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rabbidbunwy · 13 hours

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🔞 Gojo x reader| Minors DNI| TRIGGER WARNING 🔞

LINGERING

synopsis:He can't seem to forget that day

Featuring: Gojo Satoru-Yuji-Megumi-Nobara

Contents: Gojo Satoru x Gen!reader-explicit content-death-s*icide-reader is dead-sad-teacher!reader- angst-minor character death-hurt-no comfort?-nightmare-hallucination-sleep deprived-heavy angst-forgiviness-touching-grave visiting

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive

Satoru arrived at school early in the morning. He parked his car and got out, stretching a little after sitting for so long. The whispers and commotion caught his attention. He furrowed his eyebrows as he heard your name. Satoru’s heart tightened, and his eyes darkened behind his glasses as he looked toward the crowd on the other side of the street. He slowly approached, his heart pounding. “What’s going on?”

"Sensei don't.. you can't" some student grabbed him stopping him "please you don't wanna see it"

The world around him faded as panic set in. “No. No, no, no” Satoru tried to push past the students, but they held him back. He wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t think about anything but you. Satoru didn’t care about anything but getting to you. “Get the hell off me!” He snapped, his voice tight and desperate.

A student held onto Satoru as more voices and whispers reached him. It sank in all at once as his chest tightened painfully until he could hardly breathe. All the color had drained from his face. It wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. Satoru ripped away from his student and began pushing through the crowd. He reached the source of the commotion and froze.

His knees grew weak as he stared down at the ground. His eyes slowly rose to your broken, bloodied body on the sidewalk. You’d fallen from the school’s rooftop and he was no longer strong for you. He was finally too late to save you. You should have stayed with him Why did you let him let you go? Satoru fell to his knees, tears blurring his vision and choking him. “You’re not dead” he whispered to himself, reaching to hold onto you, but his hand grasped at empty space as his eyes opened.

With a strangled gasp and tears filling his eyes, Satoru woke. Cold sweat was running down his face, and his chest ached like nothing else. He sat up, burying his face in his hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. This was the third time he’d had this nightmare. He kept reliving your death over and over. The pain, the guilt, and the grief were overwhelming, even in his dreams.

It was still dark outside. Satoru looked over at his clock - 4:03 AM. He could feel the tears still rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, standing from his bed. There was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Satoru would see your body on the ground.

He pulled on a sweatshirt and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. It felt a little easier to breathe out in the hallway, as if it helped him separate himself from the dream. Even so, it didn’t make him feel better. He quietly went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

When suddenly he saw a black siluette in the mirror staring at him with white eyes as it touched his shoulder cold radiating from it but when he turned around it was gone

Satoru jumped and let out an embarrassing yelp, instinctively shoving whomever had touched him. However, there was no one there and the bathroom door was shut. He gripped the edge of the sink tightly, his heart pounding. All that kept him from panicking was the idea that it was a hallucination.

He stared at the spot in the doorway where the figure had been. There was no way. No way he actually saw that. Maybe it wasn’t just a nightmare. He could have been sleep deprived and just seeing things. That made more sense than the alternative possibilities. He needed to just go back to sleep. Satoru quickly left the bathroom and went back to his room before closing the door firmly behind him.

But the siluette returned looking at him in the corner of the room,it somehow resembled you in a way,your waist distorted,bloody nose but "you" were simply staring at him

“I’m going insane” Satoru mumbled to himself as he stared back at the figure in the corner of his room. It wasn’t real. There was no way he was actually seeing you. There was nothing there, yet he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the hallucination. He froze in place, gripping his bedsheets in his fists. The figure wasn’t moving, only watching him.

"why didn't you save me?" 'you' asked in a distorted tone "i'm dead because of you"

Satoru was frozen in shock and confusion. If he wasn’t dreaming, and he knew he wasn’t, then this was more than a hallucination. This was 'you' standing there talking to him. But that should be impossible, you weren’t alive. You were dead. Yet… you hadn’t left yet. “Don’t say that.” His voice cracked and his vision blurred with tears again.

The figure still looked at him,is piercing gase deafining "why? why didn't you help me?"

Satoru’s heart squeezed tight when he heard those words come from your mouth. His fingers dug into the comforter as tears fell down his cheeks. He shook his head, his vision blurring. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that” he repeated, almost pleading for you to be anything but that. Anything but a painful memory of his regrets.

The figure suddenly lunged at him, and Satoru let out a strangled cry as he flinched and snapped his eyes open. He was alone in his room. The clock read 7:21 am. Sunlight was filtering through the curtains on his windows. He’d fallen back asleep, but now he couldn’t tell what was real anymore. The exhaustion from having nightmares and seeing hallucinations had left him in a daze.

The next morning

"Hi Sensei!" Yuji yelled as he saw his teacher at school

Satoru jolted, quickly snapping his head to stare down at the first year who’d yelled at him. He stared down at Yuji for a few seconds before his brain decided that he was, in fact, really there. “Hey, kid.” He forced a smile and ruffled Yuji’s hair, hiding the fact he was still in a daze.

Maybe he should sleep more. Satoru had already experienced several nightmares and hallucinations just today, and he wasn’t even fully awake yet. “Sleeping enough, Yuji?” Satoru asked, attempting to distract himself and appear as natural as possible. Yuji had probably never seen him anything less than perfect. He had to hide this strange experience from everyone.

Yuji grinned and nodded, his smile as bright and naive as usual. It was one of the few times he wasn’t covered in scars and cuts. “Yeah! I slept really well last night” Yuji replied happily. He was oblivious to the fact that Satoru hadn’t actually slept last night. “When’s training today?”

Satoru had completely forgotten about training today, but that was a welcome distraction. “As soon as I get my coffee” he replied, letting out a sigh. He needed a distraction and caffeine would definitely keep him awake now. Besides, he couldn’t be that far from well-rested. “Let’s go.”

Gojo was about to press the chosen coffee button machine when he still saw you in the reflection of the automatic machine

No. No, not again. He’d already hallucinated twice and now again? It couldn’t be real, this was another hallucination. He needed a lot of coffee. Satoru quickly stabbed the button, his gaze never leaving your reflection.

The pressure was building up the longer the shiluette was staring at him but it broke when Yuji spoked "Sensei? everything okay?"

He had just managed to distract himself for a few seconds, but Yuji’s voice snapped his focus back to reality. Satoru glanced at Yuji, giving him a small reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine” he lied. “Just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

There was no need to worry Yuji. Satoru was supposed to look after him, not the other way around.

"it's about y/n is it?" he asked approaching his sensei

Satoru tensed slightly at the name, his eyes widening for a moment. He tried to conceal the surprise and discomfort at having been seen through so easily. “Why would you say that?” He mumbled, still avoiding Yuji’s gaze as he leaned against the counter.

"Because…" Yuji sighed taking a breath "because…i ..we see you're more distant,you...you never stop looking at the place caressing it in where they died with a sad, guilty look" the boy breathed shaking "and also because we see that sometimes you talk to 'someone' even tough there's no one"

Satoru stiffened when Yuji mentioned seeing him touching where you died. He knew he had a habit of doing so without thinking, but he didn’t realize just how obvious he must be. The boy also seemed to know he’d been seeing 'you' lately. Had he truly become that obvious?

“I’m fine, kid” Satoru tried to insist again, but his mask was slowly cracking.

"you're not sensei" Yuji spoke trembling "it..it's not your fault if y/n sensei died,they..they…just.." the boy grabbed his arm as he tought whenever or not saying or not,he didn't wanted to be the victim here

“Yuji, stop.” Satoru warned as he tried to jerk his arm away, but Yuji’s grip was firm. He stared at the boy, his eyes hardening. “You don’t understand.” Satoru hissed, his voice becoming tense. This wasn’t something he should talk about. No one should have to deal with his guilt and grief, especially not his students.

"i am!" Yuji shouted "because" Yuji stopped biting his lip "you weren't there when i tried to stop them!" he sobbed covering his eyes with his sleeve "so don't tell me that i don't understand!"

Satoru stiffened, his eyes widening slightly at Yuji’s words. He stared at the student in disbelief, not knowing how to respond. How the hell was he supposed to respond? It was his fault. Satoru hadn’t been there that day, and he hadn’t saved you. Even Yuji had tried to save you, but no one had succeeded.

Yuji let out strained choked sobs "i miss them Sensei"

He reached out and pulled Yuji into a hug, wrapping his arms around the boy. “I’m sorry, Yuji” he whispered, clenching his eyes shut tight. He hadn’t seen how much Yuji also needed this comfort and closure. Satoru had been so focused on himself that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t the only one suffering from your loss. He rested his chin on Yuji’s head and squeezed him tightly, his heart aching.

You were like a parent to Yuji and when the boy remember it he letted out a deafeaning bloodcurling anguished cry as he sunk in Gojo chest

Satoru held him tighter, tears filling his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. It was breaking something inside of him to hear Yuji cry like that. It made him realize how much they had all lost. His family had been torn apart in front of him, and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Satoru took shaky, shallow breaths as he tried to rein himself in so he could help Yuji, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

They stood there for what felt like hours, both of them grieving and letting their sadness wash over them in waves. Satoru’s own grief, the exhaustion, and everything felt more than enough at this moment to break him. Yet, he somehow managed to hold himself together for Yuji’s sake. He gently guided the young boy to a seat, sitting beside him and draping an arm over his shoulders. Satoru let Yuji lean into him for comfort, trying to keep himself under control.

“It’s going to be okay” Satoru whispered, his voice quiet in an attempt to be soothing. He didn’t believe his own words, but he wanted to try. They both needed a little hope right now. “We’re going to be okay” his voice cracked and he squeezed Yuji lightly. “I promise,” he added, his heart clenching painfully. Satoru only hoped it wasn’t another empty promise.

Gojo could saw you again but you were slowly clearing smiling "thank you" you said before fading away

Satoru couldn’t help but smile sadly as you faded away. He knew you weren’t really there, but the sight made him calmer somehow. It was like you were granting him a little forgiveness. “Thank you…” he repeated, his voice a whisper. He rested his chin on Yuji’s head again, taking in a deep and shaky breath. Maybe he would finally be able to start healing now.

Perhaps your soul had been trying to give him a sense of closure all this time. Satoru leaned back in the chair, staring at the spot where you had vanished. As he held Yuji tightly and comforted him, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. You weren’t really gone, and maybe, he could start to accept that he had your blessing.

He would do his best to take care of Yuji and make sure he had the support he needed. He would continue to train him and guide him like you would have, and he would ensure that Yuji never blamed himself for not being able to save you. There was no need for regret, after all. Satoru gently ran his hands through Yuji’s hair, offering a small smile. “I don’t think they would want us to mourn forever” he whispered.

“They’d probably want us to be happy…” he added, looking down at his student. Seeing Yuji’s tear-stained face was difficult, but at least he was letting out his feelings instead of struggling to keep them bottled up. “And they want us to keep pushing forward.” Even still, Satoru couldn’t help but miss you.

The pain of losing you would never truly fade. It would always remain, a constant reminder of his failure and the love he had lost. But perhaps it was time to start trying to move on. To start living again and not focus too much on the past. After all, you wouldn’t have wanted Yuji or him to suffer like this.

Bonus:

They had gathered at your grave once more, each of them holding a bouquet of flowers or a small gift to lay beside the headstone. Megumi was uncharacteristically somber as he placed his own bouquet next to the rest, his expression dark and drawn. Nobara held a box of your favorite sweets, her usual upbeat attitude replaced by a quiet sadness. Yuji stood silently, gazing at your name on the stone with a sense of loss in his eyes.

And finally, there was Satoru, standing off to the side with a thoughtful expression. His eyes were clouded by a mixture of grief and guilt, but he remained standing quietly, observing the others. He had placed his own flowers beside the headstone, a bouquet you’ve always liked. Despite the pain of the loss, they were all together. And maybe that was enough.

“It’s been a year…” Gojo murmured, his voice unusually soft. He stared at your name, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe it’s been a full year already.” He felt the familiar pang in his heart as he looked at the others, all of them clearly struggling to keep their emotions in check.

Nobara was sniffling, tears streaming down her cheeks despite her obvious effort to remain strong. Yuji had his head down as he tried to hide the fact that he was shaking. Megumi stood silent, staring at the tombstone with a stoic expression, but his body language betrayed his own pain.

It was obvious they were struggling with the same guilt and lingering pain that had haunted them all for the past year. They had lost someone who mattered deeply to each of them, and it didn't matter how much time passed, the wound would never fully heal.

Gojo could feel his own heart ache as he watched them mourn. He wanted nothing more than to somehow bring you back, but he knew how futile that wish was. Everyone was trying to move on, but there was a part of them all that was still stuck in the past, clinging to the memories of you.

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sgtjamesrogers · 1 year

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Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar.

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis.

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days.

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it.

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.”

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad.

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.”

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.”

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.”

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.”

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.”

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected.

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection.

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!”

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger.

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.”

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up.

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat.

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?”

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.”

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return.

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie.

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?”

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic.

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes.

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why.

“Is he your new Keeley?”

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified.

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her.

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him.

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.”

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.”

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially.

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?”

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number.

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth.

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles.

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out.

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.”

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier.

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head.

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?”

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it.

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before.

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face.

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book.

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.”

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed.

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention.

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast.

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet.

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.”

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement.

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie.

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes.

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear.

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them.

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head.

Roy’s hands flex at his sides.

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs.

“There, all safe now.”

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow.

#ted lasso #roy x jamie #royjamie #jesse writes fic #my fic #grips the sink and stares into the mirror......... Who Am I

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