Malleus, Mumbling: This Cupcake Is... Spicy? It's Supposed To Be Sweet, And It's Not Even Fully Baked.

Malleus, mumbling: This cupcake is... spicy? It's supposed to be sweet, and it's not even fully baked.

Malleus: If I had to rate this, I would give it three-

Yuu: I baked it myself!

Malleus: -out of three stars. Child of man, this is the best cupcake I've ever had.

This was probably done already but it was the first thing that came to mind, lololololol

DC vs Vampires #2 (2021)

I still think one of the funniest experiences of my life was watching American Psycho with my sister and afterwards we both went "okay. Lets do something more lighthearted now" and put on the dubbed version of Howl's Moving Castle and we both lost our minds when we heard Howl start talking

Hi honey! I don't know if u r taking requests right now but if you do I have one. Can you make a standalone where Ghost and F/reader are together for like 1/2 year(s) and she is always like really nervous around Ghost and can't look him in the eye for too long because she is really shy and Ghost kind of like the effect he has on her. Something along that way :)

Thank you so much and have a great day!!🤍

ɞ - 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠

𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 "𝑔𝚑𝑜𝑠𝑡" 𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠- 𝚑𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑? 𝑔𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( 𝑖 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑏 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡) 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎?? 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑙

𝑤𝑐: 830

𝑎/𝑛: 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞!!!! 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑙 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑏𝑚𝑏. 𝚑𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𖠌

anyone would be nervous if a 6’4 buff military man locked eyes with you. right? possibly- but does knowing him for 4 years make it any better? does dating for two of those years help? nope. looking this hunk of a guy in the eyes didn’t get any less nerving, even after knowing him for so long.

the way he trapped you under your gaze made you nervous. it made your fingers drum against your cargo pants -it made your heavy boots tap on the concrete. he must know, he gave it away by the way he held his stare- not daring to look away. he knew it made you nervous- he knew it made you weak in the knees. maybe if you could look him in the eyes for longer, you’d see the glimmer in them when your eyes drifted down and your face went hot.

the first time he noticed- it was a team briefing. you were sat across from him, he was looking at you- as always- and he began to zone out. he admired your face- your beauty. the way you chewed on your cheek in concentration as you listened carefully to the orders price was giving out . he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. someone to trust, someone to kiss, someone to hug.

at first- he didn’t notice he was staring at you. but when price slammed something onto the table - most likely harder than he intended to - it snapped him out of his trace. he was confused- to say the least- he didn’t understand the ways your eyes were darting all over the place… until he did.

your fingers - which were resting against the table - were fighting against each other and your knee was bouncing at a particular pace. he knew it was yours- the table was rocking and soap - who was sitting on his right -  was completely still. as for gaz, he was sat, on a chair, away from the table, why? god knows - but that left you.

 he understood now- you were nervous. why? because you were caught under his gaze.

that moment, he was thankful for the mask. it hid the smirk on his face. well- not that you could look for long enough to see it. he was still staring at you- he realised. maybe he should stop. let you focus. so he, thoughtfully, looked away- though not before taking one last glance, just for fun.

the second time, he’d actually forgotten. you were all cramped into a little plane, on the route to a mission. soap was squashed up beside you, practically locking you into the wall. ghost, however, was facing you, the tip of his boots pressed against yours. he was looking at soap, who was waffling about god knows what- it was always hard to keep up with what the scot was saying.

you- were also listening. just not so intensely. you didn’t bother to turn your body to look at soap, you couldn’t, he had you trapped against the wall. so, you had to look straight ahead. right at ghost.

you did your best to avoid his eyes. you stared at the wall of the plane, his vest, the badge on his jacket - hell even his gun. but you found yourself staring back into his eyes. you loved his eyes- you did, even if it didn’t seem like it. you loved the way they sparkled in the sunlight- the way they lit up when you walked into a room. but you just couldn’t maintain eye contact.

he tried to listen to soap- for a change - he really did, but eventually, the man became a buzzing in his ears. so he turned his attention back to you. as soon as his eyes began to move, so did yours. you looked away as quickly as possible- deciding the marks on the floor were much more interesting to look at.

ghost, although hidden by the mask, raised an eyebrow at this. again, he didn’t understand why. he racked his brain for the memory or the reason. oh. right.

the corners of his lips perked up, and he kicked his foot against your boot. he watched your eyebrows furrow, and your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. he kicked again, and again until you were forced to look at him. he was having far too much fun for a man about to head onto the battlefield.

you- on the other hand. god, this was the furthest thing from fun you could imagine. he was your boyfriend for christ’s sake. you hoped he would never notice. the height difference between you two always meant you stared directly at his chest and you almost always sat next to him. maybe you cold try look at him, just once more.

so the next minute- you were staring right into his eyes. maybe a couple of seconds passed, you could already feel your face getting hot, your fingers start to twitch against your knee. fuck sake. you caved in again, looking away. 

and you swear you heard the faintest sound of a deep chuckle come from him.

that love is ours to make.

18+ MDNI NSFW. smut. p in v sex. oral. fingering. exhusband!Price. slight angst. a tiny tiny bit of dad!Price.

note - this is my first ever time writing smut, not sure how i feel about it so a pre-warning that this may not be the best you’ve ever read! barely proof-read too. might/might not write other parts around this.

lord, just let captain john price fuck me on a table.

tag list: @mirthlxss

You were met with the sound of clashing pots as you reached the bottom of the stairs. Wandering aimlessly back into the kitchen, where you had previously left the last of your guests.

Your ex-husband.

“He’s out like a light.” You said, flashing a baby monitor screen in his direction; the image of your sleeping son sound asleep cuddled into his cot.

John turned to you from his place at the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grinning at the screen. “Not surprised, bet today’s took it out of him.”

You scanned around your now neatened up kitchen, the one that was drowning in piles of plates and bowls, empty wrappers and clumps of birthday cake, when you left it.

“Thanks for tidying, you didn’t have to.” Setting the monitor down on the counter, leaning against it as you did so.

“Least I can do.” He smiled.

You watched him as he placed the last of the bowls onto the draining rack, noticing how he squeezed the sponge out of any excess water - something you used to mildly scold him for when he never used to do it.

It had been a while since you last seen him so domesticated, so comfortable.

The divorce was finalised over a year ago, you were separated eight months before that. A lengthy, unpleasant process to say the least. But John made sure it went as smoothly as it could go.

For the sake of you and your boy.

Divorce was the last thing he wanted, but it’s what you wanted - and he felt obligated to give you exactly that. After all, you gave him four years of being his wife and three years prior, not to mention being the mother of his child.

It’s more that he thought he ever deserved, and expected.

“John?”

“Yeah, love?” Love - came so naturally off his tongue, like a muscle memory. His favourite. He pulled his attention to you, eyes softening at the sight.

“I’m glad you could be here, today.”

“Wouldn’t wanna miss my lad turning two.” He chuckled. “Need to make up for missin’ the first one, anyway.”

And just like that.

His demeanour instantly switched, any tranquility and nonchalance had faded. Like the man you walked in to, had transported out the room, leaving just a shell in his place.

You physically saw the repentant creep up inside of him, his eyes dropped from yours, his teeth toying at the inside of his lips. Thoughts ticking away at him, one’s you wish you could comfort him from - that you tried to comfort him from for so many years before.

Talk to me. Look at me. Stop bloody thinking.

But daren’t let you. He wouldn’t let you carry the burden, he believed marrying him was a big enough one alone.

You hated the sight of him internally beating himself up, it cut something deep in your chest. He was a proud man, vulnerability was something that didn’t come easy for him, but you could read him like a book.

Words didn’t leave your mouth, you just made your way over to him placing yourself in front of him, leaving a few inches between you both. Your hand comfortingly found the space between his neck and his shoulder, softly stroking your thumb against the fabric of his shirt.

“He’s lucky to have you, John.”

His gaze flickered to you, his baby blues fixing into yours. A saddened, half-hearted smile formed, not giving off much reassurance. Not even trying to.

“Likewise, love.” He took your hand off his shoulder and bought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your heart ached but your soul smiled, feeling his touch enlivened something in you that you thought was dead and buried.

A heat, a yearning.

He kept your hand in front of his mouth momentarily. Glued to you, like he was waiting. Little did he know, you were waiting with him.

But like tomorrow, it never actually came.

His hand lowered yours back to your side, a silence that was once comfortable became strained, the air becoming so thick with anticipation and need.

“I should get off, it’s gettin’ late.” With a gentle voice and small smile. He shifted, beginning to make his way past you towards the door.

You felt a sense of disappointment, an anticlimax of sorts. That was until your mouth and body moved quicker than your mind could catch up.

You softly touched his forearm, halting him before he could move any further. “Don’t. Don’t go.”

He span to you, confounded by your words. Face unreadable. He stared at you briefly, before sighing, turning his back towards you and headed for the door.

Your heart dropped. Teeth finding your lip, as if it was your body’s way of telling you to not say anything more. Embarrassment began filling your veins, self-consciousness beginning to send you in to a panic.

His back only got closer to the door, bracing yourself to be left lonesome in your kitchen.

Except he closed the door. Leaving it slight ajar - the squeak of it as he did so. Before hastily making his way back to you, raising his hands to your head, cradling and caressing your cheeks.

His lips found yours, surprising you as they did. The taste of earth and tobacco, pulling you in and melting you in to a puddle.

Needy, sloppy, ravenous.

He moved, taking you with him. Your hands working around his body, tugging his hair, his top, the waist of his jeans.

Your back was pinned against your fridge, trapping you. Even though you didn’t think it was physically possible, he pressed himself closer into you. Helping you feel all of him.

His - already - hard cock pushed against your abdomen, his jeans restricting him. You kissed a moan into his mouth, an intensity forming between your legs.

He moved his hands down to your blouse, breaking the kiss to tug it over your head, leaving you in a pretty pink bra. The sight of you earned an amused grunt from him, before he was back on you like he was running out of time.

He connected back to you, arms hoisting you up, your face levelling with his. The kiss turning to quick, soft pecks.

He set you down on the solid wood of your table, pulling from you and taking a step back in the process.

“Lie.” Demanding, firm. His voice rang through your ears.

And you did as he told.

Your body winced at the coldness of the surface on your bare back. Fingers fumbled, pulling down the zip of your jeans before he was pulling them off you, revealing your matching panties.

He huffed. “Cute.” Tone laced with mirth, a smirk threatening to upturn his lips.

You tutted as your hand playfully tapped his forearm, gently chastising him.

Before you knew it, your jeans and panties were scattered around your kitchen and you were lay exposed beneath John.

He’s seen sights like this before, women spread before him. Those he’d take home, with a liver full of scotch and a mind craving a distraction before he spiralled.

And he’d fuck them, usually with their faces turned away from him. If they weren’t, he’d bury his face into the mattress, trying not to inhale them as he did. No matter who he escorted home, no matter how many similarities they had to you.

The perfume was never right, their shampooed hair was never right, the sweat from their pores was never right.

Because you were his only right, and he was always so incredibly wrong.

And then seeing you, legs apart, waiting for him to devour you, lit something that had been dark in him for so long. Like you were his favourite lighter, one he lost - yet he found you, accidentally.

He planted soft kisses from the inside your knee to your thigh, the smell of your scented moisturiser sending him down a path of reminiscence.

He knelt, like an act of worship, with his eyes pinned to yours.

“John.” You moaned, voiced dripping with beseech. Your feet found their place on this shoulders, drawing his face towards your sex.

You felt the warmness of his breath against your pussy. The prickle of his beard, against the bareness of your arse.

So close to the place where you needed him most.

Your hips jolted at the sensation of two of his fingers parting your folds, beginning to fuck in to you.

“Still get so wet for me, don’t you darlin’?.” His voice thick and full of tease - you heard the smirk plastered on his face. “Even after all this time, ay.”

You felt a touch of embarrassment. The fact your body still got so worked up at the sight and touch of someone you filed from divorce from filled you with shame. “Shut the fu—”

The suddenness of his tongue working slick against your clit, choked you on your words. A blend of profanities and praise, taking its place.

It’s became rhythmic, his fingers and his tongue alternating between your hole and your clit - launching you in to a perfect frenzy.

He’s feasting on you, inhaling every ounce of you, he’s covered in you. The way you clench you clench at his hair when his fingers curl inside of you, and it feels that fucking good, that your eyelids flicker.

It only makes him more determined to push you to your edge, until you breath out five short words —

“Want you to fuck me.”

And it pulls him from his trance, he gorps at you for a moment. Taking in and swilling the words around his mind like it’s scotch in his mouth.

“You sure, love?” He questioned, peering at you.

No, not in the slightest—

“Yes. Fuck me, John. Make love to me.”

Within an instant, he’s on his feet. Looking down at you, lay in front of him, legs wide; presenting your glistening pussy like a prize.

His lips and beard are glossy, smothered in your wetness. He licks his lips, tasting you some more.

He grabbed your calf’s, pulling you towards him, the texture of denim hitting your already sensitive cunt.

You perch up on your elbows, setting your sight of his throbbing cock outside of his jeans. You automatically edge yourself closer to it, to him. Practically begging for him inside of you.

He held his length, shifting himself closer between your legs. He placed his tip at your entrance, before pushing himself balls deep in you. Slow, unrushed, leisurely.

Like a fucking glove. A mould made just for each other.

You admire the vision of his dick slipping in and out of you, sopping, the way it lights a part of your brain up.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He grunted. “C’mere. Sit up.”

You comply. Your face to face with his chest. He cradled his hands around the sides of your head, pulling his forehead to rest on yours. Your hands finding the nape of his neck.

His pounding got deeper, his tip bouncing off your cervix, the pressure being felt in your stomach forcing your eyes to tighten shut.

“F-fuck. Oh my—“

“Look at me. Love, look at me.” Another order, but this time his voice wasn’t laced with authority. He said it softly, like it was a plead.

Your eyes fluttering open to meet his, turned him feral.

Everything was like a drug to him; the way you looked, smelt, sounded, your silky smooth pussy wrapped around him.

And he was high as a fucking kite.

His pace increased, audible wet noises and his balls slapping off your arse between the mutters, grunts and moans.

Each time he fucked himself into you, he would pull you closer. Making sure you was as near to him, and he was buried in you, as much as physically possible.

“Feels so—fucking good.” The whine in your voice only egged him on further.

He stared into your soul, clinging to you with each rapid thrust. He always enjoyed seeing you like this, melting, shattering because of him.

A pool of pleasure was flooding into your stomach, the consistent motion of his cock dragging you towards your sweet end. It built like a pressure cooker.

“J-John, keep going like that. Fuck—p-please.”

And he did. He worked and worked you, until you pinched at his neck, tightened your legs and your cunt pulsated around him.

You tried to muffle your cries out into his shoulder, breaking away from his baby blues. His hips only slowed, refusing to part with you, driving you to dizziness as he carried on pushing himself inside your sensitivity.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Could watch you cummin’ all day.” His lips pecked from your temple down to you neck as you fell apart against him. “Lie back again for me will you?”

Your back hit the cold wood once again. He pulled himself out, hand stoking the remnants of your dripping pussy around his cock some more.

“Want me to cum all over you, eh pet?”

You nodded. “Cover me.”

His hand toiled himself to his orgasm, releasing himself alongside a symphony of grunts onto your lower stomach, like his own little artwork.

His body bent over you, his arm steadying him beside your waist. “Bloody hell.”

He placed a singular kiss to your knee, both of your highs subsiding - one that you craved so intensely just a short while ago. Silence filled around you, only your rapid, staggering breaths could be heard.

You both remained like that momentarily, as you returned to earth. John’s eyes flickering around you, yours stared up at the dimmed spotlights located over your head - avoiding meeting his.

You’d be lying if you didn’t feel a tinge of regret, not from the action of letting John fuck you, but the worry of what may result from it.

Yours and John’s co-parenting relationship was at the best it had ever been, and you couldn’t help but stew on the fact that you may have just took ten steps back.

“I’ll go get ya a towel.”

“If you don’t mind.”

EVEN WHEN THE LEARNING'S DONE AND NOTHING'S NEW !

‹ . housewardens ›

· scenario drabbles

⇝moments that happened in your married life.

[ n: a little something to get myself out of a writers block. not proofread and not very confident of my writing bcs ahaha i havent written in a hot minute + no motivation. this took me almost a week to finish but i still hope u guys enjoy ! ilyyyy ]

⑇

- - - → tw. children (does that count as a tw?????? idk man kids jumpscare in kalim's part)

⑇

riddle rosehearts ‹ heartslabyul ›

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man and lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. you were aware of this when you said yes to his proposal to spend a life with him forever but as his spouse, it pains you to see him overwork himself sometimes. it wasn't the first time you woke from your quiet slumber at 2 in the morning to an empty space beside you. your feet padded across the cold marble floor through the hallway adorned with photographs gilded in gold of you and him that have been taken over the years. a soft knock at the mahogany doors to his study and a quiet response from the other side permitting you to come in. the tea on the tray you carried made riddle sigh with relief, the tension in his body seemingly fading away. he had a soft smile on his face as he brought the teacup to his lips.

“come to bed, riddle. it's so late.” you urge him gently as you made yourself comfortable on one of the chair on the other side of his desk.

he gave you weary look, “i'm not sure i can yet, my love. there's still so much work to do.”

you let out a soft sigh, “i figured as much.” you whispered, standing up and walking around the desk to give him a soft kiss on the lips, “i'll be heading back to sleep then.” you inform him and quietly made your way back to the room.

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man who lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. it was rare, however, for him to softly close the bedroom door behind him leaving his study and his paperwork unfinished to slip under the covers and wrap his arms around your form.

“what made you change your mind?” you asked, a loving hand on his cheek.

“you did,” he said with a sheepish smile on his face, “you always do.”

⑇

leona kingscholar ‹ savanaclaw ›

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse and till death do you part, the title of royal has been embedded onto your name and cemented into sunset savannah's history for all eternity. what you do and say will be seen, heard and talked about by the public. it's your duty to be present, not just for your husband the royal family, but for yourself as well.

so you do your part. you attend the balls, you speak out on important issues that need attention. you smile, you wave, conversing with other country's political leaders and powerful people. you learn to adapt and navigate through the life of a royalty one step at a time. you were doing your best but sometimes it felt like it wasn't enough. and that's when he comes in to yank an ipad out of your hands and snap you out of your trance. he says dwelling on ridiculous articles and getting yourself all affected negatively by it doesn't do anyone any good. that's when he wipes the frustrated hot tears from your cheeks as he sits beside you on the bed, a softer tone now etched in his tone when he spoke, “i know it isn't easy.”

you sniffle in response, your voice shaky as you spoke in uneven breaths, “i'm trying so hard,” a sob, “why does it always feel like i'm always running short? why am i sometimes being treated like i don't know what's happening?”

leona's tail flicks, “did the articles tell you that? or was it the servants whispering in the halls? the people in the ballrooms?” he places a hand on your chin and gently makes you look at him, “listen, i don't know what you overheard or read—but the fact that you undermine your own achievements for the validation of other people is annoying the shit out of me.”

his eyes bore into you as his hands squeezed yours, “you're not royalty from birth, but the amount of things you were willing to change—willing to do just so you can be with me still constantly leaves me in awe. the politics, the royal etiquette and other pointless bullshit takes years to master. you're almost halfway through the progress bar despite being so new to it all.” leona places his forehead against yours, “even if the whole world is against you, i'll be by your side. i've never been more proud to have you as my partner. fuck everyone else.”

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse. you've done all of this just for him. you would keep doing it just for him because know he'd kidnap every star in he sky if you asked him to. you can cry, you can scream, you can be angry—but he's always there and always will be and till death do you part.

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in the entire time. and with a raspy voice and a genuine smile, you whisper back.

“fuck everyone else.”

⑇

azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›

homesickness is something you've dealt with the first time you were practically punted over to this twisted world you now reside in. but over time, you realize that this world was always more comfortable for you. it became home whenever you were in the arms of your lover. you found comfort in azul's arms so gentle and tender around you—as if you were the rarest and most fragile seashell he picked up from the depths of his home in the sea. eventually, you stopped thinking of the life you've left behind. you were happy here and that's what mattered.

likewise, he found his home in your arms around his neck in a warm embrace like the first rays of the sun just as the winter season was coming to an end. but unlike you, azul had access to his home. he just never had much opportunity to come back to visit. his life with you on land was what you both collectively decided on. a house near the beach, but nowhere near where his home is at. just enough to breathe in the salt air and the cool embrace of the ocean breeze on his skin. and on more than one occasion, you've seen him let the waves wash over his feet after he'd come back from work. his shoes in his hands as he mindlessly watched the sun set over the horizon.

“a penny for your thoughts?” your hand subconsciously finding its way to his, fingers interlocking together and fitting together perfectly.

“just thinking of the coral sea.”

“i've told you last time we should go to visit again.”

azul let out a sigh and you knew why he didn't like going back to the coral sea—to several memories of his past littered across every corner of the place. he looked at you wearily, the dimming orange beams of the sun coated his face with a lovely hue that made him look almost ethereal and melancholic.

“it's hard going back there sometimes,” he admitted, his head hung, “it took a lot for me to take you back there... to show you everything i've been running away from.”

“and i love every part of it. every part of you, azul.”

you squeeze his hand gently, “it's never always sunshine and calm seas. and i'm always here to embrace you when storms come.”

homesickness is something azul's never really dealt with in the years he's been away from sea. he was happy to be out of there and start anew—but he didn't have a home. no, he was always relying on himself. but over time, he realized that this world was always more comfortable with you. it became home whenever he was your arms, his lover. you were his new home. and no matter where he would end up, he always finds himself running home to you.

⑇

kalim al-asim ‹ scarabia ›

“baba's here!” was exclaimed by an energetic boy popping out from the blanket fort you all built together. giggles bounced around the walls as little pairs of feet padded along the floor. the children both ran to their father, the younger one trying her best not to trip and fall on her way there. kalim, who was still in conversation with jamil as he entered the room, had been cut off by the squeals and giggles of the children running to his embrace.

“ya malayiki! 'abi saeid jidana liruyatik maratan 'ukhraa!” (oh, my angels! dad's so happy to see you again!) your husband exclaimed excitedly, wasting no time kneeling to catch their warm embraces in full, “have you two been good?” he asked, lifting your daughter up in his arms earning an excited giggle from her and taking your son's hand in his free one before standing back up, “naeam ya 'baba!” (yes daddy!), your little girl giggled excitedly, “we built a house!” she squealed, pointing at the blanket fort. it was quite a big fort filled with small fairy lights and plenty of pillows and maybe a few snacks littered here and there from their 'construction break'. you three had spent hours making ‘the biggest house for baba’ for when he would get back and the kids are evidently very proud of the outcome of their hard work.

“(maman/baba etc.) said we could sleep here tonight!” the little boy chimed in, shaking his dad's hand to catch his attention. kalim could only grin widely at this, “well,” he started, “since you both worked so hard building the house, i say we all sleep here tonight!” the gasps from the kids and the happy cheers that followed indicated the joy they felt. he's always been a natural with them and you always adored him with children. it's just that he can get quite busy sometimes, which even he has told you about how saddened he is whenever he's apart from his family. and so whenever he has time, you can be sure every second is devoted to you and the kids. his whole heart is with you, after all. always has been since the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago.

“alright kids,” he said, placing a kiss on your daughter's cheek and squeezing your son's hand gently, “jamil will take you to get you cleaned and ready for bed, okay?” they both grinned in response, “okay!” the kids said simultaneously.

“kalim.” jamil gave a disapproving look, “how many times must i tell you that this is the nanny's job and not mine.” he said in an annoyed tone while simultaneously taking the little girl in his arms and holding onto the boy's hand. this is when you come in from behind, wrapping your arms around your husband's waist, “aw, but they like you, jamil. don't you, kids?”

“i love uncle jamil!” the younger one giggled, “he's one of the funny grown ups.”

jamil let out a defeated sigh, “come on, children. let's get you both cleaned up.” he said, softly shaking his head and if you looked close enough you could see the soft smile on his lips as they walked away.

as soon as the silly questions of, ‘when will you get married’ and ‘can i pet your parrot, uncle?’ faded off into the distance, kalim wasted no time peppering every inch of your face in kisses and tackling you to the blanket fort as both of you giggled and laughed like middle schoolers rolling over the soft silky fabric under your skin. safe to say no matter how old you get, the love you and your husband share will forever remain the same as when it first blossomed from years ago.

⑇

vil schoenheit ‹ pomefiore ›

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. it's the same as when you were both courting. he had a routine to follow whenever you would see each other on a date. flowers, then he'd check if you dressed right, take you out and give you the best night of your life.

and you know how people say ‘change is good’? well, there are also some things that stay the same over the years. and that was good for you, too. like how he'd book the best restaurant in the city or take you out for a romantic cruise on your wedding anniversary. those nights were always perfect. and at the end of those nights is the same as well. paparazzi flashing their cameras at your face asking the most ridiculous questions. people getting in your business. that was the down side of your relationship with vil, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. you knew what you were getting into the day you married him.

but oh sevens. when will they give you a break? it's your wedding anniversary with vil again tonight and he had a whole evening planned out for you. but there was a swarm of paparazzi outside the penthouse you were staying in. your husband had an upcoming movie and that had everyone abuzz and trying to get some statements out of him. there were so many to the point where you both had to go back inside because you could see the camera flashes with your eyes closed. well, you could. vil was used to it. but he wasn't about to force you to run out there with him again. your perfect night hasn't started yet and you already looked exhausted from that temporary encounter. vil silently cursed them for that.

after maybe 30 minutes of waiting for them to leave and with no luck of it ever happening, the blonde stood up from his spot on the couch, “that's it,” he spoke with a tone of finality in his voice, “get changed, darling. we're leaving.”

the confusion was evident in your face and it only made sense when vil came out wearing a hoodie, jeans and mask over his face. he hated wearing such common looking clothes, but sometimes situations call for it. and for you, frankly, he would do almost anything.

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. he absolutely hated when his plans wouldn't pull through but sometimes he finds serendipity in even the most dreary situations with you. you could spend your anniversary on a special yacht with the best waiters serving you first class meals and a candlelit dinner or just in a parking lot inside your car with cheap wine that you both agreed tasted awful but kept drinking anyway and at the end of the day, everything still works out. as long as you're by his side, he can learn to be contented even with all the disorganization of ruined plans as long as he's laughing to trashy radio podcasts and temporarily (today's a special exception, he says) ruining his diet for you.

⑇

idia shroud ‹ ignihyde ›

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. you know idia better than most people around you. he wasn't exactly the easiest person to get to know because of his very reserved personality but he is one of the smartest and funniest people you know. and you'd hoped that since he is one of the smartest people you know and you're actually married to him, he'd lend a hand when you're trying to do a little bit of spring cleaning to at least make the house look like it's a habitable place and not just a reserve for an endless supply of red bull and monster energy drinks. though the house wasn't necessarily ‘messy’, but it always seemed pretty empty and lacking a bit of life to it. so you thought of doing a bit of rearranging, putting up new decorations and replacing a couple furnitures which you both had bought and majority picked out by him.

this has been the third time you'd checked in his office and your patience was growing thin. you watched him from the doorway as he typed away some sort of code in his computer which was the only light source in the room. you crossed your arms as you called out his name, “idia shroud.” before flicking the light switch on making him hiss at the sudden brightness. he flinched upon seeing you. uh-oh. you used his full name, this can't be good.

“i've been calling you down to help me assemble the table. i'm not good at building things!”

“and i told you i'd be there in a bit. i'm just finishing things up around here.”

“idia.”

“okay! fine. jeez you don't have to threaten me.” he threw his hands up in the air in defeat as he stood up from his chair, “you're lucky i love you.”

you cocked a brow at this comment, arms still crossed across your chest and he rolled his eyes, “fine. other way around, i know. i'm lucky you love me.” he sighed but this time with a smile on his face as he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, “now where is that table you need me to build?”

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. but you know idia better than most people around you. and he sometimes would seem detached and spends most of his time in his own company in front of his computer, he truly cares about you and your happiness. the amount of love he shows through the things he does, even the most menial of tasks like bearing the new, less darker curtain colors that you wanted to put up on the windows or stopping whatever new project he was trying to develop to help you move the new couches around the house. he would never do this for anyone else. and as you both sit under the kitchen counter, a bag of open chips on the floor and soda in your hands looking over at the new house makeover you both spent all day working on, you smiled.

“i'm lucky you love me.” you said, taking a sip of your soda and putting your head on his shoulder. he let out a short, breathy laugh before placing a soft kiss on your temple, “wanna go play mario kart and ruin our newly bought couch with chip crumbs?”

“sure.” you said, slowly standing up. you took a few seconds to stare at each other before you started sprinting to the couch, “last one to get there is in charge of cleaning it up!”

“hey, no fair!”

“nothing's fair in mario kart, babe!”

⑇

malleus draconia ‹ diasomnia ›

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. you make the most emptiest of places feel alive with love and laughter. you painted his life with colors that he could never see with anyone else.

and speaking of painting, he'd snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the metal part of he paintbrush clinked on the glass of the jar as the painter dipped the brush into the water. he gave you a glance where you were sat, looking straight at the back of the canvas as if trying to bore a hole onto the painting focusing on keeping your face straight and expressionless as instructed. it was traditional for briar valley's royalty to have their portraits painted whenever there was an addition to the family. and this case, the new addition was you when you both married. and now as he sat beside you, stealing glances he was sure you noticed by the way your lips twitched, he couldnt help but think of how the morning sun's rays seeping into the room that bathed your skin with the soft golden glow of the 10:00 am sun. it made you look absolutely beautiful. well, you always looked beautiful in his eyes. it's why—

someone cleared their throat.

“your highness,” the painter called out to him, “eyes front, if you please.”

he quickly straightened himself, “my apologies.” he hastily responded. he could hear you suck in a breath beside him, probably trying to contain the giggle that was trying to escape your throat.

another 20 minutes of silence passes. just the soft brushing of the paintbrush against the canvas and the occasional clink of the glass could be heard. he couldn't help but steal a glance at you again but to his surprise, you had your eyes on him as well. upon seeing his gaze shift to your figure, you immediately played it cool pretending you weren't looking but the way the smile threatened to break your facade betrayed you. malleus couldn't help the corner of mouth from twitching.

you did your little inhale again to try to compose yourself but uncharacteristically for him, he found that quite humorous abd had to clear his throat to keep him from letting out a laugh.

now that made you break out a smile and clear your own throat to try and stop yourself from bursting into full blown laughter.

you heard the irritation of the painter in the way he placed his paintbrush down. he stood up and gave you and malleus a sharp look before speaking in a very annoyed voice, “i shall go and have a drink delivered to both highnesses as to aid you both in the supposed strains on your throats.”

he made his way to the door, grumbling to himself about how ‘undignified’ or how ‘not taken seriously’ the situation was.

there was a moment of silence before you and malleus burst into a fit of bubbly laughter. his laughs were in his chest escaping in low vibrations while yours were loud and sharp simply to show how hilarious you found the situation to be. with how glorious both your attires were for the portraits looking like the epitome of royalty, the way you were both giggling like teenagers simply threw all the gloriousness out the window.

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. even the most boring events in his life that once he would have been forced to accept in all its blandness would be splashed with the most vibrant colors whenever you were in the picture. his life, his love, his pride and joy—you. now that he's seen colors he never would've imagined to be possible to exist in all its dazzling beauty, he can never go back to the dreary shade of gray that hazed over his life. you were his freedom, and he would be ready fight the world to hear your laughter by his side till death do you part.

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