i guess that makes it...smoulder

anonymous asked:

can you do a retelling of the myth of persephone/proserpina/not persepolis/proroosoeprrpg? you could just call her persephone though w.e xx

Here is the myth of Not Persepolis. Those of you who want to skip a myth about the underworld getting a dandy makeover should press J on your keyboard now as this is quite a long post. I have no idea why you would want to skip such a bitchin’ story, though. 


Salient historical / literary info is to be found under the Read More, as always. There is a trigger warning for discussion of rape in this Read More.


Nice Guy Hades and Persephone Do Interior Design in Hell


A long time ago, in a quaint little town called Ancient Greece, there lived a goddess named Demeter, who is honestly only a supporting character in this whole saga, but is as good a place to start as any. Basically, Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, which sounds like the lamest thing ever to have on your CV, but when you think about it, it has some definite elements of radness. She’s not just your average Farmer Joe with two wives and a kid, she actually controls all the seasons and shit. All those times you’ve got your hair done and walked outside and immediately got pissed on by rain with the fury of a thousand marathon runners? Blame Demeter. Anyway, Demeter has a smokin’ hot daughter named Persephone, because Greek gods didn’t give two flying fucks about making names easy to type in a hurry, and Demeter and Persephone are totally cool with each other. Like, they’re basically Regina George and her mother in Mean Girls, but if Regina George’s father was also her uncle and her mother was also her aunt, because Greek gods also didn’t give two flying fucks about family trees that more closely resembled family circles.

Anyway, one day, Persephone is frolicking around in the lush green meadows of her earthy home, when suddenly this massive black chariot pulls up alongside her and this pale dude leans out of one of the windows and he’s wearing a fedora and sunglasses and a black tank top and he’s got this tattoo on his left bicep that says ‘DEATH: NOT BAD, JUST MISUNDERSTOOD’ and he looks at her over the top of his sunglasses and says “how you doin’” and Persephone shudders because the air has just got really cold and a bit deathy and also this guy is creepy and a bit deathy too, but he can’t take a hint at all and so he says “I’ve got a really great pick up technique that I learnt from this guy who’s currently banned in Australia, do you want to see it? I’m Hades, by the way, and I’m a nice guy really” and Persephone looks around nervously but she can’t see Demeter, who’s probably busy touching corn and shit, and so she just shrugs, and the guy leans out a bit further from his chariot and literally picks her up and throws her into the seat next to him and then the chariot sinks right down into the ground and suddenly they’re not in the lush green meadows any more, they’re in this horrible craggy wasteland that stinks of decomposition and armpits and there’s no natural light at all. Basically, they’re in a student bedroom. 

. Immediately, Persephone is like “you know what, that pick up line sucked, I am so not charmed by this” and Hades is like “welcome to Hades, bitch” and Persephone is like “did you really name this place after yourself” and Hades is like “who even knows, really, but it’s a fucking rad name, right?” and Persephone is like “are those fingers hanging from the wall?” and Hades is like “yeah, it’s my festive bunting” and Persephone nods slowly and says “and is that lampshade made from a severed head?” and Hades is like “two, actually, I got a dead maid to sew them together into a grotesque parody of that tragedy / comedy mask and I think it’s pretty bitchin’” and Persephone is like “well, that’s all well and good, but do you honestly expect me to live here? I mean, there’s literally a sofa made out of decomposing feet over there”  and Hades pouts and he’s like “that’s my rad make-out sofa, never used but often stroked, but I see your point, maybe this place just needs a woman’s touch” and then he winks and says “you know what else needs a woman’s touch? My dick” and Persephone wrinkles her cute button nose and says “this place doesn’t need a woman’s touch, it just needs some mood lighting and maybe a feature wall” and Hades says “you are honestly making it so hard for me to make dick jokes right now, but you make a valid and salient point, how about I hire you as my interior designer and also my wife?” and Persephone is like “I honestly don’t think I want either of those positions” and Hades shrugs and says “I could make such a good dick joke about that sentence, but I want you to know that I’m also a caring and sensual individual and not just a hilariously laddish cad, so I’ll let it slide this time, but also I’m really upset about it and so I think maybe you should just stay here for a bit and think about what you’ve done”  and Persephone is like “can you elaborate on ‘a bit’ because I have a lunch date at 7” and Hades is like “I’m torn between two hours or forever, which would you prefer? Ha, just kidding, it’s going to be forever, if I’m honest” and Persephone is like “do I get a say in this matter at all?” and Hades is like “obviously not, you’re a woman in Greek mythology and I just kidnapped you in my manly chariot” and Persephone sighs and says “fine, if I’m stuck here, then can you fetch me 6 tins of matte emulsion paint in Coral Canyon 7?” . A little while passes, and over time, Persephone starts to really spruce the place up. Nothing major, she doesn’t totally renovate the kitchen or do anything whacky like move the master bedroom into the lower torture chamber, but pretty soon the whole of Hades is full of the delicious smell of gently smouldering scented candles and there are throw cushions on the sofas of severed heads and the disembodied spirits of the recently departed have started to feel really at home here, and it’s all down to Persephone and her natural eye for feng shui.  .. Meanwhile, up in the lush green meadows of earthly frolicking, Demeter is freaking the fuck out. She’s just sort of wandering about the place and moaning desolately about her missing daughter and bodily autonomy and the best way to harvest crops when you’re so depressed that you can’t even see the point in living any more, and honestly, her bitchy attitude is starting to bring everyone the fuck down. All the harvests are shit, because Demeter’s too depressed to give half a damn, and the seasons become cold and empty, like that mini ice age in Frozen that lasted like 3 days but was still definitely eternal because it was caused by a depressed magic woman. . Eventually, Zeus gets fucking tired of this shit, because he has some hot chicks to lay and the eggs aren’t hatching in the snatch like they oughta because it’s so cold that he can barely get it up, and so he goes to visit Demeter and he’s all “yo sis, what the everlasting shit is going on, I’ve got this really smouldering chick in my bed and I can’t even ravish her any more” and Demeter is like “sorry bro, I guess I’m just really depressed because our brother has kidnapped our daughter and I think he might try and wife her and it’s just too much incest for me to deal with on any level” and Zeus just blinks and says “so you’re my sister and Persephone is your daughter but she’s also my daughter?” and Demeter nods and Zeus says “and Hades is our brother?” and Demeter just nods again and Zeus makes a mental note to invent the Jeremy Kyle show, and then he immediately has an idea.  “Why don’t you quit your womanly bitching and go down to Hades and get your daughter back?” he says, and Demeter is like “hold on, she’s your daughter too” and Zeus is like “yeah, yeah, I’ll cut you a cheque for the child support I missed, now get your peachy lil’ ass down to Hades and claw back our spawn, and I’ll go back to the woman in my bed who is definitely not my sister” and Demeter says “is Hera the hot woman in your bed?” and Zeus puffs out his chest proudly and says “the one and only” and Demeter says “she’s your sister too, bro” and Zeus deflates like a sabotaged condom and goes right into Hades himself. . When Zeus gets into Hades, he’s immediately struck by the recent appearance of a tasteful baroque fireplace that Persephone has erected in the main reception room. Hades serves him a dry martini from an authentic vintage brass platter, and Zeus is all “this place looks great, man, did you get on a Living TV show or something? What’s your secret?” and Hades is like “nothing like that, man, no TV deals, just the unwilling daughter of Demeter” and Zeus laughs nervously and sets his dry martini down on an understated but classic vintage chest of drawers with turquoise beading around the handles and says “yeah, about that unwilling daughter of Demeter thing, is there any way on Earth that you could maybe give her back?” and Hades is like “Hades no, this place has never looked so good, have you seen the bearskin rug in the fingernail room?” and Zeus just presses on, like “Demeter has turned the entire of the upper realm into something even worse than this place used to be, and I’m not sure if you’ve ever tried getting someone in the mood for doin’ the do when the ground is covered in ice, but it ain’t easy” and Hades is like “I don’t care if Demeter turns Earth into a grotesque parody of Manchester, you’re not getting Persephone back, she’s my favourite niece-wife”. . Zeus just sighs and says “Hades, there is only one way that you are ever going to keep Persephone here, and there’s no way you’re going to manage it” and Hades is like “what do I have to do?” and Zeus is like “I’m not telling you, it’ll only upset you” and Hades says “do I have to wade through the deepest oceans in the world with no scuba gear, because I will” and Zeus is like “no, it’s worse than that” and Hades says “do I have to defeat 7 deadly bears with nothing but my bare hands and a Barry Manilow CD, because I will” and Zeus is like “no, it’s worse than that” and Hades is like “do I have to lather myself in oil and wrestle naked with Hera, because it’ll be tough, but I will” and Zeus is like “no, but the only thing that will keep Persephone here - which we don’t want, Hades, so don’t fucking do it - is if she eats or drinks anything while she’s down here. Like, as long as she starves herself, I’ll be able to summon a totally pimpin’ army to come and rescue her, but if you feed her so much as a mouthful of milk? Done. I can’t do anything. So, you know. Don’t do that. That would be supremely uncool” and Hades throws his hands up innocently and says “I won’t feed her anything, I promise, now how about you go and summon that pimpin’ army of yours and I’ll go and help Persephone paint the en-suite flesh pantry? We’re going to be using Cappuccino 5.” . As soon as Zeus has left, Persephone comes around the corner and she asks Hades “who was that nice muscular chap?” and Hades is like “literally no-one, now come over here, you look really tasty and also hungry” and Persephone is like “well, I’ve been here for months and you haven’t so much as offered me a morsel to eat apart from your dick, so what gives now?” and Hades is like “my thin veneer of uncaring masculinity is crumbling around me and I’ve started to give a shit about your well-being, now do you want one of these delicious pomegranate seeds?” and he holds out his hand and offers her the aforementioned pomegranate seeds, and she blinks and says “that is literally all I want in the world” and she eats them and then suddenly Demeter appears and Hades is like “where is Zeus and his pimpin’ army?” and Demeter just roars “I am the army, bitch, now where’s my daughter” and Hades shoves Persephone at her and says “here is your daughter, or should I say, here’s my WIFE” and Demeter looks at Persephone, who has pomegranate juice smeared all over her face like a fucking child, and her heart just sinks because not only has she raised a slovenly child who can’t even eat fruit seeds without making more mess than a Tory document on foreign policy, but she realises that her daughter has eaten in Hades and can never leave, and that’s even worse, though not quite as bad as that time David Cameron made a speech about austerity at a five course meal while wearing a tuxedo.  . Immediately, Demeter calls for Zeus, who appears wrapped in a bed sheet, hair all sexily tussled from being interrupted mid coitus (because Zeus is always mid coitus, unless he’s immediately pre or post coitus) and Zeus looks at Persephone and just sighs heavily and says “Hades, I swear to myself” and Hades shrugs and says “don’t hate the player, hate the game” and Demeter is like “if we don’t sort this shit out soon, I am going to plunge the world into an eternal winter and rename myself Elsa” and Zeus is like “no, don’t do that, Demeter is a rad name and also winter totally kills my game and that’s all a pimp really has, can we maybe come to a compromise here so I can return to the wanton sister in my bed?” and Hades and Demeter just look at each other, one thread of sibling love joining them together for the barest of moments, and nod.  . So, Zeus is like “I can’t change the whole ‘don’t eat the seeds of Hades’ rule - ” and then Hades mutters a dick joke, and the thin thread of sibling love is snapped again - “but I can sort of bend it, like a boss who’s been caught groping his secretary and manages to get 6 months’ suspension and sexual harassment seminars rather than losing his job and his shares in the company. How about we say that Persephone does get to return to the surface, but only for 6 months of the year?” and Persephone pipes up like “what about the other 6 months?” and Zeus says “you stay down here for the other 6 months” and Persephone is like “awesome, I had really great ideas about installing a water feature in the lean-to of arid torture” and Hades and Demeter sort of mumble their agreements and Zeus dissipates in a fog of sex appeal, leaving Persephone and her husband-uncle and her mother-aunt to sort their shit out, which, to be fair, will definitely take more than 6 months.

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anonymous asked:

lily trying to seduce james when he has a test to revise for/essay to finish

So I got this prompt like 3 months ago but a) I’ve never written something overly explicit and b) I’m forgetful af and c) today is the limes network’s battle and I thought I’d use this to contribute to the happy side. Hope you like it (it’s not very nsfw)!

The thingabout NEWT level Arithmancy was that it was hard. Really, really hard. James had been regretting his decision to carry on with the godforsaken subject ever since the beginning of the year, and with the additional pressure of being Head Boy, the fact that this was his last year to get the Quidditch Cup and the war brewing just outside Hogwarts’ doors, James really couldn’t be bothered with his homework.

And yet. His father – upon his deathbed, mind you – had made him promise to continue to work hard, not to lose hope just because one of two of his parents were gone. He has to set an example, doesn’t he? James needs these grades for a job.

So he struggles on, hoping against hope that the seemingly ever-growing pile of questions in front of him will diminish. It doesn’t, of course. Although a Vanishing Charm may be one flick of his wand away, he doesn’t reckon that would go over very well with his professor.

He’s been working through it methodically for a brief twenty minutes or so when Lily appears in the doorway.

The Heads’ office is a sort of safe haven for the two of them, away from the perpetual racket in the rest of the school. It’s a place for work, but also for the two of them to just be.

It’s supposed to be peaceful, anyway. Which is exactly why James is so surprised when Lily enters with the top two buttons of her white shirt undone, robes and jumper nowhere to be seen and skirt considerably shorter than usual. His eyes glance over the line that her thigh-high socks draw on her knees, skims up to the exposed skin at her neck and chest, and he wonders what exactly she’s up to.

“Who’ve you been snogging?” he teases, hand flying into his hair as it always does when he’s flirting with her, or trying to. Hers is wavier than usual, almost deliberately dishevelled, as if she knows exactly where the princess curls that rest on the tops of her breasts are sending his mind. (Straight down the gutter, if that wasn’t clear enough.)

She grins toothily; walks towards his place on the sofa. James swears that her hips are swaying more than usual. “No one but you, of course.”

“Good answer, Evans,” he says, staring at the way the dark eyeliner that rims her eyes makes them smoulder, before he catches sight of his quill. James groans.

“What?” she asks, perching beside him. He speculates idly over whether or not she’s deliberately brushing her leg against his.

“I’ve got a fucking mountain of –“

“Let me guess, Arithmancy?”

As James’ close friend of at least a year and girlfriend of five months, Lily is well aware of his unfortunate situation when it comes to the dreaded subject.

“How in Merlin’s name did you guess?” he deadpans, pulling slightly on his hair as if it will make him concentrate.

“Can I help?”

He shows her the question he’s stuck on, to which she winces. Having had the foresight not to take Arithmancy (it was apparently too similar to her least favourite subject at Muggle primary school, Maths), Lily can’t really offer any advice to him. “Sorry, James,” she says instead, tone sympathetic. He watches her fingers curl softly around his hand, and her thumb begins to knead circles into his palm.

Before he can say a word, she leans in, going straight for his lips and pecking them softly once before peppering a string of kisses down his jaw. He holds back a groan and protests weakly, “Lily, this is due in half an hour.”

“Half an hour? When did you get it?” she murmurs the question whilst kissing the shell of his ear, a move that renders James almost speechless.

He mumbles back a sheepish, “Last Friday,” before his lips are caught between hers once more. Against his better judgement, James’ hands move to her waist, fingers bending into the dip below her ribs. He feels her hands twist around his neck and slip down to his shoulders, and he lets out a little hum as she massages the knots there.

“Has anyone,” he mutters between kisses, “Ever told you that your hands are magical?”

She smirks against his mouth and pulls away for a second to smile at him and say, “Well, I have this boyfriend who says that a lot, actually. The thing is, he’s always busy because he’s very smart and popular – not that his ego needs anymore boosting –“ James kisses the sarcastic remark off her lips, “And he works. Too. Damn. Hard.” She punctuates each word with a kiss (on his cheek, his nose, his lips) and a dig of her index fingers into his stiff back.

“I don’t think I work hard enough, really,” he considers, revelling in the way his muscles seem to relax instantly at her touch, “I should have done this ages ago, but –“

“But it was the full moon and you are a better friend than student, I know,” she rolls her eyes, “James, your teacher isn’t going to murder you if you don’t do half of your homework for one week.”

“But –“

She bites down softly on his lower lip, transforming his objection into a sigh. His eyes flicker shut of their own accord, and he takes a deep breath before kissing her, hard. His tongue curls around hers and his hands are sliding up, away from her waist to undo her third button, and maybe their teeth bump once or twice, but James could not care less.

He has a beautiful girlfriend practically sitting in his lap; she is one of his favourite people in the world. And from the way her skirt is slowly slipping further up her thighs and his breathing is already increasing in pace, it doesn’t look like they’re stopping anytime soon.

And so they don’t. James waltzes into Arithmancy exactly thirty five minutes after (he’s vaguely aware of his lateness, but the amount of effort it takes to leave Lily is far too much), with a new spring in his step and his half-finished homework stuffed messily into his open bag. The teacher barely bats an eye. Instead, she tells him to sit down, do up his tie – he hadn’t even realised that it was draped around his shoulders – and get his books out.

The professor doesn’t even ask for his homework after all that, and as James collapses into the seat next to a smirking Sirius who passes him a note, – “I assume this is Evans’ doing?” – he cannot think of a half an hour he’s spent better in his entire life.

Smoulder Chapter 7

Here it is folks! @artsyfartsyana @miraculousdays @xayti

In which I write the most epicly in-your-face symbolism I’ve ever written and I have no regrets cause I LOVE IT.

Read from the start on AO3 or FF.NET

Chapter 7

“You have to find me first.”

As soon as she let the words slip from her tongue, Ladybug felt a rush of anticipation spread from her toes, through her stomach, all the way to her lungs. She let out a quivering breath but stood her ground nevertheless, watching and waiting for Chat Noir to react. She hoped he would say something soon. After all, she didn’t regret her words…yet. That all depended on him.

Except Chat didn’t seem to be moving at all. The night stilled. The world fell away until it was just him, gazing at her with eyes of creeping moss, and her, standing in the reflections of a giant stained glass window. Her in the light, him in the shadows. Ladybug bit her lip, suddenly feeling shy in this isolated space her words had created. Surely he wouldn’t reject her now? Surely she hadn’t misread the signs?

“Don’t worry,” he had said, “I’d spoil you too you know.”

No. She hadn’t misread any signals. She couldn’t have. They were as clear as the moonlight shining down upon her. So why wasn’t her cat jumping for joy like she’d expected? He’d always wanted to know who she was; it was her who had denied him, for so many reasons that seemed so unimportant to her now.

“Um, Chat?” She inquired, leaning forwards in concern. She didn’t quite know what else to say, she felt she’d said all she could. But waiting for him to reply was-

“You want me to…find you?” He stood up, shaking from head to toe. His eyes never left hers. The awe in his voice, the promise, made her heart swell and a smile split her face. If she wasn’t sure before, she was now.

“Yes,” She said and a nervous giggle escaped her lips, which she attempted to cover to no avail. Her hands remained at her mouth as she watched Chat Noir cross into the light to stand before her, tall and handsome. As her heart raced pleasantly, Ladybug was caught by surprise at her own thoughts. Just a few days ago he’d been Chat Noir, her partner and dear friend, someone she trusted with her life, someone who she cared deeply for. Now he was Chat Noir, her partner and so much more. The man who dreamed of a future with her, the man who wanted to find her…

The man whom she very much wanted to kiss right now.

Such feelings were so contrasting that Ladybug was surprised she hadn’t gotten whiplash. It made her realise that perhaps she’d always felt this way about him, deep down, and hadn’t realised. After all, since the day they’d met he’d always been this way; charming and selfless, and so very kind to her, even when she doubted her ability to be Ladybug. He was always there. Without fail.

She stepped closer to him, so that they were almost chest to chest. There was a fire inside her now. A fire which burned for him and him alone, and she couldn’t douse it even if she used all of the waters of the world combined.

“Find me Chat Noir,” She repeated, breathless and almost completely unravelled as he placed a hand on her cheek. His fingers seemed to act in accordance to their own wishes, and they reached to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ears. The urge to kiss him intensified, pulling at her insides until she thought she might be torn apart if she didn’t act, didn’t do something, anything.

And so she turned on her heel, stepping out of the light to traipse down the aisle of Notre Dame, her fingers skating against the empty seats. Tilting her head back towards him, she laughed once, low and warm.

“That is of course, if you’re up to the challenge?”

The teasing tilt of her voice kick started his brain and he followed her footsteps with a sly grin.

“For you? Anything,” He responded with a bow and, though they were back in semi-darkness, she could see the seriousness behind his flirtatious remark. Her heart skipped when he peered up at her, winking, “and I do mean anything, even fight Zeus himself, a shocking as that may seem to you.”

“Is that so?” She replied casually, deciding to ignore his awful pun for once. Walking backwards up the steps of the alter, so that she could face him as she spoke, Ladybug encircled the table on which the large cross resided. Her hand now traced the delicate white tablecloth. He followed like she was the light guiding his lost soul through the unknown, mesmerised. In this beautiful universe they’d concocted for themselves, Chat felt both nothing and everything; a numbness, which could only come from a moment so intense, it felt as though it couldn’t possibly be happening. Yet, somehow, it was. It truly was, and Chat had to fight every urge in him to not drop to his knees and proclaim his love for her in its entirety. Not now. Not yet.

“It is, My Lady,” He nodded, gazing at her from her spot opposite from him. A child-like playfulness crossed both their features as they tried to hide their faces from the other, behind the altar cross and around the unlit candles, before Ladybug shook her head in mock-exasperation. With a sigh of surrender, she walked back to stand by his side at the front of the altar.

“Hmm…that does make me wonder, Chat,” She pondered, tapping her chin light heartedly, “Would you still call me your lady after you find me?”

Chat felt something deep and dark stirring within him, something akin to walking into a still ocean in the dead of night. She was so sure he would find her, she wanted him to find her. A part of him once again wondered if it was true, if it could really be happening, if she could really be staring up at him in that way. He knew that she was trusting him with their future, she was giving him the key to it and he’d be damned if he didn’t search every lock in the city, every lock in the world, if that’s what it took.

He would find her.

“That depends, of course,” He grinned, “If you like me calling you my lady?”

She tilted her face up to him then, glancing at Chat confidently, hands on her hips. Without thinking, she leaned in closer.

“I do,” She replied.

Chat gulped.

“I do too,” He whispered, feeling every bit as shy as she didn’t.

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anonymous asked:

If youre still taking requests, I would love one where Shika and Tema are getting pep talks right before their first date. Like the do's and don'ts. You can choose who would be giving them the pep talk. And in the end, they find they haven't need the advice given to them.

I had so much fun writing this and so I hope you all enjoy the first post I’ve written on here in ages. Hope you’re all having a lovely day/night and like to hear about Temari and Shikamaru stressing over nothing :)

Enjoy some good ol’ ShikaTema, guys! 

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .


“Sakura, are you sure about this?”

“Of course I’m sure! Don’t get so het up about it—it’s just a date.”

Temari winced as she looked at herself in the mirror, floaty black dress hanging elegantly at her sides and hair tied not in her usual ponytails but tightly back into a neat bun atop her head at the request of the pink haired girl beside her.

As much as she had wanted to protest, Sakura had insisted the minute she took a step through Konoha’s gate that she would stay with her. Maybe she’d known that only a few hours later, out of nowhere, Shikamaru would turn up at the door.

His hands were deeper in his pockets than ever, his gaze set on the dust on his boots. Those dark eyes held no emotion or interest, even when they lifted to meet hers. As the question tumbled out his expression did nothing but lift a little, but when Temari stuttered out a response she was certain she saw him smile as he saluted and slumped away.

Now here she stood, dressed up more beautiful than she ever thought she could be and tugging at each strand of hair that knotted at the back of her head. Staying here was undeniably pleasant but grew awkward enough the minute she explained to Sakura why she would be out tonight. As she’d dreaded the girl had grabbed her by the shoulders and insisted that she helped her get ready.

It was mostly out of sympathy that Temari agreed. She knew the younger girl was popular with the men she spent time with, but never seemed to get what she wanted or what she deserved. This torment was for her sake—or at least that’s what Temari told herself.

It’s just a date…

Her fingers still twisted and tucked beneath the many blonde strands, trying desperately to loosen the painfully tight pull on her scalp. “Can I please take my hair out of this thing?”

“But you look gorgeous,” whined Sakura, rubbing on her arm comfortingly. “Just leave it as it is and Shikamaru will be blown away.”

“Shikamaru’s never blown away by anything,” she shot back, skeptical.

Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to blow him away. A date was something she’d only been on twice before; one of which was an information retrieval mission while the other was just to pity some man Kankuro befriended, so she had no idea how to act or what to do.

Temari was never particularly fond of romance. She’d grown up with parents who never showed much affection to one another until one of them was lost from the land of the living. On top of that she’d been brought up to be fierce and strong, fighting a battle in her own mind every day about her youngest brother and the expectations that came with being the Kazekage’s daughter. Romance and love that was anything but platonic played no part in her life: there just wasn’t time.

During her later teenage years she was confined to the battlefield, watching man after man run, fight and die. She’d taken control, stood beside and behind those she cared about whenever they needed her.

A war was the last place for love, her father had once told her, but looking back it seemed the place that needed love most.

Now the world was at peace and so many things had occurred—more than just her brother’s face-paint changing drastically. Maybe it was time, she thought, for a change.

But change, to Temari, was scary.

As she sat down, yanking on the stumpy, block heel of the shoes she had deemed most appropriate she started to think harder about what she was doing, about dating and about Shikamaru.

What was she mean to say and do when she locked eyes on him? What topics of conversation were suitable? What did she do when they went their separate ways?


She looked up, eyebrows raised at the younger girl. “Hmm?”

“Do you actually like Shikamaru?”

As the words were processed it began to sink in that this was a question she hadn’t answered to herself yet. She liked him in the way that she trusted him—he was a valuable asset to her village’s exchanges and communication with Konoha. Not to mention he was a fine shinobi and a strategist to more then match her own abilities.

Yes, he was admirable, but was also the sort of person who drove her insane. Then again, the more she envisaged his face and build the more she wondered if the parts of him that weren’t frustrating outweighed the parts that were. He was incredibly handsome after all…

“I don’t know,” replied Temari truthfully. “I’ve not really thought about it.”
Sakura smirked. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find out. You’ll smash it tonight. It’s just like any other date.”

Which wouldn’t be a problem if I had been on any real dates.

Regrettably Temari did little more than hum in response, letting her head hang as she slowly fiddled with the buckle of her heels. Not that she’d want to admit it, but she was panicking. Her hand were shaking as she fumbled with the strap and her lip was so tight between her teeth she was worried she’d soon taste blood. She really didn’t want to screw this up.


I guess that means I do like him… she reasoned.

“Temari, are you alright?”

Isn’t that just fantastic? Now I’ll be more embarrassed when I ultimately make myself look like a fool.

“If you don’t want to go then you don’t have to—”

“How do you act on a date?” Temari’s voice was sharp but somewhat quaky, a big difference to the strong defiance Sakura usually saw from her.
Sakura’s eyes widened. “You mean you’ve never—”

“No, I’ve never been on one; not a proper one,” she interrupted. “See, I don’t know if I like that him or not, but clearly it’s enough that I agreed to this. I don’t want to do anything wrong.” There was a pause as she got to her feet and crossed her arms self-consciously across her frame. “What do I do?”

“First off,” Sakura smiled, “do you feel comfortable in yourself? Do you feel beautiful?”

Temari frowned. “Well, I’d like to take down my bloody hair but you won’t let me. Otherwise…I guess so.”

“Don’t let me push you, just do what you want.” Grinning, the pink haired girl pulled her friend into a tight hug, reaching up on tip toes to not be dwarfed by the blonde. She rubbed her back comfortingly and gave it a light tap. “You’re the lady out there so you make sure he knows that. If he doesn’t treat you like you expect then that’s not your fault—it’s all his. Secondly, get some prolonged eye contact in there to steam things up a bit—”

“Sakura,” she sighed. “I don’t want steamy—”

“—but no obvious smouldering glares because they’re scary. Make the most of your gorgeous legs and make sure he takes notice of how hot you look, Tem. He’ll drool! Oh, and also touch his hands as you walk. Little touches, you know?”

Temari rubbed her hands together and let out a tremendous sigh and she nodded.

No, she didn’t know. She had no idea at all, but she’d try her best with that advice anyway.

“Please do explain why you’re now the champion with women?”

Chouji frowned, laughing in hope his friend might lighten up for a minute. “Like I said: last week I got a waitresses number at the barbecue restaurant.”

“And so that makes you a champion?”


“Well, excuse me if I miss out on the dumb food related pick-up lines, Casanova. I’ll stick to my normal self,” groaned Shikamaru, running his hands through his hair and trying to put it up for the eighth time.

“You mean complaining at everything you see and hoping things work out so you don’t have to chip in.”


“You don’t get how dating works, do you, Shikamaru?” Chouji grinned.

No, but he did know that’s not how dating worked. The whole deal of taking people expensive places and paying more money than he had on a lump of rock was hardly his style and was way too troublesome for him to jump on the bandwagon of. However, he knew he had to make some sort of effort.

Then again he hadn’t decided where he was taking her or what they would be doing. He hadn’t booked a table at any restaurant or planned out a route around town or anything to do.

It’s not dark yet, he noted. I suppose we could watch the clouds…

“Please tell me you at least know where you’re going to take her?”

Shikamaru coughed and rubbed his eyes.

“You don’t know, do you?” It seemed as though Chouji’s eyebrows had disappeared from his face they were so raised. “Shikamaru, you’ve fancied the crap out of her the last year; the least you can do is try. Do you want to be with her or not?”

“I don’t fancy her,” his friend replied stubbornly, clearly lying through his teeth. “Even if she is beautiful she’s bloody irritating.”

“Why did you ask her out then?”

He paused, staring at himself, hopelessly gaping at his reflection in the mirror. “I honestly don’t know.”

Chouji slapped his friend’s back, the impact’s shock shuddering through his body and shaking his bones. If the young man wasn’t already inwardly quaking with his nerves he was now at his friend’s supposedly comforting touch. He stared at Chouji’s eyes in the reflection, and the cheeky smile that he harboured in them. God, how he wished he felt that upbeat and happy about the whole situation—if only he could make a joke of it all. Instead here he was, doing all he could to keep his expressionless face from falling into the same worry that was giving him a headache.

“Let me give you some advice, alright? A pep talk if you want to call it that,” said Chouji, smiling brightly. “Just treat her right. Pay for whatever she wants to drink or eat, make sure she knows you’ve got her covered and that she can rely on you…just treat her!”

Shikamaru’s stomach dropped and his brow grew tight with a frown. That didn’t sound like a good idea to him at all and seemed just the opposite of what Temari would want. After all, it was clearer to Shikamaru more than most that the woman definitely did not need to rely on him. She was strong and quick-witted, and although he was smarter with ease she still put up an incredibly fight, giving him a real run for his money.

Still, as much as he disagreed, he didn’t want to argue. He nodded. Confrontation was too much work, especially when you’re already stressing out. “Sure.”

“Seriously,” added the larger young man. “And make sure you use pet names; stuff like sweetheart, honey, babe, sweet thing…”

“Sweet thing? Are you trying to get me punched, Chouji?”

He smirked, giving Shikamaru’s ponytail a ruffle and pulling it out once again. As his friend huffed and went to fixing it once again he tapped his shoulder laughed. “Thank me later, man. Have fun.”

But Shikamaru wasn’t thanking anyone except her for agreeing to spend her evening with him. Still, even then he couldn’t manage to out the hundreds of words that flooded his head. “I don’t fancy her,” he had said.

God, had he lied.

As she made her way towards him down the steps of Sakura’s home, the genius felt like the village idiot. One look at her in that black dress made him forget everything he’d ever known and his entire vocabulary vanished at the sound of her firm voice saying, “Evening,” as a blush grazed across her cheeks. He knew his face would be the same. His dark eyes wandered about her figure in a way they never had anyone’s before, spending an age just climbing the beautiful sun-kissed curves of her legs.

“Hey, you know what they say, right? Take a picture and that.”

He snapped out of it, physically shaking himself out of the light-headed haze her sheer beauty put him in. Scoffing, he crossed his arms. “Not my fault you don’t scrub up too bad.”

“You’re the reason I had to scrub up,” she teased, biting down on her lip.
He froze. Jesus, how much did he want to bite that lip himself?

Oh, grow up, Shikamaru. Say something sensible.

“Um, yeah. Well, babe, are we ready to go?”
 Temari raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. She didn’t say a word, unsure of how she was meant to respond. Although she didn’t mind the word word ‘babe’ it was safe to say that it seemed Shikamaru looked uncomfortable getting the word out, leaving her heart thumping a confused, unsettled rhythm.

As she nodded, the young man began to drag his feet along the path. He walked slightly ahead of her, giving her a clear view of him leading the way to wherever it was that they were going. Shocked as she was at his choice of names she wasn’t at all surprised at the appeal of his stature.

His hands were buried deep into his pockets and his shoulders were relaxed—not hunched, just not straight up, covered by the dark high-neck shirt he always opted for in casual hours. It wasn’t tight by any means but was fitted enough that it showed his protruding shoulder blades and clung to the muscles on his arms. The definition she could make out and the level of his fitness shouldn’t really have surprised her. Even if he was lazy the man was still a ninja, and one who could fight on and on if he really had to.

The dark hair that was pulled into the messiest of ponytails was beginning to come loose, dancing on the back of his pale neck. For some reason Temari couldn’t help wishing that she could grab that useless hair tie and set free the hair. She wanted to run her hands through it and feel each strand between her war-torn fingers with the hope that his gentleness might soothe the aches and heal the scars.

“So, where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice low and somewhat sultry. ‘Steamy’ is how Sakura had put it, making it sound a lot more innocent than it really was. What is was seemed a bad idea.

If Shikamaru wasn’t blushing at her provocative tone then he must’ve been at the gentle grazing of her hand on his. As their knuckles clashed for a mere second as he pulled his left hand from his pocket to point in response to her question, he felt himself overheating and hoping it would happen again.

It did; again and again as they made their way to their destination and even after that. The only piece of helpful advice she’d been given being successfully put into play.

“Oh, and Sakura told me that I had to show off my legs because they were hot and that’d make you drool.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m drooling, but it’s true you scrub up alright.”

They sat on a park bench—Shikamaru with his legs crossed as he tapped on the sides of the empty noodle packets in his lap. He smiled, giddily watching Temari stare up at the sky night. She was lost in the patterns of the stars, wispy bits of stubborn blonde hair falling from her bun as the breeze wormed it’s way through.

Over the course of the evening the pair had opened up. It really hadn’t taken long for them to adjust, throwing aside all the strange and frankly unhelpful advice that their friend’s had given them. They washed it away with the cheap wine Shikamaru bought on their way to the park, blurting out almost every word they’d been told to the other one.

There was a lot of laughter. A beautiful beam plastered on her face; the handsome curve of one corner of his mouth never left, only growing and growing throughout the evening.

Temari laughed as teal met brown for the hundredth time that night. “What a charmer you are…”

“It’s true.”

His head turned a little more directly, eyes focussing on her like a camera lens. Everything but her was a blur to him; unimportant and lifeless in comparison. Time slowed as he raised his hand to her cheek, his fingertips gliding up her face and into her hair. One second his finger was hooked around the tie that constricted her blonde locks, the next it was pulling up and out.

Waves cascaded—a golden waterfall across her shoulders, drenching his hands in it’s precious touch. The band snapped, but he cared so little as he smiled the realest smile Temari had seen on his lips.

“You’re very beautiful, if a little intimidating…”

Blushing, Temari pressed her hand on top of his. “Don’t try and flatter me, Nara.”

“Is it working?” he teased.

It is, she admitted inwardly. “I think I’ll need a second one of these meetings to decide on that.”

Shikamaru chuckled. “Oh, really?”


“If we have to,” sighed the lazy man. “Just don’t expect anything fancy.”

“I won’t, believe me. I know you too well. You’re damn lucky I expected nothing more than crap takeaway noodles tonight anyway…”

Once again she bit her lip, whispering her last few words as she leaned in towards Shikamaru. He could feel her breath on his lips and waited with baited breath for the capture of her lips on his. It was tantalising torture, all proceeded too slowly even for the man with more patience than anyone he knew.

“You’re such a tease, you know, sweet thing,” he said with a smirk, wondering what one last jokey attempt of his friend’s advice would do.

Temari pulled back, groaning. “Never call me ‘sweet thing’ ever again in my life or I swear I will punch you right between the eyes.”

anonymous asked:

A spouting a huge amount of pick up lines to friends, B getting jealous and confronting A which kind just calls for them making out and skipping/being late for class

There’s the slam of their shared dorm door, a stomping of footsteps. Derek calmly continues in his note making, pretends he hasn’t stayed up past one just to welcome Stiles home from his night out. 

“Are you a magician, because when I look at you everyone else just disappears.”

Derek’s pen drops from his mouth, his heart, stupidly, begins to race, and he jerks his head up to stare at Stiles. 

Stiles waves a hand at him, bodily rolls his eyes as he tosses his wallet on the desk, “See! It works on you! You’re surprised; you’re looking at me; you now know I exist!”

Derek swallows, reigns in his momentary and obviously ridiculous excitement. 

“What,” he manages flatly. 

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baneismydragon  asked:

Smoulder was my favorite- but I think "When Duty Met Desire" is replacing that as my top choice ^_^

(Whats your fave fanfic of mine meme)

Yaaaaay!!!! Glad you’re liking WDDM :3 I guess it makes sense really! I should get better at writing the more I do it, and Smoulder is over a year old now (since starting it).

Plus Eden brings out the best in me ^_^ ❤