Hello, everyone. It’s been a while since I last posted anything. I’ve been working on the story for several weeks, but I wouldn’t finish it without my dear petal, @little-black-dress-24. It all happened thanks to your idea, your patience with me constantly tormenting you to read this stuff. So, huge thank you, E. And E, I’m really sorry for my dramatic, aesthetic, perfectionist ass. Luv yeh. xx
I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feel free to comment, share or at least like, if you fancy my work.
Harry is a lawyer and he is faced with the challenge of cooperating with his new boss. The boss turns out to be a beautiful woman. Word count: 9,500-ish
You were sitting in a comfortable armchair with a cappuccino in a white coffee cup, right in front of you on a coffee table. You took a deeper breath from time to time to relax your tense body. You weren’t scared but you were nervous, in a good way. Finally, you achieved one of your career goals. You applied for your dream job in one of the best prospering law companies in the UK. You were determined to achieve your goal and so it happened. You were the first and the youngest woman to become a CEO in the company.
It was your first day and you were waiting for one of the Board Members to officially introduce you to the team. Your head was full of ideas on how to expand and develop the company. You were very excited about the job to a point where you couldn’t sleep at night because you were so full of energy and excitement for the new things to come.
You looked at a golden chain watch on your wrist and realised you should have been called inside about 10 minutes ago. You were tapping your fingers on your knees in excitement when you heard a man shouting in the office you were about to enter in the next couple of minutes.
‘You promised me this job and you lied to me, John! You know very well that it’s me who should have been given this job, I worked my ass off and I deserve it!’ you heard.
Hearing this, you felt an uncomfortable cramp in your stomach and a wide smile disappeared from your face immediately. Is someone getting fired because you got this job? That certainly wasn’t a good start, you thought. Several seconds later, the door to the office opened with force and a man stormed out from the inside. He was tall, very lean, dressed in a tailor-made navy-blue suit, white shirt and a black tie. His face was furious; eyebrows frowned, lips pursed in anger. When he noticed you sitting next to the door, his eyes lingered on you for several seconds as he was walking by, like he was examining you, wondering who you might be. Then he laughed sarcastically, spitting a silent ‘Obviously…’ under his nose. He disappeared behind the door and you were called in by Mr. Stevens as it was your turn to meet in his office.
I don't know if you've answered this but thoughts on Gintoki telling Hijikata he was the Shiroyasha? Were you disappointed, surprised, content with how it was done/Hijikata's reaction? Would you have it done differently? (I liked it, but I wish Hijikata had more of a response, he was kind of just like '...i knew it' when I was expecting something along the lines of 'waIT WHAT')
I have!! But I never mind answering stuff like this again and I’d probably break myself trying to find the post LOL But no, I wasn’t disappointed at all, I found it very fitting. Gintoki chose to tell Hijikata and only Hijikata. It’s more than likely Hijikata already knew, too, but that was what made the weight of Gintoki making the choice to tell him all the more profound. Gintoki typically doesn’t release that kind of information as freely and openly as he did for Hijikata and that just adds to why the evolution of their friendship has been so incredible to watch. I think it would have been out of place for Hijikata to be surprised by the admission. There was a long span of time between when Hijikata had Yamazaki do a report on Gintoki and the Baragaki arc when Gintoki decided to reveal that about himself. I think it speaks a lot to how well they know each other and how much attention they pay to one another that, after hearing Gintoki say he’s the Shiroyasha, Hijikata just laughs and smirks and doesn’t miss a beat. He seemed relieved to me. He just accepts it and he can do that because he already knew it.
That moment is actually really special to me and not just because GinHijiGin is my thing. That was the first time Gintoki revealed something about himself without the circumstances forcing him into a situation where he has to. There was no reason for him to tell Hijikata that. He did it unprovoked because he wanted to. It was such a big step for him as a character and, to me, it was like he was asking Hijikata to trust him and they understood each other so well that Hijikata didn’t think twice before doing it.
I mean, legit, you’ve got me ranting now because think about it.Hijikata’s outnumbered on the roof, he realizes it’d been a trap to draw him up there, and he gets nervous. He sees Gintoki, he hears what Gintoki’s saying into the phone:
And remember, Hijikata can’t hear what Isaburo is saying. So, Hijikata sees he’s trapped, he hears Gintoki say he’s not going to side with the Shinsengumi, and then Gintoki’s telling him he’s the Shiroyasha and urging Hijikata, almost rallying him to get his shit together.
Like there’s subtext within the conversation. AND HIJIKATA LAUGHS. HIS SHOULDERS RELAX, HE TOSSES HIS HEAD BACK, AND HE LAUGHSSS. It sounds so relieved to me, he looks relieved.
It’s like he understood something all the other men around them didn’t or couldn’t. I feel like Gintoki had to choose his words carefully because of the audience they had, so he didn’t something to speak to Hijikata in a way only he’d pick up on. By trusting Hijikata and revealing that he was the Shiroyasha, he was, in turn, asking Hijikata to trust him as well. So even when Gintoki kicks Tetsunosuke over the edge, I don’t think he was actually shocked, but rather, was using it as a reason to make a mad dash toward Gintoki so they’d be in a better spot to watch out for each other when they fought.
ALSO! Something really important! Note the way Gintoki’s face changes after Hijikata says they’re both the same.
HE. LOOKS. SO. PLEASED. Watch for yourself, go to episode 246 and start it around the 19:50 mark, you’ll see the slight change on his face exactly when Hijikata says this and he looks satisfied, appeased, like he just heard precisely what he’d wanted to hear – like he agrees and he’s proud of it. You could also take Hijikata’s speech afterward as him subtly asking Gintoki for help and Gintoki answers. Goddamn, the whole arc just was just sooo well done.
Yeah, no, I wasn’t disappointed in anything that happened =A=
And might I just point out that Gintoki actively pursues more information about Hijikata, which is something he has never done before. Prior to the Baragaki arc, it was all indifference and denial, then suddenly, there’s interest and acceptance. They proved something to each other in this arc and earned respect from one another. I just… have so much more to say about this and them and ughhhh I’m so sorry OTL
Author’s Note: I can post this now, yeees! For the anon who requested Otayuri with numbers 9: “That’s a horrible idea!” and 10: “It’s… definitely shiny.” I managed to include both of them, yaay~! And I’m actually pretty proud of this one! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3
Description: Otabek returns to his and Yuri’s shared apartment with two new skating costumes. A few minutes after he talks with Yuri, he gets the idea to go shopping while showing off their new costumes. Does it go well? For Otabek, definitely! For Yuri?… Not so much luck there!
Word Count: 2,123
Otabek locked the door behind him as he walked down the hall, two plastic shopping bags hanging from his wrist. He had just been out shopping to get Yuri an early Christmas gift, though he came back with something for himself once he saw the matching skating costumes for sale. He stopped in the doorway to the living room, looking over at Yuri, who was lying on his stomach on the floor watching television.
“Heh, took you long enough,” he said, muting the show that was playing and averting his attention to Otabek. He pointed at the two bags, tilting his head. “And what might those be?”
“Gifts. I saw something at the store and it made me think of you, so I bought it and the other matching one. They were the last two left,” Otabek replied, a small grin tugging his lips when he saw a light pink blush spreading across his friend’s cheeks.
Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Stiles x Reader Word Count: 2,836 (lol sorry I sorta got carried away) Warnings: A few swear words if that type of stuff bothers anyone Request from @captainelsaeverdeen:
Hello, it’s me, annoy, intrusive little shit :D Could you possible write a Stiles imagine, something like the Snow White story, where the reader eat a poisoned apple, and Stiles wakes her up by true love kiss ?
A/N: I am seriously so proud of this one for some reason. I hope you love it as much I as I did!
NOTES/WARNINGS: I used Ireland in this, Newgrange is a Pre-historic site that pre-dates the Pyramids at Giza and Stonehenge and is amazing, and the Gardaí are the Irish police force.
“He’s a bit of a lively one.” Becca warned.
“Thanks for the heads up. Is he still out of it?” You asked, getting the travel box ready and putting a fresh fleece blanket in it.
“He should be awake but groggy; best to get him into the box before he wakes fully.” She recommended.
Taking the cat box in hand, you walked into the recovery room and to the animal cage with a towel outside the door to keep it dark. Pulling up the towel you looked in. “Oh, hello beautiful boy.” You cooed, seeing the creature inside, half asleep. “Aren’t you the most handsome man in this place?” Slowly and calmly you opened the cage and listened to him make warning noises akin to grumbling. “I know baby, I know.” You spoke slowly and calmly. “You’re confused and here I am coming to annoy you. I’m a mean human, aren’t I?” Gently, you took the edge of the blanket he was lying on and wrapped it around him carefully before lifting him out and into the waiting box. He seemed to realise at the last moment what was going on, but by then you had placed him in the box and you were locking it up as he tried to get to his feet. “Whoa there beautiful boy, stay down, I am going to spring you from this joint.” You smiled. As though understanding what you were saying, he eyed you carefully and ceased struggling to his feet. “Yeah? You want to come to my place for a few days while we see if anyone is missing you? You’re too big and well looked after to be some scraggly stray aren’t you; I bet you are used to the good things in life; like a little king.”
May I have one where the reader has tattoos and the team doesn't know until they all go on a work out together (like traditional tattoos, skulls ect.) And it's really fluffy between her and Spencer (he's attracted to them) (and her)
Yes! Yes you can! And to the nonniepot who wanted a one-shot about the reader seeing Spencer in a suit and being speechless, this one is for you as well.
Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!
“Pleeeeease come out with us!” Garcia begs as she holds onto your arm, “you never come out with us, and you’ve been on this team 6 months! It’s like…a new record or something!”
“I know, I know…but I just…I’m so tired,” you whine.
“I can bring some coffee,” Reid says over his shoulder.
Turning around, you look at him with a shocked stare, “You’re going, too?”
“Oh, yeah. Rossi’s cooking is incredible, and it gives me an excuse to bust out a nice suit.”
“Wait…this is a formal event?” you hold your hand up, looking over at Garcia who starts laughing.
“Not really…but Rossi’s house makes it feel like that,” she says through her giggles.
Sighing, you give in.
“Fine. Fine. Let me go home and change, and I’ll come on.”
And as Garcia squeals and claps her hand, your gaze rolls over towards Spencer, whose shit-eating grin is plastered all over his face.
“See you soon,” you murmur, a smile upticking on your face as Spencer raises his gaze to yours.
Studying yourself in the mirror, you sigh and shake your head as you walk out to grab your coat.
What have I gotten myself into?
Walking down to your car, you pull up Rossi’s house on your phone GPS, locking it onto your dashboard as you crank up your car and check your make up one last time, hoping that your outerwear will distract them from the art underneath your clothing.
But as you pull into Rossi’s drive-way, you count the cars and realize that you’re the last to arrive.
So much for getting here first.
Checking your phone, you see a message from Garcia.
“I hope you’ll be here soon! Spencer actually wore his suit!”
Smiling and shaking your head, you turn your car off and smooth out your petal pink dress, a stark contrast to your bright red hair and your black tattoos. You always preferred the traditional, “old school” tattoos: you had a tiny skull just above your right ankle protrusion, a sugar skull on your left upper arm (which you knew Penelope would adore), a black and green vine wrapping around the light divot you had between your bicep and tricep on your right upper arm, a purple-shaded rose on your left breast, and black and red wings that spanned your broad shoulders on your back and cascaded down, following the light dip of your waist and flaring back out at your hips.
That one you were especially proud of.
But you didn’t know how the team was going to react.
Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to the door, knocking lightly before you hear a scuttling behind it.
Opening the door, you see Rossi, arms outstretched, welcoming you into his home as he gives you a huge hug and a kiss on each cheek.
“Y/L/N, you look phenomenal,” he says, holding your shoulders and looking you up and down, “That dress is very flattering,” he winks.
Shaking your head, you thank him for the invitation as he takes your cat, hanging it up as he guides you to the room that houses everyone else.
“Aaahhh, you’re here!” Garcia yelps, jumping up and running you down.
“Oh. My. God!” she says, catching sight of your sugar skull as she brings her hand up to it, running her fingers over it as she gawks.
“And look at your other arm!”
Chuckling, you hold out your foot, “I have one above my ankle as well.”
“How did you keep these a secret!?” she says, her wide-eyed gaze coming back up to your giggling one as your face starts to redden.
“Not really appropriate for work,” you lower your voice, nudging her as you hug her neck.
“Do you have any others!?” she asks breathlessly.
“I have wings on my back,” you say.
“Oh. Oh, I have to see those someday. Promise!?” he asks.
“Promise,” you say, turning to face the rest of the team.
But all you saw was Spencer, his eyes wide and his jaw unhinged as he continued to stare at you.
Looking him up and down, you realized how wonderful he looked in his suit. It was tailored specifically for his body, not like his work clothes that were a little baggier. His butt was perfectly accented and his broad shoulders stood out, making his towering stature even more intimidating as he slowly starts walking towards you.
“You look…” he pauses as he stops, looking down at you as his eyes caress your arms, taking in your tattoos, “…incredible.”
Feeling your cheeks burn, you dip your gaze and shuffle, smiling stupidly as you say, “That suit looks nice on you, too, Spencer.”
As the team shoot each other looks, you feel fingers on your right arm as you look over and see Emily fingering your tribal band.
“This is so cool,” she says, smiling at you as she dips down and looks at your ankle.
“Very cool,” Spencer says, his lips smiling as his gaze never falters.
“So!” Rossi claps his hands, “Who’s ready to cook?”
Sitting beside Garcia at the dining table, the team chats about their families and their impending summer vacations, talking about dates off and shooting the shit as you lightly feel something brushing over your foot.
Furrowing your brow and peeking under the table cloth, you catch Spencer’s foot scooting back in place, a light grin strumming across your face as you bring your gaze back up.
“Y/L/N? Any vacation plans for the summer?” Rossi asks.
“Oh, not really,” you say, taking a sip of your wine as the sensation creeps back up your leg, “it’s been a long time since I’ve actually gone on a vacation. Usually when I take the time off I sit at home in my sweatpants eating Cheetos off my stomach like an otter.”
As the team laughs at your sentiment, you smile broadly as you reach for a bite of your food, your leg starting to tingle as he slowly trails his foot halfway up your calf, ripping it back when Garcia eyes you curiously.
“Are you alright?” she asks, “your face is a bit red.”
“Oh, I’m a sweater when I drink alcohol,” you quickly collect your thoughts, “It’s why I don’t drink much. I’m a mess when I do.”
“Oh, girl, no worries,” she says, tapping her arm and facing you, “I’m the same way. It’s gross.”
As you and Penelope begin to chat, people slowly start clearing their empty plates, coming back with full glasses of wine and leaning deeply into the backs of their chairs.
“Are you done?” you hear Spencer say from above.
“Huh?” you ask, looking up at his beautiful face.
“If you’re done, I was going to offer to take your plate,” he says, pointing to your nearly empty plate.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” you say, putting your napkin on the table as you reach for your plate as Spencer’s hand brushes against yours.
“I insist,” he says, taking your plate from you as he smiles.
Watching him walk away, you cock your head, admiring him from behind in his suit, as Rossi clears his throat to get your attention.
“I think it’s time you excused yourself,” Rossi says.
Furrowing your brow, you ask, “What?”
Leaning forward and putting his palms into the table, he leans forward and whispers.
“I think…you should excuse yourself…and take Reid’s offer of accompanying you home to make sure you get there safe.”
“But he hasn’t-”
Furrowing your brow in confusion, you watch as Garcia groans and rolls her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips as he lowers her voice.
“Just…excuse yourself to go home and roll with the punches,” she sighs.
Opening your mouth in understanding, you look around at the team, their urging looks telling you that they agree.
As Spencer comes back to his seat, you clear your throat and stand up.
“Well, I’m getting a bit tired, and if I have any more to drink I won’t be able to get home, and Rossi’ll be stuck with me,” you say, standing to your feet as you scoot out from your chair.
“You gonna be alright?” Spencer asks worriedly, “I’ve only had one glass to your three…I-I could…drive or something,” he offers.
“Oh, Reid, I-I couldn’t…you know, put you out like that. I don’t have a guest bedroom and I live outside of the city and-”
“…and I think it would be a wonderful idea,” Garcia interjects as she eyes you, grabbing your arm and shoving you towards the door as Rossi does the same for Spencer.
“And call me when you two get home alright!” Garcia yells as the two of you stumble down the steps, your pairs of eyes wide as they slam the door, shutting you two out in the cold.
“But…but my coat!” you yell.
“Here,” Spencer says, shrugging his off, “you can have mine.”
Taking his coat as your body begins to shiver, you hear your purse clatter to the ground in front of you, the door swiftly closing as you chuckle and shake your head.
“Could they be any more obvious?” you say, picking your stuff up as Spencer’s fingers once again brush up against yours.
“No,” he says in between his chuckles, holding his hand out for your keys as you dig around for them.
“Thank you,” you say, putting them in his hand as he closes his hand around yours.
And as you bring your gaze up to meet his, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight as a gust of wind picks your hair up and swirls it around, he leans in slowly to kiss your cheek, his warm lips lingering on your ice-cold skin as you feel him smile against your face.
The name Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is actually
very misleading and ensures that people misunderstand the condition and people
are misdiagnosed or never realise they have it.
One of the big issues is the use of the word ‘Hyperactivity’. Most importantly,
you don’t have to have this aspect to be diagnosed with ADHD. Some people
actually use the term Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) instead as that better
represents their symptoms, but the official term is ADHD and that is what you
would be diagnosed with by a psychiatrist, whether you have signs of
hyperactivity or not.
People are either diagnosed with having predominantly inattentive presentation,
predominantly hyperactive-impulsive presentation or having combined presentation.
People who are diagnosed with the first type might not have any hyperactive
symptoms, but they are still diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity
Disorder. You can see why this might be confusing to people if you tell them
you have ADHD and they don’t see any signs of hyperactivity in you. It might
lead people to disbelieve your diagnosis and not take you seriously.
The other issue with the word ‘Hyperactivity’ is that people often have
a stereotype in their mind of someone who is hyperactive which is usually that
of a young boy. It’s true that more children with ADHD are hyperactive than
adults and that children with ADHD often get less hyperactive as they get
older. Adults can still be hyperactive, but perhaps not in the same way as
children. Impulsivity also comes under the hyperactivity bracket.
Signs of hyperactivity/impulsivity in children might be:
• not being able to sit still
• constantly fidgeting
• talking excessively
• moving constantly
• making a lot of noise
• having a quick temper
• acting without thinking
• interrupting people
• not being able to wait their turn
Whereas adults will probably experience:
• agitation if they aren’t moving quickly from one activity to another
• getting bored easily
• thoughts invading their head making it hard to think clearly
• difficulties being patient
• taking unnecessary risks without considering the consequences
• craving excitement
• talking excessively
• interrupting others
• developing addictions
• saying what they’re thinking without considering the impact of it first
As you can see, there are similarities, but usually hyperactivity in
adults will be less obvious than in children. I think this could be partly due
to learning to control some of their behaviours or being more aware of other
people and so not wanting to appear ‘different’.
When I went for my ADHD evaluation I believed that I probably had the
predominantly inattentive presentation, but as I answered the psychiatrist’s
questions, I realised that actually I have the combined presentation. What I
found out was that, when at work, I suppress my hyperactive behaviours (it
helps that I’m always busy at work, rushing from one thing to the next without
much time to think in between) so then when I get home, my husband gets the
full brunt of my behaviours as I can finally relax and let everything out. I’m
also exhausted from having to work at my maximum capacity for approximately
nine hours, which makes it harder to control my behaviour. I should record
myself when I’m like that as I think it would be quite a shock to most people
who know me. I tend to also be more hyperactive around people I’m comfortable
with. For example, when I’m with my sister I don’t feel the need to act
‘normal’ and I’m completely myself which often means she sees a lot of my
Since starting stimulant medication, the change in my hyperactive and
impulsive behaviours is what I’ve noticed most. They have dramatically
Now on to the term ‘Attention Deficit’. Attention being the process of
selectively concentrating on a particular thing and deficit meaning a lack of
that thing. Most people see ADHD as a condition where people can’t concentrate
for prolonged periods of time, but this is incorrect. Any person with ADHD will
tell you that, in the right conditions, they can concentrate for hours. They
could probably even concentrate on one single activity for longer than most
people who don’t have ADHD could. That’s because people with ADHD usually have
the ability to hyperfocus. This is when someone is so engrossed in something
that they ignore everything else going on around them and may only realise
hours later that they have been in this highly focused zone and lost track of
Unfortunately, people with ADHD will only become hyperfocused on
something they find highly interesting or enjoyable. It wouldn’t usually happen
when paying your bills, doing the housework or other mundane tasks (although I
know of some people who would clean the house all day if they could). The
problem comes when undertaking tasks that the person with ADHD is not so
interested in. If they actually get around to initiating the task (as
procrastination is a huge issue) then they may get easily distracted, make
avoidable mistakes or fail to finish the task.
I suppose the key is to try and find ways to make yourself hyperfocus on
boring tasks. I’m working on that one but it’s tricky. You would need to find
something you find very interesting or fun and link it to the boring tasks. As
a teacher, I often use this technique to engage children in their learning, but
it’s harder to implement in my own life.
You could also reward yourself for doing boring tasks with tasks you
like to hyperfocus on. You do have to have some kind of self-discipline to do
this, but you can make it as basic as you want. I tend to give myself a to-do
list of quite a few items to achieve, but it could just be a single thing if I
was really struggling. I would then have the feeling of satisfaction for
achieving a task and be able to do an activity I enjoy without feeling guilty
about doing so.
I don’t know about other people, but music has the ability to put me in
a highly focused state. Perhaps not a hyperfocused state but close to it. If I
need to get really boring things done, I put on my headphones and choose a
playlist I’ve carefully put together which fills me with positive energy.
The only time I can hyperfocus on cleaning is if I have visitors coming.
I’m very house proud and so if someone is coming over, I will spend as much
time as it takes making sure everything is just right. Maybe I should just have
visitors over every day!
They aren’t going to change the name ADHD any time soon so we’re stuck
with it for now. That’s fine – it just means we need to work harder to help
people understand what it really means to have ADHD. This can only lead to more
acceptance of people who choose to share their ADHD diagnosis and hopefully it
will also lead to more people realising that ADHD might be the cause of their
difficulties and enable them to seek much needed support.
Advice to Single Sisters Entangled with Married Men
The man you claim to “love” and are eagerly waiting on the sidelines for in the hopes that he’ll see you, is keeping you in the periphery for a reason. He knows perfectly well that he can go on enjoying his game on the field and you’ll still be standing there waiting around when everyone else goes home. You see, he loves the attention you give him. He relishes every minute of it. He loves the power he has over you. He loves that you are so eager to please him. Come rain or shine, he knows that you’ll always be standing there, eagerly waiting for him to just give you a glance…and no matter how difficult the game is he’s playing, unlike everything else he’s got going on, he knows you’re a sure shot. You may be the only guarantee he has in life, which is why his grasp on you is so tight.
He may say all the right things, he may go out of his way to make you feel EXTRA special. Maybe he has a nickname for you and “only” you. He has you convinced that YOU are an exception above all other women, even his wife, which is why he can’t stay away from you. If he’s really good, he’ll periodically pull the “I’m feeling guilty” card and disappear for a while. Then, in poetic fashion, he’ll reappear and tell you how “impossible” it was to forget you, how he thought of you every day and just needed to see you again!
Sounds so amazing doesn’t it? After all, what woman doesn’t want to believe that she’s irresistible? What woman doesn’t want a man to make her feel that she has a special power, above all other women in his life, to make him weak?
He’s figured out that by sticking to this solid script he can manipulate you to do pretty much anything he wants you to and believe anything he tells you.
Now, I know it’s hard for you to hear these things about the man you “love”. After all, he’s so sweet and such a good man otherwise. He has a good heart, he may even go to the masjid, help raise funds for charitable causes, and be an all-around “good guy”. How can such a man be capable of intentionally manipulating you? He’s not evil! He loves you…you know it, you feel it…he just can’t be with you because his life is so difficult. He’s sacrificing his own happiness (which is being with you) because of his family, his children, his parents…you feel so sorry for him but it makes you love him even more that he’s so noble…
Hold up…let’s rewind for just a second.
No one is saying that he’s evil. Being a man who is caught up in this toxic situation and one who is otherwise a relatively “good Muslim” are not mutually exclusive. Throughout history, even in the time of the Prophet (peace be upon him), men (and women) have fallen into this dangerous trap of shaitan. So, no one is denying that he has virtues. He is caught up in the addictive cycle the same as you are, just for different reasons. But that’s a whole other topic all together. We’re focusing on you right now.
Now, I want you to indulge me for just a moment and consider the possibility that what you perceive as “love” for this person is not as pretty and romantic as you think but it’s actually something else, something that is actively harming you. How many nights have you cried yourself to sleep because of the loneliness, the feelings of neglect? How many times have you beaten yourself up wondering why he’s not with you or why he didn’t choose YOU as his wife? How many times have you felt sick to your stomach over the guilt? Is that what you imagined you’d feel when you met “the one”? Or did you imagine someone who RECIPROCATED your feelings, and not just by word, but by action?
Didn’t you imagine that when you found the person you were created for that he would be loyal to you, be there for you when you needed him, take care of you when you were sick, honor your friends and family, wipe away your tears when you were down, and be proud to walk side by side with you, just as you were proud to do so with him? If you did, then you were right. That is how a man and woman who are in love behave with one another.
I’m certain you didn’t imagine that being in love meant that you would be hidden, like someone’s shameful secret. Unfortunately, despite the intensity and authenticity of your feelings for him, despite the fact that you already have and would probably continue sacrificing yourself, your principles, your reputation, your family’s honor, your spiritual health, etc., for him, he is not willing to do what it takes to be with you.
That would take honesty on his part. It would take for him to sacrifice many things that are part of the life he’s created…but he’s not willing to do that, which is why his promises to you will most likely NEVER be fulfilled. He is not willing to lose it all for you…if he was, he’d already have done it and wouldn’t be stringing you along as he has been.
Trust me when I say that a man in love will move mountains to be with the woman he loves. A man in lust, a man addicted to the attention his ego gets from such relationships, a man who cannot control his desires, will NOT. He will just continue to fulfill his desires. He will keep the addiction going as long as the supply is there and he can continue getting whatever he wants out of it. The moment his needs are no longer being met he will disappear completely. What does that mean for you? It means that the moment you stop giving in to him, the moment you stop showing up at the games, the moment he no longer sees you on the sidelines, he will dispose of you without a second thought…and unless he gets help, he’ll move on to his next conquest.
So, please my dear sister, do not be someone who lets ANYONE treat you like you are disposable. Do you realize who you are? I know this relationship has probably worn down your self-image and self-worth, but let me remind you that you have been honored by Allah (swt) to not only be a Muslim, but to be in the ummah of the Best of Creations (peace be upon him). Much of the Prophets life mission, even up until his last moments on earth, were to fight for YOUR rights as a woman, to be honored, to be cherished, to be loved, to be respected. You deserve better than this. You were not created to be used by someone and have your rights and honor stripped from you in the process. Would he ever allow someone to do this to his sister, to his daughter? Of course not! So what gives him the right to do it to you? It’s because what you risk losing is not as important as what he risks gaining from you. He does not care that you are in a state of perpetual heartache, that you cry when you are not with him, or that you have possibly missed out on so much of your life being caught up in this vicious cycle.
Please get out and seek help. There are professionals who can help you, people who will never judge you or ever expose you. They will do whatever they can to guide you out of this, inshAllah. You just have to believe that with Allah (swt) anything is possible. If you are sincere, in the blink of an eye, he can remove these feelings from your heart and set you free. Return to Him. He loves you, He loves your tears of repentance more than you can ever know. I promise you, if you surrender to Him, you can and will overcome this inshAllah. You just have to value yourself as much as He (azza wajal) has valued you and take the first step.
Allah (swt) said: “I am as My servant thinks I am. I am with him when he makes mention of Me. If he makes mention of Me to himself, I make mention of him to Myself. And if he makes mention of Me in an assembly, I make mention of him in an assembly better than it. And if he draws near to Me a hand’s span, I draw near to him an arm’s length. And if he draws near to Me an arm’s length, I draw near to him a fathom’s length. And if he comes to Me walking, I go to him at speed.” (Hadist Qudsi: Bukhari, Muslim, Tirmidhi, Ibn Majah)
Based on that headcanon of Kuroko in a chiffon halter top
So it looks like I did the thing I said I wouldn’t do: write KnB fic. Based on this headcanon. And because I apparently cannot write even a self-indulgent bit of fun like this without giving it a plot, it comes in two parts. Starring Kagami, Kise, and a tentative friendship, Kise’s sisters, a fashion designer who knows what’s up, and, of course, Kuroko, who really has no idea that he’s giving everyone heart palpitations. Oh, and since it never hurts to be extra-clear on tumblr, feedback is most welcome.
Title: Close Distance Focusing Characters/Pairings: budding KagaKuro-ness, Kise, Kise’s older sister #1 Rating: PG Parts: 1 of 2
an AU where Dean is a dog walker and Cas is one of his clients (well, technically he could count as five, if he’s talking about how many dogs are walked for him…so yes, basically Cas is his only client) but Dean doesn’t mind, not at all, because even if it’s only for three minutes every Wednesday and Friday, he gets to see those blue eyes light up and that smile of his widen when his little family comes home…and damn, Dean thinks seeing that is pretty much worth the entire world
he does his best to get to know the guy as much as he can in the span of time he has while preparing the dogs for their walk and when bringing them home after. So far, he knows that Cas is an English teacher for underprivileged kids, and he also is the head of a charity that gives them the necessities they need to live (of course he is, because anything else might make him less perfect). It’s called Anything, for the Angels. and Dean thinks his heart swells too big when Cas describes his reasoning for that name, “because the kids really are Angels.”
He also knows that Cas loves breakfast and hates mornings. He knows that he would have ten cats if he weren’t allergic, and that dogs were his next choice. He knows that Castiel doesn’t like his full name, so Cas will do. Dean knows his favorite movie is The Titanic, his favorite books are all of them, and his most prized possession is the trench coat his brother bought for him before leaving to Afghanistan. Dean knows that Cas’ brother never came back. He knows that Gabe was the only one in his family that accepted Cas’ sexual orientation, and that his father and mother “simply couldn’t deal with this phase anymore after Gabriel’s death.” He knows that Castiel buys a dog every time he feels like the world is too much, and he wants to go away forever. Dean knows that he needs to protect Cas, that he wants to find his parents and yell at them for letting go of something so amazing. He knows that he’s fallen for the guy, and he has absolutely no clue what he’s going to do about it.
Until one day, Castiel has running shoes on and jeans and a t-shirt that replace the usual suit and tie he wore after coming home from work (and Dean so does not miss the tie for a split second, he also doesn’t secretly appreciate the fact that he could see Cas’ figure a whole lot better, and he definitely doesn’t check him out six times when he isn’t looking.) and it takes a moment of them standing there in the accustomed comfortable silence that they’ve developed, studying each other’s eyes, that Dean realizes Cas is actually coming with him on today’s walk. “I thought today was an exceptionally beautiful one. Do you mind?” Hell, no, I don’t mind! Are you kidding? But instead Dean settles for, “Sure, Cas. That would be nice.”
They each take a few dogs, Dean with three and Cas with the remaining two, and begin on the usual route Dean takes. It’s small talk at first, neither asking big or too complicated of questions, before Cas tears that all down. “I know nothing about you.” He stops, squinting his eyes against the sun when facing Dean, “I realized last night, that I’ve only told you about myself. I only know what you do for work,” Cas gestures towards the dogs, “and that you have a younger brother named Sammy. I would like to get to know more about you.” If Dean wasn’t so hung up on the fact that Castiel mentioned last night as if thinking about him at night was so casual, he would have corrected him nicely and say that his brothers name was Sam, and he only allowed Dean to call him Sammy, but who really cared? The way he said it had Dean’s heart melting anyway, and he just might have to make Sam get used to one more person using that nickname.
He finally realizes, after probably way too long, that Cas is still waiting for him to answer. and fuck, even the way he waits is adorable, with his head tilted and lips slightly parted, Dean thinks he might embrace the embarrassment afterward and pull out his phone to take a picture right then and there. But, he has some sense of will power, and clears his throat instead. “It’s hardly your fault Cas. I’m the one who asked too many questions, you couldn’t get one in yourself.”
“True or not, I still would enjoy getting familiar with you.” Castiel is smiling slightly and Dean notices the small dimples he possesses just below his right and left cheekbone, and he smiles back for a second.
But then his smile falls, “I-Im really not that interesting. My second job isn’t at a charity, it’s in a garage. I, uh, I fix cars. I didn’t go to college because dad needed me to help with the house after mom died…but Sammy? Sammy’s at Stanford. I’m so proud of him.” His smile is back again, “They both know I’m bisexual, my dad and brother. The old man took it pretty hard at first, but he was over it faster than I thought he would be. I think Sam must’ve talked some sense into ‘em. Bobby, my dad’s best friend and our godfather, he took care of us too growing up, still does. He owns the shop I work at.“ Dean lets out a breath, and he’s staring at the floor a little too hard, “Uh…I don’t read a lot of books, but I do like some of the classics. My favorite movies range from anything with a car chase to anything that keeps you thinking for hours after it’s over. I couldn’t live without my family and my car…I think I love that damn thing a little more than I should sometimes. But, it has a ton of memories, ya know?” He glances up to see if Cas is still paying attention, and of course he is, so Dean blushes and darts his eyes away again, “As far as me personally, I’m not very good at saying how I feel. I tend to believe the worst and ruin the best.” He decides he’s done then because, well, maybe it’s getting too much for Cas.
Dean finds him looking at him the way he was before, his head tilted and eyes squinted, but his mouth held a slight frown, “You’re down on yourself a lot. You don’t think you’re something special.”
Dean shrugs, “I’m not.”
“I like my full name.” Castiel says. And he doesn’t explain until Dean gives him a very confused look, “Two months ago, when we first met, I told you my name was Castiel. The next time we saw each other you called me Cas, then later corrected yourself. But I told you that I didn’t like my full name, so ‘Cas’ was okay. I lied.”
And oh my god, that’s when Cas blushed. If Dean thought he was beautiful before, nothing prepared him for now. “I lied because when you nicknamed me, I felt as if we knew each other for more than two days. That you and I had a past, and I could tell you anything. All because of the way you said my name. So when you almost took it away, I lied to keep it.”
Dean only stared at him then, because…what was actually happening? His heart felt like it was beating way too fast, and maybe he knew what was happening. Maybe it was hope. But Castiel was still blushing and they were still standing, facing each other in the same spot they stopped at before.
“You’re special, Dean.” Cas breaks the silence, “I thought so the moment I opened my front door and first saw you, when you greeted me with a grin and a soft ‘hey.’ I thought so when I watched you interact with my dogs, and immediately started telling me how much your little brother would love them. I knew there was something special about you when you actually listened to the answers I gave to your questions, like listening was the best trait you could ever have. Did you know that you sing when putting the leashes on the dogs? You do. You sing as if its natural to you, and you’re good, and that’s special.” He breathes, and smiles, “You have a lot of freckles, I lose count every time I try to find the sum of them all, but I’m never giving up. And your eyes tell stories. They’re young and old all at once. It took me a while to notice that because, well, I guess I have a weakness for green. Did you know that’s my favorite color now? It changed two months ago. Because something special changed it. You changed me in the smallest ways, and I hadn’t even gotten to know you yet. So if you ask me, you’re pretty damn special, Dean.”
They’re closer now, and whether it was Dean or Cas who filled the gap that was once between them, he couldn’t tell. But Dean was tasting the lips he had been staring at for weeks now, the ones he had been dreaming out almost every night, and they were tasting his right back. It was a good thing that the dogs were well trained, because Dean had dropped the leashes and cupped the other mans face in an instant, and the dogs stayed put. He was pretty sure Cas dropped the leashes he held too, because Dean could feel a strong grip on his waist, one that became even stronger when he was pushed up against a tree, and then soft again when they reached up around his neck. The soft breathy moans leaving Cas’ lips and floating onto Dean’s, caused him to kiss even harder, and it wasn’t until a few seconds after that, that he realized maybe they could use some air.
“You’re pretty special too, Cas.” He says in between gasping breathes, and keeps his hand cupped around Castiel’s face, smiling when the other man leans into it. They stay like that for a while, grinning like idiots and breathing, Dean is trying to memorize Cas’ face as Cas begins to count his freckles again.
And Dean can’t seem to get rid of his smile after that, not even when they decide to continue on their walk, holding hands and daring to hold all of the dogs with the other. It’s worth the risk, Dean thinks. He even smiles when he drops Cas off at home, and helps him put the dogs away. Of course he’s smiling during their goodbye kiss (is it a goodbye kiss when it lasts for twenty minutes?) and he smiles all the way home.
A week later, when he’s back at Cas’ front door to pick up the dogs, he has the biggest smile yet. Because, there is no walk that day. There’s only the inside of a bedroom and the sloppiness of eager, long awaited, kisses. And Dean thinks, as Cas falls asleep on his arm and the dogs bark from outside of the room, that…yeah. Together, with all of this, they’re pretty damn special.
When I was quite young–I’m not sure how young, but young enough that we
were living with my grandmother in her big house in Salem, with the
bedroom that was painted chocolate brown and the kitchen wallpaper made
of pressed leaves–I used to believe that there was something that stood
behind me in the bathroom.
The bathroom in question was long and
narrow and had two pictures of some stylized city, rendered in ceramic.
The buildings were unglazed clay and the rooftops and domes were in
bright orange. The bathroom always smelled like my grandmother’s body
powder, which I learned much later smelled like freesias.
seemed to me, looking in the enormous bathroom mirror, that I could see
every part of the bathroom except the spot directly behind me, so that
was where the unseen creature must be standing.
I didn’t know
what it looked like. I had a vague feeling it was grey and shadowy and
very flat, with long arms. I thought it would probably have eyes, but no
mouth, but that was only a guess.
If I moved suddenly, it moved
with me. At first, I thought it was just much faster than me, but that
seemed sort of improbable–and when my mother would come into the
bathroom, it wouldn’t matter how fast it was, it might risk being caught
because there wouldn’t be any place it could stand that one of us
couldn’t see it.
I decided that it must be able to see the
future. I wasn’t sure if it could see my entire future, but it could
certainly see a good few minutes in advance. If somebody else came into
the bathroom, it would know long before it happened, so it would flow
into the hidden spot behind the door, and it would know when the people
were both looking in the same direction, and it would slip out the door
and wait somewhere safe, like the top of the cupboards, or the hall
closet. You could probably fit a number of them in the hall closet.
bathroom was the place it was closest to me, because the only spot I
couldn’t see was so close behind me. It was also the only place I gave
it much thought, because I had the attention span of a small child and
unless I was actively staring in the mirror, I was easily distracted by
books or Legos or my grandmother’s collection of brass animals.
was a little unsettled by the presence of the unseen thing, but I
wasn’t actually afraid. I was actually rather proud of myself for having
figured out how it worked. Then it occurred to me that maybe they
didn’t so much tell the future as read our minds so that it knew what we
would do next, and then that it must know that I knew it existed. I
wondered if my thing and other people’s things would get together and
discuss that a human had worked out how they were hiding just out of
sight. (Everyone must have a thing of their own, of course. My mother’s
would be larger than mine, and my grandmother’s slower and probably
inclined to hang out in the family room and not get up much.)
notion of my own predestination did not particularly bother me. God
already knew what I was going to do next, so presumably other things
could too. I was a little more concerned that they might have to pull me
aside, since now I knew, and tell me that I couldn’t tell anyone. I
assumed this meeting would also happen in the hall closet.
thing was much more benign than whatever shadowy things lurk in the
mirror when it’s dark (which I am still somewhat afraid of to this day.)
They just hid near you. Guardian angels were part of my vague
cosmology, and adults were positively soppy about guardian angels, so
obviously it was fine if there was something assigned to you that
followed you around all the time. It didn’t seem to be hurting anything,
and I was frequently alone with it, so if it was going to do something
bad, it would have already done it. And my mother had one, and she was a
grown-up, so they must follow you around for years and years without
Eventually I grew up and forgot all about it.
publisher got me a copy of “Deep Dark Fears” for Christmas and one of
them is about a thing standing just behind you, and that clicked off a
whole chain of memories. I particularly remember that I had worked out
that the thing must be able to see the future. I could not have
articulated this to any adult very well, but it was very clear in my
Kim Kardashian got her vagina out this week in a desperate attempt to break the internet. Sadly for her, the internet remained rather unscathed. If you listened very very carefully… you may have heard a few eyelashes batting, and maybe a few women lightly banging their heads on desks and nearby walls, as Madame West proudly shot us through a cannon, 500 years backwards.
The question I really want to ask.. is… Kanye was there at the shoot, so WHY DIDN’T HE JOIN IN AND GET HIS DICK OUT? Why have I still not seen Kanye’s penis?! I feel as though he OWES us a glimpse of his bell end. We have been treated to more of his wife of late, than we have since we first met her with a mouthful of Ray Jay. Where is the equality here? If it’s art, why not partake in the picture, in the moment?
The thing is, Kanye, and the magazine and the photographer, and whoever marinaded Kim Kardashian in honey on the day, will argue, that so much of the great and iconic art dating hundreds of years back, consisted of masterpieces of nude women. But that was also a time when women were considered little more in society than the mothers of children, and the bosom upon which a man shall lie. None of the great renaissance artists we speak of were women, none of the inventors, authors or scientists, and it wasn’t until a few hundred years later that women became prolific writers, (though sadly even then, mostly under the guise of male pen names, or posthumously.) Women had no platform that didn’t revolve around being an object of beauty, eating grapes on a fucking chez lounge.
What was refreshing at that time, is that at least there were also a fair few men’s nudes of that era. There are many a bollock that decorate the sistine chapel in The Vatican. I’ve personally stood looking up and seen them dangle over my head. They are spectacular. Well done Michelangelo for recognising that the body can just be the body and needs not to be used as currency. It was an equal display of the miracle of the human form.
But in this day and age, men are afforded modesty and encouraged to strive for respect that revolves around their intellect, talent and skill. No part of that involves anything from the waist down. You know what would break the internet? Jay Z separating his bum cheeks with a rope on the cover of a magazine. The same way his wife did in her video for Partition. Because, you know, he’s proud of his body, and proud to be sexual for his wife, and because it’s empowering that he can do what he wants with his genitals in public. You know?
The thing is, Kim Kardashian is outraged that she isn’t taken seriously for more than her body. But she has proven time and time again, that she is worth little more than the flesh on her bones. While i am so glad she exists because I credit the Kardashian girls alone for finally giving us some normal sized beautiful women to have penetrating our attention spans via the media and therefore encouraging a healthy body attitude in young women, essentially… I really only credit the MACHINE behind them. You see that’s what the normal girls getting their tits out on Instagram don’t realise. When they get the hits without any of the actual fame and money, they haven’t worked out, that Kim has little to do with her own success. Her “momager” extraordinaire, Kris Jenner, who has little to no ethics about exploiting all of her children for fame and money, is a business GENIUS. An unrivalled marketing maverick. her father is also, and not for a great reason, one of the most famous lawyers of all time. Not to mention the PR teams behind the Kardashians, the TV producers, the fucking entire E! Network. And her certified gold status as a member of society is down to the fact that she is now married to one of the most charismatic musical prodigies of all time. Kanye has the kind of musical innovation of his time that can stand up amongst Mozart, Cole Porter and the Beatles. (My god does he know it… but still… the man is outstanding.) These are All fully clothed, educated and intelligent people who run on a hamster wheel behind the scenes to make Kim’s buttock’s count for something. NOBODY TELLS THE LITTLE GIRLS WHO IDOLISE HER LIFE ,THIS! Without an army behind you, no amount of filtered shots of your bum crack will take you to the top.
I remember my first ever photoshoot in my life, when I was 22 was for a men’s magazine. I had been promised dresses, upon arrival I was greeted only with swim suits. I was horrified. But I was young and being quietly but heavily pressured, as if it was my fault for everyone being there, so I just had to get on with it. And the photos, while very beautifully and tastefully done, still make me sad to this day, I will never forgive myself for relenting that one time. I cried on set, and I never did it again… The thing is, It’s a man who ran that shoot, it’s a man who owns the label that Miley is signed to. It’s a man who owns the label Rihanna is signed to. It’s men who design the majority of the barely there gowns they wear, and it is men who are the owners of the magazines that pretend to celebrate them, distracting them with the spotlight, whilst carefully pick pocketing them of their actual long term worth. Of what their legacy will be. It’s an incredible diversion tactic. And one that I cannot believe is still being gotten away with. Willingly by girls who should know better, and still don’t have the confidence to demand more.
Miley will always be remembered for fingering herself with a giant foam hand alongside the face of musical rape culture (Robin Thicke, not that unutterable prick, Dapper Laughs.) Rihanna (while unbelievably stunning and a wonderful performer) will mostly be remembered for the songs she wrote written by and profited by men, and god forbid, that time she put a shower hose in her knickers, and Beyonce, god willing will put the dildo down and go back to being the spectacular powerhouse who inspired women around the world for literally decades. She did it in short shorts, but she was nobody’s little princess.
These women have charisma, and timeless beauty, they have talent and showmanship (Not necessarily Kim.) They have an arresting and divine sexual power that I applaud, and the platform to pave the way for a new generation that doesn’t need to worry about anal bleaching when preparing for their future success. Rather than carving out the perfect picture of a nipple, why not push the line forward and make a god damn road the rest of us can walk down, with our heads held high, and our precise value intact. Take the knife and cut the cords that take us to our liberty.
It’s hard to run as fast as a man when he’s wearing trainers and jogging pants, and we’re tottering on stripper heels with a G string riding up our backsides.
We have come so far. We are doctors, we cure cancer, we fight in the war, we write, we campaign, we make art that matters, we God damn count. What are we doing?
Kim Kardashian. You didn’t break the internet. You broke my fucking heart.
”Kissing is more intimate than sex….Because it’s just something way deeper than, like, I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s a more personal situation than sex.” -August Alsina
He watched her go from mad to furious within seconds. To keep the peace, he remained quiet. Not a word came from her end either which made him think she was going to explode very soon. They sat just a few yards away from their apartment on campus in the car, waiting for the storm to pass. The rain poured from the sky without any sign of stopping. It caused them to both grow impatient before Solana wanted out.
“God, I can’t wait no more,” she huffed, slamming the car door behind.
August twisted his face up in annoyance for her breaking a rule about Aubrey. He hated when people mistreated his ride. In his mind, she was making things worse because she wanted her way. It was typical when she was mad.
He watched her trudge to the front door as quickly as she could, only to see her locked out. She relentlessly banged on the glass doors leading to the lobby without entry before searching her pockets for something.
Then it dawned on August what Solana was missing to get inside—her student ID card. He chuckled to himself while he fished both his and her card from the pocket of his jeans. It slipped his mind that he offered to hold on to them in case she misplaced them like she did a lot of things. He followed suit, abandoning the car and joining her at the front doors. The rain didn’t really bother him, but her attitude did.
“I need to use the bathroom so sometime today would be nice,” she expressed with her arms outstretched. “Shoulda let me keep my own damn card.”
“Aye, kill all that noise Lana. It’s never that deep ya heard me.”
Once he let her inside and handed over the keys to their place, she ran off for the first available elevator. He shook his head while he noticed the small trail of water she left behind. Out came a guy with an iPad in his hand. He introduced himself as a fellow staff member on campus, ready to assist August as the rain seemed to ease up a bit.
Two was always better than one.
In about half the time it took him to pack the car, everything was unloaded in their apartment on the second floor. He thanked the guy for his assistance before taking in his new living quarters with the finishing touches.
The space was contemporary and fit for both of them. There was a living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms joined together by a large bathroom. Courtesy of Solana’s mother, the place was fully furnished. A large couch complete with end tables and lamps, a coffee table, and a huge flat-screen made August feel at home already. There was a desk and a queen sized bed in each of their rooms. All they had to do was unpack and their new lives would be ready to begin.
“I called my mom. Told her we were good,” Solana said, approaching her largest suitcase in the living room.
“Want me to help you with–”
“No. I got it. You’ve honestly done enough. I just need a shower.”
August raised his hands to indicate that he’d let her win and have her way. “Aight, cool.”
Once she was closed off in her room, he headed for the kitchen to find some food. The cabinets were empty and there was only a few dozen water bottles in the fridge. That damn sure wouldn’t be enough. Especially not for now.
He decided to order from the nearest pizza spot and save the unpacking for later. Since his clothes were still damp, he stripped out of them and only sported his boxer briefs. After emptying his pockets, he settled on the couch with contentment. Despite Solana’s attitude, he was just grateful they had arrived safe and sound. He easily found a game to watch on TV and asked for Siri to pull up phone numbers. After dialing the Pizza Hut at the top of the list, he asked for almost $50 worth of food. Two large pizza pies, bread sticks, buffalo wings, cookies, and drinks concluded the order. He knew the food wouldn’t go to waste because the munchies were bound to kick in soon.
During a commercial break, August muted the TV, taking a moment to acknowledge his brother. He snatched up a lighter and a pre-rolled blunt on the coffee table from his pocket.
“This here for you Mel,” he muttered, sparking the joint. “You the reason I want betta for myself. Hope ya got peace on the other side big bro.”
He inhaled, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment of silence before exhaling with good intentions. That’s all he could hope for his college experience. He wanted nothing more than for things to run smoothly and to make Melvin proud.
The kush hit the spot and alleviated the built up tension in his body. He easily puffed out clouds and smoke rings like a veteran. All he needed was food and a blowjob before a good night sleep would have him feeling a hundred percent again. He remained higher than the sky with a free hand lounging under the waistband of his briefs and the basketball plays making him chuckle every time a free throw was missed and a pass turned into a steal for the home team. When he smoked, everything was actually funny.
He laughed louder this time, thinking his high was fucking with his mental state. But when he was summoned by his full name in a harsher tone warped with anxiety, he got up to discard the roach and see if Solana was okay.
“Now she want a nigga,” he chuckled to himself.
It baffled him how women could go from hating to wanting a guy all in the span of a few moments. The unbalanced mindset just didn’t make sense to him. As he approached the bathroom through his bedroom, he asked what she needed.
“You know my favorite towel? The big plush one with the swimming dolphins?” she questioned behind the closed door. “I need it. It’s in my blue suitcase in the living room.”
“Wait, what’s the magic word?” he joked.
“Say it So-la-na Rowe.”
She sighed with frustration. “Breath mints!”
He almost doubled over in laughter from the Fresh Prince insider. It was definitely one of their favorites to watch together. For being a good sport, he sorted through the luggage and found the beloved towel. He returned grinning from ear to ear before asking her to open the door. When she did, steam filed out into his room from the bathroom and he caught a good glimpse of forbidden fruit. Nothing was funny anymore.
“Thanks. Love you,” she hurriedly said, leaving him to face a closed door again.
August rubbed a hand over his head while blowing a stream of air. He didn’t want to admit it, but he shared a spark of sexual tension with his best friend. And honestly, this wasn’t the first time.
He attempted to leave the feeling where it started to keep it from escalating. After grabbing a water bottle from the fridge to help him rid the inevitable cotton-mouth, he decided to chill back on the couch until the food arrived.
It didn’t stop his mind from wandering though.
As horny as he was, he could envision the bathroom encounter happening a bit differently.
He could’ve locked them both inside the steam filled room and kissed Solana to quiet her confusion. He wouldn’t need her guidance on how to please because he already had a good grip on the subject.
August was a born natural.
There would only be two things he wanted to do: taste her and make her scream. After taking in the curves of her lips, hips, and thighs, he’d sit her wet body on the counter and spread her legs apart. He’d lick over her slits and folds, teasing her clit along the way with his tongue. That would surely produce a waterfall from her center. He’d suck and drink and keep a keen ear out for her harmonious moans. Since he believed sharing was caring, he’d move to kiss her mouth and let her sample just how good she tasted.
To up the tension, he’d turn her around to bend over the counter and face the mirror. He’d gather her long wet and wild curly hair in one hand and then trail the tip of his tongue up her spine. He could guarantee she’d shiver from the gesture, especially once he reached the back of her neck and whispered how long he’s waited to show her this side of him. One smack to her ass and he’d be naked and hard as a rock inside her—looking down as he pushed in and pulled out—only for the friction of their bodies to glisten with pleasure.
It’d be the best pussy he ever had.
He wouldn’t want to stop and she wouldn’t want him to either. Eventually, they’d eye each other through the foggy reflection as the intensity skyrockets. She’d be bound to ask for more and he’d give it to her while rocking her thick frame to cause her legs to get weak. His swollen dick would pressure her spot and he’d move his hands to grip her waist for control. She’d cry out then, surrendering herself to an orgasm too big for her to handle as he busts the nut of a lifetime.
Yeah, he could see that happening.
But then, he couldn’t.
August doubted that things would ever get to that point for them. Solana just wasn’t that type of girl to him. She meant more than a random fuck, and since her innocence was still intact, he didn’t want to be the one to break it.
He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the sexual daydream. At that moment, the buzzer to the apartment sounded through the space. Food would definitely get him to refocus his attention on other things.
“Baby… Babe… Baby… Sweetie… Lovebug… Sugarbum…” He whispered, placing a kiss on my exposed shoulder between each ridiculous name that passed his lips.
“What do you want, Harry?” I mumbled into my pillows, almost ready to succumb to sleep.
“Watch a movie with me?” I could hear the pout in his voice.
“M’tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“But you can sleep after the show… or during the show if you want. Please watch it.”
I ignored his last few pleas, pretending I was asleep instead. He finally stopped, and I felt him move out of the small bunk to go watch his movie somewhere else. He knew better than to wake me when I was tired like this.
I didn’t wake for at least three hours. Harry whispered my name, followed by a few more pet names, trying to coax me out of my self induced coma.
“Are you coming to the show, love?” He whispered.
I opened my eyes ever so slightly, just enough to allow myself to see him.
“Are you coming to the show? You can stay here and sleep if you want.”
“No… I’ll go.” I forced out, letting my voice be muffled by the pillow.
He gave me a little smile and stood up from his spot on the floor next to the bunk. I watched his legs make their way back to where the suitcases were. I listened to him unzip a bag as I slowly woke my tired body. I sat up as best I could in the confined space of the bunk, letting my arms stretch out in front of me and a yawn escape my lips.
“It’s a little chilly out.” Harry said, handing me a jumper as I stood up.
“Thank you.” I grumbled, pulling it over my already present bed head.
He chuckled and ran his fingers through it a few times, letting me rest my cheek against his chest.
“Did you have a nice nap?”
I hummed in response, letting another yawn out.
“You can stay if you want, I really don’t mind.”
“No, I want to go. I can always get security to take me back here if I want to.”
I felt him nod before pulling me away from him with his hands on my shoulders.
“We should go.”
He pulled a hair band off of his wrist and handed it to me. I chuckled and took it from him, placing my unruly hair in a bun on top of my head.
“You’re such a helpful boyfriend.”
He grinned slightly, probably feeling proud.
“I know. Now c’mon.”
He took my hand and led me to the front of the bus.
I walked into the dressing room, half naked, looking around for the shirt that Lou had pointed me in the direction of, but I had yet to find. I searched through a the racks of clothes and tried to find a suitable replacement, but I was set on this shirt. I scavenged the rest of the room but came up empty handed.
I sighed and made my way back to the large green room where everyone else was. I walked through the door and looked around once again, trying to spot it, but I had no luck. I took second scan of the room and saw her sitting on a couch with Ashton, Michael, and Louis, watching something on a computer screen, all of them laughing.
Normally, this wouldn’t have any effect on me. She was just watching a movie or something with my mates. It’s not like I could keep them away from her, we were all stuck in confined areas together every single day. Besides, they were my friends, not random guys on the street who tried to undress her with their eyes.
I watched as they continued to laugh at whatever was on the screen, and I felt a slight ping in my chest. I didn’t know why, but a slight frown began to grace my lips as I watched them. No one seemed to notice my staring, they all just continued their business around me. I stood there with my hands draped at my sides, not really knowing what else to do.
One of my biggest insecurities was that I had such a big problem with overprotectiveness. I wasn’t actually jealous of them spending time with her, but for some reason it still hurt to see her laughing with them and not me.
“You alright, mate?” Niall said cheerfully from behind me, making me turn around and see him there on his damn segway.
“Uh, yeah. M’good.” I answered, not forgetting about the scene behind me.
He said something else and then let out one of his signature laughs, but I didn’t quite catch it. My mind was still reeling, and her hand on my bicep didn’t help my attention span.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” She asked quietly.
“Fine.” I mumbled, pulling away from her touch and walking back to the door which I had entered through, still determined to find that shirt.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” She followed right after me.
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re a shit liar.”
I sighed and turned around once I found my way into another random, empty room.
“Why were you watching a movie with them? You wouldn’t watch one with me.” I pouted slightly, letting my shoulder slump.
“Oh, Harry.” She cooed, chuckling.
“Don’t laugh.” I said, trying to be stern.
“I happened to sit down there and then they started watching a movie. And I didn’t watch one with you because I was extremely tired, like I told you.”
She stepped closer to me and rubbed my bare arm.
“There’s no need to be upset.”
I nodded, still pouting.
“M’sorry… I don’t mean to be like this. I just can’t help it. I missed you a lot.” I said feebly, feeling embarrassed about how I was feeling.
“I know, and I missed you. We’ll watch a movie after the show, okay?”
I nodded again, letting my arms envelope her smaller figure. I squeezed her tightly, scared that she might crumble right then and there if I didn’t hold her together. Sometimes I wished I could just hug her so tightly that she would become part of me. That way we would never have to be apart.
“Haz… Air.” She squeaked against my warm chest.
“Oh. Sorry…” I muttered, letting her go.
She giggled and leaned up on her toes to kiss me.
“Now, let’s find you a shirt, mister.” She said, tapping my chest with her finger.
We didn’t find the shirt, and twenty minutes before the show started I was still walking around exposing my chest to everyone.
“Jesus, Harry. It’s right here.” Lou said, sounding irritated as she picked the shirt up off a chair.
“Oh. Didn’t look there.”
I took it from her and held it in my hands. I glanced back over my shoulder, seeing her sitting back on the couch with Louis and Ashton again, giggling at the screen. For some strange reason, the ping came back. I stared at her, the same intense look from earlier returning.
She looked up from the screen, causing our eyes to meet. She recognized my expression and stuck her tongue out, making her eyes squint in this adorable way.
I couldn’t keep a smile back if I wanted to. I threw the shirt over my head, finally covering my torso, knowing that everything was fine and good in the world again.
Favorite part of your anatomy and favorite part of the female anatomy.
I’m pretty slight for a 31 year old man. That means I’m not in a very good position to be proud of my arms or legs because I see myself as kind of scrawny.
That slightness does give me the opportunity to take advantage of the fact that (through no real effort of my own) I have a little definition in my stomach and chest, so I like to show that off as much as I can because it seems like that’s something that a lot of people work very hard on obtaining.
Having a dick is pretty nice too. It gets a little bothersome from time to time but typically, the whole dick situation is something I’d recommend trying. I also kind of like that only a relatively small number of people have seen all of me. Having a dick is like playing a single hand of poker your entire life until you and whoever you’ve gotten together with are ready to throw your cards on the table and pull in your winnings.
That’s not to say I would pass up on an opportunity to take a vagina for a test drive. The whole menstruation thing seems kind of painful and scary but some of that info on the number of nerve endings in those things is definitely intriguing…. but I’m getting off topic.
As far as what I love about women’s bodies… I’d like to answer this as thoroughly as I can… but if you have a short attention span, the final paragraph will be the actual answer you asked for. Also pardon me if I’m forward but when I’m discussing favorite anatomical parts, the conversation is about sexuality for me. As much as I like to draw or just look at women, the honest truth is that I like sex more than I like art.
Every part of a woman has a nuanced beauty and elegance.
For example, I’m not one of those foot guys, but I’ve had a few toes against my lips in my day. Not every toe I’ve ever encountered, mind you. Just the exquisite ones… and there are some sexy toes out there even if toes aren’t usually your thing.
Up until a few years ago, I never appreciated the booty to any great degree. Lately, though there have been a few asses that I honestly would do some pretty desperate things to get my face up against… mmmmm butt cheeks.
Boobs are cool too. They’re all so soft and warm. I actually really love small breasts but honestly, the bigger ones are… like… REAL cool in my book too. Even the augmented ones. I know people have their complaints concerning what’s “real” but from my point of view, there’s no real sense of them being hard (that seems to be the main fake boob complaint) since I don’t have my own to compare them against. They’re no less valid than how they would be without augmentation. They’re just there and they’re still warm. Still smooth. Still… so nice.
What was I saying?
Legs make me thank God for the prevalence of tights in our culture. Thighs and calves are so nice and a great place to just spend a few dozen minutes enjoying the feel of skin on your fingertips. I’ve never been with anyone who didn’t keep her legs bare but I’ve definitely been with women who have stressed more than I thought they should about keeping their legs smooth. If leg hair is as soft as other hair, it might be kind of nice. I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.
Hair (like on your head) is always a gorgeous and unique territory as well. Women do such wonderful things with their hair. They make it all kinds of bright and dark colors. They put it up. They let it cascade over their shoulders. It can frame their faces to make them look like completely different people from moment to moment. And underneath is her scalp. We never talk about the scalp as an attractive body part but it’s incredible. If you’re reading this, think back a time when you’ve had your lover leaning back against your chest and you’ve rested your lips and nose against the top of his or her head and breathed in that “top of head smell”. (and if you’ve never had a lover, please look forward to this.) There is no scent more human and certainly no perfume as alluring. Knowing that the feeling of fingertips and even fingernails against scalp is so intensely relaxing and comforting makes women with short hair more attractive in a certain way as well. The concept of being able to run my fingers completely through a woman’s hair from top of neck to front of temples is an almost irresistible notion. Then again, so is the feeling of long thick hair draped across my chest. It really is all good.
I think everyone has beautiful eyes if you’re close enough to really look at them. Obviously some are more striking or unique than others but please always let the one you love look into your eyes. Side note: I fucking HATE colored contacts. They never look natural. They’re spooky and dumb jerk idiot things.
Generally, skin is heaven. It can be imperfect and hard to maintain but if one can manage to keep it (mostly) smooth and soft, it turns a body into a theme park in which I want to go on all the rides. Of course we all have blemishes and scars and moles and whatnot but they’re also what makes a body unique and fun to explore so it’s good to have all of those things too. Tattoos are… meh. I’ve never seen a tattoo artist make art that’s as beautiful as the blank canvas would have been. That being said, body art can say some very appealing things about a person’s personality. I just think it could be said in henna just as well.
So, as a man who loves the serene undulation of smooth fields of skin, the torso is.. a place I could see vacationing for a long, long time. There’s so much skin that’s so rarely touched on a woman’s back. And on her stomach and flanks. And when something’s rarely touched it’s sensitive, which is an incredible opportunity to become closer to her.
I could write a book about vulvas. Let’s just say vulvas are disqualified from the attractive body part competition because you can’t typically see or experience them in any way until you already know you’re attracted in so many other ways… but god damn it I love those things.
There are only a couple of things left. The first is the arms and hands. I find that these can be amazingly attractive in their own way but I find that women are generally much more attracted to hands and arms than men are. Typically, women’s arms have to maintain a strange balance between lean muscular strength and gentle softness that I can’t really define in order for them to be really noteworthy. Hands speak to me more in the sense that I like feeling them on me rather than seeing them as beautiful objects. Typically, the women I meet have surprising wear and tear on their hands which can be a beautiful story once you get to that point but more often than not, hands are just hands to me.
So, here’s where I actually answer your question, anonymous.
I think that the most (physically) beautiful part of a woman is between her shoulders, below her chin and above her chest. A long, slender neck with a sharply defined jawline set atop the fierce and grave lines of a symmetrical set of collar bones is where my lips are meant to rest while I sleep and when I need comforting and when we are most intimate. Her stress culminates there and she shrugs when she cries if things become hard for her. Her skin becomes flushed there when she is overwhelmed with anger or lust or both. Her hair hides it from me and calls me to pull it back so that I can visit it again. Her entire life flows through that delicate path and she exposes that to me if and when she trusts me… and at THAT moment, I feel like I am hers and she is mine. Whether it’s my fingers or my palms or my lips or even my teeth slowly but firmly sinking in, she trusts me with her life when she trusts me with that most fragile and sensitive area. That’s why it’s the most beautiful part of her.