#anyways take this offering [vanishes back into the ether for another few weeks probably]

[lionbearfox]

assorted nahida doodles in varying levels of complete

[silentexplorer18]

One: Quiet Beginnings and Dusty Shelves

Word Count: 1,300+

Series Masterlist  ▪  Masterlist

Next ⪼

You were perched on a pillow on the floor of the common room, the emerald flicker of evening flames illuminating the pages of some forgotten relic of a book that nobody had probably read in the last century.  But you did.

Draco gulped, fingertips itching to grab the bundled stack of papers in his robe pocket, brittle sheets delicately wrapped in dragonhide.

He’d arrived late, curfew prowling for the Inquisitorial Squad always pushing him well past when his housemates had fallen asleep.  Except for you, who appeared to spend the pre-weekend evening face first in some book or another.

That’s how it always was with you, always a book.

Yet for some horrific reason he wanted to talk to you.  And he was terrified you wouldn’t want that.

How had he arrived at this juncture in his life?  Sweating at the prospect of speaking to a girl he’d been attempting to understand for months?  A girl who, by all intentions, probably wouldn’t care about his conversation in the slightest?  Like the great stories she read in dusty, leather bound books, it took time.

It began in First Year.

Most Slytherins possessed an appreciation for traditional things, but you were… different.

You were quiet and tended to keep to yourself.  That wasn’t particularly un-Slytherin of you, but it certainly didn’t help people understand the rather bizarre interests that flighted your fancy.  Namely, old literature.

Most of your housemates couldn’t be bothered with you, something that appeared to bother neither you nor them.  Well, mostly.

When Parkinson mentioned it at dinner a few weeks after the sorting ceremony, Draco hadn’t thought much of it.  “She reads all these strange books,” she hissed, squinting down the table at you where you sat drinking pumpkin juice, nose tucked in a leather-bound book.

Draco shrugged.  “What’s the matter with it?”

Glaring at him, Pansy reached for her goblet, held it like a wine glass, mimicking the high-society women she’d studied, the ones she would one day become.  “It’s terrible.  The first few weeks we’re supposed to make friends.  She surely hasn’t made any.”

“Are you offering?” Goyle asked, digging into a piece of pie.

She upturned her nose.  “Hardly.”

And that was that.

Until Fourth Year.

Parkinson had dropped into her seat for breakfast.  It was the day after returning for the year, and Draco had hardly given himself time to think of what the year’s woes would bring.  Thankfully, she was able to clue him in.

“It’s awful,” she lamented, stabbing a strawberry with her fork.  “I’m roomed with that horrid bookworm!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Draco asked, glancing toward your spot at the far end of the table.  Somehow you’d claimed it in First Year; nobody bothered to deny it to you since.  “At least she’s quiet.”

She rolled her eyes.  “She never leaves her room except for class!  I’ll never have any time to myself.”

Crabbe chuckled.  “Maybe it would do you good to stop shagging everyone in the girls’ dormitory.”

A huff.  An irritated glare.  Okay, maybe joking wasn’t going to rectify Parkinson’s issue.

“I’m sure you could ask her,” Goyle offered.  “She seems fine.”

“She’s probably a loon,” she whispered, “Nose always in a book.  Hardly talks to anyone.”

“I’ve only seen her talk with Loony Lovegood.”  Crabbe bit into his toast, hoping confirming her opinions would shut Parkinson up.

She gestured toward Crabbe, a delicate movement that didn’t match the frustration in her voice.  “See!  And I have to room with her for the year!”

“Find out what she reads,” Draco insisted.  “Then we’ll know what she’s up to.”

After three weeks of classes, Pansy was spilling the latest girl she’d been flirting with, and Draco’s mind snapped back to their earlier conversation.

“Did you ever find out what (Y/L/N) likes to read?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, waving a dismissive hand.  “She goes through them so quickly.  There was a Burbage I think, then a Eunice, a few Leontines or something of the sort.  She said they weren’t Muggle; we wouldn’t still be rooming together if they were.  But I don’t know who they are.  Anyway, back to Ava.  You wouldn’t believe what she said!”

But Draco lost interest after that.  Whatever Parkinson had been trying to say slipped past his mind as words like Burbage and Leontines flickered through his mind.

He found them in the library over the weekend.  On shelves coated with a thick layer of dust, he found ancient philosophies, texts on politics, memoirs of the first magic users.

At least you were erudite; something he certainly couldn’t say about Parkinson, Crabbe, or Goyle.

He kept an eye on you after that, followed your fingerprints as they trailed the dusty covers.  Suddenly, there was a lot more he wanted to read this year other than textbooks.  Sometimes he would purposely arrive to class late, just to peek at the title of your latest book.  He wanted to understand the knowledge you were cleaving to.

Over summer holiday, Draco found himself perusing his father’s private library, asking about authors well beyond his father’s years.  Tired of the pestering, his father unveiled a new room to him.  At least, new to him.

“This was my father’s old study,” he stated.  That curt tone disguising the pang that went through his chest at the sight of the dusty old desk and barren chairs.  “Do with the materials as you will.”  With a great swoosh, he disappeared down the hall.

Draco hardly came up for air that summer, drowned in swirling scripts and reprinted texts.  It nearly took his mother dragging him from the room for any Fifth Year preparations to be made.

But it had led up to this moment, staring at you as the green light painted the high points of your cheeks, dancing against the tips of your lashes.  It felt like now or never; like his first time on a broom, he just had to take that faithful step.

“What are you reading?” he asked, voice slicing through the silence.  Suddenly his heartbeat was drowning out the cracking of the fire, the distant rumble of rain on the lake’s surface echoing down, down down--

“Junius,” you said, staring at him with surprised eyes.

This was a test.  He had to know what to say.

“Seems a bit late for inquisitions into ethereal magic, wouldn’t you say?”

You glanced down, shutting the frayed cover.  “Perhaps.  I would’ve gone to bed eventually.”

A silence lulled between you, awkward, unnerving.

“I brought you a book.”  The words jumped out of him before he had time to consider what he was saying.

You arched a brow as he fetched the brittle pages, holding them out toward her, closer than before, though he couldn’t remember getting closer.  “It’s Quantavius.  An original.”

He could see the curiosity washing across your face, practically pulling you to the pages.  “And how do you know I like Quantavius?”

“I know things,” he shrugged, delight pinging through his chest like confetti before his internal celebration deflated.

You looked away.  “I can’t.”  Suddenly the book was being pushed back toward him, you were standing uncomfortably, glancing toward the exit.

He tried to stop his face from falling, but it was harder said than done.  “Why?”

“I don’t want to owe you, Malfoy.”

His brow furrowed.  “Owe me?”

“You’re on the Inquisitorial Squad.”  Your eyes burned with challenge, his pulse jumped.  “I don’t want to owe you.”

“It’s important that I’m on the Squad,” he shot back.  “Someone has to push back against those idiots causing terror.”

You shook your head.  He couldn’t blame you; even he couldn’t believe the bullshit he was spouting.  “You know that’s wrong.”

“It’s what Professor Umbridge wants,” he argued, chest aching as he knew his chances with you were slipping from his grasp.  “It’s what’s right for the school.”

“Sophronia,” you said, waiting for the recognition to pool in his eyes, a recognition that did not come.  “Not everything that’s encouraged is right.  You still have a lot to learn, Malfoy.”

You vanished up the stairs before he could say another word.

Parkinson was right; you were a bloody nightmare.

Next ⪼

[finallysunflower]

Megumi Fushiguro x reader/unnamed oc

no warnings. 1.2k w.

a/n: I had this idea based on a song that I was listening to! and the end result has nothing to do with the song! so we’ll revisit that later! but in all honesty, this piece stressed me the heck out, and I’m not to proud of it but I hope you all think its okay! If you have any comments or request feel free to hit me up! xxx

Megumi scrubs his hand down his face before pocketing his cellphone. 

He doesn’t have time for this.

When he offered to take up this small task for Gojo-sensei, he thought he was getting a quick one-and-done exorcism. At least that’s what he was made to believe. 

However, after spending six days scouring the city for any signs of a curse, he has turned up empty handed. 

He rubs at his temple, trying to ward off the migraine he feels kicking in. 

Several people have reported sounds of a young woman crying at night, and almost immediately after, witnesses describe experiencing a pain in their chest, reminiscent of a heart attack. 

These attacks have occurred every night for the past month before anyone from the academy could check it out, and now that Megumi is here, the curse has all but vanished. No crying, no pain, not even a hint of cursed energy. And after almost a week of inactivity, Megumi is ready to call this mission a dead end.

His phone rings in his pocket, and he reaches to fish it out before answering it. 

“Hey Fushiguro!” 

Megumi winces, pulling the phone a few inches away from his ear as Itadori continues to yell through the speaker. 

“Me and Kugisaki are gonna head over to Shibuya to grab some eats. You wanna meet us there?”

Megumi sighs. Honestly, it's cold, he's tired and he can see the edges of a rainstorm creeping on the horizon. The last thing that he wants to do, second to last if you count wandering around these vacant buildings, is fight his way through the crowded city streets looking around for somewhere equally as crowded to sit for a meal. 

“Fine. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Itadori whoops loudly into the receiver. 

“Alright! So what were you thinking about eating, because Kugasaki was talking about tonkatsu bowls, but I told her that wasn’t gonna happen because I already had that for lunch, and I wanted sushi instead, right?”

Megumi hums in affirmation as he turns in the direction of the train station. 

He continues to walk, letting Itadori continue rambling off in his ear like white noise to his background, mentally ticking off things he has to do once he gets back to the dorms. He’s about to turn onto a new block, when it begins. 

A single wrenching sob rings through the dark. It comes so quietly, Megumi wonders if all these nights out are messing with his head. He lowers the phone from his face, straining his ears to see if he can find the source, before a piercing wail cuts through the air, so sharp Megumi feels as though it has sliced through every nerve in his body. He whips around to scan the empty street he stands on, body poised to summon his shadows. 

His eyes flit from each building, looking for any sign of the curse responsible. Just then, another soft sob calls out. Megumi catches the tail end of the echo, spotting a small compound building hidden by the darkness. 

“I have to go.” Megumi states into his phone, hanging up before Itadori could get in a word of protest, and makes his way to the building. 

Silence rings in his head, buzzing on the edges of his mind. The lack of noise doesn’t feel organic to Megumi. The quiet vibrates like static in his bones. He can admit that it is unnerving, at the least.

And then he hears it. 

Soft splashes against the concrete floors echo through the warehouse. Megumi straightens up, tilting his head to the side to try and get a better listen. Water?

Megumi’s hands drop to his side, and he begins to follow the sound up the stairs, deeper into the building. He wanders the halls, searching for the source of the noise, before he hears them again. 

Not water, he thinks. Tears. 

As he continues wandering the upper level of the building, another soft sob pulls through the empty air surrounding him.

At this, Megumi feels his chest tighten. He presses his palm over his heart to stop it from squeezing in his chest.

He doesn’t think he’s ever experienced a sound so tangible in his life. He probably should turn around and call for backup. But he continues on into the darkness anyway. 

With every step he takes, Megumi feels the space between his ribs grow smaller. By the time he meets the end of the hall, it feels as though a thousand ton weight rests on his chest. He looks up at the closed door in front of him, before resting his head against the frame. 

It has to be here. He reaches up and grasps the collar of his uniform in his fist. The pain in his chest is unbearable, the energy from this curse, this… whatever it is, is crushing Megumi. He takes a deep breath before throwing the door open. 

He expected anything but this. 

He expected to find a gruesome curse, monster, thing at the center of this. 

He never expected this. 

He never expected you. 

Megumi feels his feet moving forward before he could register what was going on. 

You were looking out of a window, back facing him. The robes you wore slipped off of your shoulder, exposing your back. In any other instance, Megumi’s face would heat at such a view. 

When he finally stops, he is standing directly behind you. This close, the soft tinkling of your tears sounds like waterfalls crashing. He lifts his hand, moving it to grasp your arm, when suddenly, you turn to face him. 

Megumi falls to his knees, writhing. His hands press against his chest, clawing at the material of his jacket as he gasps for air. 

In all of his time at the academy, Megumi has never experienced such raw agony. He feels hot tears slide down his face and pool on the ground in front of him. Mind racing in a frenzy, he wills his body to move, but remains piled on the ground, hopelessly. 

Megumi was going to die. He was sure of it. He was going to die without a fighting chance, at that.

He feels the edges of his vision blurring, as he continues to fight the losing war of remaining conscious. Just as he is ready to offer up his surrender, he feels hands, soft and light, cup his face. 

The pounding of his heartbeat slowly starts to subside. You tilt his face upward, and finally, Megumi gets a good look at you. 

Objectively, if this was a coffee shop and not Megumi’s final resting place, he would think you were cute. However, in the face of his own mortality, Megumi thought you to be ethereal. 

Unshed tears danced on the edges of your eyes, tipping over to follow the tear streaked skin of your cheeks. Your cries had softened, leaving gentle hiccups to fall from the plush of your lips.

Upon your touch, the invisible weights on Megumi’s limbs melted off, and before he could think, his palm moved to rest against your face, thumb swiping a stray tear as it rolled over the swell of your cheek. 

Megumi takes a shaky breath to still the cadence being drummed by his heart, before he speaks.

“Hey.”

[thatnaruhinaanon]

[Part 3]

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Naruto reread Sasuke’s message one last time before dropping his phone on his desk and leaning against the back of his chair, his brows furrowed. His friend’s behavior wasn’t exactly strange: Sasuke had always had very little consideration for anything that wasn’t himself or his family but, even for his standards, that was a pretty dick move. He sighed. Whatever. Naruto would pick up the most expensive items on a menu somewhere and just give him the bill to pay, then; that was the least his friend could do.

He casted a glance around him, his eyes quickly scanning their surroundings. This room, just like the rest of the building, was relatively new and nicely furnished. The hospital must have been less than five years old and Naruto had to admit that he had been quite impressed upon seeing it for the very first time a week ago. His previous hospital well might have been one of the country’s most prestigious health care facilities, the premises themselves were now quite dilapidated and could certainly not compete against the wonders of the multibillion Uchiha money machine, as proven by this office. How big was it, twenty square meters? And just for one man? Naruto wasn’t used to such luxury.

Guiltlessly putting off the tedious set-up of his computer to a later time, he gathered up his phone and wallet before getting up, his hand hesitating to grab the thick orange parka he had showed up with earlier this morning. Usually, Naruto never left the hospital with his white coat on: sure, he had always been a bit of a show-off, but walking around in such apparel was for the braggers and the half-wits, which wasn’t his case. However, with such a big private hospital in the neighborhood, medical staff and patients must have been regulars of the restaurants and takeaways of the vicinity, and visually signaling on his first time out that he belonged to Konoha may be the smarter thing to do in case he needed help or anything. Plus, it wasn’t that cold anyway today for the season, courtesy of global warming.

Once on the sidewalk in front of the building’s main entrance and slightly shivering under the stiff fabric of the lab coat, his short and spiky hair catching the shy rays of sun that made it through the late February clouds, the hunt could finally start. He could have probably just ordered their meal online or checked for a place with good ratings beforehand, but there was something inherently exciting in just slipping his smartphone in his back pocket and wandering around those unfamiliar streets, on the lookout for a place to catch his eye. 

To be honest, Naruto had also never been good at taking advice from other people online and clearly prefered discovering and experiencing life by himself, at the risk of making mistakes and missing out on opportunities. He passed a Korean barbecue restaurant, located only two buildings away, as well as a burger place and a tiny ramen joint, but kept on walking -regretfully. Knowing himself, he would probably be trying that ramen place on the very next day and every other one of the week, so picking up something more to Sasuke’s liking for once was in order. Moreover, he didn’t want to eat like a horse on his first day of work, especially when he was to meet the Chief of surgery and the Head of General surgery right after. A lighter option would probably be more appropriate…

Naruto squinted as he carefully studied the different establishments in the busy business street he had just gotten in: around him, salarymen and women in suits and pencil skirts jostled around the crowded sidewalks, eagerly rushing inside their favorite lunch places to grab their takeaway. Hmm. All these small restaurants seemed like great options, but their lines were quite long, with some people even waiting outside sometimes, and he did not have this kind of time on his hands. He strolled a couple of meters, passing more food joints without making his mind. Hmm hmm. All things considered, ordering online may not have been such a terrible idea, afterall.

He checked the time on his phone, and his mouth let out a little annoyed noise. He really had to hurry up if he wanted to make it on time for Sasuke. Damn it. Should he simply head back to the hospital and get food delivered? Maybe…

A sigh of relief escaped him when, stuck between a fastfood and a sushi chain, the sight of a tiny takeaway restaurant with only three customers inside appeared to him, and he hurriedly stepped inside, so happy to have found a place with such a short line that he almost knocked down the person who was waiting right in front of him with the door.

“Wow, my bad, sorry about that!” He apologized as he cautiously closed the glass door behind him, embarrassed. The customer turned around and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“It’s all good, don’t you worry” they assured him with their soft voice before turning back again, and Naruto curiously looked at the menu, displayed on big black slates hanging behind the cashier. His relieved smile vanished instantly. 

He had entered some kind of salad place.

He may not have been a picky eater but vegetables were definitely not a food group that he willingly welcomed to his table on a daily basis, and salads were the most remotely thing from a meal possible in his eyes. Instinctively, he raised his hand up in the hair and scratched the back of his neck. No wonder why no one was eating here! What was he, a rabbit?

He was in a hard place. On one hand, he had no intention whatsoever to eat leafs and roots for lunch, but on the other side, time was running out and it was getting too late to get food anywhere else. He glanced around, looking for help… But nobody was coming to his rescue.

He took a few steps front.

“Hmm, excuse-me, Ms?” He dared asking in a whisper the woman he had almost smashed the door into. Her ethereal eyes looked up to him again, wide and surprised. “Do you know by any chance what’s good on the menu?” He added, shakily. “I’m grabbing lunch for a friend and I and this former isn’t big on vegetables”. His lips stretched, the smile he had intended as comforting and charming coming off straight awkward and creepy. The woman blinked. 

“I believe your friend is going to get disappointed no matter what…” She blinked again.  “Salad bars are not exactly renowned for their fish or meat.”    

Well, duh. He knew that already, he wasn’t exactly stupid. Just really unlucky to have walked into the one healthy restaurant on the street.

“Alright”, he conceded nonchalantly, “I’ll have what you’re having, then.”

The blue-haired woman raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a sly baby grin crossing her face.

“Except you don’t know what I’m having”, she pointed out to him, visibly amused by the turn of events. Naruto innocently shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll just listen really carefully to your order”, he sassed back. The woman chuckled.

“And what if I whisper it to the cashier?”

Pfff. Too easy. “Then, I would just ask for what the person before me had”, he answered, a false serious look on his face that made the female customer's cheeks redden as she bit her smile away. In front of them, the line moved.

“Next customer, please?” Called the woman behind the cash register, and Naruto’s lovely line companion promptly moved forwards.

“Oh ah, sorry”, she managed to get out, the words now weirdly jostling against one another in her mouth, “May I have two number six with green teas, please?”

“Make that four, please!” Loudly chimed in Naruto, blatantly ignoring the somewhat scandalized look from the light-eyes woman that his familiarity was earning him, “But forget the green teas for me. Let’s tone all that healthiness down with some cokes instead.”

And with his order done, he respectfully took a step back to give his neighbor all the privacy they needed to pay. 

Perhaps having a salad for lunch wasn’t the worst thing. The little scene that had just played out  had somewhat reboosted him, successfully convincing his brain to release a wave of endorphins that were much needed on this stressful first day of work, and that almost compensated for the disgustingly green food he was about to ingest. Perhaps should he get the woman something, like offering to pay for her teas? To thank her for this nice parenthesis.

 “Are you working at the Konoha hospital?”

Pulling him out of his reflection, the crystal voice of the customer caught Naruto’s attention again and he almost imperceptibly shook his head to chase the fog that was clouding his brain. The blouse had been a good idea, in the end.

“As a matter of fact”, he answered with a boyish smile, “Today’s my first day there! How did you guess?” He added with a lopsided smirk as he stretched his arms wide open to highlight the white coat. He wondered for a second what his interlocutor did for a living: judging by her pair of black leggings under her long dark purple coat and her flats, she wasn’t working a desk job -unless there were some fancy young startups in the surrounding area he didn’t know about. Would it be okay to ask her about her own job?

He didn’t tergiversate for long though as, coming from behind the cash register, an employee was already bringing her up a big brown bag.

“Ma’am, your order!” Announced the employee, and Naruto found himself almost frustrated that they had been so effective and fast. He was enjoying this impromptu interaction. 

In front of him, the woman kindly accepted her package and, upon turning around to leave the shop, bowed her head in Naruto’s direction.

“It was a pleasure waiting in line with you” she told him, her liquid pupils focused on the floor. “May you have a pleasant lunch with your friend.”

“Thanks, you t-” started Naruto, but she was already gone, her small legs carrying her as quickly as they could outside of the door. The blond surgeon contemplated the glass for a second, dumbfounded. She had run away so fast. Was she actually in a hurry? She had seemed so calm this entire time, he would have never guessed so.

“Sir, your menus!”

With a polite smile, he walked in turn to the cashier and got his wallet out of his coat’s pocket. “How much do I owe you?” He asked, already reaching for some crumpled bills that he had shoved inside with very little care. The employee shook their head, and emphatically handed them his bag.

“The lady before you paid already. She said it was a gift for your first day of work.”

Oh.

He should have definitely offered to pay for her teas.

[Part 5]