Reblogged
Reblogged
gojo had a dream you died.
it was partially the reason why he woke up in a cold sweat… it was horrid.
he could still hear your screams, the life leaving your eyes, but more importantly, he remembered your final words that were murmured to him. “satoru, don’t… cry, i’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.” and he believed you, that everything would be okay. despite tears filling his eyes, labeled the strongest at that moment, he couldn’t have ever felt so weak.
the dream felt so real, that was the scary part. he remembered each and every detail. from the feeling of you giving his wrist a light squeeze, the sweet smell of your natural scent.. the eerie sounds of your irregular wheezes as you were clinging on your final moments.
“don’t leave me,” he mutters, he remembers saying that. three simple words, yet his dilated pupils spoke a thousand. he started to repeat it. again and again as if it was a mantra. his words, his tone broke the more he spoke to you. that cute smile of yours never left your lips, it remained there. regardless of your inevitable incoming fate, he sobs, “you’re…you’re all i have left. i don’t wanna be left alone again, just stay. please, baby.”
“i’m not going anywhere, ‘toru,” you’d reassure him, a single tear drop of his falls onto your cheek.
after that moment, gojo wakes up. trembling, yet the dream wasn’t that feared him the most. it was him waking up with you not next to him..
tw: hurt/no comfort , chapter 261 spoilers , major character death -- inspired by @sttoru so please check their account out !!
i am taking requests and writing fics and matchups for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!
your shrieks could be heard echoing throughout the whole entire complex. everyone in the medical room pointedly refused to meet your gaze, knowing what had to be done. but you couldn't accept this as your reality. you wouldn't.
"please," you screamed, tears and snot running down your face, hair tangled and a complete mess.
you couldn't make anything out with your blurry eyes except the bloodied, stitched up figure laying on the table in the centre. the sight of your husband would haunt you for the rest of your life, image engraved into your eyelids.
"shoko, please, you can't do this to him, to either of them, please, please give him some decency." your hands grab the woman's as you plead and beg her. shoko only looks away, her eyes full of pity.
the exhaustion and dehydration catch up to you, and your body collapses into a bundle at her feet. your sobs only get louder as you grab at your best friends' ankles, gasping out a litany of "please shoko, don't." you couldn't breathe, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter.
she doesn't have it in her heart to look at you or push you away.
your sadness gives way to anger. anger towards the higher-ups. anger towards the fact that your husband couldn't even rest in peace after death. used as nothing but a weapon and tool in life and beyond death. anger towards the compliance of your peers and students.
you didn't care about the consequences. you just wanted your satoru back. would the child in your womb suffer the same way? you didn't even have the chance to tell satoru of their existence before the whole world turned upside down.
"he deserves to be buried," your shrill voice cut through the silence once more. you find the strength to stand up on shaky legs as you wipe the tears from your eyes. it's not long before they're filled once more, but you got a good look at everyone's solemn, teary faces. annoyance surges through your body.
"why is no one saying anything? this isn't humane, this isn't right."
"it's what he wanted," shoko responds, her voice small but unwavering. as though she was trying to convince herself what she was doing was right. her feelings could come later, but for now she needed to be strong.
you fall silent at her words, sniffing and trying to swallow back your sobs. of course he did. always the sacrificial lamb your satoru. never having a moment of peace except when he was in your arms, away from the monstrosity that was the sorcerer world.
"suguru would never have stood for this," the whisper of his name on your lips had shoko's head snapping to you. everyone else looking between you both nervously.
"suguru would never have allowed this to happen." you repeat, voice strengthening. you knew your best friend would've fought tooth and nail with you.
"you think i want to do this (name)?, i have no choice, it's our only chance!"
"you always have a choice, shoko. you always have one! yuuta's only 17, don't do this to him, please."
"and have him die?"
"death would be a mercy compared to whatever the fuck this is!"
shoko's words die on her lips. she knows you're right, but they both made their choices, and it was all for the greater good. she hated seeing you, her best friend, so hysterical. but her hands really were tied. shoko had to stay strong.
it's silent for a minute or two, save for your stifled sobs and sniffing. you could only stare at the lifeless body of your husband. even in death, he managed to look so ethereal and otherworldly.
you step towards his body, softly brushing the hair off his forehead. tears drip down onto his face, curving down the apples of satoru's cheek. he's cold to touch, so different from how he normally felt, always running hot. you kiss his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. his lips.
your quivering lips try to breathe warmth back into him. instead, his coldness seeps through you. you turn your eyes to shoko once more. you've never felt so weak and helpless.
"i just want his body to mourn, shoko, please. i'm not asking for much, i just want his body to bury. i want his body to be his," your voice cracks as you speak. "he deserves that much at the very least, his child deserves that much."
you hear small gasps from the people around you, registering your words. a newfound sadness and bitterness settles deep into their bones.
"i- i can't (name), i'm sorry." tears start to fill shoko's eyes, and you know you're fighting a losing battle.
you withdraw yourself from his body, and you attempt to stand up straight. you gently lift his hand to press against your womb.
the child growing inside of you may never feel the warmth of their father's touch, but satoru's love transcended time and death. he was selfless in the way he gave everything to you and for his loved ones.
"wait for me satoru," you whisper, sofly rubbing his lifeless hand pressed against you with one hand and his icy, hardened cheek with the other. his coldness settled into your body, making you shiver uncontrollably. a fresh new wave of tears run down your face.
it was a privilege to have been able to love him and an even greater honour to mourn him. you would carry his love inside of you, deep within the marrow of your bones, for as long as you lived.
"wait for us, my love."
i am taking requests and writing fics and matchups for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
Reblogged
✎ . . .❝ YOU SHOULD EAT SOMETHING.❞
— angst, not rlly any comfort, implied major character death, grief, light themes of depression, satosugu x reader, kind of proofread
everything looks natural from the outside. there’s a great window, one similar to the dozens above and beneath it, all giving view to different people and different families, going about their lives like everything is okay. they don’t know that the inside of one apartment has become a tomb of grief.
suguru is mostly going through the motions. he wakes up, kisses your head tenderly in an effort not to rouse your slumber, knowing it’s been another sleepless night for you. rubs your back, takes note of the darkness under your eyes, the frown that’s taken home on your face since a few weeks ago. ignores the empty spot on the other side of the bed.
“i’m gonna go make breakfast.,” he mutters, even though you never respond, and likely won’t eat what he brings without a little begging. you never do much these days, just burrow beneath cotton sheets and a thick comforter, blocking out the rest of the world. it’s all exhausting. there’s a pain in your heart, like someone squeezes it in their fist, only being relieved when you force yourself to sleep, or shut down your mind with thoughts of nothing, which is better than something. thinking hurts your head these days. brooding too long gives opportunities for memories of white hair, and blue eyes, and a sugary smell of dessert to make their way back, and it aches far too much. they make your head hurt, and your heart hurt, make your lids squeeze shut to fruitlessly battle tears that will inevitably make your eyes hurt when you cry too long, make your lips hurt when you bite into them too hard to choke back tiny, ragged sobs that break suguru’s heart further.
he comes back with a small plate of eggs and a croissant, an overwhelming amount that you don’t want to eat, but you force it down anyway, threatening to choke on it because moving is too taxing. but you don’t want suguru to be worried, and you know he would want you to eat, would squish your cheeks ‘til your lips pucker and teasingly chastise you for starving yourself. you can’t help it. though a distraction is welcome, it breaks down the walls you’ve built, opens nooks and crannies for the sound of his laughter and the feel of his warm hand in yours to slip through.
suguru gently pulls the covers down, kisses your head again before going to break the croissant up into smaller pieces. it’s the same song and dance, him offering you nibbles of food, easing you into taking even one bite, treading fingers through your hair, whispering words of praise as you finally swallow down a spoonful of eggs.
“you should eat something.,” you croak, breaking through the deafening silence.
and suguru won’t argue with you, he knows you know that he lies when he tells you he’s already eaten, and there’s no point in adding more weight to your shoulders worrying about whether he’s okay. considering your state, the concern for him provides a bit of comfort. so you two eat together, sharing half the broken croissant chunks and lukewarm eggs, a meal that will have to keep you both nourished for the rest of the day.
later, after an empty day of gloomy thoughts, gloomy looks, sleep, and rumbling tummies, suguru drags you both to the bath. the lack of coverage feels foreign, you miss the comfort of cold sheets, lip quivering at the ghost sensation of his wandering fingers pinching your hips. suguru runs a bath, gently places your coiled form in the soothing warmth of water. he doesn’t join you inside, he’ll bathe later, for now he can take the weight of your self care off his mind. it is uncomfortably quiet, save for sharp splashes as he wets his hands, runs them over your cheeks, brushes stray hairs from your forehead to plant another kiss. your gaze never meets his, you’re too ashamed at letting yourself go so badly, sticking suguru with the task of taking care of you when he’s also grieving so hard. he doesn’t mind, but you don’t believe it, won’t believe it and you’ll continue for a while to feel like a growing burden to him.
sparse suds float around the tub, connecting the occasional bubbles before they eventually pop and die. the stark whiteness of them reminds you of his hair, and your fingers twitch at the thought of massaging through his hair again. your shoulders begin to shake, frown deepening as tears begin to pour, and suguru dabs them away with tissue and thumbs. kisses your head again, this time lips lingering where your hair meets your forehead, smoothing over your trembling shoulders as he brings you closer to him. you take deep breathes, in and out like they’ve taught you before, because crying brings back more memories and you’re tired of suguru seeing you cry.
you go limp in his arms, all tuckered out. suguru rests a hand next to yours on the tub’s rim, and his heart feels a little less crushed when you nudge a pinky against his larger one. it’s one of the happier moments he’s had in the last month, ones where he realizes you’re still in there somewhere and not totally gone. he watches as you wave a hand through the soap, bringing it in an ‘ok’ symbol up to your mouth. his lips tug into a small smile as you blow a bubble through the circle of your fingers that inevitably pops when it grows too big. and it’s almost like you can hear his scoff, his ‘c’mon, I can blow a bigger one than that!’, and that memory hurts both your hearts, but at least it is a simple one where you were all happy in it.
‘i love you, suguru.’
Reblogged
𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 .
⟣ sypnosis. a nightmare of your lover’s disappearance wakes you from your sleep.
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, comfort, fluff. takes place after gojo’s unsealed but before dec 24th, bits of spoilers jjk leaks 236 at the end. mentions of death, blood.
⟣ note. based on it’s happening again by agnes obel. coping rn dhmu . . . not proofread bcs i cant read through my tears anyways hope u enjoy im gonna cry myself to sleep now
everyone has to die at one point — not even the strongest of all could avoid that tragical fate. not even the strongest sorcerer you call your lover.
no, not even him. the universe couldn’t spare him. you thought that maybe, it would. maybe fate wouldn’t apply to him. oh, how wrong you were.
blood splatter—a stream of red liquid. right at your feet. right in front of your eyes. a man in half. and not just any regular man;
“satoru !”
Reblogged
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x reader. angst. major character death. jjk 236. no comfort because i like to hurt myself mentally. mentions of death and blood. megumi mention.
⟣ note. nothing just tears and agony. no i actually cried making this, couldn’t proofread through my tears.
the sky was pretty. pretty as it always has been. maybe even prettier now that satoru’s realised how free he is.
looking up at the limitless sky, the overflow of blue, the crispness of the air — a needed moment of peace.
the ground was harsh. a contrast to the sky. as was the silence around him; the only sounds being his shallow breathing and the debris crumbling in the area.