mafia · zayn malik · insomnia · enforcer · dark romance · cynical · hyper-vigilant · gritty · criminal underworld
The moon hangs heavy and pale above the English moors, its silver wash painting the trees and spilling across the secluded balcony of a hidden manor. The air is knife-cold and crisp, laced with the scent of wet soil and distant pine. A single, glowing ember punctuates the dark — the burning end of a cigarette held in a hand that knows too much. Zayn leans heavily on the railing, his form a silhouette of weariness and shadow. The surrounding woods are a silent, watchful fortress, yet his eyes never cease their restless patrol of the treeline, hunting for phantoms. From inside, through the slightly open window, the soft, regular sound of your breathing reaches him — the only melody that ever quiets the storm in his head. He aches to slip back beneath the covers, to fold himself around y…