🤍 Angie 🤍 @throwmethroughawindow - Tumblr Blog

THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL

nothing's fair in love and war

you died for ryomen sukuna. you refuse to live for him this time.

synopsis: you weren't supposed to survive. but when you're given a second chance and wake up from death's door years in the past, you're left to decide whether to stay in sukuna's shadow and repeat history or carve out a new path for yourself. when the latter leads you to falling for a pretty dark haired boy, you quickly discover that your history is a lot harder to run from than you thought. will choso help you through it? or will sukuna haunt you forever?

pairing: heian era!Sukuna x f!reader, Choso x f!reader

wc: 12.7k

content: mdni!! angst and fluff and smut!!!! character death, regression, reader dies and accidentally turns back in time, blood/violence, true form sukuna, he's a real asshole guys lmfaoo, sukuna has ISSUES, abandoment issues, trauma from death, emotional hurt, BUT COMFORT THIS TIME !!, moving on from toxic relationships, courting, choso is obsessed with her, garden dates, mutual pining, falling in love, kissing/making out, marriage proposals, accidental pregnancy, pregnant sex, oral sex (f! receiving), choso loves to eat out his wife (he just loves his wife in general), unprotected piv sex, doggy style, nipple play, creampie, sukuna being miserable and mourning what he could've had, VERY happy ending for reader

a/n: this is a commission by my sweet amazing angel @martianzmars and part two to this!!! ADORE you cutie pie :3 the sukuna art is by @alukaforyou <3

How long had red eyes haunted you?

Carved themselves into the deepest recesses of your mind, always present, always there, even when he wasn’t. Watching you chase after him, waste away days and years yearning for him to look back and realize you couldn’t catch up.

You clung to your last breaths like you’d clung to him.

Where had your love landed you? At death’s door?

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret a single second of it. Even if the last time you spoke to him, you told him you wished you never met him.

Sucking in broken gasps, tasting blood on your tongue as your hand traced over your stomach, making one last wish as you felt the faint kick of your child stirring inside of you.

That they would live.

It was a fool’s hope. Bargaining with the universe that they’d get a life you never got the chance to give them.

But wasn’t that what every mother wanted for their baby?

The best?

You knew you were going to die.

Could feel your strength slipping, heart slowing as your body grew painfully heavy. A hand was holding yours, the man who’d done this to you regretting his decision, maybe, no matter how much he resented Sukuna.

You weren’t stupid. You’d always suspected some day he’d be the death of you. Undo everything he’d built simply by being him. Pissing off the wrong person or pushing past his own limits until you were caught in the crossfire.

And now your baby would pay the price.

Something damp was on your cheek, and it took you a second to realize it was your own tears.

It was too late to cry about it.

But they weren’t for you.

Picturing a chubby-cheeked baby, fingers wrapped tight around one of yours as you cradled her against your chest, yawning as she blinked and revealed a pretty red pair of eyes you’d already spent your life loving.

Maybe in another one you’d get to adore hers too.

Dying wasn’t quite as cold as you dreamed of. No, it was surprisingly warm.

Almost like you were being held, squeezed softly as you drifted into the dark – only to blink and discover the ceiling wasn’t blood-stained.

The ceiling wasn’t the same at all, actually.

Belatedly realizing someone was shaking you, struggling to piece together your fractured surrounding until a flash of your former favorite color snapped you out of it.

You heard yourself say his name, a raw croak that came out more like a squeak. A completely different pitch than it had been before.

And the Sukuna in front of you was not the same one who left you locked up in his estate.

All scrawny, starvation etched features standing out in the dim lighting, just a fucking kid, your stomach dropping as you quickly glanced down to see that it was gone. What the fuck was this?

He told you to sleep, just as grumpy and gruff as you remembered.

Were you reliving your life in your last moments?

He shoved your face back into his chest, the scent of smoke hanging onto it as you squirmed in his hold.

“What’s happening?” You asked, unable to not sound like you were pleading.

You didn’t even know for what.

Confusion complicating the heavy feelings curdling in your core, loss choking you up as you tried not to cry on him.

And despite the bone-deep sorrow slicing through you, there was a faint sense of comfort too, body relaxing as you let him hold you, convinced it would be the last time. That the universe was listening and granted you one more night with him.

Brought you back to some of the best days of your life, where you were both still children, where the only thing you had to worry about was what you’d eat next and what the weather was going to be.

Before Sukuna became the monster everyone said he was.

You supposed you could pass on semi-satisfied falling asleep on his chest.

But the morning came again, and you were still stuck in your much younger body.

It was bittersweet.

You survived.

Got a second chance to go down a different path.

And still, you found yourself following your own footsteps. Treading softly after Sukuna, appreciating more than you had the first go-around. He might not admit it. Would probably never be able to see it himself, scoff at even, but Sukuna was kinder than you’d given him credit for.

He didn’t use soft words. Didn’t have it inside himself to offer you comfort in the form of gentle touches or genuine reassurance.

But he shared his food. Protected you even at the expense of himself. Giving you the thickest blankets even if he’d spend the night shivering when the wind whistled through the barely-standing hut you both holed up in.

And it was enough.

He had always been enough for you. It was him who wasn’t happy with what you had.

Who craved more and more and more.

It was only a matter of time before you were left behind again.

You waited. Sat by his side and nursed his wounds, using your experience from all the years you already lived with him before to help him heal faster this go-around. He never spoke of the past. Either of them.

Pretended to only be interested in the present while you wondered if he remembered his last life too. It would be a lie to say you weren’t tempted to ask. But you were scared to pry, to acknowledge what happened. What became of both of you.

You thought he knew.

Suspected it in the strange way you’d occasionally catch him staring at you, how he’d rip you back the second he sensed danger since you couldn’t properly see curses yourself, shove you behind him and scoff if you complained about getting covered in dirt. All four eyes narrowing like he wanted to tell you that you’d survived worse.

On rare occasions, when he wasn’t wearing a shirt or robes, you’d catch the corners of his stomach mouth twitching up when your hands swept over the scratches and burns that often ended up littering his body after battles.

It was one of the few things that made you hesitate.

If he did remember, if he knew, why wouldn’t he just heal himself? Was he not strong enough now?

He certainly was making fast work of forcing himself forward, of carving himself into the familiar shape you’d watched him whittle and warp his body into before. Muscles slowly growing as he scavenged harder, spread out further to find fish, although he usually only managed to snag a couple at a time.

You still preferred picking off the boney parts and gnawing at what was there to him grave robbing.

It was easy to find a new rhythm with him.

You stole. He fought. You both survived.

Often holding onto a single finger from his second left arm as you followed everywhere he went. Through the fields and forests as he spat out rants you heard so many times before.

He hated this place. Hated this world. Hated every wretched thing in it.

You had told yourself he didn’t hate you. Whispered it to yourself in the dark, kindled it until you were convinced that it was true.

Sukuna wouldn’t tolerate you if he didn’t.

Wouldn’t let you stay in his space if a tiny sliver of him didn’t at least hold some affection for you.

But lately, you weren’t so sure anymore if you could believe he truly loved you. That his heart beat for yours, his existence swirled and stood still the way yours did for him.

You knew how this story ended.

And no matter how much you wished the page wouldn’t turn, the weeks bled into months and the years started slipping by as you shrank more and more in his growing shadow.

You still thought of her.

Or well, you supposed your baby could’ve been a boy, but it didn’t really feel like one. Hand absentmindedly drifting over your stomach when you’d allow yourself a few somber moments to daydream about what could’ve been.

Of what your life would have looked like if Sukuna had just fucking stayed back then.

But no, even now, it seemed he retained that infuriating habit of running away.

“I’m going.”

He wasn't supposed to leave you yet.

Not now. Not for another few years.

You felt like you’d been stabbed all over again. As if someone had dumped a bucket of freezing cold water over you, ice forming in your bones as you choked on the rock his announcement had practically pushed down your throat.

A voice in your head tried to scold you, screaming that you should’ve seen it coming.

“You’re leaving,” you heard your own voice, but it seemed like someone else’s. Your own body was foreign, limbs that wouldn’t work, a heart that still kept beating even when it should’ve stopped a long time ago. A living corpse.

“There’s nothing for me here,” Sukuna grumbled.

Nothing.

That was all you were.

It wasn’t the worst part.

Wasn’t what gutted you the most.

No, what felt the worst was how badly you wanted him to ask you to go with him. You’d follow him anywhere. Go where he wanted. Do what he wanted.

You just wanted him to fucking ask.

To say it out loud that he didn’t want to live without you either.

All you ever got was silence.

His heavy stare, those eyes that you were pretty sure you’d still be seeing when you shut your own until the day you died again, his mouth twitching down into an irritated scowl as you stood your ground for the first time in your life.

And you accepted it the same way you accepted him, for what it was.

He would never ask. And you wouldn’t waste your life waiting for him to.

“I was happy,” you managed, refusing to let yourself crumple and cry as you watched him walk away from you again, feet glued to the ground as he disappeared into the daylight.

You just hoped that somewhere along the way, you had made him feel the same.

The simple days where it was just you and him, where you were sweating under the sun or shivering under the moon, were still your favorites. The moments where you weren’t worried about what there was to eat or how to make it through another day, when you managed to make him laugh or felt his touch linger against your arm.

And somewhere in the handful of weeks that followed, living in the empty hut you could hardly call a home anymore, you were forced to face the harsh reality that it was never the same for Sukuna.

That if he ever truly loved you, he never would have left you.

In the last life or this one.

Was it pathetic that you were pretty sure you’d never be able to move on?

Sad that you sat there for months, barely even managing to force yourself to get out to eat?

Scrounging for half the amount of food you usually did since you were all alone now, dealing with the painful awareness that it didn’t feel all that different to being with Sukuna.

It wasn’t like he even spoke that much when he was here.

But his absence was still heavy. Still weighed you down, tangled in an invisible string that kept trying to trip you up, tied to a place that smelled like him, felt like him. Clinging to tattered blankets you used to share, drifting off to dreams where he’d say the things you knew would never leave his lips.

It didn’t take long for you to give up on seeing him again. His path wasn’t yours anymore.

The village changed without him.

Felt smaller somehow.

All those strangers who simply existed on the periphery before slowly became more prominent.

It took time. But once they realized that the pink-haired curse that plagued the outskirts of their world, they slowly began to warm up to you.

You learned their names. Occupations. Families. Their histories.

Eventually began to exchange what you foraged for food and ingredients, used the skills you learned in your last life to start making a few home remedies for some of the children who got scuffed up running and chasing after each other in the fields. Word got around, and somehow you ended up studying under the only apothecary there, trading in the husk you called home for a warm bed roll and three actual meals a day.

They used to be villains to you.

Faceless bodies you demonized for how they ostracized Sukuna.

But it was hard to see them the same when you were being welcomed. When for the first time ever, you didn't feel like you were hanging on by a thin string, dangling over a bottomless pit waiting for the frayed rope to snap and let you fall.

It was good.

Particularly fulfilling?

No.

Still better than starving and scraping by? Very much so.

You bided your time. Appreciated that you didn’t have to spend your second chance surviving entirely on bugs and rotted leftovers while you honed the skills you already acquired. Saved up the meager money you made, held onto it tight as you tried to picture what you could make of yourself.

And when you were of age, you were surprised to actually receive proposals from a few of the other villagers, boys you’d never really see as men despite them being a couple years older than you here. Lingering around and pestering you with promises of a future filled with whatever you wanted.

The problem was, without Sukuna, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore.

Just that it wasn’t here.

It wasn’t until a group of merchants passed through that you made the decision to start searching for the answer somewhere else sooner rather than later. Regardless of how dangerous it felt to venture past the safety of your village on your own.

All from a casual suggestion made by one of them who said that you’d be better paid for your apothecary services by one of the clans in the south as you treated a burn on his arm. Slipping you a few coins and a rusted dagger under the table while the apothecary you technically worked under was preoccupied bartering with his friends for ingredients you couldn’t find here.

The universe seemed to agree with him when you stumbled on an orphan on the edge of the village two days later while you were scavenging for more herbs, her skin stained with filth, dirty nails clawing at the ground to pick out bugs.

Her legs were covered in scratches, but she had managed to make her own balm to cover them in.

You’d barely been able to get any information out of her.

Honestly though, she reminded you of well, you.

No family. No home.

Nothing but the clothes on her back and the cold look in her eyes that said she didn't want to die yet.

And you weren’t going to let her either.

Bringing her back with you, faintly aware that you were just shoving someone in the spot you were supposed to be occupying.

“Give it a couple years,” you murmured, nudging her forward, letting her take your place as one of the few people who’d shown you kindness skeptically raised an eyebrow. “She'll be even better than me.”

It wasn’t like you set the bar particularly high.

Living here felt like lingering in a graveyard.

The ghost of Sukuna haunting you as you walked away, deliberately heading in the opposite direction as the one you watched him storm off in all those years ago.

Once upon a time, you thought it was fun to travel. To find new places, etch the shape of the landscape into your memory as you explored how vast everything was outside the village with a protector by your side.

You knew Sukuna was still alive.

Heard stories and rumors spread from the handful of traveling merchants passing through during the warmer seasons. The man with four arms. The one who could wield fire.

He was already making a name for himself.

Carving out a reputation for being ruthless.

Maybe age had granted you a wisdom you lacked before, but you were surprised to discover that the open wound in your chest that typically throbbed at the simple reminder of him had started to close. It certainly wasn’t sewn shut.

But it wasn’t infected.

Didn’t seep poison into your blood stream as you travelled through terrain you’d once walked by his side and fell asleep to sunsets the same shade as his hair.

Wherever he was, you still hoped he was well.

That he was satisfied.

Would it be too much to wish for the same for yourself?

You picked up tidbits of information from the villages you trekked through. Asked around for directions, fishing for rumors about where you were headed.

The Kamo clan.

You didn’t remember much about them.

Only what the guards had admitted to you when they offered you meals during your pregnancy, discussing Sukuna’s alliance since he’d hardly been speaking to you.

And of course, the man you met in the garden that night.

You didn’t even get his name.

Knew nothing about him except the warm tone of his voice through the trellis, hidden from your sight as he awkwardly stammered out an admittance that he’d gotten lost. You had laughed at him, lips curling up at the joy of someone actually talking to you like a real person.

You offered him instructions on how to get back to the main hall, face flushing when he softly requested you join him on the way back to continue speaking, murmuring that you had a pretty voice.

Before him, you hadn’t even realized how sweet a compliment could taste.

How comforting he could feel to be seen.

Even if he technically didn’t.

You assumed he was a worker. Maybe a distant relative to the Kamo’s.

Would he be there?

It wasn’t like you knew him. Didn’t even have his name to poke and prod around for details on.

But you’d still like to take him up on a walk. Have that conversation from before, no matter how late it was.

How were you supposed to know you’d run into him when you’d least expect it?

You estimated you were only a day or two out from the Kamo estate – one of the outlying villages you just passed through directing you to a winding path carved into the land by horses or oxen.

Readjusting the bag you’d made yourself over your back, huffing as your muscles strained from the use, the last of your food eaten the night before, but you were used to being hungry. Treading forward just for you to feel a familiar buzz in the air.

The invisible thrum of something ridiculously strong, almost oppressive as you froze in place. You knew it wasn’t Sukuna.

But you were terrified it was one of the curses he used to slaughter. You were never able to see them. Couldn’t do much more than vaguely sense them, pick up the faint changes in the air before he made fast work of the things he used to scoff at.

Were you about to be picked off?

Devoured by a monster you couldn’t even see?

You were sure your second death had arrived – until you heard a man’s lazy laugh, casual voices conversing while you stood stunned.

“Can’t hit me? Come on, wound me a little,” one of them chuckled, baiting the other as your feet finally began to move. Just, well, in the wrong direction.

Your head was telling you to run. To sprint back to the relatively safe space of the last village who let you sleep there, but no, your body had decided to go towards the noises, flinching at the loud sound of a tree splintering somewhere nearby.

“I’m trying,” a man murmured back, and you stilled again.

Stopping as it struck you what was drawing you there, at what your mind had recognized before the rest of you.

It was him, wasn’t it?

The guy from the garden?

He wouldn’t recognize you, wouldn’t remember, but perhaps he’d still have a sliver of the kindness he previously spoke to you with. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, your breath catching at the sight of his bare chest, a few scattered scars over his abs, but far cleaner than Sukuna’s.

You continued, stepping off the path and into the grass as you lightly treaded over to the treeline, peeking through the foliage to find two quickly-moving men training in a man-made clearing. Both too distracted with each other to notice you creeping along the edges, avoiding the twigs and fallen branches.

“You’re still weak,” the first one teased, and the terrifying realization dawned on you that you recognized his voice too.

The heir to the Gojo clan. The one who killed you.

White hair falling in his face before he raked it back, blue eyes glittering in the sun as he dodged an attack too fast for you to see, pink lips curling up into a cruel smirk before he rattled off another taunt your ears refused to process.

Nausea curdled in your stomach. Fingers trembling as you barely managed to stifle an unexpected sob, throat constricting tight enough that you knew no puke would come out no matter how badly it felt like you wanted to get sick.

Your sweaty palm pressed against your stomach as you stumbled back.

It felt like you were about to die all over again.

Even if he had no reason to deliver the death blow this time.

His voice was in your ear again, apologizing softly when it was too late, holding your hand as he tried to justify what he’d done, half-whispering that Sukuna’s child wasn’t supposed to live as if his remorse could make up for murder. Offering that he thought you were like him.

Not his prisoner.

Locked up just because you committed the grave crime of loving him.

You still offered a warning. Told the man about to kill you that Sukuna was going to come back. That he was only signing his own death warrant by enforcing yours.

It didn’t change anything.

You guessed you’d never get to know what Sukuna would’ve done.

If your end would have mattered much to him.

“Oh?” His voice lilted up curiously, and you knew somehow that he’d noticed you, but before you could run, a sharp slice of pain pierced through your shoulder, a strangled gasp escaping as you realized you’d been hit by something.

Glancing down to realize your arm was bleeding, pain immediately radiating across your body as you bit your lip to contain another sharp exhale.

You stumbled back, losing your balance as you nearly hit the ground. Someone caught you before you could, a strong arm wrapping around your waist and hoisting you upright. Panic overrode the pain, fighting the hold as the memory of bright white hair and burning blue eyes surged to the forefront of your mind before you looked up and found the opposite.

“I’m sorry,” that soothing voice apologized, thick and low, and you stopped squirming, actually practically slumping in his arms as he supported your weight. “I, uh, wasn’t exactly paying attention.”

You assumed it was some innate ability he possessed, a sorcerer like Sukuna.

Truthfully, you hadn’t fully understood all of it, only ever taking the few tidbits of information he would give you as the truth – the rest shielded from you.

“You wanted a show, sweetheart?” His company called out, your blood running cold as you recoiled further back into the warm chest of the man whose name you still didn’t know.

“I was looking for the Kamo estate for work when I heard-” You started, unable to finish when you felt his stare on your skin.

It felt like he could see straight through you.

He didn’t remember, did he?

“Work?” That gravelly voice resumed in your ear, and you forced yourself to look up at him, pretending the other one didn’t exist.

“I'm, um, an apothecary,” you muttered, your head feeling remarkably fuzzy as his dark eyes searched yours.

“I’m Choso,” he awkwardly answered, remorse bleeding through his tone as his stare drifted down to where you were wounded.

Choso.

Something inside you clung to it, committed it to memory as you hazily studied his face. He was far more handsome up close. A clear complexion, harsh features standing out on his pale skin. Intense eyes that simmered instead of seared through you. Pretty lips that curled down not in condemnation, but concern.

“There's poison in that,” he frowned, finger tips brushing over where your skin had split open.

And before you could recite common herbs and flowers that you would need to detoxify it, he was abruptly placing his mouth over your shoulder, sucking hard on the wound like he was trying to draw out the poison seeping into your bloodstream.

Gojo laughed behind him, as if this whole thing was amusing to him, and you were once again struck by that dizzying sensation, abruptly aware of how lightheaded you were – and how heavy your lashes suddenly seemed to be.

“Shit,” Choso cursed, pulling back with his thick brows all scrunched together before putting his lips back on you.

You were busy thinking about how surprisingly soft they were when your vision blurred into black, and your body gave in, strength sapped before you could even realize what was going on.

Waking up in a bed roll sometime later, harsh sunlight shining down on your face forcing you to immediately scrunch your eyes shut again.

Had it been twenty minutes? Twenty hours?

Sitting up ached, groaning as your palms pushed up. Someone was helping you, an unfamiliar hand on your back assisting as you blinked and struggled to clear the fog from your head.

Looking to your right to find a relatively quaint room, bed rolls set up and a few dried herbs hung up on the walls, the translucent paper doors pulled back to let fresh air in, the faint scent of flowers carried in on the breeze.

“How are you feeling?” A quiet voice asked, and your head snapped to the side, heart stuttering when you realized it was just him. Choso. He was sitting on the floor next to you, face all scrunched up.

You turned your attention past him, giving the room a onceover to make sure you were really alone.

No Gojo.

You breathed a sigh of relief, rolling your sore shoulder back to make sure it was truly fine too.

“I think I’m okay,” you mumbled, tempted to peel back the bandage covering your shoulder and see what you were working with.

“Again, my apologies about that,” he murmured, and you didn’t know how to deal with…that. The genuine regret glittering in his stare, the one that hadn’t seemed to so much as turn away from you once since he’d accidentally struck you. “I feel awful.”

“No need,” you shrugged.

You had no interest in dealing with debts in this life.

Sukuna had once felt like he owed you. And in his own screwed-up attempt to save your life, he got you killed.

The fingers on your back twitched, and when you glanced back up at his face, you couldn’t really decipher the strange expression he was wearing. The tilt of his head, the way his bottom lip was slightly pushed out.

It reminded you a bit of a small puppy you’d once seen at Sukuna’s estate.

A stray that had wandered into the garden in search of food.

You’d snuck into the kitchen to collect some scraps, but by the time you returned, it was gone. Disappeared back into the surrounding woods, you supposed.

“So you’re, ah, in need of a job?” He pressed, and you nodded slowly.

It was odd to be speaking so casually to someone else. This close.

“I heard that I could find work from a merchant passing through my village,” you explained, examining the bandage on your shoulder, waiting for him to remove his hand from your back – but he didn’t.

“We could use another apothecary,” the pretty dark-haired man not-so-subtly pouting at you as you hesitated.

Wasn’t this what you wanted?

But now that he was freely offering it, you were reluctant. Scared that you were once again about to accept a path that would only lead to another ending.

It took everything inside you to shove down your fear, bury it in the same grave the old you slept in, and nod again.

“I’ve got quite a bit of experience,” you added, and the corner of his mouth twitched up, offering you a small smile that seemed to infect you too. Catching yourself almost smiling back at him, chest all funny and tight as he jutted his thumb back towards what you assumed was the rest of the estate.

“Do you need a place to stay as well?”

One thing was certain.

This life would not be the same as your last.

And maybe, you never truly needed Sukuna at all.

Your strengths weren’t the same as his. But you had still carved your own way out of the village he used to call wretched and wicked.

Found a future where you weren’t scraping by to survive.

You thought Choso felt bad for accidentally hurting you. That this was his form of an apology, giving you employment, a place to stay where you wouldn't need to worry about missing meals.

But he began visiting you every day.

Inviting you to walk through the gardens with him or join him for meals. Shy at first, avoiding your gaze and stammering a little when he addressed you formally. After a few months though, it had settled into easy conversations, your mood lifting just by the sound of his voice behind you on the duller days.

He’d sometimes drag you out, surprise you with picnics out by flowers, always asking you which ones you liked the best, seeking your opinion on even the smallest matters. Showing you small scrapes it looked like he only obtained five minutes before he showed up outside your room.

Occasionally, you’d wake up to a bouquet of clipped flowers, neatly tied together with bits of ribbon you began collecting, setting aside and saving. You started drying them too, pressing them in between pages of apothecary books that he just happened to have laying around, all in suspiciously good condition.

He'd been ecstatic when you told him you could read and write, leaving you notes tucked under your door during the day when you weren't expecting it. Asking if you'd help his younger brothers to learn the same like they didn't already have a tutor, simply to spend more time together.

It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize he was trying to court you.

And even then, it was only because you overheard some of the estate staff whispering about their young master trying to woo the new apothecary and realized what had been right in front of your face the entire time.

At first, you told yourself that it couldn't be true.

But after two weeks of studying his behavior, sneaking glances at him over lunch only to discover he was already staring at you, picking up on all the little ways his touch lingered, his fingers constantly grazing against yours and his hip bumping into your side, you started to think that perhaps it meant more.

His presence seemed to envelope you even without him there. His words clouding your head and things he'd given you filling your room.

Frankly, you didn't know what the fuck to do.

A man like that deserved better than someone as damaged as you.

Choso was soft.

You were used to rough. Hard edges and sharp corners that cut into you when you tried to get too close.

He made your heart flutter. Soar up into your throat and choke up all your words. You had done your best to ignore it. To wring it free of all those fickle emotions, but all it would take was one of those low laughs of his or his hand to skim over your skin, and it would inflate again.

The idea that he could possibly return so much as a sliver of those feelings was terrifying.

It only got harder to handle when you sent a letter back to your village to relay that you were working as an apothecary and could possibly send supplies only to receive one back a month and a half later informing you that there was no one there to read it.

Nothing there.

Only ash and dust.

The entire village had been razed in your absence.

It didn’t say if any survivors made it out, or even what started the blaze that burned it down.

But you knew.

Some small part of you convinced that it had to be him.

That Sukuna had returned – and left no trace of where you both came from behind. Was he coming back for you? And to save or slaughter?

You didn’t know anymore.

All you could really think of was the people who had opened their doors for you. The man who taught you the skills that helped you get here. The girl you’d brought to him to take your place.

Were they gone too?

Reduced to corpses at the hands of the monster they’d all been scared of?

It took every ounce of strength to not fall apart. To hold back the tears that wanted to fall and focus on working. On living since they couldn’t.

Choso tried to ask what was wrong. Expressed his concern no matter how many times you told him you were fine. Even bought you a silk kimono when he caught you staring at one of his father’s concubines passing by, clueless that you were just distracted and not wishing for something similar.

You didn’t know how to explain the guilt that laid inside your stomach, coiled there like a snake, waiting for you to let yourself relax to strike and remind you that nothing was going to be easy for you.

Even if being with him felt like the easiest thing in the world.

“What are you thinking about?” Choso murmured, holding out a small piece of fruit in front of your mouth, watching your lips as you parted them for him so he could pop it in. It was fresh. Juice dribbling down that he had to wipe away, the sweet taste lingering on your tongue. A rarity even in an estate like this – something special that was somehow reserved for you.

You wondered when this intimacy had become normal. Natural for you to be sitting just a few inches from him, letting him feed you as the spring sun warmed your skin.

“Can I ask you something?” You spoke softly, a little scared that just by letting the words leave your chest, this would all crumble into dust and you’d realize it was a dream.

Your brain conjuring up something wonderful in your final moments to cushion your death blow.

“Always,” Choso murmured.

“Are you courting me?”

He stared at you, brows scrunching together tightly as you held your breath. Would this be the rejection? The moment-

“Was it not obvious?”

Oh.

You hadn’t realized how much it had felt like you were breathing underwear until you sucked in air that wasn’t weighed down with a lifetime and a half of hurt.

“I thought you’d choose someone…different,” you carefully spoke, swallowing hard as he frowned at your statement.

It was true though.

You assumed he’d be in an arranged marriage. Perhaps with a proper lady from another clan. Or from a wealthy merchant family. Maybe he’d fall in love with a kind woman – one that bore no wounds or scars.

“You’re the one I want.”

Everything you ever wanted wrapped in a pretty package. A dark-haired man who could say it out loud without having to scoff or shrink his feelings down to next to nothing.

It hurt as much as it healed.

Felt like he was strangling your heart with his sweet words.

You hadn’t realized you forgot to reply until his face scrunched up.

“Does that mean you don’t like me?” He asked, and panic you hadn’t expected burst in your chest, your hand reaching out to lace your fingers through his before you could stop yourself.

All your attempts not to get attached had clearly failed.

“I do,” you half-whispered, even when it made your lungs strain to force the two syllables out. It went against what you knew. You were used to swallowing your feelings. Bearing the burden of them alone.

You didn’t know what to do when someone wanted to carry them for you.

He exhaled, lashes fluttering as he leaned in like he was about to kiss you before hesitating, waiting for you to meet him halfway there.

And you did.

No matter how wrong it felt to kiss a man that wasn’t Sukuna.

You used to think you were soulmates. Tied together by some string of fate, bound by an oath of survival.

It wasn’t until Choso’s gentle lips pressed against yours that you realized that might just be stupid. Sentimentality that only you were clinging to all this time.

He tasted tender. Softness you could sink into.

His fingers cupped your face, slowly slipping back into your hair as you sucked a little on his lower lip, teeth skimming over the unbroken skin.

Pulling back for air first as you forced yourself to retreat, studying his face for any sign of regret only to find stars in his eyes. The look of craving more you knew was reflected back on your own.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked, close enough he could brush his nose back against yours.

“You truly want to?”

“I've been dreaming about your lips from the first day we met,” he confessed, as if it was as easy as taking a breath. “I suppose I'll spend the rest of my life dreaming about them.”

Your face felt hot, growing warmer by the second as you struggled to find something to say to his open declarations.

“You can’t just-”

Voice faltering when his face abruptly fell at your surprise, unable to finish your sentence if it would disappoint him.

He scratched the back of his head as if he was replaying the last few moments too, tilting his head to the side before sighing, “I'm not very good with tradition.”

It wasn’t like you were.

He was the eldest son of a clan head. You were an orphan who had clawed through death to get here.

Your mouth fell open, but you weren't very good at answering with what any woman in your position should say. Unsure where he was trying to go with this, what he wanted from you until he spelled it out and left no room for doubt.

“Will you be my wife?”

This wasn’t how it was meant to happen.

He was supposed to go visit a woman in their home. Do the whole three days of back-and-forth. Hell, he could even have multiple wives.

But no, here he was, proposing to you without even the promise of sex. Asking for your hand in marriage despite your low status, watching you like he’d be wrecked if you didn’t say yes.

“Yes,” you murmured, nodding slowly as pure hope you weren’t acquainted with pushed up to the surface.

You liked him.

But even if you hadn’t, you knew you still would have the same answer. Choso offered security you weren’t accustomed to. Real safety in his strong arms when he picked you up and squeezed you, his soft laugh reverberating through you and giving you something to hold onto.

You were engaged.

He wanted to build you private quarters on the outskirts of the estate, something that would solely be for you and him, one that overlooked the little pond and garden you walked so often together. A place where you wouldn’t have to worry about the servants judging your status, away from the main houses that were always bustling and busy, preoccupied with clan politics.

Rather than it just being a pretty dream, he put it into action, hiring local laborers to start construction immediately, murmuring that as soon as it was finished, his father assured him he would make your marriage official.

And for once, you let go.

Released everything you'd been running from.

It was too late to change any of it. And you were tired of your regret ruining your second shot at happiness.

Falling in love with Choso came quickly when you realized you had been doing it all along.

Just in small increments, pieces of your heart slowly chipped away until it belonged entirely to him.

A year slipped by before you could even grasp it, floating on a cloud that never held any rain, no storms to weather through when he occupied your time.

Your schedule wasn't built around his – still keeping up your apothecary work while he found every excuse he could to interrupt.

People still whispered. Wondered what exactly he saw in you.

But it didn't bother you.

Because he was yours and you were his, and belonging to someone had never felt better.

Once your quarters were finished, he proudly showed you a tour of every room, kissing you at the threshold as you started your new life as husband and wife.

Telling you that you were his family now.

Pledging that you'd be his first priority, the pillar of his heart and soul while you tried your hardest not to break down and sob.

It didn't matter how many times he said things like that. Pieced together all those romantic, poetic words that you once never thought you would hear. Thought no one would ever feel for you.

But now you just accepted you'd been looking for them in the wrong place before.

Choso loved you. And you believed him.

Sukuna had never been capable of it.

It was rare that you thought of him.

Only on cold nights where the blankets didn't seem to warm your bones. Waking up from bad dreams where you were back in that tiny room when he locked you away. Sometimes when a breeze would pass by, and it would carry the scent of something burning on it.

You thought you saw him once.

In the garden while you and Choso had been tangled together, his eyes locking into yours for a handful of seconds before he was suddenly gone.

A ghost coming back to haunt you only seconds after you confessed you had moved on.

It couldn't have actually been him. The Sukuna you knew would have pulled Choso off by his hair, perhaps slaughtered him on the spot for the crime of touching something he once considered his.

Not leave without a word.

You told yourself it was just your guilt.

Resigned yourself to leave him behind in your memories the way he once left you.

Of course, you should've known better.

His father had informed both of you of their finalized alliance with the feared monster with four arms over dinner one day, both of them oblivious to the way you froze in your seat, knuckles straining against your utensil as you listened to them discuss strategies for strengthening the clan in this time of peace.

Their conversation continued casually, and you could only think of how much your wine looked like blood in this light.

Of what his reaction might be if you actually bumped into him again.

Would he be mad you married another man?

Or had he moved on too?

Replaced you with someone stronger?

You wouldn’t be surprised. You always wondered if he got tired of taking care of you. Sick of you lapping at his heels and tugging on his sleeves.

What actually caught you off guard was how little jealousy you felt imagining him with a wife, or even taking a concubine in the same bed he used to bury himself inside you in. No simmering coals or even flickering flames of hurt or anger flashing through you.

Because in spite of everything, you still wished him well. Content with how his new life had turned out.

All you wanted now was for your paths to not cross again.

You could appreciate what his place in your heart used to be from afar.

That was enough.

You never told Choso about him. Only about the boy who helped you survive once upon a time. A fellow outcast from your childhood who left for a different path.

Truthfully, you hadn’t spoken of your younger years much at all with him. Vaguely reminiscing about the rare good memories you had when he’d relay cute stories of his siblings, playing the proud big brother while you were ashamed to admit to what roles you’d put yourself in.

The girl pining after a boy who let her die.

Who left her again and again.

At least you weren’t her anymore.

At least, with Choso, you were loved.

“You seem nervous,” he murmured softly when you were back in bed that night, your soft thigh slotted between his muscled ones.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t.

But you didn’t like to lie to him.

Even if you omitted the truth sometimes.

“Won’t the Gojo clan try to take action against us or him?” You tentatively asked, letting him sift his fingers through your hair as he sleepily snuggled closer. You couldn’t remember the last time you said Sukuna’s name.

“He’s a threat, but he’s still a man,” Choso muttered, craning his neck down to plant a tender kiss on your finger where you were slowly drawing stars on his chest. “He has no wife, or even concubines. Maybe it’d be a different story if it appeared he was planning on having children, but-”

He was still speaking, reassuring you that there was nothing to worry about, reminding you that he was on friendly terms with Satoru, clueless at how casually he was throwing around the name of a man who once murdered you and Sukuna’s heir.

Was it your fault then?

Were you really the one to blame for the attack on Sukuna’s estate – simply for having his baby?

No.

You were sick of blaming yourself.

He was the once that shuttered out the rest of the world. Turned his back and decided it was him against everyone else. Made himself the villain without any regard for who would be collateral damage for his cause.

It appeared he had once again decided he’d prefer to be alone.

“What do you think?” Choso asked, dragging you back out of your dark thoughts.

“Mm?” You murmured, making yourself look back up at him. Your husband. The man who hadn’t hesitated to marry you. Who happily called himself your other half.

“Would you like a baby?” He spoke softly as he changed the grim subject, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Someday,” you shrugged slightly, struggling to swallow the pit pooling in the back of your mouth at the idea of actually going through that again. “Maybe.”

It was hard to stomach the idea of having another baby when you were scared you would look down at him or her and wonder what could've been.

You never planned on someday meaning you would miss two periods in a row a matter of months later.

Perhaps you should have seen it coming.

You supposed you should've tried harder to avoid it. Taken more care to not conceive.

It slipped your mind that this body of yours was in much better condition than it had been before. Not so many years of starving and subsisting on meals you had to share with Sukuna, a much less strenuous and stressful lifestyle when you had the support of more than one person.

Still, you couldn't bring yourself to tell Choso once your suspicions only appeared to confirm themselves in the coming weeks. You knew you should just say it. That he wasn't Sukuna. Wouldn't lock you up and leave you.

But getting the words out felt impossible.

A lump in your throat as familiar symptoms began showing up. Breasts swelling, nausea stirring, exhaustion settling, all while you tried to act like everything was normal with your husband.

Keeping up with your apothecary work while your body ached and begged you for naps, craving snacks throughout the day just to devour whatever Choso brought for picnics for lunch.

Until he happened to bring fish, and your stomach immediately revolted in protest at the smell.

You were bending over the closest bush, puking up the few bites you managed before as your husband immediately panicked. Holding your hair and rubbing your back, asking if you were alright while you coughed, hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Crying wouldn’t help, but it was just another thing you couldn’t stop, damp streaks on your cheeks as you knew that you couldn’t keep this to yourself anymore.

“I think,” you paused, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as another wave or nausea passed, gagging before you were able to clear your throat and speak again. “I may be pregnant.”

You waited for your world to fall apart once more.

Trembling as you snuck a tiny peek over at him, but he was already leaning over to pull you against his chest for a hug as if you hadn't just tossed up your lunch in a bush. His entire face lit up, eyes glittering as he squeezed you tight.

“Are you sure?” He asked, unmistakable excitement in his voice as he started decorating your face with kisses. Lips messily pressing all over your cheeks, against your jaw, grazing over your forehead.

“Not completely,” you murmured.

Maybe that was more like you didn’t want to believe it. To accept that you would spend months worrying that you’d meet the same fate you had before.

Some sliver of you was grateful that you wouldn’t have to experience it on your own. That, even if history repeated itself, and you didn’t get to have this child either, you’d at least get to spend the last of this time with someone who genuinely wanted you and your baby.

“Still,” Choso grinned, wide and rare, his usually dark eyes opened all the way for once as his hand reached for your stomach. “We might be having a child.”

“You’re not scared?” You asked, and he immediately shook his head, a lopsided smirk forming as he pressed his palm against your robes.

“A baby with you is the greatest gift I can imagine,” he answered without hesitation. Without a pause or a flinch. Raw honesty in the low rumble of his voice. Sincerity that bled into his dark eyes, boring into you under his thick brows as he pulled you against him for another hug. Murmuring in your ear that he’d make sure the chefs would start preparing you a special diet, one that would be good for the baby, talking about building baby furniture because he refused to hand them over to nannies and nurses for days at a time.

And his confidence was enough to quell your own concerns.

For a little while.

Every month brought more changes to your body.

Created new worries in your mind when you’d overhear his father discussing their alliance with Sukuna or see Satoru visiting from across the estate.

It didn’t take long before you couldn’t hide your pregnancy from anyone, a noticeable bump present no matter what robes you wore, although Choso had pretty much bragged to every member of the estate already about his wife and his baby.

Your hand drifted back over the growing swell of your stomach, feeling the faint kicks beneath your stretched-taut skin, mind refusing to slow down as your husband dozed off into dreams next to you. His own palm placed below your belly button, resting there gently as his back pressed against your spine.

Was it normal to be afraid?

For the fear to sink into everything you did these days, head snapping at every little sound, panic pulsing through your veins when Satoru came to visit, despite the fact he’d been nothing but nice to you this time.

He even sent a gift for the baby.

Tiny silk robes in that familiar shade of blue, attached to a note rambling about his own life before adding a line about hoping the three of you were doing well.

It took everything inside you not to burn it while Choso wrote a letter back thanking him for his generosity.

You knew it was wrong to hold it against him.

That he had no clue what he’d even done to you. No memories of your death at his hands. Even the version of him that did it had felt bad about your death. But it didn’t erase what happened.

Sure, the events were changed, but the effects lingered.

He was friendly now, but what if he decided that this child was a threat too?

You couldn’t protect your baby before. You couldn’t even protect the village who helped you get here. They all died.

And you could talk yourself in and out of circles about it, but it was hard to convince yourself all this time later that you didn’t bear some responsibility for it when simply looking down at yourself reminded you of everything you lost.

Choso noticed your distance.

But he just held fast anyway, supported you when you didn’t know how to get any of the stuff in your head out of your mouth.

Showering you with affection like he was trying to show you he was sturdy enough to weather any storm for you.

“Will you be disappointed if our child is a girl?” You found yourself asking him late in the evening one night, and Choso’s mouth twisted into a stiff pout. Brows scrunched together as his palm paused over your stomach where he was massaging lotion into your skin with the hopes the baby would kick or shift, a glob of it slowly starting to slip down without him rubbing it in.

You never got the chance to have this conversation with Sukuna.

Although, it probably would have been a pointless one.

If he was to have an heir, he'd only want a boy. Someone he could harden. Mold into a miniature version of him.

Of course, maybe you were just being bitter. Making assumptions from the scars he'd left you with.

“Do you truly think it would make any difference to me whether our baby is a boy or girl?”

No.

Not him.

But you wanted the reassurance anyway.

The comfort that came with hearing the words out loud.

You were instinctively leaning into him, trying to take some of his warmth for yourself while he shook his head at the mere idea of being disappointed by your child.

“Besides,” he hummed, letting you lace your wrists around his neck and bury your face against his chest, cradling you closer. “We can always make more if you wish.”

Like he wouldn't blame you for preferring one or the other.

“We have not even had one yet,” you softly scolded him, and he was abruptly moving his hands around to your back, easily lifting you despite how far along you were, carrying you back to bed as he forgot the task at hand. Your open robe fluttered around you as he laid you flat on the bed, his soft hands hastily rubbing the last of the lotion in as he leveled you with his serious stare.

“I'd have ten with you if you let me,” he murmured, like he had last found his real purpose in life being a father.

“We are not having ten,” you giggled a little, making a conscious choice to release the tension you were used to clinging to.

“Five?” He proposed, making you laugh harder just so your mouth would be open for him to kiss. You were so distracted by the heat behind it, how he immediately began to suck softly on your lower lip and pull you into his tide that you hadn’t realized he was trying to distract you from turning down his compromise.

And honestly, when he was on you like this, you wouldn’t really mind giving him five kids. Having a family.

You broke away for a second to breathe, but he just used it as an opportunity to start trailing kisses lower down your throat while your fingers ran through his soft hair.

“Maybe we can practice making them,” you muttered, and that was all he needed to hear.

He helped you sit up enough to get your robe off you entirely, striping you bare before removing his own barely-there nighttime attire. His chest had somehow gotten even broader in recent years, tapering down to his pretty waist, defined muscles carved into them as his pretty cock sprang up, tip swollen and pink like your permission was enough to summon an erection.

Sex wasn’t quite the same with a huge bump in the way.

But it didn’t stop him from throwing your legs over his shoulder and burying his face between your thighs.

Eagerly licking and lapping you up, dragging his tongue over your entrance before shoving it in. Swirling it around as if he would die if he didn’t savor you, pleased to rut against the bed as long as some part of him got to be inside of you.

He always ate you out like he was dying of thirst, the thick muscle of his tongue working in-and-out with a desperation that couldn’t be matched. Raw need in the way he whimpered as if he was on the receiving end, forcing it in as deep as he could while your thighs clamped down on his head.

His intensity was intoxicating. It made you feel drunk, dizzy on his affection as the heat in your core grew hotter and hotter with each sweep of his tongue.

“Fuck, my angel, you taste so goddamn good,” he groaned into you, the reverb of his voice ricocheting around in your chest as you made some keening sound in return.

Unable to form the words to express how he made you feel despite how long you’d been together, how many times you’d been in this position for him.

“C-Cho,” you whined, thighs tensing as you tried to tug him up by his hair.

Painfully impatient, your body pulsing as your pussy ached for more. And honestly, your husband would probably spend the entire night buried in you only to come up for air if you let him.

“Mm?” You didn’t know if it was actually meant to be a question, but it sounded like one all muffled between your thighs.

“I want you,” you huffed, wiggling your hips like it would make your point.

“Say it again,” he dared you, having to peek up at you from above your baby bump as you rolled your eyes at him, pushing out your bottom lip in a pout.

“I want you,” you echoed, emphasizing it more this time as his lips curled up in a crooked smirk.

“I love you,” he said in the next breath, and it still made your heart flutter.

Squeeze tight as he lavished that love on you openly.

Loving him back was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You let his big hands flip you around onto your hand and knees, nudging them further apart as he readjusted behind you, making sure you were supported by his grip before he even slipped his cock between your slick folds.

“Look at this,” he muttered, his naturally gravelly voice making you clench around nothing, the faint click of his tongue leaving you latching onto every tiny sound he made as he stared at you. “How lucky am I.”

Was it luck?

Or were your fates tied together too? Was this second life of yours always going to lead you to him?

You hoped so.

Hoped that you were always meant to be his.

But if you weren’t, you were still happy you got to choose him.

His cock slipped inside you slowly, taking his time to push through despite the lack of resistance. Like he appreciated every inch that got to experience your warmth, loudly groaning your name.

He didn’t fuck you like Sukuna.

He didn’t slam you into the bed or manhandle you into whatever position he was feeling like.

Choso was soft.

Slow.

Deliberate in a different way. Treated you with consideration, making sure you were comfortable every step of the way, checking in sometimes when it wasn’t even necessary.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, reverence in each stroke of his hips as they hit your skin. Not rough, not pounding into you with reckless abandon, but in a steady rhythm, his cock filling you up in all the right spots, nudging against all those sensitive spots inside you without letting the pleasure venture into pain.

“You’re even prettier,” you whispered back, nails digging into the blankets underneath both of you, glancing back over your shoulder to see what sort of face he was making.

His head was tilted back, scrunched up in pleasure, the lump in his throat bobbing wildly as he grinded deeper.

One of his hands groped at your breasts, squeezing and groaning at how swollen they’d become, although your milk had yet to come in. You supposed once the baby was here, he’d probably be battling her for who got to have them more.

He rolled a nipple between his thick fingers, his cock pumping in-and-out as you gasped at the sensation, the peaked buds extra sensitive these days. One hand still firmly planted on your hip as the rest of his body leaned forward, his hard and chiseled chest against your much softer back.

“My beautiful wife,” he purred, pressing kisses across your bare shoulder blades, playing with your nipple as his cock throbbed inside of you.

You probably could cum just from his words alone.

Body reacting to every little thing he did reflexively, burning up from the inside out as the filthy sounds of him filling you up replayed in your ears.

“You’re everything to me,” he mumbled, half a moan, and truthfully, that was all you had ever wanted.

To matter that much.

The hand on your hip readjusted, slipping down so he could rub your clit like it was something to worship, his endless adoration present even in the way his thumb swept over the bundle of nerves. He didn’t try to push you to your peak, or drag you to an orgasm, no, it was more like being gently guided there, each steady motion bringing you closer and closer as he praised you with soft reassurances.

“Cho, m’getting close,” you whispered, head falling forward as your body began to tremble. Shutting your eyes and focusing on all the places where you were connected.

“Cum for me, baby,” he murmured back.

It was that easy with him.

Words backed up by his actions.

Finishing fast, crying out his name as his thrusts started to stall out, his fingers twitching over your clit as he tried to hold out a few seconds longer to soothe you through it. But then he was right there with you, warm ropes of cum filling you up since he couldn’t get you pregnant again anyway.

Both of you shivering and shuddering as you came back down from the pleasure before he was helping you roll over onto your side, murmuring that he’d go get you a washcloth when he forced himself to pull out a few minutes later, leaving a little kiss on your arm as he got up.

Your hand drifted to your stomach as you yawned, eyes threatening to shut again, to drift off into dreams as you traced over the physical proof of how much Choso loved you. The baby you made together.

Although the thought made you pause, your mind conjuring up something you’d silently been considering.

You and Sukuna had regressed. Souls saved and offered a second chance.

What if your child had been given one too?

You didn't have an explanation.

But you faintly felt a growing certainty that the baby inside you was one that had been there before. Granted another opportunity for a different future – this time with a father who wouldn't be scared to love her.

“You're just hoping to see her, aren't you?”

Sukuna scoffed at Uruame’s not subtle suggestion.

“Weren't you the one that said we should keep an eye on our allies?” He grunted, glaring at the books in the library as he waited for Kenjaku to join him for this impromptu meeting.

In the four years since he'd seen you in that garden, sprawled out and squirming for another man, he hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of you in the sprawling estate he started to hate visiting.

And yet, here he was again, with a weak excuse of discussing defenses neither he nor his ally needed.

“My apologies, my-”

“Go see what’s taking him so long,” Sukuna dismissed his servant, waving them away as his foot tapped the floor. Slouching in a chair that was too small for him, shifting his bottom set of arms in his robes as his skin itched with discomfort.

Today would likely be no different than the rest of them.

Another long one without any sign of you.

His loneliness only led him to wondering whether or not you truly remembered your last life together.

Sometimes, he was certain. So sure when he'd think of the words you left him with, the way you looked at him, that you knew. But then he'd let the doubt creep in that you had never actually admitted it, as if it would absolve him of the guilt of your death as long as you didn't remember it.

It wasn’t like you were wasting away mourning him. No, you moved on.

You had married that boy.

Although, he guessed the Kamo heir was technically older than both of you, despite lacking the extra years of experience Sukuna’s past life had granted them.

He had the displeasure of meeting him a few times, barely able to contain his irate scowl every time he spoke. All quiet, the tone of someone who never had to go through anything remotely terrible.

What was it you saw in him?

Softness?

Someone you could take advantage of for safety?

He’d like to think that. Water your relationship down to something you’d done out of necessity rather than believe any of it was real.

There were days he considered waging war, ripping every building of this estate apart until he found you. Imagined himself stealing you away from here, running off to some other shithole village and taking it for just the two of you. Live like the old days.

Free and unburdened from the rest of the world.

But every time he got close to actually doing it, that face you made when you told that asshole you loved him and he ended up going out to rip apart curses to take his rage out instead.

“You look funny.”

A squeaky voice snapped him out of it.

Both his mouths immediately curved down into deep grimaces, brows pinching together as he glanced up to see-

Oh.

A ghost was standing in front of him.

Tiny hands and chubby cheeks. Hair that looked just like yours and a face that has haunted too many of his nightmares for him to ever forget.

And a set of red eyes that reminded him of himself.

His throat closed up, constricting at the thought of this toddler looking exactly like the child he had desperately spent decades attempting to scrub from his memory. One that had never been born.

That he failed to protect before she even sucked in her first breath.

She stepped closer, not scared of him, just blinking up as she stopped just shy of his robes, familiar features scrunching up in confusion as her finger reached out to poke him.

No.

It couldn’t be real.

She-

“Sweetheart,” your soft voice called out, and it felt like someone was strangling him. All the air sucked out of his lungs as your daughter turned around, scampering over to the sound.

He couldn’t stop his head from swiveling towards you too if he wanted to.

Everything he’d been running from hitting him all at once at the sight of you, immediately noticing all the little changes that somehow made the heart he was sure had shriveled come back to life. The cute smile lines etched by your mouth, your face softer now, no hurt lingering in your eyes as you met his stare, only a brief second of shock registering before you immediately released it.

And then, you surprised him again.

You smiled.

“Sukuna,” you said his name the same way you did in his dreams. Without judgement or fear. Accepting him and all of his atrocities later. “How have you been?”

“I see you’ve been busy,” he grunted, still incredibly stiff as you let out a small giggle, stroking your daughter’s hair softly.

“Yeah,” you agreed in a quiet hum, glancing down at her with easy adoration. “Was she bothering you?”

“No,” he huffed, a little too fast to seem normal.

His eyes flitted back down to her, a heavy weight settling in his stomach as he started to consider how it was even possible for her to have those eyes if she was a Kamo.

He didn’t want to consider the alternative.

To accept the chance that perhaps her soul was half his after all.

“He looks funny,” she repeated, innocently batting her lashes as she pointed a finger back at him.

“You can’t say that,” you scolded her, mouth falling open as you apologetically glanced back in his direction, exhaling like you were used to wrangling her.

“Come here,” he grunted, and she was already scampering over before you could grab her.

Your lips pressed together, but you didn’t tell her to stop.

Some part of you trusted him despite all that he’d done. Held out that stupid hope of yours that he changed.

Maybe he could’ve.

If this was his. If you and her belonged to him instead of someone else.

But he doubted it.

He didn’t know how to treat children. Not when he’d only been treated poorly himself.

“Are you going to eat me?” She questioned, rightfully assuming he was a monster.

“He’s not-”

“I might,” he dryly said, parting his robes just enough for her to see the mouth on his stomach, earning a laugh from her as you resisted one yourself.

“Do you have to brush those?” She pointed at one of the teeth inside it, and his eyes betrayed himself by looking back at you, trying to silently ask what he suspected.

Did you think she was his?

Before he could reply, she was already leaning in, sticking a sticky finger to poke a sharp canine while you huffed at her to stop.

“Don’t be a brat,” he muttered, jaw clenched tight as he tried not to smile. “Listen to your mother.”

It nearly sounded natural coming from his mouth.

You made a small noise of surprise, but you didn’t tell him to stop either as your daughter returned to you again.

“Is he your friend?” She asked, although in her voice, the words were barely pronounced correctly.

“We actually lived in the same village together when we were children,” you answered, smiling at the memory as if it was something you were still fond of while you poked your daughter’s nose. “Like you.”

This reunion wasn’t awkward.

No, it almost felt how it used to.

The fog he’d been living in parting for a few clear moments, your face filling a void he’d been ignoring for so many goddamn years. Emptiness he’d convinced himself was normal suddenly occupied, re-coloring his entire world in a handful of minutes spent in your presence.

But the door to the library opened, and the man you’d chosen over him interrupted.

“There’s my girls,” he huffed, casually hugging you from behind, his dark eyes only flitting up to notice Sukuna at the last second. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were visiting today.”

“Your father is late,” Sukuna snapped, his voice tight and laced with a bitterness he wished wasn’t so obvious.

“Did you know mommy and S’kuna were friends?” Your daughter asked your husband innocently. Sukuna honestly wanted to know too.

“Hi, Cho,” you spoke softly, breaking the tension easily. Giving him those eyes that would make a man melt, turning in his grip to place a hand on his chest. “It was back when we were kids. In the village.”

Judging by the surprise flickering across his pale features, Sukuna would guess your husband had no knowledge about your history together at all.

But then it disappeared, and he was already accepting it. Looking at him with new respect.

“You should join us for meals more often then,” he easily said.

“M’hungry,” your child whined, yanking on his robes, looking up at the only father she'd ever known.

He let go of you to scoop her up like it was nothing, laughing as he hoisted her on top of his shoulders as she squealed.

“You just want something sweet,” he teased her, unfazed by her pulling and playing with her hair as you smiled at the little family you made.

The one that was supposed to be Sukuna’s.

Before he screwed everything up.

“What about you?” Choso asked you, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

“We ate two hours ago,” you reminded him, rolling your eyes as you brushed your fingers against his hand.

“You need nourishment,” he firmly spoke, not hiding his glance down to your stomach. Sukuna felt a particularly uncomfortable shift in his own, rage prickling as he pieced together the obvious clues. You were pregnant. With a baby that had absolutely nothing to do with him this time. “What about-”

“I just want to say goodbye to Sukuna first,” you promised, ready to leave him in the past this time.

“Okay,” your husband agreed, as if Sukuna wasn’t even a threat. Not sparing him a single consideration, simply that confident in your marriage. Trusting your judgement without worry. “We’ll wait for you outside.”

Sukuna wanted to scream.

To take you and her with him even if it meant he’d be the one raising another man’s child. Watching him carry her out and listening to her giggle and call that bastard daddy while his blood silently boiled.

“It could’ve been us, huh?” You said once the door shut behind them, not even wistful.

No regret. No remorse.

And Sukuna knew that he had no reason to be angry about it either. Had no right to wish for you to want him instead.

“Yeah,” he admitted, swallowing his pride as he shrugged. Told himself that none of it mattered.

He didn’t need your love.

After a life of lying to himself that it was worthless, it wouldn’t do anything to long for it now.

Your eyes lingered on the doorway your husband just walked out of, adoration that was no longer reserved for him glimmering in them.

“Are you happy now?” You asked, tilting your pretty head to the side.

Sukuna wasn't selfless. But you made him wish he was.

“Yeah,” he lied, crossing all four of his arms across his chest and acutely aware that you were the only person who had truly never seen him differently because of them. “I am.”

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