regretting my decision not to add one

Klaine Valentines Challenge Drabble - “Come up to Meet You” (Rated T)

When Blaine Anderson meets Kurt on the streets of New York, Blaine can’t believe his eyes. He’s been waiting to meet Kurt in the flesh for so long. The only problem is that Kurt can’t fathom why … or how Blaine knows who he is. (1559 words)

Written for the Klaine Valentines Challenge Prompt Day 2 “Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop”

Read on AO3.

“Kurt? Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt plucks the earbud out of his left ear when he hears his name weave in between songs.

“Is that really you?”

Kurt, who had stopped outside of Starbucks to check his text messages, looks up as a young man approaches, eyes widening beneath enviably long, dark lashes, staring at Kurt as if Kurt was Clark Gable reincarnate.

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after fake ah crew ryan makes the inevitable mistake of mentioning to the rest of the crew that ryan is actually his middle name, there’s a crew-wide mad scramble to be the first person to figure out what ryan’s first name is

after gavin’s attempt (searching for records with ryan’s full name) and ray’s attempt (following ryan around for two straight hours continuously saying “tell me what it is. tell me what it is. tell me what it–”) fail miserably, the crew starts just shouting whatever they’re guessing is ryan’s complete name at full volume at any given moment during the day

typically, these guesses start normal and get progressively more ridiculous.

  • “brad ryan haywood, do we need any eggs?” michael shouts across seven aisles at the grocery store.
  • “nathaniel ryan haywood, i need more ammo!” gavin yelps mid-heist, to the intense confusion of like six cops in the immediate area.
  • “thaddeus ryan haywood the third, i probably should have picked a shorter name because there’s a live grenade at your feet,” ray hollers cheerfully.
  • “elizabeth ryan haywood, i will not tolerate behavior like that on a heist,” geoff says like a dad, wincing when ryan just keeps firing rockets out the window of the car.
  • “juan filipe ryan haywood, i will turn this car around,” jack adds like a mom, grinning when ryan twists around in his seat to shout really?

“it’s james!” ryan shouts one afternoon, after a string of names ryan’s pretty sure are found only in high fantasy novels. “it’s fucking james, oh my god.”

sulking, gavin hands a stack of bills over to a triumphant geoff.

ray wrinkles his nose. “i think i liked thaddeus better,” he says. “i’m just gonna keep calling you thaddeus.”

RAY.”

How to Run a Stress-Free Cosplay Meetup

I’ve been running cosplay meetups for almost three years now. That’s longer than either of us have actually been cosplaying! Since then, I’ve learned a lot about keeping things engaging for those at the meet, while also keeping the experience less hectic and more fun for us. 

(There are ten games represented in this photo, and somehow we made it work!)

A lot of people ask for tips on running their own meets, so I thought I would put together a guide on how to prep, run the meet, and follow up afterward. It’s a little lengthy, but I think I covered all the bases. Let me know if you have any questions! I love meets and I’m happy to help! 

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Time Will Tell

Shepard leaned heavily on the railing. She felt as though her mind was being ripped apart from the inside and she couldn’t seem to focus. Her gaze drifted around the war room slowly, registering small bits of information flashing on screens and displays as her eyes passed them by. So many worlds were falling or already lost. The Normandy was one of the few glimmers of hope that the many people of the galaxy had anymore. Anderson and Hackett had reminded her of that fact many times. But were they doing enough? Had they uncovered everything that they possibly could? Was there more to this weapon of mass destruction they were attempting to build? How, exactly, would they go about using it?

She sighed and cast her gaze at the ground, pressing her weight almost entirely on her arms because her knees felt as though they were going to buckle at any moment. It was simply too much. Too much for one ship, too much for one crew, too much for one commander to manage.

That moment of utter despair caused her to miss the approach of a friendly face. She’d barely noticed when a small bar, wrapped in familiar packaging crossed her line of sight. Liara offered a snack with a sheepish smile, knowing that the commander had forgotten to eat. Again.

“Thanks,” Shepard quietly said as she accepted the rations.

“It’s a challenge to find you these days and make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Liara responded.

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4

I WANT TO ADD TO MY FAVORITE PHOTOS OF 2015 because I forgot I took some nice photos of other people’s rats & I only looked through my folder of my rats & so I missed some good ones & now I regret this decision but I cannot edit the original post because it’s already been reblogged.  so this will just be part 2 or whatever.

1. Brooklyn, owned by @gotchakatjaa (1/31/15)
2. Zeni, owned by @mayisay-ilovedyoumore (8/16/15)
3. Aphrodite, owned by @a-l-m-o-s-t–l-o-v-e-r (5/10/15)
4. Juneau, owned by @karasratworld (5/9/15)


Unlikely Love (Part Four)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three


I walk into the bathroom because there’s no way I can go to sleep this hot and bothered. I turn on the shower and strip as steam fills the room. I step into the hot shower, marveling at the fact that this, right here, is where Harry has spent plenty of time naked. The thought of him, hot, tanned, and dripping wet while he massages shampoo into his curly locks and suds drip down his muscular body does not help my turned on state.

I revel in the feeling of the water traveling down my exhausted body as I imagine Harry being here with me, rather than sleeping in the living room. He’d hold me close, nuzzling his face into my neck to leave wet, sloppy kisses. His hands would wander all over my body, spending an obscene amount of time on my ass, squeezing, rubbing, and occasionally slapping it. My hands would run up and down his arms and back, while I press my body as close to his as possible.

Outside of my filthy imagination, my body does something equally as filthy, my hand traveling down my body to rest just above my pussy, fingers dipping into my lips to find my wonderful bundle of nerves. My fingers follow their familiar pattern of small, gentle circles while my imagination follows its also familiar pattern of thoughts of Harry.

If Harry were here, we’d continue to kiss beneath the running water until our muscles were released of tension. My hands would travel to his cock, gently stroking it as Harry leans down, taking one of my nipples into his mouth. I’d rest one hand on his head, holding him close to me, and playing with his hair. After a moment, I’d bend down until I’m on my knees in front of him, his long cock bobbing up and down in front of my face, its bright pink color contrasting with the dark bed of curls at his base, sprinkled with droplets of water. I’d rest my hands on his thighs, covered in a sprinkling of fine hairs, while I lean in, taking his tip into my  mouth, tongue toying at his slit. He’d bury one hand in my hair, the other would rest against the shower wall to hold him steady.

Glancing up, my eyes would travel up his V, taking in his muscular stomach, the butterfly fluttering slightly with his ragged breaths. His pecks would clench with the strain of holding up his weak body. And then there would be his face, oh god, his face. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his mouth would be in an O shape, emitting quiet moans, and his eyes, those damn green eyes, would be staring down at me, filled with inexplicable awe. I would take the rest of his cock into my mouth, deep-throating him, and he’d release a hiss of pleasure which combined with the hiss of the water.

He’d thrust into my mouth, impossibly deeper, and I would run my tongue back and forth along his shaft, making him tremble. Next, he’d pull out of my mouth, causing me confusion, and he’d climb down with me, pushing me gently onto my back. The water would follow his kisses down my stomach. He’d settle his mouth at the top of my pussy, and he’d kiss it gently.

He’d tease me with his lips, fingers pulling me apart for him. Once I’m quivering for his touch, he’d finally give me what I’m yearning for. He’d lick me slowly, seductively, his green eyes boring into mine. He’d toy with my clit, fingers playing at my entrance. Eventually he’d take my clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making me scream out.

The sound of the door opening yanks me from my filthy daydream as I grab a towel as quickly as I can to cover myself.

“Harry!?!?” I shout.

“Y/N!?!? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine!” I shout again, nervous and angry. That was one hell of a daydream…

“I heard you screaming…” He says, his face full of worry, arms flexed with nervous tension.

“Oh, ummm…yeah,” I say nervously. “I almost fell…” I lie.

“Repeatedly?” He asks.

“Ummm, yeah?” I say.

He takes a moment to take me all in, wet, in the shower, barely covered with one of his towels.

“Oh,” he says, realization dawning on him and for once, he actually blushes in nervousness. “Sorry for…interrupting.” He finishes.

I can’t help but laugh at that and I shake my head. Unbelievable.

“Can I have some privacy now?” I ask.

“Do you really want it?” He asks, winking, and returning to his normal, cocky self.

“Maybe,” I say slyly, looking down nervously.

“It’s up to you, gorgeous,” he smiles, that beautiful, irresistible smile, complete with his prominent dimple.

“Not now, I think…” I say, considering the possibility of Harry and I actually crossing that boundary tonight.

I lift my hand to my lips, knawing my fingernail nervously. I glance up at him and he’s standing there, shirtless, muscles taut, shorts riding very low revealing a bit of his dark brown pubic hair. No. I shake my head. I can’t.

“Maybe later, Harry,” I smile sheepishly.

“Alright love, but I will take you up on that. You look good in nothing but a towel. Goodnight,” he nods, giving me one last onceover that I can feel in my bones, and leaves.

I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and step out of the shower, drying off quickly and changing back into Harry’s clothes. Though I never got to come, the shower was extremely relaxing and I’m beginning to realize just how exhausted I am. I crawl into Harry’s bed, silver sheets enveloping me as I take comfort in the scent of him.

I breathe deeply as my body relaxes, melting into the bed. What an insane day this has been.


I wake up to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. I stumble out of Harry’s bedroom down the hall until I reach the kitchen.

“Morning,” Harry says with a cheery smile.

“Morning,” I respond, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it?”

“9 o'clock, sleepyhead,” he informs me, returning to cooking up whatever he’s got on the stove.

“Yeah, yeah,” I plop down at the kitchen table and yawn loudly, beginning to scroll through my phone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Harry says, shooting me a look.

“Do what?” I ask lazily.

“Go on twitter.”

I look at him, confused, and since he’s piqued my curiosity, I open the app.

I immediately regret that decision as I see my face plastered on nearly ever tweet in my feed. Captions of “What a whore,” “She’s just a beard,” and “She’s fucking ugly, Harry could do so much better,” add to the pain. I continue scrolling as tears fill my eyes. I’d never realized how mean this fandom could be until the hate was aimed at me. I read one last tweet “Harry will never love her, she should just go die,” before I shut off the phone and bury my head in my hands, sobbing.

“I told you not to look, love,” Harry whispers quietly, rushing over to run a comforting hand up and down my back. “They’re awful and cruel and don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re just jealous, I promise.”

I nod, knowing he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I thought we’d get at least a little farther into the relationship before I’d have to deal with this.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I’ve already talked to my lawyers this morning and they’re going to sue those paps for trespassing. I wish I could have hid you better…” He trails off, taking the blame upon himself.

“It’s not your fault, Harry,” I cry, his guilt only making me feel worse.

“I know, I just wish it hadn’t happened,” he sighs, nuzzling his nose to my face and kissing my tear stained cheek.

I lean into his touch, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding him close. His warmth and slow breathing help me relax and put everything into perspective. It’s going to be ok. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be alright.

“C’mon then, let’s get you some food and tea and you’ll feel a million times better,” he says, pecking me on the cheek one last time before getting up off of his knees to continue cooking breakfast.

“Whatcha makin?” I ask curiously, pushing the incident from my mind.

“Crepes and bacon,” he says winking as he flips the crepe in the pan.

“You’re a right chef, aren’t you?” I laugh, rolling my eyes. Of course he’s cooking crepes.

“Mmmhmm,” he replies, concentrating on the food.

I hadn’t realized that he had a kettle on, but when it starts whistling, I get up quickly.

“Nuh uh,” Harry says. “Sit. I’ve got it,” he finishes as he clicks off the burner for the kettle. I walk behind him anyways and rummage through his cupboards to find some tea.

“At least let me help!” I demand, smiling.

“Fine. They’re right here, love,” he says, opening a cupboard to the right. “Do you want Earl Grey, English Breakfast, or Green?” he asks.

“Earl Grey sounds good,” I say grabbing a couple of tea bags out of the cupboard and two mugs as well.

I squeeze around him to grab the kettle and he sneaks a quick kiss to my lips as I do so, making me blush. I can’t keep the smile off my face as I prepare our tea, letting it steep for a few minutes before putting cream and sugar in.

“How much sugar do you want?” I ask.

“Two scoops please, and just a bit of cream,” he replies, flipping the bacon in the sizzling hot pan.

“That’s how I like mine too,” I interject, causing a small close-lipped smile to form on his face.

I set the mugs down on the table and take a seat, my stomach growling as I look forward to the delicious food Harry’s cooked. After a moment, Harry brings me a plate with crepes and bacon, then sets butter, lemon slices, syrup, and jam on the table, allowing me to take my pick. In the mood for something fruity, I grab the strawberry jam and spread it on my crepes as he sits down beside me with a plate of his own.

“Good choice,” he smiles, grabbing the jam from me when I’m finished.

I take a sip of tea before I dig into my plate, reveling in the delicious taste of home cooked food.

“This is delicious, Harry!” I say, honestly shocked at how good it tastes.

He just smiles and nods in response, shoving food into his mouth, sticking his tongue out a bit before each bite, as if to make sure the food reaches his mouth safely. We continue eating in a peaceful silence. Once we’ve finished, Harry takes all the plates to sink and puts the excess food away. I smile watching him move, the way he glides over the floor somehow. Each movement he makes is smooth and elegant and I just don’t understand how someone so graceful can be such a klutz at times. But that’s what Harry is, a walking contradiction.

“Thanks for breakfast, Harry,” I smile.

“ ‘Course, love,” he says, kissing me on the cheek again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.

“So, um, I’ll go grab my stuff and call a cab then?” I ask, not wanting to assume he’ll take me home.

“Don’t be silly. I’m taking you home! I’ve got a meeting to get to that way anyway,” he backtracks, not wanting to sound too eager.

I nod, nervously toying with the hem of Harry’s shirt.

“Oh, come with me,” Harry smiles, rushing off down the hallway.

I scurry behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. He makes a sharp turn and, I follow, ending up in the laundry room.

“I went ahead and washed your clothes last night,” he explains, pulling my jeans and shirt from the dryer, soft and warm.

He hands me the clothes, the scent of his detergent wafting from them and I take them shyly.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he winks, reminding me of last night and immediately my cheeks flush.

I follow him back down the hallway, but step into his room, shutting the door behind me before I strip off his clothes and replace them with my own. I whip my hair up into a quick bun and walk back outside where he is just finishing washing the dishes.

“Feel free to watch some TV or something, I’m going to go change really quick,” he says, walking over to the TV to turn it on and hand me the remote. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I’m good,” I nod and take a seat.

He walks back to his bedroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Memories from last night cause me sheer embarrassment and I’m still so intensely sexually frustrated. With Harry, it’s like every moment is a photo shoot. There has not been one second that he’s looked less than extraordinary this entire time. Maybe those fans are right…he’s far too perfect and I’m far too average and he can’t seriously be considering a relationship with me, can he?

I shake my head and turn on some random reality TV show before pulling out my phone. It’s as if I can’t resist looking at all of the stuff currently being said about me online. Fans hating on me, calling me every awful name possible, magazines adding me to the long list of Harry’s “love affairs” or even one saying I’m a prostitute Harry hired to keep quiet and keep him satisfied. I look at the pictures the paparazzi got and can’t help but notice how fat I looked and how terrible my hair looked all soaking wet. The theories people have come up with just confirm my doubts about Harry and I being together.

I work to hold back tears, throwing my phone down and staring at the TV. The show I hadn’t even realized I was watching is one about the best plastic surgeons around. It consists of incredibly perfect looking women trying to perfect they’re already extraordinary bodies. If they’re not fucking good enough, how the hell am I supposed to be?

I barely even notice Harry walk back into the room, tight jeans, pinstriped shirt, curls and all.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he rasps out and I melt at the sound.

“Hi.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of getting work done?” He asks, emerald eyes motioning to the TV.

“Oh, um no,” I laugh lightly, “it was just on.”

“Okay, good. You can’t mess with perfection,” he winks and I can’t help but giggle at his cheesiness, easing my stress a bit. “You ready?”

“Yup!” I reply, grabbing my stuff and standing. I shut off the TV and follow him to the door, which he opens courteously.

The intense summer heat hits us as we walk outside, to an empty yard thank god, and climb into his car. I take one last look at his beautiful and luxurious home and wonder if I’ll ever be invited there again. He pulls out of the driveway smoothly and before I know it, we’re back on the freeway, music loud, wind running through my hair. Harry reaches over, taking my hand and in that simple gesture I’m reassured that despite what others say, he is here because he wants to be. If he wasn’t interested in me, none of this would be happening in the first place. There’s no reason to worry. I let out a huff of warm air and smile, a real one this time.

When we pull into my driveway, Harry hops out quickly to get my door once again. I climb onto the sidewalk as gracefully as possible, and can’t help but hold by breath as he walks me to the front door.

“Thank you for coming out with me,” Harry whispers nervously. “Despite the hiccups, I had an amazing time with you, Y/N.”

“Harry, it was incredible,” I reply, trying to keep my eyes off of his perfect, pink, plump lips.

He smiles that goddamn perfect smile and places a hand on my cheek, gently guiding my face to his. He presses his lips against mine gently, moving them softly. The kiss is not intrusive or urgent, but soft, warm, and surprisingly comfortable. When he pulls away, I nibble my lip, hoping to taste him a little longer.

“I’ll call you soon, love,” he smiles, rubbing his nose against mine softly before pulling away, and walking back to his car.

I stare at him, hand on the doorknob, a million things running through my mind as I watch him walk away.

Before he opens his car door, he looks up at me with a smile, “Oh, and Y/N? Don’t let them get you down.” And with that, he climbs back into his car and drives away.


A/N: And there you have it folks! I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think! I’m excited to write part 5! .xx -M