#feeling like those husbands who reminisce their dead wife all beautiful and glowing with their long hair flowing in the wind

[kame56u]

happy birthday izou!

[thefairyletters]

NaruSaku Fanfics

I wouldn't say much – I love NaruSaku and I hate to see great works shadowed behind the piles of popular NS stories that I never have liked as much except for a few, which also I'll drop below in the list.

I'll update this list whenever I come across a story that I particularly enjoy or finds worth spreading word across. So be sure to like and reblog this post so you can revisit it to add new story in your reading pile later.

Also, genres vary and are not mentioned, but does it make any difference as long as the story is good?

Warning: super long post featuring beautiful, beautiful stories that you wouldn't regret reading. I swear. I'm positive. Contains SNS and other side pairings.

Without further ado;

How I fell in love with my best friend: Krapo || ff.net || M || complete

How the little blond boy Sakura had always known had changed, changing as well her feelings. The unfolding of their life, while Naruto worked to become the best Hokage and she faced her own emotions. Growing Love.

(I have nothing but upmost reverence for this story. This author writes one of the nest NS and I have loved all. NS is beautiful and Sakura is badass. Everything we already know is here and more.)

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Dangerous infiltration mission: Krapo || ff.net || M || complete

Naruto and Sakura are send by the Hokage for a difficult infiltration mission. They will have to face more than just the danger itself as they will have to keep their cover to be fake husband and wife credible. how it will impact the relationship between the two ninja. Growing Love. Misunderstanding.

(If you loved the aforementioned story, you'll love this one too. Mutual pining.)

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All over again: Krapo || ff.net || M || post-war || complete

Sasuke come back, Team seven is reunited. But Sakura has lost Naruto. How will she make him fall in love with her again? What other difficulties lies ahead of them?

(Naruto loses memory. SasuSaku angst but not in romantic sense and I loved it all. Misunderstanding and more mutual pining. And I'm in love with this story too.)

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Hit the floor running: Sakurablossom009 || A03 || M (but unnecessary) || Modern Hitman/Robbers AU || complete

Life was going great, Sakura thought. She was penniless, stranded in Europe without a way home, her fiancee had just dumped her for another woman AND her new companion was quite possibly a thief. How could things get any worse? Wait...was that guy pointing a gun at her?

(Now, personally, I don't prefer modern AU, but this story really had interesting characterisation and more character depth. NaruSaku is pretty spot on. It also features SasuHina and bamf!Hinata)

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The greatest pretenders: snowyseas || ff.net || M || Borutoverse || ongoing

Fifteen years is a long time to not talk to someone you consider your best friend, and is made even more difficult when they (and you) are married. The things Sakura should have confronted Naruto about never came to fruition, but as an old saying goes, "the truth will always be revealed".

(Your typical I-made-a-wrong-choice-but-now-can-be-done story but unlike many other stories in this they don't admit their love for each chapter at the first chapter itself. In fact, it feels so canon and you can almost superimpose it upon the canon. Sakura is mentally strong and knows what's right. )

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He was the sun: SavageTrickster || ff.net || T || Canonverse || ongoing

He had come a long way - from a lonely orphan ostracized by everyone to a loved hero. He deserved all these. His Hokage dream to come true. All the ramen he could eat. - Her eyes fell on a certain Hyuuga seated close enough for accidental touches. Her heart sank a little at a harsh whisper of reminder - And a deserving girl...who could give him all her love.

(So far so good. It's ongoing, and is at chapter 3. Sakura leaves Konoha much like how Naruto did, to explore the world aka seeing my headcanon in writing.)

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Wilderness: Kanji no Sakka || M || canondivergent || ongoing

As the war screeches to a temporary halt, Naruto leaves the battlefield on a unique mission only he can complete. Sakura is ordered to go with him. In the days that follow their bond is changed forever.

(Although I hate any explicit stories that involve characters below age 17, I give this a pass because of the uniqueness of plot and characterisation. It has fine lemons that comes with a good plot.)

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How It Should Have Been: OfPaintAndOil || ff.net || T || canon divergent || oneshot

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Sasuke was supposed to be the dark one, the unredeemable one. Naruto was the bright one, the good one. It wasn't supposed to be like this, with blood on his hands and glowing red eyes and a grin. Naruto was supposed to make everything better, and maybe he did, in the end, but Sakura had never expected the end to look quite like this.

(Featuring Yandere!Naruto. It leaves you wanting for more and is a fascinating read. It's dark themed so proceed with caution as your favorite character might or might not be dead.)

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The Best Dates are the Cheap Ones: Shivakashi || ff.net || T || post!Timeskip || Oneshot

The whole point was to get the best date; that meant the richest and classiest guy, right? Sakura realizes what she has taken for granted and Ino learns a lesson in value.

(Sakura learns her lesson and snatches her boy. InoNaru is worth noting. Not the best characterisation of Sakura but bear with her jealousy for that is the reason why NS fluff exists. Story itself is very light and entertaining.)

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mangoes and strawberries: ohthelinsanity || ff.net || T || postwar || oneshot

Sakura Haruno was elbow deep in Naruto Uzumaki's guts when he asked her to marry him. It was so not the right time. But she still said yes.

(This story just screams NS upon every single line. Diabetes warning. Too cute for this world. One of the best NS fluff I've read thus far. It kinda sticks to you forever!)

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18 minutes, 23 seconds: ohthelinsanity || ff.net || T || postwar || oneshot

in which Naruto asks Sakura about that time she literally reached into his chest and grabbed his heart with her bare hand.

(Heartwarming. We all know how Sakura held Naruto's heart on her palms and how we love that moment. This is memory of that moment reminisced by our cutie pies.)

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One Big Uzumaki Family: John Smith || ff.net || T || postwar || Complete

A set of drabbles revolving around Naruto, Sakura, and their children. It turns out that, when the war ends, these two get busy. Real busy.

(IF YOU DON'T READ THIS MASTERPIECE HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF NS FAN?!!! READ!!! This story should be on the top of your reading list.

UNDERRATED AF!

R e a d t h i s s t o r y and cry with me for this should have been canon. 100%)

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My Life Would Suck Without You: peanutbutter126 || ff.net || T || oneshot collection

Sometimes it's the smallest things that matter the most.

(Read this and then One big Uzumaki family. You'll feel super satisfied. I promise.)

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Colors and Carousels: Folle Sakura || ff.net || T || oneshot

She couldn't count the number of times she'd been mistaken for Naruto's girlfriend. Not that she minded. But Naruto acted like it was so… so… offensive.

(No words for this one. Just read and enjoy the confusion.)

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Let's Get Married: luvtoshi || ff.net || M || postwar || complete

It was supposed to be a simple solution to their immediate problems. But maybe they took more than they can chew?

(This is one of my few favorites that is also popular. Spot on characterization and beautiful relationship growth. This is one of the few stories that always stuck to me.)

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Chasing Smoke with Bare Hands: soulaire || ff.net || T || oneshot

"I could have loved her," Sasuke says flatly. "If she'd just given me the chance—" "Sakura gave you all the chances in the world," Kakashi cuts in, stern. "You underestimated her. And you underestimated her ability to walk away from you. At the core of it all, that's where things went wrong."

(This story is for those who loves both SS and NS but thinks Sakura deserves happier life than what she got in canon. Features NS and slight SS.)

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Touch: ohthelinsanity || ff.net || T || oneshot

Kakashi watches as his student grow to be more physically comfortable with one another. He finds it kinda ridiculous.

(Fluff. Feelings. Kakashi's fed up and might have diabetes from all the observation.)

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Moonlight shadows: luvtoshi || ff.net || T || oneshot

Sometimes, the moon brings out hidden feelings to the surface.

(Beautiful literature. NS feels. You can almost mistake it for canon with the way characters are written.)

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Seriously Serious: Damsel in Shining Armor || ff.net || T || modern AU || oneshot

He confessed to her when they first met. He confessed to her years after. He confessed to her almost everyday. Her response was almost always positive... So why the heck was he still single? "I love you." "Love you too. So is Sasuke-kun taken or not?"

(The only reason why I even picked this story is that it is a oneshot. I have very little interest in modern AU. But this one makes another exception. Pining. Love at first sight.)

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It was always you: luvtoshi || ff.net || M || postwar || complete

The war is long over. They have both grown. Now it's time to conclude their story. Naruto and Sakura.

(You know what, all stories from this author are just, Chef's kiss. )

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A Safe Pair of Hands: Kanji no Sakka || ff.net || T || oneshot

Sakura heeds a stern warning to make it clear how she feels about Naruto.

(Feels. You'll love this if you like first person pov. This story told from Sakura's pov.)

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Other Dreams: tricksie || ff.net || M || oneshot

"Naruto, you shouldn't endanger yourself—" "Stop it," he snapped. Dropping his arm to hook under her seat, Naruto pulled her firmly onto his hip, locking her to him. Sakura gasped, suddenly aware of just how very close they were.

(Sexual tension. Romance. Leaves you wanting. Also, high on feels and lust on equal measure.)

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Heaven Unexpected: Folle || ff.net || M || oneshot

Because nothing can happen; it's Naruto. He always comes back. He's practically indestructible.

(Heavy on feels. There are chances that it might rain. Actually there are high chances. But oh well, it's beautiful and one of my favourites so here it goes.)

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Shade of the Leaf: Ravyn || ff.net || T || canon divergent || complete

Sasuke is back. Naruto has joined ANBU. Sakura is spending more time in the hospital than in the field. Team 7 struggles to redefine itself, because sometimes you don't know what you really want after all.

(Featuring Mature but still in-character!Naruto, Badass!Sakura, (Bit)Supportive!Sasuke along with Team 7 friendship. Mutual pining. Ending but with a lot loose ends.)

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Breaking Up Isn't that Hard to Do: Narf-for-the-Garthoc || ff.net || T || oneshot

This is not an epic tale of action, suspense and true love. Yeah, I'm disappointed, too.

(This is pure comedy. With a dash of romance. And insanity.)

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Steamy Encounters: Narf-for-the-Garthoc || ff.net || T || oneshot

A flurry of coincidences and fateful machinations bring Naruto and Sakura together at the local baths. Can they rein in their animal passions? And do you really think that's the kind of story I write?

(Just r e a d. Please.)

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Garden of Sanctuary: Nes Mikel || ff.net || T || Canon divergent || oneshot

An alternate ending to Naruto. The Heavens describe the Garden a peaceful paradise. The Hells describe the Garden a baneful prison. In here... which is it?

(This is part of a series which you can follow from the author's profile. This is the second part, but can be read exclusively. As far as the AU goes, this story and settings is brilliant and heartbreaking. This is told from Naruto's pov. To look at things from Sakura's, read the first part. It is multi-chaptered.)

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Complications: Geno Calamari || ff.net || T || canon divergent || oneshot

While capturing the Kyuubi, Uchiha Itachi finds true adversaries in the form of Haruno Sakura and Uzumaki Naruto.

(Wanna see NaruSaku teamwork? This is it! You wouldn't find it anywhere better. Strong!Naruto, Strong!Sakura versus Itachi Uchiha)

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Life is a waving feather: jusrecht || AO3 || T || AU || oneshot

Everyone thought they were inevitable.

(There's beauty in subtlety and this is that. Also, mentions of character death.)

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Home: kirabook || AO3 || T || AU || complete

Shinachiku finds himself in a strange place with little to no explanation. Everyone he knows is there, but why are they acting so strangely? Why do they seem so different? And where is his home? 

(Cute and heartwrenching at the same time. Cameo Stalker. Read this for NS family feels pre-marriage.)

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Things we never say: thekatthatbarks || AO3 || T || oneshot

She wished she knew how to hold things lightly. There were some things she was terrified of breaking. Whether it be from an honest misstep or simply because she could.

(Reminds you why we love NS so much.)

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Open seasons: sazzafraz || AO3 || T || SNS || postwar || oneshot

The way Sasuke comes home is less myth and more devastatingly embarrassing happenstance.

(Featuring badass!Sakura, obedient!Naruto and normal!Sasuke, as well as Sakura's commentary on her life)

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Five things Sakura will never tell Naruto: sowell || AO3 || T || AU || oneshot

Kunoichi know how to keep their secrets.

(NS relationship analysis story.)

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Artistic purposes: StormyInk || AO3 || M || AU || Oneshot

Sai finds his favorite drawing subjects a bit lacking of late, and he sets a plan into motion to draw his team mates together. Simply for the sake of his art, of course.

(Aka Sai is fed up from seeing his teammates dancing around each other and decides to help them get laid–the story. You gotta admit Sai is the best wingman.)

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I collect my tears (so I can drown you in them): amako || AO3 || T || AU || complete

The hardest thing is letting go. Or Sakura sees Naruto falling in love with Shikamaru a little more every day, and she does the only thing she can think of. Then it's only a matter of learning how to stop loving Naruto.

(Sakura and Angst that has nothing to do with Sasuke. Featuring Sakura-sensei. And Shikamaru. It's a great story if you know when to let go of canon)

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Stranger than the wild: kiddattwell || AO3 || M || SNS || postwar || Ongoing

The war is over and Sasuke is home for good, but Sakura can't choose between the boys she loves. Sasuke still has his demons and Naruto still fights them and Sakura still follows them both, but this time down a path that none of them expected.

(This is canon. It is the best SNS story I've ever read. Story told in SNS POV in rotation. Slow burn, pining and relationship complication. YOU GOTTA READ THIS, I INSIST!!!! Also features SaiIno and InoShika.)

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Bringing Back Sasuke: Blue Jeans || ff.net || T || post war || oneshot

Naruto brings Sasuke back to Sakura. Many, many times over. Sasuke does not appreciate; not the blood and definitely not the angst.

(I've read this story multiple times and it gets funnier and makes your heart hurt and swell simultaneously each time. NaruSaku wouldn't be blissfully happy together without Sasuke thrown somewhere in the mix, that's exactly why I love SNS. This story perfectly represents the dynamic of team 7.)

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Yurei: Kanji no Sakka || ff.net || T || AU || oneshot

The past should stay dead and buried, but it won't if Naruto can't let go.

(Not exactly my favourite story, but I liked the concept. We all know how stubborn Naruto is once decides on something. If he wants to become Hokage, he will become Hokage. If he believes in Sasuke, he will believe in him forever. If he loves Sakura, he will marry her – uh, or should have, very OCC of him that he didn't.)

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Tag NS fan you know so they don't miss any of this!

[birdsvng]

𝐟𝐨𝐫   @bespokens

        ─────     𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍   𝙎𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙀   𝙎𝙃𝙀   𝙒𝘼𝙎   𝘼   small   child   ,   she   found   comfort   among   the   trees   .   they   grow   impossibly   tall   in   the   forest   that   climbs   up   towards   the   palace   she   was   raised   in   ,   reaching   towards   the   heavens   like   hopeful   children   with   outstretched   fingers   who   wonder   what   it   would   be   like   to   let   their   dirty   fingers   brush   a   pure   white   cloud   .   with   an   ever   -   expanding   forest   climbing   higher   ,   towards   the   castle   atop   a   towering   hill   ,   nature   itself   reaches   towards   the   family   with   veins   of   gold   and   precious   jewels   upon   their   heads   –––   what   is   the   intent   behind   the   trees   that   draw   closer   with   each   springtime   ,   unvexed   by   chilling   winds   ?   are   they   a   motherly   embrace   ,   seeking   to   build   one   more   wall   to   protect   those   who   wear   crowns   and   furs   ?   or   are   they   as   dangerous   as   every   peasant   who   has   cursed   their   name   and   longed   to   see   the   king’s   charming   smile   from   a   platter   instead   of   a   painting   ,   do   they   opt   for   smothering   over   beheading   as   they   draw   menacingly   closer   like   a   hand   around   a   throat   ,   sharp   branches   with   amber   leaves   covering   the   ground   below   in   shadow   ?   whether   protective   or   hungry   ,   they   draw   closer   to   an   ivory   palace   –––   and   the   girl   watches   from   her   window   ,   longs   to   slip   away   and   surround   herself   with   the   trees   who   reach   for   the   heavens   and   the   flaming   sun   that  is  gold  among  sapphire  and  pearl  while   she   finds   a   home   in   the   darkness   that  branches   cast   upon   the   floor   .   from   behind   a   window   ,   all   the   girl   can   do   is   wonder   if   the   king   will   wear   his   charming   smile   when   he   one   day   waves   a   hand   and   calls   for   the   trees   to   be   cut   down   as   easily   as   his   wife   has   made   sure   to   dispose   of   all   those   who   curse   her   husband’s   name   .   their   only   hesitation   when   claiming   lives   has   come   while   making   sure   it   is   done   in   secret   ,   and   no   one   dares   to   cross   them   now   –––   the   common   folk   have   learned   that   the   royals   seem   to   listen   in   through   the   ears   of   the   bronze   statues   that   depict   them   atop   winged   stallions   ,   or   crowned   with   blooming   flowers   .   in   every   image   ,   they   are   as   beautiful   as   they   are   magnificent   –––   mere   trees   are   negligible   beside   a   towering   palace   that   reflects   sunlight   as   though   it   originated   from   the   walls   themselves   ,   and   nature   itself   pales   before   the   visage   of   omnipotence   .   they   have   painted   themselves   as   almighty   beings   ,   superior   in   everything   from   the   fortress   they   call   their   home   to   the   gold   they   call   their   blood   ,   the   peasants   bend   their   knee   and   when   the   trees   surrounding   the   palace   sway   in   the   lily   -   scented   winds   of   springtime   ,   it   seems   as   if   they   ,   too   ,   are   bowing   before   the   gods   that   smile   among   men   .   she   looks   upon   the   other   figures   that   inhabit   the   throne   room   ,   the   same   ones   that   stand   beside   her   in   a   large   ,   gilded   portrait   –––   and   the   girl   knows   the   trees   ought   to   stand   tall   ,   not   bow   .

       ─────     𝙏𝙃𝙀   𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇   𝙃𝘼𝙎   𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙀𝘿   𝙐𝙋𝙊𝙉   her   own   reflection   too   many   times   to   count   .   in   the   water   of   the   ponds   she   has   found   when   sneaking   through   the   forest   ,   in   the   looking   -   glass   in   her   bedroom   while   a   stranger   weaves   pearls   into   strands   of   golden   hair   .   sometimes   she   looks   upon   herself   with   curiosity   ,   others   with   disdain   when   she   finds   traces   of   others   within   herself   ,   littering   her   visage   with   remnants   of   tainted   divinity   (   they   have   smudged   the   gold   with   their   own   fingertips   ,   every   time   they   used   their   own   mantle   to   wipe   away   crimson   droplets   or   the   corrosive   ink   used   to   slander   their   name   )   .   the   golden   mark   does   not   only   come   alive   in   the   dark   ink   she   uses   to   sign   her   name   on   the   bottom   of   parchment   ,   or   in   a   seal   emblazoned   upon   wax   .   it   lives   on   in   wide   eyes   ,   and   in   locks   that   catch   the   sunlight   just   like   the   ivory   of   her   palace   does   –––   except   she   does   not   make   it   look   blinding   ,   when   she   basks   under   the   warmth   of   sun   she   does   not   embody   helios   and   his   burning   chariot   that   would   blind   a   mortal   or   lure   icarus   into   damnation   .   rather   ,   she   wears   a   halo   with   the   gentle   glow   of   a   girl   who   has   not   grown   to   be   as   tyrannical   as   her   mother   or   as   avaricious   as   her   father   –––   yet   it   is   not   childlike   innocence   that   keeps   her   from   being   as   blinding   as   the   sun   itself   ,   but   control   .   she   is   ice   ,   and   she   chooses   when   to   let   the   sun   set   her   aglow   –––   just   enough   for   her   crown   and   god   -   gifted   halo   to   shine   equally   as   bright   in   deceitful   beauty   ,   enough   to   please   the   divine   beings   that   are   the   reason   why   gold   courses   through   her   rather   than   blood   and   why   rubies   ,   emeralds   and   pearls   litter   her   frame   like   freckles   .   it   is   control   ,   turning   her   calculating   smirk   into   the   sweet   smile   that   has   been   captured   by   oil  paints   ,   bronze   and   marble   .   youngest   among   her   siblings   ,   possessor   of   their   undeserving   crowns   nonetheless   –––   elders   will   trick   themselves   into   thinking   that   they   have   gifted   her   enough   freedom   to   roam   the   gardens   ,   the   cunning   girl   knows   better   .   she   has   seized   the   freedom   herself   .   it   has   been   her   hand   ,   like   a   thief’s   ,   laying   claim   to   what   she   craves   in   a   single   ,   deceitful   act   –––   she   slips   away   because   she   wants   to   ,   she   roams   the   forest   unguarded   because   there   is   no   true   freedom   under   a   guard’s   watchful   eye   .      it   is   only   in   shadow   ,   among   the   wildflowers   that   burgeon   in   soft   soil   and   the   impossibly   high   trees   ,   that   she   can   breathe   an   air   that   does   not   feel   heavy   as   dark   grey   smoke   with   the   expectations   ,   the   unspoken   truths   ,   that   make   the   air   inside   her   palace   reek   of   sulfur   .   the   people   there   are   neither   men   nor   gods   ,   they   are   volcanoes   –––   beneath   their   skin   ,   scorching   liquids   swirl   ,   burning   with   untold   secrets   and   hidden   plots   .   when   the   clouds   turn   darker   with   a   flickering   shared   glance   or   a   sneer   ,   the   girl’s   lungs   feel   the   air   growing   hotter   –––   she   knows   a   little   bit   more   ,   she   feels   the   earth   shift   beneath   her   feet   .   the   palace   grows   warmer   ,   in   turn   ,   she   grows   colder   .   there   is   lava   where   their   blood   should   be   ,   there   are   icicles   in   place   of   her   ribs   .

      ─────     𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙎𝙀   𝙒𝙃𝙊   𝘽𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏   𝙃𝙀𝙍   𝙐𝙋𝙊𝙉   this   earth   long   for   divine   ascension   ,   for   a   throne   of   celestial   bronze   rather   than   the   gold   of   mortals   –––   when   they   tilt   their   face   up   to   the   heavens   ,   it   is   with   a   longing   to   sit   upon   them   .   to   ornament   their   forms   in   jewels   that   are   incorruptible   ,   pulled   from   the   cores   of   burning   stars   by   hands   that   will   never   burn   ,   to   live   forever   among   the   constellations   and   know   their   names   will   be   lauded   after   centuries   .   the   girl   pulls   the   hood   of   a   brown   cloak   up   when   she   has   snuck   past   a   set   of   heavy   wooden   doors   in   the   servants’   quarters   ,   and   as   her   hand   reaches   forward   in   the   night   ,   she   longs   for   air   that   is   not   heavy   with   the   weight   of   duty   that   comes   alive   with   the   golden   crown   that   lays   forgotten   in   a   locked   box   in   her   chambers   ,   in   the   ornate   gowns   and   the   pearls   and   all   that   she   has   been   taught   to   navigate   from   the   moment   she   was   birthed   .   they   called   her   ginevra   ,   watched   on   with   pride   when   she   commanded   the   attention   of   a   coronation   room   where   nobles   held   their   breath   at   the   sight   of   a   girl   who   was   no   longer   the   child   they   had   underestimated   for   years   .   with   lessons   in   everything   from   etiquette   to   arithmetics   ,   with   manners   and   honor   diligently   inculcated   in   her   over   a   lifetime   ,   they   crowned   ginevra   a   duchess   –––   when   her   brother   died   and   her   sister   disappeared   under   mysterious   circumstances   ,   she   walked   down   the   center   of   the   palace’s   throne   room   once   more   .   not   in   springtime   ,   but   winter   –––   snow   stripping   the   branches   of   the   trees   outside   until   they   were   menacing   rather   than   inviting   ,   the   branches   reminiscent   of   skeletons   buried   underground   with   bloody   secrets   of   a   noble   family   that   will   forever   go   unspoken   thanks   to   early   ,   unmarked   graves   .   in   winter   ,   where   the   grey   clouds   suffocate   helios   and   let   his   chariot   roam   aimlessly   in   bitter   and   lonely   exile   ,   where   there   is   no   sunlight   to   stream   in   through   the   windows   and   give   ginevra   a   halo   –––   or   rather   ,   the   illusion   of   one   .   for   golden   hair   has   turned   her   angelic   in   the   eyes   of   those   who   do   not   know   that   her   true   nature   wears   neither   halo   nor   leathery   wings   ,   neither   benevolent   smile   nor   devious   smirk   –––   where   there   is   no   sunlight   to   entertain   the   nobles   with   pretty   illusions   ,   fooling   them   in   the   same   way   that   icarus   once   chased   that   which   he   would   never   grasp   (   for   if   they   try   to   take   the   hand   of   an   angel   ,   they   will   be   met   with   empty   air   )   ,   ginevra   takes   her   place   with   her   eyes   carrying   neither   pride   nor   misery   .   there   is   a   bone   -   chilling   void   within   her   gaze   when   she   sits   upon   the   velvet   of   the   throne   that   once   belonged   to   a   brother   who   is   no   more   than   a   ghost   ,   she   looks   as   though   she   were   dead   too   when   the   crowd   first   bows   before   her   highness   ,   princess   ginevra   .

     ─────     𝘼   𝘽𝘼𝙇𝙇   𝙄𝙎   𝙃𝙀𝙇𝘿   𝙄𝙉   her   honor   ,   she   greets   titled   strangers   who   also   call   themselves   divine   with   the   charming   smile   that   has   deceived   so   many   into   believing   her   an   angelic   being   rather   than   spectral   ,   slipping   through   their   fingers   while   they   were   entranced   by   the   secrets   behind   dark   irises   like   narcissus   gazing   into   the   enchanting   curves   of   his   own   reflection   upon   water   –––   enough   to   lose   his   life   and   turn   into   a   blooming   flower   ,   enough   for   them   to   fall   for   honeyed   words   spoken   through   an   illusory   smile   while   a   delicate   hand   reached   into   their   mind   and   arranged   thoughts   ,   weaving   a   tapestry   until   it   was   to   her   liking   .   ginevra   painted   a   picture   of   herself   like   a   graceful   future   ruler   that   they   would   respect   before   forgetting   about   altogether   .   though   her   roots   are   deeply   entangled   within   the   soil   of   her   kingdom   (   drawing   strength   from   the   trees   ,   and   beauty   from   the   wildflowers   ,   and   dark   corruption   from   the   skeletons   of   those   who   have   unjustly   fallen   by   the   steel   of   a   dagger   in   the   night   )   ,   ginevra   has   always   painted   herself   as   something   fleeting   –––   let   them   believe   that   the   pedestals   upon   which   her   statue   stands   can   be   toppled   ,   that   a   hammer   can   turn   her   marble   bust   into   a   fine   ,   ivory   powder   that   will   be   scattered   among   the   fresh   snow   with   a   gust   of   wind   carrying   the   sad   melody   of   a   fallen   princess   .   let   them   believe   her   fickle   and   forgettable   ,   falling   for   the   lies   ginevra   herself   whispered   into   their   ears   –––   let   them   leave   her   kingdom   one   day   and   return   to   their   own   palaces   and   manors   thinking   she   is   not   smart   enough   to   have   exhaled   illusion   and   inhaled   secrets   revealed   in   subtle   gestures   .   let   them   drift   off   into   sleep   in   their   own   chambers   ,   warmed   by   blankets   and   furs   that   lull   them   into   gentle   dreams   like   a   mother’s   lullaby   or   the   song   of   tides   at   the   shore   ,   while   the   princess   dons   dark   fabrics   and   slips   away   unnoticed   .   let   them   sleep   soundly   ,   thinking   the   breathing   statue   upholds   every   law   as   sacred   –––   while   they   dream   of   glory   or   power   ,   picturing   themselves   upon   the   golden   throne   claimed   by   a   girl   with   fair   skin   and   golden   hair   whose   eyes   seem   eerily   all   -   knowing   when   they   bore   into   theirs   ,   she   sneaks   out   .   for   ginevra   has   escaped   into   faraway   lands   and   distant   continents   without   leaving   the   palace’s   library   ,   but   she   knows   better   than   to   let   these   be   her   only   incursions   into   reality   .   visits   to   the   villages   are   carried   out   wearing   cloaks   embroidered   with   gold   as   thread   brings   her   family’s   crest   to   life   upon   her   chest   ,   with   a   towering   wall   keeping   her   away   from   the   villagers   she   rules   over   –––   as   always   ,   ginevra   observes   from   the   safe   distance   of   a   tower   ,   she   looks   on   from   behind   a   window   .   ginevra   is   too   smart   to   be   detached   from   the   board   that   her   game   pieces   move   upon   ,   for   her   nimble   fingers   are   the   ones   moving   the   pieces   –––   there   are   no   puppets   to   serve   as   intermediaries   ,   no   time   wasted   on   pulling   strings   ,   no   delusions   of   feet   upon   soil   or   cobblestone   .   she   has   been   raised   in   a   palace   ,   taught   every   dance   and   the   history   of   every   kingdom   ,   but   ginevra   knows   that   what   is   truly   worth   knowing   is   not   spelled   out   in   ink   over   parchment   for   all   those   with   eyes   to   see   –––   the   relevant   information   is   never   proudly   on   display   .   any   fool   can   bear   witness   to   the   gold   of   her   crown   ,   anyone   with   ears   will   hear   the   melody   of   her   title   being   announced   to   crowds   that   will   subsequently   bow   before   the   daughter   of   gods   ,   emperors   and   kings   .   none   will   ever   glimpse   into   the   contents   of   a   mind   that   is   protected   by   an   icy   skull   that   acts   as   a   vault   .   no   fingers   will   brush   against   the   icicles   that   form   her   ribcage   ,   snapping   them   in   half   to   peer   into   the   darkened   void   where   her   heart   ought   to   be   –––   for   the   truth   ,   the   secret   ,   is   that   ginevra   has   been   heartless   from   the   day   she   was   born   .   the   truth   ,   hidden   under   mantles   and   gowns   that   act   as   a   shadowy   veil   ,   never   to   be   touched   by   mortal   hands   –––   not   even   her   own   .   ginevra   turns   away   from   the   truths   that   live   within   her   chest   ,   longing   to   climb   into   her   throat   and   make   their   way   past   her   lips   .   for   now   ,   they   are   drowned   out   by   a   hollow   heartbeat   .   they   are   buried   where   nobody   can   see   –––   and   where   her   hands   press   onto   her   chest   every   once   in   a   while   to   ensure   that   it   is   still   freezing   to   the   touch   ,   they   long   to   unveil   the   secrets   of   entire   nations   .   the   tomes   in   her   library   ,   committed   to   memory   ,   will   never   tell   her   what   she   truly   should   know   :   how   to   preserve   her   rule   without   foreign   threats   breathing   close   enough   for   her   to   see   the   fog   before   their   lips   .   how   to   topple   kingdoms   if   the   need   arises   .

    ─────     𝙏𝙃𝙀   𝙉𝙀𝙒𝙇𝙔   𝘾𝙍𝙊𝙒𝙉𝙀𝘿   𝙋𝙍𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙎𝙎   𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙉𝙎   a   stolen   key   within   a   lock   ,   her   visible   breath   from   a   cold   wintery   night   the   only   trail   left   behind   ,   and   sneaks   past   the   gates   of   a   palace   .   she   has   committed   the   guards’   rotation   to   memory   as   easily   as   a   child   would   memorize   their   mother’s   lullaby   or   a   damsel   ,   her   lover’s   sonnets   .   she   knows   where   their   footsteps   will   fall   now   ,   though   ginevra   still   holds   her   breath   as   she   makes   her   way   to   the   trees   .   must   she   have   a   reason   to   slip   away   ,   other   than   the   deeply   human   desire   to   breathe   ?   when   a   palace   suffocates   her   and   she   turns   herself   into   a   fleeting   memory   that   will   fade   to   oblivion   ,   the   trees   are   reassuring   in   their   mere   existence   –––   they   remind   her   of   the   truth   behind   eternity   .   they   turn   forever   into   a   word   she   can   close   her   lips   around   ,   a   concept   that   enters   her   vocabulary   when   a   forest   stretches   out   towards   the   heavens   and   the   stars   twinkle   above   between   the   naked   branches   of   trees   in   winter   .   they   are   welcoming   still   ,   even   when   they   seem   so   skeletal   with   the   signs   of   life   stripped   from   them   ,   and   as   ginevra   inhales   deeply   and   breathes   in   air   that   does   not   smell   like   the   sulfur   of   corruption   or   the   incense   of   rituality   ,   she   closes   her   eyes   and   infinity   envelops   her   in   a   calming   ocean   in   which   she   can   float   .   it   carries   her   away   ,   towards   the   stars   ,   in   the   constellations   that   form   divine   palaces   greater   than   emperors   and   kings   could   ever   build   –––   peace   found   in   a   stolen   moment   ,   as   ginevra   claims   the   night   as   her   own   .   she   is   no   princess   ,   but   a   dryad   in   the   forest   .   her   dear   wildflowers   are   dead   ,   the   snow   chills   her   feet   and   betrays   her   presence   –––   the   brown   hood   of   the   cloak   she   wears   masks   her   identity   ,   and   this   is   enough   for   calm   to   wash   over   her   .   all   of   a   sudden   ,   the   breath   is   stolen   from   her   lungs   when   a   sharp   sound   tears   her   away   –––   she   is   no   longer   floating   but   drowning   ,   infinity   does   not   offer   comfort   when   the   movement   of   an   unwelcome   stranger   is   a   monster’s   hand   coiling   around   her   ankle   and   pulling   her   down   into   unknown   depths   where   danger   may   lurk   .   her   eyes   snap   open   ,   yet   it   is   her   only   move   for   one   pregnant   second   .   she   is   aware   of   the   snow   under   her   feet   ,   the   sound   behind   her   of   a   form   that   is   heavier   than   an   innocent   animal   ───   whether   it   is   amiable   stranger   or   someone   who   views   her   as   prey   ,   she   does   not   know   (   oh   ,   princess   of   vast   realms   who   is   studious   as   she   is   cold   ,   how   she   hates   not   knowing   )   .   above   all   ,   the   princess   is   aware   of   the   cold   steel   of   a   dagger   strapped   to   the   outside   of   her   thigh   for   her   own   protection   .   ❝   it   seems   that   i   have   company   .   ❞   her   voice   cuts   through   the   night   ,   quiet   yet   assertive   ,   as   the   princess   steals   ice   from   the   night   and   presses   it   to   her   tongue   .   she   shields   herself   in   winter   ,   and   though   she   wears   the   brown   of   servants   that   almost   lets   her   blend   into   the   trees   ,   snow   clings   to   a   woman   who   buried   the   girl   she   once   was   the   second   a   crown   was   first   placed   upon   her   head   .   ginevra   may   be   a   princess   ,   but   her   demeanor   is   that   of   a   queen   ,   an   icy   empress   ,   goddess   of   gold   and   ice   .   her   movements   are   slow   and   calculated   ,   identity   revealed   once   wide   eyes   find   those   of   the   stranger   who   has   wandered   into   the   same   space   –––   their   eyes   meet   ,   and   hers   flash   with   recognition   .   the   lines   in   their   features   are   ones   she   has   seen   before   ,   and   though   surprise   is   masked   under   a   visage   of   stoicism   ,   there   is   a   sign   of   her   awareness   in   her   next   movements   –––   hands   that   stray   away   from   her   thigh   ,   towards   her   features   …   as   they   slowly   lower   the   hood   of   her   cloak   .   ❝   i   know   who   you   are   ,   ❞   the   princess   whispers   ,   putting   an   end   to   the   silence   .   she   does   not   move   closer   ,   nor   does   she   run   away   .   under   the   moonlight   ,   the   strands   of   long   hair   are   almost   silvery   –––   she   looks   upon   her   unwanted   companion   ,   and   there   is   no   warm   sunlight   to   fool   them   into   thinking   ginevra   is   angelic   .   for   under   the   silvery   light   that   streams   through   dark   ,   skeletal   branches   ,   the   princess   at   last   looks   neither   like   an   angel   nor   a  demon   :   ginevra   is   a   phantom   ,   and   she   was   never   meant   to   be   seen   .

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Devil’s No 1(11)

Chapter 11: Lights

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: nothing much

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: sometimes I wonder if my dreams are just dreams or if they are telling me something. But telling a friend will be ill is still logical than showing me some ancient machine that controls the mechanisms of multiverse and leaving me there stranded with Captain America and what exactly?! What am I supposed to do there? Gaurd the multiverse? Keep a watch over them? Tell cap whenever I spot his husband and wife? What?!

It was the first time.

A first for him. First for you as well.

Comparisons were made of this very first with nearly everything first of nature.

The first bud blooming through a snow blanket. The first ember lighting up in the smoky twigs. The first ray of the warm spring sun. The first drop of dew falling from the trees on the cheeks. That's how your smile seemed.

Loki could have sworn you had never smiled in your life. That was until now when he stood beside you while you sat on the boulder, with- the usual- tears gathering up. Though this time, they did not reflect the colours like before. They reflected little twinkling lights trying to shine inside you.

Didn't seem like this devil knew how to smile. Loki's dimensions wanted to pull him away from your face but his eyes seem to be stuck on you, not coming off even if he wanted them to.

And you? You were stretching your lips even when it hurt because it felt good. So good.

Your inner voice, for the first time, was quiet for the moment, enjoying the picturesque Northern lights glowing in their green, pink and sometimes blue glory in front of you.

...but are we sure it's the northern lights that are making us feel so good right now.

There she goes.

It's the Northern Lights.

...so we're not going to talk about the-

"It's beautiful," you sputtered, trying to wrap your arms around your folded legs, adjusting yourself in the leftover snow crunching underneath your butt before catching a look at Loki and quickly steering your eyes back to the luminous dance.

"Hmm," Loki commented. You could still feel his gaze piercing through you. What was he doing?

"I've never seen one before," you continued, moving your one ring around your finger, twisting it as you floated through the thoughts running inside your head.

"Any special reason you wanted to see them?"

You closed your eyes and reran those words exactly as they were spoken, but in slow motion, tasting every click of the tongue, every twist of the lip inside your head; all of this swirling in an ocean of green.

"I always wanted to see them. Call it a child's curiosity-" you shrugged, opening your eyes to look back at the magic of nature- "even though science explained it all."

The icy wind wanted to play with your skin, coming within the intention of caressing it but running its nails right through your skin in the name of affection.

"I was supposed to see them last year," you muttered, more for yourself than for him, but it did not escape those ears that could hear the little flutter in your heartbeat and the shift in your body as you tried to bring your legs closer to you, your eyes now looking at some distant void that was nowhere near nature's light show.

"What happened? Curled into a corner at the last moment?" Loki scoffed, but his eyes were still frozen, emotionless, looking for a stir that his words would cause, as the crisp memories of your lips on his were doing to him.

There was a moment when you wanted to wallow in the memories of all that was gone. Just one tiny portion of time when you felt yourself looking down into the well of the past, waiting to take the plunge when a wave of chilly air stopped you and made you look at yourself.

"Do you want to do this?" It asked. And in the next gush of the moment, you were back on the boulder with snow all around you.

"My boyfriend left me," you announced.

You do not realise the surprise that jolted through Loki's vessel to hear those words thrown into the air without an ounce of remorse.

"Why?" The words were out of him before he could make sense of what was going on. His own being cursed him for suddenly feeling the need to unravel you instead of play when you were no longer his amusement but a mere soul wrapped in the alluring blaze of mystery.

"I don't know," you shrugged, scratching an itch on your cheek, "one day we were planning on visiting this place and the next day my life fell apart."

Loki remained silent.

"It seems funny now, though. I had planned for the whole day. Made an elaborate itinerary. And in the middle of the night, I get a call that my father was in a serious accident. Next thing I know I'm standing in the hospital as the doctors tell me the body is ready to be taken for cremation.”

A chill ran down the vessel whilst witnessing a void in those eyes that usually were a pool of emotions. Are humans not supposed to mourn their parents? But you continued like it was a story told by the campfire in the cold night to friends and strangers alike. Fiction. Made up. 

“Now, that’s not the end of it. My workplace calls me to tell me I'll be fired if I don't come in that very day. And I do that. All because the boss spilt coffee on the project I made and wanted a month’s work to be done in one night. I actually go back to work to be blackmailed by my boss to let him fuck me if I wanted to keep the job."

You paused, pulling out a rolled-up joint from your pocket. It amused a very engrossed Loki to think that you took the time to gather these and take them with you. And the lighter too.

A cough or two- thanks to the amateur that you were- later, you came back to where you left off.

"You know," you continued, "I didn't realise the meaning of the phrase 'bursting of veins' till that day. How do veins burst? Do they make a pop sound? Do they go woosh and spray all over? Or do they just run like a tap? I didn't know that a glass trophy could make you bleed like that, you know. That it could cause so much damage. I honestly didn’t know that. Anyway, Gary got what he deserved and I filed my resignation, a complaint to HR and a lawsuit against the company. And just when I thought my day could not get any worse, I found Bucky gone. No sign of him at my apartment. Like he was never there. Vanished into the wind...just like he came."

Your face reflected the dislike you were feeling for the taste this joint left in your mouth, already throwing the barely burned part into the snow. The Devil saw thousands of souls moan all around you who would give themselves to the devil for that one good drag. But they weren’t what he got cemented on.

"The fact that he left doesn't hurt as much as the timing, you see. And those stupid blue eyes that looked like they could show you the most beautiful oceans even if you did not know how to swim. Like they could paint this world in beauty just for you. He made you feel that way. Like he would do anything for you. From making you a grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast while you’re still asleep to finding Atlantis just because you were curious.”

The winds slowed down. The lights swung in an aphasic glow. You breathed in the cold air to let your lungs cool down a bit from all the reminiscence. Loki was sure he heard you mutter ‘idiot’ under your breath, something that broke him into a muted chuckle. He took a step towards you, his hands moving with a flow of their own, conjuring up a flowing overcoat before those fingers even touched your shoulders. The warmth of that fur instant made you cosy up inside it. Adjusting it all around you, you settled down in the ground with the boulder now as your support to lean on. The heat was slowly doing what it did best. So did the talking. The fact that eyes felt droopy made you content on the inside. It also made you turn towards Loki and smile.

“I know Gary wants me dead. I just don’t know if you have been in on it.”

With that, you turned back to the Northern lights and dozed off into the furry luxury within seconds, meeting your old partner slumber after ages of heartbreak and pain, breaking into its arms to let it take care of you.

Loki watched you for a while. He watched you, to see whether those colours changing around you could answer riddles that brewed in this sombre atmosphere of his existence when no one looked. He studied every eyelash to ask what he had done this time to make him stand face to face with fate this night. He witnessed every strand of hair dancing with the wind to suppress the need to scream at the sky.

Ultimately, he sat down next to your sleeping form, summoning the bottle of Jager from your place to finish in one go. Ignoring the shrieks of all other dimensions, he pressed his jaw hard, placed his hand on your head and inhaled as much as he could.

“So, Bucky,” he felt his jaw tick, feeling the memories resurge under his touch, “boyfriend my hellfire-”

[babblingblondegenius]

Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen is the HBIC of the Team Arrow way

Wow, it’s been an emotional week and this episode did me in.  Arrow is finally starting to feel more like Arrow.  I’m more in love with OTA/Olicity/Felicity than ever and I never want to let them go.  Grab a pint of mint chip and let’s dig in!

Episode 7x15 spoilers ahead>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I have to admit when Felicity announced her pregnancy last week, I was scared the writers would sideline her as a result.  So far, tonight proved those fears to be unfounded.  Felicity was actually more actively involved in the action than she has been since Oliver got out of prison.  I am kinda peeved that we didn’t get to see her deputized with the rest of the team (because the 150th episode was hot garbage for not recognizing her as a hero).  But in my head canon, Oliver was like ‘I’m not going out in the field with you incompetent idiots without my wife on comms. Periodt.’  And I think Felicity only agreed because there was no way she was letting her hubby go out in the field with incompetent idiots without her on comms.  This is not the face of someone who signed up willingly or gladly lol.

And, per usual, our certified genius is not wrong.  OTA does not belong at the SCPD and everybody flippin’ knows it.  They’ve saved the city countless times and are now treated like rookie cops.  While I commend Oliver for wanting to do things ‘in the light’ his mission has always been to make Star City safer, whether for his children or someone else’s children.  So basically, we wasted a lot of screen time to come full circle because by the end of the episode, the Team get to be vigilantes, but still work under the SCPD, which just seems to be a slightly more formal arrangement than they had with Quinton for years.  Also, I was giving DD some serious stink eye when she was lamenting losing everything.  Cause Felicity did lose everything and DD didn’t seem to care all that much.

Anyhoo, we waste enough time with them on-screen and I’m not spending any more time ranting about them.  Let’s move on to something that really matters...

Oliver’s ugly coat was no where to be seen and neither was oddly distant, fear of eye contact Oliver.  Is there a correlation?  Hmmm.....whatever.  Wherever they went, I hope they stay gone.  I vastly prefer the Oliver we saw tonight, looking adoringly at his wife, complimenting her smarts, working with her, kissing her, and I truly didn’t think it was humanly possible, but he is more smitten than ever.  Mint chip?  All you want, honey.  Still hungry?  He will go all Master Chef and whip a whole meal right up for her.  Does my stomach look bigger?  Major husband points for not saying the tiny bump she’s noticing is probably all mint chip at this point lol. Felicity Smoak is gonna rule his world for next nine months.

LOL, Flarrow coffee date Oliver had no clue that one day he would be expectant father Oliver and still happily doing whatever she asks because she’s so cute and he loves her so much.  #smoakedforlife   

Olicity had several conversations tonight that touched on how they are partners always and how their children will have them to lean on.  Beautiful sentiments but in the Arrowverse, we all know it’s foreshadowing that something bad is going to happen.  But the thing is, Arrow has already shown us the dystopian future with no Oliver Queen in sight.  Mia directly stated she grew up without her father.  We’re seeing the crap future in present time.  Maybe I’m still in deep denial or just wishful thinking, but I think if Oliver dies, something will happen to bring him back and change the present and/or future.  I just can’t fathom that his journey from billionaire playboy to tortured castaway to hooded vigilante to fully recognized hero ends in an early death and never seeing the future he fought so hard for--hanging up the hood, growing old with his wife, raising his children in a city that he made safer, and in a world made better by his heroism.  Felicity, who joined his crusade to help a man who was nice to her and given selflessly of her time, intelligence, and skills for seven years, and was the happy story of Oliver Queen’s life, should have her happy story with Oliver by her side as she makes a difference in the world through Smoak Tech.  They are a team.  Always.

Speaking of Smoak Tech, we got a Delicity scene that was reminiscent of the bond that used to exist between John and Felicity.  (Pod Diggle went away with ugly coat and pod Oliver, hopefully never to be seen again).   Diggle was happy and supportive when Olicity told him they are having a baby.  Oliver’s glowing face was kinda a dead giveaway but we’ll pretend Diggle was shocked lol.  Dig knowing the news led to him bringing Felicity what Lyla used for nausea when she was pregnant and in true Yoda Diggle style, praise and encouragement for the tech she is developing.  I have missed this dynamic so much and I am very glad the writers are finally remembering and respecting the history of this brotp.

Tonight’s episode was so good because it focused on the core three.  The show finally seems to shedding some of the extra weight it has been carrying for far too long.  Curtis and Diaz were a good start but I hope to see it pared down even more. There was a much better balance between the emotional scenes and the action scenes.  All they ever have to do is just write toward the dynamics that make this show work, that have always made this show work for the past seven years.  Honor and respect the history of Original Team Arrow.  It is my fondest hope that these last episodes of Arrow will do just that.  This started with the three of them.  It’s time we got back to that.  OTA forever. <3 <3 <3