#wish you were here
slowlyburningsuns · a day ago
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tiredoftheseblues · 3 months ago
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Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
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expressionist-hira · 3 months ago
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victorc7 · 4 months ago
I wish you know how much I love you.
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rhosegold · 7 months ago
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miss him 🥲
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henryhas2moms · 4 months ago
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ouat & the princess bride 1/?
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mishkinis · 6 months ago
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shine on you crazy diamond
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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 months ago
(@impishtubist dropped this prompt on my doorstep and i couldn't let it go. AU in which Remus is a leather-clad rebel with causes and Sirius is a soft-spoken, dorky, single dad.
this could probably be an entire fic, but i...apologize for not delivering that. there is a companion art piece to this though that hopefully will also be posted today.
about 5k
Sirius walked quickly between the stacks of the library, messenger bag over his shoulder, knowing exactly where he needed to go, and having exactly 7 minutes to get what he needed. He accounted for the errand down to the second, putting in a cushion of 15 minutes to stop and get a tea before class. His kid's voice in his head telling Sirius to stop and smell the roses every once in a while, Dad.
Today, the rose he was smelling was a strong cup of black tea. No cream, no sugar, just how he liked it. Even though he was certain Harry would also have something to say about the lack of adventure in this routine as well. Would it kill you to try something new? Maybe? Sirius had stopped trying to convince Harry that he tried new things in research every single day; numbers and calculations transforming before his eyes were exciting and different. To Sirius, anyway. Which was exactly why he was in the library in the first place, to look for a new book he could skim through, walking through the aisles confidently, reading the markers on the sides to signify he was almost--
Sirius's head collided with something hard, causing him to stumble a few paces backward, his glasses falling off his face. He thought it might have been a display fixture--Sirius had done that a few times before when he hadn't been paying attention and things were at precisely the wrong height--but the stream of violent swearwords that followed after told him otherwise.
"Shit, mate, you've got the hardest fuckin' head," said the other voice, and Sirius bent down to pick his glasses up off the floor.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking and in a bit of a hurry. Just...sorry." Sirius muttered quickly, despite the throbbing in his head. He hadn't accounted for this.
He hadn't planned for a concussion.
He put his glasses on and stood up, pressing his palm to his forehead as he did so, the stranger with the voice and the swears finally coming into view.
An entire sleeve of tattoos including every single one of his fingers.
Leather pants.
"Oh," he said, amber eyes scanning Sirius slowly. Suddenly Sirius had wished he had listened to Harry when he had told him khakis weren't on trend anymore. The man removed ran a hand over long sandy hair, smoothing some of it back into place, and smiled warmly, "You've still got a hard head but uh," he raised an eyebrow at Sirius, "No need to be sorry. Not at all."
Sirius felt hot, hoping it wasn’t creeping onto his face, hoping he wasn’t about to sweat through the back of his collared shirt. But this stranger had on leather pants and a tight t-shirt and had no business being in a library, in the maths section any more than Sirius had business in the Arts department dicking around with paints. Two disparate things. It made very little logical sense, yet Sirius had a throbbing headache to prove that this was a reality and some man clad in leather with charming freckles and a low ponytail was staring at Sirius with a decidedly stupid and arrogant grin.
“Unless my head is harder than yours and I’ve permanently addled you?”
“Uh…no, no, sorry. I’m actually late. Are you okay?” Sirius asked looking at his watch. He had seven minutes exactly and this had taken up all of them and bled into his tea time. He needed to leave now if he wanted to make it to his lecture hall on time.
“I’ve never been better,” the man responded, tilting his head as he studied Sirius’ face, “In fact, this might have made my entire day. Week, even. Month potentially.”
Sirius cleared his throat, “I think you should get your head checked out…I’m late. Ice, maybe? 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off.” He gave the man a nod, before turning around and walking back down the stacks from where he came. He was not going to be late, and he certainly wasn’t going to be late for this.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked, following Sirius, nearly matching his stride and pace. Long, leather-clad, legs kept up just fine. Sirius pretending wasn’t looking at combat boots, transfixed by the bit of sock poking out over the top that was a soft pink. It wasn’t often Sirius cared about what he dressed in and most days he kept it simple, white shirts, smart tailored trousers, black shoes. His kid called him a dork sometimes but it was really just practical. Except at this particular moment, Sirius was wishing he hadn’t picked out khakis. His black ones at home were much nicer, fit better, Sirius had chosen khakis so he would look approachable to students, and oh, how this had backfired.
“Do we need a doctor?” he asked, looking at Sirius, and Sirius thought he might like to run into another wall. Start the day fresh and forget all about freckles.
“No, I’m fine. Why would you think I am?”
“You gave me medical advice.”
“I gave you basic first-aid.”
“So you’re a nurse?”
“No,” Sirius said, straightening slightly, “I’m late.”
“I’m Remus. Is that why you’re running?”
“I’m not running, I’m--”
“I was going to say--”
“Very fit.”
Sirius tripped over the threshold of the library, stubbing the toe of his black dress shoes on the concrete outside, trying to make sense of the verbal assault. He was definitely sweating now, and he was wearing khakis. He was about to teach his first class with sweat marks on his ass, and body odor, and his approachable first impression notion was slipping away.
“Careful,” Remus said, a tattooed hand reached out to grab Sirius’s forearm to ensure he didn’t fall completely. Two concussions in one day. On the first day. “Is this normal for you? The falling and running into people?”
“No,” Sirius stressed, pushing his glasses up his nose and running fingers through his hair, black curls escaping from the gel he had used that morning that was usually enough to last all day. Apparently not when he was rushing around and sweating and fighting down blushes from strangers, --from a Remus--that wouldn’t relent and wouldn’t simply let him go. “I told you I’m late, and I really need to go. I’m sorry I ran into you--”
“Sure know how to let a bloke down gently, don’t you?” Remus asked, giving Sirius another smile that sent flutters into Sirius’s stomach. He did not account for this at all when he left the house this morning.
Sirius sighed, “I’m a professor. I have a class to teach that I am…barely going to make it for. I am sure you’re very nice, Remus, and I am glad you’re okay but I can’t stay and talk with you. Even if I really want to know why you were in the library.”
“Grabbing a book or two, of course.”
“Of course, right, sorry. That…was silly of me to wonder. Anyone…can read.”
“You think I look illiterate?”
“I think you look out of place, but that’s not the point,” Sirius straightened and extended his hand to Remus, “Please enjoy your classes, pleasure running into you.”
Remus grinned, and met Sirius’s hand, giving it a squeeze, “Hm…you know what they say about big hands, right?”
“Piano players.”
Remus laughed, “What?”
“People say that…if you have big hands you should play piano? I…do. So…no need to wonder.”
“Right, piano playing, exactly what I was thinking,” Remus nodded, biting down on his lip, the tiniest bit of tongue poking out and for the first time, Sirius saw a glinting of silver.
Tongue piercing.
“You can let go now.”
“Pity. Where do you teach?”
“Bartleby Hall,” Sirius said finally pulling himself away from the stranger, and heading towards the lecture hall, “I teach physics in case you were going to ask that next! But really, please get your head looked at, have a nice day--” Sirius didn’t wait for a response, he didn’t wait to see if he would be sucked into another round of 20 questions, or if he would start playing a game of look and find for other piercings on Remus’s body. The tattoos and the tongue piercing were enough surprises for a single day.
It was a long first day of classes. Sirius finished the day in his office, making sure everything was precisely where it should be. Paperclips in a jar, not one left loose on his desk; files were arranged by date; books were marked and his chair was pushed in. He had grabbed his trash bin, intending to put the bag into the larger receptible out front, not wanting anyone to clean up after him, before closing the door to his office.
“Did I miss office hours?”
Sirius dropped his keys.
“I have them again on Wednesday,” Sirius said simply, quietly, as he bent over to pick up his keys, a soft hum coming from the man behind him as he did so. Remus. This Remus was persistent. He was still here. “Did you get your head looked at?”
“Do you have anything else you can drop?”
Sirius nearly dropped his keys again at the question, turning around to look at Remus, tall and covered in leather, hair now out of its ponytail and falling in soft sandy waves over his shoulder. A widow's peak. Slight stubble. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry, did I cross a line?”
“I don’t even know where they are to be perfectly honest with you.”
“Then I’ll say you have a nice arse instead,” Remus shrugged stepping forward, “Professor Black.”
Sirius was used to being the smartest person in every room he walked into. Unfailingly bright and logical. He could see solutions and answers everywhere, his mind looking something like building blocks stacked neatly on top of one another, a game of Tetris where everything could fit together and work if you took the time to figure it out. Sirius had been playing Tetris all day, from the moment he woke up and dropped his kid off at school, to the time he spent calculating how much time he could spend in the library, somehow still managing to make things fit together and align despite the disruption. But Professor Black twisted a bunch of blocks the wrong way, and one by one they all toppled over, Sirius’s mind in complete disarray, his heart thudding in his chest, and the sweat, the blush, the fever.
“I think I’m ill…” muttered Sirius.
“I asked around about you. You’re very popular.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s not what your secretary said,” Remus inclined his head down the hall where the front desk was, “Beloved by all students, very smart, office hours are particularly popular…”
“I teach Physics. Quantum Physics. Hard sciences, hard subjects, of course, my office hours are popular.”
Remus chuckled biting back a smile, “Sure.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Finding you.”
“Oh, come on, you seem smart, I think you know why I wanted to find you.”
Very fit.
Nice. Arse.
Get a hold of yourself.
Sirius cleared his throat and began walking past Remus and out to the front. Remus followed. That shouldn’t have surprised him, but Sirius had things to do. He had things to do this morning when they had collided and now wasn’t any different. Dinner to make, a kid to pick up from school and get started on homework, lesson plans to review, and a cold as the antarctic shower to take after sweating all damn day.
“You walk fast.”
“You’re persistent.”
“I know.”
“And presumptuous.”
“I can be that too.”
Sirius sighed, hating that Remus was able to catch up with him, “I don’t understand why you’re so intent on following and finding me. You waited all day?”
“Now who’s presumptuous? I had class, thank you.”
“You’re a student?!”
“And even more, what, have you never seen a life-long learner, Professor? Late in life student?” asked Remus and Sirius kicked himself mentally for not thinking his comment through. Of course students came in all shapes and sizes.
“Don’t call me, Professor.” Weird way to say "sorry"....
“Well, I don’t have a first name and didn’t want to be rude.”
“Can talk to me about my arse but won’t address me without a title? Interesting."
“I didn’t know talking about your arse was rude. I thought it was a compliment. Still is, still stands.”
“Are you--” Sirius halted in his tracks on the pavement. He could see his car in the distance in the car park, students coming and going for the day. He turned around to face Remus who was wearing a smug grin, a lazy eyebrow raised, arms folded over his chest. “Are you staring at my arse?”
“And if I am?”
Sirius inhaled deeply, “What do you want?”
“Have dinner with me.”
“Dinner. Food. Do you eat?”
“I…yes…I do. But--”
“Tomorrow night?”
“It's Tuesday.”
“That’s not a date night.”
“It’s a date?” Remus gasped, “I’m flattered.”
“You asked me out! Didn’t you?” Didn’t you? Dear fucking god. Didn’t he? Wasn’t dinner a date invitation? Lunch wasn’t, coffee wasn’t necessarily a date, but all the books clearly said that dinner was a date material.
“Could’ve been an apology dinner, you know, for knocking skulls with you this morning.”
“...I am…so sorry. Today has been very weird, I didn’t mean to--”
Remus reached out and put his hand on Sirius’s arm again. Reassurance. “I’m messing with you. I definitely meant date. But I wasn’t aware that Tuesday couldn’t be a date night. Did you read that somewhere?”
“Uhm..no, I…just…”
“So are you free?”
“I…will have to let you know. Check my…planner.”
“Very cute.” Remus said, “Do you have a pen?”
“A pen, for writing, dear.”
Went right up there with Professor Black. Sirius reached into his bag, pulling out a pen and giving it to Remus, not pausing to question his intentions. Remus grabbed Sirius’s hand, opening it up and scrawling something on his palm, eyes only glancing up to catch Sirius’s for the briefest of seconds. Mischievous. Arrogant. Presumptuous.
Oh, you’re gone. This is it.
“Here’s my number. I don’t have a cellphone, but I do have a landline. Give me a call once you check your planner?”
“I…” Sirius took his hand back, staring at the set of numbers, “....Okay.”
“Can I keep the pen?”
“Are you an unprepared student?”
“No, it just means I’ll have to deliver it back, and I’ll have an excuse to come to your office again. One that isn’t rude and isn’t about your arse.”
Sirius was pacing around his room, nervous energy radiating out of every pore in his body, while his fifteen-year-old sat on the bed in his room, grinning from ear to ear at the sight in front of him. He hadn’t invited Harry into his room but hadn’t kicked him out, even though his teenager had nothing but fashion advice to give out, critiquing every aspect of Sirius’s outfit, enough for him to change his clothes three times. There were shirts on the floor, a pair of trousers as well, that Sirius was told to swap out for a pair of nice jeans instead, it’s a date, not a business meeting, Dad, and the entire idea, the prospect of going on a date in the first place, was entirely too stressful and made Sirius want to pull his hair out one by one.
“So how’d you meet this guy?” Harry asked, watching as Sirius ran a comb through his hair, pushing back dark curls away from his face. He needed a hair cut, he had been thinking that for weeks and had put it off, his hair the slightest bit too long. No wonder the hair gel hadn’t kept it in place.
“Just at work,” Sirius told him, “Have you started your homework?”
“In study hall today, almost done. And he gave you his number?”
“Well, when is he picking you up? Do I get to meet him? I think I should.”
“Meet him?”
“Yeah, you know, make sure he brings you home on time. Back by curfew…or not.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow at Harry through the mirror, his kid giving him a cheeky grin, wiggling his shoulders suggestively, “I’ll be home at a reasonable hour, I assure you, Harry.”
“I’m just saying, what if you have a good time? You can stay out. I’m almost sixteen--”
“You just turned fifteen.”
“Semantics, Dad,” Harry shrugged, “I’m saying you could stay out however long. Can’t Uncle Reg come? You can text him and say hey, I’m having a great time on this dinner date and would like to turn it to drinks, watch my brat for me. Oh! I’ll even take the bus tomorrow. in case you want to...you know have a sleepover.”
Sirius laughed softly as he picked up his jar of hair gel on the top of his dresser, putting some between his fingers and rubbing it to warm the product before putting it onto his hair. Taming curls had been a routine for him for the past ten years. Sirius often thought it was unfair that for someone who liked order and reason so well, he had been cursed with curly hair that had a mind of its own in the mornings. “I will be home by 10, I can guarantee that, love.”
“My dates last longer than that…” Harry said making a face, “Maybe you skip the hair gel today?”
“I’m sorry, with all these instructions you’re giving me today, one would think you have an issue with how I look.”
“I just mean, it’s a date,” Harry rolled his eyes, “You haven’t exactly been on one since--”
“I know, Harry,” Sirius said though he stopped his ministrations with his hair. He usually used two layers of gel, he hated when it came out of place. It drove him up a wall and Sirius was quite okay with avoiding spontaneity or unexpected occurrences such as hair troubles and…men in leather.
“It’s not so formal, Dad. That’s all. They’re supposed to be fun. You know what fun is, right? The kind that isn’t…organizing your files or rearranging the silverware or getting a new calculator.”
“Cheeky…” Sirius said, screwing the lid back on and putting the gel on his dresser, right next to his box of jewelry and a photograph of himself and Harry. He took a step back to examine himself in the full-length mirror. Black jeans cuffed at the bottom, his socks were black to match, pale blue sweater that he tucked into his jeans, gold watch on his wrist, hair pushed back away from his face. “Hand me my glasses, would you?”
“Dad, come on, you don’t need them. They’re for reading.”
“How am I going to read the menu?” Sirius asked, walking towards his bedside table to grab his glasses that were placed next to a stack of books, but Harry beat him to it.
“Dad, I love you, but you’re a bit of a dork, and you have nice eyes. Everyone says so.”
“Who says that?”
“I dunno. Mrs. Weasley? Bill? Oh, my English teacher Mr. Hastings. Though, I don’t think I was supposed to know that. There’s also some Mum on the school board who thinks it too…I told her she was barking up the wrong--”
Harry grinned again, “Kidding, I didn’t say anything. Now, I know you’re the adult here and you know way more than me, but given that I’ve been out on more dates than you in the past five years, I think I might have a little bit more experience…”
“You know, Harry, this man and I met when I looked just how I normally do and I still got his phone number so as much teenage experience you have to offer,” Sirius reached over and took his glasses from Harry, putting them on his face, “I can manage this on my own.”
“If you say so,” Harry shrugged, “Can you at least untuck your shirt? It works better.”
“Remind me to cancel your subscription to Teen Vogue.”
Sirius’s next day at work had him feeling entirely different. Arriving home well after 10pm, his brother in the sitting room with an amused expression as Sirius tried to talk his way out of what had actually occurred with I just lost track of the time and not that Sirius had sat across the table from a man who wore leather, even on dates, and talked for hours. A man who had picked Sirius up on a motorcycle, drove carefully and let Sirius hold onto his as tight as he wanted (though Sirius wasn’t holding tighter because he was worried necessarily). At first, it was terrifying, much like the entire scenario.
At first, he was sweating and nervous, hesitantly straddling the bike behind Remus, helmet on his head though he knew it was going to mess up his hair. At first, he barely touched Remus to hold on as they started out of Sirius’s neighborhood, the bike rumbling beneath them, exhaust fumes filling his senses, and cold air biting at his cheeks. But then it felt like flying as they moved down the streets together, nerves disappearing into the night sky with every turn, Sirius daring to hold on a bit tighter. By the time they had got to the restaurant, Remus was reaching for Sirius’s hand as if he had held it a thousand times before, as if it was meant to be held by his.
Sirius let him.
Remus let Sirius pull out his chair, and Remus let Sirius pay after a brief argument.
Sirius took off his helmet and let Remus fix his hair across the table, there’s a piece that’s sticking up, do you mind?
Remus filled the evening easily with stories of other adventures on that motorcycle--how he had traveled the world for years after his mother had passed, finding hidden locations to eat, working on farms for months at a time to get some money before moving on to the next thing. Time spent in strange cities where he didn’t speak the language, seeing the entire world before deciding it was time to go back to school.
School could wait, but I was only going to be young and have all the nerve in the world to travel once.
He collected postcards, from all the places he went to.
I’ll have to show them to you some time.
Sirius did his best and tried to make his life seem half as exciting as Remus’s was. Different sorts of adventures. Instead of traveling, Sirius had chosen to become a parent, deciding that his big house and his well-earned paycheck and reputation deserved to be shared with someone else. Boyfriends came in and out, Harry had been there the entire time. Instead of working odd jobs and experiencing and creating, Sirius got more degrees and research grants and a respectable teaching job at a University. Instead of exploration, Sirius chose simplicity. Monotony. Domesticity. And Sirius loved his life.
He didn’t expect a run in with leather to turn that upside down, Sirius still struggling to collect the Tetris pieces every time Remus opened his mouth and smiled at him. Laughed as his jokes. Asked about physics and actually seemed interested.
They closed the restaurant down and Sirius found himself wanting to stay with his hand entangled in one that was scarred and weathered and told stories that Sirius’s well-manicured ones never could. They took the longest walk.
Slow. Measured. No sense of urgency.
In step.
Smart dress shoes next to black combat boots.
Sirius was dropped off at his front door close to midnight, way past his bedtime, and unprepared for the way his fifteen-year-old would interrogate him in the morning when they drove to school.
I had the nicest time with you.
Remus kissed his cheek, having to stand on his toes to reach the top of Sirius’s cheekbone just under his temple.
Me too.
Sirius had managed to make it through a day of teaching classes without dissolving into giggles and having flashbacks of a night looking into amber eyes and letting himself laugh loudly and unapologetically. To the moments when Remus would innocently drop compliments, You’re quite handsome, and terms of endearment into conversation like they were commas. A pause between words only left space for dear and nothing else. Sirius was on his way to his office when the front secretary stopped him.
“Professor Black, this came for you while you were out.”
“Oh, thank you, it could’ve gone into my mailbox, no need to deliver everything personally, Haddie,” He said, and the young woman smiled a little.
“He…wanted to make sure you got it today and didn’t trust that you would check your mailbox. I may have told him you usually do that on Thursdays.”
“Right you are. Sorry,” Sirius said, taking the paper from the woman's outstretched hand and examining it, a smile spreading slowly onto his face, and his heart speeding up.
In bold bright yellow letters, across the scene of what looked like Barcelona, La Sagrada Familia depicted in an aerial photograph. Sirius flipped it over, biting down on his lip as he read the messy handwriting.
Had to miss your office hours again today, unfortunately. but…I might settle for dinner.
You can pick me up this time, and it can be on an actual date night.
You know where you can reach me. Find me. Call me. Everything.
Sirius’s breathing hitched softly, walking away from the front desk so no one was around to witness the faint pink hitting the tops of his cheeks.
An address.
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lookmomicantfly · 11 months ago
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sophi-aubrey · a year ago
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L’huitre forme une perle à partir d’un grain de sable qui la dérange…
Ainsi, d’un problème dans sa vie, elle fait une oeuvre d’art.
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pulchritxde · 3 months ago
Why don't you like me?
Pairings: FWB!Gojo Satoru x FWB!Reader (but can be read by all)
Case: (not canon versed, regular au!) In which Gojo is always flirting with you and wonders why you don't think of him the same way he thinks of you...
Tags: mentions of sex, profane speech, Gojo
Gojo Satoru
Your best friend turned best friend with benefits since almost two years ago and somehow has been steady. Most of the friends with benefits relationships you've seen have either ended in horror or love, few ending naturally and peacefully.
So, you wondered what it would be for the both of you; would Gojo be sad or angry or some other emotion that you didn't collect feelings for him in the same way he was harvesting feelings for you, or, would he be fine with that fact? Would he be able to let you go freely or would he want to keep you around if you decided to do something you've been wanting to do for all of two months now?
Albeit, Gojo was an amazing man and even more amazing in bed, but he wasn't someone you could see yourself being with for very long, hell, you didn't even expect the benefits to last longer than a few months let alone over a year.
How was it that he grew feelings for you but you didn't harbor any love for him outside of the platonic kind?
Gojo had been acting differently with you than he normally did after about four months into the whole entanglement. You didn't get the deal at first, but eventually— upon your friend's observations of your and Gojo's 'friendship'— you realized he caught feelings and was trying to woo you into a more intimate relationship, perhaps he thought you were more than breedable like he said during one of your sessions...
It was on a cool summer evening when you decided to cook for the both of you after what you thought would be your last time in each other's embrace that you were going to tell him your plans of ending things with him.
Perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea...
You were nibbling on your food, slowly chewing small bits of the meal when Gojo noticed your seemingly nervous antics, wondering loudly to you about it.
"You feeling okay?"
He tilted his head as his tongue met the food you cooked, letting it loll in his mouth for a moment before biting down, blinking once at you. "Just a little tired. I wanted to talk to you about something..."
"I'm all ears. I wanted to talk to you about something as well, if course, but ladies first."
You put your utensils down and looked Gojo in the eye, wondering how calm you'd be able to remain during this revelation. "I think we should stop being friends with benefits."
He smiled halfway, choosing to be naïve about your words, "Me too."
You blinked at him and released the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. "What?"
"I think we should be... an item, as the kids say."
The comment went right in one ear and out the other, Gojo's ignorance of your prior statement almost made you burst into an raging inferno. "No, Satoru, I don't think we should be an item."
He dropped his cute smirk at you and blinked, staring at you for a moment before speaking up again, "And why is that? Has my lovely pin-up doll found someone else?"
You groaned at the name and squinted at him, "It doesn't matter. I just think this has gone on for too long and I can't keep doing this to you. It's not fair."
"Aw, always thinking of my feelings... That's just one of the many things I love about you."
You sighed, defeated already and realizing the only thing that would get your words through to him was...
"You told him about your budding relationship with his best friend?! Are you crazy?"
You but your lip and tapped nervously on the edge of the cup of coffee in front of you, eyeing the people on the other side of the large glass window in the cafe. Your friend was gaping at you, wondering how you could be so calm after having done that to Gojo. "I mean... I guess I understand it. I just... I wouldn't have told him it was with his best friend... What did he say to that?"
You grimaced slightly recalling the end of the night. "He didn't. He just chuckled real low and fucked me again and left."
You chose to leave out the part where he left hickies all over your body in the shape of his initials. You wondered when he did it and when he found the time to, but it was his way of saying you were his without saying it.
"Damn... Did he say anything else before he left?"
"Just that I was his and he laughed again and left."
Your friend was trying so hard to be there for you but she couldn't wrap her brain around the events, too fried from her own issues to try, but she was doing so well that you felt bad pulling her away from her own relationship to talk about your more complicated situation. "You're never getting away from him... You know that, right? Once Gojo says he loves you... there's no going back."
You nodded at the revelation and sighed, sipping your drink before eyeing your friends stressed out glare. "Don't look at me like that."
"I'm sorry. I feel bad, I really do, for both of you... But do you think you're just not feeling anything for Gojo because you haven't actually identified-"
"No. There's nothing there. I love him as a friend and nothing more and it was a mistake to have sex with him in the first place even if we both were drunk. If I'd known he'd fall in love then I wouldn't have let it continue."
Your friend gave you an understandingly sad pout, realizing you did care for him a great deal but just couldn't be with him because you couldn't lead him on anymore and he was in too deep now.
"Maybe he'll let go eventually... The chances of that are probably definitely zero, but there's hope... Maybe."
"That's making me feel a lot better," you replied sarcastically and your friend laughed a little at your reaction, shaking her head as you sipped your drink again. "I'm sorry, (Nickname), I really wish I could help more. I don't even know what I'd do in that situation."
"Its not a big deal. I really just needed to get it out. Thank you for being here."
The two of you spent the rest of that afternoon trying to help each other solve your problems while Gojo was discussing you with his best friend, who seemed to love you the same way Satoru did.
Geto Suguru
A beautiful man you'd met at the super market, who offered to buy your groceries for you when he saw you left your wallet somewhere, later finding out you'd left it at your house when he offered to drive you there. You'd met him a few times before but you weren't close, Gojo seemed to like keeping you to himself even if it was just friendly meetings or events popping up on the schedule. And he wondered why Gojo would keep you all to himself before finding out all of the reasons why two months into getting to know you better.
He quickly forgot that you were the apple of his best friends eye when he got to know more of you in two months than any other person and the same could be said for you. The both of you wanted to be together and there was nothing standing in your way except him.
It was the way you listened attentively to everything he say, remembered what he liked and didn't like as if it was the easiest thing for you, the way you'd make him laugh without even trying, the way you'd get him talking more than he normally did, the way you completely changed him without even lifting s finger. He was completely enamored by your presence alone and he wanted more from you than what he was getting if it was even possible.
Perhaps a ring could do the trick...
"When did you start seeing her?"
"Two months ago."
"And you love her?"
Geto could understand very well what his friend was getting at and he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing any further details about your relationship with him but he would spare one thing...
"I do."
Gojo sat next to him on a park bench, mindlessly watching people passing by as he listened to that sentence fly into the air in a way he wasn't too fond of.
"I want you to stop seeing her."
"Now, why would I do that?"
Gojo smirked to himself halfway, "Because you couldn't possibly love (Nickname) the way I do. She was made for me, of course~"
Geto was silent, letting his friend get the last word in and he sighed, getting up and walking away. "Ah, leaving so soon?"
He silently cursed the man following behind him quickly. "I will not talk about this any further with you, Satoru."
"Ehh, why not? I liked talking about her with you."
Geto had better things to do and he'd be damned if the man here took away from the time he wanted to spend with you. "I don't. Goodbye, Gojo Satoru."
And he allowed Geto to walk away, wondering to himself what Geto had that he didn't, but then he remembered, nothing. No one was on Gojo's level. His God-complex was thicker than his skull and bigger than his ego.
He'd have you to himself again soon no matter what.
There was a small get together at Utahime's estate and you and Geto were surely going to attend the event because you both hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. She always was a great host and would occasionally get imported goods to feed her guests.
You adorned yourself in the cutest skirt and cropped, long sleeve tee with matching scarpin-style heels and rings with a matching jewel to your necklace that was gifted to you by Geto. And he couldn't be more in love.
Geto was matching colors with you, a brown button up with white dress pants and black snakeskin shoes. He too wore the chain you'd gifted him in exchange for his gift to you. And you couldn't be more in love.
When you arrived at Utahime's place, your pair had recognized the sleek, black car parked outside and silently cursed the appearance of the man getting out of his car at the same time as the both of you. He smiled widely at you only, completely ignoring that his friend was with you.
He walked quickly behind you both, mostly to watch that ass sway side to side, a teasing reminder if what he'd be missing out on because of his best friend. And he couldn't help himself but he was going to be mentioning the two of you as much as he could to play with the both of you.
"Ah, don't you miss how I would hold onto your back pocket when we'd walk up the steps together, (Nickname)?"
You sighed and shook your head, "I don't, Gojo."
"Aw, back to the last name basis, huh?"
You ignored the comment as Utahime's housemaid opened the door for you all to step inside quickly removing your shoes and following the maid into Utahime's living room.
As the night went on, being entertained by Utahime and spending time with your other colleagues, you were actually having a great time excluding the teasing Gojo would do at every chance he received. And eventually, you landed in the kitchen with Utahime to help her and her housemaid with some food preparation, unfortunately being followed by the teasing man and his best friend. Gojo seated himself at the island, directly in front of you and almost pouted at the lack of attention you showed him.
A string of flirts came your way frequently as he watched you move around the kitchen, always being met with a sharp hiss or a burning glare from Geto.
When he noticed the rings on your hands, he was almost taken aback at the flashy one that was too close to your ring finger, a silent promise of what was to come from Geto in what he'd planned for the next week.
"I love a woman who wears rings..."
He noticed you stopped moving for a moment before quickly taking off your rings, giving them to Geto to hold onto, excusing it as your need to get your hands dirty for the preparation of the food.
"Aw, don't be like that, (Nickname)-"
You snapped your head to Gojo, sending him a look you'd never given to him before and he was silenced immediately, surprising your other friends at the ability to silence the man without much effort. He'd lick the shit off a toilet if you told him to with that look, the eyes of a Goddess baring down on him.
"Let me talk to you outside for a moment."
You forced Gojo out of his chair and yanked him aggressively behind you as you pulled him to the hall, shoving him against the wall briskly. "What the hell do you want, Gojo?" The bitterness in your tone almost took him away, showing him where he stood with you now and it almost made him drop his act, but he was too proud and now too excited at the sudden change of emotions in your once smiling demeanor.
"You, of course-"
"You don't. You're only making a fool of yourself now and it's embarrassing, Gojo. Stop while you're ahead. I'm tired of it. We won't be together in the way you'd hoped and I'm sorry you fell for someone who could never reciprocate. It's over and I need you to drop it."
Your eyes searched his for any sign of understanding and he couldn't help the building urge to take you right there, fuck that attitude out of you how he would do before Geto came along but the both of you knew it was before Geto came along that you'd been losing interest in the dynamic of the friendship. He couldn't take you right there, so he settled for a passionate and fiery kiss that he could feel you didn't return and didn't seem to enjoy.
"What's going on?"
You pushed Gojo away from you almost as soon as he came onto you and you looked at the owner of the new voice, eyeing the man as he looked between the two of you. "Just giving your girlfriend something she missed."
You snapped your head at Gojo and finally had more than enough from him and socked him in the nose, the first time you'd ever hit Gojo for real.
You groaned in pain and annoyance as you held your first, quickly turning on your heel and walking to the front entrance, grabbing your shoes and dashing out the door, cursing the night and everyone in it.
Why, Gojo, why did you have to fall in love... with me?
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tinywizardkingdom · 4 months ago
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tiredoftheseblues · 3 months ago
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expressionist-hira · 4 months ago
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byyoursword · 3 months ago
i bought an original press of pink floyd’s “wish you were here” in december, and the whole album plays perfectly EXCEPT for “wish you were here” itself. the previous owner/s played it to the point of scratching up and warping the track, but i love it and i like to think about the person who played this song over and over so here it is !
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leextacy · a month ago
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missbehavingv2 · a month ago
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Thirsty Thursday
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Let me brighten your day.
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foreverfitnesspositivity · 6 months ago
My mom 💕💕💕💕
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spaceageslacker · 5 months ago
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Here’s a quick sketch I made for De’s 102nd birthday. Happy birthday, De! I never met you, but you seem like a cool guy. Thanks for making my days infinitely better with your acting and just your whole existence.
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beforevenice · 5 months ago
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We're just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl, Year after year, Running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.
// Roger Waters
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