he leaned back slightly, fingers still curled around the back of your neck, and considered your request. “If I let you, you have to promise to follow my lead, to obey. One step out of line and it’s right back–”

You nodded fervently, heat filling you once more at the idea of being able to touch him. “I promise! I’ll do whatever you say.”

His gaze locked onto yours, the predatory glint in his eyes making your heart race as he weighed your request. The silence stretched between you, heavy with anticipation. Finally, he made his decision, a smirk ghosting over his lips. With a flick of his wrist, the shadows binding you retreated, and you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding your senses. But before you could fully regain your balance, he caught you, his strength effortlessly cradling you against him as your injured leg buckled beneath you.

“Easy there,” he murmured, his voice mellow. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the table against the far wall. The shadows surged around him, sweeping aside the array of wicked instruments scattered across its surface, clearing the space just for you. With a gentle yet firm motion, he laid you down, the coolness of the surface contrasting sharply against the heat radiating from your skin.

He climbed over you, his body a delicious weight, as he closed the distance between you. The first brush of his lips against yours ignited a wildfire of sensations, overwhelming you in a rush of heat and longing. He kissed you with a hunger that felt almost desperate, devouring you with a need that matched your own. His mouth moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the taste of your lips.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “I can still taste you.”

From when he wiped his fingers over your mouth earlier, you realized. With that, he pulled away and off the table, his dark eyes glimmering with satisfaction. Azriel pulled you closer to the edge of the table, wrapping your legs around his head with a possessive grip.

He wasted no time, his mouth on you like a starved male. His tongue flicked and danced, eager to taste you, and you gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. The warmth of his mouth enveloped you, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your core. He licked with fervor, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulled you closer, encouraging you to let go, to surrender completely to the ecstasy he was offering.

Every flick of his tongue, every hungry suck sent your mind spiraling, drowning in a sea of pleasure and need. The world around you faded, leaving only the intense sensations as he feasted on you, the sound of your pleasure echoing off the cold stone walls.

“Azriel…” you gasped, the name escaping your lips like a prayer, urging him on as you pressed your body closer to him, craving more, needing more. His name continued to fall from your lips like a desperate plea, each syllable laced with urgency as he continued his relentless assault. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the overwhelming pleasure almost blinding. His mouth worked with an insatiable hunger, devouring you with every flick and thrust of his tongue.

The sensations were electrifying, the way he alternated between teasing and consuming you. He knew exactly how to draw out your pleasure, his tongue dancing against you with skillful precision, making you writhe beneath him. You could hardly focus on anything else, each pull and lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, muffling the pain from your stab wound into a dull throb.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly against your skin. “So responsive. So eager for more.” His breath was hot against you, the sound of his satisfaction fueling your desire even further.

“Please,” you begged, your voice full of desperation and need. “I can’t… I can’t hold on much longer.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich with satisfaction, and the vibration sent shivers coursing through you. “Good. I want you to let go.” His words ignited a fire deep within you, pushing you closer to the precipice.

Just as the tension peaked, the sensation reached a fever pitch, he pulled back slightly, leaving you teetering on the brink. “What’s wrong? Can’t you take it?” His eyes sparkled with wicked delight, and his face glistened with your arousal.

“Azriel! Don’t stop—please, just don’t stop!” You thrashed against the table, the need clawing at you, the ache for release nearly unbearable.

He smirked, the dark glimmer in his eyes promising more. “That’s better. But you know the rules now. You have to ask nicely.”

“Please, please… I need to cum,” you whimpered, your hands threading through his hair, desperate for his touch. “I want to feel you make me cum. I need you, Azriel. Please, can I cum?”

His fingers gripped your thighs even tighter, pressing down just enough to keep you from squirming. “Such a good girl,” he cooed, and with a wicked grin, he dove back in, his mouth devouring you once more. The combination of his roughness and your desperate need for release was intoxicating, and you felt the pressure build within you again, faster this time, more intense.

As he continued his relentless ministrations, the world around you faded into a blur. You could feel the walls closing in, the sensation of the table beneath you fading into insignificance as you focused solely on him, on the way his mouth worked against you, pulling you back to that dizzying height of pleasure.

Then, without warning, he pulled away again, leaving you gasping and trembling, the edge tantalizingly out of reach. “Not yet,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he watched you writhe in frustration.

“Why are you doing this?” you cried, the frustration mingling with need, desperate tears prickling at your eyes.

“Because, angel,” he replied languidly, “you need to learn patience. And how to ask for what you want.”

Your heart raced, every fiber of your being screaming for release as you met his gaze, desperation clawing at your insides. You could feel the weight of his dark satisfaction pressing down on you, but beneath that, there was a flicker of hope. Maybe if you asked just right…

“Azriel…” you breathed, your voice soft and trembling. “Please… I want to feel you inside me. I need to cum so badly. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” You let the sweetness of your tone wrap around your words, pouring all your need into that one plea. “Just let me cum, please. I need to feel that pleasure with you. I want you, all of you.”

He paused, his expression shifting as he seemed to consider your request. The intensity of his gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world outside faded into oblivion. “Such a sweet little thing,” he mused, and the praise sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

“Please,” you whispered again, your voice barely more than a breath. “Let me cum. I promise I’ll be good.”

The moment hung heavy in the air, charged with unspoken promises and desires. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he nodded. “I know what you’re doing, angel, using your words so sweetly like that. But I think you’ve earned it.”

With a swift, fluid motion, he buried his mouth against you once more, his tongue working with renewed intensity as he coaxed your pleasure to the forefront. The tension built rapidly, spiraling out of control as your body instinctively moved against him, chasing that elusive high.

“Yes! Just like that!” you gasped, every nerve ending alight as he pushed you closer to the edge, his fingers burying themselves into you with a fervor that left you breathless. The world narrowed down to the sensation of him, of the way he moved and the heat building within you.

And then, with a sharp, electrifying pull, the dam broke. Pleasure washed over you in a wild, chaotic wave, crashing against your senses as you cried out his name. Your body shuddered, the culmination of all your need flooding through you, eclipsing everything else until there was nothing but the sweet release and the aching satisfaction that followed.

As the last ripples of your orgasm faded, you were left breathless and trembling, the heat still coursing through your veins. But Azriel wasn’t finished. He pulled back, a wicked smile curling at his lips, his gaze dark and hungry as he climbed over you, positioning himself between your legs.

“Now that you’re warmed up,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “let’s see how well you can take me.”

As the last ripples of your orgasm faded, you were left breathless and trembling, the heat still coursing through your veins. But Azriel wasn’t finished. He leaned back, a wicked smile curling at his lips, his gaze dark and hungry as he slowly began to undress.

First, he kicked off his shoes, the soft thud echoing in the silence. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him as he moved, the muscles in his legs shifting beneath the fabric of his pants. He took care in unbuttoning his dress shirt, each click of the buttons amplifying the anticipation thrumming in the air.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. His chest was sculpted, muscles taut and defined, each movement revealing the intricate patterns of tattoos that snaked over his shoulders and down his arms. The sharp angles of his physique made you ache with want, your gaze lingering on the way the light danced across his skin.

As he peeled away the shirt and tossed it aside, he moved to his pants, unzipping them with a languid grace. The fabric slipped down his hips, revealing the strong contours of his thighs. You felt your pulse quicken, heart racing as your eyes finally landed on the impressive sight of him, bare and completely unrestrained. His sheer size stole your breath, a wave of longing washing over you as you imagined how he would fill you.

You felt a rush of excitement and fear as he climbed over you and aligned himself, the heat radiating between your bodies igniting your skin.

With a low growl, Azriel pressed forward, pushing the tip of himself into you, already stretching you more than you were used to. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, pleasure mixing with discomfort as your body struggled to accommodate him. He pulled back slightly, teasing you, as if savoring the tension.

“Easy now,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “you’ll get used to it.” With each slow push, he sank deeper, relentless and rough, forcing you to adjust to his size, leaving you gasping and craving more. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of ecstasy and pain as he filled you, inch by agonizing inch.

Finally, with a deep, powerful thrust, he bottomed out, burying himself fully inside you. The stretch was almost unbearable, a burning sensation that made you feel both full and utterly consumed. Your body clenched around him instinctively, desperate to accommodate the fullness he brought.

“Look at you,” he breathed, voice low and thick with satisfaction, “taking me like a good girl.” His hips rolled, pressing deeper, and you moaned involuntarily, the mixture of pleasure and pain making your head spin. “I knew you’d love this,” he continued, eyes glinting with a wicked delight. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

As he began to thrust, each movement was deliberate, the rhythm punishing. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips, anchoring you in place. He punctuated his words with another deep thrust, your body responding to his dominance, the sensation igniting a fire deep within you. “Now tell me how much you love it,” he demanded, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with authority. “Say it, angel. Tell me you’re mine.”

As he filled you completely, your body began to adjust, each thrust pushing you further into a haze of pleasure. You met his gaze, the defiance in your eyes having burnt out long ago. “I’m—I’m yours,” you replied breathlessly.

Azriel thrust harder, forcing a moan from you. “You’ll learn to love this, to love being mine.” His voice dripped with arrogance, and you hated how much you wanted to agree. “See how easy this is? Just give in and let me take care of you.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, filling you to the hilt, and your body began to instinctively arch against him, craving every rough, delicious inch. “You feel that?” he taunted, his voice thick with pleasure. “You were made for me, for this. You’ll come to crave it, just as I do.”

“Azriel…” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. He pulled back, almost all the way out, just to plunge back in, the force of him making your breath hitch.

Azriel's voice dropped to a low growl as he continued to thrust into you, each movement powerful and precise. “You’re going to learn what it means to truly belong to someone, to be mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Every inch of you will be devoted to me, and I’ll teach you how to crave my touch.”

“Please,” you breathed, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ll see, angel. From now on, every moment of your life will revolve around my needs and desires. You’ll wake up thinking of me, and when you’re not with me, you’ll ache for me.” He thrust deeper, punctuating his words with each deliberate movement. “You’ll be begging for my attention, begging for me to touch you, and you’ll learn to love every second of it.”

You could feel the heat pooling within you, the way his words curled around your mind, mixing with the sensations he was drawing out of you. “But what if I don’t?” you challenged, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and need.

His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity. “Oh, you will. If you don’t learn to beg for what you want, I'll make sure you experience pain in ways you can’t imagine. Trust me,” he added, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, “if you refuse to submit, I’ll make you wish you had. It won’t take long for you to want to please me.”

Your eyes widened at the thought, but you couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at his words. “I do want to please you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, filled with an eagerness you couldn’t hide.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “But first, you need to say it. Say you want me to take care of you.”

“I want you to take care of me,” you murmured after a beat, the confession spilling from your lips as your body responded eagerly to his dominance.

“Now thank me for saving you. Thank me for rescuing you from that sad, miserable life you were living,” he said, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to thrust into you, his hair tousled and damp, clinging to his forehead with sweat.

You swallowed hard, the words heavy on your tongue. “Thank you for saving me, Azriel. Thank you for making my life worth living.”

“See? It’s not so hard to submit, is it?” he taunted, thrusting deeper once more, making you curse as he filled you completely. “You’re going to love every moment, and I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.” He looped a finger around the necklace he bought you, eyeing you as though you were a prized possession.

He continued to thrust into you, each movement rhythmic and relentless, his hands gripping your hips, holding you firmly in place. “You’ll learn to follow my rules, to understand your place,” he said, his voice a seductive murmur. “And in return, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. All you have to do is let go.”

“Let go,” you echoed, the words hanging between you, filled with promise and danger.

“That’s right,” he urged, pulling your legs over his shoulders in a mating press as his thrusts grew more powerful. His gaze locked onto yours, daring you to surrender completely. “Let go, angel. Give yourself to me. Show me how much you crave this.”

Your body trembled with a surge of need as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I need you, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice raw with desire. You rocked your hips up to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, desperate to take him deeper. Your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on. “Fill me, Azriel. Make me yours. I want to feel you everywhere,” you begged, the intensity of your words surprising you.

You kissed him fiercely, your lips crashing against his, tasting the salt of his sweat. Your tongue darted out, meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth, the vibrations traveling through both of you. Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him in place as you moved together, the friction building into an unbearable heat. “I’m yours,” you panted, your voice breaking with the weight of your admission. “Only yours.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction, and he growled in approval, his movements growing even more demanding. “That’s it, angel. Show me how much you need this. Show me how much you need me,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.

Your head fell back against the table as you surrendered completely, giving yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. “I need you, Azriel. I need you so much,” you cried out, your body shuddering as you reached your peak, every nerve ending on fire.

As you came apart beneath him, you clung to him desperately. He continued to thrust, his pace relentless and punishing. “I’m going to make this pretty pussy mine,” he growled, his voice low and feral. “Gonna pound you whenever I want, and you’re going to fucking beg me not to stop.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw dominance in his tone sending shivers down your spine. “Please, Azriel,” you whimpered, your body arching into him.

He smirked, his eyes blazing with possessive fire. “You’re going to learn to love every second of it, to crave it,” he said, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his control slipping. “Every second of the day. You’ll be begging for my attention, begging for me to fuck you, and I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his release hitting hard as he groaned your name. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. “Always.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @anarchiii

@randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex @fourthwing4ever

#kinktober #acotar #acotar smut #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut

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mushimatsu · 4 months ago

Text

I found the full versions of the job apps from this post! This was a collab with the restaurant chain Sukiya, so that's where the job app is for! Pictures from this blog post here!

Translation under the cut

Osomatsu:

Academic background/work experience (include relevant experience):

(dates left blank) NEET, factory job, Chinese food restaurant, etc Anyway I have experience with a lotta stuff! And more

About yourself:

Gyuudon! I can eat a lot of it! Beer! (something crossed out) I can drink a lot of it!

Hobbies/Skills:

Horse racing, pachinko, all kinds of gambling!

Reason for your application:

Because I think I could eat a lot of gyuudon. And because I think a pork bowl made with a brand new model of charcoal grill would be tasty!

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (he left this blank and just put an x through Monday, Saturday, and Sunday)

Other requests:

I’d like to immediately take off days where a machine is being replaced, store remodeling days, and horse race days!

What days would you prefer to work?: (left blank)

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank) How long can you work for?: (left blank)

Karamatsu:

(in the furigana section where you're supposed to write the pronunciation of your name he wrote it in English instead of hiragana)

Phone Number: Secret (it's so important to tell you that he wrote "secret" as the English word in katakana, and not the Japanese word for secret)

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Theater Completed curriculum at Hybrid Oden cart (Hybrid misspelled as Hybrit) And more

About yourself:

When I take the stage called Sukiya... After that... Who knows...

(sorry if this is incorrect idk how the fuck to translate what he said. hate his ass /j)

Hobbies/Skills:

I can sing while playing guitar, and more...

Reason for your application:

Gyuudon, butadon, curry... Because your menu calls to me...

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

I'm not tied down to anyone...

What days would you prefer to work?:

What a foolish question...

How many hours would you like to work a day?:

I'm not tied down to any time...

How long can you work for?:

How many times do I have to tell you...

Choromatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Totoko-chan's manager Worked at father's friend's company And more

About yourself:

Personally, I would benefit from your company's management policy, so I think I can achieve results while working remotely. The other day, all my brothers caught a cold, but I was busy making content as a small influencer!*

Hobbies/Skills:

Kanji certification level 6, English certification level 6. Thank you very much.

Reason for your application:

Sukiya would benefit from an entrepreneur and marketing and advertising specialist with a concise plan to make KPIs a priority activity. Boosting conversions** can create solutions for Sukiya through engagement. Gyuudon benefits will surely create profit. Assign buffers and launch. Thank you very much.* ** like click through rate

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

Frankly, a pension plan is a must, with a minimum of 200,000 yen fixed and committed per month. Thank you very much.

What days would you prefer to work?:

I will send you the agenda for today's activities afterwards. Thank you very much.

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank)

How long can you work for?: (left blank)

*(struggled so much with him and his business buzzwords if anyone has corrections please tell me)

Ichimatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Honored Squad Leader for Life at Factory Worked at Cat Cafe, as a cat And more

About yourself:

I want to gather some cats at the restaurant, but not like it would be a cat cafe, and make a "Cat Sukiya"...

Hobbies/Skills:

Cat certification level 2

Reason for your application:

I want to surround the restaurant with a lot of cats.

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

How many cats am I allowed to bring to the restaurant?

What days would you prefer to work?:

No particular preference

How many hours would you like to work a day?:

No particular preference

How long can you work for?:

As long as there's cats

Jyushimatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

PRACTICE SWINGS

About yourself:

78 METER THROW

Hobbies/Skills:

BASEBALL

Reason for your application:

I WANT TO EAT LOTS OF GYUUDON!

(All the questions about when you're available to work):

I WANT TO EAT GYUUDON EVERY DAY!!

Todomatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Currently attending a very prestigious college Part time job at a trendy coffee shop And more

About yourself:

My brothers are all stupid, so I'm the best choice <3

Hobbies/Skills:

English and Japanese certified

Reason for your application:

The new menu item avocado gyuudon is my favorite, so you're going to release it, right? That is to say, you'll hire me, right? Right? Thanks <3

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

Rather than just beer, I want to sell kalua milk and cassis orange too ⭐

What days would you prefer to work?: (left blank)

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank)

How long can you work for?:

Depends on if the customers are cute girls <3

thank you @totmatsu for ur help

#osomatsu san #mr osomatsu #osomatsu #osomatsu-san #ososan #osomatsu matsuno #karamatsu matsuno #choromatsu matsuno #ichimatsu matsuno #jyushimatsu matsuno #todomatsu matsuno #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #translations

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jennifer-jeong · 7 months ago

Note

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

Fluff + Angst | LADS x Fae!Reader Angel

CONTENT Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier angst #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne angst #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel angst #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #lads fluff #l&ds fluff #j's silly ramblings #j's asks

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tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

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vacationing with isagi while he’s abroad for a game or training is so <3

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, semi-smut, minors dni 18+, characters aged up to 20s, vacationing, being spoiled woo, being picked up, wearing a bikini, possession, little bit of smut towards the end, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

like say you’re in Italy and he gets a few days off between matches so he has you flown out first class and as soon as possible. he lets you plan an itinerary of all the things you’ve ever wanted to do with the time you have — trying gelato, visiting historical monuments or scenic walks.

isagi packs a fanny pack of all of your essentials because he knows you have a tendency to forget things. lip balm, sanitiser, a spare sun hat and a stick of spf because all you have in your massive tote bag is gifts for all of his friends back home in the form of an assortment of key chains and fridge magnets. he dresses like a dad, bless his heart. in a bucket hat that matches the colour of your sun dress, shorts and a t-shirt you’ve chosen for him.

isagi tries not to let his hands wander on days where you lounge on the beach. you’ve asked him to put on your sunscreen, and he’s cheeky with it — massaging the cool liquid into the expanse of your skin, rubbing out the knots in your lower back and shoulders so that you let out adorable squeaks and moans.

“do you need me to go lower?” yoichi will groan into the shell of your ear once his calloused hands reach the base of your spine, teasing you from over your cute little bikini bottoms.

you reach back to shove him off with an angelic smile and devilish eyes to match. “later, yoichi.”

he’ll let you drag him over the sandy shoreline and straight to the enticing blue of the ocean that rivals his eyes — glaring at anyone who dares to look your way. it’s a little stupid, he wants you all to himself, doesn’t want anyone to get to take in your beauty, your lucious figure, your dazzling expression the way he does. isagi nearly bites the head off of the poor guy who makes the mistake of glancing your way when you dip your toes into the water and your chest jiggles a little (you bounce away from its coldness).

isagi who has to lift you into his arms, your legs wrapped around his unfairly slender waist, to actually get you into the water. despite how pretty it looks, the sea is cold and you grip onto the pro player for dear life the further he walks away from dry land. he’s in waist deep, calm waves lapping at his slightly tanned skin and abs, when isagi kisses you slowly and drags out your bottom lip to distract you from the mere fact that he plans to dunk you in the water.

he forgets your arms around his neck as you drag him beneath the aquamarine surface with you — a melody of both of your giggles tangling with the salty sea air.

isagi orders you as many dishes, from each restaurant you stop at, as you want — happily spooning a portion of his risotto into your open mouth because you’d forgotten to order it for yourself and grinning when you kick your feet out in a happy dance. he thinks you’re so cute.

and later, on your last night, isagi makes love to you against rose petal sheets that he’d requested from the hotel staff. his tongue rolls over yours and his hips pin you to the bed and you can’t escape because he barely gives you the room to breathe while pouring all of his love into you. it’s overwhelming, crushed by the weight of him while pounds you to high heavens and you can’t help but cry because tomorrow isagi will belong to Japan, belong to the world and it won’t just be you two lovers exploring cobblestone streets and fruit markets anymore.

“you don’t need to think about that right now,” isagi mouths the words against your neck sloppily, his hands reaching between your intertwined and sweaty bodies to thumb at your clit. “s’just you ‘n me, precious. ‘n when this is all over, i’ll take you to another city. another place a-and i’ll fall in love with you again.” he somehow manages to hiccup between slow grinds and lewd squelches.

and you believe him, because no matter where soccer takes yoichi, your heart will always follow.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #isagi x reader #isagi fluff #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock imagines #isagi smut #bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #isagi yoichi smut #isagi yoichi imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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sanjeev3214 · 11 months ago

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The pharmaceutical and biotechnology industries are at the forefront of those relying on cold chain management. The transportation of vaccines, biologics, and other temperature-sensitive pharmaceuticals requires stringent temperature control to maintain product efficacy.

#report on cold chain industry #cold chain logistics market share #cold chain logistics solutions providers #Cold Chain Management market

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that-angry-noldo · 8 months ago

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Finrod was not feeling well.

Everything felt too bright and too dull at the same time. He managed only to drag himself to the window and close the curtains, and then to drop back into his bed; covered himself in all the blankets he could gather and still felt awfully cold and dizzy.

Outside was raining, and the weather made his bones ache with pains of past life, and the scars on his chest and hands began to itch. It all made Finrod want to become very small and very little and to be far, far away from everything.

He shut his eyes. There were things he needed to do today, he knew; visitors he had to take in, old acquintances from Nargothrond who he agreed to meet with today. But he was feeling awful, and the thought of getting up and facing other people made him almost want to sob.

He felt very immature, and very foolish. But his body was weary, and refused to get up. It was as if he was chained all over again; familiar hopelessness settled into his chest, and he shuddered.

The clock on the wall said it was just the time for breakfast.

His house was a quiet one, in the more secluded part of Tirion, and he lived alone. His parents' palace was always open for him; but it could grow busy, and he loved to have a place to himself. Now he regretted the decision to spend the week here. He wasn't feeling well from yesterday; he was caught in the rain returning from the market, and spent the evening shivering, but he did not think the sickness would get to him in the night.

He was only bitter it happenned now, when he did not even have a messanger to inform the people he invited he was in no state to see them today. He thought of reaching out to Finarfin, or Eärwen; but his mind was too weary, and his thoughts too tangled.

The last thing he remembered was his eyelids growing more and more heavy, and his skin getting more and more hot; until his eyes finally shut closed, and he gave in to the uneasy sleep that found him.

***

He woke up slowly to the sound of someone's voice calling him.

"Good," it crooned, and it was soft and soothing and familiar. "There you are."

The rain was still falling outside. Finrod opened his eyes; saw Finarfin looking right back at him, brushing his hand at Finrod's forehead.

Finrod clasped his father's hand, feeling weak and very tired, and pressed it to his face.

"Atya," he mumbled. Finarfin sat by his side; put his head into his lap. Finrod sunk into his presence; noted dully the clatter of kitchenware coming from downstairs.

"Hush," Finarfin said, and lifted Finrod's head ever so slightly, pressing a glass with something warm to Finrod's lips and coaxing him to drink. It was warm soup, Finrod registered; and felt some warmth return into his bones. "I was right to worry about you today. I'm glad your mother and I decided to take a longer route on our way from the palace and check on you."

"What hour is it?" Finrod mumbled, and tried to sit up—but Finarfin held him down softly, and Finrod had no strength to fight back. "I had—I had a meeting today."

"It is way past lunch," Finarfin said. Then, slipping into Finrod's thoughts, his voice softening: "Your meeting is tomorrow, jewel. You need not worry; I will make sure it is moved a day or two if you do not feel better, yonya."

"Oh," Finrod said, and felt the tips of his ears grow red with embarassment. "Oh. Alright."

He heard Finarfin's quiet laugh, and closed his eyes. "I wil sleep some more, then," he mumbled. "Thank you."

"Always," Finarfin murmured in response, caressing Finrod's hair. "Sleep well, yonya."

He started humming a quiet melody; it wrapped over Finrod, and ran over the edges of his mind, and soothed the fever just a little bit.

Finrod drifted away, and dreamed of sea, and sea-shells, and crabs hiding between the rocks, and for a moment forgot about the fever and pain, both past and present.

#finrod #finarfin #silmarillion #silm fic #for the purposes of this fic. the elves have human immune system #tolkien

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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An excerpt from The Bezzle

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Today, I'm bringing you part one of an excerpt from Chapter 14 of The Bezzle, my next novel, which drops on Feb 20. It's an ice-cold revenge technothriller starring Martin Hench, a two-fisted forensic accountant specialized in high-tech fraud:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Hench is the Zelig of high-tech fraud, a character who's spent 40 years in Silicon Valley unwinding every tortured scheme hatched by tech-bros who view the spreadsheet as a teleporter that whisks other peoples' money into their own bank-accounts. This setup is allowing me to write a whole string of these books, each of which unwinds a different scam from tech's past, present and future, starting with last year's Red Team Blues (now in paperback!), a novel that whose high-intensity thriller plotline is also a masterclass in why cryptocurrency is a scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865854/redteamblues

Turning financial scams into entertainment is important work. Finance's most devastating defense is the Shield Of Boringness (h/t Dana Clare) – tactically deployed complexity designed to induce the state that finance bros call "MEGO" ("my eyes glaze over"). By combining jargon and obfuscation, the most monstrous criminals of our age have been able to repeatedly bring our civilization to the brink of collapse (remember 2008?) and then spin their way out of it.

Turning these schemes into entertainment is hard, necessary work, because it incinerates the respectable suit and tie and leaves the naked dishonesty of the finance sector on display for all to see. In The Big Short, they recruited Margot Robbie to explain synthetic CDOs from a bubble-bath. And John Oliver does this every week on Last Week Tonight, coming up with endlessly imaginative stunts and gags to flense the bullshit, laying the scam economy open to the bone.

This was my inspiration for the Hench novels (I've written and sold three of these, of which The Bezzle is number two; I've got at least two more planned). Could I use the same narrative tactics I used to explain mass surveillance, cryptography and infosec in the Little Brother books to turn scams into entertainment, and entertainment into the necessary, informed outrage that might precipitate change?

The main storyline in The Bezzle concerns one of the most gruesome scams in today's America: prison-tech, which sees America's vast army of prisoners being stripped of letters, calls, in-person visits, parcels, libraries and continuing ed in favor of cheap tablets that bilk prisoners and their families of eye-watering sums for every click they make:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

But each Hench novel has a variety of side-quests that work to expose different kinds of financial chicanery. The Bezzle also contains explainers on the workings of MLMs/Ponzis (and how Gerry Ford and Betsy DeVos's father-in-law legalized one of the most destructive forces in America) and the way that oligarchs, foreign and domestic, use Real Estate Investment Trusts to hide their money and destroy our cities.

And there's a subplot about music-royalty theft, a form of pernicious wage theft that is present up and down the music industry supply-chain. This is a subject that came up a lot when Rebecca Giblin and I were researching and writing Chokepoint Capitalism, our 2022 book about creative labor markets:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Two of the standout cases from that research formed the nucleus of the subplot in The Bezzle, the case of Leonard Cohen's batshit manager who stole millions from him and then went to prison for stalking him, leaving him virtually penniless and forced to keep touring to keep himself fed:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/apr/19/leonard-cohen-former-manager-jailed

The other was George Clinton, whose manager forged his signature on a royalty assignment, then used the stolen money to defend himself against Clinton's attempts to wrestle his rights back and even to sue Clinton for defamation for writing about the caper in his memoir:

https://www.musicconnection.com/the-legal-beat-george-clinton-wins-defamation-case/

That's the tale that this excerpt – which I'll be serializing in six parts over the coming week – tells, in fictionalized form. It's not Margot Robbie in a bubble-bath, it's not a John Oliver monologue, but I think it's pretty goddamned good.

I'm leaving for a long, multi-city, multi-country, multi-continent tour with The Bezzle next Wednesday, starting with an event at Weller Bookworks in Salt Lake City on the 21st:

https://www.wellerbookworks.com/event/store-cory-doctorow-feb-21-630-pm

I'll in be in San Diego on the 22nd at Mysterious Galaxy:

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/22224Doctorow

And then it's on to LA (with Adam Conover), Seattle (with Neal Stephenson), Portland, Phoenix and beyond:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

I hope you'll come out for the tour (and bring your friends)!

Between 1972 and 1978, Steve Soul (a.k.a. Stefon Magner) had a string of sixteen Billboard Hot 100 singles, one of which cracked the Top 10 and won him an appearance on Soul Train. He is largely forgotten today, except by hip-hop producers who prize his tracks as a source of deep, funky grooves. They sampled the hell out of him, not least because his rights were controlled by Inglewood Jams, a clearinghouse for obscure funk tracks that charged less than half of what the Big Three labels extracted for each sample license.

Even at that lower rate, those license payments would have set Stefon up for a comfortable retirement, especially when added to his Social Security and the disability check from Dodgers Stadium, where he cleaned floors for more than a decade before he fell down a beer-slicked bleacher and cracked two of his lumbar discs. But Stefon didn’t get a dime. His former manager, Chuy Flores, forged his signature on a copyright assignment in 1976. Stefon didn’t discover this fact until 1979, because Chuy kept cutting him royalty checks, even as Stefon’s band broke up and those royalties trickled off. In Stefon’s telling, the band broke up because the rest of the act—especially the three-piece rhythm section of two percussionists and a beautiful bass player with a natural afro and a wild, infectious hip-wiggle while she played—were too coked up to make it to rehearsal, making their performances into shambling wreckages and their studio sessions into vicious bickerfests. To hear the band tell of it, Stefon had bad LSD (“Lead Singer Disease”) and decided he didn’t need the rest of them. One thing they all agreed on: there was no way Stefon would have signed over the band’s earnings to Chuy, who was little more than a glorified bookkeeper, with Stefon hustling all their bookings and even ordering taxis to his bandmates’ houses to make sure they showed up at the studio or the club on time. Stefon remembered October of ’79 well. He’d been waiting with dread for the envelope from Chuy. The previous royalty check, in July, had been under $250. The previous quarter’s had been over $1,000. This quarter’s might have zero. Stefon needed the money. His 1972 Ford Galaxie needed a new transmission. He couldn’t keep driving it in first.

The envelope arrived late, the day before Halloween, and for a brief moment, Stefon was overcome by an incredible, unbelieving elation: Chuy’s laboriously typewritten royalty statement ended with the miraculous figure of $7,421.16. Seven thousand dollars! It was more than two years’ royalties, all in one go! He could fix the Galaxie’s transmission and get the ragtop patched, and still have money left over for his back rent, his bar tab, his child support, and a fine steak dinner, and even then, he’d end the month with money in his savings account.

But there was no check in the envelope. Stefon shook the envelope, carefully unfolded the royalty statement to ensure that there was no check stapled to its back, went downstairs to the apartment building lobby and rechecked his mailbox.

Finally, he called Chuy.

“Chuy, man, you forgot to put a check in the envelope.”

“I didn’t forget, Steve. Read the paperwork again. You gotta send me a check.”

“What the fuck? That’s not funny, Chuy.”

“I ain’t joking, Steve. I been advancing you royalties for more than three years, but you haven’t earned nothing new since then—no new recordings. I can’t afford to carry you no more.”

“Say what?”

Chuy explained it to him like he was a toddler. “Remember when you signed over your royalties to me in ’76? Every dime I’ve sent you since then was an advance on your future recordings, only you haven’t had none of those, so I’m cutting you off and calling in your note. I’m sorry, Steve, but I ain’t a charity. You don’t work, you don’t earn. This is America, brother. No free lunches.”

“After I did what in ’76?”

“Steve, in 1976 you signed over all your royalties to me. We agreed, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember this! You came over to my spot and I told you how it was and you said you needed money to cover the extra horns for the studio session on Fight Fire with Water. I told you I’d cover them and you’d sign over all your royalties to me.”

Stefon was briefly speechless. Chuy had paid the sidemen on that session, but that was because Chuy owed him a thousand bucks for a string of private parties they’d played for some of Chuy’s cronies. Chuy had been stiffing him for months and Stefon had agreed to swap the session fees for the horn players in exchange for wiping out the debt, which had been getting in the way of their professional relationship.

“Chuy, you know it didn’t happen that way. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when you signed over all your royalties to me. And you know what? I don’t like your tone. I’ve carried your ass for years now, sent you all that money out of my own pocket, and now you gotta pay up. My generosity’s run out. When you gonna send me a check?”

Of course, it was a gambit. It put Stefon on tilt, got him to say a lot of ill-advised things over the phone, which Chuy secretly recorded. It also prompted Stefon to take a swing at Chuy, which Chuy dived on, shamming that he’d had a soft-tissue injury in his neck, bringing suit for damages and pressing an aggravated-assault charge.

He dropped all that once Stefon agreed not to keep on with any claims about the forged signature; Stefon went on to become a good husband, a good father, and a hard worker. And if cleaning floors at Dodgers Stadium wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he was headlining on Soul Train, at least he never missed a game, and his boy came most weekends and watched with him. Stefon’s supervisor didn’t care.

But the stolen royalties ate at him, especially when he started hearing his licks every time he turned on the radio. His voice, even. Chuy Flores had a fully paid-off three-bedroom in Eagle Rock and two cars and two ex-wives and three kids he was paying child support on, and Stefon sometimes drove past Chuy Flores’s house to look at his fancy palm trees all wrapped up in strings of Christmas lights and think about who paid for them.

ETA: Here's part two!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

#pluralistic #the bezzle #martin hench #marty hench #red team blues #fiction #crime fiction #crime thrillers #thrillers #technothrillers #novels #books #royalties #wage theft #creative labor

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mx-jinxous · 1 year ago

Text

Steve adjusted the clasp on the cloak as he stared over the market stalls. He’d been lucky that the guard they had sent was the same size and wasn’t the brightest. He had feigned falling asleep, which gave him enough time to plan an escape. When the unsuspecting guard had come in with the tray in full armor, it was like the gods were on his side for once. He’d fallen for Steve’s fib, that the chain was biting too tightly into his wrist that it was hurting to eat. Without a second thought, he had unlocked the cuff.

The tray the food came on was the perfect weapon, Steve picked it up and struck while the guard was distracted. He hit the bed, out cold. The young man held his breath for a moment, waiting for the other guards to come running in for their comrade with the commotion the tray had caused. By the second Steve relaxed, the door stayed closed through him stripping the guard down to his undergarments.

It took a little longer to dress in the unfamiliar clothing, but once he got everything situated, he hid his face below the uniform helmet and grabbed the tray. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself before sneaking out, closing the door quickly behind him. He nodded to the two guards as he walked calmly down the hall, sprinting once he rounded the corner.

He went down several stairs and a few corridors before he broke the outside. From there he slipped out through a garden, spotting two children playing amongst the flowers. Before crossing the garden he placed the tray on a pillar, slipping out of the castle walls with surprising ease. To be honest, it nearly was too easy that he thought that the king himself would jump up and attack. Instead, it was a clear path with little to no people on the trail to the village market.

He grabbed a cloak that was hanging unmonitored at a stall as he passed through, blending in the best he could. Currently, he was exploring a jewelry section of the market, trying to find something or someone to remove the bracelet. He’d caught glances and offers, but no magical key. It was a wild goose chase and if he couldn’t find someone to remove it then what were his chances of finding someone to help him home? At least when he was home he had his car to sleep in, here he didn’t even know a place or the currency to get a room.

Maybe his father was right, he’s an idiot that can’t seem to keep himself out of trouble. Somehow he managed to find and get a crush on a stone statue that happened to be alive. Luck was never on his side. It had to be at least after two in the evening and he was going to find shelter for the night. Steve wasn’t worried about food, he’s starved before, but still, life is a real pain in the ass.

“Pst, hey. Kid, you look like you need to lie down.” Steve spun around to find the owner of the voice. Besides him, peeking out from a curtained doorway, was a man with salt and pepper hair. He was around his father's age, yet more weathered than the bastard ever dared to look.

“Ah yeah. I’ve had a long day and honestly, it’s been shitty. To make things worse, I’ve got this stupid bracelet stuck on my skin and no one can get it off.” He unloaded on the guy, trying to remove the bracelet to emphasize the point. He was exhausted, on the run, his body still weak from his sudden illness. Steve just wanted to go home and sleep in his backseat.

“You do seem stressed. Perhaps I can assist you, I do have training involved with enchanted jewelry. Come, my home is open and if you give me the chance to look over it, I may be able to break the enchantment. While you wait I have a free bed.”

Steve stared at the man suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. No one was this kind out of the goodness of their heart, always something on the line. If it was the bracelet, he’d happily turn it over to him and let him deal with the crazy people and stone statue. Still, he was cautious. Steve entered expecting anything but what he saw. It was a living room, minus a tv or anything of value, just a woven sofa and coffee table. The door, a literal board on hinges, slammed behind him causing Steve to jump and turn.

“Apologies.” The man said, walking over to the sofa. “Come, allow me to examine the magic.” He invited Steve to sit, the younger man joining him on the sofa. “My manners seemed to have left me, I am Martin. I study enchantments and other types of magic.” He explained as he manhandled the younger man’s wrist, examining the bracelet. The older man rotated his wrist, fiddling with the clasp and gem while making noise to himself.

Finally, after minutes of the hands-on approach, Martin released his arm. “Strong, ancient magic has bound this to you. May I ask where you acquired it?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe it and it happened to me.” Steve had to chuckle at his denial. With all that he has witnessed in the last 24 hours, he felt crazy for denying it.

“I have heard many tales in my days, you can hardly surprise this old man.” Said man stood, walking around the home, collecting items. “Humor me?”

“A statue gave it to me.” Martin paused, going silent.

“You mean you stole it from the statue?”

“No. The statue came to life, stuck it on my wrist, then took me captive. I’ve been stuck with it since.”

“I see. It sounds like a golem, an enchanter tasked with missions. The magic keeps stationed and once they have accomplished said task then they just crumble. Perhaps you were supposed to bring the bracelet to a new owner. Once I get it off I will study the magic properties.” Martin returned to the sofa, a basket filled with various items. There were bowls, bags of powders, gems, and a sharp blade.

“Alright, lay your arm down. I will try to remove the stone first, if that is the source of the magic then the bracelet should come off without a problem.” Martin explained, picking up the blade.

“Woah! Woah! Can we maybe not use a knife to test this? I do want to keep my limbs.” Steve yelled, pulling his arm back, but that seemed to sour Martin’s temperament. What followed pushed the younger man into an adrenaline haze. The older man charged with the knife, slashing through his arm. He didn’t have time to react to the blade's burn as it returned, meeting the gemstone instead of flesh.

When the steel met the stone a blast forced both men back, Martin flying back into the sofa that gave away from the impact. Steve stumbled back into the drapery, barely able to recover before the man came charging again. The younger threw the curtains at the man, giving him a moment to grab the rod to defend himself.

When his parents had been pressuring him into being a child prodigy they put him through an extensive baseball training camp, until they realized his only gift in the sport was his swing. Sure the three got on like a house and fire, yet he was silently thanking them as the brass rod met its target. There was a sickening crack and specks of blood as it impacted Martin’s face and Steve knew a nose wasn’t supposed to look like that, but it gave him the chance to escape.

With the rod gripped in his hands he sprinted to the door, throwing it open and running out into the market. He looked around for an escape path, but it seemed his path was blocked by people and an overwhelming appearance of guards. Steve Turned to run back to the other side of the market, but came face to face with Martin exiting his home, drenched in blood with his knife. He looked crazed, aiming his anger at Steve. As he took a step towards the young man, vines shot past him, wrapping around the threatening man. His head spun as the guard that had tried to interrogate him at the castle stepped up.

“Well, this is an absolute surprise,” Gareth said, eyes on Martin, hand grasping to the end of the vines. “We come in search of an escaped thief and come in contact with an old friend..” His tone reflected anything but friendliness, in fact, his smile was more of a scowl. “Hello Brenner. The guards and the king have been just dying to see you. Should have known your greed would send you our way.”

Steve took a step back, brain wanting to flee before the man snapped his attention to him. “Do not try to flee, I would rather lead you in shackles than a vine cage like this damned bastard.” He held up his free hand, shackles dangling.

They stared at one another, Steve weighed his options. One led to p; possible freedom, but if he moved one inch he’d be dressed up like a Christmas present. With a sigh, the man dropped his head and bared his wrists. “See, not so hard Mr. Rabbit-Hat.” Gareth made the snide comment while another guard took the shackles and fastened them awkwardly above the bracelet. “Now if Brenner had your self-preservation. Load them into the tumbleweed. We have a long journey ahead and I would like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

With a harsh shove, Steve was loaded into the caged wagon, Martin being thrown in behind him. He was still bound, one gagging him leaving him to stare daggers at the younger man. He just huffed and rested back against the bars, letting his body relax as much as possible with the rocking of the wagon. It lulled him, letting his eyes shut before drifting, only to be jerked back by the cart stopping. Opening his eyes he was greeted with the sight of the castle and the last place he wanted to be, the home of the last person he wanted to see. The sunset was bouncing off of Martin’s bound body as they were removed from the cage.

The guards took the old man out first before dragging Steve out. He was groggy, nearly tripping over his own feet as he was paraded through the garden filled with children and servants. Martin was taken somewhere else while Steve was led into the castle, directly to the throne room. Standing before the stairs of the throne, the person that started this whole mess, a smirk plastered on his face.

King Kas stood proudly before him, giving him the chance to study the fleshier person. His hair was pinned up aside for two strands that framed his face, long, dark, and wavy, unlike the marble statue. His skin was fair and his brown eyes were just as lively and warm, inviting as they had been before. He was adorned in jewelry, much of what had been stolen by the thieves, aside from the bracelet.

He expected threats or a fight that would end up with his hand severed, or even his death. Instead, the king waved over a guard, having the bloodied shackles removed. Kas pushed his sleeve up, tsking at the sight of the angry cut. “I must admit, you are a surprising case. You climb from the family vault, wearing my family's bracelet, knocking out one of my guards, and escaping, then, after getting out to the market, you led Martin Brenner into capture. It has been quite the adventure and I would like to pay you back for bringing that dangerous man in. Hand over the bracelet, and allow you a night in the castle before sending you on the way. Joyce will see to your wound before you leave.” He was snarky. That’s what Steve noticed first, which didn’t help his attitude as he glared at the king.

“I can’t.” He grumbled, staring the man down.

“Cannot or will not?”

“I can’t! It’s stuck on my arm.”

“Magically adhered, your majesty. I did look it over while he was recovering.” Joyce spoke up, standing off to the side with the rest of the court. “This will not be a simple removal. I recommend having different magi look over the magical signature, and to do that you will have to stay.”

Frustration was building in Steve. He was going to be forced to stay in the place with his abductor, he was going to lose his job, and if he ever was able to leave he probably wouldn’t have a car. All of this happened because he had to make goo-goo eyes at an abnormally hot statue. A momentary dick over-brain slip caused him this living hell. His mind was bouncing around, between every regrettable decision that finally came to head when Kas had to have the last word. “Well, that is the universe punishing a thief.”

Like the break of a string, Steve snapped. His fist met the king’s cheek, sending the slightly older man stumbling back. Gasps resounded from around them, the guards reacting and binding Steve’s arm behind his back, but that didn’t stop the bite that came with the anger. Kas recovered quickly, glaring at the young man, ignoring the blood dripping from his lip.

“It’s your fault! You’re the one who put it on my wrist and locked me in that coffin! Don’t you dare try and blame me for this mess!”

“Lies! I do not even know your name! Guards, lock him in the guest room until he has calmed down for treatment!” Kas barked and trudged out of the room. Gareth followed him to his bed chambers, locking themselves in the room. The guard took a wet cloth from the basin, dabbing it over the king's lip.

“That man has a death wish. He is lucky Chris did not flay him. I do not understand his motives, but regardless of it, best to keep wary of him.” Kas hummed in agreement, fiddling with his pendent, spacing off as he looked at the doors. A scoff left Gareth before he smacked the king upside the back of the head, earning a yelp. “Are you seriously daydreaming about a thief that attacked you!?”

“Fucksake Gare! It is not my fault he happens to be a handsome man.” Kas huffed, crossing his arms.

“You can not be serious Eddie. You have the most absurd attractions.” He groaned.

“oh like you have the room to complain Gare. I recall hearing you in the middle of trysts with Andrew. The things you were begging for should have been transcribed by poets.” A pillow met Kas’ face, a snorted laugh escaping him as the two tussled.

“Why do I even try to care, you have always been the one to poke a bear.” The young guard scoffed, only for the pillow to greet his face. A loud, triumphant laugh echoed through the room. It was cut off once more when Gareth tackled the king, the two scuffling like children, the tension leaking out of the air as they ignored the elephant in the room.

——————————————

I believe I have figured a way to track this story with the increasingly growing tag list. I am going to make a custom tag below SetinStoneSteddie. You can follow the tag to keep up with the story :)

@steddieas-shegoes @steddie-steddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @roastingdragon @oblivion-void @just-a-tiny-void @lilangeldevil006 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @izzy2210 @weirdandabsurd42 @throwbackthrowaway @steve-the-hairrington @loser-of-hearts333 @croatoan-like-its-hot @gingersass @alto-delete @anaibis @limbs-are-optional @thephantomhood @itsall-taken @jamieweasley13 @imfinereallyy @yeahhh-suga @awkotaco24 @aliea82 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @stxrcrossed186 @emly03 @elviraenthusiast @siriusleeart @fxrgetmenott @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @noctxrn-e @spicysix @renaissan-vvitch @lovelyscot @goodolefashionedloverboi @teelagurl558 @seilahtitania32 @sparky-bunny @dontslayfay @amrice @pluckedstrings @plyerice27 @vae1bixy @grtwdsmwhr @vacantwatchers @8em-em-em8 @stevesbipanic @commonxsenss @sani-86 @suikatto @callmesirkay @spideysteveloml @neeerdrage @quevadilla @p0lybl4nkk @thetrueghostqueen @ok-just-why @eyesofshinigami @oxidantdreamboat @platinum-sunset @milottadoodles @chillichats @kyysposts @bookworm0690 @shrimply-a-menace @chocolateracconlights

#steddie #SetinStoneSteddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie

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garmmy · 6 months ago

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2024 jp trip report (food edition)

i had originally planned to visit tokyo in 2020, but covid happened and...finally this year i managed to go on the trip! ;w; i rarely go overseas but it was really fun just walking around and stumbling upon things. i want to save up for the next japan trip already...

i'm making the post mostly to remember where i've been! i'm splitting up the food and the sights because of tumblr's image limit per post 🙄 will be posting the food here!

(sights edition here)

Day 1 (13/5/2024)

we arrived at night so pretty much everything was closed, but before i went to bed i had some cold haikara udon...i love cold udon so much and wish there was a way to get it cheap back home 😭 i also added some chilli oil with garlic, but it wasn't spicy..only the first day in and i miss singapore's spicy food 😂

Nakau なか卯 (chain store, multiple outlets)

Day 2 (14/5/2024)

we spent day 2 at ikebukuro and nakano...mostly browsing weeb shit 😭

started the day with some breakfast at komeda's coffee, they have a morning set and auugfhjhghh the bread used in japan cafes' toast is always so soft and fluffy..obsessed

Komeda's Coffee コメダ珈琲店 (chain store, multiple outlets)

at nakano broadway, the basement had some supermarkets/grocery stores and one of them sold sashimi. i didn't end up buying from here, but...LOOK at this sashimi, for 580jpy?? omg 😭😭😭 i want

we had lunch at a hayashi rice place near nakano broadway! i had curry omurice myself while my friend got the hayashi omurice. the omelette was sooo good...society if i could cook an egg like this on my own

Hayashi-ya Nakano-so ハヤシ屋中野荘 164-0001 Tokyo, Nakano City, Nakano, 5 Chome-55-15

and for dinner we had monjayaki at ikebukuro..we've never tried like, actually cooking the monjayaki before? so it was a fun experience!

Monjaya Mon もんじゃや紋 170-0013 Tokyo, Toshima City, Higashiikebukuro, 1 Chome−12−10 ヤンズビル 3F

Day 3 (15/5/2024)

on my morning walk i decided to try a canned drink from a vending machine. satsuma-imo milk! so in singapore, there was recently a 'nutri-grade' rating introduced mandatory for all drinks to indicate the sugar level in the drink. i didn't think i would miss it in japan LOL i'm sorry but drinking this drink was like drinking sugar syrup T_TT i think as i got older my sugar tolerance has drastically dropped..

we started at akihabara, and had brunch at niku no mansei (yes the well-known building with like 10 floors of meat before it closed, i think it split into a couple of places?) we went to the akiba place branch for their hemborger hamburg steak...how am i supposed to go back to eating it in singapore after this?? 🫠 IT'S SO GOOD (i'm also laughing at the token broccoli though)

Niku no Mansei Akiba Place 肉の万世アキバプレイス店 101-0021 Tokyo, Chiyoda City, Sotokanda, 3 Chome−15−1, Akiba Place, 3F

after akiba we went to asakusa, and since it's asakusa we had to have some tendon..we just went into one of the tendon places we spotted but i didn't realise it was akimitsu!? we have akimitsu in singapore too 😂 but loved the tempura eel!

Akimitsu 秋光 111-0032 Tokyo, Taito City, Asakusa, 1 Chome-29-11

Day 4 (16/5/2024)

i got some plum onigiri from famima for breakfast on my morning walk. oughgkhghjh i already miss conbini onigiri so much...affordable yet tasty! i really love onigiri, but our convenience store onigiri in singapore is a bit overpriced, which wouldn't be so bad if the onigiri itself wasn't also terrible with cold hard rice :')

we started the day at tsukiji outer market. SEAFOOD..... we finally got some sashimi today, my beloved,,, we had engawa truffle salt sushi and also a sashimi bowl of the day. and also it was my first time trying shiokara! apparently it's squid in a kind of sauce made from fermented fish/sea animal innards. i'm not sure if it might be an acquired taste, but for a seafood lover like me it was so good 🥺 the lady serving us food was also really nice and we had a little chat even with our terrible spoken japanese lol.

Taneichi たねいち 104-0045 Tokyo, Chuo City, Tsukiji, 4 Chome-9-5

i also found shirako in the market! it was my first time eating it (i think it can be found in singapore? but not particularly common). other than the shiso leaf it was served plain though, while i like the taste i kinda wish i had rice or something to go with it.

also we got some matcha latte from the market before leaving! i got the 'less sweet' which was perfect, when a lot of times the least sweet (without being zero sugar) option from drink stores are too sweet for me..

Matcha Stand Maruni マッチャスタンドマルニ 104-0045 Tokyo, Chuo City, Tsukiji, 4 Chome−14−18

some ramen for dinner at ryogoku! admittedly i'm not a super into ramen person 😅 but butter in noodles is always such a nice combo!

Tadokoro Shoten 田所商店 (chain store, multiple outlets)

and some parfait for supper. look at their logo!! so cute 🥹🥹🥹

Mayonaka Farm (Ryogoku Yokozuna Yokocho outlet) 真夜中牧場両国横綱横丁店 130-0026 Tokyo, Sumida City, Ryogoku, 3 Chome-22-8

Day 5 (17/5/2024)

started the day with some zaru soba. it was nice but cold soba was kind of a mistake because it was raining that morning and so COLD lol

Yudetaro ゆで太郎 (chain store, multiple outlets)

we started at shinjuku today and walked our way down to shibuya. with my friend's recommendation we tried blue bottle coffee? the latte was nice and even had this natural sweetness(?) to it despite not adding sugar.

Blue Bottle Coffee ブルーボトルコーヒー (chain store, multiple outlets)

and then we went to takeshita street. i think marion crepes is the most well-known one, but the queue..??? so we ended up going to another crepe store. it's still a treat and has a variety of flavours! i got the regular strawberry whipped cream.

Santa Monica Crepes サンタモニカクレープ 150-0001 Tokyo, Shibuya City, Jingumae, 1 Chome-16-16-8

late lunch at yomenya goemon! i had the tarako butter one and i really liked it...i think i could try buying some mentaiko from donki back home and trying it out myself..

Yomenya Goemon 洋麵屋五右衛門 (chain store, multiple outlets)

Day 6 (18/5/2024)

conbini haul for the morning. i would like to shoutout to famima's pudding in particular; i feel a lot of store-bought pudding tend to be closer to the jelly-like consistency, but i prefer my pudding to be closer to the creamy? eggy? like consistency and famima's pudding is perfect for the price ;w;

we went to miura peninsula in kanagawa for the day using the misaki maguro ticket (it's so worth!! highly recommend if you want a day trip from tokyo). for breakfast we had some coffee and toast at coffee house poem. their signature blend (kaigan blend) in particular was really unique and nice..kinda regret not ordering that for myself 😂 love the rustic interior too!

Coffee House Poem (Miurakaigan outlet) ぽえむ三浦海岸駅前店 238-0101 Kanagawa, Miura, Minamishitauramachi, Kamimiyada-3130

nearby there's a souvenir shop selling mainly jams, and pickles (including daikon, one of miura's specialties). did you know that i hated eating radish until japanese daikon changed my life 🤣 i also got some persimmon jam to try since i'd never really heard of it! and also some honey+daikon candy.

Temiyage Iroiro Miura Store 手土産いろいろ三浦ストア 238-0101 Kanagawa, Miura, Minamishitauramachi, Kamimiyada-3255

and finally we got SUSHI...i could cry the maguro here is so good 😭😭😭😭😭 the place is called 'kaitenzushi kaisen', but the sushi does not actually 'kaiten'/revolve, the chefs just serve it 😂 we used the maguro ticket on this so we got some maguro and some local catch!

Kaitenzushi Kaisen 廻転寿司海鮮 238-0101 Kanagawa, Miura, Minamishitauramachi, Kamimiyada-3372-18

we then took the train to misakiguchi station, and the bus to misaki port. there's a market there called urari marche, which sells seafood and veggies mainly. we got some skewer hotate (scallop) and maguro karaage there! i was not a big fan of the maguro karaage though..i still think maguro is best as sashimi lol

Urari Marché うらりマルシェ 238-0243 Kanagawa, Miura, Misaki, 5 Chome-3-1

right next to the port was a cafe i used my ticket on, for some danish loaf with pistachio ice cream and a coffee drink. the ice cream goes so well with the fruity loaf!

3204 bread&gelato 238-0243 Kanagawa, Miura, Misaki, 3 Chome-12-10

Day 7 (19/5/2024)

went for a short walk at ueno park in the morning. there were some food stalls there! we tried some of the freshly roasted hojicha, and also some mitarashi dango. there's some skewered fish that looked good but i didn't try because i was scared of the bones 😅 and other kinda matsuri-like foods such as kakigori and yakisoba, a bit higher priced i guess because of the tourists there but i'm not a fan of yakisoba so 😆

also there was an asian food festival going on near shinobazu pond! i didn't try the food (it seemed largely SEAsian food, we can get cheaper thai, viet food etc in singapore anyway), but also for some reason there is a food truck for US food? and the representative food is 'american long potato' 😂 is that a thing in US? (ok but i know US is huge)

i met up with a friend for lunch at akiba and they recommended ootoya! a restaurant chain for teishoku. i got the recommended fried fish and veg in sweet vinegar sauce and 🥺 the taste mix is so good! i also wanted to randomly bring up something i'll miss about japan: pretty much every eatery, whether cafe or restaurant, serves free water, or even green tea! you rarely get free water in singapore eateries even though we have friggin drinkable tap water here 🙄 (except in japanese chains like saizeriya or sukiya..lol) you'll have to buy overpriced bottled mineral water or something even if you just want water to go with your meal.

Ootoya 大戸屋 (chain store, multiple outlets)

after some walking around akiba (i.e. combing weeb stores), we stopped for some thick fluffy toast and drink (mine was cinnamon toast and almond cafe latte) at vault coffee. true it was a sunday, but we were surprised that it was some random cafe hidden in third floor of what looked otherwise like a normal commercial building on the outside, and it was still soo crowded, we had to wait a little while to be seated!

VAULT COFFEE 101-0021 Tokyo, Chiyoda City, Sotokanda, 4 Chome−5−1 3F

and this marks the end of our week-long food journey in japan 😆 i had to save a lot of funds for my splurging on weeb and stationery stuff LOL, but i hope the next time i come i can focus more on sightseeing and food maybe! but for now it's back to capitalism to save up first 🏃

#garm's trip repo

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dragon-kazansky · 1 year ago

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Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

SEASON 2 CONTENT AHEAD!!!

Blackbeard rules the sea. Despite wanting his captain back, Izzy realises his mistake. Protecting the crew is his concern. Protecting you is his life mission. Stede's return brings hope, but there's a lot of work to be done before this crew becomes a family.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Spoilers. Izzy serenades you. Wee John looks absolutely amazing. Ned wants to make music with you.

Chapter Fifteen - Night to remember

♡♡♡

You find Izzy drinking up on deck. You make your way over to him and take the bottle from him.

"Bit early for that."

Izzy sighs and looks at you. "I spoke to Ed."

"Oh?" You give him your full attention. "Go on."

"He said sorry."

You smile a little and reach out to caress Izzy's cold cheek softly.

"There's hope."

Izzy says nothing and leans into your touch. "Your hands a cold," he whispers.

"So is your face. The cold sea air is setting in." You smile at him. "Come here."

Izzy leans in a little closer and you kiss him. "There. That will warm you up."

Izzy smiles. You both stay there a little while.

♡♡♡

The crew totally just Calypso'd their captain. Things had been a little stable onboard the ship, so Frenchie used the good old excuse of Calypso's birthday to celebrate.

Stede also thought this was a good way for Ed to make things right again. To turn the poison into positivity.

A party sounded like fun. You were excited.

You joined the crew on shore to spend some of the leftover treasure on things for the party. Food, drink, decoration. It was going to be great.

Izzy followed you through the stalls. As you looked at all the wars available, Izzy looked at you.

He was so in love with you. He couldn't deny it. You were everything to him. There was not a single treasure in the world that would mean more to him than you. His whole world was right there in front of him.

"Izzy, look at this!" You lift up a silver chain belt with lots of little charms hanging off it. The charms looked like little stars to him.

"Very nice."

You put it back down to look at other stuff. Izzy doesn't hesitate to pick up the belt and pay for it, putting it in his satchel for sake keeping.

You pass a stall of flowers and smile as you look at them. You pluck one from the table and turn around to face Izzy. He stops walking as you draw closer and tuck the flower into his waistcoat. You smile.

"There."

He smiles and looks at your face, admiring your eyes. Maybe he could dance with you at this party... but then Izzy remembers his leg and decides to forget that thought. You see the expression on his face change and reach out to him.

"What is it? What's the matter?" You ask softly.

"Nothing. Come on." He takes your hand in his and leads you onward. You don't ask any more questions, but you do keep your eye on him.

♡♡♡

The ship is decorated with fabric, lanterns, flowers, and other little bits the crew managed to find.

You were in Izzy's cabin, well, you supposed it was yours too. You spent enough time in there with him. Izzy wasn't here, but something was sitting on the bed for you. Alongside it was a note written in Izzy's neat writing. You smiled at it as you read it.

A gift for you. Wear it at the party.

- Your Izzy.

You place the note down and unwrap the gift waiting for you. It was only wrapped by cloth and rope, but it was neatly done. Izzy had taken care to make sure it was nicely kept for you.

Silver catches your eye. You smile as you pick up the the belt you had seen in the market earlier that day. Izzy had bought it for you. You put it on right away.

Jim had helped pick out some clothes for you for the party. The crew were apparently dressing up a lite for the occasion. It wasn't much, but it was a nice change from your usual garb.

You make your way up onto the deck to see the party had started. The crew were smiling, drinking, having fun. It was a good atmosphere, and something that was well needed after everything everyone had been through.

It was about time the crew healed.

Ed and Stede were talking to each other on one side of the ship. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but for a brief second Ed looked up at you. You allowed yourself to smile and nod at him.

Ed seemed to really appreciate that.

Yes, he went off the rails and took your lover's leg. Yes, he tortured the crew and tried to kill everyone. But there was room to forgive if Ed just opened his eyes and tried to reconnect.

Izzy would always be your main priority though. No matter what Ed said or did.

Speaking of Izzy, you couldn't see him on deck. You looked around wondering if he was hiding in one of the dark corners of the deck. You weren't about to let him miss out on a good night.

You couldn't see him.

Still, you smiled as Jim came over and splashed you, laughing like a maniac. You laughed too, getting into it.

"Greetings, mortals."

You all turn around to find Wee John standing on the stairs. Your jaw drops slightly at the sight.

"Is that Wee John?" Stede asks.

"'Tis I, Calypso."

You smile. Archie bows down and Jim makes their way a little closer.

"Raise your motherfucking glasses or feel my absolute wrath," Wee John, uh, Calypso, demands.

Everyone raises their glasses with a cheer.

In that next moment you hear Izzy's voice. "Yeah, just play that. Just follow my beat." He limps forward.

Your expression turns to one of surprise and awe.

There stands Izzy, still in his usual gear, but with a few added accessories. The flower you gifted him at the market was tucked into his waistcoat, and he was wearing make up. His hair has been touched up too.

He looked good.

Frenchie plays a few chords and you're once again taken back by what is happening. Izzy starts to sing.

"Hold me close and hold me fast,

The magic spell you cast,

This is la vie en rose."

He sings softly, looking a little awkward, but he carries on singing anyway. As other start to dance around you, you stand there and watch Izzy sing.

"When you kiss me, heaven sighs,

And though I close my eyes,

I see la vie en rose."

Izzy walks over to you and takes your hand, kissing it softly. You can't help the smile that settles on your face. You wonder if he can hear your heart racing in your chest.

"When you press me to your heart...

I'm in a world apart,

A world where roses bloom."

Izzy pulls you in closer and you both began to dance with the others. He keeps the song going.

"And when you speak angels sing from above,

Every day words seem to turn into love-"

He is just about to sing the next word when something shoots at the ship. Everyone begins to panic. Izzy holds onto you. He pulls you down off to the side, his arms around you firmly.

"Good evening, doomed crew of The Revenge." A voice says, followed by the soft tune of a violin.

You know that voice.

"New Low. Fuckin' perfect." Ed sighs.

"I'm going to torture you all, by the way." Ned states proudly.

Izzy had his arm out in front of you, keeping you behind him. You smile softly. He was trying to protect you, but you knew Ned had the whole crew under his thumb.

At least you got tied up close to Izzy where he could see you.

"So, what's the plan, you weird fuck?" Izzy asks the lady that walks over to him.

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna cut your skin off in strips or some bullshit like that." She replies.

"You don't sound very excited about it," Frenchie says from where he is sat.

"What are we celebrating here, guys?" She asks, looking around the ship.

"It's Calypso's birthday," Wee John replies. "I'm Calypso."

"Oh, God. Guys, they Calypso'd them."

"Ned would shit his pants if we did that," one of the others said.

"Yeah, Captain likes a bit of whimsy now and then," Frenchie says.

"Well, I guess our captains have very different ideas about whimsy."

"Maybe we should talk about it," Olu suggests.

"No. Same shit, different day."

"Ya know, whatever this is, it's just gonna turn me on," Izzy says to her.

You chuckle. Izzy smiles at you.

"Should have said so, dear." You wink at him.

"Go fuck yourself," the woman says to him.

"That's my job," you say, not caring who on the crew heard. Some of them groan. Izzy smile and shakes his head softly. He's used to your remarks.

Ed and Stede are brought back out onto the deck. Ed is strung up by his arms and legs, his restraints pulling tight.

"Tighter, please. I think you've almost fixed my lower back," Ed says to Ned.

"Alright, you idiots. It's almost showtime." Ned says. "Everyone settled in? Prepared to give their finest performance?"

He stands and turns around to the lady who had been talking to Izzy earlier. "Can you hurry up?" He asks her, seemingly irritated.

"Do you wan it done fast or do you want it done well?" She asks back.

"Both!"

Stede is sensing some issues between them. "Torturing is won't get your record back."

"I know that. I'm just doing it for the lolz." Ned says to him. "Now, you are about to witness a little something I call, "The Symphony." Let's all tune up! Tuning up!"

They start to torture the crew enough to get them screaming in pain

Ned walks around the deck playing his violin. Stede gets hit.

"Jesus!"

"No! You're late!" Ned groans.

"I wasn't late," the lady says.

"It really hurts," Stede pouts.

"Thank you," the lady smiles. "It's nice to get a little positive reinforcement now and again."

"Don't talk to my employee," Ned warns Stede.

"Oh, that's the problem." Stede says. "You see her as your employee rather than the person she actually is."

"Okay, kill him." Ned instructs. "Let's take it from the top."

Stede manages to get his hands free. He grabs the lady and holds her at knife point. "Enough trifling! Release my crew or Hellkat- Is it Hellkat?"

"It's actually Hellkat Maggie," she says.

"Oh! That's a beautiful name."

You sigh from where you're sat. This isn't how you expected tonight to go. You were looking forward to spending a fun evening with Izzy.

"Go ahead an kill her. She can't even tie a rope correctly," Ned scoffs.

"Maybe I'm demoralised by your constant fucking criticism," she argues back

"Me too. I've had enough of the shiny fuck." Another says.

"I don't like the way it makes me feel working for you," adds another of his crew.

"You're mercenaries. You don't have feelings." Ned says, looking at them all.

"How about you stop telling me who I am?" Hellkat states.

"Yeah, and she has a name." Stede reminds him. "A beautiful one."

The door bursts open and Black Pete comes out screaming, Lucius behind him. It just dawned on you that you hadn't seen them all day.

"Guys, Stede's already got this!" Ed says to them.

"Yeah. Where you been?" Olu asks.

"We got engaged."

Everyone smiles and awes. That's so cute! Yeah, no wonder they've been gone day.

"I love that!" Stede says. "Anywho, where were we? Oh, that's right. Your lot was turning, weren't you?" He asks Hellkat. He hands the knife over to her.

Ned lowers his violin.

Ned's crew start turning their weapons on him.

Ned is promptly restrained. His crew are given some of the treasure aboard The Revenge, and they're sent on their way in a boat. Ned is left behind for Stede to deal with.

The moment you had been freed from your restraints you hurried to free Izzy, holding onto him. He says nothing as he looks at you, not once dropping his gaze. His hands settle on you, happy he can hold you close again.

"So, Bland Beard. How ya gonna do it?" Ned asks.

"I'm not. I don't respect you enough to kill you," Ed says to him. "You're not worth the poison."

"What happened to you?" Ned asks. "You used to be a killer, but now you're just a washed-up, low-born dirtbag."

Stede holds his sword up to Ned. "Walk!"

"Now this is how ya do it," Ned grins. "This is what it's all about right here."

Stede shoves him forward. They walk over to where the plank is still up. "Get up." Stede orders.

"On the plank?" Ned asks.

"Yeah."

"That is kinky," Ned gasps. "You're gonna toss me into the sea?" Ned steps up onto the plank.

"Works for spiders. Works for men," Stede says to him.

"Ya know, once you kill me, you are a real pirate," Ned tells him. "You're not an amateur anymore."

"Don't do it, Stede," Ed says, looking at his man. "Killing in cold blood, you can't come back from that."

"See? That's why he likes you." Ned turns to look at Stede. "It's because of your bumbling amateur status. You're like a pet, I think."

"You hurt my crew," Stede stands his ground. "You shit-talked my friend and damaged my ship. But worst of all, you fucked Calypso's birthday!"

The crew cheer and agree with Stede.

Stede takes the violin which had been put down earlier. He turns back to face Ned.

"What would you like me to do? Jump?" Ned asks.

"No, don't forget your fiddle." Stede throws the violin right at Ned. Ned loses balance and falls into the cold sea below.

Stede had done it.

You watch him go as he walks away.

"Give him a minute," Izzy says to Ed. "First jill's always a mind-fuck."

"I'm gonna check on him." Ed follows after Stede.

You sigh and lean against Izzy. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your head gently. You chuckle and look at him.

"What a night, eh?"

His smiles at you. "Should we carry on where we left off?" He asks.

You look at him slightly confused.

Izzy takes your hand and kisses it before making his way up the stairs. You watch him go as he stands up in front of the helm. He starts to sing again and you smile.

Only this time he sings in french. You smile as he looks at you.

"Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Mais moi, ça me fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur

Une grande part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie

Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie."

He smiles at you. You smile back. You had no idea he was so- talented! All these years and you're still discovering things about him

You love that man so much.

Roach sets off fireworks.

You applaud Izzy along with the rest of the crew. You all cheer. Izzy laughs.

He continues to sing as you make your way up the stairs. He holds a hand out for you as you reach the top. You chuckle and take his hand letting him draw you in closer.

"Da, da, da, da, da, da." The crew begin to sing along.

As Izzy finishes the song he pulls you in for a kiss. You return the kiss, reach up to hold his face gently in your hands.

"One more song! One more song!" The crew chant.

You laugh as you and Izzy part.

"I've got one more song!" Izzy says to them. You laugh again and take his hand in yours.

This has been a night to remember after all.

♡♡♡

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