#I told you no mcd

[flamie-42]

I want out…

Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) - alternate Beast AU

Tags: slight angst with a happy ending, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (I promise), fluff, cannon typical suicidal ideation from Dazai, nothing more graphic than the cannon, Dazai and Chuuya being stupidly in love

Content Warnings: slight gore, suicidal ideation, typical Dazai CWs,

A little skk mini fic, while I gain the mental capacity to update my actual fics

Dazai is tired.

Every morning he wakes up. Goes to a meeting. The meeting is boring. Someone probably died. Or supplies aren’t getting past law enforcement. Or someone is mad at him. He can’t really bring himself to himself to care.

No one has noticed this shift in his attitude, to them the boss has always been a cold piece of shit with no emotion. “The demon prodigy is as cold as ice” he hears whispers in the halls of the Port Mafia building. He doesn’t bother to try and change his way, they are mostly correct.

Mostly…

Osamu sighs as he opens the door to his penthouse suite. He would have rather just slept in his office if it wasn’t for a certain … someone.

“Osamu you’re fucking late!” A familiar voice calls from the kitchen. He sighs as the cold mask he is so tired of falls off in the comfort of the warm inviting suite.

Most of the Mafia assumes that a man like him lives in a dark cold flat. That he only sleeps and eats there. Little do they know that the lively ginger that remains at his side most days lives there too, brining his noise and color.

A flurry of reds envelops him as he sheds his coat and tight suite shirt. The smell of spice and wine takes over his senses as he melts into Chuuya’s arms.

“Long day, huh” his partner only slightly mocks him as he leads the exhausted man into the kitchen.

“I don’t know how you’re not, Chuu” osamu sighs as he collapses onto a stool to watch his love cook. Long ago Chuuya had taken on the job of cooking for the both of them. One, so Dazai would eat and two, so he wouldn’t burn down their place. Now he was cooking up some ramen for the two of them.

“I’m not running the whole operation, I just gotta follow orders” Chuuya winks at his boss as he serves up the food.

“We both know how much you *love* following orders” Osamu smirks at his partner as the redhead laughs deeply.

Later as they lay in bed, limbs tangled together, Osamu sighs deeply and quietly states,

“I want out, Chuu”

It wasn’t a question, just a soft firm statement shared between lovers.

“You sure?” The sleepy response came from the redhead.

“Absolutely”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Chuuya pulled him closer and softly kissed his hair, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do that for a long time.

Atsushi walked into his Boss’ office for the early morning meeting they had scheduled. The office was empty but Atsushi assumed the man would be in soon enough. After a few minutes without the dark haired man arriving he noticed a letter on the desk with his name scrawled on the front.

Atsushi,

I’m sorry it had to happen like this, you know how the mafia is about deserters. Hirotsu will take over in my stead and Kouyou and you will be his seconds.

You’ll do great.

The weretiger looked terrified at his partner who was standing quietly behind him. A commotion drew their attention to the large windows in time to see a flash of black and red falling.

Reaching the ground floor they were in time to hear the rumble of gravity breaking concrete. This only confirmed the suspicions of the two. As they walked out the front doors of the Mori Corp. they were just in time to see the red headed exectutive collapse the sidewalk.

It had been a long suspicion that the boss and his prized executive had a relationship more intimate than the partners they claims to be, though no one dared voice those rumors. Both members of Double Black were ruthless and violent if provoked. Though in most eyes the display in front of their eyes confirmed how close the duo was.

Red markings creep onto Chuuyas skin as he feels the weight of gravity bend to his will. The concrete he stands on cracks and buckles. Rebar screeches and snaps as immeasurable stress is placed upon it. His eyes blur as he sees the body beneath him, laying much too still.

The body is mangled and bloody, its dark coat crumpled as it hit the pavement. But what hit Chuuya the hardest was the scarf. The blood red scarf that Chuuya has given Dazai so many years ago.

It was a cold night when Chuuya had gotten a call from his new partner to meet on the roof of the skyscraper the Mafia called home.

On that rooftop the two of them had made a pact to remain loyal to eachother, above all else.

Dazai had given him the leather choker that still lay on his neck. A “collar for my faithful dog” the brunette had said. And despite chuuyas chagrin he had been a faithful dog to Dazai since that day. Not that Osamu had made him do anything he would have protested (much) to.

In return Chuuya had given him a blood red scarf that adorned his bandaged neck since that day. “A reminder of your job” Chuuya had said bitterly, referring to Corruption. But since that day Osamu had always been there to bring him back.

The concrete finally collapsed and Chuuya floated down with the rubble. Each progressive story of the underground the gravity punched through. Corruption had fully taken over Chuuyas body and there was no stopping it…not anymore.

He knew what people would say, the rumors he had confirmed by this but he didn’t care anymore. There was no point to continue like this, without him there.

His consciousness fell away until there was only red, Arahabiki fully taking over his mind and body until Chuuya was shut in a little corner.

He sat in an empty room, looking through his own eyes and watching the chaos that the god inside him was inflicting on the world. It appeared Arahabiki wanted to take both him and the body beneath them to a deep grave where no one would find them.

We must be deep at this point

I wonder how much father we need to go

Arahabiki will find him

The windows closed and the room fell dark around him. Chuuya laid down and closed his eyes, simply waiting.

And waiting…

And waiting…

And finally a soft blue light enveloped the room. It was a comforting, familiar light. He had felt it many times before… and at this point it felt like home.

Chuuya opened his eyes, his real eyes, and saw a pair of bright brown eyes waiting for him. A hand held his cheek tenderly.

“Did you have a fun time princess” Osamu’s mocking tone flowed into his ears.

“You asshole, you put your scarf on the body” Chuuyas bit back, his voice rasping.

“I thought it would sell it more” Osamu had now picked up Chuuya, who was in no condition to walk, and began to walk towards a tunnel that was poking into the hole they stood in.

“Asshole” came a quiet response from the redhead.

“Sorry Chuu” he whispered back, he knew Chuuya had a much harder role in this to play but he did it beautifully as always.

Chuuya awoke in a soft, clean smelling bed. He stretched, feeling his bones pop as he looked around him.

Dazai sat a few feet away, drinking something and looking out the open door of a shipping container. Beyond him was the vast blue ocean, now a new shade of teal that he knew belonged to the tropics of Oceania.

He stood up and stumbled over to his partner who looked up at him, a happy smile plastered on his face. Chuuya had waited years to see that smile grace his lips again.

“Welcome to our new life, love” Osamu whispered as he pressed a kiss to Chuuya’s lips.

“Thank goodness it worked” Chuuya slumped into his arms, body still exhausted.

“You should have seen the explosion! It was magnificent” Osamu smiled as he wrapped his arms around the redhead. “Could have fooled me that Arahabiki imploded deep underground”

So everything had gone to plan

The mafia would think them dead and they could live out their lives, far away from the violence and destruction.

Just them on an island Dazai had bought years ago and spent days untying it from both their names.

“I think you should go blonde” Chuuya mumbled, combing his fingers through his partners hair

“Only if you go brunette” came the laughing response

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

this is unacceptable

[jeremiahthefroge]

Every appearance of the red-haired menace that is early Laurence forces me to sit here and stew upon how I will fix his introduction in the rewrite. As a coping mechanism. Unfortunately since I can't remember the parts where his character isn't just harassment so I can't cook with the themes the way I'd like to. Like the way he calls Aph "my love" after she very explicitly in the text of the game tells him not to do that... bad vibes. I think I could rock with his character if he'd done the same sort of approach in hitting on Aphmau as heavily, but the moment she lays down an actual boundary, he backs way the hell off. I could even fuck with her trying to be subtle about the boundary and him not getting it and continuing to make her uncomfortable before she snaps at him and he apologizes, saying that he truly didn't mean anything by it, and he respects the boundary she lays like his life depends on it from then on out. It would create some immediate complexity in his need for explicit communication, and backs up the sort of deeper character hinting they seem to try to do when he's talking about Castor and Cadenza, this idea that he deeply cares, if being a bit pushy on accident. It would also make a good detail fueling the conflicts later on with the love triangle that can sort of prevent Laurence from looking like TOO much of a dickhead (him being unaware or misinterpreting situations, and the delicate nature of it making him uncomfortable asking questions, is a compelling reason to see somebody hurting his friends' feelings, and makes him significantly more sympathetic, opening him up for feelings of remorse and guilt).

[undyinglantern]

would it be stupid to apply as a baker at a bakery where I probably can’t eat anything since I don’t consume dairy products?

[bakedbakermom]

tried one of those non-alcoholic fruity seltzer drink recipes and having vivid sensory flashbacks to the summer i nearly died of whooping cough, when the only way my mom could get me to choke down my medicine was to mix it into fruity seltzer. now i think i'm going to puke. guess i put this in the same category as sherbet, which was the OTHER thing my mom would mix my medicine into so i wouldn't die and the OTHER thing i haven't been able to eat since without feeling like i was going to puke.

[floralneonlights]

There was no reason to make Dante a cheater PERIOD

It’s like jesson looked at the relationship/situation between nana, Dante, and Nicole, threw all the nuance out the window and just said “haha Dante is a cheater because funny” HUH???? Just because you can doesn’t mean you should c’mon now. it’s literally so out of character for him they might as well have made a new character

Dante needs to be saved from these writers fr fr

It just feels like they had no idea how to integrate some of the characters from MCD to MyStreet while the characters still being loyal to their MCD counterparts to an extent. I understand why Zane is Normal and I honestly prefer it that way, because he still feels like Zane with a brooding personality and everything. But Dante, and even Katelyn, just feel... Off. On Dante's end. it feels like a character they didn't want to write anymore, he became a side character in the second season of MCD and basically got kicked out of the main crew because he now serves to Levin (Which, once again, shows INTENSE loyalty). Then in MyStreet, he became some sort of cheater who flirts with everyone, making his entire character comedic relief. Then with Katelyn, her anger became one of her main traits when that's not all she is in MCD. I haven't watched much of MyStreet but it feels like most of her qualities are that she's angry and easily embarrassed, which are only TWO of her SEVERAL traits. This is the same Katelyn who had so many feelings towards Jeffory and his death, the same Katelyn who snooped in Nicole's diary, the same Katelyn who gave Aphmau armor for her guards when they were still technically on opposing sides. Yes, she has a bit of an anger problem, but I don't really see that ever in play with Laurance in MyStreet? Then again, it's Laurance and I don't think Jesson knows what they're doing with him anymore either. It just feels like something got lost in translation, some of the characters were honestly able to have this switch over and still be loyal to their MCD selves (Like Travis or KC, dare I say), while others were just bastardized. I have! Feelings! Also the funniest part is that, considering how they handle paralleling situations in MyStreet vs. MCD makes me realize how much of MCD's depth might've been an accident. That or they actually COULD write at one point and decided to just rework the characters which is....................a choice.

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Shout out to the folks at work the other day that enabled/encouraged me to go on a lil infodump about being transgender and who had genuine questions and listened to my answers. Obviously it's not something queer folks should be expected to do but I love being a point of information for people! I love talking about my experiences and my understandings of philosophies that intersect with that and I think alot of cishet people are maybe uncomfortable asking blunt questions? But so long as they're posed in good faith and with willingness to think about the response, I enjoy answering those weirdly specific things. How else to we dispel the willful ignorance that places of power want to foster towards us? I refuse to he a scapegoat and am deeply grateful to the people that are receptive to experiences outside their own

[bloodydeanwinchester]

im so afraid that theres gonna be this over arching motif of hope and you can keep holding on in this fic but then there’ll be this ultimate awful moment where dean tells him it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to keep holding on anymore and that he can finally let go and im just gonna die

[deus-ex-mona]

when the tamamamamamamamamagoro longlegs—

[concernedgravy]

MCD!!!

.

.

.

.

.

His wish did come true after all ✨

Wish upon a star ✨⭐️💫

[vxsellie]

TO WASH ASHORE - E.W

pairing. pirate!ellie williams x siren!reader synopsis. ellie wakes on a remote island, delirious and hallucinating as she spots a sea creature watching her from in the sea, your sharp eyes tracing her every movement. already deeming herself to be losing her sanity, ellie sees no harm in calling you over. notes. bare w me here guys idk what im doing, this idea is so random but im trying to do it justice at least ! MCD WARNING BTW wc. 4.3k

ellie williams has lived a life of barbarity and brutality, living among pirates as a woman in disguise. of course, nobody would allow a woman aboard a ship, not to even mention the ship of a notoriously infamous pirate renown for his perfection and flawlessness. so, her fellow crew members know her as eli. a man.

she'd been sailing in disguise for nigh a year now, growing close with the pirates and getting to know life at sea. she's even built quite a reputation for herself ⎯ elijah williams, cruel and callous. captain miller's golden boy.

"avast ye!" a barrelman calls out from the crow's nest.

those on deck turn their attention toward the man. ellie halts her work and lifts her head up toward where he sits, putting a hand to her forehead to block the sun from her eyes.

one of the gunners climbs the shrouds toward the barrelman, scaling the lines swiftly. he pauses when he reaches the top, the two men conversing for a short moment before the barrelman passes the gunner his spyglass. the gunner's eyes widen and he begins talking frantically to the barrelman, both unsure on what to do. ellie watches the exchange from the deck, highly invested in what got the men so worked up.

she hears footsteps approach her from behind and she turns around to face whoever it is that comes to her. captain miller. she instantly straightens her back, the quintessence of respect for the man of authority.

he waves a hand at her, "oh relax, williams. you haven't gotta act so on edge all the time."

"easy for you to say." she scoffs, deepening her voice an octave. "you ain't gotta change to be accepted. you're the captain, you can do whatever you damn well please 'n nobody can give you shit."

"i suppose," he agrees. he then turns the topic around, peering up at the men atop the crows nest. "what're they doin' up there?"

ellie shrugs, "i haven't a clue. seems troublesome, though."

miller hums in acknowledgment, staring up at the two men who grow more and more frantic with each passing second. they hand the spyglass to one another back and forth, taking turns looking through it and exclaiming things of nervosity. ellie follows their gazes, turning toward where they aim the glass.

there, in the distance, she can see the formation of clouds beginning to fester along the horizon. its barely noticeable from her place on the deck unless one knows what to look for. but, if she were up high, the sight of such a storm would likely terrify her.

"a storm." ellie says.

miller turns to look at her, a brow raised. "come again?"

"that's what they're lookin' at." she explains, meeting his gaze with her brow knitted. "a storm is brewin' out there and we're heading directly into it."

miller doesn't need any proof of this, believing ellie without hesitation. and, within mere minutes, of her declaration, he's appointed roles and tasks to each of the two hundred crew members aboard. gunners are tasked with moving the ballast and heavy barrels into the hull; the pilot is given a stern talking-to on how best to handle this situation; the riggers are told what to do and which lines to pull.

ellie, being the quartermaster, is tasked with keeping the crew at bay. miller tells her she needs to keep them calm and level-headed, give them hope and whatnot. she nods, hurrying to do just that.

as they near the looming clouds, the sea grows angered. waves come up over the taffrails, soaking into the floor of the deck. the winds pick up, forcing the riggers into action. she alternates between people, assuring them that they're doing well and they'll make it through this. however, as she watches the storm grow nearer, she isn't quite so sure of that herself.

she sees a group of brutes, standing around without a role yet. she approaches them with her hands on her hips and a hardened expression on her face. "the fuck are you doin'!? batten down the hatches!" she orders. instantly, the men rush into action, tying things down and putting things away for the coming weather.

ellie's heart beats frantically in her chest as rainfall begins to drench her. she pulls her hat farther over her face, making sure that her hair is all tucked away and her coat remains loose.

the sea grows in her rage, throwing massive waves over the bow. crew members begin to lose faith, their minds descending into despair. ellie tries to keep them at bay for the most part, but it's fruitless. their hopelessness is no longer malleable. she curses under her breath, knowing exactly why miller appointed her this role ⎯ if the pirates lose hope, they won't work as efficiently at their jobs. even if wreckage is inevitable, they'd at least have a chance.

she glances around, the gunners breathing quick as they shakily trek back and forth. the riggers grow fatigued in their mission of manning the sails, the pilot grips the wheel tightly but not confident enough. the ship teeters on the waves, thrashing around with each one.

"fuck," ellie mutters, wiping salt water from her eyes as she rushes to the helm. she ascends the stairs and approaches the pilot with as kind as gaze as she can muster whilst so irritated. "okay listen," she says, causing the pilot to turn to her with wide eyes.

"elijah?" the pilot questions, "what're ya doin' up here? go help the others."

"won't be able t' help the others if ya crash the ship." she points out. "move, let me steer."

the pilot appears reluctant, but eventually gives in and moves. ellie takes the wheel, flexing her fingers against the wooden material. the feel of the wheel in her hands is comforting, reminding her of how she first began as a pirate ⎯ a small pilot who blended into the background for months.

she tips her head at the pilot, wondering why the hell he's still standing there. "go help the gunners, tar."

"oh, uh⎯" he nods quickly, "yes, sir!"

with that, he scurries off to assist those in need. ellie watches from the helm as he bustles about, seeking out those who need an extra hand. once she's sure he's doing as he was told, she averts her attention back to the task at hand.

the waves are growing by the second, more and more water taken over the bow. a few of the swabbies dumping buckets of seawater overboard. she spins the wheel, hard. the ship swerves to the right, hitting the next comber at an angle. a few of the pirates stagger on their feet or fall over, but nobody falls overboard so ellie counts that as a win.

her change in angle allows the ship to take in far less water. the crew members will need to embrace their sea legs a bit more, but overall the damage is now far less. a few of the pirates whip their head in her direction, knowing their previous pilot would never have the balls to whip the wheel so hard. when they see ellie "elijah" at the helm, many of them seem relieved, knowing she's a great pilot. if anybody can aid them in survival, its her.

this goes on a few more times, yanking the wheel hard to the side as to avoid water filling the deck. but as time progresses and the rain refuses to die down, the amount of overtake grows unavoidable. by the fifth wave, the swabbies are forced to resume their buckets. by the eighth, more pirates rush to their aid.

ellie grits her teeth, mentally scolding herself for having not done more despite it being nigh impossible to avoid water overtake. she grips the wheel tightly, tossing the wheel to the side as the ship lurches in that direction. they hit the wave inelegantly, one of the riggers falling from a shroud and into the water with a deafening splash. she ignores it, unable to part her mind from the task at hand.

she hears footsteps bound up the stairs of the helm, rushing to her. she sideglances in their direction, not surprised to see captain miller approaching her.

"what're our chances?" he asks her, bracing a hand on the rail of the helm that overlooks the deck, having to grip onto it to avoid toppling over.

"of survival?" she asks, turning away from him and toward the next wave that rolls in their direction. "not lookin' too good, i'll tell ya that."

"give me a precent."

"about 18." she says with a sigh, the ship overtaking a huge amount of water from the bow, two swabbies getting washed away with the wave. she forces herself not to think about their deaths, tightening her grip on the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

"fuck that." miller declares. "we ain't dyin' out here."

"don't have much of a choice, i'm afraid." ellie tells him, yanking hard to the left, the wheel spinning out of control for a split second as the water catches control of the rudder. she fumbles to regain reign over it. once she does, her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she shoots miller a look. "i'm doin' everything i can, but i can't promise it'll be enough. this storm ain't relenting."

he narrows his eyes at her. "what's your name, williams?"

"excuse me?" she questions, momentarily caught off-guard.

"ya deem me fool, do ya?" he questions. "i know you're a woman. if we're all dyin' anyway, at least tell me your real name. you should be able to tell someone before your life ends."

"ellie." her chest feels heavy as she speaks her actual name for the first time in a year, throat feeling tight with the foreign sound of it on her tongue. she blinks water out of her eyes and she tells herself it's rain, though she's not entirely sure.

"well," miller says softly, nigh inaudible over the heavy rainfall pattering loudly against the sea around them, "it's nice t' meet ya, ellie williams."

she turns her head to face him, brow knitting. their eyes meet and she gives him a gentle smile, eternally grateful for his acceptance of her despite her year-long life of lies. apparently, that split moment of distraction is all it took for the storm to hit. while ellie's distracted by the unexpected turn of events miller voices, mother nature decides to attack while her guard is down.

a huge wave swells over the bow, water yanking the ship forward into the sea. ellie yelps as the wheel yanks from her hand, rudder being tugged by the sudden change. as the bow goes down under the surface, the stern goes up in the air. ellie's feet slip out from under her, her backside slamming against the vertical deck. miller's do the same.

as ellie slides downward toward the water below them, she feels a hand grab her by the wrist. she looks up, breathing hard. miller is still holding tightly onto the railing with his right hand, his left now holding ellie's entire weight.

the ship is vertically positioned, the bow slowly sinking into the aggravated sea as the stern is high in the air, teetering unnaturally.

she stares up at miller with wide eyes, her mind reeling at the sudden change in atmosphere. she'd told them they were likely to die, but she hadn't actually been ready to face death straight-on. the feel of powerlessness licks up her spine with a cold touch of dread and despair.

"ellie!" miller shouts, her attention snapping up to him. "i ain't lettin' ya go! don't lose⎯"

his words are cut off by a barrel coming down from the helm and hitting him in the head. the heavy weight of the wood knocks him out cold, his fingers going slack on the railing. they both instantly fall from the stern. she screams as she falls, sound interrupted as her body collides with the ocean. her throat burns, eyes stinging as she forces them to open in the water.

she looks around under the surface, ignoring the agonizing sting in her retinas. she's surrounded by wood and debris and fallen pirates. buts she's looking for one in particular. joel miller.

he's nowhere to be seen.

her heartbeat picks up, her lungs contracting with lack of oxygen. her mind begins to swim, unable to comprehend all that she's lost within a mere few seconds. she feels herself begin to sink as her eyes go dark, the weight of her body being dragged down by the merciless pull of gravitation.

she shuts her eyes, allowing the earth to pull her under the water and towards its core. consciousness plays with her, pulling her in and out of it. not a single coherent thought runs through her mind as she sinks down, down, down,

just as she comes to terms with death, shaking its hand and accepting its sudden control over her, something else grabs her other hand. something soft, a gentle caress of fingers wrapping around her wrist. life.

ellie's chest constricts as she shoots up, the feel of water in her lungs as she gags on it. the feel of pain welcomes her before the feel of relief does. her throat burns, her body is weak, her eyes sting. everything aches so very agonizingly that nothing else really matters to her.

she rolls over, getting on her hands and knees as she coughs and hacks water from deep within her chest. once she manages to level out her breathing enough to form an intelligible though, she realizes what she's on.

her fingers dig into soft sand, the sediment wedging under her nails. she lifts her head, eyes wide in shock. she's on an island, tiny enough she can see right across to the water on the other side. she looks around some more, taking in the scarce amount of shrub and grass.

she huffs out a laugh, disbelief and delirium encircling the sound as it slips past her split lips. the light chuckle soon turns into boisterous cackling, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes she's alive. she's breathing, feeling, living.

through blurred vision, she grazes her eyes across the island, once again taking in the beautiful sight of it. she leans back on her knees, sitting on her folded feet. here gaze suddenly snags on something lying a few feet from her. a body. she narrows her eyes, praying that this island isn't inhabited. but when she recognizes the shape of it, she instantly rushes to its side.

captain miller. joel.

she crouches beside him, turning him onto his backside. she leans down, pressing an ear to his mouth, desperation filling her up as she listens for any sign of life. then she hears it. breathing.

it's croaky and crackled, but breathing nonetheless. she straightens. he's alive. once he wakes, he'll cough a bit and be in indescribable pain, but he's alive. she moves him onto his side to avoid him choking on his own saliva, tipping his head into the sand a bit.

her mind is moving at a million thoughts per second, ellie can hardly keep up with her own brain. she leans back, staring at joel's head as she breathes heavily, trying to grasp what exactly has happened. only an hour ago, she was⎯ wait. how long ago was that? for all she knows it may have been days since the shipwreck. it may have been months. she looks at the sky, hoping to be able to tell time by it somehow.

the sky is clear, blue and brilliant without a cloud in sight. but her clothes are still wet and so are joel's. plus, she isn't starving to death yet, so she decides it's only been a few hours.

her mind races, suddenly stuttering on one thought in particular: who the fuck got them out of the water?

if it were another crew member, they'd be on the island with her and joel. if it were another ship crew, they'd be dead before they could reach the depth of which she'd sank by then.

she traces her eyes along the horizon regardless, hoping she might see a ship or something to point toward who's responsible for this. that's when she sees you.

her brows raise at the sight of a girl so far out in the surf, water up to your shoulders. your hair is wet, clinging to your neck and forehead. you aren't wearing a top, bare shoulders peeking from the surface.

ellie squints her eyes, wondering if she's going crazy or not. the heat is getting to her, clinging to the wet clothes that soak her skin. her hat is missing, auburn hair now askew atop her head. she puts a hand to her hairline, shielding sun from sight. sure enough, there you remain.

gorgeous and luminary in your presence, out there like a beacon of hope amid chaos. water droplets run down your face, sparking like fragmented glass across your skin.

"hey!" she calls out, unable to stop herself. "c'mere!"

you remain in place for a long moment, tilting your head at her slightly. she worries, for a second, whether you truly were imagined purely out of her mind. honestly, how could someone so beautiful be out here right now? in the middle of the ocean. just standing there. it's impossible.

just as doubt traces up her spine, you begin forward.

your movements are languid, almost like you're made of water yourself. the tangible embodiment of the sea, beautiful and mysterious just like the ocean. ellie finds herself unable to look away, a wordless spell cast to immobilize her.

you continue forward, bare chest veiled by your long wet hair. like a fish on a hook, ellie crawls toward you. her jaw is slackened, eyes sparkling. you keep most your body in the water as you near her, lower waist never breaking the surface. ellie doesn't give much thought to it, to enamored by the sight of you.

you stop at the waterline, lying on your stomach. you bury your elbows in the sand, resting your chin on the palms of your hands. ellie stops right in front of your, her eyes wide as they search your face.

"...beautiful..," is all ellie is capable of muttering. you tilt your head at her, slow and steady. she continues to stare at you, awe-struck. the smallest smile manages to tug at your lips and ellie finds her heart speeding at the mere sight of it. you shut your eyes, grinning at her.

"thank you." you say.

ellie's ears perk at the sound. your voice is music, tone a melody. she can't help but yearn for it to be played on loop. over and over until she takes her final breath.

"y-you⎯" words feel foreign in her mouth, nothing coming out correctly. she shakes her head, touches of crimson staining her cheeks. she blinks a few times as she refocuses on your face, taking in every feature that adorns it. "you're⎯"

"what?" you croon, a gentle hum from the back of your neck. she finds herself leaning in at the soft sound, needing to be closer. needing to hear you better. your eyes sparkle at the sight of her desperation, scooting farther back ever so slightly. "i'm what?"

a breath escapes her lips as she stares. "you're beautiful."

"mm," you sound, blinking at her slow and seductive. she falls for it. of course she does, they all do. that's your curse.

"how⎯" she blinks down at the sight of you in the water, having emerged from the surf all on your own. "how'd you⎯"

you tilt your head again, though this time for another reason. you do it as to move it out of her line of sight, allowing her eyes to rest on the tail that grows from your hips. it's about five feet in length, blue and shiny. the scales catch the light, glittering like magic. the fins are translucent, filtering sunlight through the thin material.

she stares at it, unable to tear her eyes away. whether that be to delirium or adoration, you're unsure. so is she.

"i saved you," you mutter, drawing her gaze back to your face. your brows are furrowed, sincerity knitting them with a thin thread of deception. she blinks, the threads blurring together into a gentle curiosity. she leans in again. you lean back. the palms of her hands are now in the water, encircling her wrists with rocking waves against the shore. she continues to crawl toward you. out of mere pity, you refrain from easing back more. it'd be too easy that way ⎯ killing a starved pirate who's been marooned.

"a-and joel?" she blinks, completely unaware of your moral dilemma. she's equally unaware of the way you had been slowly easing into the water. somehow, they never seem to feel the cool liquid around them.

"yes." you confirm, narrowing your eyes at the girl and her soaked form. "yes, i saved your old captain as well."

she exhales, enamored by the information. you take this time to soak in the sight of her. her hair is damp, short auburn strands clinging to her face and neck. her thin white linen shirt is clad against her torso and chest, buttons undone at the top. her heavy brown coat hangs off of her, clearly having been made for a man. her black jeans are baggy, also meant for a male. as are her oversized boots.

"thank you, i⎯" she stammers, licking her lips in thought. "i-i don't know how to⎯"

"hush," you whisper, voice tangling with the waves crashing against the sand. the melody is the same, sediment washing from the shore as ellie does. you lift your hands, cradling her face with cold, wet fingertips. she leans into the touch, her eyes lidded and pupils blown. your gaze softens, "you needn't thank me, love."

"but⎯"

"shh," you place the pad of your thumb on her lips, silencing her. your eyes drop to her mouth, tracing your finger along her bottom lip. she parts them, breath hitching. "i saved you because i was unable to bare the sight of your death."

she doesn't respond, her mind jumbled. you continue, pulling her deeper into the water as she crawls toward you.

"so lovely, so undeserving," you whisper, the water now at her knees, forcing her to stand in the water with you. your hands remain on her face, thumb running along the pink skin of her mouth. she breathes heavily, desperate for more, completely under your alluring spell of seduction.

"closer," she mumbles, likely unaware she'd even uttered the word.

you oblige, the water now at your waists. your tail treads water as she legs continue to inch toward you. she moves forward, never stopping, never thinking, never able to. you stop, allowing to to ease closer. she does.

she braces her hands on your hips, fingers caressing the scales with gentility. so different from anything else you'd experienced. normally, when you seduce sailors, they're lustful and desperate and rough. she, however, is kind. curious wonder strikes her eyes, flecks of love already catching her pale green irises. they remind you of sea grass.

you decide to offer her a kindness before the inevitable death that's to overcome her.

you lean in, the waves crashing at your chests, pushing your toward her. you listen, the ocean being your religion, your beacon of a deity. she does the same, obviously. you continue to cradle her face as she continues to encircle your hips, delicacy lacing her every movement.

you press your lips to hers, your bewitched mind incapable of feeling anything aside from an insatiable hunger for her death. ellie, on the other hand, is seeing stars from the mere feel of her mouth on yours. the way your lips move with such calculated precision, the way your teeth nip at the lip you'd been tracing. it's intoxicating. the taste of you is more addictive than any glass of rum she'd ever had.

sea salt and passion line your lips, salty with its passion. she leans in as your lean away, careful to keep your lips connected the whole way down. while ellie is practically unraveling at the seams, you ease into the water.

the trick here, you've learned, is to kiss your victim. that way, they're already holding their breaths with their eyes closed. you can ease them into the water without so much as a fight.

unfortunately for her, ellie is no different.

she follows your every movement, unaware of how the ocean begins to rise. the way the water begins to clog her ears. you drag her down, filling her lungs with your own tainted oxygen that you're not in need of.

you're now far past the surface, ellie continuing to kiss you despite the way her hands go slack around your waist and her breath struggles to maintain itself. you hate the knowledge of knowing you'd killed such a beautiful soul. but, more than that, you love the taste of her death.

the way death holds her hand all the way down; the way her skin turns to an icy blue that mocks your tail; the way her mouth goes slack against yours; the way her eyes are already closed; the way her lungs constrict.

she dies without a fight, completely uncharacteristic for a woman who'd fought her whole life. for a woman who went disguised as a man for so many years, all of her walls were let down for you ⎯ a mysterious creature of the sea who's name she hadn't even bothered to learn.

and as she does, her last thoughts are of your face and the sound of your voice. she dies with a soft contentment in knowing you were what held her as she was put to an eternal slumber.

if her death could be something of benefit to you, she considers it to have been worth it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist : @juptology @thefirstromantics @flutterdasher @dinakisser

[lalunanymph]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 (part 2)

✧˚ · . three minutes past his 27th birthday, the mass serial killer known as 'dawnbreaker' finally meets the girl from his dreams

✧˚ · . part 1

✧˚ · . warnings:- dawnbreaker!zayne x fem!reader, HEAVY ANGST, mentions of food, mentions of illnesses, mentions of injuries, spoilers for zayne's lore, alternative timeline, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancies, pet names (darling, my love, beloved), nightmares, mentions of smoking, MCD, brief mentions of su_cide, nightmares, a not so happy happy ending, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. i am not responsible for your media consumption

✧˚ · . dawn says: i had to split the last part into 2 because it was literally so long tumblr said nope sorry girlie this ain't making it into the tags lol

✧˚ · . playlist

“You may know me as Zayne, but I go by another name…” 

He exhales it into the suffocating silence:

“Dawnbreaker.”

Your eyes bulge wider, mouth falling open in horror. Of course, you were aware of that name; you knew who he was.

Serina Callaghan, daughter of Detective Callaghan, had told you numerous stories about the elusive serial killer. How no one could find a trace of him. 

Yet, here he was—standing in your kitchen with remorse etched onto every pore of his body.

You feel a sick sense of nausea bubbling from your stomach to your chest, threatening to spill onto the floor.

You had taken him in… made love to him… held him in your arms every night… when he had killed all those innocent people…

As if reading your mind, Zayne shakes his head. “These people—the ones who had passed on—I never killed them for fun. They wanted me to end their lives because they were overtaken by the disease… by the Abomination.”

His words shock you out of your reverie; tames your urge to grab the phone and call the police. For a split second, you wonder what Zayne would do to you if you were to lunge for the cordless phone; would he escape?

Kill you?

Forcing yourself to be far braver than you felt, you clutched your trembling hands together, taking in a deep breath.

“So, m-mercy killing,” your voice shook, but your deduction was spot on.

“Yes.” He shrugs off his coat, and you eye the wad of cash he takes out and sets on your kitchen counter. “I will never kill someone unless they pay me to do it. I do not like taking lives, but as one of the last Evolvers in this generation… it is my duty to help.”

Evolver? 

The layers of truth were starting to make your head spin. You could barely unravel your spiraling thoughts.

“I thought Evolvers were extinct.”

Zayne shakes his head. “We are rare, but we are still here.”

As if to solidify the truth, he holds out his hand. On his palm, the air condenses, and the temperature in the kitchen drops a few celsius. You watch, gobsmack in silence, as bits of snow appear, coalescing right into a singular teardrop-shaped crystal that unfurls into a shimmery flower with five petals.

“Ice,” Zayne explains, and slowly approaches you. He gently places the flower on the table, right where you were standing. 

He backs away, giving you some space to work out your emotions. You stare at the jasmine flower, in silent contemplation. 

It’s intricate and beautiful, but ice in itself was deadly. 

While it looked harmless falling from the sky, it had the power to bury people under its weight; causing hypothermia, avalanches, and skin burns. 

You glance at Zayne, wondering which category he belonged in—if he was a chilly breeze or an entire fucking snowstorm.

His weary gaze spoke volumes, though he let you reach your own conclusions. Zayne was giving you a choice: one many people in your life didn’t.

Stay or leave. 

Be with him or turn him away.

Two forks of an outcome; you had no idea what to choose. 

Your silence stretches on and Zayne hangs his head forward. He’s about to turn and leave, when you slowly reach out to touch the jasmine flower. It’s cool on your palm, tougher and durable. Not wet and cold like real ice.

“Crystals?” 

Your voice comes off low, hoarse. There’s a dazed look in your eyes, one which tugs on the sorrow lining his soul.

He hates to do this to you; hates how conflicted you look.

“This is what you use to kill people, don’t you?” 

Astute, again. Zayne would honestly be impressed by your wits if he wasn’t painfully aware of how you were holding him accountable for his horrendous mistakes.

“I know you think awfully of me—”

“Why kill them?” You’re breathing heavily now, anguish coating your every word. “What if you could save them, instead? Can’t that be done?”

Zayne shakes his head, unable to meet your eye. “I have spoken to a few scientists about this… but many of them were taken by the Abomination. It’s caused by constant exposure to Protocores and is incurable. The only thing I can do is make sure those infected have a swift end.”

Your silence strikes him heavier than a hit.

“Infected?" you murmur hoarsely. "Constant exposure? A swift end? Do you even hear yourself?” 

You simmer and bubble, cheeks flushed with anger. “Zayne—these are human beings! People with love, dreams and hopes. People with families. They’re not jobs or ledgers. They deserve a bit more dignity than that.”

Suddenly, the despair in his eyes turns ice cold. You’re hopeless to stop him from approaching you, and scramble back until you bump the kitchen counter, eyes wide and fearful. But, he stops just shy of your feet touching, an unfathomable expression on his face.

“I would never hurt anyone. Ever. You of all people should know. Didn’t you say you weren’t afraid of me the first time we were intimate together?” He fights hard to not let his tone turn accusatory, eyes shining with frustration and unshed tears. “What made you change your mind this time?” 

“You killed them… you killed them all,” you’re close to tears, trembling from head to toe. Zayne looks like he’s about to cry as well, begging you to see beyond the murderer you thought he was; to embrace him and hold him and share his burden, even though he knows it’s unfair to put all this weight on you.

He was so tired of pretending that everything was alright. And deep down, he knew you were, too.

This world wasn’t kind to anyone, and he only had you to soothe the ache—to be the light he looks forward to every morning. 

Please, don’t go, he wants to scream, hands balled into fists at his side. Don’t leave me alone… you are the only one I have left. 

A sob bubbles past your lips, and you wrap your arms around you; willing yourself to stand upright and be brave.

“Do you regret it?” your voice is thick, and he longs to staunch the tears falling from your cheeks, but the words are lost in his throat.

“All of them? Did you ever regret killing them?”

Zayne tightens his fists, clenching down hard enough for his nails to leave pale moon crescent indents on his palms. 

“There was a boy I had to kill once. Georgie. He would’ve been thirteen…” he closes his eyes, hoping to find some strength to push on. Zayne was so incredibly tired from constantly fighting.

“We celebrated his birthday at a cafe, too. He loved macarons. And chocolate. But, his mother gave him the disease. I had to be the one to put him down. I still think about him every time I hear ‘happy birthday’.”

His words are simple, but they make you bleed, staring at the floor with tears blurring your vision.

You fall into a thick disquiet, and so did he. Zayne stands upright, like a prisoner about to be read his final judgment; willing you to forgive him—god he hopes you find it in your heart to forgive him.

He wasn’t a good man—a fiend of the night people were afraid of. But, Zayne would never forgive himself if you didn’t take him back. He would dig his knees to the ground, beg for you to change your mind.

In the throes of his own self-loathing, he almost flinches when he feels your arms wrap around his torso. Your head thumps onto his chest, and he realizes you’re fully crying now. He embraces you fiercely, quickly. Holding you fast to him as if you both could fuse together and become one.

You leave tear stains across his blood speckled shirt, fingers digging into his shoulders as violent sobs rip through you. 

“Do you hate me?” He forces himself to ask through numb lips. Zayne doesn’t know what answer you would give—if you would even reply to him.

But, you shake your head, hiccuping his name. 

“Are you afraid?” 

There’s a slight pause, and you shudder, shaking your head again. 

Zayne nuzzles your hair, rocking you from side to side like he was comforting a hysterical child. 

Your sobs eventually stop and you’re both swaying in each other’s arms now. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. Zayne hums in confusion, and you continue. “I’m sorry for being so quick to misjudge you. You’re not the bad guy, Zayne. You were forced into this horror… our world is so fucked up and you were just trying to make it better any way you could.”

You peel your face from his chest, eyes red-rimmed and nose runny. He gently dabs at your tears and snot with the sleeve of his dress shirt, careful not to press down too hard.

He doesn’t say anything else, and you both let the silence scatter and fall where it may. Somehow, your fingers end up in his hair and he’s nudging you back against the hard counter.

Zayne lifts you up effortlessly, parting your legs wide to slot himself in between them, hands gently squeezing and groping your thighs and hips.

The need to reclaim you claws through him, searing his every coherent thought with nothing but the cry of your name.

He looks down the line of his nose, tilting your face up to the light so you meet his eyes. What he finds in your expression makes his heart ache in misery—your sadness and despondency hitting him right in the soul.

“Would you rather I stop killing people?”

It’s a loaded question, one that has your mind reeling. You eye the blood on his shirt, now soaked through with your tears. 

“Only if you promise me you will never find pleasure from it.”

He shakes his head, firm in his conviction. “Never. Not once, or ever. I can promise you that.”

“Do the police know?” 

A good question, indeed. Zayne nods, catching you off guard.

“Callaghan’s colleague. Detective Ivan. He was the one who scrubbed my records clean. He knows not to seek me out because… it means he’s next.”

Zayne lets the words hang in the air. He hears your mind whirring, thoughts piecing together.

“Detective Ivan found out and agrees with what you’re doing? So, the police are turning a blind eye?”

“Yes,” Zayne murmurs, trying hard not to fall into the gravity of your lips; forcing attention to this distressing topic. 

“He was with me when Georgie died. He saw the extent of how the Abomination takes over people. Dark as it is, he agrees with my ethics and now, I only focus on people who come to me through word of mouth. Rarely do I ever hunt them anymore. They choose this end because it is far less painful than the alternative.”

“Which is?” 

He steadies himself with a short breath. “Living as a rotting corpse with no control over your body.”

You suck in a sharp inhale. Your smaller fingers fist the front of his shirt, your mind a million miles away.

Zayne nudges your face towards him, fingers cold on your skin. He swallows hard, and you follow the motion—his throat moving, Adam’s apple bobbing. Impulsively, you lean forward, catching him off guard with a chaste kiss.

He musters a low groan when you begin to tug on his hair; sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Frantically, he grips your thighs, hips—fisting your hair to pull you closer. 

Hot breaths clash. Moans echo around the kitchen. You lean back, far enough for silvery strands of spit to connect your lips to his. 

Zayne devours the dark look in your eyes, and he thinks loving someone shouldn’t hurt this much, but for you, he would go through the agony all over again.

The tormented man wants to swallow you down, break his rib cage open and tuck you safely close to his heart. Your sighs and gasps fuel him to be better—change his ways so he could have you in his life forever. 

“Zayne,” you sigh, all syrupy and love-struck. You play with his shirt’s button, and before he can stop you, you start to unravel all of him.

“—No." He grabs your hands in a panic, stopping your intentions in loosening his buttons. Those scars on his skin flash behind his mind, marking him as a lost soul and unworthy of you.

You shake your head, determination lining your pretty features. “Don’t hide from me anymore, Zayne. I want to see you—all of you.”

He’s helpless to stop you from unfastening his armor, greeting those silvery scars with a soft gasp.

There was a reason he never fucked you with the lights on—those lacerations on his body caused him shame.

But, you don't recoil out of disgust like he expects. Instead, your pretty fingers topped with pink nail polish trace the milky white divots; those signs of pain and abuse he had to endure for his entire life.

Peering at you pass thick lashes, he sees you lick your lips, the desire on your face as clear as day.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayne.”

Not giving him a chance to speak, you dip your head forward, pressing your soft lips reverently to the scar just above his heart.

Zayne feels like something seismic has just happened—an internal earthquake which rocks him apart. 

Outwardly, the world doesn’t change; the flickering light he keeps on forgetting to fix over your sink still casts intermittent shadows across your face; the outside world whirs with sounds of robots and automated deliveries.

Nothing has changed and yet, everything inside of him has fundamentally been shifted.

A strangled sound emanates from his chest, and you look up quickly, afraid that you might have hurt him.

But, Zayne’s not in pain—not in the least. His green eyes shine verdantly like a forest after a storm, locked right onto your flushed face. You think that out of all the realities in this messed up world, you might find the real meaning of adoration in them.

He cups your face, smoothes your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said this out loud. His breathing stutters, caught off guard. And you’re staring at him, too. All wide eyes, and parted, perfect lips. 

Slowly, you defrost, bringing your hands up to your face, pressing your palms to the back of his hands. 

The silence is deafening—a pin could roll off the counter and fall to the ground, sounding like an explosion. Zayne swears he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

“I love you, too.”

Your voice is soft. Fragile. It echoes with shades of fear, but never uncertainty. 

For if there was one thing you were certain in this life, it was that you were completely, sincerely and stupidly in love with Zayne.

His eyes ripple close, and so do yours. Foreheads gently touch, breaths shared as one. The two of you stay like this for a long time, savoring this quiet, beautiful connection you had both created in such a short time.

Zayne has never known love in this lifetime. 

Slowly—surely—he was starting to warm himself up to the idea; falling deeper and deeper into a head on collision with your devotion. 

None of it scares him; how could it when it’s the stuff of his dreams? Of a forever stretching into the tiniest moments: languid mornings over shitty cereal and sappy medical romcoms on your beaten up couch and nights spent warming your sheets.

He can’t fight it; this feeling of always wanting to be by your side.

And so, he openly and fervently welcomes it.

“You’re glowing.”

Serina’s offhand comment brings you up short, and you fight back the creeping flush threatening to overtake your cheeks; preferring to bite your lower lip and turn you face away so she couldn’t see your growing smile.

Her silence isn’t judgmental this time. Rather, it’s tainted with a cynical curiosity.

“I guess Zayne really does make you happy.”

You hum, going back to your supplies of flour and sheets of freshly roasted nuts.

“He’s staying with me now.”

“Oh.”

You don’t turn to face; don’t have to because you know she’s making a face behind your back. 

“Is he coming to pick you up later?”

You think about him astride his motorcycle, dark locks whipping in the wind; fitted black trench coat, pristine suit and tie clinging right onto his frame and feel your stomach twist with nerves.

“Mhm hmm.”

Serina pauses, and you could tell she was struggling with something to say. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

Whatever it was you expected to drop from her mouth, it wasn’t this.

You turn around, and the incredulity must've been transparent on your face because she bursts into laughter, doubling forward to cackle with glee.

“Your face! You look like I just came out and told you I sold children’s blood by the bag.” 

She snorts and straightens, wheezing slightly. “I am happy for you, you idiot. I’m glad you’re not fish food yet and you’re glowing and you have a stupid amount of hickeys you try to cover up every day with that shitty concealer I got for you five fucking years ago. Point is: I’m happy for you.”

Serina emphasizes the last word, and you shyly lace your fingers together, feeling both sheepish and incredibly exasperated.

“I… Thank you.” Not knowing what else to say, you flash her a small smile, one which she returns instantly.

Scoffing, she runs a hand through her platinum blonde hair and tosses the rag she was holding across her shoulder, gesturing to the door.

“Go. I can handle closing time. I know you’re dying to see Zayne tonight.”

You perk up, in disbelief. “Serina—” 

“Leave those nuts in the fridge. They should be easy to chop up and temper with our chocolate bark tomorrow.” Hustling you out of the kitchen, you squeal at the feel of her cold fingers prodding your lower back. “Now, go. Call Zayne up and let him take you home. I’m sick of your love struck puppy expression.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, and unlace your apron. “Are you sure you can handle it? I can stay with you and help.”

Serina makes a face, though you could tell she was joking. “Ugh, and have to be around you for another hour while you pine for and miss him? Yuck. Get out of here.”

She jokingly swats you with her towel and you get her message loud and clear. 

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, you ass.”

“Goodnight, simp,” she drawls, and you scoff, rolling your eyes while you pick up your phone to call Zayne. 

Serina waits together with you, smoking a cigarette and filling you in on the latest online celebrity gossip. 

When Zayne arrives, sharp on time and sharply dressed as ever, she shoots you a smirk and a wave. You wave back, and slip on the helmet he passes you, stradling behind him to speed off into the night.

They look happy together. 

The young woman chuckles tiredly, scrubbing a hand down her face. She trudges back into the cafe, cleans up the remaining plates and cups, humming under her breath. As she fills up the dishwasher for its final load of the night, she hears the front doorbell tinkling.

Frowning, Serina wonders if you had left something behind when the sound of heavy footfalls resounds in the quiet space.

Thinking nothing of it, she straightens, a scowl on her blush rose lips.

“We’re closed,” she calls out in her most polite voice.

The presence in the dining space does not remove itself. From her stance inside the kitchen, she could just make out the silhouette of a tall man partially hidden behind the pillar separating the main hall from where she stood. 

Fuelled with distaste and annoyance, she rounds the corner, fully prepared to fight off this stranger and tell them to piss off.

“I said, we’re closed—”

Her words are cut off when she notices a faint glow of purple surrounding him. His eyes which were once blue were now soulless and drained, clapping onto hers, their pupils widening slightly.

Strange bulges appear on his body, and in the limited light, they seem to move up and down his arms. 

Crawling like they were filled with life.

She takes a step back, a sharp scream piercing the air.

The man falls back, putting his hands over his ears. He yanks on his graying hair, teeth bared and spittle splattering onto the ground.

“Shut… up…” 

His moans rattle and thump, filled with pain. He looks at her, and in the briefest of moments when they make eye contact, Serina could plainly see the anguish in them—the desperation for someone to end it all.

“Please,” his hoarse voice makes her skin crawl, her hairs stand on end. “Someone… Help me… kill me…”

The stranger falls to his knees, back arching like a cat poised to throw up all over the polished, hardwood floors. 

He heaves, and spittle drips from between his clenched teeth. Serina can’t move; completely frozen to one spot, locked on the sight of his pale hands curling into claws.

Those choked sounds he made would haunt her for the rest of her life. But, nothing could prepare her for when he lifts his head and the bulge under his right eye bursts, revealing a dark, tentacle appendage dangling from his cheek.

“Please,” he begs her with what was left of his humanity.

“You have to help me… you have to save me.”

Zayne’s arms wrap around your waist as you’re stirring a pot, his hum of adoration and contentment rumbling against your back.

“What?” you tease, picking up some bay leaves and tossing them into the fresh marinara sauce. “Are you excited to make me cook even after I slaved for a whole night in the kitchen?”

He clicks his tongue, kisses you right on your pulse point.

“Feisty. And here I was, about to fully offer you my assistance.”

He drops his arms, and you turn back to him with a pout. 

“I was joking,” you backtrack, fluttering your lashes. “I could really use your help,” and add, “Please,” when the beginning of a smirk plays on the corners of his mouth. 

“Alright,” he hums, grabbing a handful of sweet basil and a knife, chopping them up finely to be added to the pasta sauce once it was done.

It was comfortable working alongside him. Zayne didn’t need endless chatter to fill in the void, and neither did you feel obliged to talk his ear off. 

You start to hum, and he tunes in, admiring the rise and fall of the melody; how clear and bright your voice is.

“Would you like to put on some music?” He suggests, pointing to the old radio sitting atop your kitchen counter, a fine layer of dust on its smeared screen. 

You take him up on the offer, nodding. 

Zayne pushes a button and the last recording you had on plays in the room. A voice from long ago vibrates with nostalgia, reminding him of days passed and a comfort only found from warm sheets on a Sunday morning.

“Why don’t you ever let me into your home?” 

He pauses, glancing at you. “Pardon?” 

You exhale a laugh, and a teasing quality takes over your smile. “Your apartment. How come I never see it? Do you have piles of bodies you’re hiding from me?” 

A slender, calloused finger materializes by your hip, poking into your side. You flinch and giggle, locking eyes with his amused expression. 

“Careful. Do not go around unnecessarily exposing me.”

“So, you do have them under your floorboards.” 

He decides to challenge you back. “Are you afraid?” 

You scoff, picking up a wooden ladle to stir the sauce. “You must be mistaken, Zayne. For it isn’t me who should be afraid of you, but you of me.”

He resists the urge to pick you up and spin you in his arms for being so damn adorable. Reigning in the cute aggression, he titters a laugh. “And why is that so?” 

“Because,” you turn to him, your teasing smile growing wider. “I know things you don’t know. I have a certain set of skills not many have knowledge of and I can and will use them to my advantage.”

“Oh, really?” He drawls, raising a brow. The expression draws his handsome face into a comical curiosity; it nearly breaks your resolve not to laugh. “Enlighten me on these skills.” 

You clear your throat, setting the ladle down. “For example, I can bet you that I am a better dancer.”

Unexpectedly, he sweeps you into his arms, grabbing your left hand with his right and encircling the other one around your waist; you had no choice but to place your other hand on his broad shoulder to keep your balance. 

He was close—much too close—and it makes your face burn hot, your mischievous quips dying in the back of your throat. 

Zayne holds you fast, sure—swaying you from side to side as you both slowly circle the room, one gliding footstep at a time. He makes sure to lead you properly, careful to keep you two in an orbit far from mishap. 

You feel safe enough to lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breathing alongside the sweet, romantic music. Eyes falling close, you lavish in this sense of serenity and comfort you had never felt in your life.

Zayne, too, takes a second to savor this moment. He gazes at the peace suffusing across your face and feels his heart growing lighter.

I want this for the rest of my life.

The thought jolts him from his reverie; scares him enough to convince himself to take it back.

But, as much as Zayne wants to delude himself, he can’t run away from the truth.

He wants this for as long he breathes on this godforsaken planet. As long as the seas ebb and flow and the sun turns on its fucking axis—he wants you. Zayne doesn’t care what others might think; how they would make a mockery of your connection to him. He would kill anyone who tries to get between you both. 

And he hopes that deep down, you feel the same way, too.

He wakes up in the early morning to his phone vibrating on the dresser.

Zayne groans, feels a sinking weight on his chest and realizes you had fallen asleep sprawled on top of him.

His instincts override his fuzzy mind to not wake you up, nimbly grabbing his phone and answering the call without looking at the screen.

“Zayne.”

The voice on the other end jerks him fully awake, and he resists the urge to jolt upright, remembering you were still fast asleep.

“One second,” he murmurs into the receiver. The other man hums.

Zayne puts the phone back down, gently scooping you up and rolling you to the side, tucking the covers under your chin.

He sits upright, turning to plant his feet to the ground and picks the phone back up. 

“Detective Ivan?” 

“We have an emergency.” 

Zayne stops scratching his bare chest, tired green eyes sharpening from the urgency in the older man’s tone. Ivan would never call him unless it was serious and usually there was only one reason why he would. 

“An Abomination has attacked a young woman in a cafe. Nightstar Cafe. One of those oldy diners that open till early morning.”

Ivan doesn’t hear Zayne’s sharp breath, nor is he there to see how terrified the younger man looks, turning his gaze to the sleeping woman next to him.

“A young woman? Was she blonde?”

He can feel Ivan frowning on the other end. “How did you know?” 

Zayne concocts a lie. “I saw the cafe in passing. Is it serious?”

“We have no visual on the Abomination and neither on the girl. We’re stuck and we need your help. Only you can track her down.”

Zayne racks his brain, thinking of his apartment that’s almost an hour away from yours. If he could get to his tracking systems quickly, maybe there was still time to solve this case…

“Alright,” he made up his mind. “Give me half an hour to find her. I’ll alert you to her whereabouts.”

Ivan breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Zayne.”

“Do not mention it.” He clicks off the call, turns to find you still fully asleep. As quietly as he could, he stands and gets ready, dressing in a nondescript black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, bundling up with his trench coat to keep the autumn chill at bay.

Just as he’s about to grab his bike keys, he hears you stirring.

“Zayne?” 

Your voice is fringed with exhausted curiosity, bleary eyes blinking and trying to pin onto his figure in the total darkness.

He’s next to you in a heartbeat, bending down to place a kiss on your forehead. “I have an emergency. You stay here and rest, alright? Wait for me. I’ll be home for you soon.”

You could only nod obediently, watching him rush out of the room; the front door closing behind him with a loud thud. 

Wondering what could’ve spurred Zayne into such a frantic mode, you close your eyes, about to drift off when you hear a knock. 

Woozily, you get to your feet, stifling a yawn. The hem of his too big shirt brushes your thighs, and you rub your eyes, frowning when the knocks get more insistent.

“Coming,” you call out, and trudge to the front door. 

Peering through the security monitor, your heart skips a beat when you notice your best friend on the other side, her expression wild; eyes darting down the hallway and jaw strained.

“Serina? What’re you doing here at this time?” 

Your voice carries out to the front, and you hear her over the security intercom.

“Babe, please. Let me in. Something terrible has happened. I can’t explain it, but I need your help.”

She sounds afraid and terrified, and your heart squeezes in fear when she glances down the hallway again, as if she were being chased.

Without another thought, you unlatch the door for her, and she comes barreling in, sinking to the floor the second you shut the door closed.

You fall to your knees next to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Squinting in the darkness, you faintly make out splotches of darkness on her tank top, and it’s not until you switch on the lights that you notice it’s blood. 

“Serina!” you gasp, and in the brightness, her irises have completely pin pricked, only a thin ring of blue surrounding them. 

She grabs your hands, tugs you closer to her face. Your heart is about to fly out of your chest, and you fight back, trying to break free from her grasp.

But, she’s fueled by fear and something else—something which ramps her paranoia up to concerning levels.

“Man. Wanderer. He hurt me. Tried to kill me. I ran… I ran here. I had no idea where else to go.”

Her words slur and clash in a cacophony of confusion. You can’t make heads or tails what she’s trying to say, but you attempt to piece it together for her sake.

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe.” You grab her thin shoulders in your white-knuckled grip, trying to shake the fear out of her. There was no time for confusion; you needed to know exactly what happened to her. “Start from the beginning, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand.”

Without warning, tears fill her eyes and she pitches her head forward, breaking into silent sobs. 

Your arms automatically wrap around her, pulling her into your embrace. She cries, screams and wails, breaking down in total fear.

“It’s okay,” you soothe her, like how you had soothed Zayne many, many times in the aftermath of his nightmares. “You’re fine. You’ll be safe.”

She shakes her head, hiccuping incoherently. “He hurt me. He cut me with his teeth. I—” A full body shudder goes through her. 

Alarmed, you rock back on your haunches, eyes wide and locked on her pinched expression. “Serina, are you okay—?” 

The words die on the tip of your tongue, and you instinctively stand up, backing towards the wall when you notice her eyes starting to glow a bright purple.

“Serina—!”

She curls onto the ground, crying out in pain. Her body starts to writhe, and a gruesome crunching sound cracks through the air.

Too late to escape, you watch in horror as her body convulses, the bones of her spine breaking and twisting. Her skin turns a revolting shade of purple, and spittle froths down her mouth.

Before the petrifying purple light entirely consumes her body, she manages to hoarsely cry out two words which shakes you to your core: 

“Save me.”

SOBS im sorry to have to cut it here but it was too long </3 last part coming soon !! reblogs and feedback are sincerely appreciated 🩷

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy my concept, repost my stories or translate and post them to other platforms

[starhvney]

can you do an angsty laurance mcd (romantically) where reader has been waiting for his return and they reunite after he was stuck in the neither?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he can’t stay with you as long as the war underground calls to him. to stay with you he has to leave, not returning until three years later. 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, lots of resent and crying, but then hurt/comfort, malachi is reader’s adopted son with laurance cause i said so

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: omg the past two weeks have been so busy i actually thought i might have gone insane if i didn’t have this day off to write this. but i'm back from the dead(work) anyways this prompt has actually been in my mind a lot so thank you for the request! hope it hurts

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“please come back with me. you don’t have to do this.”

your chest hurt. whether it was from the man in front of you or the unbearable heat, you weren’t sure, but you found yourself choking on the air, lungs constricting and heart rushing cold blood uncomfortably fast through your veins. 

you could tell he was angry that you came here. not at you. no, never at you. but the fact you came alone and risked your safety for him again had him nearly spiraling, his jaw clenched and hands gripping uncomfortably tight against your arms.

it was still him, you reminded yourself, as you pleadingly looked up to the pools of blood red that pierced through you. it was an unsettling shade, the color startling against his face yet somehow dull and dark at the same time. it was so different from the steel blue before it, and the beautiful green before that. 

yes, you’d seen him in many different ways, and though he was naturally taller, and the air around him sent an anxious wave down your spine, it was still him.

the same olive skin and caramel hair, though a duller shade.

the same shape of his face.

the same determination in his eyes. 

the same urge to protect you, no matter how much this new form of his ached to do the opposite. 

“i told you not to follow me. you shouldn’t be here—”

“i couldn’t just let you leave!”

he sucks in a breath, your name leaving his lips with a sense of urgency and irritation.

“…i can’t go with you. you know i can’t.” his voice is tight, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your eyes glossing over. “it would be selfish. i put you at risk just by being next to you.”

you start to shake your head, but swallow down your next words at the way he says your name again, desperate for you to understand. 

“he’s in my head when you’re near me. i can’t keep you safe when it’s just us, because it isn’t just us. that calling clouds my mind and—he almost got to me, and you know it. i almost killed you.”

you’re silenced by this, knowing he was right. the horror on his face when he realized his blade was raised against you had set forward the timeline that got him here. he’d forever feel chained to this place unless he broke the chains himself.

“if i ever want to have a future with you, i have to do this. don’t you understand? until this war is over you have to stay away.”

“no…” you shake your head, tears beginning to spill from your lashes.

it was out of your control. the salty crystalline that slipped down your face. it was the same as the man in front of you, each second left with him like trying to hold water in your hands, continuing to slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it. 

his eyes close, face pained, looking like someone was about to end his second life right there where he stood. 

“i love you. i always will. you have to know i’m doing this for you.”

he dips down, lips crashing into yours with a desperation that you couldn’t put into words. it’s not enough, too short-lived as his hands suddenly grip your waist, manhandling you up as he carries you to the portal.

“no, no! laurance, put me down! you have to come with me!” tears have turned into hysteria, your fists pushing and beating against him to no avail.

“i’m doing this for you.” his voice wavers shakily, contradicting his firm hold and long strides. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m hurting you again and i’m so sorry.”

“stop! i won’t go through that portal unless i know you’re coming with me.”

your name leaves his lips once more, pleading and desperate for you to understand. “i’ll return to you. i swear i will.”

his arms tighten around you, face shifting to rest in the crook of your neck and lips pressing against the skin for just a moment. you think he could’ve changed his mind, but the next second your feet are back on the ground, and his hands are gently pushing you through the portal in your disorientation.

you stumble through, cool air meeting your back as the nether fades from your vision and is replaced by the overworld. your feet trip over the other as you try to catch your step, falling back and turning to look back at the portal through your hazy vision. before you can scramble back the purple mist solidifies, shattering and collapsing to the floor into crystallized pieces.

you started in shock for who knows how long, curled on the stone beneath you as sobs wracked your whole body.

you don’t remember the trip back to phoenix drop after that. you only recall the horrid feeling that your heart had just been torn from your body, left behind in the fiery hell it’s owner had condemned himself to. 

that emptiness never evaded you either. you went through day-to-day life completing your duties as normal. but at night when you were left with your thoughts, your mind wandered to him. the space in your bed felt bitterly cold, almost as if the emptiness was taunting you of the lack of his presence.

the boy the two of you had taken in as your own all that time ago was extra sweet on you, despite all the time you had missed with him. when you returned that night he had looked at you expectantly, only for his green eyes to fade in hope as he saw your puffy eyes and grieved expression.

soon a whole year had passed. then another. then another. it was what you had presumed to be another ordinary day, as you prepared a lunch for you and malachi to share on his break. you recognize his footsteps, but when you turn to greet him you’re met with a concerned expression and heavy pants from the boy.

“he’s back.”

you hate how you immediately knew what he meant, even after all this time. how your heart swelled tightly in your chest and rushed the adrenaline into your veins. 

you can only stare blankly at the boy in the doorway, mouth open in shock and mind scrambling for some sort of reaction to give. he turns to look at something approaching him from out of sight, a protective frown forming on his face.

“mom, do you want to see him? you have to tell me now.”

a small part of you wants to say no, to resentfully send that man away for the loneliness he left you with. your head is nodding before your thoughts can resist, following the desperate tug in your chest rather than your brain screaming for the opposite.

your breath hitches when the taller man who had been haunting your mind for so long steps into view. you wonder if maybe you had fallen ill and this is all just a fever dream, but you know it’s not a hallucination or a memory as you take in his appearance. 

he looks like a man returning from war, circles under his eyes darker than they had been all those years ago. new scars are littered across the skin that you could see, and his posture was that of extreme exhaustion.

him and your son stare at each other for a moment in the doorway, a silent and sort of awkward moment that you couldn’t decipher being exchanged. malachi gives you one last wary glance, before disappearing from your sight and leaving the two of you alone.

you want to scream at him, hit him, something. but you can only focus on the lump building in your throat, choking your airways as a painful sob threatens to break out from your chest.

he takes a step forward, then another. then another. soon he’s right in front of you, not in the haze of your dreams but tangible and real. 

his hand, rough and scarred, lifts up to cup your soft cheek, fingers trembling as if you had sent a shock through them just by the contact. your name shakily leaves his lips, and you finally look up to his face.

you’re greeted with steel blue, glazed over with pain and guilt. something about them is much more hardened than when you saw him last, yet he still manages to look at you tenderly, full of a deep devotion he could never get rid of even through his years spent in hell.

his thumb brushes away the damp streaks from under your eyes, and you finally realize you had begun to cry. you had thought about this moment many times. how you’d call him a bastard for leaving you alone and kick him out to get a taste of his own medicine. or maybe you’d tell him all about the loneliness he’d put you through, watching his face drop with guilt.

instead of using any of the dialogue you had prepared in your moments of spite, you can only utter a few words, voice choked on your tears. 

“is it over?”

he nods, eyebrows furrowing together and lip curling as if your voice had caused him physical pain after years of deprivation from the sound.

you collapse forward into his arms, years of raw emotion crashing down on you all at once as you begin to sob.

“it’s over. if you let me in i’ll never leave again.” his hushed voice speaks into your hair, the deep and roughened tone vibrating through his chest. “but if you want nothing to do with me anymore you only have to say the word and i will obey.”

you can only shake your head, chest heaving as you grip the linen shirt he wore and attempt to steady yourself on your feet. there’s not much need for your efforts though, when he picks you up into a tight embrace, holding you to him as he trembles at the feeling of your body once again pressing into his. 

“i’ll never leave you again. i’m so sorry. my light in the darkness. please forgive me.”

he carries you to the nearest chair, fingers running through your hair like they were delicate strands of gold and continuing to hold you to him like you were the only thing worth any value in this life. as you continued to cry you felt tears that were not your own drip onto your skin, the shaky breaths and hitches in his chest proving you weren’t just imagining things as he too wept into the crook of your neck.

you two stay there for a long time, until the afternoon sun faded to a dim evening light, casting a warm haze into the room. it’s not until then that you feel composed, lifting yourself from where you had limply collapsed into his arms.

his hands gently hold your face, rubbing away the leftover tears and puffiness from your eyes. his own eyelids were red, eyes glossy. now that you’re looking at him you can see just how much his time away had changed him. 

his once lovely olive skin had sallowed into a paler shade, leaving him sickly looking. his cheeks were thinner, and the lack of body fat wasn’t just on his face. he remained muscular, yet he somehow looked malnourished at the same time, his scarred skin stretching over his bones and muscles in a way that didn’t look healthy.

your fingers trail along healed over cuts that hadn’t been there before, gulping down the urge to cry again. how many times did he have to patch himself up, suffering in pain while fighting to get back to you?

“hey.” he gently pinches your cheek in his hand, noticing your eyes unfocus as your mind wanders. 

you look up to him, taking in a shaky breath as you reach up to cup his jaw in your hand. immediately he leans into it, a deep sigh leaving his nose as he practically deflates at your touch.

“when did you get back…?”

he sighs, looking up at you through his lashes.

“i came here as soon as i came back through the portal… malachi was on patrol and spotted me at the gates.” his eyes grow distant. “he was… pretty angry with me. looked like he wanted to kill me as soon as i walked in the village.”

he chuckles dryly, looking at the wall behind you. “he cussed me out pretty good before leading me here. he had some good reasons for doing so, too…" he takes in a shaky breath. "i’m proud of him. i’m relieved to know he was watching over you when i wasn’t. that kid’s grown up to be a good man.”

“he is.” you agree, voice quiet in the moment, unable to come up with any words.

his hand drifts to brush your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing to brush along your jaw. “you have plenty of reasons to hate me, too.”

“he doesn’t hate you.” you quickly say. “and i don’t either.”

“i was scared you would. sure you would.”

your eyes drift from the guilty pull of his brow and the pain in his eyes, down to the slope of his nose and the curve of his mouth.

“i couldn’t.” you whisper, before leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

he wraps his arms tighter around you, breath stuttering as he returns the affection. very quickly it evolves to you being left breathless as he practically devours you, kissing you like a man who had been starved of his lover's touch for three years.

reluctantly he pulls away, gritting his teeth as he once again finds himself reigning his self control in with you. he doesn’t go too far though, his huffs of air meeting your lips as he whispers.

“it’s late. i should go.”

“go where?”

“just the inn down the road—”

“no. stay here tonight.”

he stares at you before closing his eyes, a low groan leaving his throat. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you quickly respond, hands cupping his face.

he gulps, before pulling you tightly to himself and lifting you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom.

“okay. i’ll stay.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[kurithedweeb]

Yes!!

I have an image in mind of Garroth, shield in front, slowly making his way through the battlefield with Vylad following closely, directing him where to go so he can get the perfect angle to take out enemy archers. When arrows rain down on them, Dante slips behind Garroth like Danny hiding from bullets behind Luke in Defenders (TV) and as they notch their next arrows Dante darts forth to thin out their numbers, using a body as cover to get back to Garroth, rinse and repeat. Slowly but inevitably turning the tide of the battle.

Thinking of giving Garroth a greatshield...

Garroth, a tank of a man in plate armor, carrying around a big ol' shield that weighs half of what his armor does all on its own. Standing up front in a battle with one of his guards hovering at his shoulder on the shield side so his shield nearly completely covers them too. Setting his stance and being used as cover for one of the archers to hide behind while they ready shots. Using the shield like a weapon to shove an enemy or beast away or herd them into an ally's space for the final blow.

Big Shield.

[brandileigh2003]

Wolfstar fic recs featuring disability, chronic illness, chronic pain, or characters who are deaf or blind

**please feel free to drop your own fic or recs in comments and I'll add.

~~~please give these authors love, comments and interaction means more than you know. ~~

orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond divorced wolfstar get back together, flashbacks to remus getting diagnosis, breakup, and Sirius dealing with alcoholism. Raising teddy. Hea.

-love finds a way by littleoldrachel: Jurassic Park exes to lovers

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe: @lavenderhaze get back together, raising teddy, the second has mcd but if you just read first you can pretend he's ok? (I know I have friends who don't touch mcd with 10ft pole)

-(really you can't go wrong with any of peachyybabe, disability, chronic illness and/or mental health/illness in all.

-Forget the World by @amberlink mcd. Sirius is a surgeon, saves remus' life and they marry for insurance. But ofc fall in love along the way as Remus' heart gets worse. this was so good and explored brief as well

-my jokes are my armour, my kindness is my sword by @littleoldrachel remus owns flower shop and meets the gang (seizures and chronic pain

-Like Real People Do by third_crow coffee shop au, also sirius raising harry. So good.

-Tender is the touch (of someone that you love too much) by @purplefiction-ao3 remus has heart condition, written by person with chronic illness themselves

-Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations by TheQueerTailor Sixth year has just started and Remus is barely keeping up. He's just sixteen but it feels like his body is falling apart.

-heat and balance by @eyra also interesting look into Sirius dual role of partner and caregiver

-We’ll Make It Out Alive by wolfstar_addict417 texting fic, raising teddy

-the mayors of simpleton by fruity_individual get back together, remus is blind, raising teddy

-Found Heaven by fierrochase fluffy text fic, so cute together

-Black's Anatomy by @grasslesss greys anatomy fic, remus has lupus

-The Sickness Unto Death by oliverdalstonbrowning university au, remus has cystic fibrosis

-Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by @poppunkpadfoot bookshop au, sirius raising harry

-My Only Sunshine by Loua29xx: remus had cancer. Mcd

- Young Blood by viwrites @just--vi road trip au, jegulus main, remus has heart condition (I've been told the 2nd focus more on wolfstar, haven't gotten there yet)

-I Don't Care if My Heart Breaks by orphan_account: bookshop au, remus has cerebral palsy

-Be silent like deep water by @her-smile-forges-galaxies remus is deaf

-Give Me A Sign by@theresthesnitch soulmate fic, remus is deaf. Wip

-Kill Your Darlings by MesserMoon: @sophsicle jegulus main but remus is deaf. Hockey and University au

-Signs of Affection by KittyCargo: remus is deaf, teacher asl

-For the Love of Ducks by viwrites Remus has heart condition

-a lot of Lucigoo89 feature in some way. @lucigoo this is a great example- Finding my fate in the sensory room

-Sweets and Books by Writer_INFJ_2w1: bookshop au, chronic pain

- feel what its like to be new by peachyybabe: boarding school au, sirius is blind

-Rarer Than One in a Million by Sp00nhater wolfstar is so soft and sweet, meet in hospital

-one shot: Another New Potion? by depressed_and_nauseous

-wip: bite the hand by raggedypond: zombie apocalypse

-The Language of Flowers by B1ackCatChatsBack Remus has ra, flower shop

-Good Old Fashioned Lover Boys by Hell_Again: bakery au

-Casimir Pulaski Day by breadpoetssociety: cancer, mcd

-Forever Is a State of Mind by orphan_account (deaf remus)

-Living Like We're Renegades by orphan_account (hoh remus, university)

-Mile High by quidditery chronic pain

-this is not a temporary love (now my heart is in your hands) by littleoldrachel (pining, abandoned as far as I know, but worth it!!!)

-I Didn't Come Here to Party, I Only Came for the Cake by attheendoftheday gbbo Remus with fibromyalgia

-Six Feet Apart by Belle_Lestrange101 pandemic fic, Remus has hiv

-Beyond the Heartbeat by bizarrestars: ultimately a story about grief of regulus, with the middle soft wolfstar falling in love. Remus and illness is featured.

-Small Bones of Courage by Anonymous mcd, please read tags, sensitive topics. Later in life lycanthropy is terminal for remus.

-Fractured Skies by orphan_account coffee shop fic, Sirius is deaf, Remus has epilepsy

-as it was by peachyybabe A story about falling in love with a stranger in a bookstore and learning how to live again.

-An Infinte Ocean orphan_account: teddy has cf, Sirius is amputer

-Blind Werewolf McWolf by orphan_account Remus is blind

-Message from Seat 25A by PleaseDonateBlood 1 shot lupus

-if you were a waiting room. by beaniesandblackcoffee

-Time May Change Me by Kaymardsa lupus

-Underneath It All by Kaymardsa: seizures, texting fic

-i don't want to be your muse by yellowmarshmallow muggle asexual remus with chronic fatigue syndrome

-waiting room by haey1

-Remus lupins guide on how to (not) become a quidditch seeker by Girl_rotting

-Physiotherapy by @missmoonfrost Sirius helping remus see his body and therapy in another light

***all of my fics have disability or chronic illness rep two of my faves: silence between us (deaf remus + disability) and inevitable (cancer, mcd)**

These are prb widely known but...

-Highland Fling [+podfic] by @picascribitremus has lupus. They meet when Sirius is backpacking

-Text Talk by merlywhirls: Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number.

-Blends by rvltn909 coffee shop (sequel names goes into it a lot more)

-A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP: both harry and remus disabled

-Discards by picascribit read tags , sensitive subjects: remus has hiv

-A Wolf's Heart by mizdiz : meet in bookshop, remus has heart problems, mcd

-Problems with Narrative Structure and the Rules of Manly Engagement by @xinasvoice : get together fic, remus is an author has fibromyalgia

@just--vi did a tiktok video with these mentioned too that I forgot (give her some love)

-A Wolf, A Bear, A Dungeon Master, and Boy Wonder by ratmom819

-Forever is Definitely Punk Rock by orphan_account (lupus)

-Put Your Head on My Shoulder by jennandblit

-Sunshine on Leith by eyra

Spoons and Stars by Chlobliviate (Rec from glittery-grandma) chronic fatigue and pain, wolfstar in uni

Others who sent me recs:

With different eyes by Shadowmun: blind Sirius is a seer. (haven't read this but def it's on my list) Also check out ao3 or tumblr there are some others that aren't wolfstar @mundrakan

---feel free to check it my main rec list

I shall also direct you to some lists by the @wolfstarlibrarian I'm sure there is some in common but they also have more one shots that I unfortunately usually don't track for the most part (this is amazing account, and not mine, but give them lots of love)

Wolfstar + Chronic Pain, Wolfstar w/Disabilities, Deafness, & Blindness, Wolfstar Hospital AUs, Sick Fic Oneshots, Terminally/Chronically Ill Remus Fics

••new additions

-Finding Warmth by Moony (adashofinspiration): deaf remus and blind Sirius

•As I Held My Breath by moodymoony103, niffler934 (82k) modern get together, teacher remus, Sirius raising regulus' daughter

[untaemedqueen]

A Lions Pride

Mafia Leader!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Series Warnings: Death (On Page), Blood (On Page), Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), MCD, Dark Romance, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Kitten, Guns, Knives, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Anti-Heroes

A/N: This book is dark. I mean, it is a mafia book but it is going to test everything you know about Jimin and Kitten. Jimin is NOT a good man, we know this. We know what he does for a living. Some things Jimin or Kitten will do will have no remorse and once we understand this, we can truly enjoy their journey. Good luck, squad~ Enjoy the ride~!

Chapter Warnings: Car Chase, Possessive!Jimin, Daddy!Kink, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Hair Leash, Fellatio, Deep Throating, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

Chapter 1. 

Your body clock is not working properly. You should have already been up by now, waiting for the alarm to go off so you can get out of bed. But this morning, you're roused by the loud screeching of your alarm with a wince.

Tilting your body towards the noise, your hand raises only to slam down on the device with a sharp thud.

Your eyes open blearily only to take in the paintings you've acquired over your years of marriage.

"Easy, kitten," your husband grumbles, wrapping his arm around you and burying his face into your neck.

"I have to get up," you whisper, clearing your throat of sleep.

"No," Jimin breathes defiantly, curling his hand around your waist, "Stay. I'll get the cubs to school."

"It's Wednesday, it's your day to rest."

Jimin lifts his head lazily, one eye opening to take you in as the sun begins to rise and highlight your bedroom in beautiful colors.

"You're five months pregnant, you should rest."

"Don't tell me what to do," you whisper, booping his nose and throwing the covers off of your body.

Running a hand through his hair, he grabs your pillow as you rise only to pull it towards himself.

Even after all these years together, you're still the most beautiful woman your husband has ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is the luckiest son of a bitch and he'll be damned if you don't know it.

"Kitten, have I ever told you how hot you are?"

You hum gently, feigning confusion. Standing tall, you stretch out your limbs which are achy and dull with pregnancy pains.

"Not enough," you chirp playfully, grabbing your robe.

"You're very hot, baby," your husband breathes into the pillow below his face.

"You're pretty hot, too, daddy," you quip, heading to the bathroom.

Your husband groans long and low, lifting his head as you shut the door. "Don't get me excited when you're leaving!"

"Hawon," you breathe, blinking at your nine year old daughter as she steals one of Hana's pieces of toast.

"What? She's not gonna eat it," she mumbles, with a full mouth.

"What did we say about talking with your mouth full?" Jimin inquires, making himself known as he waltzes around the breakfast bar.

He kisses your temple, grabbing his coffee cup. "Thank you, Chae."

The sweet maid simply nods, going back to cleaning the oven.

"Talking with your mouth full makes you choke to death," Minseok announces, looking up from his Nintendo Switch.

"Who told you that?!" your husband cries, choking on his coffee.

"Uncle Yoongi!" Hana cheers, grabbing her orange juice.

You can only roll your eyes, nudging your husband with a scoff.

Raising children in a family of gun runners and murders isn't as easy as one might think.

"I'll talk to him," he promises, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing.

"Mom?" Hana asks, swinging her legs sweetly.

"Hmm," you hum, wiping Sejeong's messy mouth as he grabs handfuls of scrambled eggs.

"Why are you having a stinky boy and not a girl?" your youngest daughter breathes.

"Girls are stinky! Not us! You smell!" Minseok retorts, pointing his finger at his little sister.

"Do we point at people? Is that nice?" you ask your son as Jimin grabs his little hand.

Your husband bites down on his index finger gingerly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Girls are still stinky," Seok huffs, folding his arms.

Mornings are always filled with this sort of family banter and Jimin loves it, if he's being honest. There's something so satisfying about seeing his family grow and interact and love one another. For years he never expected to be able to have something like this and now the head Lion finally has it all.

Running his hand over your pregnant belly, he sets down his coffee.

"Daddy?" Hawon chirps, grabbing her glass of milk and looking up from her book.

"Hmm, princess?" he breathes, looking over at her.

"Can I have twenty dollars?"

"For what?" he asks, pushing some hair back behind her ear.

"There's this new book at the school fair today about the reference and identification of the most significant amphibians, reptiles and mammals. I'd like to read it."

You can only smirk at her wide eyes, how excited she gets about reading. You were never studious and neither was Jimin, so you constantly question where this big brained daughter came from late at night during your pillow talks.

"Nerd," Minseok breathes, burying his face back in his game.

"You're a nerd," Hawon mumbles, holding out her hand and smiling widely.

Jimin kisses the top of her head and opens up one of the multitude of hiding spots of money only to produce a twenty dollar bill for his daughter.

"Can I have twenty?" Hana beams, holding out her own small hand.

Your husband chuckles deeply, the sound soothing your soul.

"What does my six year old girl need?"

"...Ice cream?"

Snorting softly, you pass Sejeong his sippy cup as he wobbles pleasantly within his high chair.

"I'll buy you ice cream later, I promise," her father whispers, kissing her forehead.

Turning your head to the clock, you stand up straight. "Alright, let's go. School time."

"Uuuugh," Minseok groans, jumping off the bar stool and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Hey, mister," Jimin breathes, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, "it's too early for an attitude. If the school calls me again today, I'm taking your Switch away. Understood?"

"Mkay," Seok murmurs, pouting at you.

"Come on," you breathe, handing the bib over to Jimin and kissing his temple.

"Be careful driving. Take care of my little man in there," he whispers, running a hand over your stomach, "I love you. Love you kids!"

Your children mumble their love as they leave your large penthouse apartment and you give him a quick kiss on the lips before following after them.

"Jeong, when you get older you're gonna be a good boy, right?" your husband asks your smallest baby, getting down to his height and sipping his coffee.

The baby sputters his tongue and lips almost as if answering the question perfectly and Chae laughs, grabbing some bowls off of the breakfast bar.

Jimin narrows his eyes at his son and pinches his chubby cheek sweetly.

There's something about your days being so regimented that it brings you peace. Albeit, they can be a little boring but after your years of excitement -- boring is welcome.

You like hearing about Hawon's day and how she secretly whispers to you about a boy she likes in her class so Jimin doesn't hear. You like hearing about Minseok's adventures in pissing off Ms. Choi even though you'll have to chide him for it later. And you enjoy hearing about Hana's day as she tells you new words she learned and childish but fun science experiments.

But there are some days, like now, that the Vixen is pulled out of you by force.

Jimin wanted his kids to go to an esteemed, rich private school where a bunch of other mafia families drop their kids off for the day. He wants them to have a good education and understand that at the end of the day you need to work hard for your money like you both have.

After dropping them off, you round the corner to head to Hyunah's new restaurant when a brawl catches your eye.

Busan streets can be dangerous but they shouldn't be dangerous at eight o'clock in the morning. And you would have driven right by if a very, very familiar brand on some of the boy's necks weren't showing.

Slowing the Escalade down, your hand makes a fist and you punch the glove box open wordlessly. Grabbing your gun, you aim it at the window as it slowly lowers.

"You fucking pussy! Don't you dare ever touch my girl, you understand me?!"

Oh good, they aren't fighting about guns.

Whistling sharply, you stop your car in front of the eight men.

They angle their heads low to look in and when the four Lions spot you, they stand up straighter.

One of them catches your eye immediately and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Who the fuck are you pointing a gun at, bitch? You b--" the man is cut off as the Lions tackle him to the ground.

"Oh," you breathe, looking down at your nails.

Shutting off your car, you climb out with a sigh.

The streets are quiet this morning and you count your stars that no ordinary person is passing by this old run down street at the moment. They might see something unfortunate that could scar them for life.

Rounding the car hood, you click your teeth softly.

"My little Lions, it's too early for this. You're gonna make me late for brunch," you hiss, smacking the Lion you know the closest upside the head.

"Noona, I'm so sorry," he whines, rubbing the back of his head as he cringes.

"Hoonie," you sigh, twirling your gun around your finger.

You watch with bored eyes as the men continue to fight and when one of them looks over at you, Sanghoon shields your body with his own.

"Who are you imbeciles anyway?" you inquire, motioning your hand for Hoon to stop all this nonsense.

"They're under Oh Byung, they're Hyenas and one of them touched my fucking girl like she was a piece of meat!" one of your Lion's hisses, being tugged away from the fray.

You look over your boys with a sigh, they're beaten bloody with split lips and black eyes but the Hyenas look even worse and you can deal with that.

Holding your gun up, you tilt your head.

It's only when a police car passes by that the Hyenas know who they're dealing with. They begin to smile at your audaciousness, hearing the siren as you hold your gun up in broad daylight but they begin to wither when you tilt your head slowly to the cop car.

"Hands up!" one of the police officer's screams, jumping out of the car.

You hold your hands up and flash them the tattoo on your wrist.

"Oh! Mrs. Park, good morning! These men troubling you?"

Twirling your finger, your Lions show their brands to the cops and they step behind you as you look down at your nails once more.

"Yes, they are. I'm late for brunch now because of these stupid morons. I'm pregnant, hungry and tired," you breathe, passing Sanghoon your gun.

He sheathes it under his belt and you sigh loudly once more.

"Do you want us to take them in?" the officer asks.

You look them over, they seem drunk and strung out and it wouldn't be in your best interest to get into a turf war with Oh Byung who you've never even met before.

"No," you surmise, heading back to your car.

"But, Madam! They touched my g--"

The Lion stops themself when you simply tilt your head. "If you have a concern about it, you can bring it up to my husband at the meeting tomorrow. You can ask for vengeance then. I, however, as I have said countless times already, am late for brunch. Do you expect me to have to stand here on some random filthy street while you exact your revenge and I'll have to clean it up for you by having to parley with Oh Byung?"

The sharpness of your voice makes the Lions wince and the Hyenas stare down at you in confusion.

"I'm sorry, Madam. I'll bring up the matter tomorrow evening. I apologize."

You hum in agreement, rounding the car.

"Officers, good morning. Sanghoon, get your fucking ass in this car before I kill you myself," you hiss, opening the door and climbing in.

"Yes, noona," he whispers, rushing over to the passenger side and slapping a Hyena on the cheek in passing.

Peeling away from the curb, you watch in the rear view mirror as the police begin to split up both of the groups and you roll your eyes with a sigh.

"You're better than that, Hoonie," you chide the flower boy.

With a whine, he leans over to put his hand on your growing bump. "I didn't even do anything, noona. It wasn't my fault."

Most of the Lions know just how much you adore this younger man, since you've raised him from just a mere pickpocket to the brute he is now. Everyone knows he's your favorite.

"You're supposed to be keeping them in line, not letting them fight in the middle of the street on a random Wednesday morning! C'mon, Hoonie, you need to be smarter than that!"

With a sigh, he nods and pulls away from you. "I'm sorry, noona. I'll be better."

"Yeah, you better be."

Stepping into the restaurant, you nod your head to the hostess and she smiles at you widely.

"Mrs. Park, good morning! Hyunah is waiting for you in the private room!"

You hum in agreement, taking off in the direction without a word.

As you walk, you don't feel the familiar presence of the man you just picked up off the street and when you turn around to look at him, you roll your eyes.

"Sanghoon!"

There the handsome man stands, leaning against the hostess podium with a toothpick between his teeth. His smirk is broad and handsome as he flirts with the girl. He looks over at you quickly, watching how your eyebrow raises and your hands come crashing down on your hips.

"Call me," he quips to the hostess, jogging to be by your side.

"I am gonna shoot you," you hiss at him, turning on your heel.

"Come on, noona. She was pretty hot," he breathes, pushing the room door open.

"You think everyone is hot," you scoff, smiling at Hyunah and taking off your sunglasses.

"Little Lion causing big trouble?" your friend teases, leaning over the table to kiss your cheek.

"Clearly. Morning, gorgeous," Yoongi breathes, kissing your temple and smacking Sanghoon upside the head.

"Ow!" Hoon whines, falling into his chair beside you and folding his arms.

Yoongi pulls out your chair for you and when you sit down, he stands behind you like always.

It's a weird dynamic Hyunah and him have now as their years go on. You expect him to always be by her side but that's never the case. He's always behind you, he's always been your confidante and your right hand man. You would have expected things to change but they never do.

Lighting a cigarette, your older friend leans back in her chair.

"Can you eat? Are you sick with this one?" she asks, ashing her cigarette.

"This baby is very good so far," you reply, throwing the word at her.

She hums in agreement, pouring herself a glass of sangria.

"What do you want to drink?" Yoongi inquires over your shoulder.

"Sparkling water," you reply.

"Hoon," your right hand man calls, leaving the room.

You watch them both leave and you quip an eyebrow to Hyunah as she sips her drink.

"Lioness…" she begins, crossing her legs, "promise me something."

Her voice is low with sorrow and you sigh.

"What'd you read in your tea leaves this time?" you jeer, folding your arms.

She doesn't smile, she doesn't take your words lightly like you expect her to. She just exists in the same space and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Promise me you will always take care of Yoongi and the Lees. Can you do that for me?"

The tip of your tongue runs over your bottom lip and you pull the petal into your mouth to peel some skin off. She's deadly serious and it courses concern through your bones.

"Hyunah… What're you talki-"

"I said," she hisses, venomously, leaning forward, "promise me that you will look after my fucking family."

"You know I will. You know I promise," you breathe, confused.

She gives a small sigh of relief then. "I knew you would, I just needed to hear it."

"Care to tell me what's going on?" you inquire, watching the doors open up once more.

"No. I do not," she mumbles, pulling from her cigarette.

You watch the smoke shroud her face like some sort of ethereal veil and you clear your throat when Yoongi puts the water in front of you.

"Where's Sanghoon?" you mumble, grabbing the water.

"Hitting on the hostess," your friend replies.

You watch his eyes flicker over to his wife as he sits down and you can see an animosity in his irises that makes you want to shudder.

This man for the past nine years has loved his wife so completely and so confidently that this random flit of anger has you seemingly confused.

It wasn't like this last week or even four days ago when you last saw them.

Four days ago, Yoongi was all over Hyunah at one of your meetings and now he doesn't even seem to want to look at her.

"Let's order," the head of the Lees breathes, burning out her cigarette.

Yoongi wafts the smoke away from your face and when Hyunah gets up to leave the room, you search his eyes for understanding.

"Don't," he warns you softly, coursing his rough hands over his face.

"Yoon-"

"I said don't," he hisses, smacking the table roughly.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you put your hand to your stomach and he swallows thickly as his eyes follow your hand. "Just leave it alone. Please, Y/N, for me. Just leave it."

"I'm just confused," you whisper, leaning towards him.

He gives a short, full laugh only to roll his eyes moments later. "Yeah, you're not the only fucking one."

"You can talk to me, Yoongi. You know that don't you?"

He takes a short breath between his teeth, running a hand over the back of your head. "I know. But there's nothing to talk about, okay? Hyunah is just being Hyunah and while it hurts me to say it… She has to handle her own problems. She doesn't want to talk to me."

You cringe softly at his pained voice and you can only sip your water as the Vixen who brought you up in the world reenters the room. She watches her husband pull away from you and clearing her throat, she sits back down.

"I ordered you porridge, you're too skinny with this baby," she breathes, grabbing her linen napkin and draping it over her lap.

"Thank you," you reply kindly, folding your arms.

You wouldn't be the woman you are if you didn't try to get to the bottom of this. And knowing yourself, you will get answers whether they like it or not.

"Noona, I have a gun run," Hoon breathes, looking down at his Rolex.

"Then go," you muse, stepping out of the restaurant with Yoongi by your side.

Sanghoon gives an expedient nod, kissing your cheek goodbye and taking off immediately.

"That kid walks around like he owns this fucking city," your friend huffs, watching the Lion walk away.

"Oh, leave him alone," you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

"That's exactly why he acts that way. Because he knows how much you love him and how cute you think he is," Yoongi chides, opening the car door for you.

"He is cute," you agree, "I raised him."

The gun runner rolls his eyes, rounding the car and when he climbs in beside you, you simply blink at him.

"I said, don't start. Why are you starting?" he hisses, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I didn't say anything," you mutter, holding a hand up as you start the car.

"I can see it in your little Vixen face. 'What's wrong with her, Yoongi?' 'Why are you acting like this, Yoongs?' 'Please tell me!' Stop," the Lion grunts, folding his arms.

"Well if you can see it then answer," you breathe, pulling away from the curb.

"Y/N!" Yoongi yells, slapping his hand against the dashboard, "I told you already, she won't fucking talk to me about it! God, when you're pregnant, you're so fucking nosy. Shit!"

Stepping on the brakes, you watch him brace himself against the dash and you widen your eyes at him.

Grabbing the collar of his suit jacket, you pull him to you with hardened eyes.

"You don't take an attitude with me, Min Yoongi. It's not my fault that your wife is being silent. Don't you dare be this way to me. Do you understand?!"

The gun runner sighs, closing his eyes and pushing your hand off of him gently. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm stressed out and I shouldn't take it out on you. You're just trying to help."

"If you need to take your anger out somewhere, you call Jina for one of the Golden Cage girls. You don't ever talk to me like that!"

"Fierce Vixen," he mumbles, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

The drive is silent for a while longer before Yoongi pulls out his gun and begins to clean it beside you.

When the Lion's are fucked up in the brain, when they're trying to work things out, they clean their guns. It's something they've picked up from Jimin after all these years.

"How many blocks have we driven?" Yoongi inquires, looking up from his lap.

"Uhhh, fifteen or so? Why?" you ask in return, tilting your head towards him.

"Make a left," he whispers, reassembling his gun with fast fingers.

You do as told, looking through the mirror behind you.

When a car turns the corner with you, you swallow thickly.

"Make a right," he breathes, pulling out the gun cartridge and counting the bullets.

Once again, you do as told and the car follows you.

"We have a tail," he announces, pulling out the burner phone.

Cracking your neck, you keep your eyes on the road as he calls someone.

There hasn't been anything like this to happen to your family yet in Busan and in a way it finally feels like you're being welcomed to the big city. No matter how fucked up it sounds.

"Park."

Your husband's voice is soothing and commanding on the other end of the line. Any nerves you would have begun to feel simply slink back into the recesses of your mind.

"Min," your friend announces, cocking his gun. "I'm with Y/N. We have a tail."

You can hear Jimin take a sharp breath between his teeth and you glance at the rear view mirror once more.

"They're gaining," you mutter, pressing your foot down on the gas pedal.

"Yoongi, you better look after my wife and baby, do you fucking hear me?!" Jimin yells.

You can hear the anxiousness in his voice and you find yourself smirking as the head Lion crawls out of his den at a steady pace.

"I hear you," Yoongi replies, putting the phone down on your lap.

"Kitten," your husband calls to you.

"I'm here," you promise, turning a sharp corner and bracing yourself.

"Kitten, are you okay? Do you need me to come and get you?"

"I'm a big girl now, Chim. I can handle a little car chase."

"Watch our baby boy," he pleads and you can just picture him staring out the window and running his fingers through his thick black locks.

Narrowing your eyes at the license plate, you take another sharp turn.

52 -- 5087

You relay the numbers and Yoongi nods dutifully as he puts them in his phone.

"Watch the fucking--" Yoongi screams, looking up from his phone.

"Kitten?!" Jimin yells nervously.

"God! Relax!" you yell back, turning the car away from oncoming traffic.

"Baby, please, be careful!" your husband whines loudly.

"You're acting like pussies! Holy shit!" you laugh, turning down a dirt road and stepping hard on the breaks.

"She always acts so fucking tough when she's pregnant like the baby is her shield or some shit!" Yoongi curses, shoving open the door and aiming his gun at the oncoming car.

"He better watch his fucking mouth," you hear your husband scoff.

Grabbing the phone off your lap, you also grab your gun and climb out of the car.

Holding the phone to your ear, you aim at the SUV.

"Jimin, earlier this morning some Lions were fighting with Hyenas. They might be trying to scare us or try to exact revenge," you calmly tell your husband.

"And let me guess," your husband hisses, "your favorite little boy was amongst them!"

Once the SUV stops and the doors swing open, Yoongi fires a warning shot high into the air.

"You step out of that car, I'm gonna put a fucking bullet in your goddamn skull! Do you hear me?!" your right hand man screams at the top of his lungs.

"Tell me where you are," Jimin pleads.

"Oh, baby," you coo softly, "don't worry about us, we'll be home soon. Can you ask Mirae to make me ginger tea?"

"Kitten, please. Tell me where you are and I'll kill these fuckers myself."

You ignore your husband, aiming your gun when a head pops up from the driver's side door.

Yoongi fires one more shot and the head ducks.

"You Lions are stepping on territory that don't belong to you!"

Yoongi chuckles, leaning against the car and closing one eye.

"We own all of Busan now! You go run and tell your boss that if he wants to act big then he can do it at a parley! You shoot either one of us, your whole family is gonna fucking die! Think carefully!"

You hum in amusement, climbing back into the car and brushing off your dress.

"See, I told you I'll be home soon," you tell your husband.

"Back the fuck up! Or I will shoot you where you stand!" you hear your friend scream.

You lean over the middle console and shove his door open for him as you begin to slowly back the Escalade out of the dirt road.

Yoong climbs back into the car, lowering his window and angling his body out of it. Holding up his gun, he flicks his hand and when the SUV starts to back out, he begins to laugh.

"I wish someone would give me a fucking reason to shoot them! Lord knows I could do with some stress relief right now!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Jimin inquires, curiously.

"See you when I get home?" you ask happily, pulling out of the dirt road and shooting one of the van's wheels with a wide smile.

"I'll be waiting, kitten. You know I would wait a million years for you," your husband breathes.

"I love you," you smile, driving back towards the apartment complex.

"I love you, too, baby. See you soon."

"You guys are gross," Yoongi murmurs, beginning to take apart his gun once again.

"You love it," you tease, putting your sunglasses on.

Stepping into your house, you smile at Mirae.

"Good morning, Madam."

"Morning, Mirae. Hi, baby," you coo, kissing Sejeong's forehead as the maid sets him down.

"Watch the baby," Jimin calls from the hallway and you turn to him with a smirk.

"Ginger tea is in the office for you, Madam."

"Thanks, Mirae," you breathe, looking over the apartment.

In truth, this apartment could rival the large estate you once lived in. No longer are there warm wooden walls to surround you but instead marble and granite meet your eyes. Jimin did right by his family, of course, as he always does. He renovated the top floor, ripping out the walls and doors until the whole place was one large home. All of your children have their own rooms and there's plenty more to spare which Jimin swears he'll fill them up over the next few years but you have no opinion on that matter. Your shared bedroom is way larger than your previous one and it has all the comforts you could ask for.

Peeling off his crisp black dress shirt, your husband tosses it carelessly over his shoulder, hooking it with his index finger. Walking down the large, sunlit hallway, your fingers brush over his hard abs as you pass him.

"Mirae, why don't you take Sejeong to your apartment for a while, hmm?" your husband breathes, following after you.

When you open up the office door, you watch Lion hop off of the desk like he knows he's going to get in trouble.

"Naughty boy," you hiss to him as he scurries out into the hallway.

Before you can even get to the desk, your husband is wrapping his arms around you.

"Are you okay, kitten? You're always so bold when you have boys inside you. You need to be careful," Jimin whispers, cupping your cheek with a soft hand.

"We're just fine," you promise, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

When you pull away, his fingers reach up to the nape of your neck and he twirls your hair around his fingers to keep you from moving. "If I remember correctly, you teased me this morning. You know how I feel about that, baby girl."

You whine softly, drifting your nails over the large tattoo that now covers his stomach and side, it's an homage to his family. Every cub he's had, you, his brother's, your names are scrawled across his skin for life.

"Who do you belong to, kitten?"

"You, daddy. Always," you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His free hand roams over your backside until he grabs at the skirt of your dress.

"This is expensive," you warn him, pull away.

He chases after your lips with a sly smirk, tugging you closer with the hand on your neck. "And who bought you this pretty dress?"

"You did," you reply, reaching down for his Versace belt.

Your fingers slowly tug at the leather until it hits the floor with a loud thud.

"And if daddy wants to rip this dress up, he'll just buy you a new one," your husband whispers against your lips.

Letting go of your neck, he grabs the bottom of your dress and the sound of ripping fabric echoes through your ears until you're scantily clad in just a bra and thong.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," Jimin groans wantonly.

When you jump up, he catches you easily, his hands settle beneath the globes of your ass and he presses you against the wall to open the office door.

"Watch the baby," he mumbles, biting his bottom lip as you suckle the thin skin of his neck.

His strides are quick and confident towards the bedroom and when you reach the solace of your room, he pulls you back to kiss him.

The tip of his tongue traces over your lower lip and when you open your mouth for him with a feeble whine, he groans long and low before you.

"Fuck," he curses, setting you down on the bed.

His fingers trail over your skin, producing goosebumps and you whine his name softly.

He kisses over your stomach, eyes on yours all the while as he makes his descent. When a gentle flutter makes itself known beneath his lips, he smirks.

"I know, mommy is impatient," he whispers to his son, tugging your thong until it's mere string.

"Daddy, please," you cry, spreading your legs.

If it's one thing that could never change between the both of you, it's just how easy it is to get you begging and panting with want for your husband.

"Oh? The tease wants to act like a little cum slut now, hmm?" your husband quips, spreading your lower lips with his fingers.

He finds himself groaning at the mess between your legs, shiny and slick with want for his large cock.

"Goddamn, kitten. You're fucking soaked," he hisses, slapping your pussy with the palm of his hand.

Your body writhes at the jolt of painful pleasure and the head Lion takes it upon himself to quell your pain. His pink, plush lips kiss at your throbbing clit, fingertips digging into your fleshy thighs.

"Daddy, please!" you beg once more.

"Mm mm," he denies you, sucking your throbbing bud into his mouth.

"I want your cock," you whine, taking your bra off.

"That's very clear, baby girl. Your pussy is a fucking mess. Daddy has to clean it up now since you're such a little cum whore," he murmurs, suckling your lips and licking a flat stripe over your weeping sex.

Your body sags into the bed, fingers carding through your husband's black locks of hair.

"God, this pregnant pussy tastes so fucking good," Jimin sighs happily.

It almost sounds like he wants to fucking cry. God, how he adores you.

"Fuck, kitten, I love you so much," he whispers against you, entering two fingers into your sodden core.

You sob loudly at the feeling, spreading your legs wider for more.

"I love you too!" you gasp, closing your eyes.

Curling his fingers to the soft patch of nerves inside of you, he diligently flicks the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Oh my God!" he whispers against you, putting his free hand to your belly.

"Daddy!" you blubber, gyrating your hips for more.

"That's it, baby girl. Cum on daddy's fingers. Show me how much you love it," he coos, kissing up your body and replacing his tongue with his thumb.

He rubs fast circles, minding your stomach as his lips part around your puffy, dark nipple.

"Goddamn, you're ready to make milk already," he hisses, suckling softly on your sensitized skin.

Your fingers grip his hair harder and your cries are becoming stunted and small.

The invisible band within you is tightening and your husband knows it all too well as you clench around him rhythmically.

"Cum on my fingers, kitten. Good girl," your husband praises, rubbing tighter and faster circles to your nub.

There is nothing better than having you alone in this big bed, the only woman he could ask for, his soulmate.

"Right there!" you gasp, seeing stars paint your eyelids as he keeps his fingers taut to the nerves inside of you.

"Give it to me," Jimin orders, moving his hand so fast inside of you that you choke on a moan. He suckles at your nipple harder, leaving your belly to pinch and roll your other forsaken nipple between his fingers.

"Yes, yes, yes, daddy," you chant, feeling the invisible band within you break.

"That's my good girl," he whispers softly, fucking you through the orgasm and moving his fingers out of the way for you to squirt onto the bed.

He groans at the amount of wetness that squirts from you and when you open your hazy, love drunk eyes, you find your husband smiling down at you.

"Hi, there," he whispers, kissing you languidly.

You can feel how hard his cock is as it rests against your thigh in the confines of his suit pants.

Tugging him closer by his belt loop, you flip him onto his back with a simple shove.

"Mmm, kitten," he groans, tucking a hand beneath his head to watch you.

Your fingers are cool and confident as you undo his pants and when you kiss down his chest, he sighs content.

"Fuck, your lips feel so good," your husband murmurs, letting his free hand lazily caress over your hard nipples.

When you whine at the feeling, the sound goes straight to his cock and it twitches, begging for mercy. His plush bottom lip tucks between his pearly white teeth and he sighs loudly when you free his hard cock from the confines of his pants.

"Kitten, be a good girl for me," he coos, grabbing your hair with his fist and making a makeshift ponytail.

"Yes, daddy," you preen softly, kissing down his long length.

"Sexy little tease," he hisses, tugging on your hair gently.

Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, his jaw tightens. His eyes roll into the back of his head and his chest puffs up with pleasure.

"Oh, kitten, fuck. Take it deep," he moans, tapping your throat.

Doing as told, you swallow around him until your nose nestles against his pubic bone and the sharp breath he takes between his teeth tells you just how good it feels for him.

"God, look at you, baby!" your husband whines, leaning up on his elbow to palm one of your breasts in hand, "you look so beautiful stuffed full with my cock and baby."

You hum in agreement, bobbing your head and getting sloppy on his cock.

His thick thigh muscles become terse and strained as pleasure shoots through him. His hips thrust on their own and he coos sweetly when fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

Brushing his thumbs against your cheeks, he moans your name loudly.

"Kitten! Fuck! Oh my God, you're gonna make be cum, baby girl!"

He tugs harder on your hair, eyes squeezing shut. Just when he's right about to cum, when you can feel his cock throbbing and thickening on your tongue, he groans. "Off, pull off, I wanna cum inside you, baby."

You hum in agreement, rubbing your thighs together for any friction you can receive.

"C'mere, kitten," Jimin whispers, sitting up against the headboard.

You whimper for him, spreading your legs over his own. His fingertips drift over your inner thighs and he sighs softly at how dripping wet you are.

"Watch my boy," he murmurs against your lips, positioning the head of his cock to your entrance.

You sit down on him slowly, moaning at the stretch.

"So fucking tight," your husband gasps, putting his hands on your hips, "your pussy is so wet, shit."

"Daddy," you gasp, curling your arms around his neck needily.

"I got you, baby. Take everything from me," Jimin whispers, kissing you passionately.

Your hips lift only to crash back down at a rhythmic pace. The head Lion's hands glide over your skin, tongue running over yours and swallowing your pleasurable cries.

There was no one in the world he could ever adore more than you and still to this very day he feels like the luckiest man in the universe.

Pulling him closer, he steadies you when his stomach smacks into yours.

"Easy, kitten," he breathes, cupping your face.

"Your cock feels so good, daddy! I love how big it is," you whine, throwing your head back.

His legs find purchase beneath yours and he thrusts his hips to meet you with every chance he gets. "Yeah? You love my big cock? You want to cum on it? Hmm? Wanna make your pregnant cunt cream all over me?"

You nod incessantly, mouth dropping open to give a silent scream.

"That's my good girl. Daddy loves your pregnant pussy, baby. Feels so fucking good," he groans, burying his face into your neck to suckle at your sensitive skin.

He feels it then, the rhythmic clenching around him that he knows so well.

"Right there, baby? You like it right there?" he taunts, grabbing your hips and fucking up into you faster.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your eyes squeeze shut. "J-Jimin!"

"Oh my God!" he cries, laying you down on your back and thrusting into you with everything he has.

His plush lips suckle roughly at your nipple and he scoffs loudly as pleasure flows through him.

"Fuck, daddy! I'm go-gonna--"

"I know, kitten. Fuck, I feel it, it feels so good. Give it to me, baby girl. Please," he begs, putting your ankles over his shoulders.

His hand comes to settle at the apex of your thighs and he rubs sweet, unforgiving circles until your back is arching off the mattress.

"Just like that, baby. You're gonna make me cum. Your pregnant pussy is so tight for me," Jimin coos, kissing you roughly.

You cry out into his mouth as your second orgasm racks through you and with a groan, he flips you over.

Cupping your belly, he knocks your knees open wider until your head is hanging between your shoulders.

"Jesus Christ, you're so amazing, kitten," he praises, kissing over your shoulder.

"D-Daddy, your cock is so fucking big," you sob, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, I fucking bet it is. You love daddy's cock in your slutty little hole, don't you?"

You can only screech a million affirmations as he spanks the globes of your ass, burnishing his handprint into your skin.

"Y/N," he moans loudly when you begin to buck back against him.

"Cum inside me, daddy. Please fill me up. I want to drip with you," you beg, tugging his hand from your belly to your breast.

Burying his face into your neck, he pinches and rolls your nipple once more until his thighs begin to quake.

"I want you to walk around this fucking house with my cum running down your legs and my baby on display. Do you hear me, kitten?"

You nod incessantly, gasping when the head of his cock nestles against your soft cervix folds.

"Kitten!" he whines loudly, furrowing his eyebrows.

He gives sloppy, slow thrusts as his cum paints your velvet walls. Sighing loudly, he wraps his arms around you. Falling to your side, he kisses over the back of your neck.

"I missed you, kitten," your husband mumbles into your ear.

"This morning has been way too eventful for me," you breathe, closing your eyes.

"I have a lot of fucking questions for you," Jimin replies, rolling you onto your back and kissing your pregnant bump.

Rolling off of the bed, your husband grabs his briefs. You slip on his dress shirt, covering your breasts when the chill of the room finally seeps into your bones.

Pouring himself a glass of whisky, the head Lion fixes the waistband of his briefs. When he turns back to you, the smile that spreads on his face makes you raise an eyebrow.

"What?" you mumble, looking down at the shirt.

"Stand for me, baby," he coos, above the lip of his glass.

You do as he asks, walking over to him as he holds out a hand. Setting down his glass, he curls his arms around you as he faces the mirror.

"Look at you," he whispers, kissing your temple.

One hand falls below your belly and the other fixes his shirt to cover your breasts.

"God, I'm the luckiest man in the world," your husband chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear and swaying with you.

"You're gonna make yourself excited again if you continue on like this," you giggle.

Peering at your thighs as you begin to cream with his cum, he smiles wider. "You're right about that, baby girl. My cum looks so good on you, fuck."

Turning you around, he picks up his whisky glass once more. "Please explain to me what happened this morning, kitten."

You can only sigh, pulling him along with you to the bathroom.

He leans against the door frame, crossing his muscular legs and folding one arm beneath the other. Taking a sip of his whisky, he watches with loving eyes as you turn on the bathtub.

"Don't make the water too hot, my little man can't handle it," he reminds you, watching you strip off his shirt.

"After I dropped the kids off this morning, I saw some Lions fighting with a family I've never seen before. Hyenas."

"Who's the head of the Hyena family?" Jimin inquires, helping you into the tub and sitting down on the bench beside it.

"Oh Byung, I want Namjoon to look into them. They're also who tailed me and Yoongi earlier."

"Yeah, good idea, baby. We'll have Joon look into them… Also what the fuck is up with Yoongi? He's acting…-"

"Oh my God! I know!" you gasp, widening your eyes at your husband, "This morning was so fucking weird! When I had brunch with Hyunah… It seemed like they were on bad terms."

Jimin sips his whisky, furrowing his eyebrows at your words.

"Hyunah and Yoongi on bad terms? That doesn't sound right."

"I know! And she asked me to always look after Yoongi and the Lees like…like something bad was happening," you bleat, running warm water over your goosebumped skin.

"Did you press her about it? Did she say anything?"

You give your husband an incredulous look to which he simply hums in agreement.

"What about Yoongs, then?"

"He told me to 'mind my fucking business and don't start'," you recount, flashing your husband air quotes along with his words.

"I'll fucking shoot him in the neck… how dare he get snippy with you," Jimin hisses, setting down his glass.

"I mean don't get me wrong, we fight too and I get that but when he looked at Hyunah it was like… he fucking hated her. And I'm not just saying it to be dramatic, he really looked vicious and…and hurt."

The head Lion sniffs softly, staring at your belly as he lets your words process through his brain.

"I was only joking with her when I asked her what she saw in her tea leaves but she got so mad at me… like she saw red or something for even bringing it up."

"Huh," he breathes, tilting his head confused.

"I don't know. It seems like something to keep in mind and maybe even something to worry about if it doesn't get fixed," you bleat, grabbing the soap.

"Yeah, well, I don't want you worrying about anything. You just focus on making my baby boy big and strong. We'll deal with it if it comes down to it."

You give him a nod, laying back in the tub and sighing softly.

"I'm gonna go pick the kids up from school, you get ready for the meeting later, okay?"

"Okay," you promise, closing your eyes.

"I love you, kitten."

"I love you, too, Chim."

Setting your gun down on the table, you sit down in your large chair and when Joon enters, you toss your phone into the soundproof box like always.

"Hey, Y/N," he chirps, kissing your temple and taking his usual seat.

"She fucking ripped my hair out!" Taehyung curses, stepping into the large apartment that's now your meeting area and combing his fingers through his hair to see a very apparent bald spot through the mirrored walls.

"And why did she do that, hyung?" Guk chuckles, widening his eyes happily at the sight of you.

"Hi, noona!" he squeals happily, rushing over and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

He runs a hand over your bump as he takes his seat beside you and you look incredulously at Tae who stomps his foot on the ground.

"Hyejin ripped my hair out because I taught Hyungwon what a 'pussy' is."

You can only snort, rolling your eyes at his antics.

"Hey, Y/N," he mumbles, sullenly, falling into his chair with a whine.

"You're the pussy," your brother-in-law laughs, stepping around the multitude of chairs to kiss your forehead. "Oh! Y/N! Jisuk made you and the baby a present if you wanna come over and grab it soon."

"Aw!" you pout sweetly, nodding to Jin, "I'll come over later to see it! How's my little Jungwoon?"

"He finally can eat scrambled eggs, you were right, he just needed a little more force to get solid foods down."

Winking at him, you watch the apartment door open once more.

This family has been getting bigger and bigger and you're so pleased to see everyone doing well.

"Uhm, noona?" Jeongguk whispers as Hoseok enters.

You lean over to him as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair.

"Yunjin has been having a really bad rash down there and Vixen was wondering if any of your girls ever had that…" he mumbles into your ear.

Pulling away, you pinch his cheek sweetly. "Oh yeah, that might happen. You might have to put more powder on after her baths or change her diaper more so she doesn't sit in the wetness. Try some baby powder at first and then put some ointment on for a few days. If it doesn't get better, then take her to the doctor."

"Okay," he promises, nodding strictly and pulling out his phone to text his wife.

"Guk, come on," Hoseok says, kissing the top of your head and tossing his own phone into the box.

"Sorry, one minute," the youngest promises.

"Leave him alone, it's a serious concern," you breathe, looking down at your nails.

"Thanks, noona," he smiles, wrinkling his nose and tossing the phone into the box.

Yoongi and Jimin step into the space together and you watch your husband rolls his eyes.

Uh oh. What happened there?

"Guns," he breathes, pulling his gun from behind his back and placing it on the large marble table beside you.

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips and you reply in kind.

"Yoongi… phone," Joon says, grabbing the box.

Your right hand man sighs loudly and he throws the phone in with a grunt.

Drifting his fingers over the gnarled scar on his cheek, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

"Hyung, c'mon… you know noona is pregnant," Guk complains, wafting the smoke away from you.

"Did you knock her up? Is that your baby? Why are you so worried about what I'm doing? Worry about yourself, you hear me?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," your husband breathes, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What'd you just say?" the youngest asks clipped through his teeth, quick to defend your honor.

"I said mind your fucking business, Jeon Jeongguk before I fucking make you," the older man seethes, pressing both hands to the table and leaning forward.

You watch the smoke lazily rise, his scarred eye squinting to block out the toxic fumes and you only cross your arms at the sight.

"Burn out the cigarette!" your husband orders, grabbing his gun, "you know you don't smoke around my wife when she's pregnant."

"Well then I might as well quit smoking forever! She's always knocked up!"

You take a sharp breath between your teeth at how wrong he is to say those words and you flinch when your husband kicks his chair back with fury.

"Y'know, you're acting like me when I was a fucking head case," Guk spits, narrowing his eyes, "I almost lost my life because of it."

You watch the youngest lift his shirt to show his gnarled, large scar and thinking about that day at his warehouse makes your skin clammy and your stomach roll.

"Burn. Out. The. Cigarette," Taehyung hisses to his left, practically pleading with his oldest friend to do as he's told.

"Fuck!" Yoongi yells, throwing the cigarette on the floor and stomping on it repeatedly. "You happy now?! You bunch of hypocritical fucks!"

"What's up, man? Is it Hyunah?" Joon inquires softly, spinning his wedding ring around on his finger.

"Do you see my fucking wife at this goddamn table?! Do you see that woman anywhere near me?! Don't ask me stupid goddamn questions!" your right hand man screams at the top of his lungs.

Calmly, you stand up.

"Yoongi," you breathe, rounding the table.

"No, Y/N, just fucking stop," he sighs, burying his face in his hands.

"Easy, kitten," your husband says, cautiously.

"Yoongi, you can talk to us," you promise, leaning against the back of Namjoon's chair.

Your friend kicks back his own chair and he grabs your shoulders roughly. His eyes are pained and frantic, looking down at you with gritted teeth.

You sigh softly when everyone's guns cock loudly.

"I don't want to talk about it. Why can't you just leave it alone?! I have my own problems with my wife. Just like Hoseok. Just like Taehyung. Or Guk or Joon or everyone else! What do you want me to say?! That my wife is acting out of order? That she makes me sleep in a different fucking bed?! That she suddenly turned on me four days ago and she won't tell me what's wrong?! Is that what you fucking want from me?!" he cries loudly, slamming his fist down onto the table until you envelop him into a hug.

He buries his face into your neck and he hugs you so tightly that it makes you flinch. Namjoon puts his hand to your back to keep you upright as your right hand man sobs loudly.

Swallowing thickly, you run your hand over his back.

Jimin uncocks his gun and he motions his hand for the others to do so as well. Turning his back to everyone, he tilts his head.

Hyunah would never just act like this for no reason, she's so fucking strong. Hell, she had a personal hand in making you as strong as you are.

"Get off," Yoongi breathes, clearing his throat and pulling away.

You cup his face, wiping his now reddened cheek before stepping back and rounding the table to your seat once more.

Sitting down once more, you tilt your head to Jimin as he pours himself a glass of liquor.

When he turns back around, he kisses your forehead sweetly.

"Namjoon, I want you to look into Oh Byung. I want everything on him that you can possibly find," your husband announces, sitting down beside you and placing his hand on your belly.

Your friend simply nods, making a mental note of it. "You got it."

"Yoongi, I'm also sorry that you're going through the shit right now but Y/N has always been by your side, don't you dare ever speak to my wife like that again. I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

Your right hand man nods, staring down at the marble table with narrowed eyes.

"Any other agendas for this meeting?" you inquire, crossing your legs and looking down at your nails.

The Lion's voices begin to drone in and out of your ears and you can only feel your husband's thumb brushing loving strokes over your stomach.

Moving to Busan to get away from all the painful ties to life seemed all too easy and as you and Jimin sit side by side, you can practically hear each other's thoughts screaming at one another.

Yet another problem arises.