#crochet beach cover

[youremyonlyhope]

I love when I see posts like "Share how many crochet WIPs you currently have! I have 5, it's so many!"

Like, girl, I have unfinished projects from over a decade ago that I refuse to frog on the off chance I decide to finish them. I've found years-old projects I forgot I even started and will impulsively just finish it on the spot. I've started three different projects in the last 2 months, including one I started yesterday, that I already know I may or may not finish within the year depending on motivation.

The number of WIPs I have is infinite.

[garust]

[flumenfluxicrochet]

Crochet Beach Cardigan Cover Up

Etsy Link

[shswank]

Crochet Beach Cover-Up Top l Size One Size

Crochet Beach Cover-Up Top: Sexy beach cover-up top features a beautiful crochet design with tassels.

Size: One Size.

Color: White, blue, peach.

Material: Polyester.

Approx. measurements lying flat: Bust 16” without stretching. Length 30” to the longest part from the shoulder.

Condition: Pre-owned, no visible flaws or stains. In excellent condition!

SKU 2rh

[eggroll-sama]

When Your Bikini Top Goes Loose

The Spider Society is hosting a beach party and you were invited. It was supposed to be a nice sunny outing with your lovely boyfriend, until an accident occurs with your bikini top…BASICALLY the stereotypical anime beach swimsuit trope. How would the boys react?

Miles

Tries to block the view with his body because he doesn’t want anybody else to see his girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but his skinny stature doesn’t help, especially if you’re on the thicker side.

“O-kay! Everybody turn around! Just a little outfit malfunction, nothing to see here!”

Probably draws more attention by opening his mouth, but he didn’t mean it. Very protective boyfriend. Webs a random beach towel from the ground (apologizes later to whoever it belonged to) and hands them to you. He will help you hold it up while you fix your outfit malfunction. Very awkward but respectful. He would try to act cool and indifferent, but his mind is running 100 miles an hour.

99% chance he’ll get jealous and put off if someone saw you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell it’s bothering him. If you ask him about it to tease him, he’s going to deny it to his grave.

Hobie

The most chill when it happens. Doesn’t get possessive if someone saw your chest since he’s a believer in normalizing public nudity, but will shoot web on their face if they were ogling or making you uncomfortable. The man just quietly saunters over to not make a big scene and helps you out. Afterwards he’d joke that his hands will be more trustworthy for your chest.

To make sure that the bikini bra doesn’t go loose again, he makes it more secure for you with his spiderwebs. 100% full proof and the bikini won’t ever go loose again.

“Okay, give a little twirl for me now. Damn, absolutely stunnin’.”

Gives you a little slap on the butt and a kiss on the cheek. Doesn’t care if anyone else sees.

Pavitr

As the ever observant boy that he is, he notices it going loose even before you. Quickly used his webs so that it covers your chest on time.

“Ay, that was a close one! Good thing your amazing boyfriend was there to help you!”

Might get creative when he’s tired out from swimming and playing volleyball, and starts crocheting you a bikini outfit while you’re laying on him. According to him, he’s a “talented, amazing, super cool, handsome” boyfriend like that. He’ll use your favorite colors and even asks you what type of design you’d prefer.

Miguel

Doesn’t have the spidey-sense to notice your bikini top going loose before it’s too late. His eyes instantly scan the area, landing on a few spider people that fervently shake their head in denial of seeing anything or acting like they were distracted.

Holds you in his arms bridal style, ignores you telling him to put you down, and takes you to the beach bathroom where you can fix your top.

He acts standoffish when you come back, and he would give you a half-baked answer if you ask what’s wrong. You get your answer when he starts to act clingier and protective over you. You catch him glancing at your bikini top’s strings several times to make sure it doesn’t go loose again and when you suggest doing anything physical like swimming or volleyball, he gets skeptical.

“What’s wrong with reading with me under the parasol? …dios, I’m just too worn out to go back into the water…(sees you running back to the water)…ay coño (chases you).”

[1800titz]

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin. 

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places. 

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter. 

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals. 

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents. 

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes. 

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.” 

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder. 

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band. 

“Can I grab you another?” 

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip. 

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth. 

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?” 

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice. 

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures. 

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc. 

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation. 

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth. 

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again. 

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split. 

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation. 

It’s a different story behind the door. 

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges. 

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?” 

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again. 

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together. 

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.” 

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway. 

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet. 

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters. 

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing. 

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to. 

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana. 

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.” 

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph. 

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough. 

Eventually. 

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat. 

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock. 

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.” 

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing. 

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head. 

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini. 

[iluvmattsbeard]

what have you done to me? (c.s)

master list

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: swearing

preview: you and Chris have been friends for a long time. everyone has teased how good of a couple you'd be. but Chris has always shot down the rumors. you never looked at him that way. but Chris on the other hand? he's been acting off.

a/n: I love mamma mia and obviously I love chris, so I have decided to write this inspired by one of the scenes from the movie. but with my twist of course. hope you enjoy! - L 🤍

you wake up with the light hitting your face from it peeking through the curtains. you rubbed your eyes as you grabbed your phone. to see a text from Nick.

nick sturniolo

y/n wake up! you have to help us prepare for today!

you lay your head back smiling as you reply. today the triplets have planned a trip to the beach. inviting a bunch of people from school. it wasn't really your thing but Nick, Matt, and mostly Chris convinced you on going.

y/n

i'm sorry for waking up so late. I was up all night tossing and turning. i'll be there as soon as I finish getting ready!

you get out of bed as you walked over to your bathroom. you do your morning routine. brushing your teeth, washing your face, and you ended up shaving your legs. you don't remember the last time you've been to the beach. to be completely honest, you didn't even know how to swim.

you go to your closet as you scrummage through your drawers trying to find a swim suit. after a minute of searching, you find a flattering blue two piece where the top is strapless. you put it on as you stare at yourself in the mirror. it complimented your body very well. you smile a bit before putting on ripped shorts and a crocheted cover up top. you packed your tote bag with extra clothes. just in case you actually go in the water.

you pick up your phone wondering why Chris hasn't texted. he usually is the one texting and blowing up your phone. but he didn't today. "that's odd." you whisper to yourself.

Chris' POV

today I woke up with a thought in my head. which i've been having these past days. me and y/n have been friends for years. she practically looked at me and my brothers as her own siblings. but I couldn't push the thought out of my head. I could hear my heart pounding when I thought about it.

i put a pillow over my face as I laid there and sighed. Chris you're being delusional i said in my head. I took the pillow off my face and reached for my phone. I clicked on her contact, going to text her, but, I stop myself. I shake my head as I put my phone back down. I need to stop with the thoughts. she's my best friend. nothing more. despite what everybody says.

"Christopher! have you texted y/n? it's already 10 a.m!" nick yells out at me. "no I have not." I said stepping out my room. he looks at me while shaking his head, "why not? she has to help us out." he says grabbing his phone, "I have to do everything myself like always!" he continues on. Matt lets out a laugh as I roll my eyes walking to the bathroom.

End of Chris' POV

you grab your keys as you head out the door. you get into your car and buckle up pulling out your phone to connect your music. the triplets lived 10 minutes away so you texted the group chat saying you were on your way. you drive as you hum to the music playing.

Chris' POV

"she's on the way!" nick yells out practically jumping. "at least I'd finally get some help." he continues as Matt and I roll our eyes.

as time passes by, we hear the door bell ring. shit. it's her. Nick runs to the door and opens it with a big smile. "finally!" he screeches out. they both hug as I lock eyes with her. they pull away from each other and she walks up to me hugging me. "why haven't I heard from you?" she says curious. "I didn't have time to text. I was busy getting ready." I lie with a small smile. "Chris your hair is still a mess and you're in your pajamas. i'm pretty sure you're not ready." she says laughing.

i roll my eyes before replying, "whatever. you don't need to know everything." she smiles going to hug Matt. "so... what is the plan for right now?" she says grabbing a water from the fridge. "well we have to head to the store and buy a few things. I told everyone to bring whatever they want." Nick says. "then what are we doing standing around?" she says with a smile, "lets go!" she shouts happily. "wait! I'm not ready." I say. "then go Christopher!" Nick shouts at me. Matt and y/n laugh at Nick's words. I ran to my room and got ready.

End of Chris' POV

as you guys waited for Chris to finish up, you sat on their counter thinking. why did he lie? a very obvious lie. he's acting so strange. he couldn't even keep eye contact with you. you shrugged it off. it bothered you because he was your best friend and you wanted him to tell you everything. Chris finally finishes getting ready and you guys put your shoes on heading out the door.

you all take the mini van with Matt driving, Nick in the passenger seat, and you in the backseat with Chris. you all buckle up as you hear Nick speak, "here we go!" you giggle at his enthusiasm. as Matt starts driving, you glance at Chris trying to read his face. he was too busy on his phone. he looked normal even though his actions said other wise.

you guys finally arrived at the store. you guys get out of the car, walking inside. you see Nick gasp right away. "fruit platter!" he exclaims. showing you guys, holding it like a prize. you laugh as Chris joins. "nobody wants a fruit platter Nick. come on, head towards the chips aisle." Matt says, walking past Nick grabbing him by the shirt lightly. Nick pouts jokingly. you hold in a laugh. you all follow along. you guys grabbed a few bags of chips and grabbed some candy, along with some cans of soda. Pepsi, Dr pepper, and Sprite.

Nick ended up paying for everything. “thank you for helping me carry these bags y/n. since these two couldn’t do it” Nick says in a sarcastic tone. “didn’t seem like you needed help.” Chris says as you giggle at the response. “yeah no problem Nick.” you say with a smile, putting the bags in the back seat, in between you and Chris. after the store, you guys finally start heading to the beach. it was already close to 1 p.m.

y/n's POV

the car ride wasn't mostly quiet. the only thing quiet was between me and Chris. usually, he's the one talking the most, being the loudest. but he was so glued to his screen not even looking at me. it's starting to worry me. I decided to tap him, but by the time he looks at me, the car stops and Matt says, "we're here!" I turned to look out the window, "oh wow. looks like we're late to our own party." I say looking at the group of people messing around. there was people dancing to music, people in the ocean, and a group of people just sitting around talking. i went to turn back to Chris but he already was in the middle of getting out the car. i sighed as i got out myself. Matt and Chris carried all the bags because they were told to by Nick since they didn’t help at the store. we all walk up to a free spot. i unfold the blanket from my tote bag and lay it out. Matt and Chris lay down the bags on top of it. “i’m going to go greet people!” Nick says with a big smile as he walks off with Matt. Chris looks at me, “you okay staying here?” he says. i nod with him nodding back walking away to a group. I stand there looking around as I see one of my friends come up to me. Grayson. he was tall and muscular. i'm not going to lie, I find him quite attractive but, it wasn't anything more. "hello y/n" he says flashing a smile at me. “hello grayson” i reply with a smile. we decided to talk while he passes me a drink. “what is this?” i ask swirling the cup looking into it. “beer” he responds. but before he answers i was in the middle of taking a sip. i swallowed making a bitter face. he takes the cup away from me, “okay not your thing i see.” he says letting out a chuckle.

we both laugh together as he asks me if i want to walk around. i nod and we stand side by side just chatting. “i never see you at these type of things.” he says. “well because it’s not my type of scene. i’m only here because of the triplets.” i respond with a smile. he smiles nodding, “oh yeah. you guys are pretty close.” “yup” i say.

Chris' POV

as I was talking to a group buddies from my lacrosse team, I couldn't help but catch something with my eyes. there she was. y/n talking to Grayson. usually it didn't bother me but with the thoughts i've been having? I couldn't help but feel something. I wasn't the jealous type or the possessive type. so this was new.

i continue to take glances at them talking. glances until in a second my eyes stayed on them longer as I see y/n take off her cover up and her shorts. I tense up poking my tongue to the inside of the side of my mouth. I couldn't even look at her because I was too busy looking at Grayson look at her up and down. it infuriated me. something inside of me almost walked over there but my thoughts were interrupted by one of my team mates, "you staring won't stop them from talking Chris." he says. I roll my eyes as I just continue to sip my drink as the rest of the team laughs.

Y/n's POV

"let's get in the ocean?" Grayson says while holding his hand out. I looked at his hand and then at the ocean. “uh i don’t know. i wasn’t really planning on it.” i say trying to make an excuse. I don't know how to swim. but I didn’t want to blurt that out there. I looked at Grayson and he responds, “come on. it’s better than standing around. plus you have a bathing suit on. clearly you were going to go in.” I grabbed his hand, “okay fine but only my feet.” i say with a smile. he smiles back as he drags me closer to the water.

Chris's POV

i put my drink down as I see y/n and Grayson walk towards the water. holding hands. was she trying to drive me insane? she probably doesn’t even know what she’s doing. i mean i have been trying to avoid her today. which was stupid of me because maybe if i just talked to her she would be holding my hand. not his. it was getting harder to keep my composure. why am i being like this?

End of Chris' POV

as you and Grayson make it to the water, you let out a small yelp when your feet submerges. it was freezing. Grayson lets out a small laugh when he sees your face. as you both stand there you spoke up, "it's really cold" you let out a nervous laugh. “there’s only one way to get rid of the cold.” he says. “which is what?” you respond curiously. “by getting all the way in with no thought!” he says. next thing you know, Grayson carries you by the waist and runs with you more towards the water. you let out a playful scream. which catches Chris' attention. you hit Grayson's arms softly asking him to let you down laughing. Chris had enough. Chris walks towards the both of you and shouts, "put her down!" you and Grayson whip your head around towards Chris standing there clearly bothered. "Chris?" you say as Grayson puts you down, "what's your problem?" you continue.

"does he know you can't swim?" he says. “well no he doesn’t.” you respond with a nervous laugh. “well i don’t want to be the one having to save you so…” holding his hand out, "come on." he says seriously. Grayson steps forward a bit, "dude she's just trying to have fun." he says but Chris ignores him waiting for you to grab his hand, "lets go y/n." Chris says. but before you say anything, Chris just grabs your arm pulling you away from the muscular boy walking the both of you away from everyone.

"Chris!" you yelp as you try to get out from his grip. "let go of me!" he listens and lets you go. he's avoiding eye contact. "what is your problem?!" you say in a frustrated tone. "you barely talk to me all morning and now you want to get in between me having fun?"

"fun?" he says with a scoff, "wouldn't have been fun if I were to run into the ocean saving you if his dumb ass continued to push you more in the deep end." you scoff, "that would've been my choice! i wouldn’t need your help." you say.

Chris' POV

she can't be serious. she's mad at me for just trying to be a good friend? even though my reason for dragging her away from the situation was just because it was making me angry staring at them. because it should’ve been me and her laughing and having fun.

"answer me Chris" she says, snapping me back into the moment. "look, the truth is I couldn't stand it. I couldn't take it anymore." I stepped closer to her, "I don't know what's happening.. but you did something to me. I don't fall easily and you know this. when you're not near, I get this sudden urge of yearn. when I saw you with him? I couldn't keep watching you waste your emotions on some stupid idiot who clearly doesn't know you. this is all new to me and i’m confused. confused why all of the sudden i feel like this. but it’s you! you are making me like this. so me seeing you with him? was enough for me.” I practically shout. my heart was beating fast. anticipating for her response. she looks away and lets out a small sigh but I decided to hold her cheek making her look into my eyes. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i was just trying to figure this all out.” i say.

"Chris..." she whispers putting her hand on my cheek as well. before she had the chance to say anything else, I pulled her in and kissed her softly but passionately. she wraps her arms around my neck kissing back. I pull away as I rub her cheek softly, “so what are you trying to say exactly Chris?” she says with a smile. all i could do was let out a nervous laugh and respond, “what i’m trying to say is… you’re my best friend and i love you. i love you more than just a best friend.” and next thing you know she jumps on me wrapping her legs and arms around me hugging me. she giggles, "i love you too Chris." she exclaims happily. I smile pulling her back in for another kiss. this is the happiest i've been. all the worries and fears left my body as soon as she laid all her love on me.

our kiss was interrupted by a familiar voice, "finally!" we pull away to see Nick shout. me and y/n looked at each other laughing as I kiss her again. feelings butterflies in my stomach. oh what have you done to me y/n?

a/n: if you get to the end where you can read this, thank you for taking the time to read! likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! leave a follow if you like my content! I will continue to upload more imagines and post random shit about the triplets. I can't wait to write more like this. make sure to check my master list. I will try to upload as much as I can! - L 🤍

[poppy-metal]

it's hot where i live and it has me thinking about beach days with young! art and patrick. specifically annoying friend! patrick. imagine going to the beach with them. them picking you up and their reactions to your bikini. barley covered up by the crocheted top you had on. peaking through is your white bikini top that shows off your chest more than they've seen before. patrick unashamedly checking out your ass as you bend over to throw your bag in. i just know art would be so flustered. his face flushed and nervously laughing as he tries not to check you out too obviously. annoying friend! patrick on the other does little to hide it. probably asks where you've "been hiding those". squirts sunscreen on you while making crude jokes - and, of course, you let art rub sunscreen on your back instead of patrick which leads to a very embarrassing boner on his part - and patrick will 100% try to untie your swimsuit. 

-☕

stop because friends with art and patrick where they're just starting to realize how fucking hot you are. maybe you've covered up more before, maybe you're in a girly phase you weren't in previously, maybe you're purposely trying to gain their attention in that way - either way they're both slackjawed at the sight of you. their eyes piercing your skin when you tug off your top and wriggle out of your shorts, the thin straps of your bikini hugging your curves. your tits nearly spilling out - your ass eating up your bottoms. arts face is a comical shade of red, blotchy and patricks flushed too but at least art is polite where patrick just flat out ribs you about it, "the fuck were you hiding those knockers?"

you're secretly pleased, though you roll your eyes and admonish him for being a pervert. in fact, you do alot of that for the rest of the day, deliberately flaunting your body but acting like its not a big deal. steadily driving them insane, even art starts to get twitchy about it.

when you undo your bikini straps and ask him to rub in sunscreen, with just your palms daintily cupping your tits to cover them - he bawks at you. his hands are trembling and nervous as they feather across your back and you moan, arching back into his touch with a sigh, "harder, art." he lasts all of about five minutes before he's scrambling up, like, "uh. gotta piss." bolting from you like a scared deer to find the nearest bathroom and lock himself in a stall, furiously shoving his hand down his trunks to pump his hard cock. moans sounding tortured as he beats himself raw replaying the way you'd said "harder." in his head on a loop.

with patrick you really push it, knowing he wont spook like art. when you're in the water, you lose your top - on purpose - squealing and pressing yourself against patricks broad back, feeling him freeze when his brain computes the bare skin on skin contact - your hard nipples pushed against him. you can feel his breath expand through his chest as he inhales and exhales and chokes out - "what - what, um. you're, uh -" you suppress a giggle at having made him flounder, "just walk back to shore. i need to cover up." keeping your bare tits pressed firmly against him the whole time.

you torture them more when you find a popsicle stand and buy one - moaning and drooling around the icy concoction as it drips down your wrist. they stare at you with their lips parted, almost looking miserable in their abject longing as you slurp loudly - pushing the icy dessert in and out of your mouth - bobbing your head. it gets all over your chest, your chin, and you giggle when you finish it off, "im so sticky." licking the stick clean after. somethings sticky, alright, both of them think.

its a long day - and when they're driving you home the ride is starkly quiet. you hum to fill the silence, wondering what they're thinking about to have them looking so broody.

[thebirdandthebee]

Act Accordingly

Dipping my toes into the Rooster pool here. Using the jealousy prompt “I don’t like them all looking at you.” No real smut, but allusions to it. Thanks for all the love on Aw Honey Honey! If you like this one, don’t keep it to yourself :)

Title: Act Accordingly Rooster just wants you to act accordingly. WC: 3596

There were few things more relaxing than knowing your classes were done for the week, homework all taken care of, and not a single worry in the world for the next three days.

Your situationship was hosting a barbecue on the beach and he’d asked you to come and help set up a few things behind his friend’s bar, which had direct access to the sand.

Tossing on your favorite bikini and a pair of denim cutoffs, you threw a change of clothes amongst other essentials in a tote and head off toward the bar. You’d been hooking up with Bradley Bradshaw on and off for about eight months – sure, it sounded like a long time, but sometimes he’d disappear for two or three weeks at a time, and you’d get caught up in classes for nursing school as well.

Besides, you didn’t mind, he was an incredible lay and seemingly wasn’t looking for anything serious, so you went along with it – no matter how many times you wished your cut-short mornings could have dragged out a bit longer. You also thought it was kind of cool he flew planes for the Navy and didn’t seem to care when you’d pepper him with questions. He actually seemed pretty happy to answer your questions – but that might have just been the post-orgasm haze.

You’d been to this bar before – Bradley’s Uncle’s girlfriend (?) owned it and you’d met in passing once before. She seemed cool and would sometimes comp your bill, so they were good in your book.

“Hey!” Bradley waved you down from the back deck of the bar. He jogged over and you let your gaze rake down his shirtless body.

“I see you decided to skip sunblock again,” you commented, tilting your sunglasses down to the tip of your nose to take in his rosy skin.

“Not on purpose,” he rubbed the back of his neck, taking your tote from your shoulder and opening it up to grab the spray bottle he knew was in there. “Tits look great,” he commented, eyes darting up to your crocheted bikini top. There was a thin layer of nude fabric beneath the knitting to preserve some decency.

“Likewise,” you grinned, reaching up to tweak one of his nipples. “Now what can I help with?” You asked, looking over at a few empty folding tables next to an equally empty grill.

“Table clothes, plates, napkins, all that shit,” he listed off. “Pen and Mav are bringing food out, but I picked up some fruit and veggie trays, too.”

“Put me to work,” you smiled, sliding your sunglasses back up your nose.

“Wait a minute,” he tugged your wrist as you attempted to broach the table. You found yourself pressed tightly up against Bradley’s front, his hands lodged deep into the back pockets of your denim shorts. “No kiss for Daddy?” He grinned, that dumb, hot mustache stretching across his lips. “Can’t believe you just called yourself Daddy out here in the open where Penny and Jesus can hear you,” you scolded, a laugh ripping from your throat as he squeezed your ass hard.

“Okay, break it up,” you jumped away from Bradley as his Uncle stepped out onto the deck with two big rolls of vinyl in his arms.

“Good to see ya, Pete,” you greeted, running a hand through your hair. “I see you haven’t trained this one up at all since I last saw you.”

“Unfortunately some things are just inherent,” he shrugged but smiled anyway. “Mind helping me with this table cover while we have wonder boy go grab some propane?” He asked, tossing Bradley a look. The younger of the two men shook his head before disappearing into the back of the bar through the sliding door.

“So, you meeting a bunch of Bradley’s friends?” Pete asked, in a way that you were sure he thought was casual.

“I guess,” you smiled, “see ‘em from time to time here and there,” you added. “It’s all casual, Pete,” you added. The older man look contemplative but smiled nonetheless. All it took was half a roll of duct tape to get the table covers to stay down before you could start piling on plates, cutlery and big metal buckets filled with ice for drinks.

You were rubbing down Bradley’s shoulders with sunblock when the first wave of people started arriving.

“I’m gonna go plant myself,” you said, jabbing your thumb over you shoulder. Penny had set up a few beach umbrellas about halfway down the sand and you could feel your towel calling your name.

Bradley nodded and you could feel his hand skim your waist with a ghostly touch as you turned to walk away. Grabbing a White Claw, you headed down the sand, oblivious to the conversations taking place on the back patio.

“Who is that?” Coyote asked, eyes narrowing in on your figure. He, Rooster and Fanboy all paused in admiration as you peeled your denim shorts down your legs, stretching slightly before laying out across your towel.

“She looks…” Fanboy licked his lips, “smart.”

“That one’s mine,” Rooster said with definition.

“Your girlfriend?” Fanboy asked his brows creeping up.

“Well, no, I mean – we’ve been… seeing each other – like unofficially, we’ve been – ” He stammered out.

“What you haven’t planted your flag?” Coyote grinned wolfishly.

“I’ve planted my flag,” Rooster cut sharply, eyes narrowing.

“Sure doesn’t sound like it, Rooster,” Fanboy laughed. “Which means… fair game.” All three men returned their eyes to the beach, where you were rolling over on your towel, breasts pressed closed together and fighting against the seams of your top.

“Hey fellas, what do you want to eat?” Pete said, once again breaking up the conversation as he held up a big tray of burgers and chicken.

Down on the beach, you were trying your best to wiggle into grooves that didn’t tweak your back after standing for clinicals all week. Settling with your hands folded behind your head, taking the full brunt of the sun’s rays, it was a matter of minutes until a shadow cast over you.

“Couple of us are going to play some volleyball,” Bradley was blocking the sun from shining directly in your face. “Want to join?” He offered.

“Deal me into the second game,” you said, “the sun feels so good,” you sighed. “I want to soak it up a little bit,” you insisted. Bradley nodded, his eyes, covered by his sunglasses, trailing down your form. He knew what your skin tasted like, but imagined it sweeter in the hot weather, causing saliva to pool in his mouth.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he insisted.

“Give me a holler when you’re losing,” you smirked. He didn’t know, after all, that you played DI in college. He balled up his Hawaiian shirt, tossing it over to land on your half-empty beach bag.

The game started up as more and more of Bradley’s friend filtered in, joining him only about forty feet away from your little camp site. As the sun passed peak in the sky, it was getting a little more bearable out. You couldn’t help but notice Bradley’s friends were overwhelmingly male and were, as expected, a little disappointed.

“Couldn’t help yourself?” Bradley asked as you approached. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat and you were sure his sunblock was already long gone.

“Just let me serve, Bradshaw,” you said, plucking the ball from his hands. Traipsing to the back corner of the court, you rocked back on your heel, delivering a devastating serve to the other side of the net. The other team didn’t have a prayer.

“It’s not fair! Rooster’s friend is a ringer!” A chiseled blonde called from the other team.

“It’s good to meet Bradley’s friend,” you looked over to see a hand extended to you. “Fanboy,” he introduced.

“Right,” you nodded, introducing yourself, “I forget about the code names,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

“Call signs,” another man with a lantern jaw and dark eyes interjected. “Coyote,” he added.

“Okay, okay, are we playing a game here?” Bradley asked, trying his best to keep a petulant scowl off of his face.

“Hey, we want to trade!” The only other woman in the group called out, “we’ll hand over Bob for Misty Mae-Treanor,” she added, making you laugh.

“Deal!” You called, jogging over to duck under the net.

“I’m Nat,” the woman introduced, “Bradley’s told us a lot about you,” she added. You blamed your blush on the sun. “This is Bagman,” she nodded to the blonde.

“Jake,” he cut in, “and Bradley’s told me nothing about you,” he grinned. You recognized this man from a few of Bradley’s post-work stories.

“Hangman, right?” You asked with a tilt of your head. His grin only widened.

Bradley was no better than any other man and it took every ounce of willpower within him to focus on the game as you countered him on the other side of the net. He wondered how strong that bikini top was, where your tan lines stopped and if you still had that little bruise just on the edge of your nipple where he’d bit you just a little too hard last week. It was okay - he made it up to you.

And God, you were really good at volleyball.

“Just take the L, Rooster!” Natasha, who you’d come to learn was called Phoenix, called out.

“Who’s hungry?” Pete called from up the beach. “Burgers are done!”

“Starving,” you said, jogging over to your towel, stepping into your denim shorts, shimmying to get them over the round of your ass.

“She’s single, right?” Phoenix asked.

“Who cares?” Hangman laughed, dutifully trailing after you as you walked alongside Bradley up the sand.

“How did you get invited to this again?” Bradley asked Jake, making your eyes go wide.

“Bradley!” You scolded, bumping shoulders with Jake, “that’s not very nice.”

“Yeah, that’s not very nice, Bradley,” Jake taunted. “Where you been hiding this one, huh? Afraid she’ll show you up at everything else you do?” He asked.

“Oh, yes, I remember you now,” you grinned. “Dagger Spare, right?” Jake slapped a hand over his chest, causing Bradley to shout out a honking laugh. Bradley was impressed by your memory, he wasn’t sure how much you were really retaining as most of your conversations took place on the periphery of sleep.

You’d all settled around a few tables, burgers, fries and all sorts of other snacks abound. You squeezed between Bradley and Natasha, who was more than happy to let you dip your carrot sticks into her too-big pool of veggie dip. You liked Natasha, she could hold her own amongst the group of knuckleheads and had already complimented your manicure.

You were listening to Fanboy and Coyote going back and forth on some sort of training story when you dropped a cold, white glob of ranch on your chest.

“Whoops,” you murmured, swiping your finger down across the swell of your breast before popping it in your mouth – not noticing that the conversation had come to a complete standstill. You also hadn’t noticed that your nipples had hardened in your top, rendering Coyote completely useless.

“SO,” Phoenix said loudly. “I’m grabbing more drinks from inside, who wants to help?” She asked.

“I’ll help,” you volunteered, pushing your seat back, but with how tightly the chairs were crammed together, there was no easy way to get out. Grabbing the armrest of Bradley’s chair, you hopped over his seat, planting your bare feet on the wood deck. “Taking your shoes,” you tossed over your shoulder, sliding your feet into one of the many pair of brown leather sandals lined up by the sliding door.

Unbeknownst to you, you’d grabbed Coyote’s sandals, but there was no way you could’ve known.

“Big feet!” You called, following Natasha inside. All eyes cut to Rooster when you and Phoenix had disappeared.

“Stop looking!” He said, frustrated.

“What am I supposed to pluck my eyes out?” Coyote asked, gesturing wildly, “they looked at me first!” Hangman shook his head with silent laughter. Bradley really wanted to laugh, too, and he probably would have if it was anyone else that brought their girl around – because that’s what he was trying to do – make you his girl. And he certainly didn’t like all the attention you were drawing from everyone else.

“I mean it, stop flirting with my girl,” he said pointedly, his attention snapping over to Hangman who simply shrugged with a flick of his toothpick.

“I’ll stop flirting,” Hangman drawled, “when she says she’s your girl.”

Bradley blanched. Sure, he was crazy about you, but you’d agreed on casual – even when his feelings developed into something deeper.

He loved ending up at your place after weeks away – laying around your living room, sharing boxes of takeout as he helped you study for the NCLEX. He’d been your patient, sitting for cast wrappings and vital tests, and he knew the exact location of your birthmark, right inside of your thigh. He liked to think of it as the doorbell to get to exactly where he’d like to go.

“Fine,” he rolled his shoulders, taking a bite of his dinner. He only settled when you and Phoenix returned with fresh drinks – holding your hand for balance as you maneuvered your way back into your seat.

“So,” Fanboy grinned, “how long have you two known each other?” He asked.

“Like biblically?” You replied, making Natasha cough on her drink. Rooster’s blush burned bright on his scarred cheek. “Hmm, I think eight months?” You asked, folding your sunglasses into the pocket of his shirt.

“Sounds right,” Bradley nodded.

“And how long have you –”

“Fanboy, you ever get those mystery stains out of the common room futon?” Natasha interjected. Fanboy paled and took a sip of his drink.

“So who here can tell me the coolest flight story?” You asked, “I’ve heard all of Bradley’s a hundred times and I want to hear something new.” You gave your friend a little grin.

“Look no further,” Jake replied, launching into a list of his own accomplishments.

The next time you excused yourself to head inside and use the restroom, you were cornered by Bradley in the back hall.

“Hi,” you said with surprise, having just tied your hair up into a loose bun atop your head. To Bradley, your neck never looked more kissable.

“Put this on,” he said, holding open his button-up shirt.

“Why?” You asked, sliding your arms through the short sleeves anyway.

“Because I’m not trying to pop a chubby in front of my friends,” he said as if it was obvious. “Where’d you find this swimsuit anyway?” You laughed, but clocked the look in his eyes nonetheless.

“Why are you so bothered?” You asked, leaning back against the wall, shirt unbuttoned.

“I don’t like them all looking at you,” he said, pressing you up against the wall hips-first.

“You don’t like them looking at me?” You asked with a small smile, “then maybe you shouldn’t have invited me to your party,” you added.

“Let me be clear,” he pushed his body into yours with more intent. “I don’t like them looking at you like you’re up for grabs,” there was a darker tone to his words and he chose them very carefully.

“And who do I belong to, Bradley?” You asked, looking up at him through those thick lashes with a glint that made sweat bead at the base of his spine. It was usually a look he only saw before you swallowed his cock whole.

“You’re mine,” he tucked a piece of hair back behind your ear, “and it’s about time we both start acting accordingly.”

“What happened to casual?” You asked, reaching up to tuck your thumb into the cleft of his chin, focusing his attention solely on you. “I haven’t wanted casual with you since the day I memorized thirty gastrointestinal disease flashcards with you,” he said honestly.

“That’s what did it for you, huh?” You grinned, “all that talk of stomach ulcers got you hard for me?”

“Actually I think it was after you passed your test the next day and I bent you over the patio railing,” he recalled, “Yeah, I think that’s what did it for me.”

“Should’ve said something you big lug,” you chastised.

“I should have,” he nodded, hands on your waist, thumbs swiping across you ribcage. “I knew for a while but it took my friends eyeing up these titties like they were the cure before it drove me a little nuts.” He mumbled, making you giggle.

“Maybe they are the cure,” you shrugged, “you think I wore this by accident?”

“The cure is between your thighs, and I need to be saved,” he said, ducking down to kiss you firmly. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?”

“Ditch your own party?” You asked, smiling nonetheless. “Kinda tacky.”

“Says the girl in the Hawaiian shirt,” he countered.

“Touché,” you nodded. “Tell them we’re out and I’ll meet you at the car?” You offered.

“Actually,” Bradley sucked in a breath, “I need you to tell them we’re out,” he recalled Hangman’s comment. You rocked forward, pressing your lips to his once more.

“Okay fine, but when we get back to my place - I get to be pillow princess,” you said pointedly.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grinned, and you couldn’t resist that stupid mustache, kissing him again. You pulled Bradley by the hand across the bar to the back door again, where Pete and Penny had decided to join the group as the sun went down.

“Sorry to say, it’s time for us to leave,” you announced, sliding your feet back into your own shoes. “But Bradley just recently found his ball sack and we’re together now – so we’ve got business to attend to.” Bradley narrowly escaped the shower of crudité that came flying his way and he parade-waved his way off the patio. “Penny, please bill Bradley for a cleanup!” you called, just before he could sweep an arm under your knees, lifting you from the ground. “He’s actually quite a good cleaner!”

You laughed as he deposited you right into the passenger seat of the Bronco.

“How was that?” You asked, “definitive enough for your friends?”

“Pretty good,” he nodded, bracing his arms against the top of the car, leaning into your personal space. “Better than what I had planned.”

“And what were your big declarations going to be?” You asked.

“Sorry to eat and run – but I gotta run and eat,” he growled, pressing his lips against yours in a hot kiss.

Your scream of laughter carried across the breeze to the back patio, where Pete had just clinked his beer bottle against Fanboy’s.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Aw Honey Honey, you might also like Mighty Fine! This work is 18+

[a-d-nox]

wyrd web: what to gift a person based these three numbers

this is just a theory of mine because these bubbles of the matrix should represent earthly desires. this is not to say that you can't enjoy things not listed in your category / under your energetic number. this is simply what i believe people with these numbers would enjoy receiving as a gift.

1 - the magician

flowers / garden seeds, gear for their passion project(s), business/self-help books, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, art supplies, things that are homemade/artisanal, careof for brain support, things for their computer or car, a diary or journal (moleskine), sunglasses or blue-light glasses, joke books (for the dads with 1 placements here), paid classes, rosetta stone subscription, genetic tests (ancestry.com or 23&me), manicure/pedicure voucher, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, mittens / fingerless gloves, house plant, sewing/knitting/crocheting supplies, stationary, or tickets to a concert

2 - the high priestess

things that support their spiritual practices, things that support feminine health (hum women's probiotics bundle, honey pot oral vaginal care probiotic, etc), bake goods / baking gear, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads pt 2), bar in a jar (for those of drinking age) or really any beverage tester kit, bath/spa kit, beach vacation, boat, cruise, careof for brain support, truly nice melons boob butter, candles (it doesn't have to be yankee candle either - bent candles, spiced votive candle, etc) or candle making kit, imported cheeses, clothing staples (blue jeans, black turtleneck, etc), juice cleanse or other things that support digestive health, cooking classes or meal kits (hellofresh, homechef, etc), a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, or outdoor cameras or other home security tools

3 - the empress

pillows, stuffed animals, rose quartz, personal celebrity cameo, clothing, tickets for an art museum tour, ballet tickets or classes, art supplies, makeup pallets and/or brushes, flowers, jewelry, candy/sweets, money, bells / wind chimes, clothing, designer pieces, cosmetics, dolls, a trip to a fancy restaurant, fruit basket / dried fruits, gardening supplies, jewelry, concert/orchestra tickets, poetry book, tickets to a play, a purse, lingerie (if y'all are close like that), trip to a vineyard (for those of drinking age), couples' dancing classes, or a wallet

4 - the emperor

skincare, rock climbing voucher or some other physical activity they enjoy, an adrenaline rush activity (skydiving, bungee jumping, etc), careof for brain support, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), coffee trials/samplers, sunglasses, blue light glasses, hair care products/supplies, scalp treatments/care, oral health care (thera breath, whitening products, etc), meditation app subscriptions / in person sessions for meditation, or a planner

5 - the hierophant

moss agate (don't question how random that sounds this is some intuitive stuff), artwork, an architectural tour, beauty products/supplies, historically significant objects, pastries or sweets/candies, earrings, sour dough starter kit, jewelry in general, piano/organ lessons, singing lessons, a wallet, or any classes where they can learn something fun and new to them

6 - the lovers

car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), bicycle or bicycle accessories/gear, books (the more educational the better), briefcase / work tote, bus tickets for a day trip, gym membership or soulcycle classes, crystals, a standing desk / cute office supplies (for the work girlies both those who work in office and from home), hand & foot message, manicure voucher, newspaper subscription (i am a fan of new york times, washington post, and the new yorker), language classes or rosetta stone subscription, magazines subscription, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, train trip, or we're not really strangers card packs

7 - the chariot

gardening supplies, hermit crab, baked goods, bath products / beauty products, boat, cruise, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), truly nice melons boob butter, juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, glassware / blown glass, stuff they need / need for their home (security system, chest freezer, etc), hotel or bed & breakfast stay, kitchenware, lake trip, pearls, real estate / land, restaurant voucher / gift card, silver jewelry, shopping gift cards, a trip, or intention journal

8 - strength

amusement park tickets, supplies for their passion projects, ballroom dancing classes, tea sampler, games (video games or board games), movie theater gift card, personal celebrity cameo, flower garden supplies/seeds, stuff for their pet, or a belt

9 - the hermit

pet related gifts (if they have a pet that is), bookshelves (they probably need one), juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, a cat, clothing, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), stationary, emergency preparedness (ready to eat meals, fire blanket, etc), cook books, dining ware (new plates/bowls, cups / glassware, silverware, etc), food subscriptions (home chef, hello fresh, pickle of the month club, bokksu japanese snack box, etc), careof subscription, gloves, herb garden kit, a one way ticket to anywhere, or a hiking trip

10 - wheel of fortune

incense, cleansing herbs, bow and arrow, sapling, land, dried berries, budget book, gym/exercise membership, religious/spiritual/philosophical books, poker set, cloth (if they like sowing), wool (if they like weaving, crocheting, and/or knitting), wool clothing, a coat, trip to a country or place they have never been, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), etiquette classes/books (this is great for the traveler because they are often interested in learning customs before going on their trip), figs, fruit basket (like edible arrangements), honey sampler / royal jelly, horseback riding lessons, lottery tickets, merchandise from their favorite singer / group/ tv show / movie, shoes, really any game, any subscription they have not tried, things that support their spiritual practices, or book on positive mindset

11 - justice

personal celebrity cameo, tickets to a ballet or to an art gallery, air purifier, portable heating pad, spa voucher, cosmetics, lingerie (if y'all are close), closet organizational items (space saving hangers, linen bins, accessory hanger, etc), pastries and sweets, diamonds (perhaps propose to your lover), a dress, tickets to a fashion show or exhibit, flowers, a luxury chair, jewelry, concert tickets, poetry books, any quartz pieces, chocolates dipped strawberries, hair extensions, logic puzzles, a voucher for an escape room, or a kitchen/baking scale

12 - the hanged man

bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), a book on angel numbers, a book on natural medical remedies, ballet classes or tickets to see a ballet, bath bombs and other bath goodies (salt, bath table, candles, sugar scrub, bath teas, etc), beach vacation, tea or coffee sampler, butterfly farm kit with caterpillars, disposable camera or a camera they would like (polaroid, filming, etc), scientific kits (geode kit, grow your own crystals, etc), cigars (for the dads in your life), unsolved mysteries or crime kit, dance classes, smutty/romance/fantasy books, fairy garden, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, budget book, makeup palettes or other cosmetic they enjoy, concert tickets, paint, poetry books, clue the board game, a pass to an indoor pool, a book on poppet making, meditation membership or a voucher for in-person sessions, or something to support their curiosity for new spiritual insight

13 - death

hermit crab, a jumping spider, a reptile, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, operation the game, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, beginners chemistry kit, a colon cleanse, sea monkeys, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, philosophy of death books, books on magic, magic the gathering the card game, period products (portable heating pad, the diva cup, etc), poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), a frog pond, a scorpion, a snake, a burr/boo basket (these people love seasonal stuff), or marie kondo's life changing magic of tidying up

14 - temperance

a hunting trip, bow and arrows, books on religion or philosophy, book of devotions, book on dream meanings (hello, freud haha), a certification course or college class, horseback riding lessons (for the newbie or a younger sibling or your child/niece/nephew), horse drawn carriage ride (for the couples *smirk*), logic puzzles, things that support their goals, or a book of angel number meanings

15 - the devil

a fan or air conditioning unit, if you have the land for it a cow/horse/goat, kinetic tape, arnicare bruise cream (this is a joke... unless...), coal or a diamond (this is also a joke... unless...), a clock or a watch, cuticle trimmer (and other nail care things), room darkening curtains, a happy lamp, lotion/cream, hat/scarf/gloves, hair products (extensions, shampoo subscription, etc), leather fashion-ware, gardening supplies, ice maker, or a juice cleanse

16 - the tower

tiger balm or other pain relieving ointment, acrobatic/gymnastic classes, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, first-aid kit, baking kits, barbecue sauce sampler, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads), gift card for haircut, dollar shave club (for the dads pt 2), metal works (spoon handle rings, metal roses, etc), boxing lessons, boxing match tickets or monster truck tickets, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), cactus plant, beginners chemistry kit, cookbook, pocket knife or leatherman/multitool, tool kit, jenga, emergency kit, food, first aid kit, merchandise for their favorite superhero(es), electric lighter, liqour or bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), rock music (a vinyl or concert tickets), pepper plant, pipe for smoking (if they like to smoke that is - my grandfather had a collection), lego kit, or lincoln logs

17 - the star

friendship bracelets, a fan / ac unit, model airplane, flight lessons, compression stockings/socks, architectural tour, astrology reading, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), electronic devices (a new phone, amazon fire stick, solar portable charger, etc), movie on blue-ray or dvd, movie gift card, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, shadow work journal, aesthetically pleasing bluetooth retro radio, streaming service subscription, a book on health or mental health, or a book on positivity

18 - the moon

abstract art, bar in a jar (if they are of legal age), a fish, a fish tank, tickets to an aquarium, cocktail book (if they are of legal age), a fishing trip (for the dads), book of conspiracy theories, the conspiracy theory map, a crystal ball, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, a jellyfish, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, poetry book, hydroponic starter system, games that involve bluffing (clue, poker, herd mentality, etc), shoes, sleeping eye mask, silk pillow cases, new bed sheets, bonnet, socks, a computer keyboard, typewriter, a book on shadow work, a puppy, or a book on dream meanings

19 - the sun

maine coon, autobiographical books, ballroom dancing lessons, poker set, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), card games, personal celebrity cameo, circus fruit basket, chocolate gold coins, classes that encourage creativity (create it and break it sessions, pottery classes, etc), jewelry or an engagement ring (if it's been more than 2 years y'all should know what you are doing at this point), flowers, indoor herb garden, tickets to race of some sort (cars, horse, sporting events, etc), sporting equipment, ivy plant, a pottery painting voucher / gift certificate, or something for their passion project / hobby

20 - judgment

a reptile, ant farm, a guide on astral projection, operation the game, the chameleon game, clue game, unsolved case files game, grand theft auto video game, assassins creed video game, dungeons and dragons the game, yahtzee, emergency preparedness kit, magician kit, poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), the divine comedy, puzzles, a rodent of some sort, or lingerie (if y'all are close)

21 - the world

gardening supplies, acoustic guitar, air conditioning or fan, architectural tour, teddy bear, snow globe, boots, calendar or planner, supergoop (sun protectant) products, wooden objects (cutting board, chest, box, etc), carpet, clay (air drying or via kiln), a clock or watch, compression stockings/socks, collectible coins, pain patches or kinetic tape, crystals, budget book, lotions for dry skin, dried fruits, gloves/mittens, hair care products, ice machine or ice making trays, ice cream subscription, pottery classes, rain coat, real estate or land, zen sand garden, sculpture, or snake

22 - the fool

flight lessons, model airplane, a flight to anywhere, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), an astrology reading, bath products, biking gear, movie theatre gift card, clock or watch, club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), mood lighting or strip lights, a train ride, fun magnets, motorcycle accessories/training, microphone (maybe they are filming or recording something), patterns for cross stitch / knitting / crocheting, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, stuff for the tv (surround sound, sound bar, streaming subscription, etc), or classes for one of their interests

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[wrightingdungeon]

SDV Bachelors seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time Pt1

AFAB Farmer

Alex: Alex had been so used to seeing you in skirts, long sleeves, and hijab-covered modestly that it made him double-take when you said you'd like to join him on the beach. He had no idea what your hair looked like, and the idea of seeing you go from modest to a swimsuit made him blush. When he saw you approach him covered head to ankle he blinked slowly having no idea what you were wearing. “It's a burkini! You like it?” You asked posing quickly. You wore a vibrant burkini with a blue base adorned with white and brown leopard spots. The long-sleeved top provided full coverage with a modest neckline, and the matching leggings were a change from the skirts he was used to seeing, but you stood confident and elegant as you always had. “Yeah, it's adorable, it suits you well.”

Elliot: Sitting on the shore he looked out to the ocean hoping the crashing sounds of the waves would help him with his writer's block, maybe the waves would wash away the fog like they eroded the beach line. “What ya doing Elliot?” Hearing you behind him he looked up smiling seeing you holding a beach bag, wearing a light pink bikini set. The top features a halter neckline holding snugly to your upper body. The bottom consists of a skirted bikini with a side slit, adding a playful and feminine touch, It looked like one of Emily's crochet projects. “Just trying to work on my book, and you?” He asked leaning back onto his palms and relaxing at your arrival. “Taking time to myself looks like you need to do the same.” Elliot laughed not able to disagree with you at that observation.

Harvey: He was busy applying sunscreen and ensuring his sun hat was well-adjusted ready to enjoy a day off, he hadn't heard you sneaking up in the sand. “Hey, Harvey! Taking a day off?” He nearly fell out of his chair, crushing the brim of his hat a bit from gripping it tightly. “Oh hi Farmer, yes I-” His voice got caught in his throat as he turned to look at you, dressed in a light peach one-piece swimsuit adorned with bright and light orange flowers, complemented by small green leaves. The neckline plunges to the solar plexus and is accentuated with delicate ruffles. The thick straps holding your shoulders firm ensure the top doesn't slip more than desired. “Getting sunburned already Doc?” Hearing you teasing him made him realize how warm his cheeks felt.

Sam: Sam groaned watching Vincent play in the water, he loved his brother but wanted to go into town with Sebastian and Abigail, not babysit his brother. “This blows man…” he leaned his head over letting out a sigh. “I think the sun feels rather good.” Looking up he smiled hearing your familiar voice, his eyes looked over your swimsuit taking in the high-waisted bottoms and halter top it was a cute little vintage number, the white with bright yellow lemons and green leaves looked playful and cheerful. “Got stuck babysitting?” you teased, smirking softly already knowing the answer. “Yeah..” He said his voice trailing off, seeing your hand in front of his face he looked up at you. “Well let's go get in the water, mopey pants.” You said pulling him up and dragging him to join his little brother.

Sebastian: You had offered to teach him to surf if he taught you how to ride a motorcycle. “You want me to dress like a traffic cone?” Looking at the neon Orange wet suit you had given him, he looked back up and saw you wearing an identical one, its long sleeves hugged your arms, the bikini-style bottom contrasting against your skin. “Hey if you get swept out to sea you can be found ten times easier than wearing black.” You said informing him of how to be safe in the water. “Fine but you have to wear a safety vest next time we ride my bike.” He groaned turning to go and change into the neon wetsuit. “Hey! If it means I get saved faster Gladly!.” He chuckled hearing your quip as he shut himself in the changing room.

Shane: He leaned his head back smiling softly feeling the warm sun on his skin, he heard giggles coming from Jas. Peeking an eye open he smiled seeing you were leaning over talking to Jas whispering about something. He chuckled softly at your swimsuit, a wife pleaser for a shirt, your black bikini top showing slightly against the white, your black swim shorts mid-length, extending to just above the knee it wasn't flashy but it was you. Closing his eyes he smiled knowing he could take a nap with you being there. Feeling warm sand get poured on him and hearing Jas’s high-pitched giggles he opened his eyes seeing the two of you quickly trying to bury him in the sand.

[laiiaaa]

NICE TO MEET YOU — JJ MAYBANK (PROLOGUE)

summary: For much of his teenaged life, JJ has had it easy when it comes to charm. You turn out to be a formidable opponent.

length: 2.7k

contains: uhhh drinking beer?? (gross tbh!), actually pretty PG, warning for JJ being a whiny little brat and a little mean to his friends and a bit of a dork (it's painful but we love him...maybe), NOT proofread ok be nice

masterlist | next

“JJ, are you gonna go up to her? Or just keep staring at her like a creep?”

He almost doesn’t hear Kiara, and maybe he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for John B hitting him in the back of the head. 

“Ah—what the fuck, man?” JJ bats John B away before answering to Kie. “I’m not staring. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” He takes another sip from his beer and puts his weight on his free hand. 

This isn’t his usual routine—there’s a certain thrum in his veins that tells him tonight has a little more weight to it than he’s used to. His usual routine, of course, is simple: go to kegger, find a touron, flirt with her, engage in some…precarious activities, bid farewell when morning comes (or, if he gets lucky, before dawn). There’s never been any issue. It’s fun, he’s young, he’s a good-looking guy, all parties are willing.

But now you have caught his eye, and he’s not sure if this routine will be able to keep up.

“I think you do,” Sarah insists. “We all know you’re checking her out.” His face stays blank, so she pushes him further. “Come on, JJ. With the crochet bikini top and the red converse?”

“They’re brown, actually—”

“Oh, so you are staring. Got it.”

The rest of the group laughs at JJ’s expense, and he has to admit he did walk right into it. He’s just…off his game. 

He shoots up from his seat anyway, downing the last of his beer in an attempt to build up some courage. “I’m gonna go up to her.”

Pope raises his brows. “Right now?”

The blonde jumps, shakes out his limbs, gets the blood flowing. “Right now.”

“Oh,” Kie quips.

He points back at her, still psyching himself up. “Shut up, Kie, you started this.”

She lifts her hands up defensively, and John B jumps in again. “You gonna start walking over there, or…?”

JJ turns his head, eyes you sitting alone on a piece of driftwood. “Yep. Gonna do that now.” Another couple jumps and a shake of his head for good measure. A deep, exaggerated breath. He points to Kie and says, “Fuck you,” then Sarah, “Fuck you,” then John B, “And fuck you,” though there’s no real malice in his words. He starts taking hastened steps backwards, and lends a quick wave as he calls out, “Love you, Pope!” 

If the pogues say anything in response, he doesn’t hear them.

A breeze casts through his hair as he walks over to you, and his nerves are on the rise again. It takes twenty paces before he’s seriously regretting this gusto, another five before he considers turning around, a painful ten more, until he’s close enough to be officially approaching you and it’s too late. His pulse is pounding in his ears. You’re wearing a crochet bikini top as Sarah described, loose lightwash shorts covering the bottom half of the set, and have brown converse on, as he thought. There’s a glow to your skin that makes him think you came straight from the beach.

You pay him no mind until he’s looking over you, five feet away. “Hi.”

Are you talking to him? (Yes, you are—you’re looking straight at him.) 

“Hey,” he answers, gesturing to your makeshift seat. “Can I sit?” He’s more antsy now that he’s getting a close up view. He runs a hand through his hair to at least do something to hide it.

“Be my guest.” You move to the side and tap the space next to you, looking up and giving him a smile he could die for.

It takes him a second to process he’s gotten this far. “Thanks,” he says. When he does sit down, his knee nearly brushes past yours.

“And what brings you to this side of the party?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs—lie. “You seemed…uh, interesting?” As soon as the words come out they leave a bad taste in his mouth. Since when is he so bad at this?

“Interesting? Jeez,” you laugh, “And here I was thinking I had a cute boy approach me to flirt.” You brush your hair out of your face, looking off to the ocean as a distraction. The sun has long since set, but there’s still a twilight glow to the sky.

“Wait, wait—that’s not what I meant.” He shifts his body to face you, a hand hovering by your knee as if he needs that physical connection to make you hear him. “It came out wrong. I’ve just never seen you around, y’know?”

“I guess we have that in common, huh?”

He’s sure he’s already fucked this up, and he can’t help but curse himself for it. Hidden somewhere—maybe in your snarky tone, or your emerging smirk, he also thinks there’s a chance. “Yeah,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.” He has to shoot a look over to his friends, who are oh so attentive to this initial meeting. It would be too embarrassing to return so soon. “Did I fuck this up already? Should I leave?”

It’s your turn to observe him, now. The pensive look on his face, the fidgety hands, the toned arms. What’s the worst that could happen? “No, you can stay. We can start over if you’d like.” 

He nods his head, his muscles relax. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you agree, offering him your hand and your name.

“JJ,” he offers you in return, taking your hand in his for a respectable shake. This could work, he thinks. 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile and let go of his hand. He’s cute, you think.

“Nice to meet you, too.” His hand still buzzes even after touching you. “Do you live on the island?” Please say yes, please say yes. 

“Only in the summers I do. My grandparents’ house. I’m guessing you do, though?”

A piece of his heart drops, but not entirely. “Yeah—how’d you know?”

“It’s not the type of question someone asks if they’re only here for vacation; they usually just assume your stay is temporary too.” You shrug. “Just my experience.”

“Huh.” He nods his head as if you’ve bestowed upon him a revelation. “How long’ve you been coming here, then?”

“Oh, I can’t even remember. Maybe since I was five?”

“Really.” He can’t fight off the smile that emerges, and he doesn’t even know why. This isn’t any extraordinary conversation, this isn’t something he hasn’t done before, yet he’s more nervous than he’s ever been talking to a girl. “Where at?”

You smirk, instinctively turning your body towards him the slightest bit. Much like when he first sat down, your knees almost touch. “Not far from here, two miles tops, on the water. Why, you wanna stalk me or something?”

He smiles back at you. “No—”

“Really? Even though I’m interesting?” You start to think you’ll never get tired of teasing this boy, especially if it means seeing that smile and the dimple that follows.

He turns away and ducks his head down, hiding his embarrassment. “I thought you said we could start over?”

You make a thoughtful face as if you were mulling over his words, and you can feel his gaze on you. “I did say that, didn’t I? Hm, guess I forgot.”

“Guess so,” he agrees, leaning back and putting his weight into his arms. 

“Your turn to make it even.” You push lightly against his shoulder as you jest. God, those arms. “Where can I stalk you?”

“Uh…” He laughs to himself, embarrassment more genuine this time. His eyes shoot up to the sky to avoid yours. How much should he tell? “You, uh…you don’t want to know that.” And that’s already more than enough. He doesn’t do this—he shouldn’t, really. He knows that this is how bad decisions start, and from there comes even worse consequences.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” 

No answer. Sure, he’s had his share of girls over at The Chateau, but being poor isn’t necessarily something you throw at the nearest girl you’ve got your eye on. Especially, he thinks, not one with a smile like yours.

Your voice goes a bit softer, still curious. “Are you on The Cut?” You lean a little closer, dropping your head on the shoulder closest to him, nearly on his own. He smells of beer and the beach and a bit of amber. 

When he turns to face you, he’s not even six inches from kissing you. His jaw goes slack as he thinks over your question—which seems like the millionth of the night, and he’s sure he’d take a million more if time would allow—and his eyes work their way around your face, trying to burn it into his memory. If he tells you the truth, you might go, but he’s got a strong feeling that you’d find out about a lie. 

“I know we don’t even know each other,” you start, taking in a breath that seems to justify gazing at his lips for a little too long for only having met minutes ago, “But I’d hope you wouldn’t pin me as the type to judge.”

He scoffs, turning again to avoid the feeling in his gut when you hold eye contact—like you can read from him things he doesn’t know himself. “I didn’t pin you as anything, princess.” There’s an edge to his voice he doesn’t really mean, some spite in the name princess, and he curses himself again. This shouldn’t be so hard.

Before you give him a quip, you turn your eye to a group of teens, two boys and two girls, who seem to be watching you and JJ. They look at you, then to each other, point here and there, then giggle. You figure they notice your attention, because soon enough they’ve already stopped, instead stifling laughter amongst themselves. 

“JJ, I know I just said I’m not the type to judge, but I really hope those aren’t your friends over there watching us.”

This time, his heart does drop entirely. Is this a fucking joke? His first thought is that you're mistaking some nosy tourons for his flock, but lo and behold, those terrible four are his friends, and he sees for himself their scheming. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbles to himself. He gives you a sympathetic look, aware of how this might appear. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why they—they’re just really annoying sometimes.” He pauses his rambling for a moment to flip them off. “I know this looks bad, I get that—”

“Oh, it does,” you add, fueling the fire that is his panic. 

But then you’re laughing, joking about how panicked he looks, and he has another million questions to ask because why are you laughing when he looks like a fucking douchebag right now?

“I don’t really care, though, if it makes you feel better.” You lend him a smile as you check your watch. “I should be heading home, anyway.”

Fuck. “Why?” He knows how desperate he sounds, but he only just met you, and he’s already made a fool of himself. Twice.

You press your hands to your knees as you sit up. “It’s late, and I’ve got a curfew I already missed.” He’s wearing a pleasing look as you peer down on him, his hand wavering out to grab yours. “It was nice to meet you. Tell your friends I say hi.”

Why couldn’t he have talked to you earlier? He doesn’t think so much before doing it—he jolts up from his seat and grabs your hand, gently. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck am I doing right now? “Can I at least get your number?”

You take a few steps back, testing his reach and his adamance to keep you tethered for more. This could be fun. “No,” you chirp. “I don’t give my number to strangers.” You slip your hand from his and turn around, feet digging into soft sand as you make your escape, though you’re coy enough to give him a half-turn and a barely-there wave.

You’re ten paces away when he finally comes to his senses. “What if I want to see you again?” he calls after you, trying to make himself heard over the commotion (oh, how stupid it all is to him now) and the music playing (nobody wants to hear that, anyway). He feels a force gluing him in place, like you’ll disappear if he follows.

“You’ll figure it out!” you shout back over your shoulder. You pick up your pace, leaving JJ with nothing more than a silhouette to seek and a name to your face.

He’s stuck in place, mouth open as if he were to plead for you to come back. In his hand he swears he can still feel your touch, or the electricity you left behind, at least. He pictures how close you were, how he could’ve taken your lips in his, how he could’ve cradled your jaw in his hands and made him yours for that moment.

What the fuck just happened? What is he doing?

He quickly snaps out of this daze. He had your attention for—what, five minutes? Ten if he’s generous? This isn’t like him, to be caught up on another one getting away. That’s all it was: another one. He’s sure that he’ll find another girl another night, and he’ll forget whatever this was. Was—past tense, a good old friend. 

Running a hand through his hair, he takes in the breeze again before turning back to the pogues. There’s levity in his steps, his previous anxiety gone. He figures this is a good thing, in fact—he doesn’t need his summer marred by a relationship that isn’t even meant to be.

As JJ walks closer, Pope makes a face at him, lifting his hands by his shoulders in confusion. “What happened over there?”

JJ shrugs, offers little unrest. “Nothing, man. Talked her up a bit…” He trails off, casting an over the shoulder glance to your former location.

“And…?” Sarah continues.

Kie sips her beer and smiles to herself. “We tried to see what was happening—”

“Yeah, well that much was obvious—” JJ snaps, huffing as he sits next to Pope for being the least offensive of the bunch— “She saw you guys.” He snatches up a rock by his feet and turns it in his hands.

The group knows better than to push him when he’s like this—not when they want to enjoy the rest of the night, at least. John B, Sarah, and Kie resume their conversation about some touron group they'd witnessed earlier, and JJ finds himself filled with disinterest at the thought of listening, even on its periphery. He throws the stone back into the sand and takes a helping of beer when Pope offers it.

There’s an elbow nudging his side, followed by Pope’s voice. “You alright?”

He shrugs, makes a sour face. “Yeah, she was cool, ‘s all.”

Pope’s brows twist in confusion. “That girl you met?” He waits for the other to nod his head. “You get her name at least?”

JJ nods again. “Not like I’ll see her again. She said she’s been here every summer since she was little, and it was only now that I saw her.”

“So?” He pats JJ’s back, hard enough to hopefully knock some sense into him. “You wanna see her again, right?”

He takes a sip, shrugging again. “Not really.” Another sip, a glance to and fro. 

“I mean, odds are that you will eventually run into her, might as well be expecting it.”

He scoffs, lending Pope a smile to show his incredulity. “Odds are, I won’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way.” He tilts his head back with his cup against his lip, downing the last of his beer and the taste of a fib. Or two. Or three.

JJ accepts that he drew the short straw for the night. All he has left of you is a name and a face and a feeling, and if he knew better, he wouldn’t press his luck. Because truthfully, the odds don't seem to be in his favor.

[dulc3vida]

puppy!reader

girl next door, mom owns a bakery with heyward level success (doing alright, but not as successful as the wreck). her house was always the spot for the pogues growing up bc her mom always fed them and looked out for them. her mom is a curandera (folk healer) and always has someone in the house picking up some remedy she concocted or getting their stomach massaged to help digestion. during the summer, pup is on the beach with her lil cart selling cups of fruit and she also offers palm readings on the side.

john b is puppys best pairing bc they're both such lovers. like pup just oozes affection, its in her name. all of pups friends expect a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a "i haven't seen you in sooooo long" when really its been a few hours. she greets john b with a million kisses all over his face and he eats that shit up every time. john b loves a lazy sunday with her where he can share the hammock with her head on his chest, listening to her read his palm.

"tell me again, whats that one mean?"

"that's your lifeline." she traces her finger over the line on his hand. "it's deep and long which means you're gonna live a long life." she unknowingly soothes john bs anxiety over an untimely death. (lets be real, that boy doesn't see himself making it to 30).

they also make a good match bc they balance each others energies. john b grew up around masculine energy so being around you was his only time to be soft and you didn't know your dad so you benefited from the stability of john bs friendship your whole life.

our resident woo woo girl is always going on and on about the power of the tongue. pope could be giving some real ass advice about the stupid shit they're gonna do and she disregards most of it because it's pessimistic.

"all i'm saying is that your positive affirmations aren't gonna keep the cops from recognizing our faces on cameras and arresting our asses. i mean we let jj plan this, he's gonna get himself shot." pope is looking at this mission from every angle, trying to cover everyones asses.

pup rolls her eyes. "and all I'M saying is that you're being really negative right now. if you keep speaking 'we're not gonna make it and jj is gonna get shot' into the universe, then we're not gonna make it and jj will get shot-"

"you speaking that shit into the universe pope? i thought we were friends what the fuck?" jjs offended voice came from the side of pope.

"we need to look at our solutions and not our problems." pup scurries into the chateau and comes back with a box of beanies she knitted for john b. "see, solutions. no one will see our faces."

"to find a solution you have to look at the- nevermind." pope shakes his head when he sees john b petting pups hair and kissing her forehead telling her how smart she is.

OH! and pup loves to knit and crochet. she makes a lot of her own clothes and stuff, even had a bikini unravel on her in the ocean which prompted a rescue mission and a stern (maybe a smidge condescending) talking to from john b.

"what did i tell you, huh?" john b is staring down at her wrapped up in his shirt, sitting in the sand not looking at him. he has his arms crossed and is staring down at her in that disappointed john b way.

"the top was gonna fall apart." pup pouted.

"and what happened?"

"it fell apart."

"you gonna listen to me the next time i say somethin's not ready?"

"mhm..." she looks up at him, unintentionally giving him puppy eyes because its just a natural response.

john b decides she had enough embarrassment for the day and takes a seat next to her, patting his thigh. "com'ere. not mad at ya. come to daddy." and pup crawls into his lap to watch the sunset.

[kosmokai]

okay wait.. LEMME COOK. (this is a lil snippet of a fic i was thinking of.. lmk if u want me to make a full thing to it cause idk if i like it) alsoo thought of this while listening to chase atlantic’s tidal wave, so that’s probably what it’s gonna be called ‼️

nsfw under the cut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

so, beomgyu is at the beach with a few close friends, just for a casual outing. his friends wandered off to do something, surfing if he heard correctly, but he couldn’t be bothered to learn so he eventually found himself at the bar.

as soon as he walked in, he caught a glimpse of the prettiest girl he had ever seen… cute little two piece, skirt at the bottom, crocheted bra at the top, make up and hairstyle cute with a few accessories to top it all off was what she had on.. she— no, you, were beautiful.

of course, after seeing you, beomgyu chose to walk over to where you where, and sat a few seats away so it wasn’t… weird or anything. you saw him soon after and said hello, taking his order.

“you guys have anything interesting? something i wouldn’t find somewhere else?” you’re usual response got caught in your through as your pretty, pink lip gloss covered lips closed. “mm… well, we have a new cocktail we made a few days ago, but it’s still known beta so i’m not sure it would taste the best-” “i’ll have that. what’s it called?”

you smiled, really getting a good look at who was in front of you. his blonde locks, fluffy and covering his eyebrows, relaxed and calm expression.. he was handsome. pretty, even. but that’s besides the point. “tidal wave. cause it’s blue and stuff, and it has a kinda beach-y taste, if that makes sense. just wanted to tap into the environment, i guess!”

you smiled, taking the crinkled ten dollar note from him, smiling even more when he refused to accept the change. after a few minutes, you placed his cocktail in front of him, and he was speechless.

to sum it up, it was blue hue at the top and clear at the bottom, in a shallow like glass. there was a lemon and a little yellow striped umbrella inside, with some— uh, peach coloured shaved ice at the side of the top to resemble sand. on the opposite side along with the lemon and umbrella, was a piece of ice, somehow shaped like an ocean wave.

“it’s pretty..” he muttered a little loudly, not noticing your smug smile. pretty drink served by a pretty girl? that’s probably the first time he’s gotten the best of both worlds in one night. but little did you know, he was about to rock yours.

“thank you. enjoy!” as you were about to walk away, he shouted a little loudly. “keys! your keys.” you had left them on the counter next to him, after having to unlock the ice room for his drink. “oh my god, thank you! thanks for you i won’t get fired today.” he smiled, more of a smirk, and spoke. “don’t mention it,—“

he stopped, realising he didn’t catch your name. “oh, _______.” “pretty name for a pretty girl.. who serves pretty drinks.” you turned back to him, stopping your attempt at walking away so you didn’t have to stare into his eyes again. only because you’d find yourself staring.

“you are..?” “beomgyu. or gyu. both work.” he started sipping at his drink, a satisfied look on his face that set ease at yours. “cute. call me to clean up your drink, we can talk more.” you paused as you walked away, “gyu.” a wink flashed against your eye as you finally walked off, leaving him to smirk dumbly.

if he wasn’t feeling flattered, he would’ve been thinking about all the ways he could have you, take care, or rather, fuck you so well that you’d flush out, creating a tidal wave of your own.. right between your pretty thighs.

but oh well, guess he’ll think about that after finishing his cocktail.

THOUGHTS?? might make a whole fic abt it if u guys want :3

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Heyyy can you please write something for Nico x male reader where Nico has seen reader around camp and reader is friendly and always laughing and talking with everyone. And Nico develops a crush on reader and eventually he decides to confess to reader when he sees them in the woods. Fluffy mainly but like a little spicey at the end if u do that stuff? :)

hey there bestie, let's pretend it hasn't been two months. this fic is also for @golden-boy-muda 's request for nico x transmasc reader <3

I couldn't find an idea in my empty ol head for this request but then I was looking for old oil painting wallpapers for my phone and now you have this incredibly sappy 3.2k of art references [I advise you keep another tab open for cross-referencing if you want the fUlL eXpErIeNcE]

Oil on Canvas--- Nico di Angelo x transmasc reader [3.2k] »»————-　★　————-««

Nico definitely isn’t a stalker, he understands boundaries [once Jason explains them to him, of course], but he might have a bit of a staring problem. 

Sometimes he’s just eating gluten free waffles with Hazel in the dining pavilion and ends up watching you shove your siblings around and plait your little sister's hair so it doesn’t get in her face when she goes Pegasus riding.

He spooned some blueberries onto his plate. 

It’s not his fault.

It’s yours, if anything. What is he supposed to do apart from feel like there’s moths beneath his ribcage when you pose, your nose scrunched, up for photos with Drew’s polaroid camera that’s covered with inappropriate stickers? 

Hazel elbowed him meaningfully in the side when he couldn’t help but grin because Holy Hades, a single person shouldn’t be able to look that much like the painting Ophelia [by friedrich heyser, to be specific], just because they wore a green camp shirt and a pearl necklace. 

Maybe it was his fault that he was comparing you to beautiful paintings. 

He scooped the blueberries onto his half eaten waffle and reached for the maple syrup Hazel had finished drowning her breakfast in. 

The Stoll brother’s mortal mum had sent a stack of paintings from art galleries all over the world last Christmas, and they’d let him pick out a few of the older more poetic ones that didn’t have enough blood and guts for their taste. 

Now the oil paintings of lakes and birds and crying angels and… mainly cats, actually, hung around the dark walled Cabin he slept in. 

Your laugh when you threw strawberries at Kayla and Austin while they worked in the infirmary reminded him of Angel [carl von marr, of course] and he felt like Chat a difficult catch [charles van den eycken] when you walked right past him without even glancing back.

So he’d made peace with watching from afar how you would forget daily to put sunscreen on but somehow always remembered to wear this pair of white crocheted gloves that looked like cat paws. 

On a completely irrelevant note, Nico was learning to crochet. 

Hazel made eye contact with him again when he looked from you to her, and he plugged his ears and glared before she started kicking him in the shins and begging him to pluck up the courage to walk over and even just make eye contact. 

Not that he didn’t want to. 

He may have lined up in his catalog of daydreams, this scenario where you both went down to the beach. Any beach, really. You’d collect shells and eat popcorn and grapes and lemonade and squish sand between your toes and pick up crabs with him. 

PROMENADE ON THE BEACH [Charles Atamian, obviously].

There was another scenario where he’d take you to the farmers market. It had the biggest bouquets of flowers, and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables and incense and beaded jewelry. 

When he was laying in bed underneath the fluffy zebra patterned duvets that Piper forced him to use, mainly because they matched the dark reds of the cushions and browns of the bookshelves and antique lamps in the cabin so well, you were walking down the rows of little stores with him.

You were holding his hand with those soft cat paw gloves and you liked the feel of his rings [he’d read that people liked rings in a book, somewhere] and you’d filled the Studio Ghibli tote bag you had with berries. 

He’d watched most of the movies after he saw your bag. He liked Arriety the best. 

Clarisse stomped past the Hades table, leaving bloody footprints no one asked about, and smacked him in the back of his head. Nico went back to eating his waffles and daydreaming about your smile. 

In the farmers market you would sniff candles and never buy them because Hazel had far too many for all of her spells and the such that he would never run out. And what was Hazel’s was his and what was his was hers, meaning that what was Hazel’s was yours. 

Because Nico would give everything he owned, even his favorite jacket, for you to look his way. 

And he would buy you flowers, whichever were your favorite. 

Maybe the ones from the painting Hazel forced him to take because ‘you can’t just not hang a painting that literally is you, Neeks’. 

Italian Girl with Flowers. Joaquin Sorolla. 1886. 

He didn’t see the resemblance.

But it didn’t really matter, because he’d get to watch you looking at all the cool things for sale and then he’d take you to the best gelato he’d found so far [he was making a list] or just use the shadows, and take you to a proper gelato shop. Whatever you wanted to do, really.

Nico blinked. He huffed, mainly at himself, and stabbed his waffle. It fell apart on the fork.

“Why’re you angry?”

He looked up from his plate, to Hazel. She was sitting opposite him with a mustache made of orange juice. “...I’m not.”

“You’re not supposed to be pushing down your emotions, remember?” she said sternly, and started picking the green bits off a strawberry. She was eating as many berries as she could, since she wasn’t allowed lollies anymore. The perks of braces. 

Nico looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about the cat glove girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk.

“Cat glove boy, remember?” he muttered, and took a bite of his waffle, wiping squished blueberries off his chin.

Hazel’s golden eyes widened, “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, and was grateful for the excuse to peek your way. You were eating toast. Very pretty-ily. He felt his face heat up.

Hazel perked up, a mischievous grin he didn’t appreciate on her face. “Okay! I’ll go apologize to your boyfriend then-”

Nico stared at her. Why was she like this? She actually went to stand up, and then he yanked her sleeve, pulling her back down to the table. “No! Don’t just… you can’t… stop!”

“You didn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend,” Jason chuckled, sitting down next to Hazel. 

“I hate you all,” Nico said. 

It was torture. 

He felt like Sleepy time potion [Vanessa Stockhard], stuck in the middle of your loveliness, unable to do anything except stare and hope that his face wasn’t too as red as the mushroom he was sitting on. 

In the painting. 

Not in real life. 

Obviously. 

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico stared down at the hat in his lap.

He’d done it. He’d actually finished one of the hundreds of projects he’d started in Piper’s efforts to find him a hobby that wasn’t sitting on the fences of cemeteries or standing in line at Mcdonalds. 

He had lots of other hobbies, he just… couldn’t come up with them when she was arguing with him. 

So they’d gone through writing, painting, records, sleeping, which he excelled in, and then crocheting. None had lasted very long, but he may have had an idea half way through trying to stab Piper with the crocheting stick.

And now he had a white bucket hat with cat ears.

He threw it to the end of his bed, and hid underneath his duvet. Fuck. 

Repose. Malcolm Liepke. 1953. 

What on Olympus was he supposed to do about the way he wanted to hold you so badly he felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out?

He lay underneath in the pocket of stuffy darkness for a moment, before sitting up, untangling his blankets and teddies from him, and then standing. He may have just had the greatest idea anyone had ever thought of before.

Hazel was still in the shower, singing, most likely, so he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack that was actually just a skeleton, and then stomped out of his cabin, the stupid hat in his fist.

His heart was beating wildly. Stupid heart. 

The Wedding Dress. Fred Ellwell. 1911.

He rubbed his face and groaned at the sky. The stars were just peeking out, but it was still pink and yellow, and the sun hadn’t dipped yet. It was hidden by the trees he was trudging through, though. 

Fuck.

His chest was hurting. 

Nico scrunched up the stupid perfect crocheted hat that just had to stupidly perfectly match your stupid perfect cat gloves because Nico was stupidly perfectly obsessed with you. 

You, who was stupidly perfect.

Fuck. 

Psyche Weeping. Kinuko Y Craft. 1995.

He trod on twigs that broke underneath his boots and weaved through the tree’s that slowly became more and more laden with hanging pendants and wind chimes and ruins carved into the bark.

He stepped over a thin stream. A frog croaked at him like it was dying. As if it could ever feel like it was dying. As if it could ever fall in love.

Nico groaned at the sky again. 

“Just let it all out.”

He turned, and glared. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, actually,” Lou Ellen said, raising a purple eyebrow. It matched the undersides of her curly hair. She pointed to the cabin concealed in shadows and moss and stones behind her. “This is my house. And you are yelling very loudly.”

“I’m not yelling,” Nico argued. “I’m groaning.”

She stared at him for a second. She rolled her eyes. “Just come in, what do you need?”

“I need a spell. Or a charm. Or hex,” Nico said, following her through the wooden double doors. A wind chime tinkled even though the air was still. There were a few bunks lined up against the wall to one side. “Or a magic thing. I don’t care which one.” 

The rest of the cabin was filled with small coffin shaped pet beds and empty pink soda cans and voodoo dolls hanging from the roof and rugs with cats wearing strawberry hats on the fluffy material and misty crystal balls. 

Lou Ellen lent back on a desk stacked high with papers and paperweights that were actually jars filled with things. “Okay. I have three rules. I don’t kill people, and I don’t make people fall in love.”

“...And?”

“I’ll break both if it’ll be fun?”

Nico frowned. “No. Aren’t you supposed to say you won’t bring people back from the dead? That’s always the third rule.”

She squinted at him. “Uh…no. I send those people to you.” 

Nico squinted back at her, sticking his tongue out. He fiddled with the stupid perfect hat and looked around. There was just more creepy things and stuffed animals. “Whatever. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to… like,” Nico started. He sighed. He looked away. 

This was awful. 

He was not about to admit that he might be in love, even if it was to reverse the feelings in the first place with whatever heart ripping out brain altering magic was necessary. 

The Apollo cabin would find out through the witch in less than thirty seconds. He would never live it down. 

Nico groaned again. “Oh for fucks sake, do you need me to fic your voicebox or something?” Lou Ellen hissed. 

Nico glared at her. He groaned again, and then whirled around and stomped out of the weird mossy mushroom cabin. “Nevermind!”

“Fine! Have it your way!...weird little emo.”

Nico glared at the frog croaking at him, and kept walking through the forest. 

He followed the little stream through the woods until he could hear wind chimes or Taylor Swift’s latest album anymore. 

The little stream widened into a proper stream, filled with a lot more frogs. Why were there so many frogs? He nearly stood on a green one leaping across the path. Stupid frog.

Nico stuffed his hands into his pockets, along with the hat. He was tempted to just toss it into the river. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the silly feelings that felt like the biggest things in the world to him and his silly head full of thoughts about your lips.

Maybe the frogs could use the hat as a home.

“Here froggie… Come here… I said, come here... No I am not taking a tone with you!” 

Nico froze. 

Fuck. He took a deep breath, probably too loudly. He glanced to the side. 

Of course you were catching frogs, knee deep in a river.

You looked over, making eye contact, and Nico realized the moths underneath his ribcage were turning into bats. You squinted at him, hands on your hips, while water swirled around and leaves drifted from the trees above. A bucket was wedged between two rocks next to you.

A frog jumped out of it and landed near your leg, on a lillypad. 

“Look Albert,” you said, turning to the frog. “It’s a little Victorian ghost.”

“...I’m Italian,” Nico said quietly. He stared at you. He couldn’t help it. Wow. Fuck. Leo was right. He really was pathetic. “And I’m not a ghost.”

“Okay, Victorian ghost.” 

Nico stared at you. Fuck.

After that exchange, he should be able to hate you. Right? Right. He now resented you, and the moths turned bats would stop clawing at his chest and he would go back to having a normal life. 

Right?

Wrong.

You squinted at Nico, and then slowly turned to Albert. “I think the cute Victorian ghost is having a stroke.”

Nico blinked once, gulped, and then marched forward through the cold water and frogs, his shoes squelching loudly. Gods. This was so embarrassing. But you thought he was cute, even if you also thought he was a dead english boy, so he would be content with dying from embarrassment. 

He shoved the stupid perfect hat into your stupid perfect hands.

And then left in about 0.3 seconds. 

»»————-　★　————-««

You stared down at your pancakes. Why were they so gray looking? Had someone poisoned them? You figured that it would be a pretty good way to die, and tipped extra maple syrup onto them before you dug in. 

To counterbalance the poison, of course.

You scratched at the mosquito bite underneath the strap of your binder. It had flowers embroidered into it. Your binder. Not the mosquito bite.

One of your siblings across from you kicked at your shin, probably on purpose, but you continued to eat your odd tasting pancakes and picked blueberry grit off your white cat paw gloves. They were your favorite gloves. 

They also matched your new hat. The new hat that the cute Victorian but actually Italian ghost boy had given you before he teleported away with whatever dark magic he had stored in all that goth-ness.

You tossed a blueberry at Clarisse when she walked past and tried to bash you over the head. 

She wasn’t allowed to ruin your new hat.

You turned to see her flicking the blueberry over at someone else, and your eyes flicked past that too. Now way. You stood up, but you’d lost sight of the mess of dark hair when the Hermes cabin barrelled past.

You clambered onto your seat and stood up there. “Oi! Victorian ghost hat boy!”

The dining pavilion went quiet pretty quickly, and everyone turned to the cute guy with a skeleton hoodie and wide eyes. He pointed at himself when you pointed at him, and then went pink. 

Clarisse stuck her arm out so you didn’t faceplant when you jumped down from your seat, and you held onto your new hat as you traipsed across the cracked floor. 

You’d never figured out how that crack had got there. But there were bigger mysteries. 

Like this cute goth. 

His face just pinker when you grabbed his sleeve and tried to tug him out of the entire camp’s curious eyes. A dark skinned girl with a lot of butterfly clips and a Steven Universe t-shirt sent a thumbs up in your direction. 

It was only when you were standing by the low burning fire pit in a patch of daisies did you realize you hadn’t really planned far enough ahead. 

You took off the cat-ear hat and looked down at it. “...Uhm…”

“Sorry,” the goth said quickly, and when you made eye contact he looked away even quicker. “It’s creepy. Boundaries and stuff, I just… saw your gloves.” 

“It’s not creepy,” you argued, putting the hat back on with a grin. He was really cute when he blushed. “I mean, I don’t even know your name, and I have no idea who you are but your eyeliner is really really great and… Holy Hades if you smile like that again can I… please kiss you?”

The goth with no name stared at you, and then nodded about ten times too many. “Yes please. But, uh.. If you’re gonna kiss me, please, maybe don’t get my dad involved.”

“...Wut?”

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico could feel his cheeks growing hotter.

Not because of the sun, specifically, but it was hot and bright in the woods. He’d worn sunscreen though. And forced you to put it on too, once he’d found watermelon scented sunscreen, because you refused to smell gross no matter how sunburnt you would get anyways. 

His face was hot and red because of you. 

You, who was stupidly perfect and also possibly kind of Nico’s stupidly perfect boyfriend. 

“Psst, Victorian ghost boy,” you said with a sing-song voice, quietly, and waved your hand in front of his eyes with your pink, blue, and white painted nails. He blinked. You smiled. “You zoned out again.”

“Sorry,” Nico said, and pulled a daisy out of the ground. He handed it over. “I was thinking about you.”

He hadn’t realized the effect that saying that would have on you, but it was worth it when you opened and closed your mouth like one of the frogs you kept as pets. 

“I.. well, what were you thinking about?”

Nico had played his cards right. He smirked, and you shuffled forwards on the checked picnic blanket Piper had stolen from Drew, who’d probably nicked it from poor unsuspecting Demeter or Iris kid. You knocked over the basket of strawberries too, and then took your bucket hat off and stuffed it in your lap with a grin.

He tilted his head down. You were both following a very well rehearsed script. “...Kissing you?”

You launched yourself forwards then with a laugh, your cat-paw gloved hands landing on either side of his waist and probably squishing some of those strawberries at the same time. 

The sun reflected in your eyes and Nico held the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. 

You kissed back, and once you both stopped smiling widely, you could kiss back. 

Properly. 

He scratched his fingernails, the ones you’d painted rainbow that afternoon after catching more frogs and complaining about sunscreen, along your jaw when you bit down on his bottom lip.

Not as a complaint, certainly not, and you knew that too because you just sat back on your knees between Nico’s lap and tilted your head to fit deeper against Nico’s bruised lips. 

The ones that hadn’t had a single day off since you jumped up in the middle of breakfast with your gluten free waffles you hadn’t realized were gluten free until he had explained it to you later. 

It was intensely crazily unbearably romantic but it also meant whatever cold one of you managed to catch, the other would come down with only minutes later. 

And Nico felt like that smug little cat from Julie Manet’s Auguste Renoir.  

»»————-　★　————-««

[starfxkr]

So we know that pup does like knitting/sewing/crocheting but does she make gifts for the pogues? What does she make for them?

oooo i love this...

i feel like she crochets beer cozies for jj so he doesnt get condensation all over the place.

pope gets book covers!! and they have a little design relevant to whatever it is he's reading but if she doesnt know the plot they're just like daisies and smiley faces.

kie def gets like swimsuit covers or even bikini tops. kie is kinda her fav model. also headbands.

she's made cleo hella bags. like actual functional tote bags for her to use and she loves em.

sarah gets those cute crochet hats with different designs on em that she wears to the beach