#I’ll never post about politics again I swear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

g1rld1ary · 8 months ago

Note

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

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You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

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Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

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It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

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brainbuffering · 2 years ago

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An argument that regularly occurs within the discussion of accessibility in cinema, is that creators should not have limitations put upon them. If their creative vision requires Strobe effects to be used, then they should be used regardless of any adverse effects they may have on the viewer.

Others before me have spoken about how the health and wellbeing of your audience should be more important than any artistic vision. However, I think something that is never noted is that creatives are already placed with strict limitations in the form of age certificate guidelines, and other broadcasting standards.

Now, fair warning. I am going to use a lot of uncensored profanity here. If you are offended by slang terms that refer to the act of sex, genitalia, a person's moral/social standing, or any form of bodily fluid then you may wish to step away.

"Cunt. Cunt cunt cunt cunt. Cuntity-cunt-cunt! I'll say it again you shit faced bastards! What is up with all these mother fucking cunts, on this mother fucking cunt ass plane?" is a phrase that beloved merc-with-a-mouth Deadpool is not allowed to say. The rating of the series doesn't matter. The nature of the character doesn't matter. The fact that, objectively, nothing of true offence to any individual beyond the realm of fiction has been said; doesn't matter. The words used are deemed as offensive by the society in which we live in, and so the producers and editors have decided to place limitations on the writers.

British Swear-tastic Political Comedy "The Thick of It" famously had to carefully count the number of cunts and fucks in order to meet with "broadcasting standards". This limited their actors ability to improvise more effectively, and led to scenes being forced to be cut or heavily edited in post production. Yet nobody ever questions whether the limit on swearing was unreasonable even though it was fundamentally detrimental to their creative process.

These may seem like some extreme examples, but one must remember that this applies to all cinematic media. It does not matter that a depressed, middle aged Peter Parker would be perfectly at home letting our a quite "Ahhhh fuck." when he drops his pizza on the floor, because Spider-Man films need to be rated PG-13 in order to maintain sales. This policing of language does limit the ways in which a character is allowed to express themselves, and the sort of stories that are therefore allowed to be told. However the majority of fans deem it perfectly reasonable and acceptable. It does not cause outrage in the same way that suggesting a PG-13 film does not contain Strobe effects heavy enough to send someone to hospital. It would appear that society has deemed the word “Fuck” worse than a Seizure. Peter Parker cannot say fuck in order to protect viewers, he can, however, bombard them with deadly strobes.

And why is this? What is it about our society where we have deemed it more traumatising for a 14 year old to hear the word "cunt" than it is for them to have (or even witness) a seizure? I can assure you, from personal experience, that seizures have caused far more long term damage to my brain than the word "cunt" ever has.

Cinematic Limitations are not just put down to language though. Blood shed is also something that is carefully monitored during ratings. If one watches the extended edition of "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies" one will note significantly more blood shed during the extended sequences! A level that is far more realistic than what was shown in the original. This is because the cinematic release needed to be a 12a, whereas the Extended BluRay was allowed to be a 15. The creators had to work around creative limitations that were put in place to protect their viewers' sensibilities.

Of course standards for these things differ across nations. Other recent examples of this include films such as "Demon Slayer: Mugan Train". Demon Slayer is a Japanese animated film based off of a comic aimed at young boys, and as such was given a PG12 rating in its home nation. However, in the UK it was rated as 15 due to "Strong Violence" including "strangling, slashings and stabbings with bladed weapons, dismemberment and decapitations which result in extensive blood spurts and other forms of bloodshed." The US release was given an R Rating for similar reasons, although it is perhaps important to note that whilst in the UK the film was not allowed to be seen by anyone under the age of 15, in the US a child could still go see the film so long as they had adult supervision.

Yet it is also interesting to note that whilst Japanese Society considers fantasy levels of blood shed to not be a problem for their children to watch, they do have some of the strictest photosensitivity laws for broadcast TV. This is as a direct response to the infamous "Pokémon Incident" where 685 children from across Japan were taken to hospital after suffering from seizures following an episode of the Pokémon anime in 1997. “Electric Soldier Porygon” has hence been banned from ever being broadcast again, and the titular Porygon has never been seen in the anime since. Even though the trigger for the seizures was Pikachu’s attacks, not Porygon’s. #PorygonWasInnocent.

Most fans consider this a reasonable response to children being put in danger by a TV Show! Indeed, when people watch the episode on YouTube (some things simply refuse to stay lost) folks tend to agree that the lighting effects were incredibly severe and TV Tokyo were right to ban the episode. Yet in 2018 (over a decade after Electric Soldier Porygon Aired) when Pixar also caused children to have seizures in the cinema during "The Incredibles 2" the film was not pulled from screenings or revised, and anyone who suggested it should be was met with volatile abuse from so-called-fans claiming that if their creative vision involved strobe effects, then those strobe effects should be allowed to stay in, no matter how many children might be hurt in the process!

Interesting to note, too, is that the version of the film that aired in the USA was in actual fact illegal to broadcast in the UK due to the potentially deadly nature of the strobe effects, and so an altered version had to be shown. This version still came with an official warning (as is legally required in the UK) but was at least deemed not as likely to cause seizures in those who do not usually suffer from photosensitive seizures. What this tells us, is that Pixar had a version of the film that they could have easily re-distributed to theatres but chose not to.

Pixar easily accepted limitations on their films in terms of language and violence in order to protect the moral/mental well-being of their audience, but drew the line at anything that would actually protect their physical well-being.

You may find yourself reading this and agreeing with the certificate ratings. You may think that the words such as "shit", "fuck", and "cunt" shouldn't be used in media aimed at under 15s. That an excessive or realistic depiction of blood and violence has no place in superhero films that are naturally going to appeal to children! And yet, in my experience, the same people who have these views do not expand them to the use of strobes. Any time the mention of films such as “Into The Spider-verse” should not include strobe effects, a plethora of people will rise up to tell you that you are wrong and terrible and bad for daring to suggest such limitations be put upon cinema! Yet as demonstrated above, these films must already undergo limitations in order to be shown to mass audiences. If the creators wanted total creative freedom, they would keep themselves to small indie productions supported by Kickstarter. Yet when a film is made for a mass market, then it must accept those mass market limitations, especially if they wish for their film to be watched by a younger audience.

Because, at the end of the day, whilst I may be forced to hear again and again that not all animation is for children, a coming of age movie about a teenager attending a brand new high school is, fundamentally, going to be aimed at people under the age of 18. A.K.A. Children. It is also important to note, that the age in which a person is most likely to experience their first seizure is between the ages of 13 and 18, the exact age range that these films are deemed safe for in terms of emotional and mental wellbeing.

Now, I am no parent, but if given the choice between my child hearing Peter Parker call Green Goblin a "Little Shit", or having to hold my child's limp hand as I desperately prayed for them to wake up after suffering from a seizure, I know which I would rather.

I’m not calling for a complete rehaul of cinema certification here. I’m not advocating for more swearing, or more bloodshed. I simply believe that if certificate ratings exist to provide guidance to parents and the rest of the general public about what to expect from films, and what society decides is and is not safe for children to consume, then their physical as well as mental health should be taken into consideration.

And if you are reading this, and still find that a production company including the word "cunt" in their film is more offensive than that film causing someone to have a Seizure, then I have terrible news for you. I think you might be just a tad bit ableist. And that maybe, you, and vast portions of the western film industry, need to start addressing that problem. Before it becomes too late, and the voices of photosensitive people are lost to cinema forever.

For, at the end of the day, if we cannot go see these films, how can we be inspired by them?

#actually epileptic #actually disabled #spider-man #into the spiderverse #incredibles #incredibles 2 #film #cinema #blog post #cw swearing

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skibidilando · 7 months ago

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A day at quadrant: LN4

Author note: I don’t even know how to post anything on this and never wrote a fic but I hope this is good but I think it’s pretty shit and I haven’t finished it yet and if any writers want to use this idea you can for sure just @ me please oh and if you have feedback please let me know thanks xx

Lando x quadrant fem reader

Blurb: reader is a member of quadrant, she games most of the time but also likes f1 along with her best friend Ria bish. She is friends with all members at quadrant and finds it a good laugh with all her mates, but maybe her view of someone in particular is more than a mate..

Warnings: sexualising, swearing, mention of a gun, leaked tape, sad distraught reader, friends to maybe lovers if I make it a series? Smut-ish? If I missed any let me know (I don’t know how to do warnings sorry x)

I woke up late again today. The mornings aren’t made for me. I just can’t do it. I love the feeling of sinking into my bed for 20 hours. But I can’t today, I have 4 people with cameras recording waiting for me to bloody get up and start filming a video for quadrant. But I’m not complaining because this is my job and something I like to do. I try to be in most videos and do my part, but it’s not like Lando gets that mad if I miss a few videos, but from my fucked sleep schedule, I don’t think he will like if I miss another one after I skipped the last 3.

I realise the time and see Lando, Ria, Ethan, and Max spamming my phone to get on. Fucking hell. I don’t even think to get changed, i just checked all my lash extensions were on, tied up my hair, and brushed my teeth. I probably look like shit but I did this to myself. “Better late than never I guess” max says rudely to take the piss out of me. Everyone knows my bad sleep schedule and how moody I am in the morning and after he’s done that, I’m not having it.

“Sorry guys my alarm didn’t go off but I’m here now ahaha” you say trying not to make an unhinged comment to clap back at max. “Y/n girl I missed you where have u fucking been!” Ria says. Ria is my bitch, we ride together, we die together, Ria is my best friend. “Me too Ria!” I say back politely.

“Alright enough mucking about we have to record this video mate” Ethan jokingly says and makes Ria and I laugh. “What r we even playing again” i question. “we are playing gartic phone you muppet” Lando tries to say but starts laughing at Y/n. “Why r u laughing mate” I say confused then realise wtf I’m doing. I’m wearing my pajamas, not my normal pajamas my fucking tiny, tight lace top that could pass for a bra if you squint your eyes. It hits me and I shit myself realising I have a camera filming me and recording everything.

“Omg I’m so sorry fuck I forgot let me change” I panicked in saying quickly. “Who said to change” Lando bluntly says. I was stopped in your tracks. Excuse me? Lando? As if he just said that. “Um my tits are almost exposed on camera and i look like a hoe” I say. My manager is definitely gonna get me in trouble for that. “Woah y/n you fucking hottie” Ria says when she looks at me from my camera. I get nervous in my stomach and naturally run to go grab a hoodie, luckily i live in a small apartment so it didn’t take me long. “Um sorry guys sorry let’s just move on I forgot sorry sorry” i say nervously.

“Yeah alright let’s go I’ll send you the link Y/n” Ethan kindly says which is unlike him being a dickhead most of the time as a joke to piss me off. I like Ethan though I think he’s funny and actually caring about us all and our business. “So do we write a prompt then get someone else’s to draw and keep going” max says like he didn’t ask to play it. “Yeah but make it funny about us and f1 the viewers will fucking love it” Lando says. I still can’t believe what Lando said. I join the game and wait for everyone else to join. I started to feel the panic caving in on my chest and texted Lando.

lando wtf was that?

I send quickly

what was what?

He replied back

The fucking comment like I know I’m sorry and shouldn’t have worn that before chucking something on top but why did you say that Lando

I started to let everything out on accident, but I had every right to, he was my friend and said that I should not have changed from my top that was basically lingerie.

fuck I was just joking

He replied back bluntly.

Why do I feel sad that he said that. Did he think I looked bad in it? Did he think I was looking like a hoe? Fuck why did I talk to him like that he’s my boss!

“Alright we’re starting now lock in don’t say any dumb shit” Max says right before filming the intro and starting the game. I don’t know what prompt to write. Then I get an idea to do Ethan and ginge in the sauna with Lando from a video they did a week ago. I submit it and then recieve a prompt. I bursted out laughing when reading it in my head and looking at my atrocious drawing. It’s a drawing following the prompt of Max’s bunda blocking Landos old fiat jolly, but I drew their hair orange on accident. I kept playing the game and do a few more rounds and have a laugh until we stopped recording.

The rest of the day was pretty chill as I was tired and it was a week day so i stayed at home until I feel asleep watching a movie. I wanted to get sleep like I always do but extra sleep tonight because tomorrow we were all hanging out for lunch and a chat to talk about future video ideas. Was it bad I wanted to look really good? Surely not right?

I woke up and this time remembered to change my top. I picked out a cute off the shoulder knit long sleeve top and some jeans. They made me look good with my tanned skin and made me feel just as good. I straightened my hair, brushed my teeth, and did my makeup ready to go to the cafe we were meeting up at. We always watch the video our editor puts together while we meet up at the cafe spot every week, it’s basically a routine.

Ria and I hugged each other then went to the table both fashionably late. I saw Lando, Steve, Aarav, Max, and Ethan sitting there on the big table with two spots saved. One next to Steve, and one next to Lando. After my short blunt convo with Lando I decided I wanted to sit next to Steve, but that was overruled when Ria already sat down. Well fuck isn’t this awkward. Can I order a gun?

“Hi Y/n” he says looking at me. Why is my stomach already curling into a ball. “Um hi Lando” I say quietly. I am a bit too close to home for my liking as the table was a bit small but it’s fine. We all ordered our food and I ordered some avocado toast trying to be healthy and aesthetic knowing well I end up eating some of everyone else’s food lol. Lando like the child he is ordered pancakes.

“Im sorry about what i said yesterday, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything it just came out im sorry”. Lando says politely. Did I misinterpret his message? Why is he nice now? Why is my stomach tied up into knots? WHY AM I WEAK IN THE KNEES?

“Oh it’s all good I’m sorry idk why it didn’t click to change out of that fucking slutty top like a normal person” I blurt out. “Woah why are you so hard on yourself, calm down Y/n it’s completely fine and it was a nice top anyways, it looked good on you.” he said. EXCUSE ME? “Thanks?” I said confused. Thank fuck the food came otherwise I would have fainted at the awkwardness.

The food was good, Lando didn’t talk nor did I the rest of the lunch. Then we watched the video that came out. My heart sinks. The start of the video showing our cameras in the intro has me at the start or the whole morning, in that fucking top on YouTube. “Wait-fuck what why am I in there wearing that how did the editor get that clip it’s not even from the same time frame. I panicked. I was about to cry. All the comments were already flooding in hating on me saying I was attention seeking in that top. “Please get it down, please please ” I started crying already in Rias arms. Lando looked angry. “Who the fuck put that clip of her in it” he said angrily. He calls the editor who made the video on speaker. 0.00001 seconds after the editor answer Lando is already yelling.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU PUT THAT CLIP OF Y/N YOU DIDNT EVEN ASK HER OR CARE YOU PURPOSELY DID IT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST DID! GET IT DOWN NOW”. Lando yells before hanging up knowing the editor got the message. I’m are still shaking and trying to not bawl your eyes out with just a few tears. “Lando it’s my fault you didn’t have to yell at him like that sorry” i say weakly. “NO ITS NOT YOUR FAULT BECAUSE YOU DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT WAS FILMED AND CLIPPED YET AND HE PURPOSELY DID IT, ITS LIKE HE WANTED TO HURT YOU. FUCKING DICKHEAD”. Lando yells. Out of instinct i just run and give him a long hug. My head sinks to his chest. He holds me tightly as i hold onto him for a while.

I go back to your apartment that night. I’m just sad. Especially after reading all those comments about me. I try to ignore them all but they keep flooding in like rapid fire. I automatically give in and go on my phone. But to my confusion I’m getting tagged on twitter instead.

Fucking hell. When I thought this couldn’t get worse.

There is a video going around with hundreds of thousand of retweets already. It’s a sex tape of a girl which confuses me so I click onto it. Oh my god. It’s a deep fake of my face and that lacy bra thing on a random sex tape. I can’t do this anymore. I wish I didn’t exist. Naturally i call our quadrant group chat. Everyone answers immediately leaving me to realise they have seen it too. “Guys, I am fired” I say while bawling my eyes out. “Y/N I’m coming now with Lando” Ria says while in her car on her way to my apartment. I can’t even process what Ethan and Steve are saying cause my mind is just blurry and I’m a mess.

5 minutes later a knock is on my door and it’s Ria with Lando. I just cry in her arms and start rambling on about how my life is over. “Y/n that editor is going to jail, the YouTube vid is down and all of our socials are deactivated for now, talk to us if you need now” Lando says calmly to me. I just hug him tightly. “Can you tell everyone that’s obviously not me please” I say weakly. Ria is making me mac and cheese cause she knows it’s my favourite. “Of course I will and I will get this fixed Y/n for now just let us take care of you and get better.” Lando says. His touch is making me feel better if I’m being honest. “Thanks guys for coming over tonight, can you guys stay I’ll sleep on the couch and you guys take my bed” I say calmly as I’m starting to get her my bearings and feel a little better about everything.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch.” Lando and Ria both say straight away after my words. “Lando has a race next week so he should fuck his back up on the couch again like he did that one night he got drunk at the club last month” Ria says jokingly. “Is it okay if I’m in the bed with you?” Lando says maturely (shocking I know). “Yeah it’s fine if it is fine with you” I say back. “Yes it’s completely fine.” Lando replied quickly. I go to change into my pajamas. I see that bloody top. I don’t think twice after ripping it into pieces with my hands and teeth before chucking it out. “Fuck that ahahha” I said laughing as all the lace misses the bin but I ignore it. Ria Lando and I all start watching a movie together, Ria asks me which movie and I try to think of a normal movie I want to watch but I’m not sure why ratatouille is speaking out to me but I choose ratatouille like the wise mature person I am. Lando starts laughing obnoxiously which makes Ria and I start to as well. “It’s a good fucking movie shut up” I say defending myself laughing.

We are watching ratatoullie all together while I’m snuggled up in between Ria and Lando feelin comfortable and safe. My mind starts to forget a little bit about the stupid video situation. I don’t know why but my legs somehow ended up over landos. Whoopsies. I feel happy and safe with him, he had always been a good friend to me and always fun to be around. We all get tired after the movie ends and go to bed to sleep, well Ria goes to the couch to sleep.

Something inside of me wishes this isn’t the last time Lando is in my bed.

I myself am going to bed too xx

thanks to these lovely authors who inspired me to write ahahahha:

@mariahcarreyyy @f1goat @uglyducklingofthe2000s @vivwritesfics

#lando norris #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #fanfic #f1 #lando fic #quadrant

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multicohn · 2 months ago

Text

summary: taehyun likes y/n, but he kept his feelings hidden knowing how taboo it is for idols to date, but he can’t resist, especially when people think she’s dating jisung from nct dream

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD! PLEASE CORRECT ME IF YOU SEE A MISTAKE 🙏 swearing?. not really a warning, but it’s mentioned that you are born in 2002 so sorry if you’re older or younger ( like me )

pairing: fem! idol! reader x kang taehyun ( platonic! park jisung x reader mentioned )

genre: angst, fluff

author note: wrote this at like 2am but just posted cause my phone has been acting up which is why this is so rushed. i’ll probably switch to my laptop if it does this again.

ALSO! comment some ideas for a beomgyu imagine / one shot cause he’s the only from i don’t have a draft for :( ( sorry to all the beomgyu stans reading )

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

it was only normal for y/n and jisung to become close — they’re the same age and debuted only a month apart, but it was their members who pushed them into a friendship considering their shy and introverted personalities. the two slowly got over their shyness and became good friends — well, each other’s only friends.

y/n didn’t mind being surrounded by the company of her members or jisung and the other dreamies. you truly can’t trust anyone in the industry, and they were all she needed anyways.

when their company merged with hybe labels, y/n didn’t pay much attention to it. she would awkwardly meet some trainees or fellow idols when navigating her way through, but it was only short greetings before they continued on their way.

“oh, hi” y/n bowed politely as taehyun from tomorrow by together came into the elevator. it was obvious he had been sweating due to his wet hair and y/n was thankful she wore a mask and hat / beanie

“your comeback is soon, right?” they had quite a few floors to go down and y/n wasn’t sure why she started talking out of the blue — it definitely startled them both

“yeah”

“i wish you great success” taehyun smiled before the elevator dinged signally that they had arrived, she bowed and exited. once y/n heard the door shut, she smacked her palm against her forehead

“i wish you great success? what the fuck was that?” she groaned and pulled her hat / beanie down

“she hopes it’s a success” taehyun muttered happily to himself

it was no secret to his members ( and some eagle eyed fans / delusional shippers ) that taehyun is rather fond their senior. he use to have a small crush on her, but it blossomed overtime now they were under the same company. the tiktok challenges they shot gave them an opportunity to grow closer, but y/n hasn’t participated in one with him yet. it was never arranged on who would be dancing with them, but he always secretly hoped that it would be her.

unfortunately, it never was.

taehyun knew he would never have a chance; their careers speak for themselves, but sometimes he’d find himself day dreaming about what it’d be like to have a girlfriend, and instead of some random girl — it always turned out to be y/n who he would admire from behind before they turned around.

in his dream, they would be standing barefoot on top of the flowery grass hall and the would be sun shining down on her to give her an angel like glow, when she turned around, all he saw was y/n's face.

is he delusional? yeah, probably.

“there you are” huening spoke making everyone turn towards him

“didn’t think you’d stay back for so long” yeonjun commented as took a seat on the coach in the recording room

“got distracted” he shrugged

“what? looking at pics of our senior” beomgyu teased and taehyun glared at him making beomgyu pretend to be hurt

“isn’t she dating jisung from nct?”

that.

that’s another reason he wouldn’t tell her.

her and jisung were basically glued together whenever they met at events. it didn’t matter if their groups were placed far away from another, they would somehow find a way to be next to each other. fans were spilt on thinking the pair is cute and adore their friendship to being upset over how close they are and thinking they’re in a relationship.

the companies denied it, but that didn’t stop the assumptions; stolen glances when the other isn’t looking, smiling at seeing them on the big screen, singing their lines, so many instances that fans brought when they thought they were dating.

sadly, it caused a rift between y/n and jisung’s public friendship and they had to kept their interactions to a minimal. everyone saw how it affected them, they were each other’s only friend outside of their respective groups.

“she isn’t” taehyun didn’t know. no one knew except y/n and jisung — maybe their members too

huening shrugged and went to back playing on his phone while beomgyu and yeonjun gave him a knowing look.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n liked txt.

well, she didn’t have any reason not to.

they were nice and she got along with most of them, except for taehyun. they barely talked or even interacted, jisung says that he might just be shy around girls, but y/n isn’t too sure about that.

“hey, y/n. are you and jisung dating?”

“what happened to hi? hello? good morning?” she questioned her label mate who sat down with a tray of food in front of him

“just wondering” y/n narrowed her eyes at him

“why?”

“like i said — just wondering”

the whole situation is weird.

they’re acquaintances at most. sure, she has his number, but they’ve only texted each other to congratulate the other about something and nothing else.

why is he sitting in front of her and asking her if she’s dating jisung?

“no?” he nodded and continued eating, but y/n just stared. an unsettled feeling rose within her as she glazed over the cafeteria to see if ( member name ) was coming back from the bathroom or one of his members was looking for him

"oi, beomgyu" y/n let out a small sigh of relief upon seeing taehyun make his way towards him. she felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders as she shamelessly stared into his beautiful dark brown eyes

beomgyu noticed and smirked, if taehyun wasn't going to do anything, he would.

"we have an off day tomorrow before we officially start our promotions" y/n raised an eyebrow as taehyun pulled him up harshly and whispered something she couldn't make out, but he looked angry

"am i... attracted to this?"

"taehyun would love for you to spend some time with him" taehyun froze. if they were anywhere else, he would've strangled beomgyu by now

"i-" she started but was interrupted by ( member name )

"y/n would love too!"

"why are you excited about this?" she whispered to her but was ignored

"cool, i'll text you his number" beomgyu picked up his tray and walked by while taehyun stood in shock

"sorry" he quickly spat out and bowed in embarrassment

"its okay! we are the same age, right? it wouldn't hurt..."

"beomgyu you're so fucking lucky that worked"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

it was awkward.

the pair were in the comfort of a small studio, but were sitting quite a few centimeters apart. y/n had basically been shoved in by her members before they slammed the door shut and ran away, she should've chased after them, but didn't want to be rude and leave taehyun who lit up at seeing her.

"hi"

"hey"

the only sound that filled the small room is from taehyun's card shuffling. y/n liked card games and were often played between her and her members at their dorm, travelling somewhere, or hotel rooms. all of them each carried their own unique set just in case.

"wanna see a magic trick?" y/n tilted her head, but shrugged

she didn't really believe in magic. they were too obvious or simply dumb —

where did that coin from?

her eyes widened as taehyun pulled out a coin from out of nowhere. he wasn't even wearing a shirt with long enough sleeves to hide it; there's no way.

"ho-how did you do that?" y/n asked in confusion, amazement, a hint of fear that was small enough for taehyun not to notice

he shrugged, "magic"

that's it?

seriously?

"there's no way" she wasn't convinced, "there's got to be a trick to it all" taehyun just smiled

"i can teach you?" he offered and y/n paused, doubtful it could be easy

"really? i don't exactly have good hands or a pretty face to distract my audience" taehyun raised an eyebrow, y/n didn't seem to register what she had just said. feeling oddly confident, he leaned towards her with his hands flicking through the deck of cards

"i have a pretty face?"

"yeah"

it was so... simple. the way she said it.

"i say the same thing to jisung, it just makes him annoyed though. gotta step up my tactics, ya know?"

taehyun thought this was going somewhere, but then jisung's name slipped past her lips and he felt like he was back at square one. all the progress he was going to make? gone. vanished.

"are you okay? do you not feel well?" he met the concerned gaze that swam in your ( eye colour ) eyes, reaching a hand out to feel his cheek before moving to his forehead

"it is a bit warm, so you're probably just flushed. it happens to ( member name or yourself ) a lot"

taehyun gulped.

his normal sense of confidence dwindled a bit, but he was determined to at least tell y/n how he felt before his members actually go through with their own plan of telling her about his feelings.

he knew they would. beomgyu especially was sick of hearing how amazing she sounded in their latest comeback or how he caught a glimpse of her in the hallway and had to steady himself with the wall as to not collapse from her beauty.

y/n's members on the other hand were more ecstatic about taehyun's potential crush on her than she was. he's handsome, sings well, dances well, kind; what more could you want? they had asked. y/n wasn't experienced in crush culture, from training since she was young and having to avoid any kind of interaction with every male idol around her, she wasn't certain that thinking someone looked good was enough to consider them a crush.

their company hadn't said that they were free to date, but since they've been around for over five years, she thinks it might be okay.

"y/n"

"yeah?"

"i like you"

“okay, maybe this was a bad idea” taehyun thought as y/n just stared, wide eyed at his confession.

"what?" she asked in disbelief

"forget it" he shook his head and stood up, trying to quickly make his way past her and towards the door

but, she reached out grabbed his wrist.

"wait- taehyun!" he refused to look back, afraid of the rejection that was coming his way

"look, we-we can work something out?” she questioned

y/n didn’t mind the idea of dating taehyun, but the amount of things that could go wrong made her nervous.

“i-“ she bit her lip not wanting to admit that he’s the first and only person who’s taken an interest in her romantically, “-can we even work? our careers?”

“we work in the same building”

“you can’t trust everyone. i’ve never had a boyfriend or-or even a crush!” taehyun turned and y/n finally let go

“look. maybe you’re better off liking someone else, someone who’s actually dated before” she suggested, but taehyun was having none of it

“i don’t care, i want you”

she felt herself growing warm as he stared into her eyes. the eyes he could go on about how they twinkle beneath the lights and how he swears there are stars present — before soobin cut off him saying that it’s probably just the effect of lighting.

y/n took a deep breath and grabbed his hand lightly.

“i guess we can try” he lit up and y/n couldn’t help but smile

“jisung’s going to freak when i tell him”

she could never leave her best friend out.

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tjbanni · 1 month ago

Text

Emil has got to go.

Recently the news came out that Emil Pagliarulo was responding to criticism of the new Starfield expansion pack by coping and arguing with people who have legitimate concerns about what the hell is going on at Bethesda. Since day one people have wondered why big empty worlds are supposed to be appealing, why the writing is as lackluster as it is, and now: why the Shattered Space DLC feels like it’s just an underwhelming part of the base game that was ripped out and sold separately a year later.

To briefly go over Emil’s history: he’s been working at BGS since the days of Oblivion and has been credited with writing the Dark Brotherhood questline of Oblivion, the main quest of Skyrim, the main quests of Fallout 3 and 4, and is now the design director of Fallout 76 and Starfield. And I swear the only reason he got as far as he is now is because of people praising the Oblivion DB quest (which I’ll get into, don’t worry).

These days Emil likes to talk about how Starfield is the best game that Bethesda has ever made and that the DLC may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s okay, because the small fanbase of Starfield is growing, I guess.

Starfield is the best game we’ve ever made

How’s that, again? What’s it best at?

Biggest world Bethesda has made? Debatably; there’s still Daggerfall.

Is it the best because of the combat? Sure, but the combat system for Fallout 4 was 10 years out of date on arrival.

The facial animation? Sometimes breaks and looks like Bioshock Infinite when it actually does work.

The characters? Safe and inoffensive when you’ve made literal psychopaths likeable in the past.

The save file management system? Doesn’t even bother to save a screenshot of where you were in the game when you saved.

If this is the best Bethesda game, it didn’t have anything to do with Emil Pagliarulo.

When it comes to the new DLC: a lot of people (myself included) thought this would be like the Far Harbor DLC of Fallout 4, where it featured some great content that made up for the lacking core content. That was our cope for the last few months.

Now the DLC is out and not only does it somehow perform horrendously, but people are talking about how Andreja — a character who should have some interesting things to say about the setting of this DLC — is barely utilized, how the DLC contains about five hours of worthwhile hand-crafted content surrounded by procedurally-crafted slop. Who was in charge of the design of the DLC? It wasn’t Will Shen; it was Emil Pagliarulo.

And why was Emil Pagliarulo put in a position to handle such big projects? Honestly, I don’t know, because he never proved that he could handle something like this.

Starfield doesn’t have any intelligent alien life, political conflict, hard-hitting questions, or NPCs you can kill unless the script says you can. It’s a game about being a nobody who happens upon a rock that unlocks superpowers and the secret of inter-universal travel — and the reason why is because Bethesda unironically believes people want to live in their games.

Fallout 4 is about a parent who wakes up in the post-apocalypse and tries to weave their way through contrivances and side quests to find that their son is now in charge of a robot-making company.

Skyrim is about a person of prophecy who has superpowers for some reason because a dragon wants to eat the world for some reason and also you must either kill the only good dragon in the world or leave the person telling you to kill him stuck in a cave for eight years — or at least that’s what I did.

Fallout 3 is about a kid trying to find their dad — an inversion of Fallout 4. Originally this game ended with that kid dying, which led Bethesda to learn the wrong lesson about how to make people keep playing their games beyond the main story when they added DLC that spared this kid character’s life. This game also introduced a morality system because ERR MEH GERD SHOULD I BLOW UP THESE INNOCENT TOWN PEOPLE OR NO??

And then there is Oblivion. Emil didn’t write the contrived main quest for that, but he was in charge of the Dark Brotherhood questline: a questline that starts if you murder an NPC for no reason. This quest was highly praised, but I’m starting to think people are only praising this quest in hindsight because of how lackluster the Skyrim version of it was. This quest introduced the classic Emil Pagliarulo twist: where, in this game’s case, you find out you’ve been a pawn in the game of an edgy Hot Topic customer who lives with rotting animal carcasses — someone who orders you to get all the stupid quirky two-dimensional people in the DB hideout out of his way.

Everyone loves this questline because a lot of people think a narrative twist is a substitute for good writing. Sorry to tell you this, but: no.

I’m speaking as someone who liked all the games I criticized here when I say once more: Emil Pagliarulo has got to go.

#rant #Bethesda #Starfield #fallout #the elder scrolls #spoiler warning #long post

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ultralightpoe · 2 years ago

Note

hear me out hear me out, tear you apart by she wants revenge. thinking very enemies to lovers hate fuckin kinda thing. obviously its really up to you but this song is very hot lol

Tear You Apart- Aemond Targaryen

Description: Aemond hates you and you hate him, but why did he feel so freaking good all the time

Authors Note: BUCKLE IN BITCHES! Also my requests are open for April, take a look at this post to see the request event and send some in! Happy April!

Warnings: Smut, adultery, fun fun fun

Word Count: 2924

Enjoy!

Got a big plan, this mindset maybe its right

At the right place and right time, maybe tonight

And the whisper or handshake sending a sign

Wanna make out and kiss hard, wait never mind

Alicent was punishing him. Not that she would ever admit to it, or he could ever prove, but it was just something he knew. Because there was absolutely no reason that you should be seated next to him as this gods forsaken dinner.

Aemond had known you had entered the second his spine locked up, nervousness and anxiety racking through him as he risked a glance in your direction to see that you were already looking at him. You had walked in, a smarmy smile laced on your face, with your arm laced through your new husbands and a dazzling necklace across your neck.

You squinted a bit at him before turning to whisper something in your husband's ear and Aemond found himself squeezing the goblet in his hand and trying his best not to sneer or rip his nephew's head off.

You had chosen the bastard over him. How pathetic. So scared of your own emotions that you ran to the easiest target rather than facing the fucking truth.

A smug feeling filled his chest at the thought of you moaning his name while in bed with his cowardly nephew, that feeling quickly being washed away by the sound of his mothers voice. “Lady Y/n, how radiant you look. Dare I say….glowing?”

His hand tightened across the goblet again, red blinding his sight before you answered with a small laugh. “Not yet, but not from lack of trying. I swear.”

Your voice was bragging and he tried not to laugh. As if his nephew could actually give you any form of pleasure. Not after you had Aemond.

“I do apologize for our seating arrangement, you are in between my two boys tonight for the meal.” Alicent smiles before passing you and moving to greet her old friend. You turn to Aemond and give him a polite smile before turning to Jacaerys and kissing his cheek.

Before Aemond could remove himself from the table your husband was blocking his path, pulling out your chair for you and kissing your head, leaning down to mutter a soft “Remember the plan” before moving to his own side of the table.

Aemond loses sight of him the second he is away from you, because he cannot seem to drag his eyes anywhere else. Gods, he hated you. Hated everything about you. From the perfect hair to the gorgeous eyes all the way to the natural way you seemed to win everyone over. Witch.

You move your head to make eye contact and the second you do his heart stops dead in his chest. It was annoying that you still had this power over him.

“If you look any closer you might burn right through me….prince.” You smile, batting your eyelashes the way you always knew riled him up. It was like you enjoyed pissing him off.

“Good. Last I checked we were supposed to burn the witches.” He replies, trying to keep a nonchalant attitude. He knew the second the smile laced your features that he was correct, you really did enjoy pissing him off.

“Well since I am a witch I feel quite free to lie. By the way, your eye patch looks dashing tonight. Really brings out the purple of your eye.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe if you play nice with your nephews I’ll take pity on you.”

He was so close to responding before everyone else took their seats and he was left in silence while you turned your attention to the king. Only you weren’t actually paying attention.

You played it normal, and Aemond nearly jumped out of his skin when your hand met his under the table, a soft touch from your pinky onto his.

He tears his hand away, turning to glare at you before you roll your own and lean back, a heat traveling across his skin when you wink.

You were mocking him. He knew it.

“Aemond, is it true that you and Lady Y/n grew up together?” Lord Stark asks, forcing Aemond to drag his eyes away from you.

“Indeed. We had studies together.” You answer for him, smiling lightly as you leant forward to grab your goblet.

“I taught her everything she knows.” Aemond says this as he looks to his nephew, that smug feeling returning again as his nephew sneers. That’s right, I made her cum long before you.

When he glances back to you, the conversation moving away from him finally, you are already staring at him once again. This time your eyes are hooded, and he knows that you caught on to his jab.

“I believe I taught you a few useful tricks myself.” You whisper, before turning away to talk to the person on your right.

His entire body is aflame at the memories and a harsh anger rises in him. Of course you would do this, marry his nephew then rub it in his face.

You had led him on. You had tore him up as though it was nothing.

Late night, and passing, mention it flipped her

Best friend, who knows saying maybe it slipped

But the slip turns to terror and a crush to light

When she walked in, he froze up, believe its the fright

You ignored his existence the rest of dinner, not that Aemond minded because he got many opportunities to glance at you this way.

He watched the way you fixed your hair and the way your hand caresses the bodice of your dress when you bring it back down. He looks at the exposed part of your neck before his eyes catch on the pulse point.

How easy it would be to just lean over and bite you the way he knows you like. How easy it would be to reach his hand up your skirt and- Your eyes cast to him before he can finish the thought and he soon realizes that everyone is staring at him.

“I apologize, I seem to have dazed off.” He rushes out, trying not to get embarrassed under your gaze. “I do not feel well, I believe I should return to my chambers.”

Before anyone could argue his request he is out of the chair, burning through the room and heading to his own chambers across the keep. It was uncomfortable to walk due to the aching hard on he now wore, and he was desperate to make it to his rooms to fix this problem.

He felt like a stupid fool. You probably barely thought of him, and here he was pining after you. Pining after the traitor.

By the time he pushes the door to his chambers his chest is heaving and every piece of him feels as though it is on fire. Ragged breaths consumed him as his fingers worked to tear off his leathers.

“Fuck.” He curses, when his finger snags on the leather of his riding pants, hopping out of his boots to hop on the bed. His back hits the cushion of it and he stares at the ceiling for a moment so he could calm down and focus.

He could not think about you. He hated you. You betrayed him and he hated you-

Before he could stop himself he reached down, a moan slipping from his lips as he touched himself, your face flashing in his mind. No no no. This was wrong and he hated you.

But that didn’t stop him from sitting up, working himself faster as he imagined you above him, moaning to him just as you used to at the speed you liked- fuck Y/n. fuck fuck fu-

Y/n.

You were there. In the doorway with wide eyes and a blush on your cheeks as he stopped short, a ragged whine passing his lips when he realized.

Its cute in a way, till you cannot speak

And you leave to have a cigarette, your knees get weak

An escape is just a nod and a casual wave

Obsessed about it, heavy for the next two days

“I wasn’t…” The lie begins to slip from his lips before he can stop it, but halfway through he realizes that he shouldn’t have to lie. You had seen him do this countless times, how was today different?

You were married. And you shouldn’t be here. “Leave.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes welling up as you take a step back before you turn. Only you don’t leave, when your hand touches the door you risk a glance over your shoulder to where he is still sitting, still completely bare to you. “I’m sorry you hate me.”

“I’m not.” He sneers, face heating as your eyes track across his body. “You are a lying whore.”

“Indeed.”

“And you took everything I gave you and threw it away.”

“If that’s what you believe.”

You stared, unmoving, as he stood and walked closer. Everything in him screamed to pull you close and he was infuriated that even after all this time he still craved your touch. He still dreamt of having you in his sheets just as you used to.

“You should leave.” He whispers, his chest meeting yours as he looks down on you, hands clenched at his sides to keep from grasping them in your hair like he wanted.

“I should.” You reply, leaning your nose up to touch against his. The second your skin meets his he is gone, hands whipping up to your hair as he pulls you in for a rough and ragged kiss.

It's only just a crush, it'll go away

It's just like all the others it'll go away

Or maybe this is danger and he just don't know

You pray it all away but it continues to grow

Maybe if he just got you out of his system it would be better. He could hate you from a distance after this and everything would be fine. But the moment his lips touch your own he knows he is a goner.

A warmth bleeds through his chest as you kiss back, your hands wrapping around to pull him closer by his back and he pushes you both forward until you are pressed against the door. A grunt pushes through him when his hands travel your body, lifting your skirt to touch the back of your thighs and help you hop up.

Tearing yourself away to catch your breath gives him a moment to stare at you, the smug feeling returning once again. “Where is your husband?”

“Don’t ask.” You gasp, pulling him back in for another kiss. He stabilizes you both so you can reach and undo your corset, biting his lip harshly and making him groan out.

“I hate you-”

“I hate you more.” He enjoyed the way you gasped that out, allowing him to suck at your neck as both of you begin grinding into each other. “Aemond please-”

“Please what?”

I want to hold you close

Skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl

So lovely, it feels so right

“Aemond.” You try again, leaning to catch his head in your hands and pull him up to face you. “I’m so-”

“That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.” He seethes, pushing your skirt up higher. “I don’t want to hear your fake fucking apologies.”

And then the dam breaks and you are rushing forward to kiss him again, your teeth clash against each other and you bite down harshly before pulling back, eyes hooded. “Then fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me.”

I want to hold you close

Soft breasts, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear

I want to fucking tear you apart

He doesn’t waste any time, dragging you both to the bed and slamming you across the sheets, laying on top of you with a fire in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “This is familiar.”

A small laugh tears from your throat when he grips your corset and tears it in half, growling a bit as he moves to your skirt. The sound of cloth ripping fills the room and you sit up quickly, snatching the eye patch off his face before he can fight it.

A hand wraps around your wrist tightly, dragging the patch back. “No. I want to see you, Aemond.” You argue, keeping your arm tight as he grunts out before finally letting go.

He can’t argue that, nor can he argue the proud feeling he gets from those words, instead he crawls up your body until you are nose to nose. You smile at him and for a moment he can imagine himself back to the moments you used to have, before you were married off.

“Breathe.” He whispers, just like he always had, before he is pushing himself into you. A groan escapes him at the same time you gasp out, hands scratching along his back as he fills you fully and for the first time in a long time he felt at home,

It disgusted him.

“I hate you.”

“Then show me.” You laugh and he gives in.

Then he walked up and told her, thinking that he'd passed

And they talked and looked away a lot, doing the dance

Her hand brushed up against his, she left it there

Told him how she felt and then they locked in a stare

The room filled with grunts and the heavy sound of skin slapping, Aemonds hands landing on the bed above both your shoulders to keep you trapped close to him as his hips snapped into you over and over.

“You’re…..a….fucking whore-” He seethes, grunting louder as you moan out. “A fucking traitor.”

He laughs when you come undone, moving to lean down closer and press his nose to your cheek when you turn away. “I’m not done yet.”

They took a step back, thought about it, what should they do

'Cause there's always repercussions when you're dating in school

But their lips met, and reservations started to pass

Whether this was just an evening or a thing that would last

He takes you over and over, telling himself each time would be the last, but he couldn’t get enough. It was like a beast that had been let out of its cage and was ravaging anything it possibly could.

By the time he had his fill, 5 rounds later when the sun began coming up, he let you sleep beside him as he kept you close. His hand laid on your thigh as you curled yourself up, breathing evenly as you dreamt.

Just one more kiss and he would be good. He would be rid of this craving, he swears it.

But when his lips touched your forehead very softly he closed his eyes and held them there, mentally begging himself to just get up and never touch you again. He hates you.

“A traitorous whore.” You murmur, eyes still closed, and his eyebrows pop up in surprise. “That’s what you are thinking. I know it.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Either way he wanted her and this was bad

He wanted to do things to her it was making him crazy

Now a little crush turned into a like

And now he wants to grab her by the hair and tell her

You left the next morning in one of his tunics, with a limp in your step that had his heart beating quickly but he ignored it, holding a hand to his chest to try and stop it.

When the door shuts he turns back to the bed, shoving his nose in the pillow you had slept and and imagined if you could stay, if you had married him instead.

Pathetic.

I want to hold you close

Skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl

So lovely, it feels so right

The halls were filled with people cheering and wearing flower crowns, the courtyard filled with twice as much music.

Aemond sat under the tree feeling sick and angry.

They were celebrating you, or rather your child. The news had passed quickly that you had begun your labors in the early hours of the day, with Rhaenyra by your side and your ‘devoted husband’.

“Brother!” Helaena calls, snapping him out of his moping. “Come!”

Ever the attentive brother he stands, moving to follow her through the halls as she holds her baby in her hands. She talks his ear off as they join their mother, her face pulled into a tight frown.

The two ladies lead him to Rhaenyras chambers, where you are laid out on the bed with sweat covering your skin and a small bundle in your arms. Rhaenyra is giving you the widest smile he has ever seen his sister give and many people are congratulating Jahaerys.

“Have you heard the good news?” A Lord asks, leaning in to whisper to Aemond. “Lady Y/n has delivered a Targaryen. White hair and all.”

Memories of your last night flash together, of Jahearys asking you about a plan and you showing up to his rooms.

A wide smile covers his face when he looks up to find you already staring at him, a knowing and tired look on your own features. Oh, how he hated you.

#aemond #targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond ta #aemond tar #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond stannies #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine

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janiedean · 6 months ago

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bro honestly i had to say it.... referring to the israeli occupation of palestine as israel/palestine DISCOURSE is very... improper. from a political, historical and maybe even humanitarian standpoint. you're not obligated to, but i suggest you read something from pappè/khalidi/said/kadman <3 it's important in this day and age to be educated on this matter

anon thank you for the recs which I will check out because I’m interested in reading on the topic in general (I read said in university btw I’m not completely out of touch) but like…. I wasn’t talking about THAT ^^’

the post in question was about the whole k*ndrick vs dr*ke debate and I will absolutely call it discourse when it’s 6k notes of people arguing in a circle while not giving a single source for us foreigners who are not familiar with the topic not being us american or not into rap music, i never heard a song from either bc it’s not on my radar and i’d appreciate a source which isn’t saying if you aren’t familiar with that music scene you have a bias (like i don’t listen to rap music bc 99% of rappers sing fast and I’m esl and I can’t follow it, I do listen to some italian rap so…..:…)

and for that matter i spotted the terf bc she said she was allowed in disliking the whole genre bc misogyny so like… next time ask first what it was about if you’re concerned about it instead of presuming? like sorry swear this isnt meant to be passive aggressive but i wouldn’t refer to the the isra*l/p*lestine question as discourse at any point bc i think it’s the most complicated sociopolitical situation in existence atm which requires more nuance and knowledge to discuss on main than I ever have had or will ever, and I don’t think people getting killed nonsensically at that level is discourse nor I ever did, so again thanks for the recs and I’ll see to check them out but like I wasn’t talking abt it in the first place

#ask post #anonymous #and i’m not gonna discuss either thing on main anyway either #i don’t know enough about either but ik the rap music post at that point was just the usual tumblr fake activism #which is why im p sure discourse was an appropriate word for it #but like if it wasn’t clear my mh right now is rock bottom i don’t feel articulate #i tried it for years it just wore me out and i can’t rn #but like honestly thanks for the recs i didn’t know about #and like again i know k. l. must be a good singer while ik drake was a pos bc he texted teenage girls #and was in that pseudo nazi video with nicki m. which is the ONE thing ik about #so i presume whatever KL is saying is correct but like people eating each other abt it #and bringing BUT YOU LIKE THIS OTHER BAND SO ITS BAD :8/#into it #imvho is discourse so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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poursomesunaonme · 1 year ago

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hi i am back with another request for ur promised event hehe. (ty for the first one i treasure it)

but i would like nanami and shape!! really like the endearments sweetheart and baby! u can do whatever u would like with this one!! :-) i’m fine w nsfw or sfw! i love ur writing so i’ll be fine with whatever!!!!

thank uuuu :)

YES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONEEEEE TURN IT UP

cw: angst/comfort, implied suguru x reader in the glory(ish) days

"can you smooth the looping lines / of fingerprints before your time? / patience with the jagged grooves / of relics that i can't remove / one thing washing up to you / kiss me till the cells are moved on my body”

you’d been reluctant to start seeing kento at first. the most important reason was that it was satoru’s idea.

“but you’d be so good together!” he’d practically begged.

you didn’t see the reasoning behind it.

but one day, you finally agreed. it had been a little awkward, but he was polite, chivalrous, and he was so, so kind. you felt safe with him; something you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since that year at tech. a year where everyone was hit by staggering losses. nothing went unfelt. yuu dying, suguru dissenting.

but you went unfeeling for years.

years and years and years until satoru called you up, saying that you and kento should go out. and you couldn’t describe how you felt. apprehension, sure. doubt, of course. excitement… why?

kento had cut himself off after haibara’s death, went off on his own after graduation, swearing off the life of a sorcerer. you’d accepted that. everyone had. but to reappear as a prospect for satoru to play matchmaker was just something so out of the blue and baffling.

you had agreed to satoru’s somewhat blind date out of curiousity, not expecting to be so taken by the way kento had matured. his time spent outside sorcery had helped in grow in a lot of ways that staying trapped in it would hinder. you admired him… maybe you were also jealous.

you’re silent, but content, as you lay in bed with him one night, remembering the first time you’d been intimate. he’d kissed every single scar on your body, leaving no cell untouched.

“seven years,” you whisper out loud, not even meaning to.

“huh?” he looks over at you from reading his book.

“seven years till all the cells on my body are new.”

“i… i suppose so.” he turns over on his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you. “what are you thinking about?”

“him.”

kento breathes deeply, reaching out to stroke your hair. “do you wanna talk about it?”

you shake your head. “not really. just saying. it’s been six years. soon he will never have touched a single cell on my body.”

“you’re right.” kento sighs, stooping down from his post on his elbow to press a kiss into your shoulder. each touch of his lips presses a garden into your skin, a bloom of warmth sprouting from your cells. “may i hold you?”

you nod and are instantly enveloped in his arms as he presses his face into the crook of your neck.

six years of growing and dying, and growing and dying, again and again and again. six years of crying into your pillow, of screaming angrily into the sky hoping he would hear you. six years of cells decomposing and regenerating, over and over to make you new.

and it had been one year of flowering, one year of life, one year of golden sunshine eyes watching over you. kento’s hands were a river and you were a stone. he smoothed over those old grooves of suguru’s fingerprints, smoothed over the edges he had forcefully cut into your heart. he held it gently, caressing it until the cells were shed and life flowed through you once again. he kissed you until you were new, until you were only his.

submissions for the promised event are now closed but you can still click here to go to the nav page

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento x reader #kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #🍀beanie's events #promised event

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waterless-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Of Knights and Demons

Chapter 6

TW: Rape/Non-con, Dark themes, forced marriages, violence and swearing. MINORS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU

This is my first ever fic so please be nice to me, I’ve also got it posted on A03 under the same name in case anybody would like to read it there.

Previous Chapter

You wait a bit awkwardly in the middle of the room, picking at the skin on the top of your hand with your nails. “Gin, you may go, I’ll meet with you in the morning and review everything.” Aizen speaks to Gin while still looking down at his work. You have no idea what he’s working on and want to look, but you know better, he’d told you nothing about the happenings around your kingdom, in fact everything you’d known had come from Grimmjow and you were sure that Aizen wouldn’t be to pleased to know that Grimmjow had told you anything at all. He kept you in the manor with little information on purpose, you figured it was to keep you reliant on him and deter you from trying to escape.

Your eyes fall to Gin and he just nods with that same creepy smile that he always wears, “Alright,” He says politely before giving a small bow. He turns to you still holding that smile, “It was a pleasure seeing you again, short as it was, hopefully next time we’ll have more time to actually catch up.” He tells you before giving you a bow as well.

You mumble out a small thank you and nod to him as well with what you hope is a pleasant smile. You pray that you never have to actually sit and talk with him for long. He leaves and as the door slams shut you realize that it’s just Aizen and you, you fidget a bit again, feeling uncomfortable and tense. He still doesn’t look at you and you start to panic again, the air in the room seems tense and you can’t tell if it’s all in your head or not. You start picking at your hand again nervously. “Have you eaten yet?” Aizen asks abruptly, eyes still focused downward, your eyes dart to him a bit wide at the sudden question.

You shake your head but realize that he’s still not really looking at you, “No, but it’s alright.” You say softly after a second. He’s acting strangely and you desperately want to be anywhere else. You can’t help but feel like a child about to be scolded except you have no idea what you’d done wrong.

Aizen’s brown eyes flick to yours and he raises a brow, “I can have something brought up.” He tells you, finally looking at you. Now that he is looking at you, you wish he’d stop. He seems annoyed, perhaps he’s not upset with you but why would he want to see you if he’s upset anyways?

You shake your head lightly again, you’re not too hungry and you don’t think that you could eat around him with how nervous you were anyways. “I’m alright,” You say and after a second add on, “Thank you for the offer though.” You’re trying not to show how panicked and nervous you were but you were pretty sure you were failing. Aizen had shown an almost uncanny ability to read you and you feared that if you were around him much more that he would figure out what you were planning and that was the last thing you needed.

Aizen holds your gaze for a minute before he lets his eyes fall back to his paperwork. “You’ve been eating again, yes?” He asks idly, as he continues his work.

Your mouth goes dry and you have to swallow before answering, you internally panicking in fear, thinking perhaps that he’d found out about the tea. You don’t know how to respond properly so you just answer with a simple, “Yes.” You feel nauseous and if it were anyone else you’d try to leave but you know it’s hopeless with him, he’ll do what he wants when he wants and doesn’t really care how you feel about it.

He gives a small hum, “Good,” he says with a nod. You wait for him to continue but he waits a few minutes before he does. The minutes feel agonizing as you wait, left with your mind running a thousand miles a minute. You’re trying to keep your expression calm and hope you are but you can’t be certain. He finished writing whatever it is he’s been working on, returns his quill to the ink and leans back in his chair with a sigh. His eyes fall back on you and he lets his eyes roll over you, taking you in fully for the first time since you’d been in his presence as he sets his papers aside in a small tray on the cluttered part of the desk. “You look lovely.” He tells you with a small smile.

“Thank you.” You answer politely. You wish he’d just tell you why he’d wanted you here. The longer the two of you dance around whatever it is the worse you feel. Between being in a new part of the manor and what had gone on this morning you feel incredibly uncomfortable in his presence, more so than normal.

“Come here.” Aizen orders you as he pushes his chair out from his desk. You swallow thickly and do as he says, a bit slowly, but you eventually reach him. You try to stand a few short feet from him but he reaches for your hand and pulls you close enough that you dress brushes lightly against his knee. He rubs small circles into your hand for a few seconds before he looks up to you. “I’ll be leaving in the morning with a small convoy to take care of some business that has arisen with the southern houses.” His information shocks you but you don’t say anything, not wanting to give away how good this news is for you. “Tosen, will stay behind in my place.” He tells you.

He doesn’t say anything and after a second you nod your understanding. Aizen doesn’t tell you how long he’d be gone but you figure it’d be at least a week if not more. You might have a real chance of escaping in his absence, your plan is half baked at best and your not even sure that you’d live long enough to make it to where you were going but you don’t know when another opportunity would arise. You’re a bit wary of him, he’d never told you a thing about what was going on, he was keeping vague but still it was strange. Perhaps he was telling you so you wouldn’t be surprised about his absence but you still couldn’t trust him. He holds your gaze and continues, “Loly will be your guard during the day and Ulquiorra will do so at night, if anything happens or if you need anything they will do as told, Tosen will also be here to assist you if needed.” Aizen tells you sternly.

Before you can stop yourself or even think about it you ask. “Is Grimmjow going with?” You try not to let yourself show emotion on your face as you realize your mistake. You don’t know why you’d asked and chalk it up to the fact that he’d be significantly more difficult to escape than Loly and it would be easier for you if he wasn’t stalking around somewhere. You’d been with Grimmjow all day and he hadn’t said anything, he’d told you the previous time he’d left and with everything he’d told you today you couldn’t stop yourself from being a tiny bit upset that he hadn’t said he was going somewhere. You stop yourself from thinking like that and try to focus on what’s going on in front of you rather than what Grimmjow had and hadn’t told you.

Aizen’s eyes narrow a bit but whatever he’s thinking he doesn’t voice and instead he just answers your question, “No, Grimmjow and a few others have another job to attend to.” He tells you. You figure that he will again be going to hunt Renji and the rest of the people that still need to be recaptured. You really hope that enough time has passed that they’ve made it to where ever it is that Renji and the people with him were headed.

His thumb is still running circles on the top of your hand and you realize he’s waiting for you to say something, “Thank you for telling me.” You say quietly, trying to play nice with him. You don’t want him suspicious of you. You’re sure that the question about Grimmjow had raised some alarm and you wanted to try to remedy that as best you can. You don’t want him to be suspicious of you, you think idly about what Grimmjow had said about spreading your legs for him but quickly shut that down. You wouldn’t do that, especially not here, where anyone could walk by and hear and where Grimmjow would for sure hear. You don’t think that you’d ever truly have the nerve to initiate something like that with him, you didn’t want his attention, it always left you feeling awful about yourself and dirty.

Aizen watches you for a while and you try not to look away or shift awkwardly. “You could be happy here, if you’d let yourself.” He tells you softly. You avert your eyes from him, you won’t ever have a happy life with him. He was a murder, a dictator, a liar and so much more that you would never look past. You don’t want to have this talk with him. You don’t want to run through hypotheticals on what could or couldn’t be, because it wouldn’t be.

You might have been able to be happy with him, if it had happened naturally, if he hadn’t kidnapped you, if he hadn’t done all that he had. So you tell him exactly that with a shake of your head, “I could have been,” you somewhat agree, “But not now… Not like this.” You finish with a long pause. You don’t know if it’s a wise thing to say, the admission behind it and the truth of it, but you can’t think of much else and the need to get it off your chest is too strong.

Aizen just hums in response, he takes a long time to say anything, he keeps his hold on your hand the entire time and all you want to do is pull away but you know better than to try and test him. While Aizen had never been particularly violent with you beside the occasional hair pulling in the bedroom, you knew he was capable of it. You didn’t want to find out what it would take for him to snap. “You will be, one day. Whether you like it or not, you will acclimate.” He’s said it before but he reminds you again all the same.

You huff a small laugh, you truly don’t understand how he could think that, you certainly don’t feel that way. You spend most of your time trying to figure out how to escape from him and while you are aware that he doesn’t know that it still baffles you that he thinks that he just has to wait you out and you’ll be fine. “Do you honestly believe that?” You ask him with a hint of sadness in your voice that you hadn’t meant to let slip.

Aizen rises from his chair, you try to step back and out of his way but his hand catches your wrist and pulls you closer to him. One of his arms snakes around your back, the other grazes your check and pulls your face up to look at his own. “I do,” he confirms, voice soft. “You’ve already started to relax. You’ve begun to eat again, you’re out of bed and you’ve even taken to doing some of your old hobbies.” You start to tell him that none of that means anything but he cuts you off, “You also enjoy our time together, as much as you try to hide it or deny it you do.” Your eyes narrow venomously but Aizen seems content to ignore your reaction. “There’s nothing to be upset about my love, it’s perfectly natural. In fact, I want you to enjoy it.” Goosebumps rise on your skin and you have a sickening feeling of where this is going.

Aizen backs you up a bit, and you try to turn to see where he’s leading you but the hand on your face pulls you back to look at him, “I like when you enjoy it,” he says as he forces you to take another step backwards. “Waking up next to you this morning was such a lovely sight, I don’t know what you were dreaming about but the sight of you all needy and wanting is not one that will leave my mind anytime soon. In fact, I’ve been able to focus on little else all day.” You backside bumps against his desk and both his hands fall to your hips. Within an instant he lifted you and sat you where he had been doing his work. Your hands shoot to his shoulders to try and balance yourself, you gasp and try to pull away but he keeps you seated and slots himself between your legs. “In fact that’s why I’ve called you here, I made you a promise a while ago that I’ve yet to fulfill.” You have no idea what he’s talking about, you don’t remember him making any promises to you, not that the two of you talked all that much but still.

You pull your hands from his shoulders and look at him warily. He gives a small chuckle and runs his hand along the material of your dress and down your covered leg, “You don’t remember do you sweet girl?” He asks in a low voice. You don’t respond, he knows you don’t and you really don’t feel like playing his games today. His hand makes his way back up your leg, pulling your dress up along with it, “I can remind you if you’d like love.” He says as he watches the skin of your leg slowly being exposed to him.

You try desperately to remember what he’s talking about but nothing comes to your mind, you know that he’s watching you try to figure it out and he’s waiting for a response from you. “I-“ You try and think of something to say but struggle for the right words, “I’m sure you’re a very busy man, whatever it is, I’d hate to take more of your time than necessary.” You say trying to sound nice and not like you're trying to reject him, even though you are. Your words aren’t very confident and of course he picks it up immediately.

Aizen laughs lightly and you already know he’s going to dismiss what you’ve said before he even opens his mouth. “I always have time for my beautiful wife.” He tells you as his other hand does what his other hand had just done, down your leg then back up, bunching the fabric slightly above your knees. “Do you remember our wedding night?” He asks as his eyes meet your own.

You nod to him but he doesn’t continue, an obvious sign that he wants you to say it. Of course you remember it, how could you forget? You’ll never forget how he’d threatened you, how he’d toyed with you and how he’d laid with you for the first time, how rough he was and how you’d cried the whole time and begged him to stop. It wasn’t something you wanted to think about but you answer regardless, “Yes.” You tell him shortly. You hate thinking about that night almost as much as you hate thinking about the night he’d made you beg for him.

You watch his hands run over the now exposed skin of your leg slowly as he talks, you know what he’s getting at even if you don’t have all the details of what he’s talking about. You know he’ll drag you back to your room soon to do whatever it is he’s alluding too. “Well,” he starts causing you to look back up at him. “I told you that if you were good for me, then I would feast on you.” He finishes giving your thigh a light squeeze. Your eyes widen and you try to recoil at his words, you’ve never done or thought of anything like that and the idea scares you a bit. He's bitten you hard before and the idea of his mouth that close to such a sensitive area has you terrified, if you didn’t act the exact way that Aizen wants he could really hurt you. You also can’t imagine that its something he would enjoy and you doubt that you would either.

You try to scoot back from him but his grasp on your thighs stops you from going anywhere. You struggle for something to say, your face has heated considerably and you’re embarrassed to be talking about such things so freely. “You don’t-” you start still trying to find the right thing to say, “You don’t have to uphold anything like that for me, especially something that seems…” Aizen cocks his head while listening and his thumb is back to rubbing circles into your thigh. You swallow thickly before continuing, “That seems so, unpleasurable for you.” You finish quietly in embarrassment as you look away feeling awkward.

Aizen laughs with amusement, his hand reaches for your face and pulls it up to look at him. He takes in your flushed face and knit brows before speaking, “Oh sweet girl, I can assure you I would enjoy nothing more than watching you fall apart on my tongue.” He tells you with a smirk, “And I promise you’ll enjoy yourself so much more.” He whispers, drawing closer to your ear. He takes a small step back and pulls you to the edge of the desk, “Let me show you love.”

You start to panic as Aizen starts lowering himself towards the floor. Your hands shoot out and catch his shoulders, you don’t expect him to actually stop but he does and his eyes flick to yours in annoyance. Your mouth goes dry under his gaze but you press on. He can’t take you here, you think, not when Grimmjow or anyone else outside could hear. “Here?” You ask, eyes wide and voice stressed sounding. He nods to you, clearly upset with you for interrupting his task. Your eyes flick to the door and back to Aizen, “But what if someone hears-” You start to raise your concern but Aizen cuts you off.

“It’s not as if Grimmjow hasn’t heard you before,” Aizen says while looking up towards you, your eyes widened as if they’d budge out of your head, “He guards you most days until the later hours of the night and I don’t like you quiet.” Aizen reaches up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “Now love, relax and enjoy.” Aizen's knees hit the ground and he pulls you by the hips until half your backside is almost off the desk, he lifts each of you legs by the calf and pushes your shoes off and discards them behind him without thought.

Aizen trails small kisses up your calf and to your thigh, you flush completely as you look down at what he’s doing in fear. Normally you wouldn’t look at him while he had you but perhaps because you couldn’t see his eyes it was easier. He nips at the skin on the inside of your thigh causing you to gasp and try to close your legs. He catches them quickly and pushes your legs a bit further than they already had been. He bites at your inner thigh a second time but keeps your legs in place with a firm grasp as he does. You again gasp and jerk in his grip causing him to laugh lightly against your skin. “You’re so sensitive.” He observes.

Aizen pushes your dress the rest of the way up your hip and runs his hand down your panties lightly. You tense under his ministrations and can’t stop thinking about Grimmjow outside, you don’t want him to hear you like this and hate the fact that he had already done so in the past. You almost wish that Aizen would have never told you, at least then you could have gone on in ignorance. Aizen gently begins to rub your clit through the fabric of your panties causing your legs to spasm and a quick gasp to leave your mouth. You quickly cut off the sound in embarrassment.

Aizen chuckles lightly and continues teasing you, switching between stimulating your clit and running his hand along your slit and while kissing and biting at the skin on the inside of your legs. Your face flushes and your legs twitch every time he bites at it, your breathing has picked up and you try to keep your noises down but every so often he pulls a gasp from you causing him to smirk against your skin every time it happens. He loves tearing you apart like this and there’s little you can do to stop him.

After a few more minutes of teasing you he deems you ready enough and pulls back, he hooks his fingers into your panties, “Raise your hips.” He demands, his voice has taken on that low husk that it normally has but for some reason this time it makes you shutter. His eyes look up to your own and he smirks as he watches you place your hands on the edge of the desk and push yourself upwards, you don’t want him to strip you further but you know better than to refuse him, he’d still get what he wants in the end and you’d just end up with more pain or humiliation. Aizen's eyes fall back down and he pulls off your panties, he runs his fingers over you before circling your clit again. “Gods, you’re so reactive.” Aizen groans and looks back at you.

You avert your eyes, not wanting to look at his smug face anymore. You’re unsure of what to expect as he draws closer to you. Your heart beats quickly and you hate how anxious and nervous he makes you. You can’t wait for him to be gone and hope that this is the last time he gets to touch you like this. His hand pulls away from you and you stop yourself from whining about the loss of his attention.

You use the break to take a deep breath that becomes a loud gasp as you feel him lick up your slick folds. You jerk hard and you actually manage to rise a few inches before his hands catch you and slam you back down. He repeats the action and you squeeze your eyes shut, it doesn’t hurt and it’s not wholly unpleasant, just strange. Aizen repeats the action a third time but this time flattens his tongue against your clit as he rises. You can’t help but cry out as he does, making him hum against you which sends more pleasant vibrations through your core.

Aizen keeps up what he’s doing for a while, you can’t stop yourself from panting and moaning lightly, as much as you hate it he’s right and it actually feels good to your dismay. His tongue is warm and slick against you, you know that if it were another situation or even if he’d taken you to your room that you’d be moaning loudly and it's work to keep yourself quiet. After a few more passes with his tongue he sucks your clit into his mouth, letting his teeth graze against it lightly. Your eyes shoot open and you moan loudly, you can’t stop the small buck of your hips against him. He groans at your reaction and it sends more vibrations through you that have you pulling your hand up to cover your mouth, you know you’re being loud and you really don’t want to be, especially knowing that Grimmjow’s just outside the door. Aizen reaches his hand up and pulls your own back down, keeping it firmly in his grasp as he starts flicking his tongue against your clit.

You chance a small look down at Aizen which you quickly realize is a mistake, he’s looking up at you, watching every little reaction from between your legs. You shutter and look away and you feel him chuckle against you before starting again. You know you must look a mess, dress pulled up and face flushed, there are small marks forming on your thighs where he’s bit at you. He pulls away from your clit and moves downward, he lets his tongue run along your folds a few times before he pushes it inside you. Your hand slams into the desk behind you as you arch upwards and moan shakily. Both his hands move to your hips to keep you in place as he starts fucking you in earnest on his tongue. You’ve never felt anything like it before and it’s strangely pleasurable as much as you’d prefer it not to be.

Aizen switches between fucking you on his tongue and flicking his tongue against your clit. The knot in your lower abdomen starts building and you know he’s enjoying what a mess he’s making of you, how desperate you are for release and how you can’t stop the bucking of your hips or the whines and cries that leave you. You’re close and he must realize it too because he starts flicking your clit faster and with more pressure, you know he must be staring up at you again but you don’t chance a look down at him again. It takes only a few short seconds before you arch into him and whine while you come.

He doesn’t stop as your orgasm wracks your body and you whine pathetically, it’s all too much and you need him to stop.”Please,” you whine out, “Just wait please!” You beg to unlistening ears. Aizen doesn’t acknowledge you at all and you try to pull away but his hands on your hips tense in a bruising way, keeping you where he wants you. You’re overstimulated and desperate to get away as you pitch forward and place your hands on his head and push. You're not strong enough to push him away but he does pull away and look up at you regardless.

You’re panting hard as your eyes finally meet his and you freeze. If looks could kill you’d be dead at least three times over. His eyes look absolutely venomous and you swallow thickly before opening your mouth to say something, anything to try and soothe over his anger. You don’t get the chance though as he starts talking. “We’re not finished here until I say so, you’ll stay here as long as I want you to. You’ll come as many times as I want you to. You will not interrupt me again, do you understand?” He finishes and you nod immediately, wide eye’d. He squeezes your thigh hard, fingers digging into your flesh in a painful way that has you crying out harshly. “Do you understand?” He asks a second time with a much harsher and angry voice.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the pain, “Y-Yes!” You gasp out and he releases his grip. His hand reaches up and grabs your chin harshly and pulls it down to look at him.

You open your eyes before he can even get the command out which seems to appease him somewhat, “You can push me, you can pull my hair and cry and beg me to stop, do whatever you need to get through it but you will remain here until I am done with you.” He informs you before diving back between your legs. You don’t dare chance him again and all you can do is whine and moan.

You’re an absolute mess as he feasts on you like a man who’s been starved. He’s much more forceful now and uses more pressure to push against you. He’s like an animal feasting and tearing you apart at the seams. It takes no time at all for him to pull a second orgasm from you and still he doesn’t stop. He focuses his attention solely on your clit as his hand rises and he slips a finger inside you. You whine loudly and buck into him and he hums his approval into you. You throw your head back as he starts thrusting his finger inside you in rhythm with his tongue. After a few minutes he deems you fit enough to add a second finger. You’re moaning with every thrust of his hand and flick of his tongue, tears gather on your waterline, not from pain but from pleasure. You both want him to stop and need him to keep going and make you finish again.

You hate him and yourself for what he can do to you in moments like this. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably as he pulls a third orgasm from you. You pitch forward, leaning over him a bit and grab onto his hair, not to pull him away but to ground yourself somewhat, you desperately need something to hold onto. He groans deeply into you and adds a third finger inside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been this overstimulated before. You’re soaked, you can feel your slick all over both your thighs and his face, you desperately want to beg him to stop. Not that you could get words out of your mouth if you tried.

There’s no way that Grimmjow or anyone else that just happened to be passing through the hall wouldn’t be able to hear you. You can’t find it in yourself to care though, in fact you can’t think of much else beyond what’s being done to you. You feel a fourth orgasm start to build and you clench around his fingers and whine. Before you can though he slips his fingers from you and pulls back slightly.

You whine, sounding more pathetic than you think you ever had before and you can’t stop the small buck of your hips that chase after the lost sensation. His hands raise to untangle your hands from his hair gently, clearly trying not to startle you. Aizen rises to his full height, your wrists still in his hands, “I know, sweet girl, I know.” He says soothingly, both his thumbs run circles along your pulse point and you know he can feel your thundering heartbeat against it. You're still panting as he reaches down and places a light kiss on your forehead. “I knew you would enjoy that,” he tells you smugly. You hate when he brags to you but it doesn’t stop him.

He bends over you more, so that his mouth is level with your ear and he nibbles on it lightly before talking, “I also know how close you were just now,” He tells you as he moves closer, pushing you back from the edge just slightly, “But right now I need to feel you.” He rasps into your ear as he takes one of your hands and forces it on the bulge in his pants. You gasp and try to pull your hand away, you’ve never touched him like this, he’s hard and he looks huge compared to your dainty hand. Your eyes shoot to his as he keeps your hand locked in place. “Perhaps when I see you next, I’ll teach you how to return the favor.” He tells you. You know you don’t want that but you keep your mouth shut as his hand reaches to cup your face.

He kisses you deeply, dominating your mouth as he releases your hand. Instantly you pull your hand away from him, making him chuckle deeply against your lips. His free hand moves to release himself from his pants and you know what’s coming next, you know how he’ll take you. He separates from your mouth as he thrusts his cock against you, collecting your slick on his cock to prepare him for entering you. He looks down at you as he teases your clit with the head of his cock and you gasp. You whine pathetically again and he smirks.

He lines his cock up with you and you close your eyes expecting him to enter you roughly, but he doesn’t. Instead he pushes into you slowly, letting inch by inch sink into you gently. The stretch still hurts but not nearly as much as it normally would and he stills completely when his hips meet yours. “You’re always so tight and take me perfectly.” He rasps. He leans over you and kisses along your neck, he pushes your hair back and buries his face in the crock of your neck where he begins sucking a mark into you.

You gasp loudly and arch your back, causing his cock to shift inside you. He groans deeply into your neck and pulls up slightly, “If you keep moving like that I won’t be able to take my time with you sweet girl.” You can’t help the little noise that comes from you at his words causing him to chuckle. Aizen returns to your neck and pulls his hips back a few inches before slowly thrusting back into you. Your hands fly to his shoulders and you grip tightly. Each time he pulls out a bit further before thrusting back inside of you. He releases your neck fully and lets his hands fall to your hips, he picks up his pace but its still nowhere near the punishing pace he normally keeps with you. You’re panting and moaning lightly with every stroke of him inside you. He moves you in time with his thrusts, eventually he thrusts just right against you, hitting that spot inside you that drives you mad.

You pitch forward, head falling on Aizen's shoulder, he keeps his pace steady and angled just right. You’re overstimulated and your walls twitch around him as your release builds back up. Aizen breathes out a small curse and his hips give a small stutter, “Close again, love?” He asks breathlessly against the shell of your ear. You can’t speak, instead you whine pathetically. One of his hands trails from your hip downwards to stimulate your clit again, you cry out as your nails dig deeper into his shoulders. “Fuck love,” he breathes deeply against you, his voice is deep and dripping with arousal. Aizen pulls your face back with the hand not working against you and you look up at him with half lidded eyes as a few tears slip past your waterline.

Aizen breathes out another deep curse, still watching your face, his thrusting loses a bit of rhythm but his fingers pick up speed causing you to clench on him further. “Come for me love, I need to feel you fall apart for me.” He groans deeply. As much as you’d like to deny him of what he wants you can’t. Your eyes squeeze shut as you follow his command, the hand on your clit quickly moves to your hip and moves you against him a few more times before he releases inside you. The hand on your face wipes at the few tears that fell as he stills inside you. You don’t open your eyes right away, you still panting and trying to catch your breath.

Slowly your mind comes back to you and you can’t help but flush. Your throat is raw and dry from how much you’d moaned and whined and you know that you hadn’t kept quiet like you’d wanted, you don’t want to face Grimmjow again especially knowing that he’d heard all of what just transpired. After a moment he finally pulls away from you causing you to gasp lightly, you can’t help but shiver at how empty you suddenly feel without him. When you finally crack your eyes open you see Aizen readjusting his clothing, you move to cover your exposed core and legs, catching his attention and causing him to smile in what would be a kind way if you didn’t know him.

You avert your eyes quickly, you don’t want to look at him, you never hate him more than you do right after he takes you. Especially when he forces you to feel pleasure from it. Your eyes scan the floor looking for your panties but you don’t see them, you do see your shoes, thrown haphazardly against the wall behind his desk. Eventually your eyes fall to the door, you don’t want to see Grimmjow, you're afraid he’ll be angry or disgusted with you. You don’t know why you care but you do and you don’t think you can take it right now. You feel like you could cry but you don’t want Aizen to know how much he could upset you with such simple acts.

Aizen must see your hesitation as well, he gently places your shoes beside you on the desk and leans down to give your forehead a small kiss. “I can have him dismissed, I can take you back to our room myself if you’d prefer.” He offers. You think about it for a few seconds and as much as you dislike him and the idea of going anywhere with him the thought of someone else seeing you like this is far less desirable. You nod your agreement and he leaves you, making his way to the door.

You hear them talking but don’t actually listen to the words being spoken while you slip your shoes back on and rise from the desk. Your legs are a bit wobbly and you have to steady yourself against the desk for a second. You feel absolutely disgusting, your thighs and upper legs are coated in a film of slick, you hyper aware of everything touching you from your own hair to your dress and shoes. You feel hot and sweaty and want to be anywhere else but you just wait awkwardly for him to return. When he does he loops his arm around your waist from behind and pulls you close to his chest, “Are you alright or do you need a second?” He asks softly.

“I’m okay.” You tell him softly, even though you’re not and he knows that but you want to be anywhere else other than in this room pressed against him. He places a small kiss to the side of your head and wordlessly leads you from the office. He holds the door open for you and to your relief no one is outside in the hall. You hadn’t bothered to check yourself over and you're sure you look a mess. The two of you walk in silence and luckily no one crosses your path. Once you make it to your shared room he opens the door for you, polite as ever, you try to beeline for the bathroom to have just a moment to yourself but Aizen catches your wrist and spins you to face him.

You weren’t expecting him to grab you and you let out a surprised squeak sound, “Where do you think you’re going?” He rasps as he draws you closer, “I never said we were done. I’ve got to make up for all the time we’ll lose right?” He asks. He starts moving you back towards the bed and you try to protest but he won’t listen to any of it. Once he has you in bed he strips you and has you over and over again. You quickly lose track of how many times he's made you come, your face is streaked with tears and you can’t get any words out, only pathetic little noises. You’ve never seen him like this, he’s groaning freely in your ear and rutting against you like an animal. He's filled you three more times since you’d made it back to your shared room, so much so that it spilled out around his cock as he continued to thrust inside of you, making a wet stain in the sheets and you’re so exhausted you feel like you might pass out.

The only sound you can hear is his skin slapping against your own, your whiny moans and his groans. Suddenly he sits back, pulling you up along with him. You catch yourself on his shoulders, he's sitting on his knees with you in his lap, just like the time he made you beg you can feel all of him much deeper inside you and you can’t help the whiny cry that leaves you. Aizen lets his eye wander down your sweat soaked body, you covered in his marks, their everywhere, bit marks and hickies are scattered from your neck to your breasts to your thighs. Your hips are bruised in the shape of his hands. You're crying heavily, you’ve been at it for so long that every bit of pleasure is accompanied by pain and you desperately need for it to be over. You’re lightheaded and your throat is completely dry.

Aizen starts rocking into you slowly and you cry out as more tears stream down your face. “This is the last time, I swear it.” He breathes deeply into your ear, “Just let me have you one time tonight.” There’s not much you can do and your head drops to his shoulder as his pace picks up. His hands wrap around your hips, lining up perfectly with his previous marks and he starts bouncing you in time with his thrusts. You all but scream as he hits that spot inside you, he groans and just keeps hitting it over and over. Broken pleas and whines of his name leave you and you can’t even focus on what you're saying or if any of the words make sense. “Think you could come one more time for me sweet girl?” He asks and even though you can’t see his face you can tell from the tone of voice that he’s smirking at you.

You shake your head no, he ignores you like always, humming as if he doesn’t understand to humiliate you further. You swallow thickly and pant a few times before trying to speak. “N-No, please!” You’re begging again but you can’t find it within you to care, you feel like if he makes you release again you might actually black out. “Please, I can't take it.” He groans at your admission and his pace picks up a bit making you dig your nails into his shoulders and scream. “Please!” You beg again but he doesn’t listen.

One of his hands starts to drift from your hip down your body and you know what he’s going to do. “I think you can love,” He explains breathlessly. “In fact, I’ll prove it to you, just be good and take it.” His thumb makes light contact with your clit but you're so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you feel it so much more than you ever had. Immediately you clench on him and his thumb speeds up, he keeps the touch light but it still feels like straight electricity through you. It takes less than a minute, between him thrusting inside you as deep as he was and hitting that spot inside you as well as his thumb on your clit has you spilling all over him. He groans out your name and thrusts inside you as deep as he can one last time before coming inside of you. Aizen stills completely and your left pressed against him, panting, crying and shivering.

You’re sweating but you still manage to feel cold like he’d sapped all your heat from you along with your dignity. Aizen shifts back slightly so that he’s sitting but keeps himself buried inside you. You whine and you desperately want him to pull out of you but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches for the blanket and wraps it around you back, you don’t move, you can’t move but it does warm you a bit and for that you're thankful. He pulls you a bit closer and his hand rubs up and down your spine. As much as you hate him it is a truly comforting gesture, his hand is warm against your skin and he doesn’t say anything as you breathe and collect yourself. It takes a few minutes for you to stop shaking and for your sobs to subside but when they do Aizen finally speaks, “I need to move you, love.” He tells you quietly and sweetly.

You breathe in a shuddering breath as he slowly and carefully lifts you off him. When his cock finally slips from you you gasp, Aizen apologizes softly as he arranges the two of you into bed how he normally does, with your head resting on his chest. Your legs hurt and you need a drink of water but none of that matters to you as your heavy eyelids close. It takes no time at all for you to fall asleep as Aizen runs his hand along your spine under the blankets.

~~~

You sleep throughout the whole night and a good part of the day. You wake a few hours past noon and try to sit up, immediately you gasp in pain, your legs are stiff and hurt badly. It takes you a minute to fully sit up, even though you’ve slept most of the day you still feel drained and tired as you groggily look around your room. Aizen’s gone but you knew he would be, even on a normal day he was gone before you’d wake but now he’d be gone for at least a week. Your eyes eventually fall to the nightstand beside your bed and you notice that your tea has been carefully placed on it.

You’re a bit embarrassed that Grimmjow had entered your room and you hadn’t even heard him or woken up but you try not to think about it for long. Your throat is incredibly dry and you down the lukewarm liquid. It feels far better than it should to finally have something to drink, you sit there for a moment before deciding to bathe for the day. You're still a mess from the previous night and desperately need to feel clean. Your legs protest as you get off the bed and you have to catch yourself on the mattress once before falling but manage to steady yourself.

The hot water of the bath does wonders at making you feel better, you lay there for a long time just letting the heat sink into your sore and tired muscles. You wait until the water starts to chill before hurrying to wash not only your body but your hair as well. By the time you wash the last of the conditioner from your hair you’re shivering as you wrap yourself in your towel. You debate dressing fully but decide against it and instead slip on a nightgown.

It’s late enough in the day that there’s no point in going all the way to the library, you still have the books in your room from when Loly was your guard. Besides that you don’t want to see Grimmjow, you can’t help but feel a bit mad at him and embarrassed about what he’d heard. He hadn’t told you he was leaving and while you know he doesn’t owe information like that to you and while he had always volunteered it thus far didn’t mean he always would. You know that it will be easier to escape Loly than it ever would be Grimmjow but you can’t help but feel upset, the two of you had been nicer to each other lately and had almost a friendly feeling to it.

You can’t stop thinking that maybe the previous night was the last time you’d ever see him. You brush out your wet hair and look at all your marks in the mirror, you’d be happy to rid yourself of the marks and Aizen as a whole. You let your mind wander and you can’t help but think about how Grimmjow would react to you being gone. You wonder if he would ever care all that much, you don’t think he’d miss you and you don’t really know if you’d miss him or not. He confuses you deeply, he’s nice to you one minute and agitated at you the next, he makes lewd comments and seems like he looks down on you but he also goes out of his way for you.

You wonder how he managed to come to work under Aizen, he didn’t seem like he liked him or even respected him. He gave you a knife and told you to kill him without hesitation and has on multiple occasions helped you behind his back, he’s done things that you know could have major consequences without blinking. You wonder if you confuse him as much as he does you.

You don’t think you do, he seems like he’s got you figured out at least, you’re an open book especially considering you’re basically a prisoner here. You finish with your hair and you think just for a second about inviting Grimmjow in like you’d done the night he returned. You quickly decide against it, you don’t want to have anymore weird dreams about him and you don’t want to feel bad about leaving when you do. You go to pick up one of the books but you're stopped by a banging on your door.

It sounds like someone’s kicking it and you whirl around, “Come open the door!” Grimmjow yells from the other side in a demanding tone. You don’t move for a second and you think about ignoring him like you’d done the first few days here but he speaks again, “Come on princess, my fucking hands are full and I can hear you moving around in there!” He yelled loudly followed by more kicking of the door. You sigh and make your way over to the door.

You linger for just a moment and think about if you really want to let him in. You know logically that he’d just let himself in anyways but at least then you could say you’d done everything you could to keep him away. You think for a second and decide that you didn’t want the previous night to be the last time you saw him even if you were embarrassed that he’d more than likely heard you with Aizen. You can’t explain it but you find yourself opening the door with a small hint of relief that you’d see him, even if it was perhaps the last time. You feel a twinge of anger at the fact that he still hadn’t said anything about leaving and your mixed emotions are confusing even to you.

Grimmjow stands in the doorway with two plates of food, he looks down at you and you realize that you're only wearing a thin nightgown, you don’t look away. This is your room after all and he’s the one that demanded entry. You raise a brow at him in question, “Yes?” You ask with a bit more bite to it then you’d meant to have.

Grimmjow holds one of the plates up and raises his own brow, “Brought you dinner, you’ve been asleep all day, figured you’d want company.” He says it like it was common sense. You were a bit surprised, while him bringing your meals wasn’t uncommon, him wanting to stay and eat with you was completely new and different. You don’t know what to say and simply step out of his way, he strolls in and places the plates on the small table between the chairs. You close the door and stare after him. You wonder if he’s going to tell you about leaving and part of you wants to wait for him to bring it up, see if he will, test him in a sense. You don’t know why you're so upset but you are, he was the only other person you saw on a regular basis, you were angry that he’d leave and not tell you. He’d told you so much recently and it felt almost like a betrayal that he didn't say anything. He looks over at you and nods to one of the chairs, “You gonna sit?” He asks.

You don’t wait for him to bring it up, “Are you leaving?” You ask before you can think about it for long. You’re angry, he was talking to you like nothing was wrong, maybe nothing was and you were just crazy but you didn’t care. You wanted him to tell you and you wanted to know why he hadn’t done so already.

His eyes lock with yours and you stay firmly planted across the room from him. He stares at you for a long moment before answering. He sighs deeply, “Your husband tell you?” He asks in irritation. You can’t tell if he’s being condescending or not but either way it pisses you off further.

“Who else is aloud around me?” You answer back in anger. You know your isolation isn’t his fault, you know you're just picking a fight with him for the sake of fighting but you don’t stop. You can’t even if you wanted to.

Grimmjow's eyes narrow as he looks at you, “Yeah, alright? I’m leaving again tomorrow.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment and you wait for him to say more. You want an explanation, for what you’re not entirely sure of. “You mad about it or something princess?” He asks with that cocky grin forming on his face.

You cross your arms in front of you and your eyebrows furrow. “You’re an ass,” you tell him, you go to continue but he starts in with that barking laugh which only angers you further.

You’re about to tell him to leave when he speaks again, “I’m sorry,” he tells you still laughing lightly. Your eyebrows shot up, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him apologize. “I didn’t think you’d care all that much, I’ll tell you next time, I promise.” He says as his gaze settles back on you.

You shift for just a second as you feel your anger disappearing from within you, out of all the outcomes you didn’t expect him to actually apologize to you. Grimmjow motions for you to come sit again and you find yourself following his instruction without hesitation. “For how long?” You ask quieter and nicer than you had been speaking to him, you feel a bit bad for being so angry with him and can’t fully figure out why.

You reasoned to yourself that you wanted to know because of your escape plan and nothing else. He settles back into his chair and picks at his food with his hands and gives a shrug, “I don’t know a few days?” He tells you, it sounds more like a question than an answer. “Trails have pretty much gone cold but your husband’s are just as stubborn as you are.” He says with no real bite and a roll of his eyes.

You pick up your fork and take a small bite of your own food before speaking, “I’m not stubborn.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. You look back at him and he picks up another bite with his hand, you cringe at him a bit. “Can you eat properly?” You ask in irritation.

He looks up at you and cocks his head, “Now you’re just trying to start a fight aren’t ya?” He says with a cocky grin. You might be trying to start a fight but you don’t really care.

Your eyes narrow at him which only makes him grin wider, “I am not, you’re just being uncouth!” You tell him with a small hint of anger.

Grimmjow chuckles a little bit before picking up another bite with his fingers, “Nah, you’re just all pissy with me cause you’ll be lonely while I’m gone.” He says with a mouth full of food. He swallows and continues, “It’s why you got so mad about me leaving and all.”

You fluster under his gaze, you can’t help but feel like he might just be right but you’ll never tell him that. “I will not be.” You argue back.

He huffed a laugh, “Yeah you will, you’ll miss me and mope around your room than when I come back you’ll be back to normal.” He says with a wave of his hand lazily. “Just like last time.” He finishes.

“That’s not what happened.” You continue to argue with him, even if you're not fully convinced of your words yourself.

He simply rolls his eyes, “Sure it’s not princess.” He says with a smirk. He lets the subject drop though. The two of you finish eating and Grimmjow offers to take you to the library to get replacement books. You don’t take him up on the offer, you’re already dressed for bed and while he reassures you that everything will be alright the idea still makes you uncomfortable. He stays for a while and eventually you start asking about different places that he’d been, he outright refuses to answer any questions about his own home or how he and his people had managed to take your land but he does answer your more harmless questions. He stays until you’re eyelids feel heavy, he watches you while you yawn and stretch your arms. You tucked your legs underneath you a while ago and needed to stretch them too but you’re interrupted by Grimmjow before you do. “Go to bed princess,” he tells you as he stands and looks down at you. “I’ll see ya when I get back.” He finishes with a lazy wave as he strolls out of the room, letting the door swing behind him.

You feel a twinge of sadness as you watch him leave. If everything goes the way you want it to you won't be seeing him when he returns. You try to shake the feeling but your mind keeps wandering back to him as you make your way to bed. The two of you weren’t friends but you definitely didn’t hate him, he was the closest thing you had to an ally besides Lista and it was next to impossible to see her. You wonder if he’d try to track you down when you left. He alluded that he would your first night here but that had been it. You bet he would, he was definitely capable and seemed like one of the people Aizen sent out to get things done. You wondered if he’d put actual effort in though, he’d urged you to kill your husband and while this was different it was still a form of defiance.

It’s a reliving feeling to know that Aizen wouldn’t be in to torment you tonight. You fell asleep thinking about him and subsequently dreamed about him again. In your dream Grimmjow has you in his lap and facing him, your arms are wrapped around his neck, your flushed and his eyes are glued to your face. You stare into his azure eyes as his hands fall to your hips and he moves you in time with his thrusts and you try your best to buck your hips in time with him. His pace picks up and your eyes close as you draw closer and closer to release, his hand reaches up and roughly grabs your face and forces you to look at him. You moan obscenely causing him to smirk at you, “Fuck princess,” he groans deeply. “Ya like that?” He chuckles, making you whine out pathetically. You’re a mess and his eyes rack down your body hungrily, you shiver in his hold and he chuckles again, he groans out your name and buries himself deeper inside you than you’d ever felt.

Your eyes snapped open, the sun had just begun to rise and you laid there panting for a moment. You swallow thickly, you’re completely flushed and you know you're wet beneath your nightgown. You’re glad Aizen’s not here to find you like this, you have no doubt he’d take advantage of it again and use it to humiliate you. You rub your hands down your face and go to bathe. You wash yourself and try not to think about your dreams or Grimmjow. It was futile but you do try. You wonder where he’s at and who has gone with him. Grimmjow never really talked about his other companions with you and you wonder if he was among friends or if he even had any.

Loly brings your breakfast quietly and leaves you alone. You eat and spend the rest of the day with your books. Eventually you peek out and ask Loly to have different books brought to you and you send back the old ones. She compiles but does so with a growl and a scowl that would kill you if she could will it so. She really seems to hate you but you don’t really give it all that much thought. Loly brings your dinner, you eat, dress for bed, sleep and repeat. You try to think of ways to escape but keep coming up blank. Your window doesn’t open and the hallway isn’t an option with Loly or Ulquiorra at the door. You stay up late one night and listen for them to try and figure out when they switch to see if there’s a break between them but there’s not. They seem to do so around midnight and you save that information for later thing it might come in handy eventually.

Four days pass in the same fashion and you start to lose hope of escaping before Aizen makes it back, you had no idea how long he would be gone for and that didn’t help your worry that he could show back up at any time and you’d be back to square one. On the fifth day your breakfast had just been delivered when you heard a voice from the hall. You pause and listen fearing that it may be Nnoitra again and you have no idea if Loly would let him in. She seemed to hate you and you wouldn’t put it past her to actually let you get hurt. She might just let him in to be rid of you and your hands get clammy.

Luckily for you the voice on the other sides is a women’s voice. She’s talking to Loly and you slip your shoes for so you can pad quietly over to the door and try to hear what their saying hopefully without being heard. The girls chat together for a while talking about gossip that you don’t care about and your husband and where he’s going, after a while Loly makes an offer to the mystery girl that has your heart pounding in your chest. “Wanna bail for a few hours? As long as I’m back to take the little bitch her dinner and I’m here when Ulquiorra gets here no one would know. It’s not like anyone would be stupid enough to touch her with what happened last time and she doesn’t come out. Thinks she’s above us or something.” The other girl laughs and agrees and after a beat you hear them walk off. You stand still for a moment making sure that they’d truly left before moving.

This is your chance, perhaps your only chance to make an escape. You have a general idea of where to go and no real plan of how to get there but you’d rather die in the wilderness than stay here and be a plaything for Aizen. You take a deep breath and slip your shoes back on. You make your way back over to the door, you hesitate, if you get caught this could get really bad for you. You’ve now seen Aizen kill and you pray that Grimmjow was right that he wouldn’t kill you himself. You feel like your heart is going to burst through your chest and you think for a moment on if you really want this. If it’s really worth the risk, you could die or worse. You don’t know what Aizen would do if he found you but you have to try. You know he’s using your name as a selling point for the other lords and he expects an heir from you. While he hadn’t brought up how strange it was that you were not yet pregnant he would eventually and you wanted to be far away when he did put it together.

You do want this, you can’t stay here and despite the danger you have to try, you take a deep breath and pull open the door. No one’s in the hallway and your head darts back and forth, you look around wide eyed and step into the hall. You quietly pull the door closed behind you trying to minimize any noise. You walk through the hallways as fast as you can while still trying to remain silent. You know you can’t go for the front door, there would do doubt be guards there. You think you should have found a back entrance during your planning phase but it’s too late now. Your anxiety starts flaring as you make your way around a part of the manor that you’d never been to before.

You think briefly about going back, you’re debating with yourself as you come to a small sunroom causing you to stop in your tracks. You’d never seen this part of the manor and it's lovely, the room is lined with beautiful windows and skylights that let in natural light in to nourish the vast amount of potted vine plants that hung around the doors. There’s a large wooden table and match chairs as well as a small reading nook in the room. None of that catches your eye though, what does is the small door at the back of the room.

You swallow thickly and pivot, pace increasing as you make your way to the door. You’re so close to freedom, even if it’s only temporary and you perish on your travels it has to be better than here. You’re almost there, just a few feet left, you lift your hand and place it on the door handle, you can hear your blood raging in your ears and you pull the handle down. The door cracks open and you're assaulted by cold air instantly. You start to pull the door the rest of the way open but the handle is ripped from your hand as the door is slammed back shut, it reverberates loudly against the hinges making you flinch. A hard body presses against your back and your breath catches in your throat as you freeze. You don’t move and whoever’s behind you still rests their hand against the door they’d just slammed shut. From what you can see the arm is well muscled, veins pop out on the flat press hand and forearm, your eyes mist but you refuse to cry for whoever it is. The person behind you leans closer, caging you between themselves and the door further their mouth is right beside your ear you can feel their breathing against your neck. You keep your eye’s forward and try to calm yourself, surely whoever it is will tell your husband and you’ll have hell to pay when he returns.

“Going somewhere princess?” Grimmjow rasps deeply with an almost playful tone. His breath is right against your ear and it's warm and raises goosebumps across your skin. He’s so close that you can feel his mask against your face and your eyes squeeze shut as the hand not holding the door rises to your hip. He keeps his hand on your hip and squeezes lightly as he chuckles darkly into your ear making you shiver.

#bleach fic #bleach x reader #cross posted on ao3 #grimmjow x reader #multi chap fic #aizen x reader #aizen x y/n #aizen smut #aizen sosuke x reader #bleach smut

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