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shotomyheart · 2 years

Text

learning a new language (then forgetting)

oikawa tooru x gn reader

synopsis: no matter how much you love each other, your love languages don’t match

genre: angst <\3

wc: 619

warnings: no happy ending, personality specifics of reader, dumb amount of italics, no wrong party: just not a good match :(

note: this is... much more personal than it should be

When it’s good, it’s good.

You fell for his independence. The way he traveled to a new country, new culture, new life, all for his dreams, made him irresistible.

The way he first greets you, his smile bright, his eyes; unclear. He was tempting. A tempting mystery. The new boy in town. Oikawa Tooru.

Your relationship fell into each other’s arms. A perfect match of laughs, intimacy, and understanding. He held you tight. Too tight, but maybe you just need to adjust.

He showers you in jewels. Crystals shine bright against the spotlight, is what he had said. You don’t want to be in the spotlight. But sacrifices are necessary.

He takes care of you. You never have to worry about finances, what to wear, or needing anything. It’s refreshing, to an extent. It’s always good to have a backup, someone who’s willing to help when you struggle. You’re not struggling, however. He paid your rent, anyway. As well as most of your formal wear. And your groceries. He hasn’t moved in yet.

The quiet moments are your favorite. When the sun streams through the window, dancing across your skin to his. Maybe you’re talking, maybe you’re not, either way is pleasant. He kisses you lightly wherever you are nearest: top of your head, stretch, your ear, glance, your forehead, fall, your lips. He holds you tighter.

He drowns you in compliments, to anyone and everyone. Despite your wide eyes and tight grip on his hand, he continues to boast about you. It’s sweet, really. He loves you so much, he just wants the world to know it. You don’t care about what other’s know about. As long as he knows you love him, that’s all that matters.

You love him. He loves you. That should be enough.

——

“Are you embarrassed of me, or something?” His voice is straining against a yell, but he knows you hate that, he’s trying.

“Of course not. I just don’t think strangers need to know about our relationship.” You want this to work. You’re trying.

“I just want to show you off,” Tooru rubs his forehead, a headache is coming, you know. You know him so well. Which is why this conversation is pointless, because you already know what he’s going to say.

“I’m a person, Tooru, not a medal.”

——

“Please!” He’s crying. Of course he’s crying. And of course he is one of the few people you can’t stand to see crying. You match his eyes, much to his surprise.

“You’re not understanding me,” your voice is void of emotion, despite the salty tears dropping on your lips.

He can see your emotion, but he never hears it.

“Then make me understand,” he’s shaking as he holds your hands close to his heart. You don’t look.

“I just want you,” you push your head into his chest. Diving into his familiar comfort.

“You have me, I’d give you the world, if you’d just let me,” Tooru whispers in your ear, a chill travels through your body.

You take a deep breath, then separate from him. “If I wanted the world, I could take it,” your heartbeat blocks your thoughts, you can only say the truth. “I want to be with you,” your eyes meet, “I really, really do.” You take a deep breath, “I want to be with you, not be a part of you.”

He still doesn’t understand. It’s obvious, the way his mouth is slightly agape, eyes searching for hints across your face. He doesn’t understand.

You sigh.

“You want something, I can’t give.”

——

You fell for his independence. When your name began attaching to his, you lost yourself. You love him. But you respect yourself more.

You feel as heartless as he sees you.

#daydreaming.nightmares #daydreaming.longer #oikawa x reader #oikawa x gn reader #toru oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa #hq oikawa #haikyuu #haikyuu oikawa #angst #hq angst #oikawa x you #hq #tooru x reader #oikawa x y/n #drabble #oikawa drabble #oikawa fanfiction #oikawa imagine

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shotomyheart · 2 years

Text

sleepless dreams: a poetic story

decapitalization and improper punctuation intended bc I’m lazy <3

kuroo x gn reader

synopsis: little moments of falling in and out of love

genre: fluff with angst ending

warnings: some specifics of reader (shorter, doesn’t like tea, likes hot chocolate, likes hp, idk its based on 16 yr old me lol), harry potter spoilers about fred, some hate on family guy, reader can blush, heavy angst

note: another piece i wrote (actually these are text messages i sent to my friend) when i was 16 but i replaced my crush at the time with kuroo.

honestly i don’t like this v much so i’ll probs delete it, but happy birthday kuroo!!

wc: 1.2k

him being so much taller than you, he would always want to cuddle

and he would hate your movie choices,

but you’re too stubborn to let him watch his nerd shows

but occasionally you would, because you want him to know you care about him

and you would throw popcorn at each other

and during horror movies you would hide in his chest and he would do the whole “i will protect you” thing but in reality all you wanted was to be closer to him

and he would rub circles on your hip when you’re leaning on him

and he is more of the kiss-my-hair type because of how short you are compared to him

and you would fiddle with his hands; comparing your hands to his

and you would cry watching harry potter because fred dies

and at first he will be jealous because you keep saying how much you love him

but then he realizes he’s being ridiculous because not only is he a fictional character but he’s a dead fictional character so he would bring you to his lap and would stroke your back

kissing your hair because he’s that type

and eventually he will know all the lines from harry potter because you’ve been together so often and it’s your number one and ya’ll would take turns saying lines

but then his romantic side would kick in and during ron and hermione cute moments happen he would turn you to face him and say everything ron is saying but says your name instead of hermione

and you would blush

and he would tell you not to hide your blush

but you would continue to and he would tackle you and tickle you but even if you’re not ticklish you laugh anyways because you enjoy those moments

and the first time you have a date at his house he gives you hot chocolate because he knows already it’s your favorite

but he would spill it over your shirt and pants

because he’s so nervous

and you scream from the hot liquid but you can't take off your shirt without it being weird so you start hitting his shoulder and demand him to give you his clothes

and he would grab a shirt and sweatpants

and you would wear it for your night in,

and he would comment how he likes it when you wear his clothes,

and you say, “don't get used to it”

but he just laughs and gives you a brand new cup

and he learns you like it with milk rather than water.

and every night you’d go out to his house just to hang he would give you hot chocolate but with milk

and he would always kiss your nose when you stand on your tippie toes,

because you’re trying to reach the cupboard

but he takes the advantage of your position and kisses your nose

and then gives you the mug and your nose crinkles as if you don't like the kisses but then you blush and can't help smiling and he knows you like it

and then you would go back to both of yours couch which you would always call ‘our couch’

because you two didn't often go out you would just cuddle on that grey couch

so whenever you are talking to friends or whatever you slip with the words ‘our couch’

and your friends will just laugh and point it out while you just pretend it didn't happen

but after awhile you would agree it was ‘our couch’

and you would go to ‘our couch’ and after your first date of him spilling your drink he would have the clothes in hand so you could just change in the bathroom and come back to cuddle in his clothes disregarded the previous thought that he shouldn't get used to it

but you then would realize it was you who shouldn't have gotten used to it

because after 7 months of dating, he gets a little agitated when before he thought you were cute

he would say if you didn't like his nose kisses just say so

and he would say how he wants to watch more his shows

and noticing the change you realize he should get the picks for a few days and so you let him

but after awhile it doesn't even seem you’re there next to him when he watches his shows

he just zones out casually snorting when a funny part comes up

you wouldn't cuddle anymore

you would try to

but he would remove your hand from his leg without leaving his eyes from the tv

and you would think he’s just having some bad days lately so you would give him some time

coming less because it hurt being invisible to someone you clung to only weeks before

and when you did come he would pretend you weren’t more than strangers

he would make himself tea

which is your least favorite

and he wouldn't make you some saying you could make it yourself

so you say okay and go to the kitchen but there was no hot chocolate only tea

and you’re a bit upset because he knows how much you hate tea

he used to laugh and call you cute when your nose crinkles thinking about tea

but now that’s all he drinks

so you go back to his couch

it was his

it wasn't yours anymore

it didn't seem right to claim a couch when it seemed you couldn't claim the boy you thought you were in love with

you two had said your feelings in the 5th month saying how much you loved each other

you kept your promise that you would never leave him

but without realizing it he was leaving you in the same room as you sat with him watching some shitty cartoon he loves like family guy

sometimes you would say a witty comment because that was your thing, being witty

but he won't hear and then a few seconds later he would daze over to your area of the end of his couch cuddled with a blanket and ask what you said

and you would say under your breath with defeat that it was nothing important

and instead of tackling you,

and tickling you, to interrogate you

he would shrug and sip his cuppa and you would watch how his beard has gotten a little out of hand

and his eyes look more tired

you thought it was his job

or maybe stress of college, or anything really; anything but him being tired of you

but when you see him lick his lips from the cuppa of the thing you hate most, watching a show you find no interest in, as he sits on his couch on the other end of you,

you realize he's not tired; he's exhausted

and you were his coffee keeping him up

so you say goodbye without a kiss, not that you were expecting it

and would go home trying not to cry from your revelation

and you would call him up and say your final goodbyes because you’re too much of a coward to tell him in person

and when he asked “why”

you say “because you need sleep.”

#daydreaming.nightmares #daydreaming.longer #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #happy birthday kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu longfic #hq #haikyuu #hq poetry #kuroo breakup #haikyuu angst #haikyuu kuroo #hq angst

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shotomyheart · 3 years

Text

let me love you

gojo x fem reader

genre: hurt/comfort

synopsis: gojo knows he can be better than him

warnings: your boyfriend is neglectful, gojo calls you sweetheart

wc: 1105

rq: yes

note: my first request! thanks so much! this is based on the song let me love you (mario cover)

Gojo pads his way through the familiar carpeted hallways up to your apartment. He whistles a random tune as his eyes wander to each door number, looking for yours. He only stops when he feels someone bump into his shoulder roughly. The man fumbles and gives Gojo a quick apology.

“Hey,” Gojo stops the man with his words and tilts his head in thought. It clicks, he snaps with a wide smile, fake, but no one could tell. “You’re her boyfriend right?” He references you by jabbing his thumb towards your door just a little farther down the hall.

The man quickly glances at his watch but politely smiles, “Yes, now excuse me,” he turns to leave, but Gojo stops him again.

“Where ya off to?” Gojo stuffs his hands in his pocket with a smirk. Behind his black cloth, his eyes narrow in spite.

Your boyfriend sighs and gestures to the wine bottle cradled in his arm, “Work party, can’t be late, see you around!” He scurries off before Gojo can mention they hadn’t even exchanged names.

His smirk turns into a sneer and scoffs before turning back around to go to your door. He knocks twice before you immediately open the door with a wide smile. Upon seeing Gojo, however, the light in your eyes dims, but you try your best to hide it before stepping away from the door to let him in.

“Hello, Gojo,” you close the door behind him and turn to your small kitchen, “Can I offer you anything? Water? Wine- oh wait, actually, I don’t have any wine,” your shoulders sag in annoyance, but you face him with an apologetic face.

“I told you to call me Satoru,” Gojo teases by ruffing your hair up and moving toward the couch before you could complain. “A glass of water would be perfect,” he licks his lips and plops down on the couch.

You bring two glasses of water and places them on the coffee table. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he guves you a lopsided grin and takes a sip. You roll your eyes at his comment, but you don’t take it to heart. When he finishes, he stretches his long arms out over the couch, completely relaxed.

“Shouldn’t we talk about the mission now?” You prompt.

As a fairly new sorcerer, you were to have a mentor and advisor to help show you the ropes. Gojo doesn’t usually take this role, but he said he thought your fighting style was unique and wanted to stick by you.

Gojo pouts, “You’re no fun, don’t-cha wanna ask how I am?”

You sigh, but oblige, “How’re you, Gojo?”

He tsks, “Satoru. But I am doing real good these days,” he scoots closer to you, “feel like I’m on top of the world!” He taps his knee nonchalantly.

“Good for you, now the mission?” You point to the folders of paperwork he has to review.

He tuts, “Now, now, I didn’t get to ask how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, now-“

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t lie to me,” he pulls down the black cloth down to reveal one eye, “I can see all things, ya know.” He winks before fixing his mask and sticks his elbow into the back cushion and drops his head in his hand.

“I’ll talk about it after the mission.” You ignore his more whining as you begin talking through your last task.

The mission was quick so you didn’t have much to review causing your meeting to cut short, but Gojo doesn’t bother leaving. Instead, he makes himself more comfortable on your couch waiting for you to speak first.

“Is there something else you wanted to talk about?” You quirk your head to the side.

Gojo hums, “Yes, actually,” he picks up his glass of water again and turns to face you, “Why’re you still with him?” He takes a long sip.

Gojo and you aren’t close friends, but you’re definitely not strangers; Gojo is too nosy for that. You know exactly who he is talking about because he’s heard you lightly complain about your neglectful boyfriend. You loved him, this is just a rough patch, you keep telling yourself.

You pick at the thread at the end of your couch, “I love him,” you say simply.

“Does he love you?” Gojo pries with another hum.

You whip your head towards him again, “Of course he does!” You sound more desperate than confident, Gojo notes.

“That’s not love,” Gojo scoffs. His fingers twitch to touch your exposed arm, to give you some sort of comfort, despite his harsh words. “Love is not so sad and lonely.” His nose twitches.

“I’m not sad nor lonely,” you bite back standing up before he reaches out and grabs your wrist, spinning you around to face him.

“If you were mine, I’d show you off at every work party- hell, everywhere I go! What was his excuse this time?”

You blink at his words, ears warming, before focusing on his question. You don’t move out of his grip, but you glance away, too bashful to answer to his face, “He, uh, has a new assistant and wants to help her out by introducing her to his boss.”

Gojo barks out a mean laugh, then tugs on your arm to sit back down. You’re closer to him now, your knees brush against each other. “Why do you stay with him?” He repeats, his voice unwavering and stern. Why do you stay with him when you could stay with me?

“I-,” tears well up in your eyes. You remember how you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in three days, and when you did tonight, he rushed out the door with your bottle of wine, leaving you with only a kiss on the cheek. “I,” you take a deep breath to collect yourself, “I don’t think I’m strong enough to be alone.” You fiddle with your hands before you feel Gojo place his on top to settle your worries.

“You’re not alone.” You look up to see Gojo’s blindfold is off and his beautiful round eyes are staring straight at you. “You’re not alone,” he repeats with more conviction, “and you never will be.”

You want to say you are; alone, that is. But you can’t. Not when Gojo has his thumb rubbing on top of your hands in a soothing manner. His eyes never leaves you because he would never leave you. He has barely done anything, but you feel more wanted than you’ve ever felt with your boyfriend.

You can’t jump into a new relationship- especially not when you haven’t cut off your current one- but you think, maybe, he’ll be worth the wait.

#daydreaming.longer #daydreaming.comfort #dreams.are.made #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo fic #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #hurt/comfort #comfort #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x female reader

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shotomyheart · 3 years

Text

angel (where are your wings?)

atsumu x fem!figure skater reader

synopsis: he finds home somewhere new

RQ: yes

wc: 821

note: scout has srsly influenced my titles jfc. this is a bit unrealistic bc of security reasons but just go with it

Atsumu finds comfort in familiar sounds. The sound of sneakers pivoting against the gym floor. The sound of skin hitting a volleyball. The sound of cheering from a crowd. It gives him a feeling of home.

He’s far from home now. No sounds of his teammates bickering. No sounds of lockers slamming. No sounds at all, in fact.

Atsumu stands in a wide, empty hallway. He’s lost. He’s known this for awhile, but only now does he admit it to himself. He’s supposed to be in a gym; the gym he will be performing at in a weeks time. The gym his teammates had given explicit directions to. But the venue is so big and now he’s so lost.

He wanders farther down this endless hallway. The temperature drops just enough to make him tug down the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

It’s almost midnight now, he should just turn around and find an exit. Just as he was about to, he hears a strange sound. One that is unfamiliar to him. Something he couldn’t place. His curiosity has caused him trouble plenty of times in the past, but this doesn’t stop him from indulging himself anyway.

He stops at a large metal door. He peaks through the glass window it provides and sees movement. The glass is a bit too foggy to make out any details, but he could tell the person was moving fast. His eyes strain to keep up with the figure. The cold glass against his cupped fingers prevents him from focusing.

The sound is heard again. Some sort of scraping. Atsumu bites his bottom lip in contemplation. Finally, he tugs on the heavy door with gusto. A sharp blow of cold air hits him all at once. The door slams against the wall with a loud bang, alerting the figure to stop and look up. He uses his cool hands on his rising blush from causing such commotion, but now he is able to see clearly what the figure was doing; ice skating. The scraping sound was the single pair of skates gliding across the white ice, shaving it on each twirl and sharp turn.

The figure, a young woman, does none of this now. Only stares up at him where he stands at the top of the arena.

His blush grows, “Oh, I-“

“I’m so sorry! I know I’m not supposed to be here. I was just dropping off my skates, but when I saw no one here I thought-“

As she rambles, Atsumu steps down each stair until he reaches the rink. Only a small wall of glass stands between them.

She stops talking once she views him properly. “Oh. You’re not security.” She drops her fiddling hands. “What are you doing here?”

Atsumu chokes down a laugh at her sudden attitude change. “Lookin’ fer the gym,” he scratches his neck. She’s pretty.

She quirks an eyebrow, “Well this isn’t it.”

Atsumu taps his chin and glances from side to side of the large arena, “Hm, I s’pose not.”

She tries to hold back her smile, but she fails when Atsumu catches her lips twitching upward.

Atsumu gently leans against the glass, “So, dreamer or contestant?”

This time she does smile, amused by the stranger, “Both,” her voice is light and playful. It makes his heart skip a beat. “Passing by or stalker?”

Atsumu gasps dramatically, a hand on his heart as if he’s wounded, “a lost contestant, actually,” he scoffs, but doesn’t hold back his wide grin.

“Contestant, huh?” She scans him up and down, “Hm.”

“Hm?!” His jaws drops at the audacity, “I’ll have ya know I’m Japan’s best volleyball setter and soon to be the world’s best, thank you very much.” He proudly puffs up his chest.

“Oh really?” She teases, “Guess I’ll have to watch your competition.”

His ears burn, “Ya should!” He pauses for a moment, “‘nd I’ll have to watch yers too...” He stuffs his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, “Unless ‘course ya wanna give me a sneak peak now?”

This time, she scoffs, “Not a chance.”

“What? Ya don’t trust me?” He mock gasps.

“I don’t even know your name,” she laughs.

“Miya Atsumu,” he smirks, “Nice ta meet ya...”

She responds with her own name.

“So no quick twirl?” He lifts up his hand from his pocket and waves his finger in a circular motion.

“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’.

“Ah, alright. I’ll let ya get back to yer secret moves,” he sighs dramatically, earning him a giggle.

“Bye Miya Atsumu,” she gives him a delicate wave as he walks up the stairs backward, just in case she changes her mind.

He gives her a genuine smile, “See ya soon.”

When he shuts the door behind him, the familiar scraping begins again, and he thinks; he’s starting to really like the sound.

#daydreaming.fluff #daydreaming.longer #dreams.are.made #fluff #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu miya #hq #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu drabble #atsumu x fem reader

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shotomyheart · 3 years

Text

stoner!bakugou

to celebrate a beautiful holiday and a beautiful boy, here’s a little fic i wrote

bakugou x reader // established relationship

warnings: weed, swearing, not my best writing either whoops

It’s usually just you and Sero, sometimes Denki, up on the roof or in one of your rooms with a bag over the fire alarm and an open window. Today it was just Sero and you in his room after a tiring day. You both jump when you hear a knock on Sero’s door.

Panic ensues as Sero quickly lets out a, “in a minute!” And scrambles to hide away the jar of weed and his grinder while you removed the bag on the alarm and the blanket from under the door for the smell.

You hadn’t even started yet? How’d you already get caught?

Eventually, Sero opens the door with a strained smile expecting Aizawa, but it drops in relief when he sees Bakugou.

“What’s up, bro?”

You peek behind Sero to find your boyfriend.

“Katsuki!” You wave wildly. You hadn’t seen him all day, he was busy with extra training with All Might and Deku. Now looking at him, you can tell it was a long day. His eyes droop and he keeps wincing when he shifts his weight on his feet.

“I can’t fucking sleep.” You stand up and walk closer to the door in worry. Now up close, you see his tired red eyes and messy bed hair. “I heard weed can help with that shit, or whatever.” He doesn’t dare ask to join, that wouldn’t be Bakugou, but both you and Sero smile all the same because the more the merrier.

Sero steps back and grabs the plastic bag on the floor (nice hiding spot) to tape it back up on the alarm. You grab Bakugou’s hand gently and lead him inside.

“Long day?” You ask as you sit back on Sero’s bed, patting a spot for him to join. He doesn’t resist and grunts an affirmation.

“I got some indica that’ll help any pain and get you to sleep.” Sero gives a small smile to the domestic view of you holding Bakugou’s hand while he rests his head in the crook of your neck with his eyes closed.

Knowing Bakugou doesn’t usually do this, or has done ever, Sero decides to roll a joint to make it easier for him.

Sero takes the first hit and hands it to you next. You can feel Bakugou’s stare at your lips as you touch the paper. You inhale slowly, as an unspoken demonstration for him, god knows he won’t ask questions. When you let it out you blow the smoke out the window.

So Bakugou doesn’t feel any pressure, Sero pushes himself off the desk and goes to turn on his speaker to play some music to vibe to.

You hand over the blunt carefully to your boyfriend who hasn’t stopped looking at it.

“Don’t inhale too much too fast,” you warn.

He tsks, “don’t tell me what to do, shitty woman.” Clearly what you said was the wrong thing because he immediately sucked hard, but he didn’t last too long before he was set on a coughing fit.

You hand over your water bottle you always kept during smoke sessions and took the blunt from his hands with a teasing expression, “I told you so.” He can’t reply because he’s coughing too much.

Sero has to hold his hand over his mouth to stop laughing.

Since he did such a big hit for his first time, he felt the affects immediately.

After his coughing fit, he takes a moment to appreciate how it is to breathe.

The aches and pains he once felt are duller, not gone but he’s already happy with the outcome. He was too prideful to go to the nurses, and now he feels that was the right decision.

“Looks like he likes it,” Sero chuckles while grabbing back the joint.

For another hour, the session continued, now all three are on the floor looking up at the ceiling with awe.

“How’re you feelin, baby?” You don’t usually call him pet names in front of company, but both of you seem to have forgotten that.

“I feel...” his eyes stray to the side where your face is. “I feel good.” You turn your head to see his wide smile and you burst into giggles. The two boys join you, not because anything was truly funny, but all in pure bliss. “I can’t even feel my shoulder pain anymore,” he sighs in relief.

“I can’t feel my toes.” Sero gapes, then the trio laugh all over again.

After a little while and a go away blunt between you and Sero (Bakugou had enough), you decide it’s best to call it a night.

You move from the desk where you were talking to Sero and tap Bakugou’s foot who’s still on the floor.

“Babe~” you sing softly. He grunts in response.

“Come on, we gotta go to bed, you big lug,” you laugh as you try to grab his hand to help him up but he moves away and lies on his stomach.

He mumbles something.

“What?”

He grumbles louder, “already in bed.”

You try not to coo as he curls up in himself trying to fall asleep again.

With only a small look, Sero helps you lift up your stoned boyfriend. He curses all the way up until he stuffs his face into the crook of your neck again and latches onto you.

“Thanks again, Sero.” You whisper to not disturb the man child that’s leaning heavily on your shoulders. Sero smiles and bids you goodnight.

Luckily, Bakugou’s room is only a few doors down. When you get him inside he seems to understand what’s happening and immediately stomps over to his bed, flopping onto his stomach.

You smile softly, you’ve never seen him staying up later than 8:30, so this was a happy surprise.

“Goodnight, Katsuki.” You flip the light off and turn to leave when you hear another grumble.

You assume he’s just saying goodnight but when you reach for the door he pops up and whines, “Nooo, come back, wanna hold you.” You feel your cheeks warm by his blunt (ha) request. But how can you say no?

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shotomyheart · 3 years

Text

Gojo’s song

synopsis: a recreation of the first meeting between apollo and hyacinthus

gojo x gn reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

wc: 827

note: let me know if you would like a part two, it would be angst tho bc greeks love their tragedies || @doinmybesthere challenge

A beautiful tune rings lightly through the orchard. Gojo almost misses it, figuring it was one of the many birds that are hidden in the shade of the perfectly aligned trees. The sun has been beating down, demanding the strongest of structures to melt in sweat. The grass has turned into a crisp yellow, too dried out to stand after being smushed by Gojo’s shoes as he wanders.

As he does so, the tune grows louder, as well as his interest. A god like him could visualize the sound perfectly. The song is filled with summery colors interlaced in each note. It travels past his brilliant eyes and he hums with appreciation. It’s been awhile since a song could entrance him in such a way. It drew him in like moth to flame. Guided by the flowing music, he follows numbly as if the sound was healing his heart and mind until he finds you stretched out against a tree, playing the flute.

Your eyes are closed and your legs are lazily crossed, completely at ease. Gojo watches the light dance off your face as the leaves bustle quietly in the breeze. The feeling of peace never leaves him, even though now his mind had gone silent, and his vision solely on you. The music you produce is simply a masterpiece, but even so, he can’t bother thinking of anything else but the way your lips form a resting smile when you take breaks in between verses.

“May I play a tune?” Gojo chuckles softly when you sit up straight with alarm, not noticing he was there earlier. Gojo moves towards you as if he were floating. Your mouth drops just enough to make him smile.

He’s a god, he knows his affects on mortals. He’s known to believe in love at first sight, and he refuses to believe not every single one of his lovers hadn’t done so.

Gojo kneels down to your stilled body, not from fear but from amazement. He holds out a hand and you gently drop your eyes to it. Finally understanding, you surrender the wooden flute into his greedy hands.

Without readjusting, Gojo lifts the instrument to his pink lips after he runs his tongue over them. He stares into your eyes as he does so with an intensity only a god could give. He plays a single note, it whistles clearly and silences every bird in the area. He wants everyone to listen when he begins.

Music fills your ears, but it’s much more than your mortal music. You can’t quite explain the phenomenon, but this music is life itself. Not one bird dared to interrupt his song.

His eyes never leave yours and you’re starting to see every piece of perfection a god can have. He pours his very essence into each note like a gentle kiss on your cheek. You can’t help the single tear that rolls down your face at the raw beauty.

Gojo’s eyes catch the tear and immediately stops. You’re face starts to fall into a frown of disappointment before you freeze at his touch. Gojo holds your jaw sternly but not unkindly, as his thumb swipes the tear. The palm of his hand is soft, like the music he had played, while his fingertips are rough, calloused with the amount of playing he must do as the god of music. The idea that even a god can receive callouses brings light to your eyes.

“Come with me,” his voice is eager and filled with excitement, but it’s soft like a secret only you can know.

“What?” You almost laugh at the absurdity.

“Come with me, I know of a beautiful lake not far from here. I know you’ll love it,” he never wavers, his sincerity overwhelms you for a moment.

“I-I can’t. This is my father’s orchard,” you sit up a little straighter, “I am to stay here with my flute to ward off robbers.” Your music is so clear and precise, it sounds like you are just around the corner, it successfully keeps any trespassers away in fear of being caught.

Gojo leans back and smiles. As he stands up, he covers the sun from your eyes, “I admire your work ethic.” He looks around at the trees and listens to the birds beginning their songs again. “I will come back tomorrow then.”

Your eyes widen, “You will?”

He nods, sure of himself, “I would like to see you again,” he looks down now at you with his eyes steady in confidence.

You smile. “I would like to see you again, as well, Apollo.”

He isn’t surprised that you figured out his god-given name so easily. “Call me Gojo.” He hands you your flute back delicately, fingers brushing against each other leaving small goosebumps where ever he touched.

He never says goodbye, for he is certain he will see you again. Tomorrow, in fact. And the future will show, there are many tomorrows that will come.

#daydreaming.longer #daydreaming.fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #fluff

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shotomyheart · 3 years

Text

dreams stay dreams

mattsun x female reader

synopsis: working as a funeral director and priest isn’t exactly what mattsun had dreamed for himself

warnings: sad fic, not too much about romance but you end up with him, death (not of mc or you), not totally canon, my tenses are all over the place, mentions of drinking, mattsun can sing and play guitar bc i said so

note: this was an original piece i made when i was 15 and decided to share by replacing my oc with mattsun. bc of this, my writing isn’t the best but i wanted to share anyway

wc: 1.7k

POV: Mattsun

I always count how many flowers are in the room before anything else. I like to see how much the corpse was worth to people, how much they cared, or if they feel more guilt for not treating them better. It’s like a game, so far the high score is two hundred forty two flowers in one day. Today there are ninety-six flowers, most are violets, but some roses are spread around the room in bunches. The room has about a hundred people standing or sitting near the guest of honor. Most are crying, some laugh about good times. I, on the other hand, view others while leaning against the wall. In respect, I wear an all black suit, no wrinkles. My brown dry eyes stand out against the black atmosphere, but somehow I stay hidden amongst the crowd.

When people start to sit down, a choir softly sings songs about how great Heaven is and God will protect all that want to survive the world, not live, but survive. I believe the song was “Redeemer of Israel”.

I hum along.

I fiddle with my fingers as my father preaches to the crying children of God and tells them to rejoice in the aspect of life after death and rejoice in the temporary life the victim had.

Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice. It is a common word in my household of just my father and I.

When the ceremony was over, I wait until all of the guests have left, the immediate family being the final six to leave. The wife’s tears are silent while the youngest child was coaxed by an older sibling— I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl at my angle—telling the young boy to be quiet. I wonder if the child believes if he cries loudly enough his father will wake up.

The rest of the three, presumed, siblings hold onto another, as if grasping onto the last bit of reality. When they let go of each other, their eyes seem to gloss over in a new world, one of old memories that rained in front of their views. My father watched in pity.

That was the difference between him and I, well there were many differences, he looked at people with pity and I viewed them with knowledge. Knowledge of knowing what it’s like to watch themselves fall and their dreams to crack beneath their feet. It was a remarkable sight.

. . .

“The flowers go to-”

“Ms. Jackson, I know. They always go to Ms. Jackson.” I mumble. Another family lost a member last Tuesday and preparations were always the same. I set the six tables that rounded the room. Usually there were seven, but one of them was missing or broken, I don’t recall what my father had said.

At seven o’clock exactly I grabbed my coat and threw off my black tie that my father makes me wear to work. I unbutton my collar and shake off my coat once I shimmer into my rusting, dark blue truck. When I ignite my car, it rolls into the street with rumbles and creeks echoing into the silent neighborhood.

As the street lights become brighter and the people are louder, I slide into a parking spot. The Late Pool has bright blue lights illuminating onto the pavement as I walk in. With guitar in hand, I shift my way into the back of the bar. Crowds observed my every move as I confidently stride up the small stairs onto the dirty stage. The eyes of broken hearts and mistreated wives hanging onto the sex-crazed men that haunt the streets of Manhattan chug another fizzy drink that drowns their sober thoughts.

There was nowhere else I would rather be.

In the corner of my eye there is a large window and hidden behind the sleepless city was a church peeking over roofs and the dark sky.

I called to close the shades.

Positioning myself, silence echoed and my breath could be heard a mile away, but reality was people chatted amongst themselves, kissing and dancing to toxic music and to toxic thoughts. My fears wash away as soon as my guitar sings to the crowd and the dying club music shuts off. Ed Sheeran’s “I’m a Mess” flows off my tongue, bringing a more gentle feel throughout the bar. People continue to grind and shake off their regrets of that afternoon as my voice leaves my tongue and I cry to the Heavens and my Father and my dreams of tomorrow.

When I finish, the crowd rumbles out my name with a drunken slur and a tiny bit of admiration, but that could just be my tipsy state imagining and hoping.

It is ten o’clock when I have my seventh drink and my feet start to stumble. I ask for another. The burning sensation touches my throat as it swam to my thoughts. I threw my ideas up with my vomit as I rushed to the toilet.

Inside, a young woman approached me with a solemn face. Her cheeks were puffy, but I hardly took notice. Her black dress hung loosely on her and tear stains rushed to the floor. I would have recognized her if my eyes didn’t shift every two seconds. She took ahold of my hand with a firm grip and placed my hands on her hips. A buzzing moved in my pant’s pocket, but I was focused on the girl kissing my neck. I knew my breath smelled horrible, but she continued to kiss me with a fierce determination. The bathroom was messy and the tiles were old fashioned, I was pretty sure it was dirtier than my mouth when I ranted on to my friends. The night never seems to end, we drove into a sloppy night full of hope and wishful thinking, neither of us knowing the other’s name.

. . .

That morning I woke up with a groan. My phone vibrated in my pant’s pocket a few feet away. My dark hair stuck in uncomfortable places and my eyes droop with restlessness. The girl had rushed off to the bathroom to throw up while I kept the bile from coming up my throat, instead I take a deep gulp of air. By the fifth ring, I propped my body up and grudgingly moved toward my jeans. Sliding my pants on, I pressed the answer symbol on my phone and placed it on my shoulder and my head tilted to keep it in place.

“Hello,” I grumble. The smell of throw up and beer combined made my head spin even more. There was a sigh at the other end of the call.

“Finally, Mattsun. I've been calling you all night!” The deep loud voice on the other end made me wobble on my feet. I pulled the terror from my ear before I ran into something.

“What do you want, Makki?” I kicked a glass bottle away from my path to the bar counter. A young man wiped the counters down and I raise two fingers and mouthed the word “water”. The man nods his head and grabs two glasses and fills it with ice cold water. I sit down and grabbed the glass with one hand and the other held onto the phone towards my ear again. “Cheers.” I said to the bartender. He nodded and went back to cleaning.

“Are you even listening?!” I debate on asking for a shot of whiskey instead if Makki was going to keep on screaming.

“Calm down, what is it? I'm listening now.” I took a sip of my water and let the cool liquid flow down my throat.

“You idiot! It’s your dad…” Suddenly he hushed his violent shouts and I could practically see his big brown eyes looking up at me in sadness. The woman returned and I nodded at the glass of water to her. She smiles and takes the glass, chugging it down. Her face reminded me of someone, but I couldn't place it.

“What about my father?” I returned, impatiently.

“He’s dead.”

I don't remember if I started crying there or if I cried on my way to our house.

. . .

I count the heads of the people who entered the room. Today there should be about forty five relatives and friends arriving today. When I counted up to forty two, I began my speech of life after death. After a few minutes, Hallelujah rang into my ears as the women of choir sang to the distressed. In the corner of my eye, a bright blue light shines throughout the city, it seems. I go over to shut the blinds.

It’s been a month since my father died and it’s been exactly a year since we moved from Japan to have better business. It’s been three weeks and four days since I put my guitar away and it’s been one hour since I last saw my girlfriend Y/N, the one I met at the bar and later recognized as the figure who talked to the boy at the funeral. Our relationship has been speeding into a serious relationship, and like life, I can't slow it down. She told me I need a steady job instead of the bar, and reluctantly I agreed.

The church welcomed me with open arms and black cloth. I started working a week after my father’s death, rent was calling and apparently so was God. Things change quickly here, as suppose to Japan where there was always enough time to chat a bit and talk about dreams over a bit of beer. Now I realize beer isn't solving my problems and dreams are too high in the clouds for me to reach them, and so was rent in New York City.

So when I cried to the Heavens to bless the family who lost their member (a young girl of the age eighteen, some old drunk ended her sweet life of being a child of the richest family in the area, the Parkers) I cried to God to give me a window of opportunity to leave, or even a crack in the wall. The thunder outside gave me my answer. The dead stay dead. Just as dreams do.

#daydreaming.nightmares #daydreaming.longer #mattsun #mattsun x you #mattsun x reader #mattsun haikyuu #haikyuu #matsuwaka issei #matsuwaka x reader #matsuwaka x you #female reader #mattsun x y/n #mattsun x female reader #haikyuu angst #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq angst #hq mattsun

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