#Beach decals

[culturesfinest]

Manuel antonio costa rica stickers ( kiss-cut ) light - etiqueta engomada A kiss-cut provides you with the ultimate flexibility for implementing your vision—this method cuts the sticker into any shape you desire, while leaving the back intact so that it can be smoothly peeled off the page. .: Made 100% with durable vinyl that comes with strong 3M glue for decorations that last. Perfect for spicing up indoor decor (not waterproof). .: Choose between 4 sizes to match your needs. All stickers are 0.004in (4mm) thick and come with a stylish glossy finish. the Manuel Antonio Beach Park Costa Rica Stickers. Immerse yourself in the beauty of Manuel Antonio Beach with these stunning stickers. Whether you have visited this breathtaking destination or simply dream of doing so, these stickers are a perfect way to encapsulate the charm and magic of this idyllic location. Each sticker is kiss-cut, allowing you to easily peel and place them on any surface of your choice. From laptops to water bottles, notebooks to phone cases, these stickers are a versatile way to display your love for this incredible beach park. The high-quality material ensures that they are durable and long-lasting, so you can enjoy them for years to come. The design of each sticker captures the essence of Manuel Antonio Beach Park, showcasing the pristine sandy beaches, lush tropical rainforests, and crystal-clear waters. The vibrant colors and intricate details bring the beauty of this destination to life, allowing you to carry a piece of paradise with you wherever you go. Whether you are a collector of stickers or simply want to add a touch of tropical beauty to your belongings, these Manuel Antonio Beach Park Costa Rica stickers are a must-have. They make the perfect souvenir for those who have visited the park, serving as a wonderful reminder of their time spent in this tropical paradise. For those who have yet to experience the beauty of Manuel Antonio Beach, these stickers offer a tantalizing glimpse of what awaits them. In addition to being a delightful decorative item, these stickers also serve as a conversation starter. Displaying them on your belongings is sure to spark interest and admiration from friends and strangers alike. You can share your love for Manuel Antonio Beach and Costa Rica, inspiring others to explore the wonders of this stunning location. These stickers are also a thoughtful gift for anyone who appreciates the beauty of nature and enjoys collecting unique and visually appealing items. Whether for a birthday, holiday, or just as a gesture of appreciation, these stickers are a memorable and heartfelt present that will be cherished and admired. In conclusion, the Manuel Antonio Beach Park Costa Rica stickers are a beautiful and versatile way to showcase your love for this tropical paradise. Their high-quality design and durable material ensure that they will be enjoyed for years to come. Whether for personal enjoyment, as a souvenir, or as a gift for a loved one, these stickers are a wonderful way to capture the natural beauty and charm of Manuel Antonio Beach. Get yours today and bring a piece of paradise into your everyday life.

[crippledgiraff]

Are you ready to celebrate Hot Ork Summer? Do you like floral prints and margaritas on the beach? Do you want to support the art of Kristina Amuan?

Well you're in luck, I just stocked these excellent stickers! Get them while you can, supplies are limited!

Look at these rascals! Aren't they fun? Well guess what? You can have some of these funny little guys, designed by Kristina Amuan, as a cool little sticker! Pick it up here! Supplies limited!

[swirlgraphics]

Stickers everywhere...

by Swirl Design Co.

[unfamiliaris]

hmmm

[bella-wall-studios]

California Golden Gate Bridge Car Decal/ San Francisco Window Sticker LA DIMENSIONS (SIZES) Basique (Small): 8"x8.6" Pratique (Medium): 10"x10.8" Classique (Large): 14"x15.1" ******SAVE AN EXTRA 10%****** For an extra 10% off your entire order join our mailing list and become a VIP member. Use this link https://mailchi.mp/40fdb628c1aa/new-customer-welcome-bella-wall-studios and you will be emailed a discount code for an extra 10% off. WHY SHOP WITH BELLA WALL STUDIOS? -Unique art work -Three different finishes to choose from -A portion of our profits is donated to The Autism Science Foundation charity -High quality vinyl MORE ABOUT OUR DECALS We are the only shop that offers 36 different couleurs and three different finishes to choose from. Matte metallic, true matte, and semi-matte are the different finishes that are offered for your decal. Semi-matte vinyl will have slightly more of a shine to it than true matte vinyl. The result of using our premium matte vinyl is a stunning painted on effect with unrivaled quality that will stand the true test of time. In addition it will also reduce the amount of glare stemming from light or shiny objects. UNASWERED QUESTIONS If you have any unanswered questions please take a look at our FAQ section. If we still haven’t answered your question then please contact us so we can get your questions answered. We are always happy to help you out! https://www.etsy.com/listing/1499773085/california-golden-gate-bridge-car-decal

[senpaisimmer]

Miami Guest Bedroom Mid-sized tropical guest bedroom idea with a carpeted beige floor, no fireplace, and white walls.

[unconventionaldesigns]

Sailboats at the Beach is available at Redbubble: UlDesigns.redbubble.com

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She's Dangerous]

A/N: Be sure to vote in the poll pinned to the top of my blog AFTER you finish reading!!! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace (again).

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “She's A Rebel” by Green Day.

Word count: 7.4k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I’m sorry if I was a creep when we first met,” Aegon says. He’s been oddly philosophical since he was burned. “I hadn’t seen a hot single chick in a while, and I wanted to fuck you.”

Cregan siphoned just enough gas from a decrepit Chrysler Sebring in Merna to take the Tahoe two and a half hours west to Little Thunder Bay Campground on the shores of Lake McConaughy, a manmade reservoir and New Deal project from the 1930s. You glance over at Aegon dubiously, amused. “Do I count as hot?”

“Yeah, Chippendales, you’re hot. In like a…you live in a cabin and knit sweaters by a crackling fireplace kind of way.”

You smile. “So you got over that.”

“Oh no, I still want to fuck you. Now I just know you better, so I wouldn’t want to offend you by being obnoxious about it.”

“That’s sweet, I guess. I appreciate your discretion.”

“No problem. If you ever decide you want to take a ride on a less distinguished Targaryen brother, let me know.”

The two of you are fishing from a boat launch, dry splintering planks of wood, opaque rippling water, soft wind and bright sunshine from an aquamarine, cloudless sky. Cregan found the fishing poles in the abandoned RV you’ve moved into, a Winnebago Spirit with one of those stick figure family decals on the back window, Mom, Dad, four lovely children and a dog too, all of whom are perhaps alive but more likely dead and in any case nowhere to be found here in this tranquil corner of western Nebraska, 150 miles from the Wyoming border. Helaena digs worms from the earth, then Rhaena slices them into wriggling segments with a hunting knife and brings them to you and Aegon to be impaled on barbed hooks. Aemond, Rio, Daeron, Luke, and Cregan are swimming about twenty yards down the beach, soaked boxer shorts and nothing else, splashing each other and scrubbing the grime off their skin from a morning spent gathering wood for the firepit and the grill; Ice is paddling joyfully alongside them. Baela floats on her back and peers vacantly up into the vast blue nothingness. Aegon is not permitted in the water, as his leg is an open wound beneath his bandages. You ask him as you recast your fishing line: “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

You shrug, smirking guiltily. You thought it was obvious.

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, slow and lazy. “Oh, I get it. A loser.”

“I didn’t say loser.”

“You thought loser.”

“I implied loser.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been called worse things by people I admire much less.” He contemplates his answer as he gazes down into the water, sluggish stoned reverie. Aemond must be almost out of morphine by now. At last Aegon says: “I think the first thing I ever learned was that no matter how hard I tried, no one was ever going to love me. Not in a normal kind of way, Disney movie love, Christmas rom-com love. So I stopped trying. Mother wanted me to play piano, so I bombed the recital. Father wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, so I skipped class, went golfing and yachting, didn’t even bother to pay someone to write halfway decent essays for me. If they couldn’t love me unconditionally, I wasn’t interested in meeting their conditions.” Then he chuckles, the breeze combing through his hair, ninety degrees and only getting hotter. “I refused to work. All you’ve ever done is work. You must hate me.”

“No, I get it.” You reel in your line; a fish has stolen the worm from your hook, tiny clandestine nibbles. You impale a slimy new victim and recast. “No one wants to be used.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I wasn’t going to spend my life doing shit I didn’t want to do so my parents could brag about me to their insufferable friends and absolve themselves of their mistakes. Mother married a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, Father ignored us all. Me being a success story would have given them the impression they did something right. I couldn’t have that.”

So Aemond had to be the success story instead. You glance down the beach at where he is bursting through the water and slicking back his dripping hair from his face, showing Luke a bone he found in the muddy silt of Lake McConaughy, hopefully not human.

Aegon follows your eyeline. “Aemond went the other way, I guess. Always so pathetically desperate for their approval. Scrabbling for crumbs of it like a rat. That’s what the thing with Alys was all about, it’s the only explanation I have. Older woman, surrogate mother, comforting but chilly, fawning but forbidden, always keeping him at an arm’s length and rewarding his tricks with treats.” He smirks flirtatiously, then sees that he’s hurt you. “Oh, um, I mean…look, it wasn’t…it wasn’t a good thing, you know? He wasn’t happy. It was a seven-year-long psychotic episode, not a relationship.”

“You mentioned that Criston likes Aemond,” you say, pivoting. “The…what is he? A family friend, an assistant?”

“My mother’s personal security guard. And yeah, he cares about Aemond. He’s proud of him, he trust him, he thinks he’s more capable than any of the rest of us, and that’s probably true. It’s definitely true compared to me. But that doesn’t mean Criston always knows how to express it.”

You look out over the water, trying not to imagine Aemond touching Alys, this woman you hate without knowing her face. You wonder if he ever wishes you were more like her: older, clever, entrancing, masterful. “It must have been a strange way to grow up.”

“Cold,” Aegon says. “Hollow. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything. You go through the motions but something’s always missing. When you’re little, you think it’s your fault, and then eventually you realize that they’re going to be miserable whether you’re there or not. But you can get out if you’re willing to run far enough.” He scratches at his forearm, and your eyes catch fleetingly on the black ink of his tattoo: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You had told Rio something similar when you were stranded on that transmission tower in Catawissa, Pennsylvania. “This is fucked up, and I don’t mean that I don’t feel bad about what happened to Jace, and I get that millions of people have died agonizing deaths, and that all sucks, believe me, I know, but this…” He gestures vaguely, to the zombies and the desolation and the collapse of everything you’ve ever known. “It was kind of my Get Out Of Jail Free card. And in a weird way…sometimes I feel like I’ve been happier since the world ended than I ever was before.”

You smile. You know what he means. “Even if your leg gets infected and we have to saw it off without anesthesia like you’re a Civil War soldier?”

Aegon laughs and shakes his head, his hair flopping around. It’s almost long enough for him to have a man bun like Cregan’s if he wanted one “No, probably not. Also, what’s the Civil War?”

“Forget it.”

“No, now I want to know.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Aemond said something interesting this morning while you were picking blackberries with our favorite Trump supporter,” Aegon tells you, salacious and sly, offering a tantalizing morsel he knows you’re powerless to refuse. He pauses and waits for you to admit it to yourself.

“Fine. Okay. What?”

“He said that when you and Cregan are standing next to each other, you look like you belong together.”

You groan, quite loudly. “I have zero interest in Cregan romantically. Literally zero. I don’t think he sees me that way either.”

Aegon shrugs. “The dating pool is awfully small nowadays, Banana Chip. Anyone who’s not a corpse or an immediate blood relative starts to look tasty.”

“So that’s why you like me.”

Aegon grins, teeth he shows often and easily, so unlike Aemond in every way. “No. I think I’d like you anywhere.” He tugs languidly on his fishing pole. “I want a new golf club.” He forgot his at the house in Broken Bow where Jace died.

“We’ll see.”

“I want new shoes too.” One of his Sperry Bahama sneakers was burned beyond repair and filled with shreds of his own singed flesh, scraps like soft bacon fused with the padding and insole. “And some polos.”

“I’m not a Big Lots.”

“Who the fuck shops at Big Lots?” Aegon’s fishing line jerks, and he yanks hard on the pole before reeling in his catch. Suspended at the end is a long green creature, yellowish spots and a villainous angular face. “That is one ugly bitch.”

“It’s a pike,” you say, and then when you grab it you observe that the misfortunate fish has the barb of the hook piercing not through its lip but one of its bulging, glassy eyes. “Oh my God!”

Aegon squeals, horrified. He offers no meaningful assistance. “That’s so gross, that’s so gross, what are we going to do?!”

“We have to, like, I don’t know, grab the back of the hook from inside its mouth and pull it out of the eyeball, I guess…?!”

“Yeah, awesome. Good luck with that.”

You reach tentatively into the pike’s gaping mouth. Its jaws snap shut, needlelike teeth stinging your wrist. “Ow!”

“Cregan!” Aegon bellows. “Cregan, help!”

Now the others are running to the boat launch to see what’s going on, Helaena and Rhaena from the shore, everyone else from the lake, Luke helping Baela wring the water from her sundress and Ice galloping alongside Cregan. He gets a look at the pike and guffaws, loud and rumbling.

“Poor little guy. That’s some bad luck he’s got.”

“Can you get the hook out?” you ask, eager to surrender the fish, which is still thrashing franticly and gnashing its teeth, mindless cold-blooded death throes.

“Of course I can.” Cregan plucks the pike from your grasp, shoves his massive hand into its mouth, and rips the hook out with one effortless maneuver. The pike is freed, but its eyeball remains speared on the hook. Then Cregan spies blood on your wrist. “You okay there, Miss Chips?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“Freaking disgusting, man,” Aegon mutters; he and Rio are ogling the disembodied eyeball, complete with a frayed optic nerve like a tail, with identical, stunned revulsion.

You turn to smile up at Aemond, but he doesn’t notice you. He is staring at Cregan, his sole blue eye narrow and fixed and flat like still water.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The closest town is Ogallala,” Aegon says as he lays his map across the wooden picnic table. The rest of you are seated around him and picking flaky white meat from between the thin, fragile bones of the pike, which Cregan has gutted and cooked on the large metal grill that careless camping families once roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over. Helaena is at the edge of the table and writing in her spider notebook, elegant loops of cursive. Ice is lying on her belly and gnawing on a rabbit she killed for herself, its doomed black eyes gazing up at you.

“That has to be what, ten miles south?” Rio says apprehensively.

Aegon licks grease from his fingers. “Yup. A little more, probably.”

“What about Lemoyne?” Daeron says, pointing. “Or Keystone, or even Belmar? They’re all closer.”

“See how small the names are written?” Aegon tells him. “That means they’re not actual communities. They’re like a few stop signs and maybe a Dollar General and that’s it.”

“I love Dollar General,” Cregan says, nostalgic. “Man, do y’all remember Chicken in a Biskit? I used to park myself in front of the tv and eat boxes and boxes—”

“It has to be Ogallala,” Aemond insists. “We need pharmacies and grocery stores and cars to siphon gas from, we need a real town.”

Rhaena chews her lower lip anxiously. “The Tahoe is empty. We have maybe half a gallon left and that’s it. Just enough to get down to Ogallala if we’re lucky, but not back.”

“So we’ll drive until it dies and then we’ll walk. Cregan has a gas can in the back, if we find fuel we can bring some back to the Tahoe and continue from there.”

“Walk, huh?” Aegon says, looking down at his bandaged left leg, which he can’t put any weight on. He gets around by hopping, leaning against other people (oftentimes against their will), and being carried by Rio.

“Well, you’re not going,” Aemond tells him. “And Baela isn’t either.”

Baela, gazing blankly down at the map, says nothing. A brown striped snake darts through the grass only a few feet from the picnic table, moving swiftly towards the lake, and there are alarmed gasps and yelps.

“Northern water snake,” Helaena says, glancing up from her notebook. “Not venomous.”

“Good,” Rhaena replies with a shudder.

Luke says fearfully as he reads the map: “Aemond, last time we went into a town that big was Broken Bow, and…Jace…the farmhouse…”

Aemond slams his fists down on the table. “We have to, okay? We need food and water. We need bullets. I need more pain meds and bandages for Aegon, I need antiseptic and Neosporin, and Vaseline for when he’s healing, and supplies for when Baela goes into labor too, since I’ve had to use everything I had saved.”

“We need pads and tampons too,” Helaena says as she examines the black-ink inventory in her notebook. “And Advil, lip balm, bars of soap, hair ties, and socks and underwear. And that green jelly aloe vera stuff for Aegon’s sunburn.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Aemond agrees. “We need a lot of things. And we have to refuel so we can keep moving west.”

“We could stay here,” Baela says, so softly that at first you aren’t sure if you heard her right.

“What, Baela?” Rhaena asks gently.

“I want to stay here.” Baela is more resolute now. “I want to have the baby here.”

Nobody knows how to respond. Rio gives you a troubled glance. You nod in agreement, so subtly you doubt anyone else notices. Not an option.

Aemond is calm but unwavering. “Baela, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

She pleads her case. “I like the Winnebago. I like the lake. I’m comfortable here, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I…I think we could make this our home for a while, now that we’ve found someplace like this. Someplace quiet and safe.”

“We’re not safe here, Baela,” Aemond says. “It feels like we’re safe, but we’re not. We aren’t a big enough group to reliably be able to defend ourselves. We don’t have adequate supplies. We have a lake to our backs, sure, but the rest of the shoreline is open for anybody to walk right into, and our visibility is blocked by trees. No one has stumbled across us yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. And if they do we’re extremely vulnerable. But when we get to the west coast, we’ll be home.”

“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.”

“I understand. I am too.”

“It’s different,” Baela says, abruptly fierce. “You don’t know what this feels like. None of you do. I’ve never given up and I’ve never asked to be taken care of, I’ve always been the strong one, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I want to have my baby here, and I…I…” Her large dark eyes are glistening, haunted. “Every time we’re driving I feel like I see him sitting next to me, or standing out in the middle of the road, and then I have to remember what happened all over again, and…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Rhaena takes Baela’s hands in her own, skims her thumbs across Baela’s knuckles; Luke rubs her back reassuringly. The rest of you can only offer silent, pitying looks. There are no easy answers, no fortuitous gold strikes, no shortcuts. The only way out is through.

“Whatever you guys decide, I’m leaving either way,” Rio says. “Sophie’s waiting for me in Oregon. I can’t just hang out in Nebraska forever. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“It’s over a thousand miles,” Aegon tells him.

“Doesn’t matter, man. I gotta do it.”

You add: “Obviously, I’d have to go with Rio.”

Both Aemond and Aegon appear startled. “We’ll be on the road again soon,” Aemond promises. “Tomorrow, if we can find gas in Ogallala.”

“I’m not going,” Baela whispers.

“We have to, Baela,” Rhaena implores. “It’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you, and the baby too when the time comes.”

Baela stands, strides to the Winnebago, disappears inside and slams the door behind her.

“She’ll be okay,” Rhaena tells the rest of you. “She’s…you know, she’s shaken up. She’s not thinking clearly. But she’ll realize this was the right decision. The only decision, really.”

“It’s best if we can get set up somewhere permanent before she goes into labor,” Aemond says, as if he’s defending himself. “Traveling with a baby…Baela recovering…it would be very dangerous for all of us.”

“Luke and I are thinking the same things, Aemond. We agree with you.”

He gives Rhaena an appreciative smile, very small but sincere. Then he turns to Daeron. “Baela and Aegon will have to wait here when I go south to Ogallala, since they can’t walk in the event the Tahoe runs out of gas. You’re going to stay behind to protect them.”

“Got it,” Daeron says soberly. All the bullets are gone; his compound bow, fed with arrows fashioned from sticks, is the best weapon you have left. Cregan has his axe, Rio still prefers to bash skulls with the butt of his Remington shotgun, everyone else must make do with hunting knives from that cellar back in Pennsylvania and kayak paddles found here at Lake McConaughy.

Aemond looks around the table. “I’ll need Rio, Cregan, and Luke.”

“And our beloved furball Blue Raspberry Icee,” Aegon says, smirking. “To sniff out any zombies.”

“Yes. Ice too.”

“What about me?” you say, staring incredulously at Aemond.

“Not you. You’re staying here in the RV.”

“If you and Rio are going, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not,” Aemond says. “You’re the best shot, and we all agree about that, but we’re fresh out of bullets. You therefore have no advantage tactically.���

“What’s Luke’s advantage?”

There are awkward chuckles. Aemond leaves the picnic table and gestures for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

Aemond doesn’t answer; he keeps walking until he’s hidden amongst a small grove of Kentucky coffeetrees, oval emerald leaves and umber seed pods that hang from branches, reminding you of skate egg cases—what some people call mermaid’s purses—you once found washed up on the beach outside Djibouti City. Rio teases you: “Ohhh, you’re in troubleee…”

You swat him on the back of the head; his hair is getting long too, dark curls that flutter in the breeze that comes in off the lake, hot and humid, the infinite wildness of July. “If I’m not going, you have to swear that you’ll—”

“I got it, I got it,” Rio says, blasé and jolly. “I’ll look underneath things, I’ll look on top of things, I’ll look everywhere. Okay?”

Aegon kicks him with his good foot. “Get me a golf club.”

“I’m not a Dick’s!”

“Dicks?! Who brought up dicks, you sicko…?!”

You go after Aemond and meet him in the shade, an island of twilight in the omnipotent golden morning. He pushes you against one of the Kentucky coffeetrees—rough bark to your back, prodding you through your t-shirt—and nuzzles your throat as he presses his hips to yours, blissful clandestine surrender as your knees weaken and you gaze dizzily up into the canopy of leaves.

You sigh: “This is not an explanation. This is a distraction. A very enjoyable one, but a distraction nonetheless.”

“Daeron is good with a bow, but he’s young,” Aemond murmurs. “I need you to help him protect the others.”

“You’ve managed to make this sound like a promotion.”

“And,” Aemond continues. “When things get risky and chaotic, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is safe…I find you being around to be…distracting.”

“Rio doesn’t think I’m a distraction.”

He chuckles, avoidant. “That’s not an equivalent situation.”

“I get that Luke has binoculars, but I am also perfectly capable of using binoculars, and I could borrow his and he could stay here. I really don’t think he’d mind being benched, he’d probably prefer it—”

“I always ask you to stay near Rio, and you never do, and then I have to worry about you getting lost or bitten or imperiled in any one of a million other ways.”

“Because it’s not that simple! Rio gets it, I have to be able to improvise—”

Suddenly, Aemond pulls away and asks: “Do you trust me?”

You are bewildered. “What?”

“Because I could understand if you don’t.”

You search his scarred face; he has that look like he’s trying not to reveal too much of himself, to show that he’s nervous or vulnerable or afraid. You touch your palm to his ravaged cheek, your voice soft. “I trust you, Aemond.”

He seems relived. “Good. Then please stay here.”

“You’ll watch out for Rio?” you say threateningly.

“Of course.”

“And yourself too.”

He grins, those small secretive teeth he loves to hide. “That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll check under things and on top of things, and you’ll remember what I said about the racks? When you go into stores and you’re rummaging through—?”

Aemond kisses you, warm and slow and kind, the curve of his lips pleased and mischievous. “It’s flattering that you’re so concerned.”

“And don’t forget the pads and tampons.”

His scarred eyebrow rises half an inch. “Oh?”

“I’m already having pre-period cramps. I’ll need supplies in a few days.”

“You’ll have them. Don’t fear.” Then he studies you, concerned, his brow furrowing and his palm testing your cheek and forehead. “You feeling okay? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s very routine at this point, I’ve had a decade to get accustomed.”

“Alright. If there’s anything else you think of before we head out, I’ll add it to the list.” He takes your hand and examines the shallow scratches left on your wrist by the needlelike teeth of the pike. “Let me clean and wrap that up for you. I think I have just enough bandages left.”

“Your worst nightmare came true,” you joke. “I was bitten after all.”

Aemond doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s long after nightfall and you and Aegon are keeping watch just outside the Winnebago Spirit, slumped in folding camping chairs people once told their legends from: scary stories, workplace grievances, familial mythology. In the firepit, logs split and pop, and embers glow a bloody red. You’re waiting for the Tahoe to return and trying not to think about the possibility it might not.

“These suck,” Aegon says, garbled by a mouthful of Cheddar Whales, grimacing at the bright blue box. “Why do you and Rio eat these? They’re like…dodgy Goldfish.”

“Are you kidding?! They’re way better than Goldfish! Goldfish don’t taste like anything.”

“And Cheddar Whales taste like salty cardboard. The American Dream.” Aegon passes the box back to you. “They better come back with some SpaghettiOs or Rice-A-Roni or something. I can’t survive on Cregan’s overcooked fish.” He lights a Marlboro Gold cigarette by sticking it into the fire and takes a deep drag, looking up at the stars. Aemond gave him the last of the morphine before he left, and Aegon is floating on a feathery, narcotic cloud.

You say after at last working up the nerve: “So you’re a slut, right?”

He snickers, firelight dancing on his sunburned face. “Slut, loser, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a slut. Why?”

“Have you ever had trouble…” Your hands flail around aimlessly; it’s so awkward to say out loud. “You know…getting it in?”

“No, not really. But I’m hung like a hamster.” He looks over at you, curious shimmering stoned blue eyes. “Technical difficulties, Chip And Dip? Not enough dipping going on?”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re probably just nervous. Aemond’s a doctor, he’d be able to tell if you had something wonky down there, like those chicks who are born without a vagina. Or with two vaginas. Jesus Christ, can you imagine the possibilities? Why can’t I meet someone like that?”

You stare into the fire, discouraged. “I’m going to ruin everything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aemond will assume it’s his fault. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Through the darkness, you spot headlights bobbing as the Tahoe approaches on bumpy dirt roads. “Oh, thank God. They’re back.”

“About time. If Rio didn’t find me a new golf club, I’m going to drown him in the lake.”

“He could break you in half.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Because he likes me too much.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you like me too,” Aegon says as he exhales smoke, his glazed eyes listing to you, his grin crooked and drowsy. “Just a little bit.”

You smile reluctantly. “I might.”

“Cool.” He beams up at the stars, and then says again: “Cool.”

As the massive SUV rolls to a halt, the headlights cascading over you and so bright they’re nearly blinding, you notice the red letters on the grill: GMC. “That’s not the Tahoe,” you say, panicked.

“What? Then who is it?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up, instinctively reaching for one of your M9s; but they’re both empty. All the guns are. Your hand drops to your side.

Aegon, unable to rise on his own, remains in his chair and grips the armrests tightly. He whispers: “Should we go inside…?!”

“They’ve already seen us. But they don’t know who’s in the RV.” Rhaena, Baela, Helaena. With a shiver like a bolt of cold lightning, you recall what Aemond said at the bowling alley back in Shenandoah, Ohio: I don’t want them to know we have women with us.

The GMC Yukon is still running when two men step out, the headlights disorientingly bright. They are both armed, you see immediately, pistols that you’d guess are Colts. Aegon’s hand juts out and closes around your forearm as the strangers approach. They are both young, maybe twenty, and wearing jeans, camo jackets, and baseball hats like they’re going hunting. They stand in the yellow-white glow of the headlights as they watch you.

“Hi,” you say congenially, forcing a smile.

The men glance at each other, then one greets you with a nod. “Howdy.”

“We’re set up here,” you say. “But it’s a big campground. You’re welcome to any of the other spots.”

The man who spoke earlier chuckles and scratches at his short beard. You steal a glimpse back at Aegon: his eyes are huge and horrified.

“It’s real quiet on the lake,” you continue. “We haven’t had any problems, and we’ve been here a few days. It’s a good place. We’re happy to share it. We don’t…” You deliberate what words to use. “We aren’t interested in making trouble. We just want to be left alone.”

The man replies: “I camped here every single summer growing up, learned to fish here, swam in the water with my cousins, brought my girlfriends here to fuck. And now you’re inviting me to stay? You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent. This is my backyard. You’re the one who should be asking for permission.”

Aegon is making a low, whimpering sound; his fingernails are digging into the defenseless, downy underside of your forearm. “We don’t have anything of value,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Uh huh.” The stranger’s gaze flicks to the Winnebago.

“We found it. There’s no gas, no keys. Two of the tires are flat. It’s just shelter.”

“Who else is in the RV?”

“No one.”

The second man is squinting at Aegon. “Is he a cripple?”

“He was burned. That’s why we’re resting here for a while, so he can heal.”

The first man points to the bandage on your wrist. “Did you try to kill yourself? My neighbor did that when her kid got eaten. Slit her veins open out in the middle of the street. Bad scene.”

“I got mauled by a fish,” you reply numbly.

He laughs, a slow, rolling, mocking sort of sound, not taking his eyes off you. Then they drop to the Beretta M9s you have holstered at your waist. “Are those loaded?”

“Yes.”

He signals to the nearest Kentucky coffeetree. “Prove it. Shoot that tree.” You stare at its trunk, stark in the headlights of the strangers’ SUV. Long seconds tick by, the only sound the idling of the engine and the crackling of the firepit. “You can’t,” the man says, grinning. “Because you’re out of bullets. But I’m not.”

He raises his pistol and fires, a thunderclap, a mechanical roar. A small circular wound appears in the tree. Aegon shrieks and tries to stand; he tumbles to the earth when the raw, weeping flesh beneath his bandages betrays him. The RV door flies open and Daeron is the first one out, clutching his compound bow but still blinking his way out of the dreams he was jolted from. He won’t be able to nock one of his makeshift arrows before they shoot him.

“What the hell’s going on—?!”

“Drop it!” the stranger shouts, and both he and his companion aim their pistols at Daeron. He freezes. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena exit the RV and begin screaming, clinging to each other.

“Do what they ask,” you tell Daeron, trying to remain calm. With great hesitancy, he sets his bow on the earth and puts his empty palms in the air. There are hunting knives inside the RV, you think. Where did we store them? In a drawer, in a cabinet?

The men are now herding you all into the RV, jabbing the barrels of their pistols against your backs and bellies. “Let’s go, everybody in,” the first one says. The second man hooks an arm forcefully under one of Aegon’s and drags him through the threshold, Aegon yowling as his burned leg smacks against the doorframe. The second man forces Aegon and Daeron to kneel on the floor at the front of the RV near the driver’s seat; the other one arranges the women at gunpoint, instructing you to squeeze together to sit in a row on the floral couch. Helaena—farthest from you and closest to the kitchenette booth—is sobbing and covering her ears. Rhaena appears to be hyperventilating. Baela’s head is held high, her face furious and defiant.

Aemond, Rio, Cregan, please come back…

“Now this is interesting,” the first man is saying to his friend. He uses his pistol to indicate to each of you. “We’ve got G.I. Jane, this delicate little sweetheart, a pregnant lady, and Cinderella. Where should we begin…?”

You glance at Rhaena, catch her wide frenzied eyes, then look meaningfully at the drawers across the aisle near the kitchenette stove and sink. Knife? you mouth.

It takes her a moment to realize what you mean, then she inclines her head, an elusive nod. She remembers where they are, where they were stored once she cleaned them this afternoon in the lake water. That’s good; but in order for Rhaena to grab a large serrated hunting knife, the men will need to be distracted.

“There’s a bed in the back,” the second man is saying. “I can see it from here, down the hallway…”

Your gaze is darting around the Winnebago. Aegon is yelling something; the second man pistol-whips him, fortunately not hard enough to fracture his skull.

“Don’t worry,” the first man tells Aegon, background noise you try to ignore as you search for an opportunity. “You’ll get to watch…”

Helaena is trying to get your attention, staring at you with her wide, gleaming blue eyes. You furrow your brow at her, not understanding…and then you see the burlap strap she’s looped around her wrist. Her messenger bag must be in the kitchenette booth beside her. And as you watch, and only for a second, she arranges her fingers in the shape of a gun.

The Ruger, you realize, amazed, that tiny revolver she was always so repelled by. Helaena never used it, but she still has it. And it’s loaded.

Baela is arguing with the men, words you tune out. Helaena points to you, but you shake your head. There’s no way for her to get the Ruger to you without them seeing. You mouth to Helaena, your face severe: You have to do it. Then you look to the first man, presently waving his pistol in Baela’s face.

“I’d like to go first,” you say casually, and all the noise stops.

“No, no, no, I’ll do it,” Aegon tells the men. “You want a blowjob? You want to fuck me in the ass? I’m down. I’m not scared of no dick. I experimented in college.”

Both strangers burst into hysterical laughter. “That’s a mighty generous offer,” the second one says, swiping a tear from his eye. “But that’s not the team we’re on, is it, Wesley?”

The first man, Wesley, is smiling down at you. His gaze sweeps over your body, from your bare feet to your eyes, calm and level. “Why do you want to go first, darling?”

Shoot him, Helaena. Shoot him right now. “I’ve never done it before. I figure I should give it a try before it’s too late.”

Helaena whips the Ruger out of her burlap messenger bag and opens fire. She winces each time it goes off, and her aim is terrible; bullets pierce the ceiling and the walls, striking nowhere near Wesley or his accomplice, but their panicked ducking buys valuable seconds. Daeron and Aegon tackle the man closest to them and wrestle the pistol from his hands. Aegon presses the barrel to his skull, pulls the trigger, kills him instantly. Rhaena flies to one of the drawers and yanks out a hunting knife ten inches long. She buries it in Wesley’s throat, the blade disappearing until the hilt rests on his collarbone. When she rips it free, scarlet blood jets from his severed carotid artery, spraying you, soaking you. Blood is in your eyes and nostrils, hot coppery carnage; when you scream, you can taste it in your mouth.

People are reaching for you and telling you to calm down, that they’ll help you, but you can’t wait. You use your t-shirt to mop as much of the blood as you can from your face and bolt through the door of the RV, running towards the lake. You drop to your knees on the sand and splash yourself, cool moonlit rivulets that wash the blood away. You’re trembling, you’re crying, and when somebody grabs you by the arm you scream and strike out at them, clawing like an animal.

“It’s me,” Aemond says, and only then do you get a good look at him, blood and lake water beading on your eyelashes. He’s wiping blood off your face with his palms, he’s inspecting you for fresh wounds. “Don’t fight, it’s me, it’s me, whose blood is this, what happened—?!”

“You were right,” Baela says to Aemond from where she stands on the sand, a hand resting on her belly. Drifting from the RV are the voices of the others who have just returned: Rio, Cregan, Luke. “We’re not safe here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, rain falls as you lie entangled with Aemond in the attic bedroom of a ranch house in Red Desert, Wyoming, flashing lightning and flickering candles illuminating bare skin. You are kissing feverishly, your hands all over each other, and Aemond is pushing himself into you; or, rather, he is trying to. There is pain, and you can feel your body turning treasonous, rejecting him, shrinking away from him, fearing that you’ll never be able to satisfy him.

No, no no no…

His voice is hushed and gentle as his lips brush your ear. “Hey, you’re shaking, why are you shaking?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, keep going.” And then, when he stops: “No, Aemond, don’t—”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Instead, he lies down beside you and turns your face to his, fingerprints on the slope of your jaw. He asks again, more firmly: “Why are you shaking?”

All the walls and arches of you collapse, stones tumbling to crack against the earth. You are suddenly fighting tears. Your words come out in a whisper. “I want this to be real.”

He studies your face, distressed. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose you. I never thought I’d have something like this and now I’m so afraid of fucking it up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Jace thought.”

Aemond pulls you against his chest and holds you as you sink through him into dark, cold, watery dreams, and doesn’t make any more promises he can’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What time is it on the East Coast right now?” you ask Rio. It’s May and almost a hundred degrees every day in Djibouti City—arid, rainless, sun glare and dust that sting your eyes—so the Navy has you building at night when they won’t have to deal with quite so many Seabees dropping over from heatstroke. Outside the day is turning to a soft lavender dusk and your shift will begin soon. You are dressed—sand-colored t-shirt, camo pants, work boots—and toweling off your hair, still wet from the shower.

Rio is sprawled across the floor of your room, taking up almost all of it; housing at Camp Lemonnier consists of converted shipping containers, each outfitted with its own perpetually whirring air conditioning unit. He is reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. “Like seven hours behind here, so early afternoon, I guess.” Then he looks up at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“I should probably call.”

“Should you really?”

“I want to. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Rio shakes his head and returns his attention to his reading material. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You love telling me what to do.”

“I wish you loved listening.” He flips a page, puzzled. “Why the fuck does Sophie like this book so much…?”

You open Facebook Messenger on your phone and make a call. The wifi isn’t good for videos, but old-fashioned audio calls usually work okay. There is an answer on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she says, and you can hear the entire house when she turns on speakerphone: the squeaking of the recliner, the droning of a talk show, indistinct speech and chuckling from other people, glass—cups, bottles, baking dishes, ashtrays—clinking sharply.

“Hi, Mama! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Aw, ain’t you sweet to call.” And you are testing her voice like water from a tap, icy cold, hot enough to scald. At the moment, Mama sounds perfectly lukewarm. “I didn’t count on hearing from you. I know how busy you are.”

That’s a landmine that you step gingerly around. “We definitely have a lot going on here, and there’s the time difference and everything…but I wanted to make sure to say hi, even if I can’t talk for long. What are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much.” You hear her smoking: breathe in, breathe out, a cunning sort of pause as she decides how to proceed. Of course there were no extravagant festivities planned. Nothing ever felt like a real holiday at home: Mama getting sloshed and burning the turkey on Thanksgiving, Christmas presents that had to be returned for grocery and gas money, fistfights and doors ripped off hinges on New Year’s Eve. You had decided years ago that Hallmark channel magic was pure fiction…but sometimes you get glimpses of it now. Thanksgiving dinner in some unceremonious chow hall with Rio and your other friends feels more like a holiday than anything else you’ve ever known. “You still in Africa?”

“It’s Djibouti, Mama, I told you. It’s on the Horn. Across the sea is Yemen and Saudi Arabia.”

“Why can’t they put y’all to work in your own goddamn country?”

“Well, we do that too sometimes.” You stall, listening to her smoking. Rio glances up at you from where he’s still reading on the floor. “They have some incredible beaches here. Yesterday morning we went down to the water and there were all these cute kids playing, and they only spoke French but Rio showed them how to play tic-tac-toe by drawing a board in the sand—”

“I like the beach,” she says, and you know you’ve made a mistake. “You remember that?”

Deflated now: “Yeah, Mama. I remember. Are the boys going to take you to Virginia Beach this summer?”

She scoffs. “We’ll see, but I doubt it. It’s expensive, girl.”

You sigh deeply. Rio was right. I shouldn’t have called. “We talked about this. I need to be saving up to get my own house one day, and my own car, and all those things I’ll need to have a life when I get out of the Navy—”

“And what about my house?!” Mama cries, damn near wails. “I’m gonna lose it! I can’t make the payments!”

You reply calmly: “Mama, that’s your house. That’s your business. And you’ve got more than one kid still living at home long after they’ve turned eighteen, so they need to be the people you’re asking to help, not me.”

“You’re gonna let your Mama be homeless? Is that what you called to tell me on Mother’s Day? What the hell kind of daughter are you?”

“I got out!” you shout into the phone, and Rio is scrambling off the floor to rush to you. “I’m learning things and I’m making money and I’m building schools and hospitals on the other side of the fucking planet, and you can’t be proud of me because you think it means you’ve failed, but the truth is that you could have gotten out too! All of you could have! But you didn’t, it was me, it was just me, and now you hate me for it!”

“You need to come home now,” Mama says. “You gotta take care of me, take care of your Mama. You only got one and she needs you, so you gotta heed me. That’s what’s right.”

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life watching you get wasted in that filthy house, and I’d work where, at the Dollar General? At Arby’s? And get knocked up by the first guy who shows any interest?”

“You’re giving me heart palpitations. I’m gonna have to go to the emergency room and it’s all your fault.”

Rio is whispering into your other ear, one of his massive palms resting on the back of your neck: “Just hang up. It’s not worth it. You can hang up, just hang up…”

“I want things to be normal,” you tell Mama, you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to get along with everyone, and help you as much as I can, but no matter what I do it’s not enough, and you’re always mad at me, and you’re always fighting with me—”

“You’re damn right I’m fighting with you, because you’re a spiteful, selfish child.”

“Hang up,” Rio is murmuring. “Hang up, hang up, hang up…”

“Mama,” you say, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

“When I’m homeless, you know you got no one but yourself to blame—”

You hit the red button to end the call, throw your phone down onto the bed, stare at the wall and swallow noisily, choking back sobs. You won’t let yourself cry. You’ve cried enough for them already. You have to keep moving forward. The only way out is through. “You were right,” you say to Rio at last, quiet and raspy. Your hands are trembling. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey.” He grabs your face roughly, forces you to look at him with your miserable shimmering eyes, grins hugely. “I’m your mom now, bitch.”

You laugh as tears spill down your cheeks, let him bury you in one of his smothering bear hugs, cling to him like a life raft in a storm.

[culturesfinest]

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[harryslittlefreakk]

it’s just us

(late night talking part 5)

summary: the 4th and final night of wembley, y/n and harry reflect on their week together and think about the future 🥹

warnings: super fluff, smut, bf!rry

a/n: i know these 2 are MY imaginary characters but i quite literally giggled and kicked my feet writing this !! i love these 2 so much 🤭 this will be the final ‘proper’ part but i have lots of extras planned! thank you so much to everyone for enjoying this series with me 🥹

you can join my taglist here! and find my masterlist here 🫶🏼 happy reading my loves!

part 1 2 3 4

“Hi, sunshine,” Harry smiled down at you as you awoke. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose, a crinkled and yellowed book in his hands. “Sleep ok?” he asked, setting the book down on the nightstand as you scooted over to nuzzle into his chest. “Meh,” you shrugged, draping an arm over his belly. “Miss you while m’sleeping.”

He laughed at this, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “Mum and Gem are coming over soon, asked if you want to have lunch with us,” he told you. “Really? I won’t be intruding?” you asked him, nibbling at the skin around your fingernail. “No baby, never.”

“You already missed a whole day with them yesterday, H,” you told him as he tangled his fingers in yours, pulling you into his lap. “Missed it for you, and missed a whole day with you too,” he said, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Just want to enjoy all my girls together, f’you’ll let me.”

“I’ll allow it,” you smiled. “M’a bit nervous though,” you confessed, suddenly frozen with the fear of meeting his closest family. Harry pressed a soft kiss to your lips, pulling one of his arms from around your body to brush stray hairs out of your face. “Don’t need to be nervous darling, they’ll love you.”

You slid off his lap suddenly, rushing to into your wardrobe. “Harry,” you groaned. “I only have one nice outfit and it might be a bit much.” You’d packed with one intention - go to the show, go home, sleep, repeat. You’d bought one fancy dress to wear for dinner with Joanie tomorrow night, your show outfits, and pyjamas and loungewear for the day time. “Show me,” Harry smirked, sauntering over to where you were rooting through your clothes in a frenzy. You yanked the dress of its hanger, slipping Harry’s stolen t shirt off your body before stepping into the dress.

“You look beautiful,” Harry smiled, arms folded across his chest as you twirled for him. It was one of your favourite dresses, a white midi dress with a deep neckline and light blue beach-themed decals dotted all over. You loved the way it looked against your tanned skin in the summer, the way the elastic waist cinched you in. It was simple, but made you feel incredible. “It’s not too much?” you asked Harry, smoothing the front of the skirt with your hands. “No, it’s perfect,” he told you, tapping on his pouted lips to tell you he wanted a kiss.

You padded over to him, peppering kisses all over his face before planting one firmly on his lips and slipping back out of the dress. “Now this is even better,” Harry smirked, stepping forward to land a blow on your ass cheek as you bent to pick up the dress. His strong hands grabbed a hold of your waist before you managed to pick the piece of clothing up, flinging you over his shoulder and marching back towards the bed as you shrieked and kicked. “It’s gonna get creased,” you half-yelled, words almost incoherent through your laughter. “I’ll iron it,” Harry replied, dropping you down onto the bed before climbing over you. He kissed all over your body, holding your arms down as you tried to push him away. The beginnings of stubble tickled you from head to toe, snorting and squealing as you writhed under him.

He stopped suddenly, pausing to gaze over you like an animal planning its attack. Harry moved back towards your face, lingering before you wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer. Your noses nudged over each other’s, smiles mirrored on your faces. He kissed you deeply, pulling your thong to the side and sweeping a finger through your folds with his free hand. He always kissed you like every time could be your last, like he never knew how much of your lips life would offer him so he had to savour every moment. It was impossible not to fall in love with him - the way he gave you everything you needed, romantically and sexually, too much to resist.

His thumb rubbed on your clit as his mouth grazed over your cheek, lips dragging slightly before he nibbled at your earlobe. Harry was definitely more sexually experienced than you, evident not just from his skill, but the way that he anticipated what you needed even before you realised. The tiny nip of his teeth sent your back arching, the pain giving you just the edge you needed. “You’re so beautiful,” Harry cooed, his voice delicate against your ear as he rubbed faster at your button. He slid two fingers into you, thumb still rubbing persistent circles against your clit. He found your g-spot almost immediately, knowing your body like the back of his hand by now. “Fuck, Harry, I’m gonna c-” you moaned, hips pressing deeper into the bed as your body tensed. You were cut off by a loud cry tumbling past your lips, thighs clamping around his hand as you came. Harry finally pulled away as you came down from your high, kissing you deeply before padding back to the bathroom, satisfied with his attack.

—

Though he’d wanted to take you all somewhere nice, Harry had settled on ordering food in and enjoying the sun on his hotel room’s balcony, not wanting to risk being spotted with you again so soon, especially before anybody else knew. You were helping him to tidy up his room now, desperate to do something to combat the ball of nerves in your stomach. “Relax, baby,” he told you, pulling you in for a hug. “I can’t, Harry. You only get one chance at a first impression and I’m so nervous about messing up.”

“Did you mess up the first time you met me?”

“No, but I was awkward. And shy. An-“

“And nothin’. You were adorable, even though you w’nervous around me. Now look at us,” he said. “If it gets too much or you need any help just squeeze my leg or something, okay pet?” You nodded, feeling somewhat calmer. You knew Harry could be shy too, and he knew exactly how you were feeling right now. It wasn’t long before the door knocked and Harry pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before opening it, Anne pulling him into a hug as soon as she saw him. “Hi, my darling,” she cooed, eyes crinkling as she looked him up and down. He looked especially adorable today, wearing wide legged jeans with (as he’d told you many times that morning) his favourite brown duck cardigan, a tight fitted white t shirt underneath. You loved his snuggly daytime outfits, and adored what he wore to shows, but seeing him pick out his favourite pieces and the way he styled them was your favourite thing yet.

As soon as she saw you standing meekly behind Harry, Anne almost shoved her son out of the way to take a look at you. He greeted Gemma as she stepped towards you, immediately wrapping you into a warm hug. “You’re beautiful,” she gasped, gripping the tops of your arms as you smiled. “What on earth are you stuck with him for?” Anne laughed, winking at you. “He’s got his perks,” you said. “It’s so lovely to meet you, I hope you don’t mind me being here.”

“Nonsense,” Anne insisted, “we were so excited to meet the girl Harry’s been obsessing over.” He blushed at this, shy smile taking over his face. Gemma pulled you into a hug next, exchanging names and hellos as the four of you walked towards the balcony. Harry wrapped an arm around you as you lingered by the sliding door, calling out to ask if anyone wanted something to drink. “I’ll get them,” he said, fingers dancing against your skin. “You sit, it won’t take a second,” you told him, turning to walk towards the coffee machine.

“You are smitten,” Anne gasped as Harry sat down opposite her, eyes following your every move. He shook his head in his hands, bright smile peeking through his fingers. “I know,” he confessed.

It wasn’t long before conversation turned to the leaked photos, and Anne gave you both a motherly lecture. “It won’t be long until more photos come out. And it won’t just be your face plastered on the front of magazines,” she told you. “I’ve seen first-hand how this information gets about, they will know everything about you, more than you know about yourself sometimes. I don’t want to nag, but if the pair of you are serious then you need to start telling your family and friends before they wake up and see you all over social media.”

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing a hand on Harry’s denim-clad thigh. “I’m just so frightened to be painted as some sort of groupie, like this was my evil little plan all along,” you told her. It was something you hadn’t even spoken to Harry about yet. You knew your friends and family would just be happy for you, but the world wouldn’t see you as someone who just fell in love, you’d be blindly hated by millions of girls. Harry had confided in you a little about the stress that the media creates in a relationship with him, the hatred and vitriol of journalists and ‘fans’ towards any woman he was spotted with. You understood why he wanted to protect this relationship as much as you did, and truthfully you thought he could be even more nervous than you were about going public. “It’s a risk you’ve got to take,” Anne told you. “Besides, within 5 minutes of walking into this room I could see how besotted you are with each other, and you’d have all of us behind you both, sweetheart.” You knew she was right, and your first hurdle would be telling Joanie.

—

Harry had booked a car to take the four of you to Wembley, having promised his mum and Gemma a behind the scenes look at everything going on. It was one of their favourite parts of him touring, he’d told you, seeing the tiny touches of him in his dressing room and stepping out onto the stage, imagining what it was like for him. Even after seeing it so many times, it never got any less incredible. “This is amazing, Harry, I can’t believe you get to do this every day.”

“Joy of my life,” he grinned, watching the three best women in his life looking out across the empty stadium. He picked up the tiny blue polaroid camera that sat in the wings, ready to capture little pictures of his band and his team. “Smile,” he called out. The three of you shuffled into position, arms around each other as you beamed in his direction. Anne insisted on taking a few of you and Harry next, 3 different pictures so you could all hold onto a copy.

“You gonna stick around?” he asked you, pulling you tight against his front. You checked the time on your phone, sighing as your head lulled back onto his shoulder. “I should go, Harry. Want to get a good view for my favourite concert.” He laughed against the top of your head, promising to walk you out once you’d all exchanged goodbyes.

“I’m gonna talk to Joanie tonight,” you told him. Your heart hammered in your chest at the very idea, but you knew how hurt she’d be if she found out via the press. It just seemed so soon, despite the fact that you’d usually tell her everything about who you were seeing, from the second you’d first laid eyes on them. It was all so different with Harry, and you knew it wouldn’t change your friendship with Joanie but it would definitely take over things for a while. “You sure?” Harry asked, fingers dancing across your forearm. You nodded. “Just want to get it out of the way. Feel like you’re my dirty little secret,” laughing through the nerves. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you scared?”

“So fucking scared.”

With this, Harry grabbed your arm, pulling you in a complete different direction than where you’d been heading. He dragged you into his dressing room, locking the door behind you before pressing you up against the door, legs wedged between yours. He was looking at you with the same animalistic gaze you’ve grown to understand, his breath hot against your mouth.

His lips ghosted over yours, tongue slipping past your teeth and licking circles around yours. You could feel him growing against your inner thigh, the tiniest taste of your lips enough to make him want more of you. Harry slid his hands behind you, palming at your soft ass before scooping you up and placing you down on the vanity, eyes dark with hunger as he gazed over you. “So perfect,” he whispered, hand cupping the nape of your neck as he dived in for another taste of your soft lips. He was insatiable, starved when it came to your pleasure - always like it was the first and last time he’d touch you, needing as much of you as he could get.

Harry bundled your dress up around your hips, groaning when he saw the wet spot on your panties, crisp from where your cream had soaked into them earlier in the day. He’d insisted you keep them on, the heavy material a reminder of how good he could make you feel. “Y’already wet for me, baby?” he rasped, slipping your tiny panties from your legs and stuffing them into his pocket. “Got you all worked up, huh?” Harry smirked as you shivered, the slightest brush of his fingers against your entrance shooting electricity through you. He licked the pad of his thumb before pressing it to your clit, leaning down to nip at your jawline when you whimpered beneath him. “Too sensitive, just fuck me please,” you whined, hips rocking back and forth to try to relieve some of the pressure that bubbled up inside of you with his one touch.

“Daddy’s needy little princess,” Harry cooed, lips soft against your cheek as he unbuttoned his jeans and let his hard cock spring free. He spat in his hand and rubbed it over his tip, guiding himself towards the centre of your parted legs. He entered you slow, one hand slipping under the bundle of fabric around your waist to grip onto your hip as he stilled inside of you, a groan slipping out as he felt your walls relax around his shaft. “More, H,” you pleaded, hooking your ankles around his back. He pulled out of you, looking down to see his head enveloped by your folds, cock twitching at the sight of your pretty pink lips wet around him. He fucked into you fast, thrusts brutal as he slammed his hips into you, catching you off guard. Every single time his tip hit your sweet spot you were crying out, your earlier orgasm only leaving you hungrier for him. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to to keep you grounded. It was as if you were on the outside looking in, watching your head lull back as he fucked into you, soul hovering somewhere separate to your body. He shifted slightly, angling you slightly upwards to hit a new, deeper angle inside of you. “So fucking big, so deep,” you whined, words tumbling out as you lost yourself in his cock. Your thighs tensed around his hips, pulling him tighter into your core as if there were anymore of him to take. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, the heat in your core bursting apart and rolling into every inch of your body. You cried out his name as you reached your climax, eyes rolling back in your head and stars all around you.

He’d never get enough of seeing you fucked out, cheeks pink and rosebud lips parted as you panted. It could send him over the brink in an instant, the combination of your walls spasming around his length as you came down from your high and the sight of what he’d done to you forcing his hot come out of him, even taking him by surprise as he painted your inner walls white. A hot and dirty little quickie was exactly what you both needed to clear your minds, keep your focus only on each other.

“Helped your nerves?” Harry grinned, wiping away a stray tear from your eye. You laughed, still dazed from your high. He slipped two fingers inside of you as he pulled out, stuffing his come back into your entrance. “You okay, sweet girl?” he asked you, helping your shaky legs to land back on the carpeted floor. “Mmm,” you hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his chest as you fell into him, unsteady on your feet. “Took my cock so good, huh? Left you all broken?” Harry mewled, words muffled against your hair. He slipped an arm around your waist as you stepped away from him, holding you up as he unlocked the door. “Come on, I’ll get my driver to take you home,” he smiled, content in his post orgasm bliss.

—

“I need to tell you something,” you said, words bursting out when you finally couldn’t bite them back any longer. “What?” Joanie asked as she dropped her phone into her lap. You handed her the same gift bag Harry had given you, the necklace and note placed inside with two of the polaroids you’d taken earlier. “There isn’t a pregnancy test in here, is there?” she gasped, blue eyes wide. “No! It’s about what I’ve been up to this week,” you smiled, eyes glinting, suddenly brimming with excitement to finally tell her everything.

Joanie pulled out the pictures first, squinting at them both she passed them between her hands. She looked up at you, back down at the pictures, back up to you. Mouth agape, brows furrowed as she reached back into the gift bag. She pulled out the note next, unfolding it gently before her eyes grazed over the writing. “What the hell,” she whispered, searching in your eyes for any hint of mischief, certain this was some kind of elaborate prank. You picked up the necklace box, turning it in Joanie’s direction before you opened it and showed her the pendant inside.

“What is this?” she murmured, frozen still except for her eyes wandering over each item. “This is who I’ve been seeing,” you squeaked. You peeked out through scrunched up eyes, unable to gage her reaction at all. She gasped suddenly, drawing a hand to her mouth. “This is where he was pictured, in this hotel.”

You waited for it to hit her, the pieces already slotting together in her head but not making sense yet. “Call him,” she demanded suddenly. “If this is real then you have his number.” You giggled, pulling up your text chain in your phone.

y/n: do u have a second to call? X

Joanie grabbed the phone from you as you turned it around to show her, scrolling quickly through your messages. She paused on the first message he’d sent you, his pre-show selfie. Just as she started to zoom in on the picture, your phone started buzzing with a call. She thrust it back into your hands quickly, whisper-shouting for you to answer. “Hi love, you okay?” Harry asked, his slight northern rasp a clear giveaway now. Joanie fell back into the bed, hands clutched over her heart as she kicked at the bed, all the pieces finally coming together in her mind. “I’m okay Harry,” you laughed, watching your best friend thrash around. “Just got instructed to call you to prove you’re real.”

“Hi Joanie,” Harry called out, laughing as she squealed in the background. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner, meet me later?”

“Of course sweet girl, let y’know when I’m done,” Harry said before hanging up the call.

“Oh my fucking god, y/n! What the actual fuck?” Joanie shrieked, bolting back upright. “I know!” you laughed, grabbing a hold of her hands as you squealed with her. You told her everything, from the way you met him by chance, to your first kiss, the ‘date’ he set up for you, and everything in between.

“It sounds mental saying it out loud, I’ve felt nuts all week,” you told her, running your hands over your face. “It is nuts,” she said, still blinking quickly, trying to clear some of the shock clouding her mind. “He’s incredible, honestly. It’s been the most insane week of my life, and it’s been so difficult to keep it from you. But it’s such a big thing, it’s like, life changing already even without people knowing,” you sighed.

“Do you think he could be the one? Joanie asked. “He could be,” you grinned. “If things keep going as they are, I don’t see why we couldn’t make it.”

“I need to fucking scream. Harry fucking Styles! The Harry Styles could be your one. No wonder he was looking at you like that the entire show, here I thought he just fancies you. Turns out you luuurve each other,” Joanie babbled, throwing herself back against the mattress again, shaking her head in her hands.

Harry really had been focused on you for the whole concert, your position only a few rows back in Jonny’s place meaning he could see you clearly throughout the entire thing. Knowing that you were going to explain it all to Joanie anyway gave him permission to be as flirty as he wanted, acting as if you were the only person watching. You were certain your pre-show activities had riled him up to end too, and thank god you’d jumped his bones before watching him up there. Shirtless under his overalls, thick biceps and tanned chest on display, he’d looked delicious. He got you hot under the collar anyway, but to see the way he was acting while looking like that, you could’ve easily blown off telling Joanie in favour of getting fucked into a coma by your favourite man. “Come on, let’s get you home,” you laughed, suddenly burning up as you thought about your man. “And not a word to Tom,” you warned, jabbing Joanie in the ribs as you stood up.

You messaged Harry to let him know you wouldn’t be long, you were only walking Joanie to the nearest tube station so just long enough for Harry to finish his meal with Anne and Gemma before coming to meet you.

Once you’d hugged Joanie goodbye and promised to give her the details of your evening with Harry, you lingered by the entrance of the station, bouncing on your heels as you waited for him. It was so silly but so exciting, meeting him in a public place and not worrying about prying eyes or how you’d explain your appearance on the front of tabloids to your best friend. You could hear laughter from across the street, and your heart bubbled in your chest when you looked over. There he was, laughing and joking with fans he’d bumped into. You strolled towards him, somewhat subconsciously, drawn to his presence. Harry glanced over to see who was approaching and his face lit up, a huge toothy grin taking over his features. “Thank you girls, I’ve got to run,” he smiled at the young fans, eyes sparkling as he watched you where you stopped, leant against the wall just a few feet away from him. “Hi darling,” he grinned, whipping out an enormous bouquet of roses from behind his back. You gasped, eyes flitting between the flowers and his smile as he held them out for you, planting a gentle kiss to your lips as your hands met around the paper-clad stems. They were the biggest and probably most beautiful roses you’d ever seen. Twice the size of the ones you’d see in supermarket aisles, the perfect pale pink and ivory. “They’re incredible, H. What did I do to deserve these? Or what did you do?” you laughed, taking a big sniff of the floral scent. “Jus’ saw them and thought of you,” he smiled, taking your free hand in his. “This is nice,” you told him, head resting against his arm as you walked. He hummed appreciatively, squeezing your hand in his.

“Look, H!” you pointed, spotting a familiar sight that you hadn’t noticed before. The starbucks where you’d first met, only 5 days yet somehow a lifetime ago. “Can you imagine if we hadn’t both gone there?”

“Can you imagine if I didn’t work up the courage to talk t’you?” Harry laughed, tugging you across the road to get a coffee.

—

“How many kids are we going to have?”

“Hm?” you looked over at Harry, swilling the last dregs of your latte around the walls of the cup. You were back on his balcony now, looking out over the city that had brought you your love. It was so comfortable now, so right between the two of you that even sitting there in silence felt like something you’d done so many times, for so many years. It was scary, terrifying and yet so exciting. You were almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, scared to look around the corner in case a secret girlfriend or personality change was waiting to trip you up.

Harry repeated himself, lips curving into a tiny smirk. “Start with one and see how that one turns out I think,” you told him. He laughed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he looked over you. He watched you like he wanted to drink in everything about you, searching for any new detail to memorise.

“What are you thinking about, princess?” he asked you, noticing how lost in thought you were.

“I’m just frightened, H. It’s only been 5 days,” you told him, looking over at him with big brown eyes. “I know, sweet girl. S’a lot so soon, huh?” he replied, holding one of your hands to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. You nodded, “yeah. And I- not that I don’t think we could work but it’s scary. Having the world know my name and forever being associated with you if the distance is too much.”

“Then come with me,” he pleaded, “be my little groupie.” He was smirking now, though his eyes remained serious. “I can’t, Harry,” you groaned. “It’s too late notice to take any longer off work and not all of us are rich.”

“Then quit your job. Let me help you just until the tour finishes and then you can find something else.”

“You are so out of touch,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t just quit my job, not work my notice and then expect something else to come up in a month.”

“Says who?”

“Says the world, you doughnut.”

“Marry me.”

“Harry! You are so insane,” you shrieked.

“I’m serious. Marry me, be with me forever, have my babies.” He really was dead serious, toying with his rings as he looked at you.

“I am not marrying you after 5 days.”

“Then we’ll just date.“

“Date?”

He stood up as you questioned him, suddenly rushing out of the hotel room. You followed him slowly, laughing as he knocked on the door. “Come in,” you called out. “Open it, woman,” Harry shouted, fist banging on the wood again. He was standing there grinning as you opened it to let him back in, totally confused by what he was up to.

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he started, holding out a hand for you to shake. “I know we’ve just met but I’m falling in love with you, and I’d love to take you out tomorrow night.”

EEEEE!!!!! my little loves. i thought this was a nice place to end it but rest assured i have about 7 ideas for extras already half drafted so this won’t be the last you see of these 2!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

taglist: @ameerakane20 @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @angstygyal @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @poojasdesk @averytermaat @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[mitchellpete]

Firsts

summary: You’re bad at playing hard to get, and you don’t want to let the opportunity slip. Maverick gives you your first motorcycle ride.

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

tags/warnings: maverick being flirty, shy!reader but also not really?, some drinking mentioned, overall fluff

word count: 1.4k

A/N: i feel terrible that i keep making excuses not to post so i'll let you guys have this one. i don't know who's still on top gun tumblr but i hope you guys are still around. and that you guys like this! it was supposed to be a drabble but..?? ANDDD one more thing: my request page has updated also!

-

“Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

“I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you.

Except he doesn’t, because out of the many outings at the bar, tonight had been the first time he’d spotted you. You were ashamed to admit that it was kind of flattering having him follow you around for a good half an hour, even after you locked eyes with mustache Hawaiian shirt blonde guy across the room. Ah, it was all a game. But God, was Maverick pretty. And charming. You couldn’t decide whether you were bad at playing hard to get or if you simply didn’t mind being the game.

(It was definitely the former.)

Panic filled you later that night when you watched him slip his jacket on on the opposite side of the room. He was still distractedly rambling with his friend, however, and you took the opportunity to push past at least 5 people and make it out of the door before he did. 

What to say or do the moment he stepped out? Your head was empty. But hey, he’d see you out there, make another flirtatious comment, make you blush and then it’d go on from there, right? God, please. 

This had to have been like the fourth time you’d seen him. He was most certainly the prettiest out of all the aviators that confidently waltzed into the bar every time you and your friend met for drinks. 

Miramar. A lovely place, truly. 

Beautiful, too. The sunset is beginning to form, and you step towards the wooden fence separating the sand from the small parking lot in front of the building. A packed bar, only a few vehicles. You wonder if any of them belong to Maverick. You pray that he walks this way at all.

The beach in front of you is littered with people, families, couples. There is chatter everywhere, drowning out the sound of the bell on the door behind you, or the sound of his voice if he happens to be walking out, talking to his friend.

That’s why when you eventually zone out maybe a good ten minutes later, you don’t notice that he’s already walked past you, striding towards the vehicle closest to you. The motorcycle. Red, black, adorned with decals that match the patches on his pretty jacket. You wish you’d noticed. 

He’d certainly noticed you, watching you avoid his gaze as he swung a leg over and took a seat. “Going for a swim?”

FUCK.

Tongue in your cheek, you meet his eyes. “No. I.. needed some air. Where’s your friend?”

“Where’s yours?” A cheeky smile spread on his face as he reached for the handles. 

Oh, he’s sooooooo—

“Inside. I’m uh, actually waiting for another friend right now. She’s picking me up soon, I think.” Lies, lies, lies.

“In a car?” 

“On a motorcycle, actually. How fast does yours go?” Jesus Christ. You know nothing about motorcycles, by the way.

He leans slightly forward, intrigued by your response. “Faster.”

“Hm.” You glance out at the shoreline again, at the sun turning bright orange. You feel the warmth on your cheeks. Stupid. You’re playing hard to get again, for fuck’s sake. He’s too pretty, it makes you nervous. 

Lucky for you, he breaks the tense feeling in your stomach with a laugh. “Actually?” 

He sticks the key into the ignition, filling you with the slight panic from before that he’s slipping away.

You fake a snicker, although it comes out dry and humorless. “I’m kidding. I don’t know a thing about motorcycles.”

The sudden rev of the engine startles you, and he smiles. “Some people are just meant to look pretty on the back of ‘em, I think.”

There was already a warmth to your cheeks, but now it’s heat. “Well.. that sounds like fun.”

Furrowed brows. “Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

You snicker again, this time for real. “I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you. Playfully rolling his eyes, he revs the engine again and waves you over with his hand. “Come on.”

Your face falls. A different kind of panic. “Huh?”

“Just a quick ride. Before your friend gets here.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“You’re scared?” He grins.

“I—No. I just..” You hesitantly make your way over, your legs suddenly weak. “I drank a little, so I don’t—”

“Can you relax?” He laughs again, his laughter as pretty as he is. “It’s not scary, I promise. Here, step on that part. Just hold onto me and hop on.” He points down below and then sticks his arm out for you to grab.

“I’m not scared,” you mumble as you manage to perch yourself on the space behind him, careful not to grip his arm too tight. “I think you’re a little strange, is all.”

 “How so? You gotta hold onto me, sweetheart.” Another engine rev. What is his deal?

You lean forward as much as you can, pressing yourself to him and wrapping your arms around his middle. The seat behind his is slightly raised, and your face absentmindedly presses into the back crook of his neck. It’s too late to pull back when you realize, and the heat in your cheeks starts to burn. Nevertheless, you go through with your accusations.

“Well,” you begin, conscious of your voice as to not be loud in his ear. “You follow me around the bar for some stupid bet, and.. now you’ve forced me onto your bike.”

Ha. As if you hadn’t planned all of this. Sort of.

Another pretty laugh. “It’s a motorcycle,” he mocks you. 

That gets a laugh out of you, squeezing your arms around him a bit as he starts to move. 

“Although, I do have to say—” He halts, a foot firm on the ground, and turns to look you over his shoulder. “Out of anybody I’ve followed around the bar, you’re the only one I’d give a ride to.”

God. You think you’re already in love with him. “That so?”

He presses his lips together and nods, fake serious. 

Pressing your forehead to the back of his jacket, you chuckle. “I guess that means I owe you something.”

“I’ll start driving on one condition,” he offers, his tone playful.

“Hm?”

“Give me a kiss.”

Oh boy. It’s easy by now; you’re already melting into him. Glancing up, your surroundings become a blur and all the outside chatter, the bell on the door and the sound of the other cars go completely silent as you lean your neck to reach. It’s a peck, but it’s complete; all of your lips feel the soft skin of his cheek, plump from a smile under your kiss. And then your chin goes to rest on his shoulder, and next thing you know, you’re off. 

There’s suddenly wind; you weren’t prepared for your hair to flow, as he took off from the parking lot and immediately down the road.

You’re clinging onto him with all your might, maybe a little scared for a moment, but then it starts to feel nice. You don’t even recall the moment he’d slipped his aviators on; perhaps the little kiss you gave him left you in awe instead of vice-versa, or maybe it was the drinks you’d had earlier? Maverick says something but you barely hear it, your stomach fluttering in excitement as he swerves between cars to get out of their way, to fly by beyond them on the road and to make the moment about just the two of you. Nobody else on the road. 

He turns onto a different road, this one longer and less crowded, and you squeal as he starts going faster. A euphoric feeling overtakes you, and even in the wind, through the sound of the engine and Maverick’s muffled voice, you’re convinced you can’t let him slip away after this one either. 

“Maverick!”

Wind, wind, wind. The engine.

Tapping a hand on his side instead, you catch his attention. He slows down just a bit, momentarily glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at the road. 

“You wanna stop?” he yells.

“No!” you shout back. “I just wanted you to know something!”

“What is it?!”

You lean closer to his ear, face in the crook of his neck again. “I was lying! There is no friend!”

He grins. “I know!”

[sl-walker]

Emergency Nail Sales!

So, normally I would sit down and lovingly name and number sets of nails my wife makes, and give them an equally loving description. Unfortunately, there are way too many to do that with this time around, so we'll go with numbers. Several of the prior set are still for sale, too!

These, however, will just get a number and a price and a brief description. I also gotta add on shipping because that's almost $5 a pop (I can screencap the shipping label receipt if you don't believe me and the mailers aren't free themselves). That being said, you'd be paying a heck of a lot more to wear nails that look like these from a salon, so they're still a pretty good deal! And if you buy more than one set, obviously you only pay once for shipping.

This is to offset my unemployment and also the fact I smacked a deer, which took my car off the road. It's literally paying utilities, buying groceries and helping with transportation. Anyway, none of this is asking for a hand out. (I know everyone would help, but I also have a very hard time accepting it without giving something back.) <3 I'm still taking art commissions and the nails are obviously a tangible good you get to hold and use!

First up are HALLOWEEN NAILS. Order 'em tonight or tomorrow and you'll hopefully have 'em on the day!

1 - A set of thirty Halloween themed nails with a lovely cats eye on several, a heavy dark glitter on others and silver metallic on the rest. These nails have decals of witches and kitties on them! Twelve sizes, three half-sizes. Sorry about the vague blur and lens flare effect, that was not intentional. $40 + $5

2 - A second set of thirty Halloween themed nails, these are more witchy and eclectic, black with white decals and a heavy green glitter. Another case of accidental lens-flaring, but a truly quality set of nails. Fifteen whole sizes. $40 +$5

3 - Matte Halloween nails! Done in violet matte in some, a metallic matte in others and ten with awesome occult themed decals, this is a set of thirty with twelve full sizes and three half-sizes! $35 +$5

4 - Not explicitly Halloween themed, these matte nails are a dusky sort of rose and a March-in-Ohio kind of green. Fifteen full sizes for a total of thirty nails, these would look fine to wear to a formal event. $25 +$5

5 - These are so much fun. A set of thirty beach-themed nails, turquoise glitter on a third, gold glitter on a third and white with nautical and beach themed decals on the rest. These are twelve full sizes and three half-sizes. $40 +$5

6 - A really rich set of thirty nails in a rose and gold/coppery kind of heavy glitter. Ten of them have jewels on the top! These look stunning in the light, especially if you happen to see them in bright light. Twelve full sizes and three half-sizes. $35 +$5

7 - Another set of thirty with a number of cats eyes, this time in a muted teal with the cats eyes shining in a likewise muted gold. Accent nails in a more vibrant teal with gold holo decals on them round off the set with a pop of color. Twelve full sizes and three half-sizes. $35 +$5

8 - A set of silver glitter and smoky dark gray/black cats glitter eye nails with eclectic copper and silver and holo decals on several. There's nothing about these that aren't beautiful in the light, the play of the magnetic reactive polish making them dynamic. Twelve full sizes, three half-sizes. $40 +$5

9 - A set of thirty nails that put me in mind of the Ukrainian folk costume my daughter wore to show-and-tell. With some dark red metallic glitter cats eyes, some gold metallic glitter, some with decals, and some white nails with red and white flowers and other decal accents, this is a set of twelve full sizes and three half-sizes. $30 +$5

10 - While not explicitly Halloween themed, this set of thirty looks the part regardless. If I remember correctly, my wife told me that the purple ones are temperature reactive? Even if I don't remember correctly, though, they do have a lovely sort of holo-ish flake in them to go with the black-and-silver heavy glitter nails. This set has fifteen whole sizes. $30 +$5

11 - A really rich looking (literally!) set of thirty nails done in gold and copper, some of which are glitter, others of which are a basecoat with metallic decals like veins of marble running through them. A really beautiful collection, twelve full sizes and three half-sizes. $35 +$5

12 - A truly neat set of thirty almond-shaped nails, several of which are a rich orange, dark yellow or brown and then accent nails in a brown heavy glitter, this set is reminiscent of the mid-century modern set last time around! It's elegant and fun and it wouldn't look even a little out-of-place in someone's fondue party in the seventies. $30 +$5

13 - This set of thirty is varying shades of green on one side and purple on the other; some are heavy glitter, some are a lighter metallic glitter and some are straight colors. This is another set that isn't necessarily Halloween themed, but can definitely pass for it! $35+$5

14 - Oh my god, kitties. This set of thirty is kitty themed, for everyone out there who loves cats. There are silver metallic nails, fine silver glitter nails and some white nails with reflective cat-themed decals. If you love cats, this is so the set for you. $35+$5

15 - A set of thirty very spring-themed nails, including white nails with dried flowers and pink and green decals, this set also has metallic glitter pink on one side and metallic glitter green on the other. Really pretty and light. $30+$5

16 - Probably my favorite of the whole lot, this one is actually scratch-and-dent. With deep silvery cats eyes on some, heavy black and silver glitter on others, and a dark almost-purple cats eye on yet others, all offset with an occasional dark blue, this one reminds me of some facet of astronomy. They're stunning and the fact that we lost one off the end and therefore there are only twenty-eight means you get 'em for a bit off! $35 +$5

[where-did-the-groove-go]

Okay, so I've been lucky enough to encounter a Volkswagen Thing irl on more than one occasion since constantly keeping an eye out for them in the past couple years, after first becoming aware of their existence as what Ron still stubbornly drives to this day. Actually, the first one I saw was a VERY lucky sighting, but I didn't even realize it was a Thing until afterwards. Because I'd been looking for something that looked like Ron's car. Not THIS:

That's the Acapulco Thing, which was briefly sold in 1974--only about 400 of them--after being designed to shuttle guests around at a couple of high-end beach resorts in Mexico. In retrospect I probably should've realized a lot sooner, because my reaction upon seeing it had been "What the heck is that THING?!" It dawned on me a couple days later, just because you'd be hard-pressed to find any other car that boxy, though a quick Google image search hadn't pulled up any with the surrey top.

(My second Thing sighting was much more as expected and obvious; it even had a decal plastered on its side which read "The Thing".)

Several months later, thanks to the Boss Accountant showdown being posted here, I found out that the Thing is a relatively rare car. Which prompted me to spend a few days fixated on reading about them. Then I was finally able to put a name to the Acapulco variant.

Something else I learned... Turns out that if you're anywhere near LA and you see a Thing that looks like Ron's, it almost definitely is.

(I say "near LA" only because I doubt Ron is doing any serious roadtripping in it these days.)

A bit of backstory: the Thing was advertised as a fun car. A beach cruiser, a safari car. Aimed at surfers and hippies and other adventurous types. It's a convertible. The windshield folds down. The doors can be taken off.

That's not the impression I initially had of the Thing, and perhaps with good reason: Ron's is a bit unique even among Things. For one, it has the less common factory hardtop on it, instead of the convertible one. Additionally, in 1974, black was not a stock color for Things. They only came in colors suitable for 1974: orange, yellow, white, and avocado green. Which means that more than likely, Ron specifically wanted his black (because of course he did), and would've had to go out of his way to get it repainted or find one that had already been repainted. A full repainting job is no small feat for a Thing because a lot of the metal is exposed inside the car, meaning that everything has to come out of it to have the interior repainted--and we can see that Ron's has.

Anyway, I just think that makes it all the more poetic. Not only does Ron's car reflect his personality in being "a little bit out of the ordinary", but his black utilitarian ride is a brightly colored beach-mobile in disguise. Nothing more fitting for a guy whose crisp shirts and ties and slicked-back hair and quiet demeanor would never belie it now but one of his formative experiences was spending the 1960s surfing.

So if you're ever feeling sad, just remember that Ron is driving the same car as the Acapulco Thing.

[wehaveimagineshere]

Oh you say you want more Carlos? I got more Carlos for ya! How do you feel about domestic fluff, cuz im thinking of a scenario where Carlos and Reader are newlyweds who just finished settling into their new house together after a long honeymoon, ready to live in bliss together (until the next BOW threat but we don't think about that). Could it be kept gender neutral too? Thanks! You write him so in-character I couldn't resist asking you for a little more!

Hell yeah more Carlos! Oh man, just thinking of them having finally unpacked most of the important boxes and just sitting down with the buzz of being freshly married and having their own home...

Love it anon. Thank you so much for sharing this prompt with me! <3

~*~*~

"Hey, where are the mugs?"

Flopping your head back against the couch armrest, you squint your eyes in thought. "Uuuhhhh, top left shelf above the microwave."

A short pause from the kitchen. "Nope, these are the glasses."

"Shit. Uh."

"I'll just use glasses. You like the one with the flower decals, right?"

"Yep."

Silence settles back as you stretch your legs out, aching from the move and all the adventuring you'd done on your honeymoon. When Carlos said he knew how to have fun on vacation, you'd honestly expected him to be talking about the bedroom. Instead he'd taken you to beaches and cafes and hikes across multiple different countries, always having some sort of story to accompany each location.

One perk about being stationed all over the world was that after the work is done, you can explore a bit. And man had he taken notes.

"Where're the hot chocolate packets?"

How long was it going to take until you two could remember where everything was in this brand new house? "In the pantry?" Shifting, you spot the blanket folded along the opposite side of the couch and inwardly groan. Blanket warm, but moving bad.

"This kitchen looks so damn nice," you hear him call again. "We have the little hanging rack for wine glasses. That's fancy as shit."

"You said I could have whatever I wanted."

"Yeah, and I'm saying you're fancy as shit."

"Is that bad?"

"Hell no. People are going to think I'm sophisticated now."

"We can't have that. Don't want to lie to them."

There's another pause as you hear cupboard doors open and close. "How do you feel about strawberry hot chocolate?"

Your nose scrunches. "Uh. Ew? I thought we had caramel syrup?"

"Oh we do. But if you find yourself telling lies about me again you might just find yourself with strawberry hot chocolate."

Laughing quietly, you reply, "Who knows, I might just like it."

There's clinking of glasses. "That sounds like a quick way to divorce."

"You dragged me across so many trees and bugs and bears and I'm not demanding divorce. Sounds like you're a little bit of a baby. Little Carlos Oliveira, so fragile he can't let anyone know he grabs glasses from the cupboards like a peasant."

Finally, you spot your husband round the corner, two glasses of hot chocolate clutched in his hands. You sit up as he sets his down on the coffee table and holds out yours, pulling back when reach for it. "How much do you trust me?"

"Absolutely not at all with that question," you respond immediately, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He hands the drink out again in silence, this time letting you take it from him. Settling down beside you and retrieving his own glass, he snags the remote and calls the tv to life.

Tucking a foot underneath yourself, you squint hard at the drink before giving your nonchalant boyfriend a side eye. "If this has strawberry we're getting a divorce."

"Now who's a fragile peasant?"

Pressing your lips together, hating that he's using your own words again you, you slowly bring the drink to your lips. Hesitate. Take a small sip. Hesitate. Take a larger sip. Smack Carlos across the shoulder. "You're such an ass."

"What? You got your caramel hot chocolate." Sitting back, he grabs the blanket you spied earlier and starts one armed shaking it loose. "The boys were right. Marriage sucks. Can't ever win."

Laughing, you lean into his side and take another sip. "I'm not going to forget this."

"Yes, your Majesty." Tossing the blanket over your laps, he curls his arm around your shoulders and tucks you in tight. "What do you want to watch tonight?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Well, there is that one movie that came out not long ago."

There's a pause. "You going to make me guess?"

"Maybe."

Placing a rather grumpy kiss on the crown of your head, he tosses the remote onto your side of the blanket. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Good. I don't want anything else taking that privilege from me."

In a faux murmur, he laments, "Who did I just get married to?"

Smiling wide, you shift so you're curled up and bring up Netflix. "The love of your life, obviously."

"I dunno, that ice cream back in Denmark has been haunting my dreams."

Unable to keep the laugh back from that one, you click onto your movie and settle back. "Alright big guy. Thanks for the drink."

"You're very welcome."

[msweebyness]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

I hope everyone has an amazing holiday! Peace and love!!!!

As a treat, here’s what I HC the Miraculous Akuma and Theater couples got each other!!! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Polycule:

(What They Got)

Adrien: A handmade, Ladybug & Chat Noir- themed letterman jacket (Mari), A new case for his keyboard with the logos for each member of Kitty Section (Luka), A boxed set of a manga series she’d showed him that he loved (Fruits Basket, to be precise)(Kagami)

Marinette: A new sewing machine with several custom settings for different techniques (Adrien), A medley of all the compositions he’s written for her, and got it framed (Luka), Several bolts of a luxurious Japanese silk to use for her projects(Kagami)

Luka: Four new guitar picks with miniature logos, one for each of them (Mari), A new electric guitar with a specially designed snake decal (he noticed how much Luka seems to like them) *wink wink* (Adrien), A custom made display case for his guitar pick collection (Kagami)

Kagami: A beautiful red, black and gold, dragon-themed kimono, made by hand (Mari), sketchpads with high-end drawing ink pens (Adrien), a large plushy of Ein from Cowboy Bebop (one of her favorite anime)(Luka)

Alyno:

He Got Her: A video camera in Rena Rouge’s color scheme, with a fox decal that Marinette designed

She Got Him: A new set of luxury headphones with Carapace-inspired patterns (designed by Mari, natch)

Myvan:

He Got Her: A bound book of all the poems and songs he’s written for her.

She Got Him: A new set of drumsticks with one of their names and a symbol (crossed bones for him, a bird for her) carved on each one

JuleRose:

Juleka Got Rose: A special floral perfume she had custom made for her, with a special-designed bottle and scents that represented both of them

Rose Got Juleka: A bracelet with their respective personal Kitty Section logos connected by a crystal heart

Kimdine:

He Got Her: A necklace made of a heart-shaped shell he found on a beach trip, engraved with their names

She Got Him: A set of workout sweats with a personalized logo for him monogrammed on them (Marinette helped her)

NathMarc:

Nath Got Marc: A new notebook with a cover he’d personally sketched and painted, and some new pens

Marc Got Nath: A large, high-quality set of oil pastels and a new sketchbook

Sabrinelmar:

She Got Him: A scrapbook with pictures of all the times they’ve gone to visit one another

He Got Her: Tickets for her to come visit him in New York on Valentines Day (which happened to fall on a Saturday that year.)

Breckvie:

She Got Him: Made a mix of her singing all his favorite songs, and a Texas Flag blanket, made by Marinette

He Got Her: A necklace with an opal nightingale pendant, and some new music composition books

Cand-Yeon:

She Got Him: A basketball autographed by the members of his favorite professional team (your mom having connections can have benefits!)

He Got Her: A bracelet with several cheerleading themed charms, and a center heart with their initials carved

Jessthony:

Jesse Got Anthony: A new leather jacket with a raven decal embroidered on the back (courtesy of Marinette)

Anthony Got Jesse: A weighted quilt, and the patches were playbills of all his favorite shows.

Margo:

She Got Reshma: A cosplay hoodie of Inuyasha’s Robe of the Fire Rat, with a handmade replica of the Kotodama No Nenju.

She Got Lacey: A bag for her rock-climbing gear that she’d decorated herself

Have a very merry Christmas, everybody!!!!

[bella-wall-studios]

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