Will Be Writing A Full Fic For This By Next Week! :)

Will be writing a full fic for this by next week! :)

Imagine being Gojo's next door neighbor, like I think we can all agree the guy is a freak. Probably a bit insane at times.

Imagine just being the first person that actually showed him an ounce of kindness, could be a nonsorcerer (imo he would live far away from campus preferably as a way to get away from clan bullshit) living in the same complex as him. Nothing too fancy. And he's just staring at the community laundry room (firm believer this man is awful at chores) unsure what to do as he holds his dirty laundry basket.

You gently walked him through the steps and even let him use your detergent! How sweet of you!

But don't you know? If you feed a stray, they'll always follow.

So that's how you end up with this blue-eyed (beautiful) freak always asking you for help.

Instead of making one bento for work in the morning? Now you're making two, don't forget he likes his veggies cut up into shapes. Oh? He accidentally bought too much mochi :(? Oh no, looks like he's at your apartment tonight sharing with you.

How'd he get fresh mochi from Kyoto? He'd just laugh and says he travels a lot for work. Must be some sort of business man was your first thought. Though he didn't look the part, and idol? Yakuza? You'll ask later!

You definitely don't know how rich he is, he's tried explaining to you (multiple times) that he doesn't need to use coupons for take out meals or when you go grocery shopping together. When he pays for things? He doesn't expect you to venmo him half, he thought you'd take advantage of it like everyone else.

So, of course he falls first! You're just so kind to him!

As a thank you, the company you work for got bought out by some rich family, The Gojo Family, you honestly just thought it was a strange coincidence. So, that manager that always gave you a hard time? Yeah, he lost his job and you finally got that promotion that you've been working towards for years!

That's not all though.

You've noticed that he always seems to know when you're home? Strange? Also strange that a new app appeared on your phone, must be a software update.

Or perhaps noticing that some of your items shifted? He does like to touch your stuff, he's definitely not putting cameras around :)

Because you're a nonsorcerer! Satoru feels the need to have to look out for such a thing like you. After all, Suguru always told him to protect the weak right?

****

Little blurb because I'm bored at work! This man continues to live in my noggin rent free.

Home

Description: SatoSugu x Reader Fluff, there's not enough out there! I was just kind of observing the sunrise this morning on run and this was brain rotting my noggin since this morning.

WC: 800 (short little blurb)

TW: Angst if you squint?

There's something about slow, cozy Sunday mornings that settled something deep inside Satoru, a quiet warmth that even his boundless energy couldn’t disturb. The soft hum of life happening around him filled the apartment, grounding him in a peace he hadn’t known he needed.

The comforting scent of cinnamon and pumpkin danced in the air, the sweet smell of bear-shaped cookies baking in the oven blending with the slight chill of autumn in Tokyo. Sunlight crept through the windows, bathing the room in a golden hue, the light catching on the glossy hardwood floors and making everything feel softer like time had slowed down to match the rhythm of this domestic, lazy morning.

From his spot on the couch, where both you and Suguru believed he was napping, Satoru peeked over the cushions. His heart warmed at the sight of the two of you going about your routines, so ordinary and yet so precious. The soft rhythm of your knife against the cutting board as you prepped vegetables for the bento boxes filled the room. Was it katsu today, with a crisp side salad? It didn’t matter. Everything you made had a warmth and care that turned it into the best meal of his life. A far cry from the rushed nights when he used to dash down to Family Mart for a quick bite—alone.

Suguru sat at the kitchen bar, his brow furrowed in concentration as he graded the first years' mission logs, occasionally muttering something under his breath about how terrible some of them were. Yet despite his focus, Suguru would look up to chat with you, his voice soft and familiar, laced with the kind of affection that had been reserved for both you and Satoru. And you—your movements were a dance as you moved around the kitchen, your feet bouncing lightly with every step, preparing everything for the day. He couldn't ask for more in this little life.

Satoru's gaze moved to Suguru’s hand as he reached out to take the spoon you offered, that familiar smile already tugging at the corner of Suguru’s lips. It was a small, intimate exchange, one that Satoru had seen countless times but never tired of. The way Suguru’s violet eyes softened as he tasted the katsu sauce you’d just made, the satisfied groan escaping his lips, his wedding band glinting in the sunlight—it was a moment so filled with warmth that it was hard for Satoru to look away.

“It keeps getting more and more amazing every time,” Suguru said softly, his voice velvety smooth, dripping with love as he met your gaze. There was a quiet reverence in the way he spoke to you, as though he were marveling at something sacred. And you—you giggled in response, that lovely blush painting your cheeks, your happiness almost tangible in the way you beamed at him.

Satoru couldn’t resist any longer. He pushed himself off the couch, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he approached. “Hey, hey! Don’t hog all the good stuff,” he teased, opening his mouth wide, his expectant gaze fixed on you. Those bright blue eyes of his glittering with amusement. The laughter that followed as you fed him a spoonful of sauce was light, airy, like the sweetest melody.

As the rich flavor of the sauce hit his tongue, Satoru's eyes widened with exaggerated delight. “This is the best thing in the world!” he chimed with a teasing grin.

Before you could react, Satoru swept you up in his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as your toes barely grazed the floor. The room filled with your laughter as he peppered your face with light kisses, his affection overflowing in small bursts of joy. You never pushed him away. You never pushed either of them away. Instead, you embraced their love, their mess, their flaws and hardships—all of it. You embraced them completely, wholeheartedly, just as you always had.

Because that was who you were—a warm, ray of light, a gift that neither of them felt they deserved but both of them cherished more than anything.

Satoru pressed his face into the crook of your neck for a moment, his voice softening as the weight of everything sank in. This—the three of you, together in this, sunlit kitchen—was all he had ever wanted. No amount of power, no grand estates or gardens of the Gojo clan could compare to this. Home wasn’t a place. It wasn’t the apartment, or the food, or even the lazy Sunday morning routines.

Home was the way you and Suguru looked at him, with warmth, with love, with acceptance. It was the way you and Suguru treated him—like he was more than just Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer. You looked at him with something he couldn’t find anywhere else, something that made this place feel less like a temporary refuge and more like… home.

Thinking about that one snippet in the JJK Manga where it says that Haibara had a younger sister who could see curses just he wouldn't allow her to go to jujutsu tech 💗.

How sweet, how wholesome.

Yet, Haibara still brought his friends around, including his Senpai. Geto Suguru.

You gained a crush on your brother's senpai, who wasn't as outspoken like the other one, Gojo Satoru.

Geto was always so kind, so calm natured. The two of you only being two years apart. The way he would offer to walk you home from school, saying your brother asked him to (he didn't 💗). The way you both would end home alone, his lips clashing onto yours. His words are coming out soft despite your words of hesitation, "Don't worry, sugar, your brother looks up to me...he'd want us to be together" before his kisses are making your mind fuzzy. The taste of smoke on his breath, the way his tongue claimed your mouth. The way his hands are all over your body, hiking up your school skirt as he spreads your legs. Hushing your pleas of protest that quickly turned into soft moans and whimpers.

You were always such a good girl listening to him, he didn't even have to summon any curses. How sweet of you to cooperate

Then, after Haibara's death. That's all it took for Suguru to sweep on it, murmuring the sweetest of words.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. It's what a senpai is for, right?" He spoke so softly as he hugged you close. You couldn't even hear the smile behind his voice.

*****

Another little blurb that has been living in my mind rent-free after I read that little snippet. I don't think I'll write a full fic for it since we barely know anything about Haibara.

Forged in Fire: A New World

A/n: I know I had a similar series to this called Between Worlds, lately I just haven’t felt like writing it. UNTIL I GOT THIS WONDERFUL, SPLENDID idea. Hope you all like it, it’s a different kind of start which I kind of enjoy better? Makes the plot flow nicer than having to create a bunch of OC characters to get the plot going. Let me know what you think. 

Summary: You wake up in a strange place :) Soon to be an Azriel x Reader fic.

Part Two

Warnings: Mentions of Illness, Mentions of abuse, Mentions of blood. WC: 3.1k

The song of birds chirping outside, the rustling of leaves, and the sound of hushed footsteps around the room awoke you.

With a groan, your bleary eyes fluttered open, greeted by a room unfamiliar. Rubbing your eyes to push past the blurriness, you wondered why your head ached so much. You sat up, taking in the room. The giant chandelier was the kicker—you could never in your lifetime own one of those. Your eyes searched the room for anything familiar, anxiety creeping in your stomach.. A maid kept saying your name, but you ignored her. Your gaze constantly shifted around the room, the green walls were lined at the top with wallpaper depicting foxes playing in the tall grass. The russet brown canopy rested above a bed larger than any you’d ever owned, with silk sheets and a velvet comforter. There was a roaring fireplace in your bedroom. 

You weren’t home, in your crappy apartment, anymore.

A maid approached, her brown hair and pale skin accentuated by concerned green eyes. “Miss Y/n? Are you feeling alright?” Her voice was just a whisper, sounding like the autumn wind, and she smelled like spices. Normal people don’t smell like warm ginger and clove. 

You climbed out of bed in a sprint. Not caring about the fancy sheets that just fell onto the floor.

Where the hell were you? 

You sprinted down halls lined with various fall colors and paintings of people with red hair and golden eyes. People gawked as you ran by, soldiers whispering to each other as they glanced at you. Perhaps it was because you were wearing nothing but pantaloons and a white corset top. You didn’t care; you just wanted to leave. You wanted to be back in your crappy apartment. 

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, sounding like a war drum, until two strong arms caught you and a man that stood a foot taller than you grabbed your sides.

“Y/n, what are you doing out of bed?” His amber eyes seemed to pierce into you, his face a mix of concern and worry as his gaze constantly shifted from the people walking about the halls back to you. Your heart was pounding, and you were panting from running. Why the hell were these hallways so long? You just stared at him, his honeyed voice repeatedly asking, "What’s going on?”

You were about to respond when a sharp, metallic taste filled your mouth. Your eyes widened in panic as you choked, coughing violently. Your hand flew to your lips, and when you pulled it away, it was smeared with blood. 

Normal people don’t cough up blood when they run, do they?

The male's eyes widened in horror as he saw your blood-stained lips and crimson-covered palm. "Shit," he whispered, his voice trembling with urgency. Without a second thought, he scooped you into his arms, his grip tight and desperate.

Fear surged through you as you clung to him, your vision blurring. The strong, steady beat of his heart against your cheek was the only thing grounding you as everything else started to fade. The world spun around you, colors and shapes blending into a dizzying swirl.

"Hold on," he urged, his voice a strained whisper, filled with a mix of fear and determination. You could hear the pounding of footsteps and the frantic murmur of voices as he carried you through the endless hallways.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was his face, etched with worry, his amber eyes filled with a desperate plea for you to hold on. You tried to focus on his voice, his warmth, but the world spun faster and faster until it all faded to black.

******

You awoke again in the same bed. You were definitely not in Los Angeles anymore, you murmured to yourself. When you tried to sit up, a loud, “Don’t,” caught your attention. The male who had carried you was there, now without his fancy silk-lined coat. His hair was tousled a bit too much as he sat in a chair across the room, drinking a glass of whiskey. 

You stared back at him as you hesitated, then eased back into the bed, earning a hum of approval from him as he began to walk over.

“Why were you running around like a heathen?” he sneered, his voice tinged with anger, yet his face was full of concern. “What if Mother or Father saw you? Hm?” He drawled as he walked over to the side of the bed, taking a spot near your legs. “You don’t wake up for three weeks and now you’re running a dead sprint?” His laugh was dark and breathless, laden with worry. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands clenched the edge of the bed. It was as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check, to mask the fear that lurked beneath his harsh words. 

“I... I didn’t know where I was,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I was scared.”

His expression softened slightly, the anger fading into something more like resignation. “You should have stayed in bed,” he said quietly, his tone less harsh now. “You’re not well, Y/n. You need to rest.”

The memory of coughing up blood flashed in your mind, and a shiver ran through you. “Why did I... why did that happen?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice. That had never happened back home. Why now? Why in this place?

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled red hair. “You’re sick, Y/n, you’ve always been sick. You have a weak heart. Can you… not remember?” His last statement seemed like it was meant more for himself than for you. 

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the worry was plain to see. “Just promise me you’ll stay put,” he said, his voice softening further. “I can’t lose you again.”

You hesitated before nodding. “Can… can I ask you a question?” you muttered under your breath. Would he think you were crazy? The man looked awfully pissed off given the circumstances, yet you felt a deep connection with him.

He looked at you, his brows furrowing, but he nodded. You continued, “Who are you? Or rather, where am I?” His eyes softened into what looked like a pang of sadness.

“So you really do have memory loss…” he whispered to himself. “My name is Eris. I am your eldest brother.” His voice quivered, and you could see the pain etched into his features. “We are in our home in the Autumn Court. You remember the Forest House, don’t you?” he whispered.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the intricate designs embedded into the bedding. The Autumn Court? The Forest House? Like from that one hit series, SJM put out. You’d read the books—for crying out loud, who hadn’t? This had to be a terrible dream. Perhaps you were working too late last night. You shouldn’t have eaten that Chinese food you left in the fridge for too long. You looked up to find those russet-colored eyes piercing you, full of worry and concern.

“You don’t know who any of us are, do you?” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “The healers said your condition got worse, that we shouldn’t have brought you with us during the war. The environment would be too much for your heart.” He crept closer, his palm landing gently on your cheek. “Sister, please, I need… I need you to remember me. Okay? Please, try your best. I need you to remember the good within me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, your own. His words resonated deeply within you, pushing aside your other thoughts of home. There was something achingly familiar about his touch, his voice.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll try to remember.”

Eris’s eyes softened even more, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Thank you,” he murmured. “That’s all I ask. Now, I am reluctant to leave you, but I have a meeting in Hewn City.”

With both his hands, he cupped your cheeks, his touch gentle yet urgent. “I’m going to give us a better life.”

The way his eyes settled on you with concern, you could tell he didn’t want to leave you here. Given all the context, you had been asleep for three weeks, of course he wouldn’t want to leave. Eris moved away from you, grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand and bring it to your lips. You drank the water, but you could sense something else within it. Within moments you passed out yet again. 

That jerk, how dare he drug you to sleep. 

******

Eris entered Hewn City a few hours later, his steps heavy with responsibility. As he navigated the bustling streets, his mind raced with thoughts of the meeting ahead. This alliance was crucial, not only for the prosperity of the Autumn Court but also for the future of his family.

Finally arriving at the grand estate, Eris made his way through the ornate corridors until he reached the study, where he found Keir engrossed in paperwork.

“You got me that meeting with your high lord, right?” Eris drawled as he lazily collapsed into the armchair. Today was going to be a long day, he thought. First, his sister had woken up three weeks after passing out due to the cold. Beron, his father, suggested—or rather, forced—all of the children to go to the war camp, to prove a united force. Within days, your condition worsened, and you were bedridden. Eris would never forget that, the way his father would have just let you die there. You were a year younger than Lucien, at least you were Beron’s actual child. He should at least treat you as such. 

Of course, Mother cared about you; she had always wanted a daughter. A sickly one? Not so much. Beron always blamed her for how sick you were, claiming it was because she was ‘tainted’ from another High Lord. It only made the abuse worse on the Lady of Autumn.

“They should be here within the hour,” Keir grumbled, pulling Eris from his thoughts. Eris needed this alliance to work, not just so he could be High Lord, but so he could give all of his siblings a better life. Give himself a better life.

Eris sipped on the whiskey in his hand, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down his throat. He despised a lot of things: the biting cold that seemed to seep into his bones, Keir and his pathetic city that revolved around torture and sexist ideals, and above all, his father—enough to make him contemplate murder.

As he sat in the study, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, Eris couldn't help but feel a simmering anger deep within him. The whiskey provided a temporary reprieve, numbing the edge of his rage, but it was always there, lurking beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt.

He took another sip, the bitterness of the alcohol mingling with the bitterness of his thoughts. With each swallow, he felt a flicker of defiance, a silent vow to defy the oppressive forces that sought to control him and his family.

Eris may have hated many things, but he refused to let that hatred consume him. Instead, he channeled it into determination, a determination to carve out a better future for himself and those he cared about, no matter the cost.

Within the hour, the Inner Circle arrived, though not in its entirety. Eris felt a flicker of relief that Mor was absent; her presence would only complicate matters further. He watched as they took their seats at the table, Feyre’s gaze piercing him with undisguised disgust, joined by similar expressions from Cassian and Azriel. It was natural—they all hated him. But Eris reassured himself that their opinions didn’t matter. All he needed was a powerful alliance.

As the meeting began, Eris steeled himself, his mind focused on the task at hand. He would do whatever it took to secure the support of the Night Court, even if it meant enduring their scorn and disdain. In the end, the only thing that mattered was achieving his goals and ensuring the survival of his family.

“What do you want, Eris?” Rhysand drawled with a look of boredom, his tone laced with skepticism. With a wave of his hand, wine glasses appeared in front of everyone on the table.

Eris took a moment to compose himself, hiding any hint of desperation that threatened to surface. “I need an alliance,” he began, his voice steady and controlled. “I plan on taking the throne soon. And I have a humble request of sorts.”

Rhysand brought the glass of wine to his lips, his violet eyes locked onto Eris’s russet ones without wavering. “My mother could handle herself in the attack, my sister, however—” he paused, his voice cool and measured, “I want protection over her.”

Feyre’s expression, initially one of disgust, morphed into confusion as she glanced at Rhysand, who didn’t return her gaze but instead settled a comforting hand on top of hers.

“I was unaware you had a sister, Eris,” Rhysand remarked, swirling the wine in his glass as he continued to observe Eris with an unreadable expression.

“She’s sick, a weak heart of sorts,” Eris continued, his tone softening slightly as he spoke of his sister. “Along with the resources to take down my father, I would want her protected. Perhaps to stay in the Night Court,” he suggested, his voice carefully measured.

Eris knew he was treading on thin ice, but the prospect of securing protection for his sister was worth the risk. He hoped that by appealing to their sense of compassion and strategic advantage, he could convince the Inner Circle to agree to his request.

Feyre was the first to speak, her tone cautious as she addressed Eris. “You want her protected here? I’m assuming away from Hewn City,” she observed, her gaze shifting briefly to Keir, who remained surprisingly silent during the meeting, apparently unaware that Eris had a sister. “What do we gain from this ‘protection’? It seems like you are requesting a lot, yet you haven’t mentioned what you would give in return.”

Eris understood Feyre’s skepticism. He needed to present a compelling offer if he hoped to secure their assistance. Taking a deep breath, he considered his response carefully, aware that every word mattered.

“I understand your concerns, Feyre,” he began, his voice steady. “In return for your protection over my sister, I am willing to offer valuable resources and information that could aid you in your endeavors. I also pledge my loyalty to the Night Court, and I am prepared to assist in any way I can to further our mutual goals.”

Eris held his breath, waiting for their response, hoping that his offer would be enough to sway them in his favor.

Feyre considered Eris’s words carefully, her expression never faltering as she weighed his offer. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice measured yet decisive. 

“You offer is intriguing, Eris,” she began, her tone betraying a hint of cautious optimism. “Protection for your sister in exchange for valuable resources and your loyalty could indeed prove beneficial for us. Especially if you are willing to give any information about Autumn court to us.”

Rhysand, who had been observing the exchange in silence, letting his mate take charge, finally spoke. His voice, though commanding, held a hint of intrigue as he addressed Eris. “Indeed, Eris,” he said, his violet eyes glinting with curiosity. “Your offer holds promise. But tell me, how sick is your sister?”

Eris noted the bored expression on Rhysand's face, recognizing the calculated indifference that often masked deeper curiosity. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "My sister's condition is delicate," he replied, his tone solemn. "Her heart is weak, and she requires constant care and protection."

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to Feyre for a moment before returning to Eris. "Very well," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of finality. "We will discuss the details of your sister's stay in the Night Court further. But for now, let us focus on solidifying our alliance."

The paperwork was written right then and there, the terms of the alliance carefully outlined and agreed upon by both parties. Cassian, the general of the Night Court, seemed skeptical, his sharp eyes darting between Eris and the documents laid out before them. Meanwhile, Rhysand had discreetly spoken to Azriel, instructing him to have his spies gather any information they could find about Eris's sister in the Autumn Court, ensuring that Eris did not overhear the command.

Azriel nodded silently, his expression unreadable as he swiftly winnowed away, disappearing into the shadows to carry out his task.

Left alone with the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, Eris felt a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. This alliance could be the key to securing his family's future, but he knew that their trust was not easily earned. He resolved to tread carefully, mindful of the delicate balance of power that hung in the air.

Eris was just thankful you wouldn’t have to stay in the depths of Hewn City, while he had never been to Velaris. The city was spoken to be a safe place, safe from any enemies. Rhysand had ensured Eris that you would be protected as long as you would not be a threat. The place in which you would be staying was still to be communicated, though it seemed likely that you would be staying with their head healer at her cottage, to ensure your health was taken into consideration. Also, far away from any information that you could possibly overhear from what Eris had understood by the underlying threat. 

In four nights, you would be winnowed to the city of Velaris. His sister would be leaving the oppressive reign of Beron, a chance to give you for the first time in your three hundred years of life a chance for freedom- a fresh start.  

In four nights, the downfall of Beron would begin. 

Baked with Love (Geto x Reader) - Drabble/preview

Summary: You were a fresh out of college and happened to become roommates with one of the most dangerous curse user and his two adopted daughters. Could you cook your way into his heart? Takes place a couple years after the KFC breakup. 

a/n: There is not enough Geto fluff on this site :( Taking a break from writing ACOTAR fanfics! Also, not using Geto’s famous word because it makes me feel…weird..so I’m just using non-sorcerer a lot. Sorry! WC: 1.5k

****

After recently graduating from Tokyo University with a finance degree and landing a not-so-wonderful corporate job, you decided to splurge on a high-rise apartment with amazing views and a rooftop garden. Shortly after moving in, you occasionally heard two little girls playing in the apartment next door, either on the patio or through the thin walls. A nice family next door must mean a peaceful complex. Little did you know, the most dangerous curse user, who threatened the lives of non-sorcerers, lived in that quaint, peaceful apartment right next to yours.

A week goes by, and after starting your new corporate job, the nine-to-five lifestyle quickly begins to leave you stressed. To unwind from a dreaded day of spreadsheets and numbers, you picked up a new hobby: cooking and baking. However, one issue arose rather quickly. You end up making too much nearly every night, more than you can even bring to work. Sure, you could bring the dozens of muffins you made in five different flavors to the office, but what are the chances someone would actually grab a couple? You were new, after all, and didn’t have the proper work clique. Another thought: you could always drop some off for the peaceful family next door. With two small children, surely food wouldn’t go to waste.

So you decided to walk over, with a bag full of various breads and muffins. Tomorrow you wanted to try and make a cake so you needed the counter space. It was only eight in the evening, might be a little too late in the evening with little ones, but you knocked on the door regardless. After a few moments, a man with tired bags and gorgeous long inky black hair clad in a black shirt and sweats opened the door and gazed down at you with those soft violet eyes that reminded you of ube, perhaps you’ll make ube mochi later this week. 

“Can I help you?” His velvet-smooth voice, like honey, slipped through a polite smile that seemed almost trained. A voice that left your cheeks dusting the faintest shade of pink. Your eyes seemed to want to look everywhere but at him as he raised a brow.

Were you taking too long to speak? Why won’t words come out?

“Hi, I’m your neighbor… I just moved in next door. I happened to have baked too much, and I was wondering if you would like to take some bread and muffins off my hands.” Your words came out slightly stuttered, perhaps a little too fast, a little too loud, but the message got across.

That polite, trained smile tilted down for a second until he gave a shrug.

Suguru watched you stutter over your words, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. For a non-sorcerer, your nervousness was endearing.

“I see…” Suguru leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms across his broad chest, and looked down at you for a moment longer than necessary before shifting his gaze to the pink bag in your hands.

“Well, thank you. I’m sure my girls will appreciate that,” he said, the sweet, polite smile crossing his lips again, making your heart skip a beat.

“Of course, I just happened to have baked a little too much… wait, your girls?” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could catch them. You figured this was like an older brother or an uncle, but the dad? This man in front of you looked around your age… there’s no way he could possibly have children. He looked like a recent college grad. Who are you to judge, though? You swiftly chastised yourself.

Suguru chuckled softly, a light, amused sound slipping past his lips as he noticed your surprise. It was clear that you were probably expecting the girls' father to be some middle-aged family man, not a twenty-something. Yet, he found your surprise endearing, enjoying the way your cheeks dusted pink and how you seemed entranced by his every word. He had that effect on people, after all.

“Yup. Two little girls. Twins, actually—Nanako and Mimiko. Quite the handful, but they’re both sweethearts. I’m sure you’ve heard them from time to time.” Suguru spoke with a soft smile on his face. He wouldn’t dare reveal that they were adopted to a stranger; he might as well have you assuming that they were his legitimate children.

“Ah, yeah, that must be a lot of work… well, if you ever need any baked goods… I’m next door, so… yeah… feel free to knock,” you spoke softly, mentally cursing yourself for being so awkward. You work with people every day, how was this any different? How could you be fumbling over yourself this much?

Suguru enjoyed the way you stumbled over your words, amused by your bout of shyness. The way you seemed so awkward was kind of cute… no. Suguru had to remind himself that he hates non-sorcerers, that they are the reason why curses exist. That… this neighbor bringing him a giant bag of baked goods could create a curse. Suguru reminded himself to be polite, to play the role.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m sure the girls would love for you to spoil them with sweets,” he said, his voice smooth and polite. After that, he bid you goodnight. You bowed slightly before he closed the door and you entered your apartment. After shutting the door, you sank to the floor, leaning against it. Wanting to scream at yourself for being so awkward.

As you sat there, replaying the conversation in your head, you couldn't help but smile a little. Despite your awkwardness, he was kind. Maybe this could be the start of a nice neighborly relationship. You took a deep breath and stood up, deciding to focus on the positive. You had done a nice thing, and that was what mattered.

**** 

Meanwhile, in Suguru’s apartment, he debated what to do with the bag of baked goods. Should he throw them away? The three different flavors of bread, including a rosemary-scented loaf he presumed to be sourdough, made his stomach almost growl. The blueberry muffins looked a little too perfect, and the milk bread seemed as soft as a cloud. He should throw these away; the food was tainted by a non-sorcerer, after all.

Suguru debated for a few moments, finally deciding to just leave them on the counter. The twins would eat them anyway. At eight years old, they were both eating quite a bit. He was only slightly tempted to partake but decided to leave them there for the night.

It was currently nine in the evening as he made his way to his own bedroom. He double-checked to find both girls sleeping soundly in their room, leaving the door just a crack before heading to his own. As he lay in bed, he read through any documents that needed to be signed for the organization that his assistant had sent over.

As he sifted through the paperwork, his mind kept drifting back to you. Your awkwardness, your genuine offer of kindness—it was disarming. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had approached him so openly, without any hidden agenda. It was a refreshing, albeit confusing, change from the norm.

He shook his head, focusing back on the documents. Relationships with non-sorcerers were complicated, dangerous even. He had to maintain his distance. Yet, a small part of him couldn’t deny the curiosity about his new neighbor.

The next morning, Suguru woke early as usual. He prepared breakfast for the twins, trying to ignore the tantalizing smell of the baked goods still sitting on the counter. When Nanako and Mimiko finally shuffled into the kitchen, their eyes lit up at the sight of the muffins and bread.

“Geto-sama, did you make these?” Nanako asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

“No, our new neighbor did,” Suguru replied, watching their faces for any reaction.

“Can we try them?” Mimiko asked, already reaching for a muffin.

Suguru hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Go ahead.”

The girls eagerly took bites of the muffins, their faces lighting up with delight.

“These are so good!” Nanako exclaimed, her mouth full of muffin.

“Yeah! Can we meet the neighbor and thank them?” Mimiko added, looking up at Suguru with hopeful eyes.

Suguru smiled softly, their enthusiasm infectious. “Maybe later. For now, enjoy your breakfast.”

As he watched the twins happily munch on the baked goods, Suguru couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge. Maybe, just maybe, not all non-sorcerers were the same. Or maybe, you were the one that was different from the rest of them. He pondered for a moment, what would you think of his lifestyle, would you be afraid of the blood on his hands, would you still look up at him with that awkward shy smile of yours?

✴★ 𝓙𝓾𝓳𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓾 𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽★✴

𝒮𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝑜'𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒?

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