Ross Lynch Imagines

The Forest

This is based off the movie "Backcountry." If you have ever seen it, you know what to expect. Otherwise, reader's discretion is advised . . . Also, do take note that this particular imagine is in FIRST PERSON instead of SECOND.

—

  The whirring of the coffee pot woke me from my slumber, the aroma of freshly made coffee blended with eggs and spices seeping through the thin walls of our apartment. I pulled back the blankets, sitting on the edge of my side of the bed and stretched my body. I rose out of bed, padding out of our bedroom and emerging into the kitchenette. I stood in the threshold of the kitchen, admiring the slightly amusing sight of my boyfriend anxiously preparing breakfast. He stood in front of the stove with his boxers clinging loosely to his waist and shirtless, the muscles in his back extracting as he stirred whatever concoction he was making in the frying pan. It was very sweet and humorous, all the while an incredibly sexy and hot sight.

  Undeniably I was enjoying this.

  "Good morning," I chirped in a sing-song tone, suddenly becoming more lucid from sleeping. It was nearly eight in the morning, which seemed strange to see my boyfriend awake at this hour and myself included. Although, I knew what the occasion was for . . .

  Ross spun around in midst of jumping in surprise, his face flushed scarlet red and his blonde hair disheveled as if he had been tugging at it. He was evidently flustered.

   "Y/N..." he trails off, his honey brown eyes dilated. "What are you doing up so early?"

  "Well, we've got long day ahead of us," I said, entering the kitchen more. "Besides, the smell was making my mouth water."

  "You don't have to wake up yet," Ross tells me. "It's not um, ready yet . . ."

"You're making me breakfast?" My heart melted.

  "Mmm-hmm," he hums in response, spooning the spatula around in the frying pan.

  "That's so sweet," I coo, approaching him from behind. It was not like he hasn't cooked for me before, but he has never cooked me breakfast or breakfast in bed. I didn't mind that, though, because he always makes the best meals for dinner. The only reason he doesn't cook breakfast is because he cannot wake up early by himself, which is why I am stunned to see him awake.

  I snake my arms around his bare waist, getting on my tippy toes and peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing.

  "What's cooking, good looking?" I snickered at how cheesy it sounded coming from my mouth.

  I watched Ross's lips twitch upwards into a smile.

   "Eggs, bacon, and toast," Ross says, flipping over the crispy bacon triggering a sizzling noise from the grease.

   "Yummy," I smiled. "Wait...what kind of eggs—"

  "Scrambled, don't worry," Ross chuckled softly. "Believe me, I learned my lesson from giving you sunny-side up eggs."

  "Yuck!" I cringe in distaste. "The yolk is disgusting."

  "Agreed."

   I poured myself a cup of coffee while I waited for the food to be done. I enjoyed watching Ross some more before we sat down to eat our breakfast, discussing the brief plans of today.

  "So I was hoping to leave by nine," Ross tells me, glancing at the clock. "Which leaves us fifty minutes to get ready."

"Why do we have to go to the woods as a big adventure?" I whine, biting into my bacon. "Why can't we go somewhere simple like the beach? Camping has bugs, no bathrooms, no light, and no civilization in case of emergencies."