Not quite cloud envy.

I'd put something meaningful here, but then I realized, I could just leave it like this. tracking: thatshogiguy please read rules & about before interacting

[thirdstartokonoha]

She’s perfectly aware he’s looking at her, but she doesn’t return the grace. She’s embarrassed, experiencing a deeper kind of embarrassment that she doesn’t know how to deal with, one that doesn’t feel bad, just maybe a bit overwhelmed. The way he looks at her isn’t something she’s sure she’ll ever get used to.

She’s better at the physical aspects of their relationship. Her instincts don’t desert her, chased from her head by something too like love for her to ever be able to meet his gaze. When she’s feeling particularly brave, she can manage it, but there’s still–always–the scent of his skin, the gooseflesh she can trigger just by dragging her fingers around for a few seconds, the hitch of his breath.

She’s in control with these things, but when he looks at her, when his voice is still usable, these are the times Temari truly can’t breathe.

The reprimand stopping her from looking at him never manages to fully form– his hand tightens around hers, and Temari looks. 

She doesn’t have a prayer of keeping the answer to herself.

“Yeah,” she almost ducks her head, “in some ways.” But even the quick addition does nothing to temper the honest response. “You know,” Temari gestures with her free hand, “I enjoy my work as an Ambassador. And– “ With no more words, Temari can only laugh quickly, once and quietly. Her eyes meet his again.

“And my boyfriend’s not bad, either.”

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

Her response is nonchalant - it’s always nonchalant. And he can’t help but to chuckle, if not a little appreciatively, because while they themselves may not be many in quantity, the unspoken emotion was abundant in her words. “Glad to hear it,” he responds, and he allows a flourish of amusement to blossom in his voice.

Konoha in the evening was always pretty: the skies would be streaked with hues of orange and gold before fading into a deep purple. There were only a few trace of clouds left, wisps that lingered here and there that tapered off into a hazy mist. In a few brief moments, he can’t help but to think the clouds are like , once: where they were once thick with doubt, perhaps even fear, now they were lighter - translucent, especially to her, as he had nothing to hide. 

And so he turns, with a faint trace of a smile on his face. “I didn’t reserve. Is there anywhere you wanted to go? I’m sure there’s some cuisine of ours you’re craving.” He lets the tease hang in the air as he gives her hand a quick squeeze. 

“In other words, you’re in charge.”

[thirdstartokonoha]

“Okay,” Temari breathes, “I’m satiated, for now–” Come the playful words preceded by a quick kiss to his jaw. “Let’s go, let’s go, I’m hungry.” It’s probably only because they’re near the door that Temari manages to slip her shoes on and get outside at all.

Being outside helps, Shikamaru’s still as cute by the setting sun, but she doesn’t want random passerby seeing his tongue in her mouth, so she gets a better grip on herself.

When it only takes her less than a minute to remember to take his hand–a little right comes out of her mouth–and less than a second for her fingers to slip between house, there’s another smile blooming on her lightly-flushed cheeks.

“So,” her voice is flippant, eyes catching his just from the side, “you missed me, I take it?”

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

She disengages herself from his clutches all too easily, and after he blinks she’s already got her shoes on. There’s definitely a tinge of irony that it can take her barely a second to be out the door, while he was waiting for several more than that, but he lets it slide. Besides, it isn’t as if those extra seconds werent - extemely - enjoyable. 

Against the deepening glow of  the sun, he can’t help but to think such a shade suits her skin. She’s faceted with bronze and gold, sun-bleached hair tainted darker - warmer, with hues of orange. 

And her eyes - molten teal that simply burned with passion, streaks of rustic notes contrasting the cool that lived in her gaze. Sharp, warm - twinkling not unlike a scarab in the desert sand.

He breathes. 

“Something like that,” he responds, and his voice is breathless even to his own ears. It takes some focusing for him to really anchor himself back into realtiy, for he swears even just looking at her makes him feel flighty, breathless. Her fingers have threaded themselves with his, her smaller yet no-less delicate palms pressed tight in his grasp. 

“And you? Have you missed being back?” His fingers squeeze reflexively; he doesn’t bother hiding the coyness that hangs on his cheek. He’s actually somewhat curious to know how she’d respond - if she’d be honest, or (the more likely option) if she’d brush it off. 

And in the latter case, they both know it would be a lie.

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

thirdstartokonoha:

One evening, every evening, every day– he could take his pick.

He reaches for her, takes her hand and closes the distance before she’s even realized her feet are moving toward him, and he’s still smiling. She places her hand against his chest, maybe because it feels like she’s going to push him away for a second, but then he kisses her and– all hope is lost for her sanity.

A blush to match his, a wide grin she can’t even pretend is anything less than dopey, and yet somehow her mouth still mercifully works.

“We don’t have to tell Ino I’m back,” words cascade from her upturned mouth–because she wants to tell him everything–untempered by her sense of propriety. Temari stands on her tiptoes and kisses him again, with never a thought given to either her feet, to push her up, her arm, to reach behind his neck, or her mouth to brush his lips.

They’d get to the date–eventually.

He grins against her mouth, her words nearly exactly what he wanted to hear. But as his tongue gets dangerously close to swiping along the bottom edge of her lip, he pulls back. Not because he doesn’t enjoy it - God, that couldn’t be further from the truth - but because he’d rather rein it in and truly savour it - later. 

But she’s right there, and so alluring, it’s all too easy to drop everything now and just be with her. Going outside ran the risk of unwanted visitors. So he pulls back but not without something on his face, which he thinks manifests itself into a smirk. 

“Now? Or later? As you’d said, we have all evening. Every evening.” 

He tries to resist the excitement that threatens to decorate his words, but he doesn’t quite succeed. 

[thirdstartokonoha]

Her pause in letting him in isn’t anything to do with, well, much of anything. She just wants to make him sweat.

And maybe part of her still thinks if she tells herself to calm down enough, she will. That if she holds his hand enough times, clocks enough hours of intimiate knowledge with his skin, seems him smile enough times, she’ll get better control of herself. As of yet–she opens the door–there’ve been no improvements.

Her own smile catches on her lips like a reflex, more thoughtless, it feels, than lacing her sandles, tying her obi, brushing her teeth, pulling relentlessly on the corners of her mouth. She just keeps from ducking her head only with the realization that there’s no use hiding he smile. There’s no use hiding anything from him, but perhaps especially how happy he makes her. He likely already knows, but Shikamaru’s genius brain probably likes reminders.

“Come in,” she says, catching his eyes one last time before she steps away from the door, “I’ll be a minute. My shower ran long.”

With that tidbit, she flounces away to the bathroom to pull her hair up. When she comes back, hair properly pulled into four ponytails, she finds she only has to catch his gaze for that stupid smile to come out again.

“What, no flowers?” She drawls, just a bit breathless.

Her carefully maintained distance is shrinking along with the force of her will to refrain from dropping herself into his arms, because okay maybe he’s not the strongest, but he’s hers and she’s missed him. Getting her at the gate this morning hadn’t really counted; what did a quick kiss mean compared to the absence of three months?

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

 The door swings open and he sees her for a second - maybe two, just long enough to see her own smile across her lips. Like two lovestruck idiots, he thinks, and he can’t help his chuckle as she bounces away. Stepping over the threshold used to be a bit intimidating, but now he’d grown used to it all: the marble counters and the pale tatami that lined the floor. He hovers by the doorway nevertheless, not because he wasn’t comfortable, but merely because he finds himself fine in his space in the corner. 

Her question catches him only the slightest bit offguard, but the teasing notes in her voice only causes his grin to turn to a smirk. 

“I’m allowed to have you for one evening before Ino realizes you’re back, I hoped,” he responds as she saunters up to him. He catches her hand in his and pulls her a little closer, until she could, for all purposes, be pressed up against him. 

“I’m happy you’re back,” he says seriously, though the smile probably offsets his intention. He pulls her in and steals a kiss for himself, decidedly longer than the fleeting one they’d shared at the gate. And as he pulls away he feels a small blush creep against the bridge of his nose - three months - too long, he thinks. 

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

TAG 5 PEOPLE YOU WANT TO KNOW BETTER;

TAGGED BY: thirdstartokonoha

TIME AND DATE: 8/14/2015 11:30 pm

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP A NIGHT: 5-7

LAST THING I GOOGLED: Journey Mural i’m p sure

NICKNAME: Jak

BIRTHDAY: July 13

GENDER: Female

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: hetero i’m p sure!

HEIGHT: 5′2

FAVOURITE COLOUR(S): mint green aqua sky blue

ONE PLACE THAT MAKES ME HAPPY:  tokyo

HOW MANY BLANKETS DO I SLEEP UNDER: one, sometimes two when it’s cold!

WHAT I’M WEARING RIGHT NOW: a tanktop (well ex teeshirt whos sleeves ive butchered) and jeggings

LAST BOOK I READ: taming of the shrew

FAVOURITE BEVERAGE: ginger ale i’m p sure

FAVOURITE FOOD: SUSHI

LAST MOVIE I WATCHED IN THEATERS: Age of Ultron

DREAM VACATION: already been but I’d love to go back to tokyo

DREAM WEDDING: Spring or Summer in a cool place; actually autumn weddings are lovely too 

DREAM PET: a frosslass 

DREAM JOB: Video game director OR major voice actress with a singing role

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

thirdstartokonoha

He stood outside of her door, waiting. 

The time for watches or any form of previous awkwardness had long since come and gone. Thank God for that -- for too long he’d waited with nervous breaths, a heat so tangible in his cheeks that they’d burned even while idling. His hands find themselves in his pockets, but more out of habit than out of a compulsive need to do something. Once, with her, he thought he’d always have to be doing, but now, three years later, he could relax. Stop worrying- stop thinking. 

He breathes. 

A calm washes over him again - and the ease of it is always somewhat surprising. He’d never once thought it would be this natural, this instinctive; for if he were true to himself he’d realize that - with her - it’d always been easy. Despite the fluttering hearts and the blurring emotions, deep down none of it was ever- well, not him. 

Being with her is easy. In a different way than he expected. Because sure they bickered from time to time but, at the end, there’s always that ache of a smile on his face - a smile that refused to leave. Because after their arguments their hands would find each other and though sorrys weren’t necessary they’d say them anyways, and then they’d smile. 

And all would be right again. 

Like now - he’s smiling. God, he catches himself smiling even after all this time, smiling even though he’s been standing out here for who-knows-how-long now, waiting for her to get ready, and still the curve of his lips never waver. 

But the smile is worth it. Because they didn’t just fight. No, Shikamaru was out here - waiting for a date.

A date.

And the smile widens further: at least he didn’t bring flowers. 

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

did you know that one time temari wet the bed when she was like 8? *whispers* never forget

“I have a feeling I should probably keep that one to myself.”

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

I’m inactive enough as it is. 

Yes, I do have a problem when people going around harassing people in their inboxes. This has bugged me before but I have always sideglanced it. However this reaches an entirely new level when other certain aspects are disregarded, and when it happens to one of my dearest friends. 

If characters are undefined by their media as “race-neutral”, then I have no problems with anyone choosing to portray a character as a certain race or identity. That’s fine - let it be that way. When the source material, however, chooses to portray a character in a certain race - be it white, of colour, or otherwise, that is indisputable canon. Everyone and anyone is allowed to bend with those limitations, but that’s bending to what they prefer, and frankly it’s wholly rude to say to the person that their choice of interpretation is wrong. 

I am consistently appalled by the mentality displayed on Tumblr. Characters who are white are “racebent” because representation but, when it is done in reverse, it’s racism. There’s a staggering double-standard there. For any canon character to be portrayed within a race - once you change their ethnicity and their background and claim it canon, you’re the one being - not racist, but frankly, rude and entirely hypocritical over the entire situation.

Characters can have blonde hair and blue eyes in a manga or anime franchise. Frankly it’s always been that way - look at all the big, more shojo mangas. Characters with bubble-gum pink hair and blue eyes and curled perms and do you honestly think any Japanese person has that? Without major plastic surgery, at least? And yet all these characters are indisputably Japanese based off language and cultures and, essentially, everything aside from appearance. Are you going to tell me Taiga isn’t Japanese, because of her reddish hair and brown eyes? And those are slice of life genres, not fantasy ninja universes like Naruto. For all we know, they are Japanese for “easy” sake but are otherwise an entirely different “race” and culture from what we know. Hell, it’s even confirmed, but for the most part they are Japanese. 

Face claims are face claims. Please find me a blonde haired green eyed Japanese actress with the same facial structure as Temari with the same bushy hair, and then we’ll talk. Even then, you’re speaking to roleplayers, who have every right to “bend” their characters to suit what they want. It’s an opinion. It’s not being offensive. And yet, you’re being the offensive one by trying to not only berate the choice in portrayal, but enforce your own onto them. Provide me absolutely flawless proof that your character is accurately of that culture, and if I cannot poke 2394 holes into your theory while backing up the fact that said character is their own culture, then I may reconsider. But for now - every Naruto character is Japanese, in fact - their own subset in cultures - Suna, Konoha, etc. And trying to convince me otherwise - and this will blow your brains - will make me turn my finger on you and call you a racist. 

[thirdstartokonoha]

When he pulls back, the first non-Shikamaru thought she has is that her toes hurt. But it’s only a second, and then it flits away, gone, chased from her head by his smile.

Her lips, readjusting to open space, her body, close enough to his to notice the difference when he breathes, her mouth, speaking before she thinks.

“If that’s your way of asking if I’ll have sex in the woods the answer is no.” She grins, managing to press herself closer to him so that her mouth is at his ear. “Not without precautions.” Teasingly, she places a quick kiss on his ear, then a harder nip on his neck.

“But we should–” Temari takes a deep breath, moving to hold his hands in hers, “we should talk, or something, right? Something other than have sex.” She valiantly fights a large smile the whole time, unsure even if she’s kidding and unsure who he will take it. Half the thrill of Shikamaru is how he chooses to respond to things.

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

He sighs, not because it was what she was hoping for, but more because he knows she’ll move away soon. So he tightens his grip, just barely so the muscles in his fingers roll once, and he has long realized that he really didn’t care how Chouj saw him - whether in the middle of making out or making love with his girlfriend. 

He lets a chuckle out then, just a small grin and a smaller sound from his lips that touches his heart the same way she does. He locks his fingers behind her back, his mouth caressing the bed of blonde hair on the top of her head as he speaks. “What, no wild romp in the woods? Disappointing. And here you’ve just set the scene.” 

He wrinkles his nose. 

“But yes. Talk. Diplomatic things. You are going to clean that up, aren’t you?” He points his nose in the direction from which she came, where some poor body still lay in tatters after crossing the wrong border. 

[thirdstartokonoha]

She can’t find it in her to be embarrassed between the kissing, the hand holding, and the miraculous removal of that god-awful vest. He also makes no move to pull away, so she interprets his cue as continue and stands on her tiptoes.

To steady her, it’s of course necessary to feel him up in the process, hand against his chest.

Through the kiss, low-burning passion aside, she can’t help but notice that his hand is in a very boring place. Chouji’s inevitable return and the possibility of her own teammates finding her keeps her mostly in-check, though her hand slides down his torso until it finds purchase at his hip.

It’s a confusing picture, half-sexy and half-sweet, but Temari loves this about Shikamaru. She loves many things about Shikamaru.

She wants him because of them all.

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

Her touch is as electrifying as always, and without the extra layer of vest it only made it all the more prominent. Tangible. Poignant sparks that dance from her fingertips, until it rests at his side, his hip, lithe fingers warm against the caress of fabric. 

And he can’t help his grin, as his tongue swipes across her lip. He pulls her in closer, so that she fits almost perfectly against him. She herself is warm, pressed comfortably to his torso, making it all to easy to access other areas of her body. He settles instead with running his fingers up and down her spine, before he pulls back for a breath of air. 

“So how flustered are we making Chouji this time?” 

He really can’t help the smile on his face, as his head spins for the need of air, from the thrill of their kiss, from their close proximity he thinks it’ll take a lifetime to begin to get over.

[thirdstartokonoha]

She’s far too pleased to be in his arms again, but at least he can’t see her face right now. She has a moment to smile and keep it—and her fluttering heart—to herself.

After a moment, she pulls back just slightly, compensating by slipping her free arm around his waist.

“Don’t wear this, and I will.” She says, briefly leveling a dispassionate stare at the zipper of his chuunin vest. Her eyes meet his again, and in her sudden slight panic, she kisses him in the hopes that he doesn’t figure anything out.

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

She speaks, and perhaps she thought the kiss would drown the fuzz of sound and whir of brain processing the information, but neither is true as her implication registers despite the sudden distraction on his lips. Not that he minds, though, as his mouth quirks upward and enthusiastically responds, soft and pressing and he can’t help but to think that she’d probably just killed someone. 

And, ever to his surprise, he wouldn’t have her any other way. 

He obliges, then, as he lets go of one of her hands and reaches for the buckle clasps on his shoulders, and two quick snaps and a little close-comfort wiggling later and the vest comes off not unlike a sweater, but not a vest  in the same way the old uniforms were. 

It’s as if he’s a child, though in a different way than his own childhood, but rather a child if he weren’t a ninja. Chaste romances, exhilaration that flares through his bones as he presses back again, eyes closed instinctively and drinking in every moment of her lips, her presence, her. 

God, he was so far gone, so totally head-over-heels that he couldn’t even muster up the dignity to mentally chastise himself.

Might as well keep kissing her, then. 

[thirdstartokonoha]

Noticing the slight shift of his shoulders when he grounds himself against the tree, she doesn’t bother keeping a respectable distance.

“This is basically a dress.” She disagrees. “And that old yukata I used to wear was even closer to a dress.” He’s smirking, she’s smirking, and the world is smoothly melting away.

“Maybe you will one day.” Instinct thrusts past stubbornness and her hand comes to lightly trace his bicep. “I wear dresses off-duty, after all.”

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

Her finger is nice, following the contour of muscle, much more pleasurable than it should have been. But he’s a bundle of nerves, and he sincerely wonders if her touch will never elicit such a reaction. 

His hand catches hers easily, and with one tug he pulls her closer, lifting his hand - and hers, by proxy - off to the side. The other hand catches her back, resting comfortably along the curve of her body. 

“Then you should visit more often,” he says quietly, more into her hair than not.

[thirdstartokonoha]

A laugh, carefully disguised as a snort. He’s blunt when he wants to be.

“Don’t tell me blood still makes you squeamish?” She cocks her head, clicking her tongue. “I happen to look good in red.”

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

Concentration becomes a scarcity, especially as she mozies up to him, her hips sashaying as she walks. As if he didn’t notice. 

But his swallow doesn’t come thick, instead he’s pleasantly surprised to the opposite. He grounds his feet into their place against the tree trunk, instead allowing a smirk to decorate his lips. 

“Oh? I’ve never seen you in that colour. Or a dress, for that matter.” He truly allows the smirk now. “Shame.”

[thirdstartokonoha]

“As if I’d risk the treaty like that.” She tosses her head back, scoffing.

She closes her fan with practiced grace and makes her way over to him, smirking now. “What are you doing so far from the village?”

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

His lips twitch a little, barely a smile. 

“Patrol. Chouji is... somewhere.” 

He makes himself comfortable against a tree. 

“And you? A little early to be -” his eyebrow arches. “ - cutting people. Nice that your wind at least prevents you from getting blood all over your face.” 

[thirdstartokonoha]

that-shogi-guy liked for a starter

“Fancy seeing you here.” She turns to face him, grin emboldening her face, stance casual with her fan out as though she hadn’t just cut someone in half.

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

His eyes pan from her face - to her leisurely posture - and then to her fan, opened and poised. 

“I trust whoever was on the receiving end of your fan wasn’t a konoha nin.” 

He leans a bit onto one leg, his arms folding. 

[thirdstartokonoha]

Read More

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

To say he was focused would be an understatement; in his current mind he hardly believed anything would manage to drag him out of the moment. As her fingers quite literally rip through fishnet stockings, he realizes that there is something more appealing than the material that clothed her legs: the same material ripped. But the clothing doesn’t remain on her for long, they tear away and join the pile of clothes by the floor, and with that, his concentration returned.

She’s saying something – his mind registers words and syllables in a voice definitely not of the timbre he was used to hearing – but her lips find his once more. Whatever attempts his mind tried to make dissolve with the resurgence of her mouth, gentle caresses wiping his mind back to a blissful blank. That is, until she lifts her mouth once more, and he blinks, before it fully registers.

He knows she’s right, and he definitely wants this – he wants this so badly – and for half a second he almost declares the act of finding a condom to be too troublesome. But that notion fades away swiftly, partially to his own surprise, because of how much he wants her. Wants this. In hindsight, it was almost amusing to him, that his own willingness to comply was a testament to how much he did desire – love ­­­– her.

And so he smirks and flips her, giving a chaste kiss on her lips before he backs his head away. He notices it then, the discolouration of her neck, and for whatever reason a bit of pride seeps into his veins. Shikamaru would’ve never called himself prideful, but the satisfaction – the knowledge that she was his, even if it were just for this night – jolts through his veins, joining the jumbled mass of nervousness, arousal, and excitement – and he swears he’s probably bouncing as he walks to his room.

But he makes it quick, running a hand into his drawer to grab the unopened box. And then he returns, her still on the couch, and his eyes rake over her form once. He didn’t get a chance to appreciate her form, in its state of nakedness, in between the kissing and the touching. She’s beautiful, he realizes, or rather it was something he’d always known, from the way her clothes would hug her body, fit nicely around her curves, a type of “lean” that was unlike his own, scrawny lean. A warrior, and not one trapped within a woman’s body – as was his perception of the concept before. No, she was the warrior, through and through; and thus a strange humbledness joins the mess of emotions churning within him.

He swallows that down easily enough, instead placing the condom on the table beside them. Still adorned with present paper, he grins. It’s not forced – to his own surprise – and it’s not unnatural. Despite what he initially thought, they weren’t man or woman, as perhaps he intended, but still Shikamaru and Temari. And that thought didn’t scare him.

Shikamaru can grin and smile at Temari. So he does. And the teases are natural, unashamed despite their current state of being.

“So we’re just going to have sex on the couch? Not how I imagined my first time.”

He waves the condom in his hand, his erection not apologetic, his grin so wide he swears his cheeks hurt.

[that-shogi-guy-blog]

Someone asked me who I was *currently banging*, and without thinking about it, I said you. But I love you too and stuff?

well I mean, why would I be offended? 

It's not wrong