#spring prompts

No usual buzzing from the fridge, floors creaking on their own, no smoke alarm obnoxiously beating against her ears (she may have yanked out the batteries some other night she was up), no cicadas drumming their song, or leaves from the tree that was too close to her bedroom window tap dancing against the glass.

No sound. Lights out.

Dark inside the home like she always preferred it when the night fell.

It was so quiet even her Bernedoodle, Mablean wasn’t snoring.

A bit of relief brushed over Ada, fresh Wyoming air met her, clean, with no dust clinging to it as she pulled the breeze into her lungs.

Her lungs felt like they’d been waiting for that.

The air was warm for April and the sky still bled a deep navy.

Standing at the stoop of her door, her eyes scan the neighborhood from right to left. The real livelihood seemed to be towards the left of the area and that sparked her interest. As usual she’s leaving her home, plucking up her keys from the stand by the door, slipping her feet into some moccasins and blends into the night.

Just a girl and her handwoven Sarape.

A long time gift from Ana Paula, who was a regular at Ada’s father’s food truck back when she was younger and happened to be very kind and always comforting—especially when Ada lost her father.

The streetlights ticked as Ada’s feet slapped against the sidewalk, her eyes widening at the sight of kids scribbling chalk into the street, flashlights propped beside them.

A few houses on the same side of the street as her’s, contained neighbors who either sat on their porches or rested in lawn chairs on the grass, peering up at the sky.

This was unusual.

The last time Ada even looked at the clock was around midnight.

And she’s not sure how many times she’s fumbled around in her bed, wishing for sleep and getting nothing for it.

She lifts two fingers with a small smile as she receives eye contact from a few of the neighbors who return the gesture with a dip of their heads or a low murmur of her name.

“Ah, there she is. I was starting to think you got stuck in your crypt. What’s up, sleeping beauty?” Ledger greets, perched on the back door of his truck, long limbs hanging above the ground.

An immediate eye roll comes from Ada as Ledger grins over at her, hunched over a little while he held onto what looked like a bottled ironport.

“Shut up.” Is all she says while she uses her hands to lift herself up onto the edge of the truck, her thigh softly brushing against the 6’5 man’s, who chuckles, bumping his shoulder against her’s in greeting.

Of course she forcefully does it back.

Ledger grunts, “Hey now, ow. That’s not the good shoulder.”

“Shit,” Her eyes widen a little as he moves his shoulder around underneath his hoodie, she mumbles out a apology, “I’m sorry.”

Ledger sucks air between his teeth before letting his shoulder drop, his grin spreading as he fans his hand along with it, “Nah, I’m just fucking with you. It’s the other one.”

“How can you be so annoying even at—whatever time it is?”

Ledger shrugs, lifting the bottle to his lips, replying before he takes a sip, “Some may say it’s a gift.”

Then he winks.

Ada can’t help but shake her head at the man, turning to gaze back at the neighborhood.

It lands on Scotty Landry’s old home just as the light in the front room of the house shuts off.

“Why is nearly everyone up and at ‘em like it’s a Sunday afternoon?” Ada questions, as she leans her hands back onto the bed of the truck.

Ledger croaks out, before clearing his throat, holding his finger out in warning so that she doesn’t poke fun at him, “There was a power outage about an hour ago. Guess the ones with central air had to see what the hell was going on. Warmth probably woke ‘em up…I know it did for Roman and I.”

He motions back to his childhood house behind him where his friend and employee rested, “It’s much better out here right now anyway. Roman went back in as soon as we got the power back. Our last shift was chaotic so I get it. This happens every time spring officially hits though. Look at it as a restart, I guess.”

Ada nods, slow.

She’s been in Laramie since she was nineteen, moving from Rock Springs all on her own.

Ada was no stranger to starting over.

And that’s on Miley Cyrus.

Hanging out like this wasn’t anything entirely new but she definitely forgot that this was a thing.

She can even smell the charcoal smoke from a grill from another house across the street—a few more doors down. The curling of gray swirled from the back of the home up into the night.

“Right.” She almost sighs, leaning off one of her hands to pluck the ironport from his hand, cautiously taking a sip before handing it back with a grimace, “…Still don’t like that.”

Ledger laughs, “What? Laramie or the soda?”

She blinks at him.

He dips his head at her, staring at her from underneath his lashes.

They hold each other’s gaze, and it says enough—about leaving, about coming back, about how neither of them got what they thought they would.

They both had the chance to get out of here, experienced it, with Ledger having a taste of going pro in football like he always dreamed of, to Ada relocating to Texas with a cowboy of her dreams…who she thought would be by her side while she gained opportunities for her aspiring music career…just for it all to go into a tailspin.

Neither of them was determined to let the world swallow them whole.

Not intentionally anyway.

“So…is that why you’re out here? Looking for a restart?” Ada whispered, resting her hand back where it was, then shifts her gaze up to the few specs of stars.

She knows the weight Ledger carries. The way it shows up when the night gets like this. Too quiet. How he felt like he missed out on too much and he wanted to start making up for it. Making up for time lost. Ada spent many evenings listening to him vent when he really needed to.

Ledger shrugs his shoulders, “In some ways, I guess. Not tryna get too deep or anything…my mom used to say people are no different than the seasons. Passing through different stages and sometimes forgetting to be present.”

“Me bumping you with my shoulder isn’t present?” Ada quirks up a brow, a bit of humor in her tone despite the tiredness her body held.

Ledger softly caresses the facial hair on his chin in thought before smiling, “…You could be a linebacker with them shoulders.”

“I am. so sick! of you.” Ada laughed, reaching over to get the glacier-dark blue eyed man into a headlock, who barely fought against her hold, “Say uncle.”

Ledger snorts against her hold, almost going limp against her chest, “I already am one, thank you. You ain’t scaring nobody. Are you not aware what the spring time means? It’s supposed to be about new beginnings and here you are trying to twist my head off like you probably did your dolls growing up.”

That only makes Ada tighten her hold around him, “What I did as a kid is my business.”

See how she didn’t deny it?

Ledger’s seen what her temper looks like even when she’s bored. He’d rather not be the next outlet for it.

She’s been pretty good managing it over the years. But back then? Whew! It was truly something else.

He hated the way some part of him had liked it—how calm she was before she got loud, a warning almost, like a brewing tornado. How little she cared who was listening. That the ones getting the lashes always learned exactly who Ada Paisley is.

That time she cussed Ledger’s ex fiancée, Leah, out especially with her jealousy pouring out when it came to sweet Diem?

Scotty’s daughter, a whole child that he never had the chance to meet?

A grown woman was insecure over the bond he had with his niece?

Red flag.

Ledger would do anything for that little girl.

It was admirable.

The pride in the protection Ada had over him was…special.

Appreciated.

Overall she definitely had no interest hearing his lectures whenever he did steer her from trouble.

Ada picked her battles better now.

Ledger’s large hand tapped against her thigh, “Alright now, quit it.”

“You quit it.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re talkin’ shit.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“Ew.” She lets him go, making him grin in satisfaction as he pushed himself back up, fixing the hood to his hoodie, that was slipping off his head.

He wiggled his head towards her, “I win, loser.”

She could have mushed his face right there.

So she just settles for a glare, leaving Ledger to playfully pout at her, an attempt of appearing puppy-like, leaving her to let out a faux gag and Ledger to suck his teeth.

“…you going back to bed soon?” She suddenly asks once their usual antics seem to fade for now, spotting a few neighbors starting to head in.

Ledger hums, “Eventually, yeah. Why?”

“I’m gonna go on a walk.”

It didn’t matter what time the night fell on. If Ada Paisley couldn’t sleep, then she was roaming the neighborhood.

Ledger blinks at her, noticing the absence immediately. No headphones from the outlet mall she drove almost three hours for—she had a thing about tech being delivered to her place. There was no beat up walkman Ledger and Roman both dragged her for, no ancient portable CD player she got from a tag sale she heard about from two counties over, or the magenta iPod Nano she swore still worked.

Which meant she was letting the earth talk tonight.

Some would say that was the best kind of noise.

Ledger doesn’t question it.

He knew that was one of the few things Ada did to bring on sleep. The sugar had kept him up long enough to see if she’d show.

He could feel the tiredness waving over him now.

He rubs at his eye, “Then get to walkin’.”

“Rude.” Ada scoffs, hopping off the truck, “That’s why I kicked your tires the other day on my way to work.”

“Oh?” Ledger perks up, “You don’t think I have cameras and know every time you disrespect my baby? Charges are being brought up as we speak.”

Ada snorts, “Punk. I was just checking to see if your tires were still intact…considering how old she is. But if you gotta problem with my concern, then pull up. We’re outside.”

Her arms are stretched out wide to show the open space.

“Yeah, we sure are.” Ledger hopped off his orange truck, closing it before stalking over to Ada who tipped her head back to meet his stare. He pinches her chin before steering her in the direction to leave the neighborhood, “Now stop trying to bully me in front of these people and enjoy it.”

Ada lets out a laugh as she allows the turn, feeling the weight of his arm resting along her shoulders, Ledger tugging her safely into his side as they fall into step together.

“Think if we made a pit stop at Grady Mac’s, he’ll serve us a snack for our walk?” Ada glances up at Ledger who takes another swish from the glass bottle.

He dips his head, “Bet it’s his famous dogs.”

Old man Grady did make some mean glizzies and had every condiment you could think of to dress them.

“Ten bucks it’s kabobs.” Ada instigates, a smirk spilling onto her lips.

It was only right she made this a little competition.

Ledger knew better than to bet against her but he couldn’t help but to indulge every time that mischievous glint shined in her eyes.

“Twenty.” Ledger upped the stakes and he notices she doesn’t shake on it.

Ada slips right out underneath his arm, stepping out into the street before swiftly turning on her heels and takes off into a sprint, knees high, crossing to the other sidewalk, her laugh ringing into the air at the spark of silliness.

“Eat my dust, Ward!” She yells over her shoulder, jogging in place, daring him to out run her, which made Ledger frown at the threat.

As if those weren’t fighting words.

He sips at his ironport one last time, eyes settled on her like he’s back on the field, before slowly putting the bottle down on the sidewalk, then lets his legs carry him after her, who squeals at his speed, turning her jog back into a sprint towards the smoke.

No sunrise, no grand escape—just this.

Laughter, friendship, something softer settling between them.

And that was the prettiest of views.

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Lucky for Emma, she had both Saturday and Sunday off but would be right back at PTMC on actual Memorial’s day.

Which was fine with Emma by all means.

A absolute change in pace for her.

It was tradition for her family—like most—to always throw a large shindig. Back home in Sault Ste. Marie, a cookout was always held at her Grammy’s for as long as Emma can remember. Her Grammy is such a social butterfly that she always tended to invite the entire neighborhood over. The bungalow home that Emma grew up in basically became its own establishment whenever her Grammy decided to throw some type of gathering.

The woman loved to host.

Emma always knew it was so the woman can feel less alone, that way she didn’t have to be haunted by the thought of Emma’s father no longer being with them. They lost him not long into Emma’s junior year in high school.

She remembers her eldest brother, (half-brother if you want to be technical, regardless she didn’t go around adding the “half” part when she spoke of him, despite the obvious difference in physical features…) Issac, picking her up after lunch, fifth period, and she automatically sensed something was wrong. He wouldn’t tell her anything until he put his car in park outside of Grammy’s.

Issac, as thee big brother was always blunt when it came to anything but also quietly protective.

Mental health was hardly ever talked about enough. Especially in the Nolan household, however Emma always saw the signs with their father. Him being a veteran never erased what was within. In fact, it probably made it worse. It was the kind of grief that always lingered and curled around every holiday, birthday, they chose to celebrate him.

“Puddle doesn’t listen, she’s too in the clouds.” She hears, Kylian, her other brother say from her left side, snickering to himself and just as Emma is turning her gaze from the machine that spins sky blue cotton candy, she’s elbowed to the side.

Forcefully.

It’s a force she’s used to, growing up with heavy-handed brothers that taught her how to get scrappy fast. Since Emma’s caught off guard by Kylian’s typical obnoxious ways in this moment, her ankles cross over each other while she scrambled to catch her footing.

Kylian’s booming laugh fills the air, Emma picks up on their sister-in-law, Juliette, who walks hand-in-hand with Issac dramatically gasp, while Emma fumbled along, her body flinging into someone’s back.

Emma stays folded forward for a second, embarrassment blazing hot across her cheeks as she hears the person curse, followed by the pink lemonade that slips over the rim of their cup.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” Emma profusely apologizes, hands raised towards the person who slowly turns around on their heels with a death stare.

She finds herself quickly blinking, heart racing, already assuming this would go one of two ways. And honestly she prayed that it didn’t turn into the worst possible outcome.

“…Butterfly birthday girl?”

Emma feels her brows coming together as she awkwardly stands up straight now.

“Um…how do you know about that?”

A snort from you is heard over the music that pulsates somewhere in the distance. Your finger points around the now almost empty cup you’re still holding onto.

“Damn. I can’t be that forgettable can I?” You quiz with a quirk up of your brow that holds a vertical piercing, “You would think the person that got influenced with a tattoo selection for their twenty-first birthday would remember me.”

Emma’s mouth drops open before her hands go up to cover them, a laugh bursts out before she can stop it. “Oh my gosh! Sorry! Again. Hi! I didn’t recognize you. You look a little different—a good different.”

Your lips hold onto a smirk now as the girl tries to find words that don’t offend you.

“A lot can happen in two months apparently,” you joke, “Like only having two sips of tasty pink lemonade before it’s pushed out your hands by the same brown eyed beauty you once met at a tattoo and piercing shop.”

Emma lightly shakes her head, tossing a glare over at Kylian who’s whispering to Issac and Juliette who are also watching this scene unfold, “Y-yeah. Sorry about that. My idiot brother pushed me with his hockey wing arms. Guess he has something to prove since he never made the football team.”

A laugh falls from your lips while Emma widens her eyes, “Ms. Brown eyes has some bite to her, I see.”

“That was a little mean.” Emma admits with a exhale, earning a shrug from you, “I have to have healthy reactions to things that irritate me, definitely when it comes to Ky.”

It’s your turn to frown, “Screw that. You’re still human. Although brother’s are meant to be annoying and love to use you are their own personal wrestling dummies, yes he’s obviously just messing around, but you have the right to tell him to knock it off. But also maybe a little thankful since we got to meet again, Nurse Emma.”

A slow smile spreads over her face and also at the fact that you remembered her name. It still shocked her to this day that you took a seat near her at the shop and casually sparked up a conversation.

It felt like high school, where you were probably part of the cool kids and Emma was just…Emma with her small goofy group of friends.

She holds out her hand before testing out your name to make sure she remembered, “…that’s one way to look at it. Can I…buy you another lemonade?”

Emma’s grip is firm but warm against yours as she holds eye contact with you.

You give her a nod, “I’d like that. As long as you try one of those rice bowls with me.”

“Sure.” Emma perks up, “…are you here alone?”

It’s on the tip of Emma’s tongue to encourage you to bring whoever you came with to tag along, since she already figures her family we’re gonna invite themselves.

Your head tilts to the side, “Not anymore.”

Oh.

The way you’re looking at her does make Emma’s stomach flutter in ways she thought she had when she first met her ex-boyfriend back in Michigan.

The waiting chairs that sat along the front windows and followed in the shape of an upside down L of Skin & Story creaked whenever Emma slightly shifted her weight. She’s been sitting for maybe over twenty minutes, in a red-orange dress, back against the Ruby wall as she kept her eyes trained on the sketches the artist handed over to her. Emma messed around with the beaded bracelets that decorated her small wrist, nerves getting the best of her that the two fruity cocktails she indulged in couldn’t keep her at ease.

This wasn’t her first tattoo but this one would be more detailed. She originally thought about a bouquet of flowers. It’s what she had been staring at that the artist had sketched up for her. Emma always loved flowers. Helped her Grammy tend gardens every spring and summer, had pressed petals between romance novel pages, and memorized her mother’s favorites. Emma even worked in a floral shop in high school. Flowers were always meant to be comforting, loving, happy. The saying, “Give someone their flowers while they’re here to enjoy them.” Always stuck with her. She was graduating in a few months and Emma already told everyone what type of bouquet she was expecting. It only made sense for her to have florals forever on her skin but her gut seemed to be telling her otherwise.

“You’re thinking hard over here.” A voice makes her jump, turning to see you sitting two chairs over, calm as ever. You sent her a wave to show that you mean no harm.

“I-uh. Yeah I am. My brother dared me to get something, which I agreed to but he’s definitely not picking for me. He’s back there now actually.”

You hum, “His mistake in not letting you go first. Now he’s got you out here overthinking. Amateur.” You wink, humor in your tone as you wiggle out your fingers for the device Emma’s gripping onto tightly, “May I?”

Emma hands over the tablet, watching as your eyes move all over the options. “Everyone knows I love flowers and they symbol positivity even during dark times. I just don’t know if it’s right for my birthday, if this is what I should go for.”

“Then don’t do it. If you’re not a hundred percent, store it for later or forget about it.” - “I still want a tattoo though. Especially since Ky’s gonna pay for it.” - “Okay then. What do you want?” - “Something more meaningful for this point in my life.” - “Where are you?” - “About to graduate nursing school. Which was super hard but I’m so proud of myself. I finally feel purposeful after spending so much of my life fighting uphill. I feel like a butterfly ready to spread her wings.”

A smile greets your lips as you listen to the bright-eyed birthday girl. “You like butterflies?” - “Yeah, they can be super pretty. My dad…while everyone calls me puddle…He called me papillon. Which is French for butterfly. I think it’s because I was obsessed with that one Mariah Carey album. I also think she was his celeb crush or something but when he was home from tour, we’d sit on my Grammy’s back porch and he’d play it. He always had a story about one of the tracks. I think he missed my mom a lot. She’s been in and out of our lives for some time which is why we were raised by my Grammy. My mom…my mom is a woman of French-Caribbean roots. Last I heard she went back home.”

You didn’t judge, just listened intently while this complete stranger with a bedazzled 21 tiara sat in her dark curly hair. When Emma talked about memories, there was a glint in the left of her ink colored eyes. It was adorable and it showed when she looked back at you, questioning what you’re staring at.

“Happy birthday,” you tell the doe eyed girl clicking the tablet off, “Scratch the flowers and float like a butterfly.”

This was not the same.

“Em’s you gonna introduce us to your new friend or continue being rude?” Kylian yells from behind his sister, whose shoulders hunch at his brashness.

She whips around, “How about you learn some manners and apologize for shoving me into them?”

Issac snickers, always enjoying seeing this side of his baby sister snapping at Kylian, who peers back at him and Juliette in mock disbelief.

Then he saunters over, tossing his arm over Emma’s shoulders, tugging her into his stocky frame. “Our little puddle is right. It was wrong of me to push her into you. Please except my humble apology—

“Humble?” Emma pushes her lips out, making you laugh.

Kylian sends her a look, “Yes. I’d never want to harm my baby sister and her new bestie. Please forgive me.”

His hand goes to his chest, lips pouting a bit while you stare at him, long and hard.

Emma’s eyes go wide, flickering back and forth between the two. She spent time knowing how her brother is but she wasn’t aware of your temperament—or if you even have one.

Then you shrug.

“C'est la vie.”

Kylian turns his eyes into slits while Emma beams. He’s slowly trying to connect the dots while she slips out from underneath his arm, just as you nudge your head forward.

“Shall we?” You question Emma, who’s already moving to your side.

“We shall.”

Kylian caressed his sparse facial hair before picking up on the art that decorates the back of Emma’s upper arm. It’s a butterfly floating upwards, almost like the shape of a stethoscope, with black dotted lines that are connected underneath the colorful insect, and right above triangle pointed lines that are to replicate grass holds: C'est la vie written in script.

The middle sibling points and turns back to Issac who nods his head at him, as if he’s already been two steps ahead. Juliette reaches around from Issac to whack Kylian for shoving Emma in the first place and to be quiet for once.

“Emma!” Issac calls out over the crowd as they seem to fall behind the twenty-somethings.

She hears him.

She stops, turning to the man in his late twenties.

Issac makes a phone motion to her, silently telling her to keep it close. That man always needed her to be ready for calls, especially from him. Emma rolls her eyes at this because seriously? Kylian and her resided in Pittsburgh together—were even roommates again for a few months until Emma couldn’t take his gross friends anymore.

Now Issac and Juliette were in town and he seemed to be the only one still making demands—as if Emma wasn’t freshly twenty-one.

That’s just brothers for you.

She dramatically waves her phone that she pulled from the back of her jeans, annoyance clearly on her features as she did so.

Issac, the headstrong firefighter, doesn’t care.

He dips his head as a finality for her to enjoy her time with the you—the stranger from skin & story.

Emma sighs as her eyes remain focused on her phone for a second, making sure her location was on before quickly typing out a message to two separate chats. One to a groupchat and another to one person.

Dr. J (Victoria)📱😊

No way?! This is like fate u know that right? Now I really wish i had today off. Pls give deets later & good luck!

Of course Victoria texted back first.

Once Emma learned that her and Javadi were close in age, they formed a bond at work and outside of it. Even met each other’s friends and filmed a TikTok or two together for each other’s pages. Obviously Victoria had a much bigger following but Emma was just glad to find more friendship outside of Dana, Perlah, and Mel.

Sending a thumbs up as the only reply to Victoria, which Emma already knows she’s gonna get an earful of when they do speak face to face, she tucks her phone into her pocket once again.

“Sorry about my brother’s.” Emma speaks while you toss your head back to finish what’s left of the lemonade.

You peek over at her as you both become one with the festival, “No need. What’s family for if they’re not getting on your nerves? Now…Emma. What’s your favorite protein?”

Emma doesn’t have time to question that since you’re both standing in front of the rice bowl stand that you mentioned earlier. Although there’s still a, “ohhh,” expression on Emma’s face that you can’t help but to smile at.

Emma reminds, “…I’m supposed to be buying you a lemonade first.”

“They have drinks here.” You tell, “You’ll buy the drinks. I’ll get the bowls. Cool?”

“Cool.” Emma toys with her bracelets, doe eyes shimmering, while she peeks at you, your arms almost brushing together.

Emma can’t help but to glance behind and around her, eyes searching the festival that buzzed around them in streaks of squeals from people on rides, laughter from others, music, and the smell of fried food drifting through the late afternoon air.

She spots her family far off to the left, stopping at another food truck, holding onto something that looked more like dessert. Juliette is resting her head along Isaac’s shoulder, arm intertwined with his as he shoved the shared food item into his mouth.

Kylian’s not far from them, blabbing about something until Issac shoves the cup of dessert to their brother’s chest for him to try and to simply shut up.

They’re always close by and for the first time today?

Emma doesn’t feel like she’s being pulled everywhere at once.

Not when she can feel your skin brushing unintentionally against hers.

“Hey.”

Someone taps on Emma’s shoulder, making both of you turn to the person.

It’s a little girl, no more than eight, with pigtails and a front tooth growing back in. She’s holding onto the hand of her mother, who nods her head in encouragement.

“I like your butterfly.” The little girl comments.

Emma smiles down at her, “Thank you so much! I like your braids. I wear mine like that too sometimes.”

“Thank you! My mommy did them for me.”

“She did?!”

“Yeah!”

“My mommy taught me how to braid.” Emma shares before leaning to whisper to the young girl, “Let your mom do them for you as long as you can, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Good,” Emma laughs softly before turning back around.

Your shoulder gently knocks against her’s after a moment, gaining her attention.

“…Think you made the right choice?” You ask, eyes motioning towards the back of her arm.

Emma blinks, holding your stare, “I know so.”

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Spring Love 2026

Renewl

Golden Hour

Cherry Blossoms

Flower crowns

April showers

Thunderstorms

Paris

Tea Party

Mint

Butterflies

Rainy Day

Spring Break

Fairy Garden

picnic

fresh cut grass

Yellow

Photographs

Movie Night

Vintage

Mardi Gras

Night Sky

Cherries

Margarita

Ice Cream

Wonderland

Baseball

Puddles

Bubbles

Scavenger Hunt