[coneyislandbabey]

masterlist -> coneyislandbabey

EVERYTHING UNDER THE CUT ! I'll do my best to keep this up to date lol

EDDIE ROUNDTREE !

going to california. : you move to Los Angeles, and are surprised to run into an old childhood friend. [3.3k] well, my boyfriend's in a band.: nobody thinks the thing between you and Eddie can be as pure and real as you say it is. [1.3k] butterflies and zebras (and moonbeams and fairy tales).: You and Eddie have a daughter. The first weeks of her life growing up in the house with you both and the band. [3.1k] Beast of Burden series: the push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. -> (i'll never be) your beast of burden.: part one. Pittsburgh, 1967. [2.6k] -> my back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'.: part two. Pittsburgh, 1969. [2.1k] -> you keep on tellin' me i ain't your kinda man. : part three. Baltimore, 1970. [2.8k] -> i don't need no beast of burden. : part four. On the road, 1971. [3.8k] -> (put me out, put me out) put me out of misery.: part five. Los Angeles, 1973. [1.7k] -> all your sickness, i can suck it up.: part six. Los Angeles, 1974. [1.5k]

GRAHAM DUNNE !

testing his patience. : Graham finds his voice defending you after Billy takes his anger out on you during a recording session. [2.2k] the boys are back in town.: The Six are back in Pittsburgh during the Numbers tour, and Graham runs into his high school crush. [6.8k] i only have eyes for you.: You bit Graham at preschool when you were three years old. The rest, they say, is history. [3.5k]

WARREN ROJAS !

crossed wires.: a night of complicated feelings and jealousy lead to a revelation between you and Warren. [1.5k] she's got a strange magic.: Warren is usually cool and confident, but there's something about you that makes him completely nervous. He's desperate to ask you out, and he's desperate to get it right. [1.3k] i'd have you anytime.: You don't expect something to bloom between you and the drummer of your brothers' band, and when it does, the two of you try (and fail) to keep it a secret. [5.1k] she's a rainbow.: Warren's got it bad for Camila's childhood best friend. [2k] still raining, still dreaming.: It's a rare day off, and you and Warren spend it being lazy together in bed. [1.3k] so hot you're hurting my feelings.: your seemingly innocuous wardrobe choice makes Warren lose his mind. [1.7k] time to play b-sides.: you and warren pick up the pieces after the band falls apart. [1.1k] Mariposaverse fics: (these are not listed or written in any particular chronological order and can be read in any way after the first one) i'm with you.: You and Warren are friends with benefits. And then you find out you're pregnant. [3k] my mariposa. : a little domestic snapshot of you and Warren as new parents. [1.3k] butterfly wings.: It's your and Warren's daughter, Mariposa's first halloween. [1.1k] light of the love that i found.: Yours and Warren's wedding. [2.3k] the pick-me-up.: Life has been wearing you and Warren down lately, but Mariposa saying her first word really brings up your spirits. [1.1k] don't cry my sweet, don't break my heart.: Warren being a good dad and having a little crisis about his little girl growing up. [1.5k] Camp Wawayanda Lake: summer camp au. prank war and men super short shorts. What else do you need? -> prologue; bug spray and bonfires and booze.: You arrive at camp and reunite with old friends. There’s a drunken bonfire, and Warren is suddenly, distractingly beautiful. [2k] -> one; a study in lake water and forest princesses.:  It’s the first day of camp and Billy does something stupid that sets Daisy on a summer-long path toward revenge. [3.6k]

KAREN SIRKO !

high by the beach. : The feelings that grow between you and Karen Sirko seem to be the easiest thing in the world. [2k] with a girl like you.: You first cross paths with Karen Sirko when your band is recording your first album. After the fact, you can't get her out of your head; turns out, Karen's been feeling the same way. [1.5k]

[fightmasters]

yesterday was fanfic writers appreciation day so behold: an appreciation post

these people have, whether knowingly or unknowingly, pulled me through many-a rough patch. whether the filthiest smut known to humankind or the most heart wrenching angst imaginable, it takes hours and hours of dedication to produce something that makes others feel. and they do it fantastically. i am so so unbelievably honored to know them, read their writing, or, if i’m lucky, both. whether i’ve followed you for three days or three years, your writing has somehow made an impact on me and countless others. fic writers don’t hear how awesome and badass they are near as often as they should. so i thought i’d add some love to this god forsaken app. for all my favorites (that i’ll tag below) and every single fic writer who has written and/or posted anything at all, you fucking rock babyyy 😚 go give them + their writing some love 💖🫶🏻✨

@writefasttalkevenfaster @seventven @sweeterthanthis @kittenofdoomage @cockslutpadalecki @mypoisonedvine @manawhaat @ohcaptains @inklore @clints-lucky-arrow @teamfreewill-imagine @sunriserose1023 @cakesunflower @impala-dreamer @abaddonwithyall @harringtown @coneyislandbabey @navybrat817 @luveline @indestinatus @jungkxook @bucksfucks @writingsbychlo @kinktae @angrythingstarlight @tempestaurora @saxxxology @heli0s-writes @legolaslovely @irwinkitten @morningfears

[coneyislandbabey]

time to play b-sides. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: none! Maybe a little bit for post-band break up sadness.

SYNOPSIS: you and Warren pick up the pieces after the band falls apart. word count: 1,140

NOTES: hell must've frozen over, if I'm posting something new lol. I'm tentative to say that I'm back, but for now enjoy this short scene I wrote to get the rojas juices flowing again!

You loved Warren more than anything else in the world. The only thing that even came close to second– for yourself and for him– was the band, the music. It lived in your heart right beside the place where your longtime boyfriend resided. The band was what had brought the two of you together in the first place: you met when you auditioned to fill their need for a bass player; it was on stage at a gig the first time that you realized your feelings for the drummer extended beyond platonic; you had found the courage to be honest about how you felt through a song you wrote and shared with Warren. In turn, he had realized he loved you when he first saw you stand up to a heckler on stage; he had asked you to officially be his girlfriend while riding the high of The Six’s first record release; he felt schoolgirl-giddy every time he watched you perform from behind his drum kit. 

The band was very dear to you both. And it was gone. 

You stood in the Chicago hotel room you and Warren had checked into a few days ago, after everything went down, your bare shoulder pressed to the cool glass of the window. The city spread out below you, lights winking cheerfully in the night. You had seen dozens of cities in the past few years, but Chicago was easily a favorite. Or– rather, it had been, before the ugly memory of recent events had attached itself to the place. 

A warm hand closed around your bicep, rubbing soothingly up and down your bare skin and rousing you out of your stupor. You turned to face the man you loved, his soft smile, the whiskey brown of his eyes so clouded with both sadness and affection. You let him draw your body towards his own, his large hands on both of your arms anchoring you to that hotel room, that night, and not the memories of the concert at Soldier Field which you had lately been having so much trouble pulling yourself from. 

“It’s gonna pass, mama,” Warren said, his voice so gentle it nearly sent your heart breaking all over again. 

“It doesn’t feel like it ever will,” you admitted in return, blinking back the sudden burn of tears. You wondered where the rest of your bandmates were at that second, if they felt as gutted as you, if they were wallowing or if they were forgetting already. 

Warren’s hands traveled up your arms, skimming across your neck before landing on your cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He drew your face to his, pressing his lips to your forehead and keeping them there. 

“It hurts,” he said after a stretch of comfortable silence. You brought your hand up to his chest, right over his heart as if you could mend the ache just in doing so. You thought that maybe the most painful thing about the entire situation was having to see what it did to Warren. 

“It’ll hurt a little less everyday,” you reasoned, trying to be a bit more positive for him. Trying desperately to believe even a word of what you’d just said. 

“True,” he hummed against your skin. “And we didn’t lose everything, did we? We didn’t lose each other.”

“We never would lose each other,” you said, the words coming out with an unwavering finality as you looked up at him. “The band was– we gave it our all. It was my passion, my creativity, but you have always been everything. You’ve always been my heart, Warren, and you always will be, even in a world where The Six doesn’t exist.”

Warren wrapped his arms around your waist, his grin hidden in your hair, and you fought back the butterflies erupting energetically in your stomach. It made you feel silly, just how much every little thing he did affected you, even after all this time. It made you feel perfect. 

“I love you,” he said, the simple words spoken brushed up against the shell of your ear. “Never once did I think that the band was my future; I always thought that you were my future. Bands break up all the time, you know? Fade into obscurity. But you’re just… Well, you’re just part of me now. I’ll never doubt that.”

You turned your head towards him, grinning. The vice that had been gripping your heart since Soldier Field seemed to lessen, just a little. The dimness that had tinged life lately brightened at the promise of forever with Warren. 

“Good. ‘Sides,” you said, shrugging, “now we’ve got all the time in the world to do whatever the two of us want to. No more fighting over what happens with The Six or getting shunted aside or any of the rest of it. Just us.”

“Just us,” Warren echoed. “Best thing being in that band did for us was make us so fucking loaded that we really can do whatever we want.”

You laughed at his joke, shaking your head ruefully. “And whatever do you want to do this evening, Mr. Rojas?”

Warren rubbed his hands up and down from your hips to your ribs, eyes far off as he pretended to think hard about the question. 

“This evening, I want to put on that record you bought me last week, and eat room service naked in this luxurious ass bed,” he said finally, and you grinned.

“On it,” you announced, twisting out of his grip to get to the phone. You plucked the receiver off of the cradle, landing on your stomach on said luxurious ass bed. As the phone connected you to the lobby, Warren came up behind you, laughing as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down your legs. 

You put in your room service order quickly and hung up the phone, turning over to face him. “At least put the record on before you get me naked, War.”

“As you wish,” he mockingly bowed, before picking up the record you’d recently gotten him and setting it up on the turntable on the other side of the room. The first notes of Talking Heads’ Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town filled the space as he made his way back over to you, flopping down on the bed with a sigh. Immediately, he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you across the duvet until you were flush against him. 

You closed your eyes, settling your cheek against his chest. You let the music wash over you, focused on the steady rise and fall rhythm of Warren’s breath, the tempo of his heartbeat. Things were different, but they were not desolate. Everything that ever meant anything was right there in that room with you.

[coneyislandbabey]

one; a study in lake water and forest princesses. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: None for this chapter!

SYNOPSIS: This is chapter one of the Camp Wawayanda Lake Series! (read the prologue here!) It's the first day of camp and Billy does something stupid that sets Daisy on a summer-long path toward revenge. word count: 3,620

NOTES: I'm super psyched that you guys loved the prologue! I hope this one lives up to your expectations <3 check out the official series playlist on spotify!

Dawn was barely breaking over camp when you awoke. Stretching, you observed your cabin mates in the gray morning light: Daisy in the bed next to you, sprawled on her stomach, her red hair a chaotic mess all around her; Simone on the other side of her, pink satin bonnet secured over her hair, ancient quilt tucked right up around her chin; across the room Karen, her sheets and blankets shoved to the floor in the night, laying flat on her back with her head hanging almost over the edge, messy blonde hair brushing the wooden floor; and Camila, curled in the fetal position and almost tucked entirely beneath her sheet, only the top of her dark head of hair visible. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked around at the four of them. There was no better feeling in the world than waking up back at camp, surrounded by your favorite people. Waking up even earlier than you had to for school didn’t even feel bad when it was at Wawayanda Lake. 

Slowly, you pulled yourself onto your feet and made your bed, laughing to yourself over the fact that none of your movement or noise made anyone else wake up. All of your girls were such heavy sleepers. Just then, you knew the kitchen crew was finishing breakfast, setting it out on the long buffet tables for the kids and staff. You were close friends with a lot of the kitchen boys– Mario and Pat and Benny especially, all boys whose mothers were friends with Rod and had been coming to camp with you practically since birth– and the thought of them getting breakfast ready already had you excited to get back to your usual nightly poker games with them and the girls. 

You change into a loose powder blue t-shirt and a pair of orange athletic shorts, sitting on the edge of your bed to tie your laces before heading to the cabin’s tiny bathroom– nothing more than a toilet and a sink with a rusted mirror above it, as the showers had a cabin of their own– to brush your teeth and fix your hair for the day. As you do so, you hear the others begin to stir in the other room, and by the time you emerge, Camila and Simone are up with their beds made, getting ready for the day. 

“How on Earth are you always up so damn early?” Simone grumbled as she caught sight of you coming out of the bathroom, chipper and ready to get started on the first day of camp. She was sitting on her made bed, her clothes for the day on her lap, though she made no move to actually get dressed. 

You laughed, shaking your head at the grumpy way her eyebrows drew together. “Some of us can function as morning people, Mone.” 

“I can’t believe you ever became a counselor in the first place,” Camila piped up from the other side of the room with a laugh. “It’s, like, a mix of so many things you hate. Getting up early, the outdoors, the heat, being surrounded by so many children.”

Simone rolled her eyes as Camila ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “Something about you people charmed me, but I honestly can’t remember what now.” 

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” you dismissed, wrapping your arms around Simone’s shoulders. “We’re your irresistibly favorite people.” Simone only grunted in response, finally standing and making a move to get dressed as you released her shoulders. 

“I’ll see you guys at breakfast, I’m gonna go visit Rod and Teddy first,” you said, opening the screen door and letting yourself out into the cool morning air. It was slightly foggy, though you could see the sun doing its damndest to break through and knew it would be blistering by noon. 

Teddy and Rod had a cabin up near the administrative buildings, a few minutes’ walk away from the counselor and camper cabins. It was one of the oldest structures on the property, an honest-to-god logger’s cabin that had been built sometime in the 1890s, a beautiful, cozy little place that you had spent as much time as possible in as a kid. It was about sixty years later that the rest of the camp began to spring up around it. 

You knew Uncle Rod would still be asleep when you got there– he’d always been terrible at waking up before eleven at the earliest, but Teddy was just as much of an early bird as you. Stepping up to the front porch, you caught sight of him through the window, sitting in one of the big armchairs in the living room with a cup of coffee and a book. You rapped your knuckles lightly against the glass, sending him a wave when he looked up. Smiling, he came over to open the door for you. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he greeted, moving aside to allow you in. 

“Morning, Teddy,” you grinned, dropping into the chair opposite his. “So, first day. How are you feeling about this season?”

“Tired just thinkin’ about it,” he chuckled. “The kids seem good, though. Our regulars are back, and the new kids don’t seem like they’ll be trouble.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed. “I’m just glad that little menace, Danny Kowalski, from last year didn’t come back.” 

“I told his mother our price was raised by seventy-five dollars just to get her not to send him back,” Teddy told you seriously, and you bursted into laughter. 

“Genius,” you said as you calmed down. 

“How are you feeling about this season?”

“Oh, relieved to be back,” you told him. “This is my place, you know? All of my favorite people are here, and I love looking after the kids. I couldn’t wait to get back.” 

“I don’t think you’ll ever know what it means to your uncle that you love it here so much,” Teddy told you, the smile on his face soft and fond. 

“Well, I don’t think he’ll ever know how much it means to me that he keeps inviting me back,” you responded earnestly. Teddy reached out and dropped his large hand over yours, patting it a few times. 

“You better get goin’ to breakfast before you miss all the good stuff,” Teddy told you and you laughed, standing from your seat. 

“See you later, tell Uncle Rod I dropped in,” you said with a wave as you exited back out onto the dirt path. The sun had broken through the morning mist a little more, cascading in golden beams through the trees. By now, the wake up call had gone out through the camp, and everyone was in varying states of consciousness, getting ready for the day and making their way to breakfast. You passed gaggles of little campers in matching Wawayanda Lake ringer tees, the white fabric standing against the dark green letters and collar and their already tanned skin. 

All of your friends were at your usual table as you entered the mess hall, raucous conversation emanating from your little corner. You laughed to yourself when you saw that Daisy was leaning her head against the wall, seemingly asleep again. If Simone was bad with mornings, Daisy was awful with them. You made your plate and joined them, easily falling into the conversation they were already in the middle of. That was something you loved so dearly about these friends, this place; you felt that you belonged in every way and with every person. Not once had you ever felt alone or isolated here, and you knew that you never would. 

After breakfast, you stopped in the break room of the mess hall with everyone else to see what your assignments for the day were. You each had two daily, one assignment for the morning, and one for the afternoon, after lunch. Finding the row with your name, you almost laughed out loud. You and Daisy were assigned to lead the morning hike. Should be fun, seeing how Daisy is still barely awake. You watched as Daisy, eyelids still drooping, found her assignment and groaned, collapsing into the desk chair behind her. 

“Hey, maybe the hike will help wake you up,” you said to Daisy, clapping her on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin. 

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got the arts and crafts cabin this afternoon,” Daisy grumbled. “I have to teach stupid tennis after traipsing through the woods.” 

“Oh, come on, Hazy, lace up your sneakers,” you said, amused. A few minutes later the two of you were standing at the head of the blue trail with a group of twenty campers, chatting eagerly with one another and amped up on a school year’s worth of pent up energy. 

Blue trail went about a third of the way around the edge of the large lake, emptying out at the docks before pivoting and returning back to the main camp deeper through the woods. It took about two hours to complete, leaving you all time to freshen up a bit before lunch and the afternoon activities. You loved leading the hike. You knew all the trails by heart; hell, you could find your way back to camp without any trail in the dark at this point, probably. You knew a lot about the local flora and fauna and loved to point out what you saw on the hike, watching the kids’ mesmerized faces as they trailed a pair of blue jays through the sky, or caught a glimpse of a deer through a copse of trees. 

Daisy, on the other hand, absolutely hated it. Leading the hike was probably her least favorite activity at camp, and Rod was probably being a little shit by assigning it to her on the very first day. Luckily, yours and the kids' excitement was eclipsing Daisy’s already stormy mood. 

“Alright, campers,” you announced, and suddenly twenty pairs of eyes were on you. “I have a prize for whoever can spot and correctly identify five different birds on our hike. How ‘bout we get this show on the road?” 

With a cheer the kids surged forward and you grinned, leading the way into the mouth of the trail. You breathed in the thick scent of pine, relishing in the warmth of the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. You kept a list in your little field notes book of who had identified which bird, and led a few call and response songs that you knew off the top of your head from your Girl Scouts days, laughing as the kids screamed them back at you at the top of their lungs. Daisy trudged behind, bringing up the rear, slowly but surely waking up, her mood brightening by degrees. Even she was not impervious to the happiness that sunlight brings. 

Sooner than you expected, the path widened until it emptied into the small, sandy area that constituted a beach in front of the lake. The dock lay beyond it, a few rowboats tethered to one side and a group of campers splashing around in the designated swim area on the other side. You grinned as you caught sight of Warren standing at the edge of the dock in a white t-shirt and red lifeguard board shorts, bent over with his hands on his knees so that he could talk to two kids in the water. Billy, the other counselor assigned to morning lake duty, was taking his shirt off and threatening to get in the water after a few kids who weren’t following the rules. 

“Okay, guys! We’re at the halfway point, so how about we take a little break?” you said, turning around to face your small group. “Why don’t you all sit at the picnic tables and eat the snacks you brought.” 

At your words, the kids flew off in the direction of the clump of picnic tables, taking water bottles and granola bars out of their drawstring bags. Daisy came to stand next to you, and for the first time that morning, she had a smile on her face. 

“Not so bad, huh, Hazy?” you asked, nudging her in the ribs when she rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t push it, babe,” she warned you, and you threw your hands up in mock surrender. 

“C’mon, let’s go say hello to the boys,” you said, linking your arm through hers and dragging her towards the dock. Billy noticed the pair of you first, and stopped threatening the kids in the water long enough to come over to you. 

“Hey, how’s the hike?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of you and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Terrible. As usual,” Daisy said, and Billy rolled his eyes, smirking at her usual antics. 

“Oh, don’t listen to her,” you said, unlinking your arm from Daisy’s so that you could dig a few granola bars out of your own bag. Wordlessly, you passed one to the redhead. “The rest of us are having a great time.” 

Just as you were about to open your granola bar, someone slammed into your side full force. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you so that you wouldn’t fall on your ass. Turning your head, you came nose to nose with Warren’s grinning face. 

“Hey, cariño, what are you doing out here?” Even after you were steadied, Warren’s arms stayed linked securely around your waist. Unconsciously, you felt yourself slightly leaning into the warmth of him, the clean cotton smell of his shirt and the coconut scent of his sunscreen. 

“Hiking,” you told him, gesturing to shore, where your group was sitting. “Taking our halfway point break.” 

“Well, aren’t I lucky that I was scheduled out here today, then,” he said cheekily, and you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him away. “Did you see we’re working the arts and crafts cabin together later?” 

“Yup,” you nodded, “looks like you’re double lucky today.”

“Looks like,” Warren agreed. 

You hadn’t noticed that Daisy and Billy had moved down the dock during your conversation until Daisy started shouting. Whipping around, you spotted the pair of them on the other end of the dock. She seemed to be reprimanding him, and based on the shit-eating grin on his face, he was not absorbing a single thing she said. He made a move to poke her in the ribs, and as she jerked away from that, attempted to grab the granola bar out of her hand. As she tried to dodge him, she lost her footing. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, being able to see the disaster about to unfold, but unable to do anything to stop it. 

Daisy’s arms pinwheeled in the air, her light eyes going wide. The heel of her sneaker had gotten caught between two slats of wood, halting her movement and making her completely lose her balance. Billy was too caught up in screwing around to notice in time to help, and before anyone else could move, Daisy fell backward into the lake with a loud splash. 

“Shit. Daisy!” Billy shouted, kneeling down and holding on the dock with one hand, reaching down to try to grab the redhead and pull her out with the other. In seconds, he had a grip on her forearm, and blithely pulled her out of the water, helping her climb back onto the dock. 

Despite her dousing, Daisy’s whole face was bright red, made to look all the brighter by the fiery hair plastered to her face. You could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. 

“This is not good,” Warren muttered beside you, and you shook your head in agreement. It was like watching a car crash: horrible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

“You better watch yourself, Dunne,” Daisy said, her voice dangerously low as she jabbed her pointer finger into his chest. “Because I will be getting payback.” 

Without another word, Daisy turned on her heel and trudged off the dock towards your group. She shouted something at them and started down the trail without checking to see if you or the children were following her. 

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you told Warren, pulling him into a quick hug before running down the dock. You offered a quick wave to Billy, stifling a laugh at the expression of horror adorning his face. 

“Break time over, guys! Let’s go catch up with Daisy,” you called, harried, to the kids, who were doing their best to pack their snacks up and get back to the trail. You brought up the rear for the rest of the hike, keeping a worried eye on Daisy’s distant wet head. 

Daisy disappeared into your cabin during the break, and you filled in the rest of the girls on the morning’s events over lunch. Everyone was in agreement that Daisy was about to go nuclear, and nothing good could possibly come from it. Knowing Daisy meant knowing that there was absolutely no way to predict how she would react to anything, and you were all waiting with baited breath to see what form her payback would come in for this incident. 

You all parted at the end of lunch uneasily, heading into the afternoon with a wariness, keeping on high alert to see if Daisy would try to get her revenge immediately. However, as you walked past the tennis courts to get to the arts and crafts cabin, you saw Daisy standing near the fence, wearing a new, dry outfit and with her still-damp hair tied up in a ponytail. She sure as hell didn’t look happy, but she also didn’t look like she was about to find and kill Billy Dunne in the immediate future, either. That was the best you could hope for. 

You were a few minutes late to afternoon activities after taking the long way past the tennis courts, and when you arrived, Warren already had all the kids started on their art: macaroni necklaces for the little ones, string friendship bracelets for the older ones. Warren was sitting in one of the tiny plastic kid chairs, his knees practically up to his chest as he helped a little redheaded boy string macaroni onto some thread. Smiling, you grabbed a chair from a stack against the wall and sat across from him. 

“Oh, look who finally showed up to her post,” Warren said by way of greeting. 

“I decided to take pity on you and not leave you alone in a room full of children and gallons of glitter,” you responded, your voice as full of sarcastic faux-cheer as his. He rolled his eyes, handing the redheaded boy his necklace once he was done helping him. 

“So…” Warren started, glancing around the table to make sure all the kids were too busy with their projects to really be listening to your conversation. “This morning was interesting, huh?”

“That’s one word for it, for sure.” 

“What do you think Daisy means by ‘payback’?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Rojas,” you said honestly. “But whatever she settles on, it’s not gonna be pretty.” 

Warren laughed in agreement. “I feel sorry for Billy.”

“Eh, he’s got it coming,” you shrugged. “The two of them rib each other all summer every year. I can’t believe it took this long to escalate, honestly.” 

“Maybe if Daisy kicks his a–” Warren started, cutting himself off abruptly when he remembered he was surrounded by impressionable elementary schoolers. “His you know what, they’ll act normal next summer.” 

“Now that is some wishful thinking– I don’t think either of them are capable of acting normal.” 

As you spoke, you absentmindedly strung pieces of macaroni and chunky wooden beads onto a strand of summery orange thread. When you finished, you triumphantly tied it and slung it around your neck, showing it off to the table in a way that made all the kids giggle. 

“And Miss (y/n),” a tiny, curly-haired boy to your left started. “You’re pretty! Right, Mr. Warren?” 

“Oh, certainly,” Warren agreed, nodding his head in a theatrical manner. “She’s so pretty because she’s the forest princess of Wawayanda Lake.” The little boy turned to look at you with shocked, saucer eyes, and you stifled a laugh. 

“Well, thank you boys,” you said, smiling gently at them. 

The rest of the afternoon flew by in the blink of an eye, you and Warren passing most of the time catching up on what happened over the school year and occasionally helping kids finish their projects. At dinner, all nine of you sat together, though Daisy pointedly sat all the way on the other end of the table from Billy, eating quickly and leaving the mess hall early. 

She wasn’t at the cabin when you all got back after your showers, and the rest of you tried to go about your night as normal, pretending the thought of Daisy out there somewhere on the campgrounds plotting revenge wasn’t unsettling. 

You sat on the front steps of your cabin with Karen, Camila, and Simone, wearing a giant Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt that you stole from Warren last summer, your hair swept up in your towel, a contraband cigarette dangling from your lips. Karen was on the step below you, her hair up in big pink rollers as she shuffled a deck of cards for a quick game of poker before you all got ready for bed. Just as she was about to deal, Daisy rounded the side of the cabin, making her way over to you with a scary look of determination on her face. 

There was a devilish gleam in her eye when she opened her mouth. 

“I know how we’re getting Billy back.”

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[coneyislandbabey]

Hey hun! I don't know if you'll ever see this because you seem so busy, but I just wanted to say that you feel like such a safe space on here. Your writing is so comforting and beautiful! I cannot wait to read the rest of your summer camp au series with Warren. You have already exceeded all my expectations with just the prologue <33

This is one of the loveliest things anyone has ever said to me, thank you darling 🥹 I’m so grateful to get to be a comforting + safe space for you! I hope my writing keeps on giving you that feeling mwah x

[coneyislandbabey]

one; a study in lake water and forest princesses. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: None for this chapter!

SYNOPSIS: This is chapter one of the Camp Wawayanda Lake Series! (read the prologue here!) It's the first day of camp and Billy does something stupid that sets Daisy on a summer-long path toward revenge. word count: 3,620

NOTES: I'm super psyched that you guys loved the prologue! I hope this one lives up to your expectations <3 check out the official series playlist on spotify!

Dawn was barely breaking over camp when you awoke. Stretching, you observed your cabin mates in the gray morning light: Daisy in the bed next to you, sprawled on her stomach, her red hair a chaotic mess all around her; Simone on the other side of her, pink satin bonnet secured over her hair, ancient quilt tucked right up around her chin; across the room Karen, her sheets and blankets shoved to the floor in the night, laying flat on her back with her head hanging almost over the edge, messy blonde hair brushing the wooden floor; and Camila, curled in the fetal position and almost tucked entirely beneath her sheet, only the top of her dark head of hair visible. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked around at the four of them. There was no better feeling in the world than waking up back at camp, surrounded by your favorite people. Waking up even earlier than you had to for school didn’t even feel bad when it was at Wawayanda Lake. 

Slowly, you pulled yourself onto your feet and made your bed, laughing to yourself over the fact that none of your movement or noise made anyone else wake up. All of your girls were such heavy sleepers. Just then, you knew the kitchen crew was finishing breakfast, setting it out on the long buffet tables for the kids and staff. You were close friends with a lot of the kitchen boys– Mario and Pat and Benny especially, all boys whose mothers were friends with Rod and had been coming to camp with you practically since birth– and the thought of them getting breakfast ready already had you excited to get back to your usual nightly poker games with them and the girls. 

You change into a loose powder blue t-shirt and a pair of orange athletic shorts, sitting on the edge of your bed to tie your laces before heading to the cabin’s tiny bathroom– nothing more than a toilet and a sink with a rusted mirror above it, as the showers had a cabin of their own– to brush your teeth and fix your hair for the day. As you do so, you hear the others begin to stir in the other room, and by the time you emerge, Camila and Simone are up with their beds made, getting ready for the day. 

“How on Earth are you always up so damn early?” Simone grumbled as she caught sight of you coming out of the bathroom, chipper and ready to get started on the first day of camp. She was sitting on her made bed, her clothes for the day on her lap, though she made no move to actually get dressed. 

You laughed, shaking your head at the grumpy way her eyebrows drew together. “Some of us can function as morning people, Mone.” 

“I can’t believe you ever became a counselor in the first place,” Camila piped up from the other side of the room with a laugh. “It’s, like, a mix of so many things you hate. Getting up early, the outdoors, the heat, being surrounded by so many children.”

Simone rolled her eyes as Camila ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “Something about you people charmed me, but I honestly can’t remember what now.” 

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” you dismissed, wrapping your arms around Simone’s shoulders. “We’re your irresistibly favorite people.” Simone only grunted in response, finally standing and making a move to get dressed as you released her shoulders. 

“I’ll see you guys at breakfast, I’m gonna go visit Rod and Teddy first,” you said, opening the screen door and letting yourself out into the cool morning air. It was slightly foggy, though you could see the sun doing its damndest to break through and knew it would be blistering by noon. 

Teddy and Rod had a cabin up near the administrative buildings, a few minutes’ walk away from the counselor and camper cabins. It was one of the oldest structures on the property, an honest-to-god logger’s cabin that had been built sometime in the 1890s, a beautiful, cozy little place that you had spent as much time as possible in as a kid. It was about sixty years later that the rest of the camp began to spring up around it. 

You knew Uncle Rod would still be asleep when you got there– he’d always been terrible at waking up before eleven at the earliest, but Teddy was just as much of an early bird as you. Stepping up to the front porch, you caught sight of him through the window, sitting in one of the big armchairs in the living room with a cup of coffee and a book. You rapped your knuckles lightly against the glass, sending him a wave when he looked up. Smiling, he came over to open the door for you. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he greeted, moving aside to allow you in. 

“Morning, Teddy,” you grinned, dropping into the chair opposite his. “So, first day. How are you feeling about this season?”

“Tired just thinkin’ about it,” he chuckled. “The kids seem good, though. Our regulars are back, and the new kids don’t seem like they’ll be trouble.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed. “I’m just glad that little menace, Danny Kowalski, from last year didn’t come back.” 

“I told his mother our price was raised by seventy-five dollars just to get her not to send him back,” Teddy told you seriously, and you bursted into laughter. 

“Genius,” you said as you calmed down. 

“How are you feeling about this season?”

“Oh, relieved to be back,” you told him. “This is my place, you know? All of my favorite people are here, and I love looking after the kids. I couldn’t wait to get back.” 

“I don’t think you’ll ever know what it means to your uncle that you love it here so much,” Teddy told you, the smile on his face soft and fond. 

“Well, I don’t think he’ll ever know how much it means to me that he keeps inviting me back,” you responded earnestly. Teddy reached out and dropped his large hand over yours, patting it a few times. 

“You better get goin’ to breakfast before you miss all the good stuff,” Teddy told you and you laughed, standing from your seat. 

“See you later, tell Uncle Rod I dropped in,” you said with a wave as you exited back out onto the dirt path. The sun had broken through the morning mist a little more, cascading in golden beams through the trees. By now, the wake up call had gone out through the camp, and everyone was in varying states of consciousness, getting ready for the day and making their way to breakfast. You passed gaggles of little campers in matching Wawayanda Lake ringer tees, the white fabric standing against the dark green letters and collar and their already tanned skin. 

All of your friends were at your usual table as you entered the mess hall, raucous conversation emanating from your little corner. You laughed to yourself when you saw that Daisy was leaning her head against the wall, seemingly asleep again. If Simone was bad with mornings, Daisy was awful with them. You made your plate and joined them, easily falling into the conversation they were already in the middle of. That was something you loved so dearly about these friends, this place; you felt that you belonged in every way and with every person. Not once had you ever felt alone or isolated here, and you knew that you never would. 

After breakfast, you stopped in the break room of the mess hall with everyone else to see what your assignments for the day were. You each had two daily, one assignment for the morning, and one for the afternoon, after lunch. Finding the row with your name, you almost laughed out loud. You and Daisy were assigned to lead the morning hike. Should be fun, seeing how Daisy is still barely awake. You watched as Daisy, eyelids still drooping, found her assignment and groaned, collapsing into the desk chair behind her. 

“Hey, maybe the hike will help wake you up,” you said to Daisy, clapping her on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin. 

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got the arts and crafts cabin this afternoon,” Daisy grumbled. “I have to teach stupid tennis after traipsing through the woods.” 

“Oh, come on, Hazy, lace up your sneakers,” you said, amused. A few minutes later the two of you were standing at the head of the blue trail with a group of twenty campers, chatting eagerly with one another and amped up on a school year’s worth of pent up energy. 

Blue trail went about a third of the way around the edge of the large lake, emptying out at the docks before pivoting and returning back to the main camp deeper through the woods. It took about two hours to complete, leaving you all time to freshen up a bit before lunch and the afternoon activities. You loved leading the hike. You knew all the trails by heart; hell, you could find your way back to camp without any trail in the dark at this point, probably. You knew a lot about the local flora and fauna and loved to point out what you saw on the hike, watching the kids’ mesmerized faces as they trailed a pair of blue jays through the sky, or caught a glimpse of a deer through a copse of trees. 

Daisy, on the other hand, absolutely hated it. Leading the hike was probably her least favorite activity at camp, and Rod was probably being a little shit by assigning it to her on the very first day. Luckily, yours and the kids' excitement was eclipsing Daisy’s already stormy mood. 

“Alright, campers,” you announced, and suddenly twenty pairs of eyes were on you. “I have a prize for whoever can spot and correctly identify five different birds on our hike. How ‘bout we get this show on the road?” 

With a cheer the kids surged forward and you grinned, leading the way into the mouth of the trail. You breathed in the thick scent of pine, relishing in the warmth of the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. You kept a list in your little field notes book of who had identified which bird, and led a few call and response songs that you knew off the top of your head from your Girl Scouts days, laughing as the kids screamed them back at you at the top of their lungs. Daisy trudged behind, bringing up the rear, slowly but surely waking up, her mood brightening by degrees. Even she was not impervious to the happiness that sunlight brings. 

Sooner than you expected, the path widened until it emptied into the small, sandy area that constituted a beach in front of the lake. The dock lay beyond it, a few rowboats tethered to one side and a group of campers splashing around in the designated swim area on the other side. You grinned as you caught sight of Warren standing at the edge of the dock in a white t-shirt and red lifeguard board shorts, bent over with his hands on his knees so that he could talk to two kids in the water. Billy, the other counselor assigned to morning lake duty, was taking his shirt off and threatening to get in the water after a few kids who weren’t following the rules. 

“Okay, guys! We’re at the halfway point, so how about we take a little break?” you said, turning around to face your small group. “Why don’t you all sit at the picnic tables and eat the snacks you brought.” 

At your words, the kids flew off in the direction of the clump of picnic tables, taking water bottles and granola bars out of their drawstring bags. Daisy came to stand next to you, and for the first time that morning, she had a smile on her face. 

“Not so bad, huh, Hazy?” you asked, nudging her in the ribs when she rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t push it, babe,” she warned you, and you threw your hands up in mock surrender. 

“C’mon, let’s go say hello to the boys,” you said, linking your arm through hers and dragging her towards the dock. Billy noticed the pair of you first, and stopped threatening the kids in the water long enough to come over to you. 

“Hey, how’s the hike?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of you and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Terrible. As usual,” Daisy said, and Billy rolled his eyes, smirking at her usual antics. 

“Oh, don’t listen to her,” you said, unlinking your arm from Daisy’s so that you could dig a few granola bars out of your own bag. Wordlessly, you passed one to the redhead. “The rest of us are having a great time.” 

Just as you were about to open your granola bar, someone slammed into your side full force. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you so that you wouldn’t fall on your ass. Turning your head, you came nose to nose with Warren’s grinning face. 

“Hey, cariño, what are you doing out here?” Even after you were steadied, Warren’s arms stayed linked securely around your waist. Unconsciously, you felt yourself slightly leaning into the warmth of him, the clean cotton smell of his shirt and the coconut scent of his sunscreen. 

“Hiking,” you told him, gesturing to shore, where your group was sitting. “Taking our halfway point break.” 

“Well, aren’t I lucky that I was scheduled out here today, then,” he said cheekily, and you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him away. “Did you see we’re working the arts and crafts cabin together later?” 

“Yup,” you nodded, “looks like you’re double lucky today.”

“Looks like,” Warren agreed. 

You hadn’t noticed that Daisy and Billy had moved down the dock during your conversation until Daisy started shouting. Whipping around, you spotted the pair of them on the other end of the dock. She seemed to be reprimanding him, and based on the shit-eating grin on his face, he was not absorbing a single thing she said. He made a move to poke her in the ribs, and as she jerked away from that, attempted to grab the granola bar out of her hand. As she tried to dodge him, she lost her footing. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, being able to see the disaster about to unfold, but unable to do anything to stop it. 

Daisy’s arms pinwheeled in the air, her light eyes going wide. The heel of her sneaker had gotten caught between two slats of wood, halting her movement and making her completely lose her balance. Billy was too caught up in screwing around to notice in time to help, and before anyone else could move, Daisy fell backward into the lake with a loud splash. 

“Shit. Daisy!” Billy shouted, kneeling down and holding on the dock with one hand, reaching down to try to grab the redhead and pull her out with the other. In seconds, he had a grip on her forearm, and blithely pulled her out of the water, helping her climb back onto the dock. 

Despite her dousing, Daisy’s whole face was bright red, made to look all the brighter by the fiery hair plastered to her face. You could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. 

“This is not good,” Warren muttered beside you, and you shook your head in agreement. It was like watching a car crash: horrible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

“You better watch yourself, Dunne,” Daisy said, her voice dangerously low as she jabbed her pointer finger into his chest. “Because I will be getting payback.” 

Without another word, Daisy turned on her heel and trudged off the dock towards your group. She shouted something at them and started down the trail without checking to see if you or the children were following her. 

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you told Warren, pulling him into a quick hug before running down the dock. You offered a quick wave to Billy, stifling a laugh at the expression of horror adorning his face. 

“Break time over, guys! Let’s go catch up with Daisy,” you called, harried, to the kids, who were doing their best to pack their snacks up and get back to the trail. You brought up the rear for the rest of the hike, keeping a worried eye on Daisy’s distant wet head. 

Daisy disappeared into your cabin during the break, and you filled in the rest of the girls on the morning’s events over lunch. Everyone was in agreement that Daisy was about to go nuclear, and nothing good could possibly come from it. Knowing Daisy meant knowing that there was absolutely no way to predict how she would react to anything, and you were all waiting with baited breath to see what form her payback would come in for this incident. 

You all parted at the end of lunch uneasily, heading into the afternoon with a wariness, keeping on high alert to see if Daisy would try to get her revenge immediately. However, as you walked past the tennis courts to get to the arts and crafts cabin, you saw Daisy standing near the fence, wearing a new, dry outfit and with her still-damp hair tied up in a ponytail. She sure as hell didn’t look happy, but she also didn’t look like she was about to find and kill Billy Dunne in the immediate future, either. That was the best you could hope for. 

You were a few minutes late to afternoon activities after taking the long way past the tennis courts, and when you arrived, Warren already had all the kids started on their art: macaroni necklaces for the little ones, string friendship bracelets for the older ones. Warren was sitting in one of the tiny plastic kid chairs, his knees practically up to his chest as he helped a little redheaded boy string macaroni onto some thread. Smiling, you grabbed a chair from a stack against the wall and sat across from him. 

“Oh, look who finally showed up to her post,” Warren said by way of greeting. 

“I decided to take pity on you and not leave you alone in a room full of children and gallons of glitter,” you responded, your voice as full of sarcastic faux-cheer as his. He rolled his eyes, handing the redheaded boy his necklace once he was done helping him. 

“So…” Warren started, glancing around the table to make sure all the kids were too busy with their projects to really be listening to your conversation. “This morning was interesting, huh?”

“That’s one word for it, for sure.” 

“What do you think Daisy means by ‘payback’?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Rojas,” you said honestly. “But whatever she settles on, it’s not gonna be pretty.” 

Warren laughed in agreement. “I feel sorry for Billy.”

“Eh, he’s got it coming,” you shrugged. “The two of them rib each other all summer every year. I can’t believe it took this long to escalate, honestly.” 

“Maybe if Daisy kicks his a–” Warren started, cutting himself off abruptly when he remembered he was surrounded by impressionable elementary schoolers. “His you know what, they’ll act normal next summer.” 

“Now that is some wishful thinking– I don’t think either of them are capable of acting normal.” 

As you spoke, you absentmindedly strung pieces of macaroni and chunky wooden beads onto a strand of summery orange thread. When you finished, you triumphantly tied it and slung it around your neck, showing it off to the table in a way that made all the kids giggle. 

“And Miss (y/n),” a tiny, curly-haired boy to your left started. “You’re pretty! Right, Mr. Warren?” 

“Oh, certainly,” Warren agreed, nodding his head in a theatrical manner. “She’s so pretty because she’s the forest princess of Wawayanda Lake.” The little boy turned to look at you with shocked, saucer eyes, and you stifled a laugh. 

“Well, thank you boys,” you said, smiling gently at them. 

The rest of the afternoon flew by in the blink of an eye, you and Warren passing most of the time catching up on what happened over the school year and occasionally helping kids finish their projects. At dinner, all nine of you sat together, though Daisy pointedly sat all the way on the other end of the table from Billy, eating quickly and leaving the mess hall early. 

She wasn’t at the cabin when you all got back after your showers, and the rest of you tried to go about your night as normal, pretending the thought of Daisy out there somewhere on the campgrounds plotting revenge wasn’t unsettling. 

You sat on the front steps of your cabin with Karen, Camila, and Simone, wearing a giant Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt that you stole from Warren last summer, your hair swept up in your towel, a contraband cigarette dangling from your lips. Karen was on the step below you, her hair up in big pink rollers as she shuffled a deck of cards for a quick game of poker before you all got ready for bed. Just as she was about to deal, Daisy rounded the side of the cabin, making her way over to you with a scary look of determination on her face. 

There was a devilish gleam in her eye when she opened her mouth. 

“I know how we’re getting Billy back.”

tag list: @iwantloveletterss @boredshit-shadow @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @lilyhw1 @graziellasnotes @nicostars @robinismywife @xxxlaura @hella-sirius @everyonesannoyedwithme

[coneyislandbabey]

Ciao raga i am so sorry I’ve disappeared lately! I got a job and things have been hectic, but I promise I’ve got some stuff coming to you soon <3

[coneyislandbabey]

The fandom is getting so inactive and it makes me sad 😭

[coneyislandbabey]

all your sickness, i can suck it up. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: alcohol and maybe some cursing?

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together.  word count: 1,573

NOTES: This is part (6/8) of the Beast of Burden series! Part five can be found here. I hope y'all enjoy! Series is almost done now...

Los Angeles, 1974 

Somehow, the news of Camila’s pregnancy didn’t surprise you at all. The way she and Billy had been going, they were either going to be together ‘til death and raise a small army of unnervingly attractive babies together, or else they were going to crash and burn in the flames of the most damaging breakup known to man. It was going to be the first one, you guessed. 

The timing was shit, of course, considering all of you were getting ready to head out on tour very soon. But with Billy’s lifestyle, was there ever going to be a good time? Probably not, you thought, which is why you were wholeheartedly into their middle of the night wedding plan. You knew Billy was trying to be a good dad already, in his fucked up, disjointed kind of way. He was trying to set up a real family for this baby to be born into, even if he would be leaving Camila all alone right after they got hitched. You respected the effort. 

You put on one of your nicest dresses, a beautiful thing of deep green silk and beaded details that fell to midcalf and moved like water on your body. Camila had done a wonderful job turning the backyard into a beautiful backdrop for the wedding. If you were a stranger, you might have even thought that some planning had gone into all of this, that the matrimonial couple had chosen to have a nocturnal backyard wedding because it’s what they wanted, not because of extenuating circumstances. 

You downed a glass of champagne and a half before the vows were said, and your alcohol consumption only grew, quickly and steadily, after that. An hour later you were standing with your back against the house, thoroughly drunk and pouting as you watched Billy waltz Camila around the makeshift dance floor, happy giggles dropping like bubbles from her perfect mouth. 

An ache had settled in your chest the minute that they had announced their pregnancy, and it had only grown in intensity throughout the night. For a long time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on what was causing it, but the picturesque tableau in front of you made everything clear. 

You were jealous. 

Billy and Camila had the one thing you had wanted for so long and felt like you would never be able to have. They had their happiness with each other, and they could put it on display for all the world to see. There was nothing stopping them from being together, nothing in the way of them finding a home within each other. And they were married now, in a perfectly imperfect little ceremony celebrating with their closest friends-turned-family, preparing for a life as a unit together. 

You wanted to have that more than anything, and you wanted it with Eddie. You could picture your perfect life so vividly, one where you could call Eddie your own and be happy with him without worrying about any kind of consequences, but it was like all of it was on the other side of a solid wall of soundproof glass.  The kind of glass that you could hit with a baseball bat over and over, but would never break. Would never let you in. Not as long as you wanted your respect, your fame, your art. 

“Hey, you alright over here?” Eddie, seemingly materializing right out of your drunken daydream, was standing next to you, a slightly worried look on his face. 

“Eddie,” you grinned, voice coming out far louder than you had planned on. Eddie laughed, taking in your clearly hammered state. 

“You know, it’s kind of bad form to get so fucking drunk at a wedding,” he noted, amusement filling his eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you waved a hand dismissively. “I can get as drunk as I want in my own backyard, wedding or not, thank you very much.” 

“And who am I to argue with that logic,” he responded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Exactly,” you nodded approvingly. “Care to dance with me, Mr. Roundtree?” 

“I’d love to,” he smiled, offering you a hand like a proper gentleman. You took it, and he led you over to the makeshift dance floor. He pulled you towards him, his hands going securely to your waist as yours wound loosely around his neck. The two of you easily found the rhythm, swaying back and forth along with the song. 

You lost yourself in the familiar scent of Eddie’s cologne, spicy and a little green, like the Pennsylvania forests as summer turned to autumn. You stared up at him unabashedly with love-filled eyes, taking in every feature of his face. 

“What are you lookin’ at, darling?” he asked, staring back at you with the same affection. You felt the corners of your mouth lift into an involuntary smile at the mere sound of his voice. 

“Jus’ you,” you hummed, tilting your head to look at him from a slightly different angle. The lanterns that Camila had hung in the trees cast a warm, yellow glow across the yard, and it touched every bit of Eddie with gold. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, grin turning cheeky. 

“Mm, I always do.” Your heart snagged at the red flush that overtook his face at your words. You caught sight of Camila and Billy dancing behind Eddie, and the pout returned to your face before you could tamp it down. 

“What’s going on with you tonight, (y/n/n)?” Eddie asked, a frown on his face to match your own. “You can talk to me, you know that.” 

You sighed, embarrassed to realize that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, trying to gather yourself as much as you could through the haze of booze. You didn’t want Eddie to see you cry. Not on a night that was supposed to be nothing but celebration. 

“It’s just– I see them,” you started, tilting your head towards the happy couple. “I see them, and I wish it could be us.”

You watched Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, confusion coloring his features, and you pressed on before he could respond, intent on explaining exactly what you meant. 

“I want us to be able to just be happy, Eddie. I wish there was nothing else complicating things. I want us to be able to be together and everyone to know it and that to just be that, you know? I want… I want us to go through life together as a unit, and it’s breaking my heart right now that we can’t,” your voice was rough with emotion by the end of your explanation, unshed tears swimming in your eyes as you lifted your head to look at Eddie. You wished that you weren’t too drunk to lie. You wished you had the wherewithal to tuck all of these emotions neatly away where no one could see them, not even him. You wished that you could reach up and kiss him and maybe feel a little peace. 

Eddie brought one hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb dragging gently back and forth across your skin, and you leaned into the comfort of his touch. 

“I want that, too,” he said softly, and your heart clenched at the undertone of pain in his voice. 

“I’m sorry for all of this,” you said. A tear escaped your eye, and Eddie brushed it away with heartbreaking tenderness. “If I was different, we–” 

“I would never want you to be different,” Eddie cut in firmly. “I love you because of every single thing that makes up who you are, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I want you to achieve everything you desire, and I would never want you to desire less than you do.”

You smiled at his words, shaking your head fondly. Never in your life did you imagine being loved with the ferocity that Eddie loved you with. Loved despite everything, loved because of everything. Loved in every manner, in every version, in every world. 

“I never imagined something as wonderful as you could exist, Edwin,” you said earnestly. “And I’m still sorry that I’m the one standing in the way of us having all of this.” 

“I’m not sorry about it,” Eddie shrugged. “I get the honor of watching you achieve your dreams. And while you’re out there achieving everything you’ve ever wanted, I’ll wait for you until we can have this, too.”

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” you said, eyebrows drawing in at the thought. Who knew how life would go? Who knew how many years would go by before the opportunity presented itself? 

“You didn’t ask me to, angel. But I’m not capable of anything else,” Eddie said. “I love you, and that’s not going away. It’s been how many years already? You’re just stuck with me now.”

You laughed, your head dropping against his broad chest. 

“I promise it won’t always be like this. One day it’ll pass, all my anxieties, all the possible consequences. Then we’ll have all this, too.” 

“I know,” Eddie nodded. “There’s no other choice for us, I don’t think. You and I are just a fact of life.” 

A fact of life. You liked that. Eddie being tied to you in some overarching, cosmic way was about the only thing in life that made sense.

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[coneyislandbabey]

prologue; bug spray and bonfires and booze. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: alcohol, cursing

SYNOPSIS: This is the prologue to the Camp Wawayanda Lake series! You arrive at camp and reunite with old friends. There's a drunken bonfire, and Warren is suddenly, distractingly beautiful. word count: 2,079

NOTES: I'm so psyched for you guys to read this series! it feels like the perfect thing to write as summer comes in. I hope you love it! check out the official series playlist on spotify!

“Fuck! What did I do with my bug spray,” you muttered, sifting through the growing pile of random crap amassing on your bedroom floor. It was an amalgamation of stuff you had half-unpacked from college during the few days you’d been home, and stuff you’d been gathering to pack up for the summer. Daisy and Simone were due to pick you up any time now, and your duffel bag of summer camp essentials was still only half packed. 

“I can’t believe you’re already off again,” your mother said, suddenly materializing in the doorframe of your bedroom. She maneuvered through the mess to drop a can of bug spray in your open bag, and you shot her a grateful smile. 

“C’mon, mom, do you really want me moping around the house all summer, eating all your food?” you asked with a laugh. You spotted your sunscreen partially buried under a mound of sweatshirts from college, and tucked it away in your bag. 

“Actually, yes, I wouldn’t mind it,” she responded indignantly. 

“I know, mamma,” you said, standing up to press a kiss to her cheek. “But you know I wouldn’t miss a Wawayanda Lake summer for all the world.” 

“I know, I know. Don’t forget to say hi to Uncle Rod for me, alright?” 

“Of course,” you waved a hand dismissively. “And Teddy, too.”

“Very good,” she poked your nose. “Don’t forget to pack your shower stuff.”

“Shit! That’s what I’m missing,” you huffed, tottering through the mess in your room and out to the hall closet, where the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and soap you had bought specifically to bring to camp were waiting for you. As you made your way back to your bag, a car horn sounded from the street below. You unceremoniously dropped the bottles in your hands, making a beeline for the window. A cherry red Firebird was parked at the curb, Daisy’s familiar flaming head emerging from the driver’s side door. 

“Gotta go,” you announced to your mom, hastily zipping up your still-open duffel and throwing both of your bags over your shoulder. 

“Did you pack everything you need?”

“Guess I’ll find out! Bye mom, love you,” you grinned, dragging her into a quick hug before shooting down the stairs and out the front door. 

“My girl!” Daisy called as you emerged, throwing her arms wide as you emerged. You trotted down the driveway, dropping your bags on the sidewalk to launch yourself at her. 

“My hazy Daisy,” you grinned, arms still locked around her neck. “I missed you so much.” 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” 

“Where’s my Simone?” 

“Asleep in the passenger seat,” Daisy rolled her eyes. “Better not wake her when you get in. She almost bit my head off when I picked her up earlier.”

You laughed, ducking down to glimpse Simone’s sleeping form in the car. “She’s always so grumpy when she’s tired.” 

Daisy hoisted up one of your bags and you took the other, opening the back door and shoving them across the bench seat before climbing inside yourself. Daisy resituated herself in the driver’s seat, shooting you a grin through the rearview mirror. 

“Ready for another Wawayanda summer?” she asked. 

“I always am.” 

The ride up to Camp Wawayanda Lake was several hours, and you spent every minute with your head leaning against the open window, feeling the wind rush across your skin, singing along to the music blaring out of the radio. You watched as crowded suburbia turned into rural towns, as flat stretches of field turned into the winding road up into the mountains straddling the border of New Jersey and New York. With each mile that you traversed, you grew more excited at the prospect of everything this summer would bring. 

Undoubtedly, your closest friends in the world were those you had met at Wawayanda Lake. Some, like Daisy and Simone, you had met when you were children, attending summer camp together. The others, like Karen and Eddie, you had only met once you had all started working as counselors together back when you were sixteen. After days, it had felt like you’d known each other for years; never in your life did you connect with anyone that fast– even your college friendships paled in comparison. A part of you thought that Wawayanda Lake had to be magic in some way, the perfect conditions of summer sun and woodland isolation leading to you forging the most important relationships of your life. 

“We’ve arrived!” Simone shouted, breaking you out of your reverie. You shifted to look through the front windshield, catching a glimpse of the ancient wooden sign bearing ‘WAWAYANDA’ in faded white letters. A few minutes later, Daisy parked alongside a small group of other cars in front of the welcome building. 

“Looks like we’re the last to arrive,” you noted as you climbed out of the car, pausing to stretch your stiff limbs. 

“Yeah, we’re technically a little late,” Simone said, glancing down at her watch. 

“We’ll be fine, Roddy never gets mad at his little niece,” Daisy said, pinching your cheek as she walked past. You rolled your eyes at the gesture, following her and Simone up the front steps of the welcome building. 

Sure enough, everyone else was already milling around the main room, catching up with one another. You spotted Uncle Rod close to the door, back turned to you as he chatted with Teddy, and bounded over, scaring the shit out of him when you tackled him from behind in a hug. 

“Jesus fuck, kid,” he said, after realizing who it was who had accosted him. 

“Hello to you, too, Uncle Rod,” you grinned, detaching yourself from him in order to hug Teddy as well. “Mom says hello to you both.” 

“How is she these days?” Teddy asked, while in the background Rod muttered something about you nearly giving him a genuine heart attack. 

“Jealous that you two get to spend so much time with me,” you answered. “I’m very much in demand, you see.” 

“Of course you are,” Teddy chuckled. 

“Speaking of which, I’ve got places to be and people to see. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you winked at Teddy, hugged a still-grumbling Rod, and turned to your friends. 

“There she is!” Eddie said, the first to see you making your way towards everyone. He maneuvered around Karen and Graham to squeeze you in a hug so tight that it lifted you off of your feet. 

“Roundtree, wonderful to see you again,” you grinned, patting his cheek when he finally placed you back down on the floor. The next to reach you was Camila, whose hair was impossibly longer than the last time you’d seen her. You were enveloped in her familiar, comforting vanilla scent when she hugged you, a scent that could rocket you right back into memories of every previous summer of your life spent in this little stretch of woods. You made your way through Karen, Graham, and Billy as well, before looking around the room in confusion. 

“Where’s–” you started to ask, turning in a circle. You were cut off by the curly-haired boy you were seeking coming around the corner, grinning and already making a beeline towards you. 

“Warren!” you shouted happily, closing the distance between the two of you and launching yourself at him for a hug, completely trusting that he would catch you. His strong arms encircled your waist, clinging tightly as he spun you around in a circle. 

“There you are, angel,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was wondering when you’d get here.” 

“Manage to pass all your classes this year?” you asked, and Warren rolled his eyes fondly. You had teased him all of last summer for failing his writing requirement first semester because he slept through every class, having to retake the following semester. 

“Yes, mom,” he returned. “I learned my lesson and stopped scheduling classes before noon.” 

“I don’t understand you, Rojas. You wake up before eight in the morning every day when we’re here, but you couldn’t manage a ten-thirty class?” 

“Well, I don’t get to look forward to seeing you every day when I’m at Penn State, do I?” 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him on the chest and ducking your head to ward away the blush warming your cheeks. That only made it worse, when your hand made contact with the hard expanse of muscle that was Warren’s chest. You took a step back, taking him in as he told you about something stupid his college roommate had done. 

Warren had always been something to look at, even when you met at sixteen and he was scrawny and growing like a weed, but something had happened over the last year. It was like he turned twenty and his body said got it, we have to look ridiculously beautiful and grown up now. His hair was longer than usual, his curls deep black and shiny and unruly as usual. He must have started hitting the gym or something, too, because the way his t-shirt stretched tightly over his chest, arms bulging strong and tan from the sleeves, was almost lewd. 

Fuck, you thought. Every preceding summer, you had been able to convince yourself that you didn’t like Warren than anything more than a friend. Anyone can appreciate eye candy, right? At least, that’s what you told yourself when your gaze lingered too long on his bare chest when he was on lifeguard duty at the lake. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be able to lie to yourself like that this summer. And that meant you were totally fucked. 

Night came quickly after a long afternoon of running orientation for the crop of new, baby-faced sixteen year old counselors. As you walked them through the camp and explained their responsibilities, you marveled at how you possibly ever looked so young. 

Now was the time for fun. You all had exactly two days to yourself before the kids arrived: days that were meant for setting up the camp and making sure everything was in working order. But those nights, they were just for you. And like any adolescents alone in the middle of the woods, you spent them getting drunk around the bonfire. Rod and Teddy turned a blind eye to your antics, hoping you could get most of it out of your system before about a hundred children became your responsibility for the rest of the summer. 

The bonfire was already raging, reaching warm, orange fingers up toward the star-scattered sky. Counselors new and old (when did you get to be on the old end of things? Where had all the time gone?) gathered around, drinking a truly disgusting mix of whiskey and several other things that you didn’t want to know; Eddie’s invention, of course. 

You sat on one of the benches, at that giddy sweet spot of drunkenness where everything was warm and hilarious and you weren’t hammered yet. Camila was trying to teach Eddie and Graham an old Girl Scouts song– really, kind of morbid, about the Titanic– and you couldn’t stop laughing over the fact that they were so drunk they couldn’t sing a single note on key. 

“I would knock them both out of the water if I tried to sing it,” Warren said, dropping down to sit next to you. 

“Oh? So let’s hear it, then,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Can’t embarrass them like that,” Warren shrugged faux-apologetically, sending you into another fit of drunken laughter. 

As you quieted down, Warren bumped his shoulder against yours. “I missed you a lot this year.” The soft, low tone of his voice had an instant calming, sobering effect on you. 

“I missed you, too, War,” you said, turning to smile at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the firelight danced across his face, reflecting brightly off the sheen of his curls and brightening his eyes so much that it looked like the light was spilling out of him, not the fire. For the second time that day, you were confronted with how incredibly beautiful he was. 

“We better make the most of this summer, then,” he said. 

You hummed your agreement. “If we do, maybe we won’t have to miss each other so much.” 

“Lost cause,” Warren said, waving a hand dismissively. “I always miss you if you’re not right next to me.”

tag list: @iwantloveletterss @boredshit-shadow @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @lilyhw1 @graziellasnotes @nicostars @robinismywife @xxxlaura @hella-sirius @everyonesannoyedwithme

[coneyislandbabey]

all your sickness, i can suck it up. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: alcohol and maybe some cursing?

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together.  word count: 1,573

NOTES: This is part (6/8) of the Beast of Burden series! Part five can be found here. I hope y'all enjoy! Series is almost done now...

Los Angeles, 1974 

Somehow, the news of Camila’s pregnancy didn’t surprise you at all. The way she and Billy had been going, they were either going to be together ‘til death and raise a small army of unnervingly attractive babies together, or else they were going to crash and burn in the flames of the most damaging breakup known to man. It was going to be the first one, you guessed. 

The timing was shit, of course, considering all of you were getting ready to head out on tour very soon. But with Billy’s lifestyle, was there ever going to be a good time? Probably not, you thought, which is why you were wholeheartedly into their middle of the night wedding plan. You knew Billy was trying to be a good dad already, in his fucked up, disjointed kind of way. He was trying to set up a real family for this baby to be born into, even if he would be leaving Camila all alone right after they got hitched. You respected the effort. 

You put on one of your nicest dresses, a beautiful thing of deep green silk and beaded details that fell to midcalf and moved like water on your body. Camila had done a wonderful job turning the backyard into a beautiful backdrop for the wedding. If you were a stranger, you might have even thought that some planning had gone into all of this, that the matrimonial couple had chosen to have a nocturnal backyard wedding because it’s what they wanted, not because of extenuating circumstances. 

You downed a glass of champagne and a half before the vows were said, and your alcohol consumption only grew, quickly and steadily, after that. An hour later you were standing with your back against the house, thoroughly drunk and pouting as you watched Billy waltz Camila around the makeshift dance floor, happy giggles dropping like bubbles from her perfect mouth. 

An ache had settled in your chest the minute that they had announced their pregnancy, and it had only grown in intensity throughout the night. For a long time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on what was causing it, but the picturesque tableau in front of you made everything clear. 

You were jealous. 

Billy and Camila had the one thing you had wanted for so long and felt like you would never be able to have. They had their happiness with each other, and they could put it on display for all the world to see. There was nothing stopping them from being together, nothing in the way of them finding a home within each other. And they were married now, in a perfectly imperfect little ceremony celebrating with their closest friends-turned-family, preparing for a life as a unit together. 

You wanted to have that more than anything, and you wanted it with Eddie. You could picture your perfect life so vividly, one where you could call Eddie your own and be happy with him without worrying about any kind of consequences, but it was like all of it was on the other side of a solid wall of soundproof glass.  The kind of glass that you could hit with a baseball bat over and over, but would never break. Would never let you in. Not as long as you wanted your respect, your fame, your art. 

“Hey, you alright over here?” Eddie, seemingly materializing right out of your drunken daydream, was standing next to you, a slightly worried look on his face. 

“Eddie,” you grinned, voice coming out far louder than you had planned on. Eddie laughed, taking in your clearly hammered state. 

“You know, it’s kind of bad form to get so fucking drunk at a wedding,” he noted, amusement filling his eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you waved a hand dismissively. “I can get as drunk as I want in my own backyard, wedding or not, thank you very much.” 

“And who am I to argue with that logic,” he responded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Exactly,” you nodded approvingly. “Care to dance with me, Mr. Roundtree?” 

“I’d love to,” he smiled, offering you a hand like a proper gentleman. You took it, and he led you over to the makeshift dance floor. He pulled you towards him, his hands going securely to your waist as yours wound loosely around his neck. The two of you easily found the rhythm, swaying back and forth along with the song. 

You lost yourself in the familiar scent of Eddie’s cologne, spicy and a little green, like the Pennsylvania forests as summer turned to autumn. You stared up at him unabashedly with love-filled eyes, taking in every feature of his face. 

“What are you lookin’ at, darling?” he asked, staring back at you with the same affection. You felt the corners of your mouth lift into an involuntary smile at the mere sound of his voice. 

“Jus’ you,” you hummed, tilting your head to look at him from a slightly different angle. The lanterns that Camila had hung in the trees cast a warm, yellow glow across the yard, and it touched every bit of Eddie with gold. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, grin turning cheeky. 

“Mm, I always do.” Your heart snagged at the red flush that overtook his face at your words. You caught sight of Camila and Billy dancing behind Eddie, and the pout returned to your face before you could tamp it down. 

“What’s going on with you tonight, (y/n/n)?” Eddie asked, a frown on his face to match your own. “You can talk to me, you know that.” 

You sighed, embarrassed to realize that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, trying to gather yourself as much as you could through the haze of booze. You didn’t want Eddie to see you cry. Not on a night that was supposed to be nothing but celebration. 

“It’s just– I see them,” you started, tilting your head towards the happy couple. “I see them, and I wish it could be us.”

You watched Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, confusion coloring his features, and you pressed on before he could respond, intent on explaining exactly what you meant. 

“I want us to be able to just be happy, Eddie. I wish there was nothing else complicating things. I want us to be able to be together and everyone to know it and that to just be that, you know? I want… I want us to go through life together as a unit, and it’s breaking my heart right now that we can’t,” your voice was rough with emotion by the end of your explanation, unshed tears swimming in your eyes as you lifted your head to look at Eddie. You wished that you weren’t too drunk to lie. You wished you had the wherewithal to tuck all of these emotions neatly away where no one could see them, not even him. You wished that you could reach up and kiss him and maybe feel a little peace. 

Eddie brought one hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb dragging gently back and forth across your skin, and you leaned into the comfort of his touch. 

“I want that, too,” he said softly, and your heart clenched at the undertone of pain in his voice. 

“I’m sorry for all of this,” you said. A tear escaped your eye, and Eddie brushed it away with heartbreaking tenderness. “If I was different, we–” 

“I would never want you to be different,” Eddie cut in firmly. “I love you because of every single thing that makes up who you are, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I want you to achieve everything you desire, and I would never want you to desire less than you do.”

You smiled at his words, shaking your head fondly. Never in your life did you imagine being loved with the ferocity that Eddie loved you with. Loved despite everything, loved because of everything. Loved in every manner, in every version, in every world. 

“I never imagined something as wonderful as you could exist, Edwin,” you said earnestly. “And I’m still sorry that I’m the one standing in the way of us having all of this.” 

“I’m not sorry about it,” Eddie shrugged. “I get the honor of watching you achieve your dreams. And while you’re out there achieving everything you’ve ever wanted, I’ll wait for you until we can have this, too.”

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” you said, eyebrows drawing in at the thought. Who knew how life would go? Who knew how many years would go by before the opportunity presented itself? 

“You didn’t ask me to, angel. But I’m not capable of anything else,” Eddie said. “I love you, and that’s not going away. It’s been how many years already? You’re just stuck with me now.”

You laughed, your head dropping against his broad chest. 

“I promise it won’t always be like this. One day it’ll pass, all my anxieties, all the possible consequences. Then we’ll have all this, too.” 

“I know,” Eddie nodded. “There’s no other choice for us, I don’t think. You and I are just a fact of life.” 

A fact of life. You liked that. Eddie being tied to you in some overarching, cosmic way was about the only thing in life that made sense.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm @spidermanenthusist @mannstarkey @luvrgirl555 @toyourloves @thefemininemystiquee @treblebeth @how2besalty @vyctorya @neptunes-curse @littlehoneyfreak @itsjustmikii @fallingwallsh

[coneyislandbabey]

Sooo niche but I’m thinking abt Warren Rojas Spider-Man au

[coneyislandbabey]

prologue; bug spray and bonfires and booze. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: alcohol, cursing

SYNOPSIS: This is the prologue to the Camp Wawayanda Lake series! You arrive at camp and reunite with old friends. There's a drunken bonfire, and Warren is suddenly, distractingly beautiful. word count: 2,079

NOTES: I'm so psyched for you guys to read this series! it feels like the perfect thing to write as summer comes in. I hope you love it! check out the official series playlist on spotify!

“Fuck! What did I do with my bug spray,” you muttered, sifting through the growing pile of random crap amassing on your bedroom floor. It was an amalgamation of stuff you had half-unpacked from college during the few days you’d been home, and stuff you’d been gathering to pack up for the summer. Daisy and Simone were due to pick you up any time now, and your duffel bag of summer camp essentials was still only half packed. 

“I can’t believe you’re already off again,” your mother said, suddenly materializing in the doorframe of your bedroom. She maneuvered through the mess to drop a can of bug spray in your open bag, and you shot her a grateful smile. 

“C’mon, mom, do you really want me moping around the house all summer, eating all your food?” you asked with a laugh. You spotted your sunscreen partially buried under a mound of sweatshirts from college, and tucked it away in your bag. 

“Actually, yes, I wouldn’t mind it,” she responded indignantly. 

“I know, mamma,” you said, standing up to press a kiss to her cheek. “But you know I wouldn’t miss a Wawayanda Lake summer for all the world.” 

“I know, I know. Don’t forget to say hi to Uncle Rod for me, alright?” 

“Of course,” you waved a hand dismissively. “And Teddy, too.”

“Very good,” she poked your nose. “Don’t forget to pack your shower stuff.”

“Shit! That’s what I’m missing,” you huffed, tottering through the mess in your room and out to the hall closet, where the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and soap you had bought specifically to bring to camp were waiting for you. As you made your way back to your bag, a car horn sounded from the street below. You unceremoniously dropped the bottles in your hands, making a beeline for the window. A cherry red Firebird was parked at the curb, Daisy’s familiar flaming head emerging from the driver’s side door. 

“Gotta go,” you announced to your mom, hastily zipping up your still-open duffel and throwing both of your bags over your shoulder. 

“Did you pack everything you need?”

“Guess I’ll find out! Bye mom, love you,” you grinned, dragging her into a quick hug before shooting down the stairs and out the front door. 

“My girl!” Daisy called as you emerged, throwing her arms wide as you emerged. You trotted down the driveway, dropping your bags on the sidewalk to launch yourself at her. 

“My hazy Daisy,” you grinned, arms still locked around her neck. “I missed you so much.” 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” 

“Where’s my Simone?” 

“Asleep in the passenger seat,” Daisy rolled her eyes. “Better not wake her when you get in. She almost bit my head off when I picked her up earlier.”

You laughed, ducking down to glimpse Simone’s sleeping form in the car. “She’s always so grumpy when she’s tired.” 

Daisy hoisted up one of your bags and you took the other, opening the back door and shoving them across the bench seat before climbing inside yourself. Daisy resituated herself in the driver’s seat, shooting you a grin through the rearview mirror. 

“Ready for another Wawayanda summer?” she asked. 

“I always am.” 

The ride up to Camp Wawayanda Lake was several hours, and you spent every minute with your head leaning against the open window, feeling the wind rush across your skin, singing along to the music blaring out of the radio. You watched as crowded suburbia turned into rural towns, as flat stretches of field turned into the winding road up into the mountains straddling the border of New Jersey and New York. With each mile that you traversed, you grew more excited at the prospect of everything this summer would bring. 

Undoubtedly, your closest friends in the world were those you had met at Wawayanda Lake. Some, like Daisy and Simone, you had met when you were children, attending summer camp together. The others, like Karen and Eddie, you had only met once you had all started working as counselors together back when you were sixteen. After days, it had felt like you’d known each other for years; never in your life did you connect with anyone that fast– even your college friendships paled in comparison. A part of you thought that Wawayanda Lake had to be magic in some way, the perfect conditions of summer sun and woodland isolation leading to you forging the most important relationships of your life. 

“We’ve arrived!” Simone shouted, breaking you out of your reverie. You shifted to look through the front windshield, catching a glimpse of the ancient wooden sign bearing ‘WAWAYANDA’ in faded white letters. A few minutes later, Daisy parked alongside a small group of other cars in front of the welcome building. 

“Looks like we’re the last to arrive,” you noted as you climbed out of the car, pausing to stretch your stiff limbs. 

“Yeah, we’re technically a little late,” Simone said, glancing down at her watch. 

“We’ll be fine, Roddy never gets mad at his little niece,” Daisy said, pinching your cheek as she walked past. You rolled your eyes at the gesture, following her and Simone up the front steps of the welcome building. 

Sure enough, everyone else was already milling around the main room, catching up with one another. You spotted Uncle Rod close to the door, back turned to you as he chatted with Teddy, and bounded over, scaring the shit out of him when you tackled him from behind in a hug. 

“Jesus fuck, kid,” he said, after realizing who it was who had accosted him. 

“Hello to you, too, Uncle Rod,” you grinned, detaching yourself from him in order to hug Teddy as well. “Mom says hello to you both.” 

“How is she these days?” Teddy asked, while in the background Rod muttered something about you nearly giving him a genuine heart attack. 

“Jealous that you two get to spend so much time with me,” you answered. “I’m very much in demand, you see.” 

“Of course you are,” Teddy chuckled. 

“Speaking of which, I’ve got places to be and people to see. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you winked at Teddy, hugged a still-grumbling Rod, and turned to your friends. 

“There she is!” Eddie said, the first to see you making your way towards everyone. He maneuvered around Karen and Graham to squeeze you in a hug so tight that it lifted you off of your feet. 

“Roundtree, wonderful to see you again,” you grinned, patting his cheek when he finally placed you back down on the floor. The next to reach you was Camila, whose hair was impossibly longer than the last time you’d seen her. You were enveloped in her familiar, comforting vanilla scent when she hugged you, a scent that could rocket you right back into memories of every previous summer of your life spent in this little stretch of woods. You made your way through Karen, Graham, and Billy as well, before looking around the room in confusion. 

“Where’s–” you started to ask, turning in a circle. You were cut off by the curly-haired boy you were seeking coming around the corner, grinning and already making a beeline towards you. 

“Warren!” you shouted happily, closing the distance between the two of you and launching yourself at him for a hug, completely trusting that he would catch you. His strong arms encircled your waist, clinging tightly as he spun you around in a circle. 

“There you are, angel,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was wondering when you’d get here.” 

“Manage to pass all your classes this year?” you asked, and Warren rolled his eyes fondly. You had teased him all of last summer for failing his writing requirement first semester because he slept through every class, having to retake the following semester. 

“Yes, mom,” he returned. “I learned my lesson and stopped scheduling classes before noon.” 

“I don’t understand you, Rojas. You wake up before eight in the morning every day when we’re here, but you couldn’t manage a ten-thirty class?” 

“Well, I don’t get to look forward to seeing you every day when I’m at Penn State, do I?” 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him on the chest and ducking your head to ward away the blush warming your cheeks. That only made it worse, when your hand made contact with the hard expanse of muscle that was Warren’s chest. You took a step back, taking him in as he told you about something stupid his college roommate had done. 

Warren had always been something to look at, even when you met at sixteen and he was scrawny and growing like a weed, but something had happened over the last year. It was like he turned twenty and his body said got it, we have to look ridiculously beautiful and grown up now. His hair was longer than usual, his curls deep black and shiny and unruly as usual. He must have started hitting the gym or something, too, because the way his t-shirt stretched tightly over his chest, arms bulging strong and tan from the sleeves, was almost lewd. 

Fuck, you thought. Every preceding summer, you had been able to convince yourself that you didn’t like Warren than anything more than a friend. Anyone can appreciate eye candy, right? At least, that’s what you told yourself when your gaze lingered too long on his bare chest when he was on lifeguard duty at the lake. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be able to lie to yourself like that this summer. And that meant you were totally fucked. 

Night came quickly after a long afternoon of running orientation for the crop of new, baby-faced sixteen year old counselors. As you walked them through the camp and explained their responsibilities, you marveled at how you possibly ever looked so young. 

Now was the time for fun. You all had exactly two days to yourself before the kids arrived: days that were meant for setting up the camp and making sure everything was in working order. But those nights, they were just for you. And like any adolescents alone in the middle of the woods, you spent them getting drunk around the bonfire. Rod and Teddy turned a blind eye to your antics, hoping you could get most of it out of your system before about a hundred children became your responsibility for the rest of the summer. 

The bonfire was already raging, reaching warm, orange fingers up toward the star-scattered sky. Counselors new and old (when did you get to be on the old end of things? Where had all the time gone?) gathered around, drinking a truly disgusting mix of whiskey and several other things that you didn’t want to know; Eddie’s invention, of course. 

You sat on one of the benches, at that giddy sweet spot of drunkenness where everything was warm and hilarious and you weren’t hammered yet. Camila was trying to teach Eddie and Graham an old Girl Scouts song– really, kind of morbid, about the Titanic– and you couldn’t stop laughing over the fact that they were so drunk they couldn’t sing a single note on key. 

“I would knock them both out of the water if I tried to sing it,” Warren said, dropping down to sit next to you. 

“Oh? So let’s hear it, then,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Can’t embarrass them like that,” Warren shrugged faux-apologetically, sending you into another fit of drunken laughter. 

As you quieted down, Warren bumped his shoulder against yours. “I missed you a lot this year.” The soft, low tone of his voice had an instant calming, sobering effect on you. 

“I missed you, too, War,” you said, turning to smile at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the firelight danced across his face, reflecting brightly off the sheen of his curls and brightening his eyes so much that it looked like the light was spilling out of him, not the fire. For the second time that day, you were confronted with how incredibly beautiful he was. 

“We better make the most of this summer, then,” he said. 

You hummed your agreement. “If we do, maybe we won’t have to miss each other so much.” 

“Lost cause,” Warren said, waving a hand dismissively. “I always miss you if you’re not right next to me.”

tag list: @iwantloveletterss @boredshit-shadow @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @lilyhw1 @graziellasnotes @nicostars @robinismywife @xxxlaura @hella-sirius @everyonesannoyedwithme

[coneyislandbabey]

COMING ATTRACTIONS ! -> CAMP WAWAYANDA LAKE: A SERIES

SYNOPSIS: Every summer for the past few years, you have looked forward to being a counselor at Camp Wawayanda Lake, the summer camp in Northern New Jersey that your Uncle Rod owns. The two and a half months spent with your best friends in the whole world were totally blissful, especially now that you were all in college and hardly saw one another outside of camp. This year, you hoped, would be no different. But on the first day of camp, Billy accidentally starts an all-out prank war with Daisy, and suddenly summer isn't about fun, it's about getting even. You try your best to help Daisy execute her pranks against Billy and the rest of the boys, but you're occupied with something else: the thrilling, secret romance blooming between you and your longtime friend, Warren Rojas. Who will win the prank war? Will you and Warren manage to keep your relationship a secret? Do the boys really have to wear shorts that are that short? Guess you'll have to check into your cabin at Wawayanda Lake to find out. Prologue coming to you soon! Drop a comment on this post if you want to be tagged.

[coneyislandbabey]

i only have eyes for you. -> g.dunne

WARNINGS: some profanities but nothing not expected in canon

SYNOPSIS: You bit Graham at preschool when you were three years old. The rest, they say, is history. word count: 3,471

TROPES: Friends to lovers, slowburn, hidden relationship

NOTES: Written for this request! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Y/N L/N: You know, I don’t remember the first time I ever met Graham. Sometimes it feels like he was always just a fact of life, that he’d always been there and he always would be. 

Graham Dunne: She bit me the first time we ever met. First day of Pre-K 3, and I stole the plastic giraffe she was playing with, and she bit me. I don’t know what happened, but by the time both of our mothers arrived at the school, we’d gotten past the biting thing and were best friends. 

1958

“Oh, Graham Cracker,” you sang, flying down the front steps of the elementary school, your hair, tied up in little red satin ribbons, streaming behind you. Graham was at the curb, pulling his red Schwinn bicycle carefully out of the bike rack. He had gotten it from his mother for his ninth birthday, and it quickly became his prized possession. It was shortly before Halloween, and you were sinking deeper into a Pennsylvania autumn, deep red leaves bigger than your hand falling in droves from the Maples in front of the building and twirling in the breeze around the figure of your best friend. 

Graham turned at his nickname, grinning and raising a hand to wave when his pale eyes lit on you. His curls had grown a little too long, unruly, you noted, caressing the collar of his brown corduroy jacket. 

“Walk home together?” he asked, once you came to a stop in front of him on the sidewalk. You adjusted the straps of your school bag on your shoulders, pulling the sleeves of your jacket down against the cold. 

“But you biked,” you said, motioning to the Schwinn. He’d had it for a good few months now, but it still gleamed like it was brand new. This didn’t surprise you– you often saw him sitting on the front stoop, bike leaning against his knees and a polish rag in his hand.

“I’ll walk it home with you,” he shrugged, and before you could respond he started down the sidewalk, leaving you no choice but to fall in step beside him. 

“I want to check out books on the Titanic tomorrow when we go, so you’ve got to help me find the good ones,” you informed him. The next day was Thursday, and the two of you had spent every Thursday afternoon since first grade at the library. Each week you had some new topic you wanted to read up on, and Graham, who was far less interested in even opening a book, seemed perfectly happy to follow you around the stacks, carrying your ever-growing pile of books for you as you scoured the shelves for the ones you wanted. 

“Titanic is boring,” Graham said. “You should check out books about sharks. Or raptors. You know, other things that like to bite.” 

“Don’t start with that,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “You bite your best friend one time, and suddenly it’s the only thing he ever talks about.” 

“I have a scar!” he shouted, waving his pale wrist in your direction. The scar in question was miniscule, barely a millimeter where one of your sharp baby teeth had managed to break the skin in the incident. 

“That just means you always have a reminder of me!” 

1961

“It’s not a big deal, goose,” Graham told you. Rolling your eyes at the nickname (“Geese like to bite, like someone else I know.”) you turned to where he was sprawled out on your bed, cheek squished against your blankets as he, in turn, watched you pace in front of your closet. At twelve, he had finally passed you in height, and considerably so. His hair was still a little too long and shaggy, but now it was a choice of style rather than his mother being too busy to take him for a haircut. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said patiently, turning back to the closet. “It’s middle school, Graham. I can’t walk in there looking like a lamb.” 

Yours and Graham’s first day of middle school was looming a few days in the distance, and you’d been worrying yourself sick over making the right first impression. You didn’t want to look too young, still stuck in elementary school, but you didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, either. You envied the ease at which Graham seemed to be making the transition; with his considerable growth spurt and the new, sharper edges of his cheekbones and jaw, he could still wear his usual corduroy pants and pullovers and still look older, new. 

“You’ll be the best-dressed girl there, whatever you choose,” he responded, and the authority in his voice almost made you believe him. 

“And what makes you say that,” you said instead, hand on your hip as you leveled him with a look. 

“You’re the best everything girl in this town, you oughta know that by now,” he attempted to shrug in his horizontal position. You turned back to the closet without a word, hoping against god that Graham hadn’t seen the blush blazing in your cheeks. More and more often lately, Graham’s words invoked that reaction in you. You brushed the observation away, collecting yourself before nonchalantly turning back to him. 

“If that’s the case, why don’t you pick out my outfit?” you asked. 

“If it means we can go do something else after, then sure,” he said, picking himself up off the bed. He crossed the room to your closet in two large, easy strides, peering at the options over your shoulder. 

“This one,” he said after a minute of deliberation, pulling a red pleated skirt and sweater set out, holding them in front of your face. “You always look best in red.” 

You took the hangers from him, taking in the nonchalant but sincere look on his face. You didn’t quite know what to do with these compliments that Graham gave so freely, at random. You were getting to the age where some of the kids at school were going steady, or at least copying what they thought their older siblings were doing when they were going steady. You were sure you didn’t feel that way about Graham. Mostly. You had no idea what it meant to feel that way, anyhow. 

“Well, red it is, then,” you said, hanging the chosen outfit up on your closet door. “Let’s bike downtown to get ice cream.” 

1963

“You promised me, goose.”

“I thought you were joking! That’s so much time and effort, and it’s summer.” 

You and Graham were walking a lazy, winding path through the neighborhood. It was an unusually sweltering June, and school just let out for the summer. You’d had absolutely no plans for how to spend the next few months, until Graham reminded you that, back in the winter, you had promised you would let him teach you how to play guitar. 

“Why would I be joking?” Graham asked, looking at you strangely. 

“I don’t know, because that kind of thing is going to take a lot of time,” you shrugged. It’s not that you thought that Graham didn’t want to spend time with you more. It’s just that things had changed. In some ways, you had always known it was bound to happen: you couldn’t be Graham’s only best friend forever. Over the last year, he had gotten a lot closer with Eddie Roundtree and Warren Rojas. You had no problems with them– you quite liked them, actually, both were funny and kind and always said hello to you in the hallway even though you yourself weren’t friends with them– but they took up so much of Graham’s time these days. You felt stupid about it, but the truth was you felt a little jilted. Jealous, maybe. You missed your Graham Cracker. 

And now there was this: Graham insisting on teaching you guitar. A skill that would require practice every day. Hours and hours a week. Inadvertently, Graham was pledging hours and hours to you over the course of these languid, humid months. You put up a fuss, but you knew that you would have agreed to whatever Graham wanted to do, just to get the time with him. 

“Okay, fine. If you want to so badly,” you relented, and Graham let out a little cheer. 

“I’ll give you my old guitar until we can get you something better,” he said. “Come over my house tomorrow morning, we’ll start right away.”

1967

“So, we’re really doing this? Forming a band?” 

You were sitting on the back steps of the Dunne house, peering up at the two Dunne brothers standing in front of you. Warren was sitting on the steps with you, Eddie standing on your other side and leaning against the railing. Over high school, Warren and Eddie had gone from being Graham’s best friends, to yours, too. They slammed into your life with a fun, somehow easygoing relentlessness, Eddie showing up to teach you how to play a song he loves on the guitar, Warren staying with you all night the first time you got high and it sent you into an awful panic attack. If you were going to form a band, you guessed that these four would be the best to do it with. 

“Yeah, why not?” Graham asked. 

“Hell, you’ve convinced me,” Warren said, dissolving into laughter. You shook your head fondly at him; he was higher than space. 

“Alright, let’s do it,” you nodded, locking eyes with Graham as a grin spread across his face. 

Graham Dunne: Oh, sure, I remember exactly when I realized I had a crush on her. We were eight. It was the dead of winter, last day of school before Christmas break. A huge snowstorm had swept through the night before, and I was waiting out in the cold by the bike rack so we could walk home together. She came out wearing this navy blue coat and matching hat, and she contrasted so much against all that snow. I mean, she was striking. I didn’t know what beautiful was, then, but I was thinking it of her. That never really left me, not the whole rest of the time we were growing up. 

Y/N L/N: I don’t think I ever knew I liked Graham as more than a friend, not even all the way through high school. It just never occurred to me that I could like him like that. He was Graham, my Graham, the little boy I had bitten when we were three and who had been my best friend ever since. My brain couldn’t compute changing the way I felt about him, even if my heart had already made up its mind. All that changed, of course, after we got to Los Angeles. 

“Hey, we’re going to the market, you wanna come?”  Warren leaned against the doorframe to the living room, Eddie and Karen idling in the hall behind him. You and Graham were in the living room, him stretched out across the couch watching television, and you sprawled on the floor on your stomach, flipping through a copy of Rolling Stone Magazine. 

“No, thanks guys,” you smiled up at them, before returning to your magazine. 

“I’m good here,” Graham responded, too. Warren shrugged, and the three of them headed down the hall. You kept your eyes on the magazine, waiting to hear the front door close and the van start up. 

As soon as you heard the van peeling out of the drive, you stood and practically tackled Graham on the couch. He laughed, large, calloused hands coming to grip your hips and steady you. Your knees went to either side of his waist, hands splayed across his chest as you looked down at him. 

“Graham Cracker,” you grinned, and he rolled his eyes at the nickname. Beautiful eyes, you always thought. Like sea glass, or tide pools, or the Pittsburgh sky on a perfect August day. Mesmerizing even when he was rolling them at you in exasperation. Especially when. 

“Goose,” he acknowledged, smirking at his own use of your annoying nickname. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to it, instead carrying on with what you were going to say. 

“We’re alone,” you said, adopting the most innocent voice inflection you could manage. 

“That we are,” he nodded his head against the arm of the couch. 

“You gonna do something about it?” 

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, pretending to think about it for a moment before tugging you forward by your belt loops. You laughed, head falling back even as the rest of you fell forward, and Graham began pressing kisses to the exposed ridge of your collarbone. You murmured his name, still laughing, and ducked your head down to capture his lips with yours, listening satisfactorily to the hum of contentment he let out. 

You had all made it out to Los Angeles about a month ago, and things had changed between you and Graham almost immediately. You don’t know what did it– the thrill of change, the possibility of your future, the brand new city– but suddenly you saw Graham in all his glory, not just your life-long best friend, but a man who was sweet and caring, bashful, strong, beautiful. Everything. He had always been everything to you, you just hadn’t been able to see it. And as soon as you could see it, there was nothing to stop you from attaching to one another and never letting go. 

You kept it all on the down-low, of course. Nobody else needed to know, and that’s how you both felt. The rest of the band catching wind of the change in your relationship would only lead to teasing, or them eternally poking their nose into stuff that really really was not their business. Keeping it just between you meant getting to revel in it alone, not to mention the inherent thrill of sneaking around. 

“Let’s go up to your room, hmm?” you said breathlessly, detaching your mouth from his just long enough to get the words out. 

“Sounds good,” Graham said immediately. In one swift motion, he stood from the couch, gripping your thighs and picking you up with him as he stood. You linked your arms around his neck, trying not to giggle like an idiot at the thought of how easy it was for him to lift you. Graham didn’t look it at first glance, but fuck was he strong. 

He carried you up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, tossing you on the bed and kicking the door closed with his foot. You sat up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as soon as he was close enough and tugging him down onto the mattress with you. Just as Graham’s fingers went to the button of your shorts, you heard the front door swing open and the low murmur of voices. 

“Honeys, we’re home!” Warren shouted and then laughed at himself. “Market’s closed, we’re going out to the diner instead.” 

You sighed, closing your eyes and flopping back against the pillow. Graham dropped his head, curls tickling the skin over your breastbone.

“They really have great timing,” you muttered, unable to stop the laugh that escaped you. 

“We could just tell them, you know,” Graham mused. “That way we could stay home and pick up where they interrupted.” 

“Oh yeah, do you wanna be the one to say ‘we can’t come to the diner with you ‘cause we were about to bone’, or shall I?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and Graham laughed, rolling over to lay on his back next to you. 

“Alright, you got me there. Let’s go,” he said finally, standing up from the bed. You followed him out the door, bounding down the steps ahead of him. A minute later Graham followed, joining the rest of you in the living room. 

“Finally,” Eddie exclaimed, “I’m fuckin’ starving.” 

* * *

Six months into living in Los Angeles, and you and Graham had gotten a little careless. Well, actually, you’d gotten way too confident. If the rest of your friends hadn’t caught you yet, you figured, there was little chance they ever would. And now with everyone working so hard all the time, it seemed that nobody had the time to stop and think about how the two of you sat practically on top of each other in the living room, or the way you were always standing flush against one another’s sides. The hints were all there, but no one was picking them up. 

“I want to take you out,” Graham said. The two of you were sitting on the beach, watching the sun dip lower and lower past the horizon after a long afternoon of surfing. Or, rather, of Graham trying to teach you how to surf, and you only starting to catch on right at the end. 

“What do you mean, Dunne?” you asked, turning to face him. His nose and cheeks were red with a little sunburn, the faintest spray of freckles cropping up in the area. His eyes were almost supernaturally light in the golden glow of sunset. 

“I want to take you on a date,” Graham said. “And a real one, not one where we just happen to be hanging out alone. I want to take you to dinner, I want to offer you my jacket when it gets chilly as we leave, I want to bring you flowers, all of it.” 

“Okay,” you said slowly, turning over the warm images it brought to mind. “Well, let’s do it. Let’s go someplace fancy to eat. I’ll wear a dress and those earring you got me– you remember, those gold hoops you gave me after graduation?– and I’ll steal your jacket and kiss you under a streetlamp and take you home with me. We can do all of it.”

Graham pulled you in close and you rested your head on his chest. He smelled like sea salt and coconut sunscreen and the briny breeze sweeping in from the dock down the beach. 

“If we do that, the jig is up,” he said after a minute. “They’ll find out.” 

“So let them find out,” you sighed. “Let them freak out, let them tease, because I know they will, but one day they’ll get bored of it and move on and all the while we can go on a hundred fancy dates. I want that for us.” 

Graham angled his chin down as you looked up, catching his eyes and the surprised, apprehensive look on his face. “You do?” 

“Yeah, what did you think? I know we’ve been sneaking around, but it’s not because I wasn’t sure of us. You’re it, Graham, you have been since we were three years old,” you told him earnestly. 

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for, like, two decades,” Graham said, laughing in relief as he pulled your face in for a kiss. 

* * * 

The date had been everything you ever imagined it would be and more. You wore a slinky red dress and matching heels, the hoops Graham had given you years ago flashing amongst the strands of your hair whenever the light hit. Graham took you to a beautiful restaurant, the kind with little lamps on each of the tables, where patrons smoked cigarettes from golden cigarette cases through mother-of-pearl cigarette holders. He draped his jacket over your shoulders on the walk back to the car, and, as promised, you kissed him in the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp. 

You came home, both a little drunk off of expensive champagne, Graham’s arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stumbled over the threshold and into the house. Everyone else was sitting in the living room when you got back, ogling you curiously as you walked in. 

“And where have you been?” Karen asked, the first to break the silence. 

“On a date,” you said simply. 

“With who?” Warren asked. 

The two of you pointed to each other. 

“Wait, are you fucking serious?” This came from Billy, who had untangled himself from Camila in order to sit up and process the situation. “The two of you finally figured your shit out?”

“Oh, man, I never thought you’d have the balls to ask her out,” Warren laughed, tipping his head back against the back of the couch. 

“Oh, shut up, Rojas,” Graham said, rolling his eyes. 

“I figured you’d been dating when I met you in elementary school,” Camila said, smiling warmly at the two of you. “I’m glad that’s finally true.” 

“Thanks, Cami,” you grinned. “Now, uh, we’ll see you guys later.”

You pulled Graham away from them and to the stairs, ignoring the teasing and jeers emanating loudly from the living room. 

[coneyislandbabey]

heyy, I just read some of your warren x reader’s and your stories are literally sooo good!!

I was wondering if you could do something with graham x fem!reader, a childhood-friends to lovers in which they have to keep their relationship a secret bc everyone in the band would freak out if they found out, until one day they get caught by one of their band mates. i was thinking of something kinda like chandler and monica from friends? idk

anyways, i rlly loved your writing!! couldn’t help but request something :)

Hi there and thank you for requesting!! I took the prompt in a little bit of a different direction, but you still get some really great childhood friends to lovers :) I hope you love it, fic is here!

[coneyislandbabey]

i only have eyes for you. -> g.dunne

WARNINGS: some profanities but nothing not expected in canon

SYNOPSIS: You bit Graham at preschool when you were three years old. The rest, they say, is history. word count: 3,471

TROPES: Friends to lovers, slowburn, hidden relationship

NOTES: Written for this request! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Y/N L/N: You know, I don’t remember the first time I ever met Graham. Sometimes it feels like he was always just a fact of life, that he’d always been there and he always would be. 

Graham Dunne: She bit me the first time we ever met. First day of Pre-K 3, and I stole the plastic giraffe she was playing with, and she bit me. I don’t know what happened, but by the time both of our mothers arrived at the school, we’d gotten past the biting thing and were best friends. 

1958

“Oh, Graham Cracker,” you sang, flying down the front steps of the elementary school, your hair, tied up in little red satin ribbons, streaming behind you. Graham was at the curb, pulling his red Schwinn bicycle carefully out of the bike rack. He had gotten it from his mother for his ninth birthday, and it quickly became his prized possession. It was shortly before Halloween, and you were sinking deeper into a Pennsylvania autumn, deep red leaves bigger than your hand falling in droves from the Maples in front of the building and twirling in the breeze around the figure of your best friend. 

Graham turned at his nickname, grinning and raising a hand to wave when his pale eyes lit on you. His curls had grown a little too long, unruly, you noted, caressing the collar of his brown corduroy jacket. 

“Walk home together?” he asked, once you came to a stop in front of him on the sidewalk. You adjusted the straps of your school bag on your shoulders, pulling the sleeves of your jacket down against the cold. 

“But you biked,” you said, motioning to the Schwinn. He’d had it for a good few months now, but it still gleamed like it was brand new. This didn’t surprise you– you often saw him sitting on the front stoop, bike leaning against his knees and a polish rag in his hand.

“I’ll walk it home with you,” he shrugged, and before you could respond he started down the sidewalk, leaving you no choice but to fall in step beside him. 

“I want to check out books on the Titanic tomorrow when we go, so you’ve got to help me find the good ones,” you informed him. The next day was Thursday, and the two of you had spent every Thursday afternoon since first grade at the library. Each week you had some new topic you wanted to read up on, and Graham, who was far less interested in even opening a book, seemed perfectly happy to follow you around the stacks, carrying your ever-growing pile of books for you as you scoured the shelves for the ones you wanted. 

“Titanic is boring,” Graham said. “You should check out books about sharks. Or raptors. You know, other things that like to bite.” 

“Don’t start with that,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “You bite your best friend one time, and suddenly it’s the only thing he ever talks about.” 

“I have a scar!” he shouted, waving his pale wrist in your direction. The scar in question was miniscule, barely a millimeter where one of your sharp baby teeth had managed to break the skin in the incident. 

“That just means you always have a reminder of me!” 

1961

“It’s not a big deal, goose,” Graham told you. Rolling your eyes at the nickname (“Geese like to bite, like someone else I know.”) you turned to where he was sprawled out on your bed, cheek squished against your blankets as he, in turn, watched you pace in front of your closet. At twelve, he had finally passed you in height, and considerably so. His hair was still a little too long and shaggy, but now it was a choice of style rather than his mother being too busy to take him for a haircut. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said patiently, turning back to the closet. “It’s middle school, Graham. I can’t walk in there looking like a lamb.” 

Yours and Graham’s first day of middle school was looming a few days in the distance, and you’d been worrying yourself sick over making the right first impression. You didn’t want to look too young, still stuck in elementary school, but you didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, either. You envied the ease at which Graham seemed to be making the transition; with his considerable growth spurt and the new, sharper edges of his cheekbones and jaw, he could still wear his usual corduroy pants and pullovers and still look older, new. 

“You’ll be the best-dressed girl there, whatever you choose,” he responded, and the authority in his voice almost made you believe him. 

“And what makes you say that,” you said instead, hand on your hip as you leveled him with a look. 

“You’re the best everything girl in this town, you oughta know that by now,” he attempted to shrug in his horizontal position. You turned back to the closet without a word, hoping against god that Graham hadn’t seen the blush blazing in your cheeks. More and more often lately, Graham’s words invoked that reaction in you. You brushed the observation away, collecting yourself before nonchalantly turning back to him. 

“If that’s the case, why don’t you pick out my outfit?” you asked. 

“If it means we can go do something else after, then sure,” he said, picking himself up off the bed. He crossed the room to your closet in two large, easy strides, peering at the options over your shoulder. 

“This one,” he said after a minute of deliberation, pulling a red pleated skirt and sweater set out, holding them in front of your face. “You always look best in red.” 

You took the hangers from him, taking in the nonchalant but sincere look on his face. You didn’t quite know what to do with these compliments that Graham gave so freely, at random. You were getting to the age where some of the kids at school were going steady, or at least copying what they thought their older siblings were doing when they were going steady. You were sure you didn’t feel that way about Graham. Mostly. You had no idea what it meant to feel that way, anyhow. 

“Well, red it is, then,” you said, hanging the chosen outfit up on your closet door. “Let’s bike downtown to get ice cream.” 

1963

“You promised me, goose.”

“I thought you were joking! That’s so much time and effort, and it’s summer.” 

You and Graham were walking a lazy, winding path through the neighborhood. It was an unusually sweltering June, and school just let out for the summer. You’d had absolutely no plans for how to spend the next few months, until Graham reminded you that, back in the winter, you had promised you would let him teach you how to play guitar. 

“Why would I be joking?” Graham asked, looking at you strangely. 

“I don’t know, because that kind of thing is going to take a lot of time,” you shrugged. It’s not that you thought that Graham didn’t want to spend time with you more. It’s just that things had changed. In some ways, you had always known it was bound to happen: you couldn’t be Graham’s only best friend forever. Over the last year, he had gotten a lot closer with Eddie Roundtree and Warren Rojas. You had no problems with them– you quite liked them, actually, both were funny and kind and always said hello to you in the hallway even though you yourself weren’t friends with them– but they took up so much of Graham’s time these days. You felt stupid about it, but the truth was you felt a little jilted. Jealous, maybe. You missed your Graham Cracker. 

And now there was this: Graham insisting on teaching you guitar. A skill that would require practice every day. Hours and hours a week. Inadvertently, Graham was pledging hours and hours to you over the course of these languid, humid months. You put up a fuss, but you knew that you would have agreed to whatever Graham wanted to do, just to get the time with him. 

“Okay, fine. If you want to so badly,” you relented, and Graham let out a little cheer. 

“I’ll give you my old guitar until we can get you something better,” he said. “Come over my house tomorrow morning, we’ll start right away.”

1967

“So, we’re really doing this? Forming a band?” 

You were sitting on the back steps of the Dunne house, peering up at the two Dunne brothers standing in front of you. Warren was sitting on the steps with you, Eddie standing on your other side and leaning against the railing. Over high school, Warren and Eddie had gone from being Graham’s best friends, to yours, too. They slammed into your life with a fun, somehow easygoing relentlessness, Eddie showing up to teach you how to play a song he loves on the guitar, Warren staying with you all night the first time you got high and it sent you into an awful panic attack. If you were going to form a band, you guessed that these four would be the best to do it with. 

“Yeah, why not?” Graham asked. 

“Hell, you’ve convinced me,” Warren said, dissolving into laughter. You shook your head fondly at him; he was higher than space. 

“Alright, let’s do it,” you nodded, locking eyes with Graham as a grin spread across his face. 

Graham Dunne: Oh, sure, I remember exactly when I realized I had a crush on her. We were eight. It was the dead of winter, last day of school before Christmas break. A huge snowstorm had swept through the night before, and I was waiting out in the cold by the bike rack so we could walk home together. She came out wearing this navy blue coat and matching hat, and she contrasted so much against all that snow. I mean, she was striking. I didn’t know what beautiful was, then, but I was thinking it of her. That never really left me, not the whole rest of the time we were growing up. 

Y/N L/N: I don’t think I ever knew I liked Graham as more than a friend, not even all the way through high school. It just never occurred to me that I could like him like that. He was Graham, my Graham, the little boy I had bitten when we were three and who had been my best friend ever since. My brain couldn’t compute changing the way I felt about him, even if my heart had already made up its mind. All that changed, of course, after we got to Los Angeles. 

“Hey, we’re going to the market, you wanna come?”  Warren leaned against the doorframe to the living room, Eddie and Karen idling in the hall behind him. You and Graham were in the living room, him stretched out across the couch watching television, and you sprawled on the floor on your stomach, flipping through a copy of Rolling Stone Magazine. 

“No, thanks guys,” you smiled up at them, before returning to your magazine. 

“I’m good here,” Graham responded, too. Warren shrugged, and the three of them headed down the hall. You kept your eyes on the magazine, waiting to hear the front door close and the van start up. 

As soon as you heard the van peeling out of the drive, you stood and practically tackled Graham on the couch. He laughed, large, calloused hands coming to grip your hips and steady you. Your knees went to either side of his waist, hands splayed across his chest as you looked down at him. 

“Graham Cracker,” you grinned, and he rolled his eyes at the nickname. Beautiful eyes, you always thought. Like sea glass, or tide pools, or the Pittsburgh sky on a perfect August day. Mesmerizing even when he was rolling them at you in exasperation. Especially when. 

“Goose,” he acknowledged, smirking at his own use of your annoying nickname. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to it, instead carrying on with what you were going to say. 

“We’re alone,” you said, adopting the most innocent voice inflection you could manage. 

“That we are,” he nodded his head against the arm of the couch. 

“You gonna do something about it?” 

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, pretending to think about it for a moment before tugging you forward by your belt loops. You laughed, head falling back even as the rest of you fell forward, and Graham began pressing kisses to the exposed ridge of your collarbone. You murmured his name, still laughing, and ducked your head down to capture his lips with yours, listening satisfactorily to the hum of contentment he let out. 

You had all made it out to Los Angeles about a month ago, and things had changed between you and Graham almost immediately. You don’t know what did it– the thrill of change, the possibility of your future, the brand new city– but suddenly you saw Graham in all his glory, not just your life-long best friend, but a man who was sweet and caring, bashful, strong, beautiful. Everything. He had always been everything to you, you just hadn’t been able to see it. And as soon as you could see it, there was nothing to stop you from attaching to one another and never letting go. 

You kept it all on the down-low, of course. Nobody else needed to know, and that’s how you both felt. The rest of the band catching wind of the change in your relationship would only lead to teasing, or them eternally poking their nose into stuff that really really was not their business. Keeping it just between you meant getting to revel in it alone, not to mention the inherent thrill of sneaking around. 

“Let’s go up to your room, hmm?” you said breathlessly, detaching your mouth from his just long enough to get the words out. 

“Sounds good,” Graham said immediately. In one swift motion, he stood from the couch, gripping your thighs and picking you up with him as he stood. You linked your arms around his neck, trying not to giggle like an idiot at the thought of how easy it was for him to lift you. Graham didn’t look it at first glance, but fuck was he strong. 

He carried you up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, tossing you on the bed and kicking the door closed with his foot. You sat up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as soon as he was close enough and tugging him down onto the mattress with you. Just as Graham’s fingers went to the button of your shorts, you heard the front door swing open and the low murmur of voices. 

“Honeys, we’re home!” Warren shouted and then laughed at himself. “Market’s closed, we’re going out to the diner instead.” 

You sighed, closing your eyes and flopping back against the pillow. Graham dropped his head, curls tickling the skin over your breastbone.

“They really have great timing,” you muttered, unable to stop the laugh that escaped you. 

“We could just tell them, you know,” Graham mused. “That way we could stay home and pick up where they interrupted.” 

“Oh yeah, do you wanna be the one to say ‘we can’t come to the diner with you ‘cause we were about to bone’, or shall I?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and Graham laughed, rolling over to lay on his back next to you. 

“Alright, you got me there. Let’s go,” he said finally, standing up from the bed. You followed him out the door, bounding down the steps ahead of him. A minute later Graham followed, joining the rest of you in the living room. 

“Finally,” Eddie exclaimed, “I’m fuckin’ starving.” 

* * *

Six months into living in Los Angeles, and you and Graham had gotten a little careless. Well, actually, you’d gotten way too confident. If the rest of your friends hadn’t caught you yet, you figured, there was little chance they ever would. And now with everyone working so hard all the time, it seemed that nobody had the time to stop and think about how the two of you sat practically on top of each other in the living room, or the way you were always standing flush against one another’s sides. The hints were all there, but no one was picking them up. 

“I want to take you out,” Graham said. The two of you were sitting on the beach, watching the sun dip lower and lower past the horizon after a long afternoon of surfing. Or, rather, of Graham trying to teach you how to surf, and you only starting to catch on right at the end. 

“What do you mean, Dunne?” you asked, turning to face him. His nose and cheeks were red with a little sunburn, the faintest spray of freckles cropping up in the area. His eyes were almost supernaturally light in the golden glow of sunset. 

“I want to take you on a date,” Graham said. “And a real one, not one where we just happen to be hanging out alone. I want to take you to dinner, I want to offer you my jacket when it gets chilly as we leave, I want to bring you flowers, all of it.” 

“Okay,” you said slowly, turning over the warm images it brought to mind. “Well, let’s do it. Let’s go someplace fancy to eat. I’ll wear a dress and those earring you got me– you remember, those gold hoops you gave me after graduation?– and I’ll steal your jacket and kiss you under a streetlamp and take you home with me. We can do all of it.”

Graham pulled you in close and you rested your head on his chest. He smelled like sea salt and coconut sunscreen and the briny breeze sweeping in from the dock down the beach. 

“If we do that, the jig is up,” he said after a minute. “They’ll find out.” 

“So let them find out,” you sighed. “Let them freak out, let them tease, because I know they will, but one day they’ll get bored of it and move on and all the while we can go on a hundred fancy dates. I want that for us.” 

Graham angled his chin down as you looked up, catching his eyes and the surprised, apprehensive look on his face. “You do?” 

“Yeah, what did you think? I know we’ve been sneaking around, but it’s not because I wasn’t sure of us. You’re it, Graham, you have been since we were three years old,” you told him earnestly. 

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for, like, two decades,” Graham said, laughing in relief as he pulled your face in for a kiss. 

* * * 

The date had been everything you ever imagined it would be and more. You wore a slinky red dress and matching heels, the hoops Graham had given you years ago flashing amongst the strands of your hair whenever the light hit. Graham took you to a beautiful restaurant, the kind with little lamps on each of the tables, where patrons smoked cigarettes from golden cigarette cases through mother-of-pearl cigarette holders. He draped his jacket over your shoulders on the walk back to the car, and, as promised, you kissed him in the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp. 

You came home, both a little drunk off of expensive champagne, Graham’s arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stumbled over the threshold and into the house. Everyone else was sitting in the living room when you got back, ogling you curiously as you walked in. 

“And where have you been?” Karen asked, the first to break the silence. 

“On a date,” you said simply. 

“With who?” Warren asked. 

The two of you pointed to each other. 

“Wait, are you fucking serious?” This came from Billy, who had untangled himself from Camila in order to sit up and process the situation. “The two of you finally figured your shit out?”

“Oh, man, I never thought you’d have the balls to ask her out,” Warren laughed, tipping his head back against the back of the couch. 

“Oh, shut up, Rojas,” Graham said, rolling his eyes. 

“I figured you’d been dating when I met you in elementary school,” Camila said, smiling warmly at the two of you. “I’m glad that’s finally true.” 

“Thanks, Cami,” you grinned. “Now, uh, we’ll see you guys later.”

You pulled Graham away from them and to the stairs, ignoring the teasing and jeers emanating loudly from the living room.