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lombredanslaeu · 2 years ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

6K notes · View notes

lombredanslaeu · 3 years ago

Text

𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘪 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮

summary: you see him a handful of times down by the river, washing off the bloodstains from his clothing and hands. you wonder to yourself how he could look so human in such a monstrous act. once he sees you he can't get you rid of his mind.

paring: sukuna x f!reader

genre: angst, soft love, little bits of fluff, angst with no happy ending

warnings: blood, gruesome death, talks of sex and taking virginity, character death

word count: 7k+

jjk masterlist

---

"Do you intend on staring the entire time?"

The hair on your neck rose, your breath catching in your throat as you hear him call out.

Surely he couldn't have seen you. You had tried to hide decently well into the background of the forest.

"Your act of concealment is rather pitiful, you know." His voice disparaged you once more, and from the sliver of opening the bushes allowed you saw him look over his shoulder, staring directly at you as he raised an eyebrow.

"Come out, human." You, for the first time, hear the real command in his voice, the one that terrified the men in your village, the ones who came back from battle and laid awake at night with it echoing in the solitude of their minds.

You gave it a couple seconds, and when you saw him vanish from the spot he had been near the river bank you panicked, looking around everywhere to see where he had gone.

You felt a rush of air wisp behind you, and you whipped your head around to see a large hand circle around your throat, long, claw-like nails digging into your skin as he effortlessly raised you from the ground.

You felt the voice in your head mock you for your stupidity, the idea alone of spying on the curse everybody feared an idiotic idea. But you were curious, too curious for your own good, and the first time you saw him you were fascinated.

Here he seemed like the monster everybody made him out to be. Blood from his previous victims splattered across his face, red eyes boring into yours as he assessed the person in front of him, large muscles flexing as he turned you around, gawking at you like an animal in a cage.

But the first time you saw him, he drew you in, and perhaps that would be the sole reason for your demise. The sun shone shined splendidly that day, reflecting off the water beneath him, his skin shining bright as he delicately cleaned his dirtied clothes in peace.

You hadn't meant to run into him that day, but you couldn't rest seeing him act so human, so normally, after every rumor, you had heard.

You now wish you had listened to them.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" He cocked his head to the side, eyebrow perched as you meekly grabbed at his hand, begging him to loosen his grip.

His eyes trailed down to your gaping mouth, eyes widening with the lack of air, and his grip loosed, dropping you roughly to the ground, giving you a couple of seconds to failingly come up on your arms, coughing as you rubbed weakly at your neck, trying to ease to soreness away.

He dropped down to his knees, crouching down at your side as he waited for you to recover, in no rush as you hacked away.

"I asked you a question." He reminded you and you fearfully looked up, eyes filled with tears as you weakly nodded, your chapped lips trembling in dread.

"Is that a yes?" His lips upturned in a small and taunting smile, his sharpened teeth gleaming back at you as you gulped, clearing your throat as you tried your best to respond.

"Yes, yes," You looked at the grass beneath you, anything but the figure of death in front of you, “I have been here before, my lord."

He kept his eyes locked on yours, his look never shifting from one to the other, keeping natural as if to frighten you even more.

Would anybody care if you had been killed out in the woods today? Would anybody come looking if you went missing?

"Is it you who's been watching me these past weeks?" He asked, and even on the ground sitting in front of you he shadowed your crumpled form, and you wiped some of the slobber from your lips before you spoke again.

"I apologize, my lord." Your fingers shook far too much, could he tell? Could he see that your blood was freezing under your skin?

"May I ask what's intrigued you so much to return?" You feel this breath on your cheeks, his nose close to yours as he leaned in, the air in your lungs seizing as you held it all to yourself.

Your fingers itched to grab the small bundle you had brought with you, the one you had failed to give these past weeks.

He watched the movement, his eyes quickly darting over to the small package concealed in a piece of dirtied cloth.

"Is this yours?" He reached over and grabbed it, examining its shabby shape as you meekly nodded once more, your mouth too dry to give him a proper response.

He glanced back over to you, truly studying you. Your clothes were dirty, mud and dirt clinging to your skin, holes littering the soles of your shoes. Your hair was clumped together and nails were outgrown from their beds.

He had been familiarized with the nearby village, having ransacked it multiple times. He knew the women well, their appearances were far more important than anything else. If you were from there it was obvious you were one of their outcasts, if the skin clinging to your bones would say anything.

He kept an eye on you as you coughed again, blood specking the palm of your hand as you wiped it on your pants, embarrassed and more honestly terrified to look at him, opting to gape at the ground.

He turned the lump of fabric around in his hand, weighing it and sniffing it as if to sense what was inside. A foul smell flew under his nose, and he winced as he quickly went to open it, his inquisitiveness taking over.

The fabric was flimsy and wasn't tied hard enough, falling away as he peeled it back.

Small tomatoes and pieces of lettuce tumbled out, some parts of them molded as they fell to his feet.

"I apologize, my lord, they are not of the best quality." You explained and he scoffed, taking the small vegetables and squishing it between his fingers, turning back to you as he took you by the collar, lifting it up so that you would be face to face with him.

"Were those for me?" His head tilted again, a small pout overtaking his smile as he watched you struggle to come up with words to say.

"Have you been watching me these past few weeks just to give me rotten vegetables?"

He watched in clear amusement as you sniffled, your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, hands quivering as you kept them balled by your side.

"Did that really sound like a good idea to you?" His grip on your collar tightened, and you gasp as he lifted you once more, your feet dangling as you tried to get back down.

Sukuna looked at you, the tears welling in your eyes, the tomatoes, and lettuce as his feet looking back up at him as he strangled you, your fingers weakling attempting to grab at his clenching fists.

"I'm s-sorry," You choked out, "It's all I h-had." Some bloodied spit landed on his face and he grimaced, dropping you immediately to wipe it off.

You couldn't muster up a groan as you felt your ankle crack from the pressure, only having enough strength to try to crawl away.

This isn't how you wanted to die, not alone and at the hands of the curse of death himself. Not when you wanted to see the countryside, to sail in those things they called ships. Not on the ground of a forest, you stumbled upon one day, your kind heart killing you eventually.

And all Sukuna did was watch the pitiful scene, eyebrows drawing together as he saw your crumpled form sit at the stump of a tree, your ankle bent the wrong way, your eyes barely open as you went in and out of consciences.

Who were you? Surely not a girl of any importance. He would have already bedded you had you been one. You were poor, perhaps worse than that, yet you managed to bring him portions of your food.

Even in the coldest of winters, he had watched the village chief struggle to give up a third of his meals to honor him, yet an insignificant girl like you who obviously needed the wasted vegetables more than anything was offering it to him.

Should he kill you here? Make it painless? It seemed that your health was already declining, your bloody coughs enough proof for him. He'd be putting you out of your misery if he did it now.

But walking towards you, his nails turned into the claws he was so used to, kneeling down once more to your slumped form, he couldn't seem to do it.

You couldn't even lift your head to beg for your life, but you tried to bring up your fist that paled in size to his, curling it around one of his fingers as you tried to push him away.

And his nails were right there, right at the base of your throat, ready to slit, but he felt the little bit of heat as you sickly gripped him, the little tear droplets wetting his skin as he retracted his hand.

He stared at the top of your head, watching as your hand fell to your side, your body too weak to keep it up anymore.

And he grumbled to himself, saying things such that he wasn't fucking enough people and his mind was going crazy, cupping your knees as he lifted you gently up, supporting your head with the palm of his hand as he brought you back to the village.

He could have killed you even then as he was entering the gates, but you had held onto his shirt so tightly that he could barely lift his finger to do such a thing.

---

You awoke in one of the alleyways, your head lolling to the side as you groaned, your bleary vision not making out many things.

Dim candlelight shone from behind you, and turning around you saw the infamous infirmary of our village, and you stumbled trying to get up, a small and quiet cry falling as you put too much weight on your ankle, gripping the sides of the walls as you tried to steady yourself.

You could barely remember the previous events of the night, but you could barely think as you pushed your way through the door, the two healers jumping in surprise as fell to the floor.

It was a small shack, barely bigger than two rooms, but you had heard many stories of all the wonders that happened inside here. A small whicker of hope ignited in your chest. Maybe they could heal your ankle, maybe even you cough?

One of them tried to help you up but your body fell to the other side, and you heard muffled talking as the two of them spoke in hushed whispers on what to do.

"She's weak, too weak, we can't do much," You made out the woman say, and something else was added but you couldn't catch it. The other one was silent for a minute before he replied.

"Just throw her out. They die anyway. We need the space for the ones who matter." And though you wanted to open your mouth and cry out for their help, that you did matter, at least you did at one point.

But no matter how hard you wanted to, you couldn't do much as they harshly lifted you by the elbows dragging you out and throwing you right back where you were.

You thudded to the ground, your already broken ankle damaged more and you felt tears of pain spring in your eyes. It was night, maybe early in the morning, and the season of fall was coming closer and closer to your village, the crisp air biting at your barley-covered skin.

You shuddered, and it took some time for you to pull yourself up, using the wall as support once more as you traveled up ahead, knowing that your shabby home wouldn't be too far away.

It was a painful journey, but you eventually tumbled into the little shack you made a while back. Three pieces of wooden plans were balanced on each other, a scrawny blanket resembling rags rested on top to protect you from the elements.

You heaved a sigh as you relaxed on the dirt floor, leaning your back gently as you reached into your pocket to grab one of the tomatoes you had saved,

But it came back empty, and you remember that they were littered on that forest floor far from where you were.

And so with an empty stomach and burning bones, you tried your best to nod off to sleep.

---

Months passed by and Sukuna had almost forgotten about the girl in the woods, and he had no intention of remembering her again.

He kept up with his usual routine; taking home men and women from the villages he conquered easily, fighting the pesky sorcerers that came by once in a while, and retreated back to his room once he repeated those things over and over again.

It had been a ruling winter, and even for a curse like him he had to admit the cold was biting and cruel, and he laughed at the thought of how bad it must have been for those humans.

The people who lived and served at his temple all shivered as they made him his food and cleaned the floors, but even they were spared with the walls that surrounded him.

One night, he restlessly wandered around the halls, his bare feet padding on the marble floors as he looked around, glancing out of the windows as the moon stared back restlessly at him.

He went back to his room to retrieve his robs, shrugging them on as he grabbed his sword, saying nothing as he made his way out, hungry for another village to ransack and take for his name.

It didn't take him a while until he found one, but to much dismay, he remembered the oak gates that lead into it, and if he was being honest the people weren't the best when it came to a good fuck.

Though nonetheless, he strolled through, and some of the strangers who were bundled in their own winter clothing shrieked, ducking for cover as he made his way through.

The snow that fell from the sky did nothing to him, but it littered the ground in a stark white, and it crunched under his feet as he made his way to the brothel house he had been familiarized with so long ago.

As he entered the women who had been at the front jumped up, their faces pailing as he towered over them, looking around for a couple of people he intended to bring back to his temple.

He looked for another while, some faces familiar but others not so much as he pointed to them silently, and they knew what it meant as they stepped forward, not looking him in the eye as they feared it would get them killed.

The ordeal didn't last for long, and as he left, the chosen ones took it as a sign to trek behind him, worriedly looking at each other.

He made his way out, some spectators washing wordlessly from their windows as he passed by.

Sukuna paused when he heard hurried footsteps from behind him, and a small body thumped down in front of him, the person on their hands and knees as they shuddered from the winter winds.

"My lord! It is an honor having you here! Please," The village chief shakily looked up, wincing when he saw the curse looking down at him with interest, "I have even better women if you so desire! Men, if you want! These ones are cheap, nothing like the best we offer!" The man knew well that if Sukuna was displeased he could very well take that upon his village, head heard the rumors.

Sukuna looked at the ones he had picked, their fur coats clinging to their skins as they looked down, and then to the large hut, the chief lived at.

"Show them to me." He ordered, and the little man jumped up, bowing as he lead Sukuna to the destination, leaving the other women stranded as they went in search of others.

It was a quiet walk, and Sukuna preferred that over the mousey man speaking his head off.

They were nearly there when Sukuna saw a flash of color, something that had stuck in his mind no matter how hard he had tried to get rid of it.

He narrowed his eyes, seeing a slumped figure curled at the wall, their legs brought up to their chest as they slept.

He wished deep inside that the person was only asleep, and nothing worse.

He strayed away from the man as he went towards them, crouching down as he sat in front of the person, lifting their chin up with his forefinger as he came in view with a familiar face.

The girl in the woods, the one with the rotten vegetables.

Your cheeks had cuts on them, some fresh, some old. Your ankle, the one he remembered being badly broken, was still at an odd angle, though he recalled clearly that he had dropped you off at the infirmary to get it taken care of.

He ran his thumb across your skin, and to no surprise, you were freezing to the touch. Your shredded clothing doing barely anything to help you from the cold.

He raised two fingers to the pulse point at your neck, and somewhere in him eased when he found one.

The fingers that so weakly grabbed your knees were shaking fervently, and he took off his robe and he draped it across your shoulders.

"This one is barely alive, my lord, you can kill her if you wish." The man peeped from the corner and Sukuna had to control himself not to kill him in front of you.

"I promise that the ones I have to show you are much, much better than her!" He chuckled awkwardly as Sukuna sat still, his fingers gingerly gripping your chin as he tried to coax you to wake up.

"One of my men was supposed to get rid of her the past fortnight, it seems that he forgot." He muttered mostly to himself, his nose wrinkling from your stench.

"It's vermin like this that must be rid of!" He said fiercely, almost comically, and Sukuna's hold on your arm tightened as he gently tried to wake you up to no avail.

You were alive, he told himself, you had to be.

"My lord, it must not be comfortable for you in this cold, come and-" He could barely finish his sentence before Sukuna had slit his throat, his body dropping to the floor as he tried to stop the bleeding.

The ground beneath him stained red, but all Sukuna could care about was getting to you, a strange urge overtaking him as he spoke to you in a quiet tone.

"Can you open your eyes?" He whispered, a strange thing for him, but he hoped that it would get you to wake up.

You shivered quietly, your lips and teeth trembling against each other as you slowly shook your head, but that much let him sigh in relief, running his thumb across your cheek as he supported your head in his hand.

"Can you try?" His red eyes focused on the way your bruised eye twitched, but slowly you creaked open your other one, and his chest heaved a little triumphant laugh.

"There you go," He coaxed, going on his knees as he carefully picked you up, just as he had done that day, wrapping the robe around you tighter and you shifted into the warmth he offered.

You were so light he feared he'd break you, but you seemed appreciative of the help, curling in his arms as you tried to hide the skin left without any clothing covered with your hands.

Your bones poked out from underneath your skin, and for once in his lifetime Sukuna was terrified of the fact that they would breakthrough.

"Do you remember me?" He asked as he walked out of the village, ignoring the shocked gasps and the murmured voices as they saw you in his arms.

You barely nodded, but you gripped onto the fabric covering his torso, and his gaze softened, shocking him and perhaps the world around.

"What is your name?" He tried to keep his nails away from your fragile skin in fear of cutting you, and he had to lean his head down to hear your faint voice.

"Y-y," You gulped for some air, "Y/n." And Sukuna had never been happier to hear a sound, your voice easing the worries he had of you being dead, and he walked faster towards his temple.

"Do you prefer anything to eat?" He looked at your skeletal body and you tried to shrug, but it was too difficult so you just stayed limp.

"Soup," You attempted to say but you coughed, trying to cover your mouth with your fist, and Sukuna saw the specks of blood that sprayed your skin.

"Soup," he nodded to himself, "Is that all?" He had left the village now and was nearing his temple.

"Yes," You muttered softly, "My teeth," You paused to cough, "They do not work well anymore." Sukuna shifted his hold on your head, his hands tightening their grip on you as he went uphill.

Why did his chest hurt so much? Why did it feel like guilt was eating him alive? What were you doing to him?

When he entered through the double doors an influx of maids came rushing in, ready to prep the men and women he had selected only to be met with a frail girl curled into the massive curses chest.

They looked uncertainly at each other as he moved past them, turning the corner to move through the halls, stopping at his door as he pushed it open.

Inside he saw his two most trusted servants, and they rushed towards him, taking you from his arms as they brought you to the bath.

"Be careful with her," He warned, his tone wavering when he heard you whimper, "Or I'll kill you all." The two women fervently nodded, handling you with more care as they lead you to the separate rooms.

Sukuna watched as it all happened.

What was he doing?

---

Once you had been washed through and properly helped by one of his healers, they lead you to the dining hall, and you still had to blink and repeat to yourself what was happening to keep yourself from going insane.

They sat you in a chair, a random hand placing a steaming bowl in front of you as they left you to eat.

You quite frankly had no idea what happened in the past hour, but it had been a while since you had been in the comfort of a home with food in front of you, and so you put it past yourself as you began to bring a shaky hand to grasp the spoon.

Your arms were too weak from weeks of barely any use, and you had brought the spoon close to your mouth only to lose grasp of it and spill it on yourself.

You heard some noise around you, and you slowly glanced around you, the women who helped clean you covering their mouths with their hands as their shoulders shook, soft giggles spilling from their lips as they watched you attempt to eat the soup.

Embarrassment took over your senses, but you found a napkin near your left and patted your robes, trying to get the stains off.

Going to grab the spoon again, you gave yourself a couple of seconds to flex your hand before you brought it up to your lips. You had put it in but the heat of it you were unprepared for, and you spit it out quickly from your mouth before it burnt the rest of your tongue.

The snickering from around you only got louder, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying in humiliation.

You should have blown on it, you told yourself, but it had been so long since you had actually had something warmed up that it must have slipped your mind.

You dabbed the table with the napkin to clean up some of the stains, and the silence around you should have told you that there was a change in atmosphere, but you only realized that when you felt a looming figure behind you.

"Is everything alright?"

His voice you remembered well. It was deep, ominous, but it also calmed you down. For it had been he who saved you from the bitter cold and nobody else.

You quickly dropped to your knees, albeit, slowly from how undernourished you were, kissing his feet as you kept your face hidden.

"My lord," Your hands shook, "Thank you, thank you, I cannot express my gratitude. I will do anything you ask, I am in your debt forever. My lord..." You rambled on but stopped when you felt a strong force tugging you up by the arm.

"Enough of this.” He clicked his tongue as he pushed you back in the chair, and you huffed out a cough when he pulled out the chair diagonal from you, his fingers webbed with each other as he stared at you.

"Aren't you going to eat?" He asked, his eyebrow cocked upwards and you gave him a swift nod, your shaky hands back at trying to grab the spoon, but from the fear of being watched by him, it slipped out of your hold once more and fell in the soup, splattering even more across your clothing.

The soft laughter from the women could be heard, and you looked at them from the corner of your eyes, chest sinking with onslaught discomfiture as the most powerful curse in creation watched you struggle to pick up a spoon.

"I apologize, my lord.” Your boney fingers went to clutch it again, and you opted to just close your fist around it as you dipped it in, bringing your face close to it as you gently blew on the steam, bringing it to your mouth as you let it slip down your throat.

It had been so, so long since you had eaten something like this. Tears sprung in your eyes and you had no power over them as you quickly shoveled more into your mouth, not caring anymore how hot it was for your stomach kept begging for it.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna looked back from you to the two giggling maids, aggravation creeping in on him as he watched them laugh at you hungrily eating your meal.

"....like a wild animal." One of the girls whispered to the other and they snickered, having to seal their mouths shut when they caught Sukuna's eye.

You couldn't listen to them anymore through your rumbling stomach, but you stopped every once and while to grab the piece of bread laid out to your side, biting into it quickly as you chewed.

You had forgotten about your loose tooth, and as you chewed you heard a crack and before you knew it the small tooth tumbled out of your mouth and onto the table.

You quickly grabbed the napkin, holding it up to your gums to stop the onslaught of bleeding, but from the gasp of disgust to the clacking of your spoon against the oak table distracted you and the bloody napkin fell from your hand.

You quickly stood up, trying to find another napkin, but there was nothing, so you just cupped your hand over your mouth as you looked around for any help.

He was going to kill you here, you told yourself as you watched Sukuna stand up from his chair, a pall cast over his face as he made his way to you, he's disgusted by me.

His hand was nearing your body and you wrung your eyes shut, ready for his talons to slash through your skin, but you only felt calloused fingers grips your shoulder, leading you out of the room as he took you somewhere else.

He silently took you into another room, shutting the door quickly behind him as he ordered the servants inside to fetch him a pitcher of water and gauze.

Your hand never left your mouth, even as the blood poured out of it in fear of what he would do, but the kindness in his hold on your elbow startled you.

The servants cast each other looks as they brought him the things he asked for, and they watched observantly from the doorway as he ordered them out.

He dunks the gauze strips in the water, writing it back in the pitcher as he brought it to your face.

You still kept your hand there, but he gently grasped it, bringing it away from your face as he placed the gauze where your tooth used to be.

He could tell that you were missing other ones, and he noted to himself to only serve you softer food from now on.

Your hand laid in your lap, and you just shut your eyes as you let the curse do whatever he wanted, his fingers holding your mouth open as he gingerly dabbed the wound to stop the bleeding.

"Does it hurt badly?" He asked when he finished, the gauzes never coming back bloody as he poured you a cup of water, observing you intently as you shook your head.

"No, my lord, I am okay. I apologize for the inconvenience. I did not mean for it to happen."

"Are any of your other teeth lose?"He asked and you nodded slowly, not opening your mouth despite the fact that he had already seen the ones you lost.

"How many?" He had never asked so many questions in the span of one night, but Sukuna needed to know. You should have been healed by his healer.

You counted in your head, running your tongue around and noting the ones that were about to fall, and kept your head down as you spoke.

"Three more, my lord." In addition to ones already gone that would make an eventual eight.

He shut his eyes thinking. He didn't say anything for a while, and you looked around the four walls as he thought silently to himself.

There was a bed in the corner, and it had been the first time in years you had seen one. It seemed benign; as if you'd float if you were to sleep on it.

"I'll have the healer look at you once again tomorrow.” He concluded and all you could do was silently agree, not knowing what else to do.

He noticed your wandering eyes, how they seemed stuck on the object being him, and he glanced back at the small servants' bed.

"Are you tired? Do you want to sleep?" Oh, how you longed to sleep. You had been sleeping all these past few weeks, but it wasn't really sleeping. You were getting closer and closer to death, but all you could do was shut your eyes and hope that it came peacefully.

"It's no worries, my lord, I can sleep right where I am," You assured him, patting the chair as you tried to relax into it but his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion at your worries.

"Nonsense. Come with me," He walked towards the door, and your eyes shot open, not having enough time to get out and follow him as he paced much more quickly than you did.

He lead you through a maze of halls, and it wasn't long before you stopped in front of another door, much similar to the others.

He opened it and you had to hold your chest at the view that lay before you.

A massive bed, much bigger than your body sat in the middle. It was so big that you felt your inner child scream in delight at the sight. Was this even possible? It was unfair to have such a bed so big when you would only take up a fourth of it.

"You sleep here. Any issues and you tell one of the maids, understood?"

You quickly nodded, finger itching to feel the blanket, something you had lost the feeling of after a while.

"Yes, my lord. I understand."

And Sukuna stuttered to speak. He never did before. But how could he not when under the look of your kind eyes, the toothy smile that made its way across your beautiful face that could light up galaxies to come?

How could he not when his heart hammered so tightly in the limited space of his ribcage?

---

Everybody would raise their silent questions, but they would be answered when the curse made his way back home, covered in blood and mud, back to your room, knocking before he entered.

"What are you doing?" He'd ask one day, watching you in the corner of the room, using a small knife to nick away at a block of wood.

You looked up, a small smile making its way on your face, the same one that made him forget who he was before you answered him back.

"I'm making sculptures, see," You turned your chair around so that your table came more in view.

All along the top, he saw little things, a wooden flower, a little horse. Each was delicately made, and seeing how you grinned at them he could only bet that you had made them.

"What for?" He walked over to you, examining the little pieces before he placed them back down.

"The maids, the servants. They have helped me so much, that I wanted to give them something back." You explained, and Sukuna felt him smile at your words.

"Of course, I'll make you one once these are all done with," You quickly added, worried it would have offended him due to his extended hospitality.

He glanced at the little bird you had made, turning it around in his hand as he placed it in his pocket, looking at you for permission even though you wouldn't have said anything to disagree.

"I can make a bigger one if you want, my lord. I can make a bear, or an owl, that one has a small dent in it." You brought out another slab of wood, ready to carve whatever he requested, but he just shrugged.

"This one will do."

"Oh, well, alright, if you say so," You chewed on your bottom lip, worried that it would break easily.

He gripped your chin in his fingers as he lifted your face up to his, his thumb near your cheeks as his breath fanned over your skin.

"My lord?"

Your breathing stopped, your eyes staring back at his. He was beautiful, you thought to yourself. How could he not be? His red eyes were so enticing, the tattoos that littered his skin adding to his persona.

"Thank you," He breathed out, and you tilted your head to the side, a questioning smile growing on your lips.

"For what, my lord? The statue was small, I can do much better, I promise-" He shook his head, falling down on his knees so that he wouldn't tower so much over you.

"For the food, you had brought me that one day. I was unaware. Thank you." You tried to think back on what he was referring to, and your mind brought you back to the tomatoes and lettuce you had laid out for him, and you laughed gently at it.

"They were rotten, it was barely anything." You leaned your face deeper in his hold, not knowing what you were doing but enjoying the softness his palm felt on your skin.

"I still appreciate it, Y/n, no matter what condition it was. To think I almost," He choked at the thought, your face flashing in his mind and he dropped his hand, tears pricking at his eyes.

"Of course, Sukuna, anything for you."

And this time you held his giant hand in yours, closing both hands around one as you smiled gently at him, sitting down so that he wouldn't feel alone.

"Thank you for saving me, that night, I would have died by morning if not for you." Sukuna's grip tightened, protectiveness taking over at the thought of that.

"Anything for you, Y/n, anything for you." He brought your palm to your lips as he pressed a delicate kiss to it, and your smile grew.

"I," He paused, letting you go as he took a step back, "Never mind. I'll come back soon after this mission. Stay safe, alright?"

And he left without saying anything else, leaving you alone with your running mind as he turned walked down the hall, the sword growing heavy in his hand with the added thought of having something to return to.

---

You didn't know much when it came to Sukuna, nor the kindness he showed you.

It was strange, out of ordinary, but you wouldn't complain about it when it very well saved your life.

You heard the murmurs of the people around you whenever you walked through the temple, the gazes of pity and jealousy they honed when you ate dinner with him.

You could tell that you weren't wanted, but you tried very hard to show that you weren't totally useless.

Some days you would help clean the floors and rooms, and others you'd help them cook the flood or clean the alter. They never spoke t you, only giving you glances filled with unreadable expressions, but they were never opposed to giving you most of their load.

You knew what they were doing, but you never voiced it. You were lucky to be alive, and you would do anything to pay them back.

"He doesn't love you, you know." One of the maids, Hatsu, you had come to learn, told you.

You dropped the pants you had been folding in surprise and peeked up.

"I'm sorry?" Her teeth showed when she gave you a small smile, shock overtaking her expression as she feigned worry.

"He's done this with many women, Y/n, you're not the first. You certainly won't be the last, either." She added, mumbling to herself, and your cheeks heated, shaking your head in disagreement.

"Oh my, he doesn't! He is just being..." You couldn't finish that sentence for you knew it would travel around if the people heard you called the cursed kind.

"Caring? Of course, he is, Y/n, how else would he bed a virgin such as yourself. He loves them more than anything. He wants his legacy to live on forever." She further explained and you felt your throat closing up the more she spoke.

"Kame, aren't I right?" She called her friend over, smiling viciously over your crestfallen face.

"That's how he is, Y/n. Naive girls, innocent ones, ones who have never been touched before. You're probably the best he's seen. What was it, the first thing you did when you saw him, cry?" Kame and Hatsu shared a grin, "No wonder he's so enthralled by you."

"H-he's never, all he's been is-"

"Devoted? Compassionate? What else would he be? Honestly, Y/n, don't you ever use that head of yours?" She flicked your forehead roughly and Kame snickered as your lips trembled.

"He kills them all afterward, too," Hastu told you, "He doesn't like them once they're ruined."

"I," you stood up shakily, chest heaving as you tried making your way out of the cleaning room, "I have to leave. Please excuse me,"

And all you could do was run out, out towards your room, lungs heavy, heart bleeding as you opened the door as quickly as you could have.

You didn't know what to do. You knew it was too good. He was too kind, too thoughtful. He was going to fuck you and then kill you, of course, he would. What use did he have with someone of your sorts, you had nothing to offer him.

He would be returning any day now, and you had to push out his kind words from your mind as you began to pack a bag, shoveling the small amount of clothing you owned, some apples you kept by your tableside to snack on.

You were in a rush as you scribbled a note to the servants, heart hammering away in fear as you flew just as quickly out the door, still putting your shoes on as you ran out the door of the temple, the mids all staring in happiness as you made your way down the hill, your running figure leaving view as you made your way into the thickness of the forest.

"Finally," Kame bumped her shoulder into Hatsu's as she made her way back in, "I was getting tired of taking care of his bitch."

---

Sukuna returned only a handful of days later, shoulder heavy with a fight, chest bruised and hands aching, but as he neared his temple his mood lightened, eyes crinkling around the corner as he returned with the thought of you in his mind.

Entering his home he was greeted with silence and the occasional stare of the maid. He picked up on their chatters but paid it no mind as he made his way quickly to the familiar door.

He had to suppress the growing smile on his face as he dug out the flowers from the pocket of his robes. They had been smashed a little on his journey back, but they were still intact nonetheless.

He knocked once, waiting to hear the voice he had been longing to hear for the past couple of weeks.

When he got no reply, he knocked once more.

"Y/n," He cleared his throat, "I am back. If you may, I have something for you."

He waited and still got no response.

Perhaps you were asleep, he thought to himself.

"I will open the door now. I have to get some things taken care of quickly, I just need to give you..." And once the door swung open he was greeted to a grizzly sight.

Your table was messy, the cabinet shelves were outdrawn, your bed was not made. He knew you were keen on riding things up, and so this was out of the ordinary. Terrifyingly so.

He found a small note on your table, but he couldn't read any of it through his blurry mind, running out as he called your name hopelessly.

"Y/n? Y/n!" He ran out, calling your name, looking wildly around as he ran down the hall, looking in every room, every corner his temple offered, but you were nowhere to be found.

"My lord," He heard one of the girls call out and he stopped, crazily looking at her through his crazed eyes and she took a step back.

"Y/n is gone, we've been looking for her this past day, we can't-"

"Why was I not told?"

His voice was so calm, so dreadfully calm that Kame took another step back.

"Hm?" He walked towards her, not caring about her please as rage overtook him, her heart coming clean out as he dropped her body like a sack on the floor, continuing his search for you as he made his way out.

For hours he ran through the forest, seeing little footprints that resembled yours but found you to no avail.

At dawn, he sank to his knees, the trees surrounding him chanting at him for his loss, for his failure, for the fact that he could only be a curse and capable of nothing else except killing.

How could he love? He was no man. He was Ryomen Sukuna, and that's all he would be known for. But he wanted you, your loving heart, your caring smile, the way you lit up his world in ways he never imagined.

And for the first time in his life, he felt tears fall from his eyes, the salty feeling biting at his cheeks as he kept looking for you through his blurred vision.

He found you once, didn't he? He'd just have to find you once more.

---

He made his way through an opening and saw the oak gates that lead to your village.

It had been days since he last went looking for you, and he was sure that this would be the place you could be. It had to be. he didn't know what to do if you weren't here.

As usual, he heard the screams of people when they saw the four-armed monster, but he ran everywhere he thought you would be, your old three wood house ruined from the last time he saw it.

And as he looked around more he stumbled into the town square, and in the middle, he saw the hanging post, people backing into their homes as he continued his search.

Sukuna was more and more lost as he looked around, ready to give up and go back in the forest when he saw a familiar flash of color.

Right there, in the middle of everybody, was you.

Your head hung down, a noose hanging from around your neck as you dangled in the air.

Time stopped as he made his way towards your body, heart stopping when he got to you.

For once, you were head to head with him without trying, but he didn't know what to do as he hung desperately to your chest, his arms encircling your waist as he held you tightly to him.

"Oh, Y/n," he muttered into your skin, your cold skin freezing his, "Oh, my love, what have they done?"

He read the sign to the side: Traitors and Killers, and he looked back at you. You were none of those things. You had never killed, and all you asked for in return was life.

Was that really a traitorous thing to ask for?

He took you down from the stand, carrying your body out of your village as he took you to the woods.

He stopped at the river, the same place he saw you for the first time, and began digging your grave.

There were many things he wish he had done differently. He wished he could have told you that he would have burnt the world down for you if you asked, that you held his heart in your hands and he had no intention of asking for it back.

But he couldn't and so all he could do was place little flowers around the soil in which you lied under.

When all you were was freshly dug dirt, he turned his back and made his way back to the village.

The sun shone the day he found you died, and the moon shone even brighter when he killed them all.

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