#ziggy wc

[eggfeather]

ziggy, victor and riga

[exocynraku]

decided to redo the guys ive already done alphabetically in this teeny guy style

[marmosetpaw]

[polaroidraptor]

Ziggy!

He's part of a gang of kittypets who like to roam and cause trouble in Bramblestar's storm.

This is an old drawing

[noxtms]

+   007   𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  !

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 17: FOREVER & FOR AFTER

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 16 | MASTERLIST | Epilogue (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: SMUT (oral m/f receiving, unprotected sex, praise, teasing, dirty talk), FLUFF (reconnection, personal growth, engagement), mild angst, alcohol mentions, food mentions, irl fire references, links for immersion wc: ~13.4k 💌: this couple has wrecked me. until next time ❤️ song inspo: For Us x dvsn (highly recc listening to feel the vibes)

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly in the empty tunnel, with the occasional drip of rainwater landing somewhere off in the distance. Trent’s hand was intertwined with yours, leading you down to a different area you weren’t all that familiar with.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing at him while he led you down the hall. You pulled at his jacket that was draped over your shoulders to warm you up.

“Dressing rooms,” Trent replied casually. “I just need to grab my stuff. It’ll just be us. Everyone’s gone by now.”

You followed him curiously as the hall opened into a larger space. Trent pushed the door open and held it for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you stepped inside. The energy was still in the air despite no one else being around, it was almost eerie, but you wandered further in, trailing your fingers lazily along the polished benches of the dressing room until you stopped in front of one that made you feel an overwhelming sense of emotions. 

Isaac Y/L/N

You brushed your fingers over the nameplate, frozen in the realization you were having. It was weird seeing your brother’s name in the same dressing room as Trent’s.

The jacket slipped from your shoulders slightly as you sat down in Ziggy’s spot, giving you a clear view of the name Alexander-Arnold across the room. Trent was crouched down in front, going through his bag, but his eyes met with yours when he noticed you staring at him.

“You okay?” He asked carefully while adjusting from his crouch to sit in his seat across from you.

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I’m okay..it’s just weird seeing Z’s name in here. It’s like I blinked and he went from begging my parents to play football to being in the prem.”

Trent leaned forward in his seat, smiling back at you with his hands clasped loosely. “He earned it though. More than most.”

“I know…” you spoke softly, staring back at Trent. “This whole night has been insane honestly.”

Trent stayed quiet while studying your face, but then he leaned back and shifted his expression to a more vulnerable look.

“I almost left,” he said suddenly.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. “What? Left where?”

“Liverpool” Trent clarified. “I almost left Liverpool.”

“Why would you even think about doing that?” you asked, fiddling with the zipper from his jacket hanging over you.

He breathed out slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor before catching yours again. “I didn’t feel right.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “But you’re–”

Trent cut you off, letting out a subdued laugh through a soft breath, void of any humour. “I felt stuck, Y/N. I tried different hobbies, tried throwing myself into football..I even tried dating but nothing worked. It felt like I was just floating. I was moving through everything but nothing was moving through me, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, you weren’t sure if you truly did know, but the vulnerability in Trent’s voice kept you quiet.

“And I thought maybe a new city, new people, something shiny and different would make me feel alive again.” He admitted, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his jaw. “But even just thinking about it made me feel worse.”

You frowned at the thought of it all. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“I tried something else instead.” He glanced up at you with a small smile. “Therapy.”

You blinked in surprise. “Therapy???”

“Yeah,” he responded with a low chuckle. “Mo told me about this therapist...Dr. Ali. She called me out on all my shit, but she helped. A lot.”

Dr. Ali? My Dr. Ali??

Trent went on to describe a technique she used that 100% made you realize it was the same therapist that guided you through your own tangled mess of thoughts. You felt your jaw slack slightly, but you didn’t say anything, too stunned to interrupt him.

“Therapy made me realize I was running away from myself” Trent continued in a quieter voice. “Leaving wasn’t going to fix the fact that I didn’t know who I was without football. Or without…” He trailed off, meeting your eyes to complete his sentence. 

You swallowed hard, staring back into his eyes while your heart pounded against your chest, trying to process what he was saying. You were still stuck on the fact that he’d ever consider leaving, but the coincidence of having the same therapist without knowing it really threw you for a loop.

“I didn’t like it at first but therapy helped me work through a lot of shit even when I thought I did everything I could do here. But it wasn’t just that. Your brother helped me more than he’ll ever know.”

“Ziggy?” you added for clarification, as if you had any other brother besides him.

Trent gave you a soft smile. “Yeah. When he started training with us, he had that same spark he had when he hung around me at the park. He’s taller for sure, but he still looks like a kid next to us. Kind of reminds me of when I first started too.”

Trent’s words pulled at your heartstrings as you looked up at your brother’s nameplate and then back at Trent. “That’s sweet. He really looks up to you, T.”

Trent studied your face, baring into your soul from just a few steps away as he stood up and slowly made his way to you. “One day during a rough day at training, Ziggy gave me the same look you’re giving me right now and I knew I couldn’t leave.”

“What look?” you asked.

“Like you’re wondering if you made the wrong decision because you don’t know what happens next.” He cupped your chin with his warm palm, tilting your head up. He brushed his thumb over the corner of your bottom lip softly. “Like you’re trying to figure out if you should run away or just stay along for the ride.”

Trent’s eyes didn’t leave yours once as he kneeled down beside you, taking your left hand in his palm. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss below the knuckle of your ring finger. “That day, I knew I couldn’t leave. And I’m glad I didn’t because if I did...I wouldn’t be here with you right now. Everything always leads me back to you.”

He wasn’t wrong though. Every wrong turn and every miss had both of you still orbiting around each other, even if it wasn’t visible. You felt fluttering in your chest that spread down to the pit of your stomach. The words Trent intentionally spoke encased you in warmth you weren’t sure you would ever feel again. The memory of the past two years filled with shedded tears, aches of missing him, and nights spent staring at your phone wondering if you should unblock him seemingly faded away like a polaroid in reverse, peeling back darkness until the colors redeveloped to lift the shadows and create an image that was now bathed in sunlight.

“Y/N..” Trent started again after your silence continued. “I’ll knit the threads of fate myself until they spell your name. I love you intentionally and I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you.”

You smiled softly, feeling the corners of your lips tremble as you tilted your head toward him, whispering.

“Then don’t.”

And just like that, neither of you did.

The time that followed felt like stepping into a long lost rhythm. It was natural and easy this time around, feeling entirely new and like a breath of fresh air. Both of you decided to take time and figure out what this version of your relationship would look like by intentionally keeping things private. You only shared with a tightly knit group of family and friends, choosing not to share your rekindling with the world. You didn’t post much on your own social media accounts after the fire, and Trent barely posted on any of his because all the moments he wanted to share were always with you.

Except he still used one account pretty regularly to document something special: Scentimental

The one you still had blocked.

Unbeknownst to you, Trent still used the burner account to document every note he tested while trying to help you finish the fragrance you originally started when you first met him. The one you just couldn’t quite figure out the missing piece to. The memory of the night you vented to him about it replayed in his head constantly. The two of you were lounging on your couch with the TV dimly lighting the room. You started with your head on his lap, but by the time you got so worked up about it, you were sitting upright, motioning your hands around like you were in a meeting.

“I don’t know what to add and it’s pissing me off..” you sighed in frustration. “Everything I’ve tried smells nice, but it’s not it. I want it to smell like how we feel when we’re together. Like–like…”

“Like what?” Trent asked while leaning forward to listen.

You pressed your lips together to try and find the words. “Like warmth. But not the cozy kind. I want it to feel happy, bright, and alive.”

“Like when you wake up the first morning on holiday near the beach?” he suggested with humour in his tone.

You laughed, slightly intrigued but not yet ready to battle with the pride of figuring it out yourself. “Maybe. But not just that. It’s for us so I want it to feel like us. Like everything we’ve ever been through.”

From that day forward, Trent made it his mission to quietly log his attempts on his burner page. You had no idea he was sneaking random bottles into the house, testing scent strips at the training centre or in hotel rooms, each clip tagged with short captions for note taking.

In one video, he wafted a tester strip in front of the camera and sniffed it while frowning. “Smells spicy. Too spicy.” Another clip showed a failed attempt of using a smoky tobacco note. “This shit smells like a cigar lounge. Y/N would hate this.”

One day, he uploaded a final video clip. The view wobbled as Trent adjusted the camera and leaned into the frame holding a vial of gold benzoin liquid he ordered from southeast Asia. “I think this is it” he said while dabbing some of the liquid on his wrist to sniff it. His eyes shut for a few seconds as he took in the notes, and when they opened again, a golden smile spread across his face. “Yeah, this is the one.” He held the vial up to the light, inspecting it with a newfound sense of clarity. “It’s warm and sweet like a honeyed vanilla, but not too strong. It feels like us…like serendipity.” Trent placed the vial on the table with a clink, leaning back in his chair and dragging his fingers over the stubble on his jawline. The camera kept recording as Trent stared off, lost in thought. The faint sounds of outside traffic filled the silence until he let out a quiet sigh, reaching for the hotel notepad on the desk. When the pen hit the paper, the first few lines came slowly as he crafted the words that were running through his head for a long time. His handwriting was a bit messier by the time he hit the third line, spilling out his thoughts faster than his hand could keep up with.

When he finally finished, he held the paper in front of him and read it back to himself with a faint crease in his brow, then he ripped it from the pad, carefully folding it and tucking it into his pocket with a soft chuckle. Trent glanced at the camera again, twitching his lips into an awkward smile. “Alright, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before continuing again. “I’m pretty sure this is it.” He picked up the vial of benzoin and rolled it between his palms before setting it back down. “But now it’s on me to do the other part.”

He paused hesitantly, but then continued. “I’m gonna ask Y/N to marry me.”

Trent fiddled with the pen in his hand, looking away from the camera as he took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages and I’ve had this ring–” He stopped himself, laughing in a self-deprecating way. “I don’t even wanna say how long I’ve had it because it’s embarrassing but it’s just…”

His voice grew smaller again, as he glanced at the vial again before speaking. “It’s mad, innit? She’s my person. I know it..I’ve always known it. But now that it’s actually time to ask her, I’m bricking it.” Trent blinked up at the ceiling as his eyes became glossed with tears. He took a deep exhale through his nose. “What if she says no though? Then what?” he whispered more to himself than to the camera, but then he shook his head like he was trying to shake the thought. “Nah. Nah. She won’t say no. She can’t say no. We’ve come too far, right?”

Trent laughed quietly, wiping his thumb discreetly under his eye. “I sound like one of those lads in the Love Island confessionals right now. Why am I speaking to a camera about this?” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. After another stretch of silence, he looked directly into the camera with a face that can only be described as terrified, but very deeply in love.

“I just hope she says yes” he said softly with a hesitant smile, tapping his finger over his screen to end the recording before he could get any more emotional about it. The weeks that mirrored the videos he posted were filled with small, but intentional steps to build your forever. While Trent was secretly testing notes, the two of you were creating memories to match, each one more beautiful than the last.

One night, after the twins said they’d be out late, you and Trent decided to seize the rare opportunity to spend a quiet night together. The two of you lounged in the bonus room upstairs, which was mostly meant to be a ‘man cave’ for Ziggy, but somehow turned into a more communal space for everyone in the house. You had a blanket draped over your lap, ready to watch a show called Giri/Haji – a Japanese-British crime drama you knew he’d love.

“What’s this about again?” he asked as the show started playing.

You cuddled up next to Trent, giving him the rundown as the Netflix sound played. “It’s about this detective named Kenzo who’s trying to find his brother in London but it’s not the typical cop drama. It has all these family dynamics and it switches between Japanese and English. Trust me, it’s good.”

“I trust you.” Trent chuckled, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you. Neither of you paid attention for long. Somewhere between the opening scenes and Kenzo’s arrival in London, Trent’s hands slipped under the blanket draped over you, tracing slow, lazy patterns on your thigh, edging higher and higher until you shivered, but not from being cold.

“Trent…” you whispered, trying to sound stern, but the minute his lips grazed over your neck you lost all composure.

“Mm?” he murmured while his fingers fully explored the curves and crevices of your body.

You tilted your head back, moaning softly. “I want you so bad right now…”

Trent grinned against your skin, stamping his words on your neck. “C’mere then.” Just as his lips crashed into yours, footsteps thudded up the stairs. You didn’t hear any of it between the noise of the TV and your thoughts drifting in and out of a lust filled haze.

“Hey!” Ziggy’s voice boomed through the staircase. “We’re ba–”

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, yanking the blanket higher so he wouldn’t see where Trent’s hands currently were.

“I fucking knew it!” he exclaimed, turning the lights back on with a lot of dramatics. “You’re both disgusting. Is this what you do when we’re gone? Out in the open?? Right in front of my bedroom???”

“Get out!” you glared at your brother while Trent discreetly fixed your clothing. 

“Nah, I’m staying” Ziggy answered smugly, plopping his body directly between the two of you on the couch.

Trent sighed heavily, running his hand over his face because the twins cockblocking your alone time was becoming increasingly more common. “Bro, don’t you have something better to do?”

“Nope, not really,” Ziggy replied with a grin, grabbing controllers from his gaming setup. “Mario Kart, anyone?” Much to your dismay, Ezzie appeared a few minutes later, holding a bag of snacks with a grin. “Sorry to interrupt. Mind if I squeeze in?” She flopped on the couch next to Ziggy with her own controller, creating a twin barricade.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning out of frustration. “Why are you both here? You said you were going to be out late!”

Ezzie shrugged, popping some snacks into her mouth. “Change of plans. The vibe at the club was off. So…are we playing or what?”

Trent gave you a smirk as he grabbed two controllers and handed one to you, making you roll your eyes in playful annoyance. Despite the twins’ precise interruptions, your nights with Trent were still full of lots of love and quiet moments for connection. The time you spent with him was the happiest you’d ever been. When Trent had more time off from football, you explored some of the world’s most beautiful, hidden corners. 

In the Dominican Republic, you found yourselves in the secluded beauty of Playa Ermitaño in Samaná. The journey to get there was its own adventure and included boarding a tiny boat that skidded across the Caribbean water and past lush green cliffs that jutted out of the sea. You teased Trent the whole way, watching him clutch the side of the boat every time it rocked too hard against a wave.

“Not a fan of the ride, are you?” you asked, laughing just as another small splash hit his face.

“The boat could be bigger, no? I feel like I’m gonna slip off!” he yelled out, gripping the railing tighter when a bigger wave hit.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, tugging on his arm to pry him off the railing. “Relax baby. We’re fine. It’s not that deep.”

“Literally or figuratively? Cause both are mad for you to say to me right now.” he muttered while gripping the railing as another wave rocked the boat.

By the time you reached the shore, the sight of the beach was enough to make him forget the ride. The sand was soft, white, and stretched into a crescent shape, framed by tall cliffs and thick greenery. The water was clear enough to see coral reef down below, and the only sounds were the small lap of waves and occasional rustle of palm trees swaying in the breeze. A small group of locals greeted you with smiles, offering you plates of traditional food like grilled fish in banana leaf and fried plantains. After your meal, you coaxed Trent into a calm and shallow edge of water near the shore. He stepped in hesitantly, keeping close to where his feet could touch the sand.

“So you’re really not going to swim?” you asked, floating just a few doggy paddles away.

“I’m in the water. That’s swimming, yeah?” he argued, gesturing around him like standing in waist deep water counted as swimming.

“No..you’re wading. There’s a difference.” You swam closer, kicking your legs as you leaned forward to rest your hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry, T. I’ll save you if a Caribbean mermaid pulls you under.”

“Baby..don’t even joke like that” he muttered, staring at the saltwater clinging to your skin. Something about the way the sunlight glistened off your wet skin caught his attention even more, and his hands found your waist under the water, pulling you closer while you wrapped your legs around him. “You look so sexy in this bikini baby. Need to take it off of you.” His voice dropped to a tone only you could hear as he brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth.

“Do you?” you whispered back teasingly, grinning while your hands trailed from his shoulders to the back of his neck. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned up against a shallow rock, hidden from view by the cliffs and the water lapping at your thighs. You broke apart when you heard some laughter from another group arriving on the beach and Trent groaned, resting his lips on your neck. “Saved by the tourists” you teased while smoothing your hand over his damp curls. You pushed off of him and back into the water as he watched you swim away with amused and slightly frustrated smile on his face.

In Greece, you explored more secluded islands that felt like old Greece. These trips weren’t the Mykonos and Santorini tourist spots you saw on every influencer’s feed. Instead, you hopped around small slices of paradise like Lipsi and Donoussa where the locals and village cats outnumbered the visitors, and luxury yachts were far and few between.

After a day of wandering around cobblestone streets, you found yourselves in a taverna tucked behind a row of olive trees. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of lemon and oregano from the kitchen as the two of you sat under the glow of hanging lights above you, drinking ouzo and laughing like you were the only two people that existed in the world.

“You’re gonna hate this” Trent grinned, holding up his glass of ouzo.

You tilted your head, confused. “What? Why? It tastes fine to me.”

“Nah, not that. What I’m about to say..” he replied, grinning while leaning back in his chair. Trent gestured around the taverna, swishing the ouzo in his glass. “The food, the drinks, the old man who just served us like we’re his family..it’s nice, innit? Good vibes.”

You narrowed your eyes, cutting your eyes at him as you caught on. “What are you on about?”

“I’m saying we could live here” Trent’s smile grew wider. “Just drop everything and buy a house in a little village with whitewashed walls. You could make perfumes from olives or something. I’ll teach kids football and...uh..I don’t know? Fish or something.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “T.. you can barely swim and I don’t think olive tree perfume is a thing.”

“Not yet,” he countered with a smirk. “But if anyone can make it a thing, it’s you. And I don’t have to swim that far. I’ll just catch some little fish for dinner. Bare hands.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his nonsense. “Mhmm. And I’ll sell my olive perfumes to the two tourists that accidentally end up here every year.”

“Yeah, exactly.” he nodded like you just made his point. “The simple life. Just us. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

As ridiculous as the idea sounded, that little life sounded intriguing, even if it wasn’t all that possible. You looked at his softly illuminated face over the rim of your glass as his smile curved into something just as bright as the Mediterranean sun.

“You would go mad after two weeks” you teased.

“Yeah.. probably,” he admitted, laughing. “But it’d be a good two weeks.”

You smiled, leaning forward to rest your chin on your hand as you stared at him. “I think I like this little life we’re building though. Even if it’s not here.” 

And just like that – the ouzo, the sea breeze, and the little taverna existed just for the two of you.

Eventually, you finally made your way to the villa in St. Barts you were supposed to travel to around the time Les Notes d’Amour burned down. It looked like paradise, but calling it paradise might’ve been a little unfair to Trent, who was sprawled out on the bed, completely wrecked and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for some type of intervention after the multiple rounds you had.

“I can’t baby. I’m finished,” he muttered in a tired voice.

You were on top of him, not taking his answer seriously. “T, you said that last time and then you started it up again.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure this time.” 

The two of you explored every crevice of the villa in ways that could never make it to any booking listing the moment you arrived. The outdoor shower with the view of the ocean was the first stop, followed by the pool deck, the plush couch in the main lounge, against the trunk of a palm tree, over the balcony, and finally the bed in the master suite. Not to mention the quick detour against the marble counter in the bathroom before your dinner reservations, or the quickie you had bent over the outdoor kitchen area. But still, you were insatiable somehow.

“I need more,” you pleaded, running your nails down his chest.

Trent groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Baby, you drained me dry, literally. There’s nothing left. You won..I concede. Throw in the white flag or whatever you want me to do.”

You pouted, jutting your bottom lip out while leaning closer to brush your lips against his ear. “You don’t have anything left for me?”

Trent peeked at you from his hand and the guilty look on his face made you giggle. He was a mess with a sheen of sweat covering his upper body, and a look in his eyes that said he would if he could, but he really couldn’t. “Baby..I swear if I had anything left you’d get it.” he promised in a soft voice. “But you tapped me out. I can’t even get it up anymore, I tried. I’m fucking knackered.”

You sighed, shifting to lay on his chest while his fingers trailed down your back. “Do you think it would be any different if we came here when we were supposed to?” you asked in a muffled voice against his skin.

Trent wrapped his arm around you to hold you closer. “Nahhh..it wouldn’t have felt like this.”

You lifted your head to meet his eye. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we weren’t us then. Not like this, anyway.” He paused to kiss your forehead. “This feels right. Like it was lined up the way it was meant to.”

“You’re too sweet. I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes you do, Y/N,” he replied with no hesitation. “You deserve all of this, and I’m gonna spend every day making sure you know it.” You smiled, tracing your first initial, adding ‘AA’ at the end on his chest absentmindedly. You were finally thinking about it, but you didn’t know if you were ready for it. Every holiday you went on, you thought he may finally pop the question, but he never did. It didn’t bother you all that much, you were enjoying spending quiet moments alone with him – even if you were daydreaming about marrying him increasingly more often. You looked back up at Trent, who was now passed out after his exhaustion caught up to him. You stayed there, pressing your ear against his chest as the rhythm of his heartbeat created melodies with the crash of ocean waves from the shore, lulling you to sleep. You were comfortable, even if neither of you put an official title on what was next – every holiday, late night convo, and quiet minutes spent together felt like steps forward.

A few months later, you and Trent were seated at a conference table for a meeting with your architect as you stared at a huge blueprint of your future home. 

“Alright, so I was thinking this area here," Trent said, tapping on the living room section with his finger, “should be open enough to add a trophy display. Something with lights and glass. I want it to be the first thing people see when they walk in.”

You squinted at the plans with a frown creeping on your face. “A trophy area? Are you serious? In the living room like a museum??”

“Nah, it’s not a museum baby.” Trent looked somewhat offended that you were shooting his suggestion down. “Where else am I supposed to put my Ballon d’Or when I win it?”

You couldn’t help it; the laugh burst out of you. “Riiight, because that’s right around the corner.”

Trent snapped his head to you, smirking while also giving you a glare. “When I win, you’ll be the one polishing it.”

“Um, no. I’m not your maid.” You shook your head and leaned forward to study the plans again. “And if you get to have a space for your trophies, then I’m getting a fragrance room. You don’t need a whole room to hold a few trophies.”

“A few?” he repeated in an offended tone. “I have more than a few and I’ll be getting loads more.”

The architect, a patient older man with greying hair, was listening to all of your bickering but he eventually cleared his throat to intervene. “Maybe we can consider a multipurpose space? Something that can display his awards but also house other elements like art or personal collections?”

“Or fragrances” you interjected with a cheeky grin, knowing Trent was probably rolling his eyes next to you.

“Fine,” Trent dramatically sighed, leaning back in his chair. “As long as the gym stays. I need that for work.”

You scoffed as you eyed the massive size of the home gym on the blueprint. “Trent.. you literally train at AXA every day. You don’t need a huge gym at home too.”

“Yeah, but AXA doesn’t have you walking around in leggings and tiny tops” he smirked, making you playfully shove him. “I need enough mirrors in there so I can see that.”

“Flirting with me isn’t going to change my mind” you countered back while trying to hide the smile creeping up on your face.

The architect stepped in again and shifted the conversation back to something more practical. “We can scale the gym down a bit and allocate the space for a nursery in the future? Or a dual purpose area?” 

The mention of a nursery made both of you go quiet. You looked at Trent, who had a soft expression on his face. “Yeah... a nursery. I like that idea.”

You took a deep breath, not sure if you were ready to start prepping for babies that didn’t exist yet, so you switched the conversation back to the gym to mask the emotions you felt. “You’re just lifting weights, T. I don’t get why you need a gym here.”

Trent leaned in closer to you, smirking as he loudly whispered in your ear. “You don’t complain when I have to lift you up and help you when you get tired on top.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you whispered back just as loud, trying to hide the secondhand embarrassment you got from your man mentioning that in front of some greying old man. The architect coughed into his hand, pretending he didn’t hear anything, but you knew he probably heard it all.

After what felt like hours of going back and forth – arguing over color schemes (you vetoed Trent’s suggestion of an all grey scheme), kitchen appliances (he insisted he needed an espresso machine even though he barely drank coffee), and the location of the dining room (closer to the garden was your compromise) – you finally reached an agreement that put a smile on everyone’s face.

The architect made note of the updates with a satisfying nod. “I think we finally have a solid plan here. You’ll both be very happy.”

You leaned back in your chair, looking over at Trent who was taking pictures of the plan with his phone. “You know…” you tapped your fingers on the table, ready to egg him on from all the terrible design ideas he had. “I could probably just buy you out of your contract with how much money I make now from Rêveur. Then you wouldn’t need a gym at all..”

Trent shook his head, laughing at you. “You think you’re that rich, huh?”

“Baby…” you grinned smugly. “I know I am.”

He laughed, reaching to hold your hand. “Good thing I’m with you then. Got a sugar mama already in case shit goes south.”

“Absolutely the fuck not” you argued back while the architect packed up his things.

When the meeting wrapped, you looked over plans one last time, imagining what it would look like when it was finally done. It wasn’t just any house anymore. This was a home – yours, his, and maybe someday, a little more.

Another night on a full moon, you and Trent found yourselves at Lovebirds – a favorite escape whenever Trent managed to carve free time out of his busy schedule. But eventually, going there turned into a monthly ritual. The restaurant was silent except for the occasional clink of a pan in the kitchen. Trent booked it out just for the two of you and your favorite chef who made you her official guinea pigs for experimental dishes she wanted to add to the menu.

“Okay, lovebirds” she called from the kitchen, her voice carried over your date night playlist you asked her to play over the sound system. “You’re on dish duty tonight. You can’t keep getting off this easily if you’re going to keep me here all night. I don’t care if he’s a footballer.”

You smirked at Trent as the chef appeared with a tray of ingredients. “Think you can handle it, T? Or are you going to burn something again?”

“First of all, that was ONE time. You can’t blame me for that, the oven timer was way off.”

The chef laughed while setting the tray down. “The oven timer was fine, Trent. You were just too busy staring at Y/N to notice your soufflé collapsing and burning to a crisp.”

You laughed loudly, watching Trent shake his head. He wouldn’t admit it was his fault, but he was supposed to be on oven duty that night. “She’s lying” he said while nudging your knee under the table.

“She’s not” you teased, standing up to pull him with you to the open kitchen. “Let’s see if you can redeem yourself baby.” The chef handed you each a spoon and started yelling instructions like you were both her actual employees, though she wasn’t being all that serious and was more amused than anything. The night’s experiment was a roasted aubergine spread with pomegranate molasses.

“Mix it slowly Y/N” the chef instructed. “And Trent, chop those herbs really fine. No big chunks…got it?”

“Yes, Chef” you both said in unison as you got to work. You were concentrating, but when you eyed Trent’s attempts at chopping the herbs ‘fine’, you giggled. “T, those aren’t fine. You barely chopped those.”

He held up his uneven pile of herbs. “I did chop them. It’s….rustic. You’ll love it.” 

“It’s lazy” you retorted while reaching over to take the knife from him. “Here, I’ll show–”

Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Trent snatched the spoon from your bowl and dipped it into the aubergine spread you were mixing after quickly adding the herbs. “T! That’s not ready yet!” 

Trent couldn’t care any less and popped the spoon into his mouth, humming dramatically. “Nah, it’s good. Perfect even. Probably because I chopped the herbs.” You groaned but couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you swatted his arm. The chef laughed from the other side of the counter, muttering under her breath about how hopelessly in love the two of you were.

A few minutes later, you leaned over to taste the spread, licking the side of your spoon and catching some of the sauce on your lip without realizing it. Trent noticed instantly and leaned in close with a playful look in his eyes. 

“Don’t move” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your lip.

You froze and your eyes snapped to him as he leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, very intentionally. When he pulled back, he swept his tongue across his lips like he was savoring the taste.

“What was that for?” you asked a little breathier than intended.

“You had sauce on your lip” Trent said nonchalantly, going back to his chopping like nothing happened.

You frowned, touching your lip. “No, I didn’t.”

He smirked without looking up. “Yeah.. you did.”

The chef yelled from the other side of the kitchen to interrupt your little moment. “If you two are done flirting now, I’d like to eat before the next full moon!” You smiled, turning back to the spread while Trent was still smirking with his eyes dancing over to yours every couple of minutes. By the time you sat down to eat, the aubergine spread was perfect, even with all the distractions. The chef declared it her new favorite and sent you home with a jar of it as a thank you for being her “favorite disaster couple.”

All the memories you spent with Trent stayed fresh in your mind, but time waited for no one, and before you knew it – Camille’s wedding day was here. There were months of planning, fittings, reasoning with her through bridezilla meltdowns, and trying to talk her out of a custom drone show for the occasion. When you finally arrived at the countryside venue, you had to admit her and Jules really outdid themselves.

As the maid of honour, you stood by Camille’s side through every meticulously timed minute of the ceremony, dressed in an elegant sage gown – because apparently laurel wasn’t the move anymore. You focused on Camille for the most part, but you felt the unmistakable pull from Trent’s presence somewhere in the crowd of people. You didn’t dare look at him directly, but you could feel his eyes on you like a magnet. Having Trent there didn’t make you as nervous, even as Camille whispered a frantic “don’t cry or you’ll make me cry and our pictures will be ruined” under her breath. 

You were a crier at weddings. 

A big one.

The ceremony moved in slow motion as every vow and violin string stretched the minutes. You were so focused on not crying that by the time Camille and Jules finally kissed and the applause came, you let out a deep breath and caught yourself glancing toward Trent for the first time. He wasn’t clapping; his hands were resting in his lap, but his face held a certain look of love that made you want to be next to him immediately. The entire time he was never focused on Camille and Jules – his eyes were on you.

Hours later, the reception party popped off with a bang. Drinks were flowing in every corner and people on the dance floor were having the time of their lives rapping along to a Kendrick Lamar song Jules just had to have the DJ play. You successfully delivered your speech afterwards with a little liquid courage and managed to not trip over your words or burst into tears which was a win in itself. At some point, Camille insisted on you joining the bouquet toss despite not wanting to participate at all. You were drunk off your ass and too busy trying to act as normal as possible. When she threw it you weren’t even paying attention. One minute you were laughing at something Jules’ cousin said, and the next – the bouquet smacked you in the chest before you even had time to realize what was happening, catching it in your arms instinctively. Everyone in the reception area cheered for you and Camille squealed from across the room.

“It’s a signnn!” she yelled while clapping, which sobered you up instantly.

“Of course this would only happen to me” you muttered under your breath, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt from all the attention. People at the wedding knew you and Trent were exes at one point, but no one but a few knew you had been back together for a long while. You were hoping no one would catch on.

Later, you found Trent grinning ear to ear while sitting at a table off to the side in a quiet corner. “Didn’t know you were so competitive” he teased as you sat down beside him.

“I wasn’t even trying!” you argued while holding the bouquet up. “This thing attacked ME. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, sure...” he dragged the words out with a sly smirk. “The bouquet jumped out of Camille’s hands and landed in yours. Unless you have powers like Matilda, I don’t know about that, baby.” You rolled your eyes because that’s exactly what happened, but then you started laughing – courtesy of the champagne you had in your other hand.

The night kept going until you and Trent ended up on the balcony in the cool night air. The venue’s garden stretched out below, bathed in the moonlight as you leaned against the railing. Trent was next to you, nursing his own glass of champagne because he was way too drunk for his own good.

“You know what this means now, right?” he asked, keeping his eye on you.

“What means what?” You squinted at him in confusion.

“The bouquet” he gave you a pointed look. “You caught it, so now I have to marry you.”

You snorted, turning to face him fully. “So that’s how this works? A bridal bouquet decides my entire future?”

“Tradition is tradition.” Trent set his champagne down on a decorative table and drunkenly dropped to one knee.

“T..what are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Fulfilling our destiny” he slurred, holding your hand up like he was ready to decorate it with an invisible ring. “Y/N, will you –”

“Get up!” you cut him off, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Baby, you’re sooo drunk right now.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts” He dropped his voice as he stood up to slide his free arm around your waist while the other still held on to your hand.

“You’re going to be embarrassed when I tell you about this tomorrow morning” you giggled, tilting your head a little as his lips drunkenly trailed your skin with soft, lazy kisses.

“You have no idea” he kissed your neck again, but this time his next words were very slurred and too indecipherable. “I’m planning it all right now and you have no idea.”

A couple months later, Trent sat at Camille’s dining table, resting his hands on both sides of a small custom box he couldn’t stop messing with. Camille was sitting in her chair drinking a smoothie filled with vitamins now that her wine drinking days were temporarily retired. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to ask her. I didn’t have that on my bingo card this year” she teased while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The man who takes forever to make decisions is finally going to propose to my best friend?” 

Trent leaned back in the chair, running a hand down his face in annoyance. “Are you going to help me or just chat shit the whole time I’m here?”

“Both” Camille replied frankly, smirking and folding her arms. “Why do you look so nervous?”

Trent hesitated while tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m scared shitless. What if she’s not ready?”

Camille laughed as she took another small sip of her smoothie. “If you wait until she’s completely ready you’ll be proposing when you’re both dead. Y/N is never going to give you a sign that says ‘hey i’m ready now’. But I’m sure she’ll say yes..I’ve seen her Pinterest boards.”

“Pinterest? She has wedding stuff saved?”

Camille nodded. “She’s fully planned out your lives for the next 5 years. Just don’t do anything stupid like big balloons in a hotel room or writing it on a plate with chocolate. She’ll definitely say no if you do that.”

“Nah, none of that. I already planned it out.”

“Oh?” Camille inquired, leaning forward. “What’s your plan, dreamer boy?”

Trent cut his eyes at Camille as he pulled out a notebook that looked like it saw better days at some point in time. “How do you know about that name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Camille laughed, leaning forward curiously.

Trent flipped to a page covered in lots of scribbles, some crossed out and others underlined with confirmation. “I gotta finish this fragrance she was working on when we first met,” he explained. “I want to add benzoin. It reminds me of us whenever I smell it.”

Camille smiled in awe from the amount of intention he placed in preparing this for you. “You really thought all this through, huh?”

He nodded, closing the notebook. “I need your help bottling it though. It has to be perfect for her.”

“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” she tried to tease, but her lash line was watering and threatening to spill over.

“Nah, not me. I want it to be right. You’re the only other person I trust with this besides her.” Trent admitted while sliding a custom box toward her. When Camille opened it, there were three cutouts, each engraved with celestial symbols – the sun, moon, and an eclipse. Trent carefully placed a bottle of Rêveur into the sun’s slot, then he placed a bottle of Vanille Étoilée he took from your personal collection in the moon’s cut out. Trent handed Camille a third bottle he designed for the new fragrance.

“It’s called Serendipité,” he added in a low tone.

Camille traced the bottle’s engraving with her thumb and then looked up at Trent. “And where is all of this happening?”

“Maui” Trent answered quickly. “Long flight but it’ll be worth it for her.”

Camille cocked her eyebrow. “That’s super far...why Maui?”

Trent rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a long winded breath. “It’s the best place on earth for us to watch the sun set and the moon rise. And it’s calm. No one will bother us there.”

Camille blinked a few times as her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, waving her hands in front of her face like it would stop her tears from spilling over.

“Whoa..what did I say?” Trent asked, confused at why she suddenly broke into tears. 

Camille dabbed at her eyes, sighing with a watery laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just.. I’ve never seen this part of your relationship with her. You’re so nervous and thoughtful about it and it’s–” She paused, biting her lip as another wave of tears erupted. “She’s so happy Trent. And I’m so glad you both finally got it right. That’s all. Don’t mind me.”

“Camille…”

“Don’t” she pointed at him through her tears. “Do not make me cry any more than I already am. I’m all over the place right now. Just take care of her okay? You already are, but keep it up.”

Trent nodded, giving Camille a side hug. “Always.” Camille took a deep breath, wiping away the rest of her tears as she took the bottle and added the last note. “And make sure her nails are done before you ask or she’s going to kill you.” 

Trent laughed, reaching for the box as Camille slid the finished bottle across the table. “Got it. Thanks for the heads up.” He placed the final bottle into its spot in the box. Camille absentmindedly placed a hand over the small bump appearing on her stomach, hesitating before she finally spoke up.

“You two can’t keep going on holiday around the world like this. I’m gonna need my best friend for moral support and both of you as babysitters a few months from now.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just focus on your proposal, dreamer boy” Camille cut him off with a smile, still protectively cradling her small baby bump.

--

As time ticked by, you got closer to your forever, but you would have never guessed the way it came.

Trent insisted on pampering you one day, so you sat in the nail salon, scrolling through your phone for nail ideas as Ezzie gandered at the wall of polishes. She was always quicker than you when it came to choosing – you could sit there for hours trying to choose between two options. Which was why you were still sitting with sample swatches fanned out in front of you, paralyzed by indecision.

“I don’t think you should go with summer colors” Ezzie broke through the tip taps of you on your phone. She squinted at one of the options in front of her.

“What? Why not? You told me summer pastels were in right now!” You held up the sample swatches so she could see them. “You don’t like any of these? What about ‘Sucre Dreamer’? That’s a cute nail color!”

Ezzie made a face. “I mean it is cute...but I think you should try something different.” She wanted to throw you off as much as possible so you wouldn’t suspect anything. “Try this one instead.” She grabbed a bottle of polish from the wall, a soft nude that complimented your skin tone well. She flipped the bottle over to show the name, making her face light up. “It’s called ‘Forever and After’. That’s so fitting.”

“Fitting for what? A wedding I’m not having?”

“Nooooo...who said anything about a wedding? That’s madness…” she wanted to sway you away from any sort of engagement or wedding talk. “But I think it’ll look amazing on you. Just trust me on this.”

You looked at her skeptically, but eventually handed the bottle to the nail tech, “Fine but if I hate it, you’re never picking my nail colors again.”

Ezzie sat back down next to you, crossing her legs and smiling while the nail tech added the color to your nails. “You’re gonna love it.”

The color was perfect once it was finally finished, and you weren’t deeping the name like your sister originally thought you would, thankfully. When you stepped out of the salon with Ezzie, you checked your phone. “Trent’s picking us up for brunch at Lovebirds,” you told Ezzie while checking the time. Just as you were about to ring him to let him know you were ready, another car pulled up and the window rolled down to reveal Jude’s smiling face, but he was in the driver’s seat this time.

“Ladies..”

“About damn time! You’re late!” Ezzie announced with an annoyed tone as she hopped into the passenger seat. She leaned over, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you get everything? Did you get their luggage?”

Jude nodded with a grin and you squinted at them in confusion. “Uh...what is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Jude got out of the car, opening the door to the back seat to let you in. “Hop in, passenger princess.” He couldn’t wait to use that against you. You rolled your eyes while sliding into the back seat, checking your phone for any texts from Trent, but there weren’t any. “I thought we were going to brunch?”

“We’re taking a little detour..” Jude confessed, driving farther and farther away from the restaurant.

“A detour to where exactly??” you asked, peering out the window in confusion. “I really don’t like surprises.”

Ezzie shifted her body to look at you in the backseat, smiling eagerly. “Well you’re going to love this surprise. Promise. Just hang tight.” Before you knew it, you arrived at the airport. From the distance, you could see Camille’s family jet in the private terminal gearing up for the runway, with Ziggy and Trent standing on one side, while Camille was standing on the opposite side, wearing a sundress that showed off her growing bump while she waved toward you enthusiastically. 

“Camilleee!” you squealed, running over to her to give her a hug. “Oh my days, you’re actually the cutest pregnant person ever for someone who swore up and down they were never having kids. You look gorgeous girl!”

“You next” Camille teased while hugging you back, but then she pulled away with a gasp, pressing her hand into her belly. “Oh! She’s kicking me. See? She agrees with me...she wants someone to play with when she’s out of here.”

You laughed, shaking your head no while waving your hand around. “Umm.. I think I’ll take a rain check on that for now.” You looked around, watching as Jude brought luggage to the jet. You glanced at Camille, then at Trent and the twins who weren’t offering any type of answer or explanation for why everyone was at the airport. “Seriously..what’s going on? I feel like everyone knows except for me..”

Ziggy, Trent, and Jude exchanged some looks while dapping each other up, covering their mouth with their hands while they talked in low voices you couldn’t hear. You looked back at Camille and Ezzie, waiting for some sort of an answer but both of them just grinned, gesturing for you to hop on the plane. Ziggy stood next to Trent, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, bro.”

Jude chimed in, throwing in wise words for one of his best mates. “Don’t fuck up and trip over your words. Just say it from the heart, that’s better than trying to memorize any speech.” 

After a few more words of encouragement from Jude, Trent walked up the steps, sitting next to you with a huge, but very nervous grin plastered across his face. You looked at him as the jet’s engines came to life, jetting down the runway to carry you off to the little town of Lahaina, meaning ‘cruel or merciless sun’ in Hawaiian, because no matter the weather, the sun would always find a way to shine there.

“Where are we going?” you asked Trent as the jet climbed higher into the sky.

“Anywhere” he replied simply, kissing your temple.

The private flight from England to Hawaii consisted of roughly 15 hours of watching the clouds in the sky until everything became endlessly blue beneath the plane. At some point, exhaustion took over and you drifted in and out of sleep against Trent’s shoulder. By the time the plane began its descent, you were so disoriented you didn’t know if it was morning or evening when Trent finally woke you up. You stepped out of the plane and into the warm Hawaiian breeze. The air felt sweet, carrying notes of saltwater and blooming plumeria and hibiscus flowers. The sun was beaming down, warming your skin in seconds as it casted it’s rays of sunshine over the island. Trent held your hand, leading you to the car as you took in the way the Hawaiian sun made his skin glow golden.

“T...why are we in Hawaii right now?” you asked while stepping into the car. “You didn’t tell me we were going on holiday again! Please, pleaseee tell me you didn’t pack my suitcase?? Oh my god...no.”

Trent laughed, hopping into the driver’s seat while starting the car. “Nah, that was all Ezzie and Camille.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, clutching your heart as he started the drive. You flipped between different radio stations until you found one playing a song called Saltwater Sweetness by Kolohe Kai, which seemed to fit the mood of the Pacific stretching out, sparkling underneath the sunlight on one side of the island while surfers held surfboards while running to the ocean. There were cars pulled off the road at random, passengers either chasing swells or snapping pictures of the scenery. Elevated greenery and low hanging clouds clinging to the mountains were on the other side of the island, painting a beautiful picture just below the blue sky. Banyan trees lined the streets for patches of shade over the roads as you took in the sacredness of the land. “This is breathtaking. It’s so pretty here.” you sighed in amazement, rolling your window down to let the wind breeze through the car.

Trent glanced at you quickly, mainly trying to keep his eyes on the road because there was nothing to save you if he happened to get distracted. “Wait until you see where we’re staying.”

As you drove from the north side of the island to the west, you pulled over at a local roadside stand from the smells of fresh banana bread wafting through the window. You followed Trent hand in hand to meet an older woman behind the stand who had dark hair that was beginning to silver.

“Aloha!” She greeted you with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Aloha,” you shyly replied, glancing at the loaves neatly wrapped in rows on display. “This smells so amazing, we had to stop for some.”

“Mahalo (thank you)” the woman gave you another smile, more weary this time. “Been selling here for years. It helps keep me busy.”

Trent picked up one of the loaves, juggling it in his hands, genuinely curious. “You make all of this yourself?”

“Every batch” she nodded proudly. “I used to sell from my house but the Lahaina fires took my house with it. So now I’m here as long as I can be.”

“I’m sorry to hear that..” Trent replied apologetically.

Your heart fell to your stomach. You knew exactly what that felt like. You caught a QR code taped to the side of the stand but then your eyes drifted to a teenage girl off to the side, behind the stand watching over two younger kids while they kicked a ball around. The girl looked up at you and gave you a faint smile with heavy eyes. You eyed the QR code again, nudging Trent gently to catch his attention too. Once he noticed, he pulled out his phone without another word and scanned the code, entering a large sum. He turned the screen toward the woman and her hand flew to her chest when she read the number he entered.

“Ke Akua pu (bless), thank you,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “You didn’t have to–”

“It’s nothing,” Trent interrupted in sincerity, but also with a cheeky wink. “Just paying for our banana bread. I bet it tastes as good as it smells. Thank you for this.”

“Better” she replied more steadier. “Aloha ‘oe (bye, much love to you). Be safe and remember to leave nothing but your footprints! Respect the āina (land)”

You and Trent headed back to the car, fighting for pieces of banana bread that tasted even more amazing than the smell of it, which was already hard to beat. When you finally arrived at the hotel, you were beyond tired. You dragged to your suite with tired footsteps, smelling the faint scent of plumeria in the air. When Trent opened the door you wanted to plop down on the bed immediately, but you walked over to peer out the windowed door of the large balcony, catching glimpses of the outdoor lobby below that had a lush gardens, oasis pools, koi ponds, flamingos, and was steps away from a breathtaking beach.

“Do you want to check out the beach?" Trent asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and groaned. “It’s nearly three in the morning back home. I’m so tired, T. Bed now..beach tomorrow.”

After freshening up, you both flopped onto the huge bed, falling asleep before the sun set. The next morning was spent at the beach after a short walk and you saw a local vendor selling Hawaiian shave ice. You ordered a pineapple, coconut and banana shave ice, insisting it had to be the best one, but you forgot how strong banana flavored things could be. Trent went for a passionfruit, orange, mango, and guava flavored shave ice. You took your spoon and tried to steal some of Trent’s but he pushed his shave ice away protectively.

“What are you doing?” he laughed, turning away from you when you attempted to steal some again. “Baby, you have your own!”

“But yours looks better,” you whined, leaning over to sneak some onto your spoon anyway. He shook his head, switching his flavor for yours because he knew once you tasted it you’d end up eating the rest of his anyway.

You spent most of the day relaxing until a big family loudly disrupted the normal sounds of the beach. You nudged Trent and pointed further down the beach at a family in all white matching outfits. The mum had a large vlogging camera in her hand, yelling at her kids to look natural while they posed for what was supposed to be an ‘unstaged’ video clip.

“Where do you think they’re from?” you asked, giggling at the mum’s attempts to wrangle five kids into one video shot.

“California. Gotta be” Trent answered without a doubt in his mind. “Those are influencers.”

You watched attentively as one of their kids stomped away from the mum after she yelled at him for not smiling enough. “No, that’s definitely Utah. Matching outfits, exactly five kids, everyone’s blonde, and they’re rich. Those are Mormon vloggers on holiday.”

Trent raised his sunglasses and tilted his head to look at you, squinting from the sunlight. “Yeah? What do you think their channel name is?”

You laughed and thought for a second. “Probably something really corny like LuckySevenFam”

The longer you people watched, the crazier the family became. You watched them litter the beach with random snack rubbish, try to touch baby sea turtles, and one of their many kids complained they were bored despite being in literal paradise. Once the mum finally got everyone in line for the picture, a rogue wave splashed onto their blinding white outfits making the kids scream, the dad shook his head, and the mum was fuming from her perfect shot being ruined. You turned to Trent with a look of disgust on your face as you continued eating the shave ice he traded with you. “Please tell me we’ll never turn into whatever that is.”

Trent tilted your head towards him with his hand and leaned in to kiss you. “Never.” When you finished the shave ice, you and Trent got up to throw it in the bin, picking up the family’s leftover snack rubbish in an effort to leave nothing but footprints behind. After finally leaving the beach for the day, you and Trent headed back to the hotel to get ready to catch the sun set on Mount Haleakala. While Trent was in the bathroom, he discreetly pulled out Serendipité and sprayed it on his pulse points before putting it back in its place in the box. When he came back out, you smelled it immediately and thought for a second, trying to figure out why it smelled familiar even though you never smelled it until now.

“T..what are you wearing?” you asked while spraying a perfume from one of Camille’s collections that she packed for you. “That doesn’t smell like Rêveur or anything I’ve made.”

Trent fidgeted around with a bag to hide the box, then he looked up and smirked at you. “Guess.”

“I don’t know..”

“Your guess is as good as mine then. I don’t know either.” he replied, taking your hand and heading out the door. That irritated you immediately and you rolled your eyes, annoyed while heading out.

The drive up Haleakala felt like a dream being painted in motion. The sky that was once vibrantly blue, shifted into soft pastels. Streaks of lavender and orange painted across the horizon with chunks of white clouds blending into the scene. The higher you drove up, the cooler the air got as the towns of Maui disappeared into the pillowy clouds that were now sitting below the car now that you were nearing the top. Trent’s hands tapped chaotically against the steering wheel and he was quiet and fidgety. Every now and then he would glance at you and smile. You figured maybe jet lag or the altitude was messing with his nerves, or maybe the winding roads leaving no room for any distractions. For a second you thought to yourself:

Wouldn’t it be funny if he proposed here?

But the thought quickly erased from your mind when you noticed how quiet Trent was.

“What are you thinking about?” You finally asked, turning to him. “You’re acting so strange.”

Trent’s fingers stopped tapping the wheel and he laughed, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Baby we’re one wrong move from falling off this volcano. I’m just concentrating on the drive.”

You crossed your arms, unhappy with his answer as you looked out the window at the landscape. Trent knew you were irritated with him and spoke up again, “I’ll tell you soon, Y/N. Just wait.”

“Wait for what?” you pushed with attitude, but his focus went back to the road and the conversation ended there. When you finally arrived at the top and stepped out of the car, the view took your breath away. The sky transformed to a vibrant orange color melting into deep shades of pink, blue, and violet. The doughy clouds stretched below and seemed close enough to touch and in that moment it was just you, Trent, and heaven on earth.

“I’ll never be able to describe this in words. It’s so beautiful up here” you whispered, barely audible from being so awe stricken at the view displayed and ever changing in front of you.

“Yeah. It is.” Trent spoke just as softly, but he wasn’t looking at the view at all – he was looking at you. He reached into a bag and pulled out an engraved box. The second you saw it you eyed him with a curious brow. 

“What’s this?” you asked, running your nude colored nails over the box when he handed it to you.

“Open it” he urged, stepping closer to you. “That should answer all your questions so I can finally ask mine.” You unclasped the magnet top from the box and recognized the two fragrances you cherished so much, but then you saw a third you didn’t recognize. The name Serendipité was scripted across the custom label and you pulled it out to bring it to your nose. The scent smelled exactly how you felt with Trent at this moment. Like a beaming sun in the heavens of earth with an ever changing backdrop.

“Trent..is this...?” you trailed off, unable to form words from the beautifully overwhelming view and such an intentional, loving gesture from your soon to be fiancé.

“I finished it,” he answered quietly. “You said you wanted it to feel like us..so I finished it. I wanted it to be perfect for you baby.”

Tears began spilling from your face and you shook your head, way too overwhelmed but very much in love. “It’s perfect, T. It smells just like–”

“Us.” he finished for you, stepping closer.

You were still holding onto the bottle, trying to process everything when you noticed him shift. Trent’s eyes reflected the sky through his pupils and by the time you snapped out of it, he dropped to one knee. You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “T..no. Get up. This isn’t funny anymore and it’s getting old.”

He laughed and took your hand in his. “Baby I can’t get up this time.”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered, glancing around but there was no one else in the area besides the two of you, the sun setting, and the moon peeking slowly over a cloud.

Ohmygod.

Trent took a deep breath and then began speaking. “From the day I met you, I knew you were something special and worth getting to know more. I’ll never regret sitting next to you that day. You changed my whole world, you made me realize things about myself I never thought possible. Every day I get to wake up and see your beautiful face is a day I’ll never take for granted ever again. You mean the world to me, YN. The time I spent away from you was the lowest I ever felt, and still somehow the universe led me right back to you. I never feel like I have enough time with you, but I want eternity with you. I bought this ring the same day you sent it to me because I knew I never wanted to spend my life with anyone else but you forever, and even after. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

When you saw him holding the ring in his hand you gasped, covering your mouth with your free hand as your other hand began shaking in his hand from excitement and pure adrenaline.

“Yes. Oui. Si. Ja.......How many more do I have to say before you put the ring on me?” you sniffled, impatiently waiting for him to slide it on your finger. Trent’s hands shook when he pulled the ring out to slide it onto your ring finger. He stood up, pulling you into his arms as you buried your face into his neck while still crying. He kissed your temple, your lips, and anywhere else he could reach.

“I love you, Y/N” he whispered against your skin.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” you replied with a kiss on his lips, both of you turning to watch the sky go from pastels to a twinkling night sky bathed in the moon’s bright light.

Later that night after a celebratory dinner, you and Trent walked back to the hotel room, but every few steps he would stop just to pull you close to him and kiss your neck, your shoulder and whisper ‘I love you’ in your ear.

“I can’t wait to get back to the room” he whispered into your ear in lust filled anticipation. His hand moved to your waist, squeezing the side of your hip. “You have no idea what calling you my fianceé is doing to me right now.”

You bit your lip, feeling butterflies swoon around in your stomach as his fingers continued to brush against the fabric of your dress.

“T..” you whispered when he nipped against your jaw. “We’re in the middle of the lobby.”

“So?” He gave you a cheeky grin, looking around but it was late and mostly everyone had returned to their rooms by now. “No one’s here. And you look way too beautiful right now."

You giggled, “Baby, I’m sure they have cameras. Calm d–” Trent silenced you with a kiss, entering the lift and walking you in backwards. Once he pressed the floor button, the ride up to the suite became almost unbearable from Trent sliding his hands down your back to your ass while continuing to kiss your shoulder and neck. When the door opened, he grabbed your hand and walked quickly to your suite, fumbling with his wristband fob to open the door. The second he got it open, he led you in and spun you around, bringing his lips to yours again as he walked you backward toward the bed. “I want to taste you,” he whispered against your lips while pulling down the straps of your dress to reveal your sun kissed skin. He removed your dress in a rush before removing his own clothes and laid on the bed, pulling you on top of him with a flip over so that you were straddling his chest from behind. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, smiling while biting down on your lip.

“You’re not shy,” he teased in a rough voice. “C’mere and sit, baby. I want all of you.”

You slowly lowered yourself on him but he had no patience and gripped your waist to pull you down to meet his tongue. Trent hungrily slurped over your pussy, jetting his tongue out to flick against your clit in a steady motion. Your head fell down while you slowly stroked his shaft up and down, feeling him stiffen against your palm. You peppered soft kisses on the tip of his dick and then wrapped your mouth around him, making him groan and thrust up a little.

“Fuck. Keep doing that.” he groaned against your skin before going back to lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. You tried to push the intense feeling aside and focus on the way he twitched every time you massaged his balls while adding suctioned pressure on his cock. Both of you were battling to see who could make the other crash over the edge first, so you increased the suction and took him further in your mouth with tears obstructing your vision from your gag reflex as your head bobbed up and down. You moaned against his dick to drive him crazy and Trent’s hands gripped your thighs tighter while his tongue moved against your clit until you couldn’t think straight anymore. You thought you were winning when he let out a familiar sound that meant he was close, but he shifted gears and started fingering you while he attacked your clit. 

“Don’t stop, right there” you gasped, losing your rhythm as pleasure took over your body. Your hips rocked against his face needily, your moans loud. “T-Trent.. I’m – fuck, I’m–”

“Let me taste it, baby” he commanded, muffled against your skin while still lapping you up. “Cum for me.”

A cry tore through your throat as your body shook against him. You clenched your thighs around his head while he held you down with one hand, and raked his hands over your back to soothe you as you came down from your orgasm with the other hand. You had no time to recover before he flipped you back over to face him and gripped you to lift you up and position you above his cock so you could sink down on it.

“Stay on top for me?" he cooed while running his hands down your thighs to make you shiver. “I want to watch you.” You nodded and shifted to bend your knees on either side of him, bracing yourself against his chest as you bounced on top of him, filling the room with moans, gasps, and wet squelches. Trent’s hands ran up your body, trailing over your nipples and pinching them enough to make you whimper.

“So damn beautiful” he affirmed, never taking his eyes off you. “Look at my fianceé taking me so well. You feel so good baby... keep going.”

Your legs started to shake from the burn you were feeling from trying to keep up the pace. “T…I can’t.”

“Nah, keep going. I’ll help you.” Trent gripped your hips and lifted you up to thrust up into you, making you scratch at his chest from the deep strokes. When he sensed you were too tired to keep going, he pulled you to the edge of the bed and shifted your legs to the side, hiking one knee up to your chest for a fun angle. 

“Fuck” you moaned with a jaw drop when he slid into you. The snug fit paired with the depth was almost too much to bear, making you whine his name. He grinned and leaned down to kiss you before pulling back and increasing his pace. “You like the way I fuck you?” he asked, giving you deep strokes paired with nipple play.

“Yesss,” you gasped, gripping his forearms while your body arched up to him. “You fuck me so good, T.”

“You’re so pretty like this” he locked his eyes on yours, licking his lips. “All mine. Just like this. I’m gonna make you feel like this whenever you need it, beautiful.” You squeezed his dick with your muscles from his words and his face twisted in pleasure with a clenched jaw, heavy breathing, and concentration in his brows. Watching him lose himself inside you made you wetter as he thrusted harder.

“Babyyy” you moaned while dragging out the word in an attempt to warn him you were about to orgasm.

“I know,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. He pulled at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, breathing and groaning between kisses as he filled you up with white ropes of cum. The warm filling made you feel full and tipped you over, causing your pussy to squeeze his cock with a strong grip but he didn’t stop moving and continued to roll his hips up against yours until you were both thoroughly satisfied. You grinned into another kiss when he whispered “I love you” against your lips, eventually echoing the love back – full of emotion.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, T.”

The days spent in Hawaii after the engagement blurred into a montage of sun soaked heaven: lazy mornings spent walking the beach to catch the sun rise, hiking trails that twisted through the lush greenery of the island, the sticky sweetness of Hawaiian malasada donuts on your fingers, sipping mai tais with sand still clinging to your toes at a beach bar, helicopter rides to get a view of the whole island, and sunset sails while watching cliff divers leap from Black Rock at Ka’anapali Beach as a treasured nightly island ritual. Your time there floated through like a dream and before you knew it, you were back in England.

One night, you heard the patter of rain against the window while you and Trent laid in bed. He was cuddled up against your stomach with his eyes closed as you massaged circles into his scalp, making him hum.

“You okay?” you asked in a soft voice under the dim lighting.

“Head’s still banging” he spoke low, wincing from his exhaustion and dull aches. “This feels good though. Thank you, baby. I might just fall asleep right here.”

You smiled and leaned forward to place a kiss on top of his head. Your gaze drifted over to the bedside table where the photobook he created for your first anniversary lay. It was slightly worn on the spine from being opened and closed so much. You reached over to pick it up carefully, flipping through the pages while keeping one hand on Trent’s head to keep massaging it. You flipped through until you reached the photo of Ziggy and Trent smiling brightly in front of the camera while you and Ezzie were in the background, playing with daisy crowns. You shook your head, laughing softly.

“What’s funny?” Trent mumbled against your pajama top.

“Nothing” you answered quietly, turning the book slightly so he could see the picture you were looking at. “I just can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time and we never realized it until years later. It’s mad.” Trent cracked one eye open, glancing at the picture with a sleepy grin.

“Yeah? Would you have given me a chance when we were kids?” he asked, curiously.

“Mmm..I don’t know. Something about seeing you at the park used to annoy me…still does actually, but I can live with it now.”

Trent laughed, wincing a little from his headache. “Baby, that’s fucked up. I thought you were cute but Ziggy would never tell me anything about you. You were kind of weird though so maybe I wouldn’t give you a chance either.”

You giggled, flicking the back of his head with your thumb and index finger. “Careful. I’ll make this headache worse than it already is.”

“You give me enough of them already with the wedding planning” he bantered, shifting around to make himself more comfortable. “You’re lucky I love you.” His words trailed off as he fell asleep, and you continued to flip through the pages. Eventually you closed the book and placed it back on the bedside table. You lifted your left hand up to catch the sparkle of the diamond against the dim lighting. 

None of this was luck.

It was serendipity – a chance encounter that turned into forever and after.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Roped Into Hell 🪢 | Simon Kalivoda Imagine P.2

My Masterlists | Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Simon Kalivoda & Shadyside!Killer!reader (Not romantic), sister!OC

Content Warnings: angst, bittersweet ending, profanity, mentions of canon violence, blood, death (undead people killing each other), canon divergence (simon & kate live!) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: As Simon and the gang battle another problem against Sarah Fier and her henchmen of undead killers, they discover there's more to the story and maybe the curse of Shadyside is not all that it seems. Can they stop the person responsible before more blood is spilled? Or will Simon and his friends meet their end and become another statistic in Killer Capitol U.S.A?

Note: I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar errors, I proof read and do checks but I always tend to miss a few and it's so annoying. Anyways, hope you enjoy this conclusion to my little fear street story!

If Simon had a nickel for every time he got roped like a rodeo bull in a single night by an undead killer and lived to tell it, he’d have two nickels. Which is not a lot, but the fact it happened twice? 

Honestly the fact he survived the entire night was a miracle in itself. After the school disaster and becoming bait while Deena killed Sam to save her, Simon wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep forever. He narrowly avoided being slashed by Ruby Lane and axed by the Nightwing psycho only to get his legs caught by Y/n’s rope, ass dragged along aisle nine and nearly die from asphyxiation when Sam’s heart finally stopped. 

Thank God too because Josh was about to meet his end by the ax and Kate was seconds from getting her head shoved into the bread slicer. 

But it seems like luck was not on their side. Because just when they thought they were out of the woodwork, another shitshow got thrown at them. 

Simon had been asleep, for twelve hours at least, when he was rudely shaken awake by Kate. “Simon, wake the fuck up!!” she ripped the covers from his body, “We have another problem!!” His eyes were barely opened and voice hoarse, delirious from the deep slumber he wanted nothing more than to return to.

“How can we have another problem!?” He moaned, dragging himself to the closet to put on a random shirt and pants. “And how the fuck did you get in?”

“Your sister,” she replied, throwing him a hoodie. “Kate and Josh are in the car. We’ll explain on the way.” Simon just stared at her agape.

“On the way to where?!” 

C. Berman’s house, that’s where. Because their buddy Sam happened to be possessed and now hell bent on killing them. How and why did she come to be possessed? No clue. But they needed to find a way to save her before she went on a murderous rampage. 

More shocking news came at the residence of C. Berman. The lone survivor of the Camp Nightwing massacre who saw Sarah Fier and somehow lived to tell. Who they discovered at the end of her recounting the horrific night, that she was in fact Christine ‘Ziggy’ Berman, and her sister Cindy was amongst the victims Tommy Slater slaughtered. 

Talk about a plot twist. 

So, while Josh and Deena went to retrieve the witch’s lost hand from the hanging tree, which now resided in the Shadyside Mall, and unite it with the remains they unearthed out in the woods, Kate and Simon stayed with Ziggy to guard Sam. To say they were on edge was an understatement. Ziggy obviously hated having a possessed henchman of Sarah Fier in her house and if the two were not careful, the woman may take matters into her own hands. 

“Don’t you find it a bit odd?” Simon eyed Ziggy from the living room, speaking low so only Kate heard him.

“Find what odd? I can think of a few things, Simon, you need to be more specific.”

Huffing, he turned to her, “Ryan went on his possessed murder spree on Thursday, right?” He received a nod. “Okay, so look at the math. Camp Nightwing happened sixteen years ago. Then twelve years before that, Ruby killed all her friends. There was again twelve years between Ruby and Harry Rooker, and over twelve between Harry and Y/n.” 

Kate narrowed her brows, understanding what he was saying, “There was a time gap between each possession.” 

“Exactly. But Sam all of sudden gets possessed days after Ryan,” Simon bit his bottom lip, rubbing his jaw as he tried to piece it together. “Ziggy saw Sarah Fier, was brought back to life after being killed, and nothing happened to her.” His gaze drifted to Ziggy briefly, then turned back to Kate, “Why Sam?” 

Their answer would come when Deena returned with a chilling revelation. Having united body and hand once and for all, Deena bled on the bones and was mentally sent back in time to 1666. The year Sarah Feir died and cursed Shadyside.

Only she didn’t curse Shadyside. 

No, the truth was darker. Heartbreaking. Sarah Fier did not give her soul to Satan. She was not some crazed witch desperate for power. She did not possess innocent Shadysiders to kill on her behalf. 

She was framed. The only person in history to uncover the truth. The only person who knew Solomon Goode, ancestor of Union County Sheriff Nick Goode, made a deal with the Devil for power and his bloodline has kept the bargain for 300 years. 

Until now. 

“I knew it!” Simon felt like pulling his hair out. “I fucking new something shady was going on! And that pig Goode---we should’ve never trusted him! Didn’t I call it, Kate?!”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Deena turned to her friend, who sighed tiredly and rubbed her fingers against her temples. 

“Simon thought it was weird that in the past decades went before another Shadysider got possessed but somehow Sam did days after Ryan.”

Josh snapped his fingers, pointing at Simon as he nodded frantically with the same shocked expression, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. He must’ve realized Sam had been the one to see the vision and thought if he gave her name up, she’d take us all out.”

“Bastard,” Simon seethed in anger. “Well jokes on him because now we know the truth!”

“Yeah,” Deena swallowed thickly, feeling the fear rise as butterflies swarmed her stomach that she probably could throw up if she tried. “That means they’re coming after me---fuck, we won’t have much time. It won’t stop until he’s dead.” She glanced at Ziggy, who’d fallen to her knees at some point when Deena was explaining what she saw. “We need to kill Nick Goode.” 

Ziggy looked like she could cry, “But I called him…I thought….I thought he could help.” 

Now Simon really wanted to pull his hair out, “Fuck! We have to go. Now!” 

“What do--What do you want us to do?” Kate tripped over the carpet to get her bag. 

“I’ll handle Sam--you guys go to the car.” They all separated, Deena heading to the room where Josh guarded Sam while Simon and Kate rushed to the stolen police car. Popping the trunk open so they could put Sam, now unconscious thanks to a deadly head kick by Ziggy, in there while they developed their next move. 

On the way to the Mall they picked up Martin Franklin, the custodial worker who had been at the station when they were making their statements that morning. With his knowledge of the mall, they were able to form a plan on how to trap Goode and--hopefully--use the victims of his family’s deal against him. Putting an end to the curse for good.

Satan wanted Deena’s blood, they were gonna give it to him. 

Simon was in the middle of tying the ropes to the gates of the bookstore when Ziggy approached, “those knots need to be tighter.” 

He flushed red, “Oh, my bad.”

Kneeling down, she gently took the rope from his hands, fixing the knot until it was tight and secure. Her gaze flickered up to him at times, noticing the way he stared at the object. Unsettled. Frightened. Then her eyes landed on the bruises on his neck, frowning as she realized why he could have such a reaction to a rope. Her own stomach pooled with anxiety. “The same thing happened to me, you know.” 

Simon blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts, unaware he was staring at the rope. “What?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been roped by the rodeo queen, kid.” His eyes widened with shock, jaw dropping slightly.

“You--you were?”

“Yup,” she popped the ‘p’, gesturing to the tree right smack in the middle of the mall. “Right there too. Granted the scenery was very different in ‘78, but the same location nonetheless.” Ziggy cleared her throat, feeling a full body shiver as she recalled the memory. “When Cindy and I were digging for the body, Y/n wrangled me by the neck. Took me right off my feet and dragged me a good bit before Cindy managed to free me.” A pained smile appeared. “I know how you feel.”  

Simon looked at her sympathetically, “You..you didn’t say--.”

“It’s not really something I like to think about. Of all the things that happened that night, it’s one I try to block. Being roped like an animal by an undead rodeo prodigy was not on my bucket list.”

“Yeah,” Simon brought his knees up, leaning his arms on top as she finished up with the rope. “Is it bad to say that I feel sorry for them? The people who were chosen. Y/n…Ruby…Tommy?” Ziggy stiffened at Tommy’s name, but recovered, placing the rope down as she leaned back to rest on her calves.  

“No, it’s not bad,” she told him earnestly, offering a small smile. “It just shows you are a compassionate person, Simon. I used to feel sorry for Nurse Lane, for how the town treated her and her daughter.” Her smile dropped, thinking of the older woman who she hadn’t spoken to in years. “She insisted something else was responsible for what happened to Ruby, but no one believed her. And now knowing what we know now,” determination filled her eyes, “I want justice for them. For all of them. Because like Tommy…like Y/n,” she shuddered and Simon did too, “they didn’t have a choice. Their lives were stolen, and we owe to them to free them just as much as we need to free Shadyside. Until we do, they’ll never truly rest.” 

By the time the plan was finally put to action, Simon was rethinking his entire life. He’d already witnessed two sheriffs’ killed by the Milkman, the others were arriving, and he was shaking so hard he prayed he wouldn’t blackout and fuck up everything. 

Taking his place at the entrance to the hair salon, Simon gripped the rope until his knuckles turned white. He was panting, practically heaving, head snapping back and forth to scan the area for movement. He could see Ziggy and Josh from where he was. Kate was blocked from his vision by the damn tree, as was Martin. And he barely caught sight of Deena rolling across the counter where Sam was tied up.

As the thought came to his mind that maybe there’d be a chance it’d only be the Milkman, the sound of someone whistling, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’ filled his ears, causing his blood to run cold and chest to tighten. “Oh God.” Faint, soft, growing louder with each second and a moment later Y/n appeared from around the corner. Twirling her rope, and hat perched slightly down to cover her face. 

Just like at the school she was following the blood trail. Boots clicking along the tile, tassels swaying with each step. Simon gulped, feeling the sweat bead on his forehead. He held his breath as she passed by him, as though he was invisible. Waiting until she got further into the salon, Simon said a prayer and yanked the rope until the gate closed. Trapping Y/n, who now noticed she was being tricked and rushed forward to escape, but Simon was faster. Pulling the rope to the hook where he wrapped it until secure and raced back to the meeting point. 

“How many is that?” Deena asked once everyone was back. 

“I got one, Martin got the Milkman,” Josh told her. 

“I got Skull Mask,” said Kate.

“Rodeo Queen makes four,” Simon held up four fingers.

“Five. We have five,” Ziggy appeared from behind Deena, coming to their little circle and dropping to her knees. “Nightwing.” 

Deena’s breath hitched, “No Ruby?”

Josh mentally cursed, “I don’t know. We need to keep an eye on--.”

“Y-Y-Y-Yo!” Martin screeched, effectively cutting the boy off. His eyes were full of fear as he faced them. “Why’d it get so quiet?” 

They all leaned over the counter, observing the group of killers who, yeah, were very quiet. Even Y/n’s whistling stopped. All of them standing at the gates like robots. Or video game characters waiting for the player to make the next move. 

There was only one explanation for it. Ziggy being the first to realize with a chilling gasp of air, “It’s him.” 

Deena gave her a look full of sympathy, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Ziggy said with determination. This was more than putting an end to the curse. This was about avenging Cindy. Avenging Alice. And Tommy. And the countless others killed at Camp Nightwing. Her sister died trying to protect her, now she was going to ensure it wasn’t in vain.

They all watched silently as Ziggy pulled herself over the counter, taking her place in front of the hanging tree. Deena inhaled, “Mount up,” then she went over the counter. Followed by the others one at a time. Simon raced to the salon, hiding in the space between the two stores just as the bells rang indicating someone stepped inside the mall. 

A second later he saw Nick Goode enter the food court, approaching Ziggy in the middle and he kneeled down to begin undoing the ties on the hook. Readying himself.

He barely heard Ziggy say, “Tag, you’re it,” before she pulled the string next to her, yanking the bucket of Deena’s blood and splashed it over his head. Immediately she bolted away, and Simon took that as the cue to open the gate. 

The metal clanked, ascending off the ground to break the barrier between Y/n and the food court. Simon saw her flinch back at the noise but then began to walk forward at a slow pace. Exiting the salon, Simon tried not to trip on his feet as he raced to Kate and Josh but nearly lost his footing when Ziggy’s screams echoed in his ears. He turned to see Nick holding her in a chokehold with his gun pointed at the Milkman. 

“Ah!” His hold on Ziggy dropped as Skull Mask thrusted a knife into his back. Ziggy unfortunately didn’t get far before she was caught by the Milkman. “Your blood is on her! It’s on Ziggy!” 

“What do we do?!” Simon yelled in a panic, gaze falling on Goode fighting against Skull Mask while Ziggy thrashed in Milkman’s arms. The others were slowly descending on them and needed to act fast. Deena ran forward, grabbing the knife Ziggy dropped and ran the blade across her palm. Instantly Skull Mask and Milkman’s attention drew up, allowing Nick and Ziggy to push them off. 

Nick pushed through the doors leading to storage, disappearing from their sight. “Go! Go!” Josh screamed to his sister. “We got him!” Deena dashed off towards Nick, running like her life depending on it--because it kind of did and because the killers were now chasing her. Thankfully before Skull Mask got her Martin knocked him off his feet with a chair. Buying her time as got to the doors, stopping abruptly by pressing her back against the wall. 

The rest of the group gathered inside the clothing store. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!!” Josh’s stomach flipped as the Grifter and Y/n moved toward them. “No, no, no!” 

“It’s my shirt, it’s covered in her blood!” Ziggy threw the piece of clothing out, then helped Josh and Martin pull the gate down. Creating a barrier between them and the others.

“Go!” Josh screamed to his sister. “We’ll handle them.” She didn’t hesitate, pushing through the doors to resume the chase. The food court fell silent then, with the exception of the heaved breaths they were taking as the adrenaline continued to pump their veins. 

“Ok, we need a Plan B,” Martin called out as they lined up beside each other against the gate. “Like now.”

That’s when they noticed Tommy Slater, aka Nightwing, stomping his way toward the exit Deena went through. “No…” Josh countered, “we just need more Plan A.” 

Opening the gate, the group raced in different directions toward the water guns they had discarded when the attacks first began. Simon grabbed his then hurried to Y/n who happened to be the closest, spraying her chest with the neon-colored blood mix and causing the white color of her outfit to turn green. The action made her stumble, head tilting down as though to inspect her shirt and Simon saw the way her brows lifted. Confused by what happened. 

Not waiting to see what she’d do, Simon ran past and into the store. Kneeling beside Kate who matched his unease. 

“I got that creepy perv motherfucker right in the bullseye,” Martin’s gaze locked on the Milkman, his target who was now strutting in their direction. “This is gonna work, right?” 

Oh, it worked.

Not a second the Grifter had the Milkman in the air and tossed him down like some ragdoll. Then Nightwing let out a battle cry, swinging his ax into the large man’s leg, causing him to fall to his knees and allow him to drive the ax into his neck. Skull Mask went after Milkman, and Simon watched in both horror and fascination as Y/n wrang her rope around Nightwings' neck and yanked him to his knees. Strangling him as she stood behind until Skull Mask snatched her hair to drive the knife into her back. She let out a cry, fighting his hold until she broke free and then attempted to wrap the rope around his neck. Working him to his knees as she pulled as hard as she could. 

“Holy shit,” Simon couldn’t believe it worked. The sight was gruesome, unsettling, but ultimately their best case scenario to buy Deena time. 

Unfortunately….they forgot Sam was still there. Who broke free from her binds and was now high tailing it after Deena. “Guys,” Josh was the first to notice, “We lost Sam.” 

“That can’t be good,” Simon mumbled under his breath, attention going back to the showdown in the middle of the food court. Y/n had somehow managed to climb on top of the Grifter and was basically severing off the final bit of his head with how hard she was strangling him when she was violently pulled off by Nightwing. The Grifter’s head came loose, and Y/n fell to her back with a loud grunt, which turned into ear piercing screams as the ax drove into her chest until she ultimately stilled. 

Simon threw up in his mouth, hand coming up to stop it from spilling as he moved away from the group and proceeded to release the bile on the floor. Despite the harm she caused him and the fact she was technically dead, seeing Y/n get hacked like she was a piece of wood was an image that would be burned into Simon’s mind forever. He’ll likely have nightmares for months. Cause what the actual fuck. 

Eventually Tommy was struck down and they all became a pile of black blood and guts in the middle of the floor. But that was only temporary.

“Right now they’re dead, but that’s not gonna last.” Josh said as he pulled open the gate. Already the body parts were migrating back to the killers. It could be minutes before they were up and ready for round two. “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to get ready to fight.”

“Wait!” Ziggy pulled him back when she heard a sound, the five of them glancing to their left to see a shadow approaching. 

“What the hell is that?” 

Billy Baxter. The child killer who beat his family with a baseball bat, thumping said bat, appeared. Coming up to the gumball machines where he proceeded to bang the bat on the metal, the loud sound echoing. As though he was taunting the group. 

And just when they thought his sudden entrance was a surprise, there was singing coming from the opposite direction. “You always hurt the one you love. The one you shouldn’t hurt all.”

Simon’s blood ran cold, “Ruby.” 

That made seven. Seven killers, five of which were currently in the process of ‘waking up’. And who the hell knows if Deena already found Nick and hasn’t been attacked yet by Sam. Time was ticking and it didn’t look to be in their favor.

“Ok. Ok, you know what?” Martin rushed to grab a water gun. Pumping it, “At least we still have magic blood.” But when he went to shoot, nothing but air was released. He pumped again but was to no avail. “I’m tapped.”

“Me too,” Ziggy breathed, and Ruby’s singing grew louder. Simon tried his, but he too was out of blood.

“No, no, no! We can find other weapons!” Josh insisted. “We can use the delivery hallway, outflank them. We--.”

“Or…” Martin cut in, “we can wait in out.” 

Josh shook his head. “What? No, no!, No, we’re--we’re too close!” Looking at Kate and Simon, he saw their hesitation and frowned. “Too many people have died, and I’m not letting them take my sister too!” He pleaded, his fear growing more and more with Ruby’s singing drawing closer and the body parts connecting to their respective owners. “We have to protect her! Please!”

When neither Martin nor Ziggy made efforts to move, Josh peered at Kate and Simon, who gave him a nod and followed him out. They weren’t sure what to do, but Josh took Tommy’s ax and started toward Ruby. 

“Up, up, down, down,” Josh mumbled to himself, flipping the ax as the nerves exploded in every cell. “Left, right,” he got closer, and closer, Kate and Simon a few inches back to assist in the attack. “B, A, start!” The ax came swinging down on Ruby’s back, propelling her into the wall and unleashing a gush of black blood. Josh swung again with a roar, the ax sticking into the drywall and he screamed as pain erupted in his stomach from the slash of Ruby’s switchblade. 

“Josh!!!” Kate tackled Ruby as he fell, making the blade fall from her grasp and the two rolled onto the floor. Simon kicked it away, joining the fight as Ruby got on top of Kate and tried to choke her. He took her by the hair, throwing her off followed by a harsh kick to the stomach. But Ruby dodged his next attack and sent Simon to the floor with a punch to his jaw. 

The next minute happened so fast. Josh’s arm got broken, Kate’s thigh slashed, and Simon was seconds from being stabbed in the throat when a bullet shot through Ruby’s head. Her body slumping forward as blood splattered across the poor boy’s face. “Not again,” he groaned and winced from the pain in his jaw. 

“That’s one,” Ziggy lowered the gun she snagged from one of the dead officers. She and Martin rushed over to the three. Josh whimpered as they helped him up, his shattered arm cradled by his other. A wave of comfort filled his chest though when Kate limped over, placing her hand not applying pressure on her thigh on his shoulder. 

“This isn’t good, oh God,” Simon cracked, the Grifter sitting up as his head slowly attached itself. “Fucking hell.” The ginormous man stood to his full height, and Simon feared he was going to shit his pants any moment now. The others were coming too, his gaze falling on Y/n’s twitching body, shivering at the way her body contorted like a performer in the circus until she too stood upright.   

From the side Ziggy kept her attention on Billy Baxter. His bat echoing each time he banged it on the tile, the ceramic mask he wore an eerie sight for it made him look like a porcelain doll. Ziggy unloaded the clip, sending one, two, bullets into his head and shoulder before it clicked. “I’m…that’s it!” 

Obviously that pissed him off. Because now he was moving with determination, banging the bat a bit rougher. 

Nightwing rose, followed by Milkman and Skull Mask. Ruby started twitching. “Oh God!” Y/n began whistling. Billy’s bat kept banging with each step. 

Seven Shadyside killers versus five Shadyside survivors. 

“Come on!” Martin screamed as they closed in on them. 

Simon trembled, eyes flickering between each killer until they fell on Y/n. She was walking fast, rope swinging as she geared up to toss it. And just when she was about to let it loose, she disappeared in an explosion of swarming flies. 

As did all of them. 

Simon gasped, flooded with relief as he stared at the spot Y/n once stood. Heart pounding that his ribs hurt, but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the remaining flies disperse until the area was clear. 

“She did it,” Josh released the air he’d been holding. Leaning onto Kate who was practically crying. “She fucking did it.” 

Martin fell to his knees, Ziggy dropped the empty gun, and Simon hunched over with his hands on his knees. Part of him felt like throwing up again, but his stomach was pretty much empty and he was in no mood to start dry heaving. 

“Remind me to tell Deena she can use my employee discount for the rest of her life.” 

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Simon,” Kate frowned as nervous butterflies filled her stomach, clutching the binder containing all the newspaper clippings and stuff they gathered for this very moment. “Are we really sure about this?” She turned to Josh who gave her a shrug, he too was unsure. 

“Ziggy said she was going to Nurse Lane to give her closure, we should do the same for Y/n’s family,” Simon told her, holding a plate of freshly baked cookies they made that morning. Which they hoped would make Y/n’s sister give them the time to explain their visit. “I mean, c’mon. If you spent fifty years believing your sister didn’t just suddenly snap despite what everyone else said, wouldn’t you want the person who cracked the truth to tell you? I would.”

Kate sighed, “Yes, I guess you’re right. Still it feels odd--like we’re blindsiding her by coming to her house instead of calling in advance.”

“To be fair,” Josh interjected, “if we called there���d be a high chance she’d never answer. Or hang up before we got the chance to explain.”

“Exactly, Rain Man,” Simon clapped him on the back with a smile. They walked up the driveway to the porch, opening the screen door of the enclosure and huddled inside while Simon rang the doorbell. When no one answered, he knocked a few times and waited, then rang the bell again. 

Finally the door swung open revealing an older woman, walking cane in hand and squinting at the trio with raised suspicion, “Can I help you?”

“Hello!” Simon greeted with a small smile, “Forgive us for the unexpected visit, are you Ms. Donna L/n?” 

The woman nodded slowly, “L/n is my maiden name, yes.”

Josh spoke from behind Simon, “Your sister was Y/n L/n, right?” Now Donna appeared sullen, frowning as her lips curled down. 

“I’m sorry, whatever this is I can’t--.” Simon jeered forward when she started closing the door.

“We have proof your sister didn’t go crazy!” Donna’s eyes widened. “Well, that she didn’t just snap--it was something--someone--else who made her.” At her hesitant reaction, Simon relaxed his shoulders and pleaded to her, “Please. A couple weeks ago we went through hell--it’s a miracle we’re even standing here right now. The same thing that happened to you at the rodeo fifty years ago,” he saw Donna’s eyes glisten, face visible with pain, “happened to us. And we know why--please just give us ten minutes of your time and we will explain everything.”

Donna was silent, tension building as they waited for an answer. Instead of giving one, the frail woman simply stepped to the side, opening the door further to allow the teens in. Simon thanked her, as did Josh and Kate, entering the home before following Donna to the living area. She left them alone for a few minutes, returning with a tray of milk and hot tea. 

Simon placed the cookies beside them, “Thank you,” he said while taking a glass of milk, Kate accepting a teacup. Glancing around, Simon took in the living space of the home. He wondered if this was the house Y/n grew up in and Donna took over after their parents died. Judging by the glass bookshelf containing trophies, ribbons, and plaques of the girl's accomplishments, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. Simon shuddered upon seeing the sepia portrait of Y/n in the same white outfit hanging over the bookshelf.

Donna sat on the leather recliner opposite the couch the teens sat on. “You said you have proof. That my sister…” she swallowed, frail hand coming up to adjust her glasses, “Why does it feel like whatever you’re about to tell me has something to do with the recent misfortunes of Sheriff Goode?”

Simon didn’t sugar coat it. “Because they do.” He motioned to Kate, who placed her teacup on the table and extended the binder in her lap to Donna. The woman took it, brows pinching as she opened it and began flipping through the pages. They teens had taped the newspaper clippings of all the Shadyside killers next to articles about the Goode family. Ryan Torres beside Nick becoming Sheriff and Will elected Mayor. Then their father became chief of police next to the article of Ruby Lane. 

“What….” Donna mumbled, face paling when she reached the clipping of her sister. Y/n’s face staring back at her. The beautiful girl and loving sister Donna remembered, not the horrifying, crazed, jealous rodeo queen determined to keep her title the media painted her to be. Donna’s face tightened, scowling at the article next to Y/n’s in which it detailed Joseph Goode’s sister, the daughter of Michael Goode, winning the rodeo and $10,000 scholarship to Ohio State University. 

What Y/n should have won. 

The pieces started falling together for Donna as the teens revealed the deal Solomon Goode made with the Devil in 1666. His framing of Sarah Fier for witchcraft, and the centuries worth of sacrifices the Goode’s have made in exchange for power, wealth, and legacy. That Y/n had been selected by Michael Goode as a sacrifice in 1941 and her killing her friends and competition at the rodeo was not actually her. But Satan possessing her body. What broke Donna’s heart further was learning Y/n was resurrected in 1978 and two weeks prior to hunt down Christine Bergman, Samantha Fraser, and Deena Johnson for bleeding on Sarah Fier’s bones. Even in death, her sister was a slave to Satan. 

“So,” Donna sniffed, wiping away the fallen tears, “Michael Goode sold my sister’s soul to the Devil, so his daughter could take her title and the money that would’ve allowed Y/n to follow her dreams. You know, I always thought there was something going on in that family. They were too…righteous,” she waved a finger. “And what concerned me was how Goode's daughter never showed interest in the rodeo prior to ‘41. She used to tease Y/n and was envious of the attention my sister got. It wasn’t until Ohio State offered the scholarship that suddenly Sunnyvale’s princess wanted to be a cowgirl.”

Simon, Josh, and Kate looked on with sadness. Blinking away tears threatening to fall. Well Kate did have some drop, her cheer uniform slightly wet from wiping them away. 

She stopped crying, but her eyes remained glossy, a sad smile on her lips as she trailed a finger over her Y/n’s picture. “She was so talented--so extraordinary. People all over Union went to the rodeo to see her rope. It’d take her seconds to catch the calf when they dropped the gates. She was the best.”

Simon fiddled with the rings on his fingers, sadness consuming him as he observed the elderly woman, still haunted by the actions of her sister. He attempted to shed some light on the situation, “I wish I could say I didn’t know,” his face flushed, “but yeah, I definitely understand how she got all those titles.” 

Kate nudged him with her elbow, scolding, “Simon.” 

Donna simply chuckled, waving a hand, “It’s alright. I’m sorry you had to experience that--I cannot imagine what you and your friends went through and I’m happy you all are okay.” Donna closed the binder, handing it back to Kate, “However, it does bring me some solace that Y/n is now free from that bastard. I just wish our parents were here to know the truth.” A distant look appeared on Donna, “They suffered the most after that night. Momma was never the same, and Daddy had to quit his job--couldn’t bring himself to face the town.”

They ended up staying at Donna’s later than expected, listening to the woman recall memories of her sister growing up. What the County Rodeo was like before they got rid of it, the depths of Y/n’s talent and potential had she not died. Her plans of going to Ohio State to study agriculture and hoped to one day own a ranch. She wanted to help her family, provide for them, get her parents out of debt and ensure Donna had a stable future. 

They learned Y/n loved bees and her favorite flower was marigolds. She loved Bing Crosby and saw The Wizard of Oz in cinemas several times when it first released. Y/n enjoyed school, was popular amongst her peers and besides the rodeo she volunteered at the local animal hospital. 

By the end of the visit, the teens felt like they knew Y/n the way she should’ve been known. As a bright, young girl with dreams of getting out of Shadyside. Just like they all dreamed of. 

Donna thanked them all with a hug goodbye, expressing her gratitude for their bravery and by giving her closure, “I cannot thank you enough for what you did.” Tears threatened to fall but she held them back, clasping Simon's hands in hers to give him a slip of paper with her landline number on it. “I am forever in your debt--whenever you all need something and I can help, please don’t hesitate to call.” 

An unlikely friendship formed between the teens and Donna. Not long after they found themselves coming over for Sunday dinner every once in a while or dropping by on holidays to keep her company. They brought flowers on her birthday and watched The Wizard of Oz with her on Y/n’s. Simon used his employee discount on her whenever she came into the store. Donna bought them gifts when they graduated. 

And every couple of months Simon and Kate took it upon themselves to clean Y/n’s grave now that Donna was unable to. Cutting away overgrown branches and scrubbing away paint whenever some punk ass kid decided to vandalize it. 

‘Here lies Y/n M/n L/n

1924-1941

Sister, Daughter, Rodeo Queen

Now in a place somewhere over the rainbow.’

The last sentence was recently added by a collective effort of the group pitching in money to help Donna.

“This shit pisses me off man,” Simon grumbled as he brushed aggressively across the stone where the red spray paint read, ‘Rope in Hell, demon,’ in large writing over Y/n’s name. “I mean have some respect--didn’t they see the news?!” He was referencing the latest news story in which the truth of the Goode family and Sarah Fier was released to the public on an online forum.

Everyone say, ‘thank you, Josh.” 

Kate looked at him sadly, “Not everyone is quick to believe that, Simon. We weren’t exactly on board with it in the beginning, remember?” She turned to drop the branches and moss into a bucket. “It’s going to take time. Sunnyvale worshiped the Goode’s--literally. But thankfully here it seems like people are slowly coming around.” 

And they were. Slowly but surely the residents of Shadyside had a new outlook on their town and the darkness that once loomed over. Their reputation as Killer Capitol U.S.A now with reason. The horrors of their peers were not brought on by a sudden snap, their souls were traded at the cost of others. 

Ruby Lane. Tommy Slater. Ryan Torres. Y/n L/n.

Kids turned to killers, but the people who knew and loved them always believed it wasn’t a snap in judgement. And now there was proof. Their names and reputation cleared. 

Simon sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead and dipping the brush back into the cleaner. “It’s unfair.” He scrubbed until all the paint was gone, then proceeded to polish the stone while Kate planted more daisies since the last ones they left were stolen. 

“I know. But what more can we do?” She smoothed the soil. The two continued to work in silence. Stopping periodically for water breaks and to have a quick snack. Simon went as far as to take a toothbrush and clean out the engraved lettering. 

When they were finally done, the two removed their gloves and placed them in the bag containing all their tools. “We did good,” Simon patted Kate on the back. “Did Ziggy say she was going to do Ruby’s after she cleaned Tommy’s?” 

“Yeah she did,” Kate pulled her backpack on her shoulders, “I checked before we got started. They’re both clean with fresh flowers--and Ryan’s parents already cleaned his the other day.” 

“Nice,” Simon chewed on a granola bar, crumbs coating his lips. “Our work here is done,” he hauled his own backup up, “until next time.” Gazing one last time at the headstone, Simon felt a smile curl on his lips, “Hey, look,” he pointed to the daisies, “A bee.” 

A lone bee landed on one of the daisies, then traveled to the headstone where it settled on the spot right above Y/n’s name. 

Kate’s brows lifted, face shifting to that of awestruck, “Didn’t Donna say Y/n had a liking for bees?” She thought back to their first visit. “That she had a stuffed bumblebee as a kid and once said she’d want to be reincarnated as one?” 

Simon understood what she was implying, his heart skipping as a sudden warmth filled his chest. Watching the bee in pure wonder as it remained in its spot on Y/n’s grave, almost like it was giving them a sign. “Yeah…she did.” 

[murdcrofcrows]

if i get too close and i'm not how you hoped, forgive my northern attitude i was raised out in the cold. if the sun don't rise 'til the summertime, forgive my northern attitude i was raised on little light.

inspo ・ visuals ・ headcanons ・ wcs ・ playlist ・ pinterest 

( general stats. )

— name : zigmund theodore turner, iii — nickname(s) : zig, ziggy — date of birth : january 5th ( 28 years old ) — occupation : journalist / photographer — nationality : east atlantean — ethnicity : white  — religion : agnostic — residence : burnington, outskirts — gender : genderqueer ( they / he ) — orientation : pansexual ( kinsey scale 5 ), demiromantic — status : dating / only has eyes for beau clary

( physical & mental characteristics. )

— voiceclaim / accent : mike faist / new england accent mixed with appalachian hints — height : 6’0” / 182.88cm — body type : lean muscles with long limbs and torso — hair colour : medium ginger / auburn, tapered to their ears, shaggy waves — eye colour : heterochromia - predominantly light blue with a patch of brown in the right eye — dominant hand : right — tattoos : none yet — piercings : left ear — physical health : they are not always great at taking care of themselves, they certainly tried but had a habit of overworking themselves and pushing themselves past their limits, forgetting to eat, etc. for the most part they are in good health.  — scars : several small ones old and new, one predominant on their hairline from an accident on their bike when they were younger — style : t-shirts, trousers, occasional skinny jeans, denim jackets, converse tennis shoes, big sweaters ( see pinterest for more ) — conditions : general anxiety ・ seasonal depression ・ attention deficit disorder ・ mild ptsd

( personality stats. )

— qualities : creative ・ ambitious ・ perseverant ・ helpful ・ hardworking — flaws : worried ・ morbid ・ cynical ・ cold ・ stubborn — mbti : infp — moral alignment : neutral good — temperament : melancholic — enneagram : 5w4 ( the philosopher ) — soul type : scholar — zodiac : capricorn sun ・ capricorn moon ・ pisces rising

( background check. )

— birthplace : northern eastern atlantic in the remnants of massachusetts  — intelligence : above average — education : equivalent to a high school diploma ・ journalism / photography training — skills : photography ・ fast runner ・ climbing ・ writing ・ basic gardening ・ map reading  — likes : writing ・ reading ・ artistic photography ・ art ・ old movies ・ new socks ・ long warm showers ・ fresh sheets ・ nacho ・ snack foods ・ laying in the grass ・ intimate conversations ・ hockey ・ beau — dislikes :  small talk ・ bigots ・ political ads ・ team sports ・ birds chirping in the morning ・ violence ・ radishes ・ large condensed groups of people ・ deafening silence ・ oppressive rules ・ guns — languages : english — pet (s) : nacho ( ginger tabby cat / son )

( facts. )

writes their thoughts and poetry down in their notebooks often, feels weird without at least one notebook and their camera on them at all times

has a ginger cat named nacho that is more like a kid than a pet, loves him more than life itself it’s almost unreasonable.

didn't know anything about gardening or farming before meeting beau and since living with him he's learned so much more.

[ziggyturner]

STATS • CONNECTIONS • PINTEREST

GENERAL.

full name: zigmund theodore turner, iii nicknames: ziggy, zig gender / pronouns: genderqueer, he/they age / birthday: 28, january 5th orientations: pansexual, demiromantic previous occupation: sports journalist / photographer birthplace: nantucket, massachusetts status: quite attached to beau clary family: zigmund turner, jr. (father, deceased), amelia turner (mother, unknown), agnes turner (sister), 1 siblings (1 older, wcs), nacho (ginger tabby cat they treat like a son) strengths: creative, ambitious, perseverant, helpful, hardworking weaknesses: pessimistic, melancholic, cynical, cold, stubborn time in nyc: 10 years time at the wexley: 2 days (new survivor post-outbreak)

PERSONALITY.

ziggy has always had to work hard for everything in life. it’s left him a bit bitter and feeling like he was cursed or something. this has always made them appreciative for what they did have, even if it wasn’t what they wanted. they recognize and have a lot of respect for other people that had to work hard to get where they were in life. he comes off as sardonic to most, occasionally it can be perceived as cold because of the lack of animation or enthusiasm in his demeanor but at the end of the day they are kind. with a couple drinks or a solid smoke session ziggy became downright delightful and quite talkative. when it comes to feelings and emotions, they tend to struggle on how to express them outwardly so it often comes out in their writing and even more so in their poetry.

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: death

     ziggy was born and raised on the island of nantucket, massachusetts. they were smack dab in the middle of three children. his father, a commercial fisherman, was swept off deck into the ocean when ziggy was young. amelia raised her three kids the best she could after that but it also meant that they often sacrificed things that were not necessities. all three children did their best to help out to make their mother's life easier, however. from her, ziggy learned the importance of hard work but it's also where he got his love for writing and poetry. 

     throughout school, the one thing on ziggy's mind was getting off the island and moving to the city. it wasn't that he didn't love his family and where he was from, but he knew that if he didn't get out when he could— he would never leave, just like so many others. he graduated with high marks and got a scholarship to nyu. while he enjoyed writing poetry and short stories, he wasn't naive enough to think he'd make enough money to survive off those ambitions. instead, he hoped to write for the new york times. that's what made him pursue a degree in journalism and photography with a minor in creative writing. when he graduated, however, the jobs he hoped to get got filled by other applicants and he ended up taking a job as a sports writer and photographer to make ends meet while he searched for something else. unfortunately, something else never came.

     perhaps the job wasn’t as bad as they’d made it out to be, they did get paid well enough to survive in new york city and they met a really great guy at work who just so happened to be a professional football player. they'd been together about a year when the city went to shit. ziggy was on their way to finally put in their notice in at work after getting a deal with a publisher in town. it was early in the morning and they hadn't noticed the rising panic on their way in. it was only once they'd reached their office that they noticed something was off. people were telling them they needed to evacuate and as ziggy tried to figure out what was going on, that was when he saw one of his coworkers attacking someone else. more started emerging and moving towards the crowd. there was no way they were all making it down the stairs and he broke away. ziggy spotted a bat in one of the offices (signed by at least several of the yankees) and ran for it. the sequence of events after that were a blur. 

     there hadn't been much time to process anything, but by the time the day was over he was pretty sure he'd killed two of his co-workers and he was barricaded in an office on the twenty-second floor of what used to be his work. there were clips of news broadcast before the internet and phone went out that helped explain some of what was going on. what became clear is that he would be stuck in that office until he could figure out a way to get somewhere familiar. the wexley was only several blocks away, however that felt like light-years when they looked outside to see the chaos unfolding in the streets. after a few weeks the food from the employee lounge fridge and vending machines was going to run out. by then he developed the best plan he could come up with. ziggy made their way to the top of the building and found a way across to the next one. they started moving building to building, it was a slow process as he had to avoid danger and plan routes as he went. with scarce resources he had to conserve as much energy as he could. 

     by the time he made it outside the wexley ( only to find the front entrance destroyed ) ziggy was running on empty. with the creatures going in on him, he crawled into a nearby delivery truck and latched the back until he figured out what to do next. all but ready to give up, ziggy woke up to a friendly face who got them quickly inside the wexley. after being alone for over four months, they are are just happy to see people and find out they have food. they will deal with whatever comes next later.

HEADCANONS.

had a serious boyfriend before the outbreak, has been trying to get to the wexley to find out if he's okay.

writes their thoughts and poetry down in their notebooks often, feels weird without at least one notebook and their camera

had a ginger cat named nacho that was more like a kid than a pet, has no clue if they are okay.

lost at least ten pounds since the outbreak due to scarce food resources while he was making his way to the wexley

gets pretty severe nightmares if he can sleep at all ever since the start of the outbreak.

for the majority of quarantine ziggy was in and out of sleep as they arrived to the wexley after weeks with little food or sleep and were definitely dehydrated.

they haven't had human interaction since the outbreak started, seeing ashton was the first non-chomper they'd come across for over four months.

more to come...

[clearwaterhq]

WELCOME TO CLEARWATER, juicy! you’ve been accepted as ziggy smith (ALBERTO ROSENDE) & declan lovelace (DREW RAY TANNER)! please have your account sent in within 24 hours; don’t forget your CHECKLIST! *filling one of toby's employees wc

[heirshq]

the following are now reserved for 48 hours:

house karstark, henessi schmidt, greenseer spot, house dayne & amber midthunder for star.

ruling lord stark, mark rowley & warg spot for mal.

house hightower, house celtigar, jodie turner smith, gilbert tyrell's wc & alicia agneson for ro.

stark c, greenseer spot, lily rose depp & nia towle for seph.

princess targaryen, samantha logan for bee.

olivia cooke, stark b, kit young & king targaryen for ziggy.

martell c, amita suman for abby.

[exocynraku]

i've been wanting to learn pixel art and what better way to learn then draw all the cats in alphabetical order (again) except backwards!

[kilmerhq]

due to not reacting to the interest check within the allotted time frame or not posting an introduction within the 48hrs w/o the request of an extension, please unfollow :

@calam1tys

@dcadweight

@divinelyunisplred

@fainthartds

@lailakarimi

@maldxta

@sautilles

@splendidfm

faceclaim(s) now open : archie renaux, cooper koch, courtney eaton, fiona palomo, greta onieogou, manny jacinto, maris racal, medalion rahimi, monica bellucci, savannah lee smith, seo ye-ji, theresa palmer

job(s) now open — restaurant owner position ( 1 ), front desk @ hawthorne inn ( 2 ), playhouse musician ( 1 ), delphi's delight cashier ( 1 ), natural museum archivist ( 1 )

skeleton(s) now open — muse 3

wc(s) now open — 1 of 2 esme heroux's colleagues, jude landry's crush, otto landry's wife, ziggy landry's crush

[ali-annals]

Cracket

Pairing: Timari

Rating: G

WC: ~0.6k

A/N: I wrote this in half an hour out of spite for @/boldlyanxious.

The ball sailed past the half-a-million dollars’ worth vase and hit the mirror, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces with a sharp crash.

Daizzi tucked the bat behind them and cringed. “Oops…”

“Oh no! What are we going to do?” Mullo squeaked, hovering above the pile of glass and wringing their paws nervously.

Footsteps sounded and Marinette came running around the corner. “What happened?”

Ziggy sheepishly faced their Guardian. “We were playing cricket…and Daizzi missed Mullo’s ball.”

Marinette surveyed the scene and sighed. “Please tell me you learned from your lesson and now know why I told you not to play in here? At least it was only the mirror. We can replace that a lot easier than Bruce’s great-great-aunt’s vase.”

It was a hideous thing, painted with a replica of Boticelli’s The Birth of Venus, and oysters and pearls covered the sides as decoration.

Longg, who had been acting as umpire, fetched a broom and dustpan to start cleaning up the mess.

The large pieces were dumped into a bag and the kwami zoomed over the area, making sure no small pieces of glass would be left to shred the foot of an unsuspecting passer-by.

Tim rounded the corner, mug pointed at the sky as he drained the dregs of his coffee mug.

Crnch!

Tim moved his foot. “What was that?” he asked. 

“Cricket,” Mari replied, tying the garbage bag tightly. “The kwa-”

“I squished a cricket?!” Tim yelped, looking around for more. “Where are they? You know I hate locusts and anything related to them after I had to eat them in the desert!”

His flailing mug knocked the vase off the table and Mari watched in slow-mo, horrified, as $500,000 worth of gaudy porcelain splintered into a million shards.

The crash was louder and sharper than the mirror’s, but this time the shocked silence was broken by a wail as Tim fell to his knees in front of the pieces of his mug.

“My coffffffeeeeeeee!!!!!”

Marinette was torn between horror at the accident, relief that it wasn’t her or the kwami who broke the vase so she wouldnt have to reimburse Bruce, and stunned bemusement at her overtired and overcaffeinated boyfriend’s antics.

“Tim, you finished your coffee,” she pointed out. “I think you need sleep more than you need coffee.”

“But it was my favourite mug! You painted it!” He protested, letting her pull him to his feet and head towards the stairs. 

“You have like five favourite mugs. You’ll survive. Come on,” she tugged at him again. “Aren’t you at all worried about the vase you broke?”

“Nah, Alfred leaves out heirlooms Bruce hates so they’ll be a casualty of our shenamingiaminans.” Tim’s head lolled onto her shoulder as he robotically climbed the stairs.

“You mean shenanigans?” Mari asked, her eyes dancing in amusement at her boyfriend’s slurring and the Wayne butler’s scheming.

“Yeah. That. Shemangans.” He lifted his arm to emphasize his carefreeness and lightly hit her cheek. “Sorry. Bruce hates the heirlooms but his extended relatives would give him no end of trouble if he got rid of them, so Alfred came up with the plan to put out only the things that Bruce doesn’t care about or wants broken, so he has a perfectly good excuse as to why they disappear.” He told her all the antics Bruce and Wayne extended relatives got up to as the caffeine delirium set in.

They reached the top of the stairs and Mari dragged him down the hall, then tucked him into bed. “I’ll make you another mug tomorrow, okay?”

A soft snore sounded from Tim’s pillow and she smiled. “Sleep well, mon canard.”

[noxtms]

+   006   𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  !

[rosemist50]

Parsnip, Benny (Stormcloud's brother), Ziggy, Victor, Riga, O'Hara, Webster, and Scarlet from Bramblestar's Storm. Fog and her brother Streak, Growler, Tuna, Mae, Floyd, Dash, and Rose from Tigerheart's Shadow. Ajax from AVoS and Tigerheart's Shadow, Spider from AVoS, Bob and Jasper also from AVoS. Tom-Tom and Coco from Daisy's Kin.