*MC Had Decided To Check Again The Ancient Texts Malleus Translated, But One In Particular Caught Their

Art by Quentin Marsollier

Seventeen - Heathers | Scarabia animatic 🐍☀️

———

I love thinking about what JamiKali’s dynamic would’ve been if things had gone differently. I feel like both Jamil’s and Kalim’s personalities would really shine in ways we haven’t seen before of them (though maybe later, who knows! There going through a lot of development in the main story so here’s to hoping 🤞)

Ramblings/analysis under the cut

——

——

This song, Seventeen, speaks of a desire to JUST be seventeen years old, to be normal, to not have damage and scars dictate all you are. I found this song very fitting with Jamil and Kalim, because they’re seventeen, but neither had the opportunity to ever just be normal teenagers. They’ve both gone through a lot, they’re “damaged”, but that doesn’t make them wise, or special, or different. They’re still just teenagers, not yet emotionally developed, young, and not capable of carrying so much weight on their shoulders. The line “we don’t choose who lives or dies” I find particularly applies well to Jamil’s whole, ahum, incident, but also in general to Jamil’s desire to be in control of things (which of course stems from his desire to be in control of his own life, so one could argue that he wants to be in control of whether he lives or dies).

Sometimes I feel we tend to forget how young the twst characters are. Even Leona, sitting at 20 years old, I’d consider relatively young, which just makes everything they go through that much sadder. They’re so young, and though there will never really be an age where it’s easy to handle this sort of stuff, as a teenager it’s even harder because life is already so complicated and difficult for them (speaking as if I’m not a teen myself lol).

Kalim in this song/animatic pleads to just be normal, to do normal teenage things, to set aside all the complicated feelings that have been bubbling under the surface for both of them, all the stupid things their lives have thrown at them, and to just be seventeen. Not the Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden, not Master and Servant, not an Asim and a Viper, but just Jamil and Kalim, just two seventeen year old boys.

———

Soooo it’s been a month… I promise I’m not dead and I also haven’t lost interest in twst, I’ve just been hyperfixating on other things, plus I’ve been really busy with school. Drawing can be really hard sometimes :(

I kinda pulled a Wiege (Alien Stage) by including some weird AU of some sorts huh! What a fun episode Wiege was, I totally didn’t sob violently! Also!!! The Scarabia manga has FINALLY released and its so cool!!! Well worth the way. The new Yuu is a Gyaru, and she’s so cool! I had my doubts on the artist they chose, but honesty they really delivered, I’m really happy with how the manga looks :)

i love you i love you i love you i love you. (yan kalim x fem reader)

content: yandere behavior.

[more under the cut! <3]

hehehe look at him plotting !!

yandere!kalim (post-scarabia arc), for me, is someone who you first deem as an extroverted acquaintance who also happens to be your upperclassman. He yearns to be closer to you, so he does it in the way he knows best; socialization. It's not even noticeable at first - how he slowly worms his way into your inner social circle. You just suddenly acknowledge one day that after class, it's not just the hearshackle trio waiting for you at the entrance of the classroom, but the scarabia housewarden is also there, too.

And it's nothing unusual. nothing to think too much about, really. who doesn't like being kalim's friend? he's energetic, he's optimistic, and he's just so, so nice. he often comes across as naive, sure, but that's just the surface level of him as a person. plus it's hard not to be pulled into his gravitational pull, and who are you to deny a budding friendship?

As the friendship grows and your bond with him strengthens, so too do his feelings. And with less than platonic feelings, a new emotion he hasn't felt before is introduced; envy. It's not an obvious emotion that he shows at first. but when he treks back to scarabia (with jamil trailing a few steps behind) after an afternoon spent with you (and your heartslabyul friends)... kalim feels a green-eyed monster taking form underneath his skin. he is envious of how close you are to the other dorms, he envies your first-year best friends, and he's so envious of how he wasn't the first housewarden you formed a bond with.

it's fine to feel this way, right? there's nothing wrong with jealousy, it's a part of life!

still, he can't bear to stand the constant prickling sensation in his beating heart when he sees people get closer to you. his shiny glazes over and his sunny smile drops into a straight line. it's uncanny to see him this way.

even more so, when he snaps back to how he usually acts after he's successfully detached you from the student you were interacting with.

sigh... this is my first time paneling comics, doing a small drabble writing for this, AND drawing kalim pls don't bully me </3

Empire

Being crowned as empress of the Yuunkaedangon empire at the age of 17, you begin to start loving the new status and power. But it soon gets a bit boring and demanding the moment you turned 18. Harem? Heirs? Tf not!

Possible Au??

Words: 1.5k

Fem reader but I don’t really say any she or her in this.

-

One thing you hated since you were young was tradition. Being told that you can’t do things your way because it wasn’t “appropriate” or “right”. The day you were crowned as empress of Yuunkaedangon, you were only 17 years old. There was a huge celebration that day that lasted 4 days.

It was fun at first. Being in control, power, money, respect, especially at a young age. But soon after, it started becoming…rather a bit boring and annoying. The higher ups wouldn’t stop nagging you about what your next big step is. Most importantly, when are you going to start your harem?

You scoff at the idea. You just turned 18 and they are already asking -demanding- about possible lovers and heirs?

How annoying

Now your kingdom isn't shy when it comes to polygamy. Past ancestors are known for having the biggest harem any kingdom has had.(lots and lots of kids…). And you weren’t opposed to the idea either but you just didn’t feel like starting one now.

But it was only a matter of time of how much you can endure before you crack.

Which brings you here

The Roseheart family

Mrs. Roseheart stands before you with a deep bow. She presents you her son, Riddle Roseheart. He stands gracefully beside his mother.

Not bad

Riddle is definitely an attractive boy, but you really don’t care about having a consort at the moment.

Why can’t those annoying vassals leave you alone?

But the way Mrs. Roseheart dug her fingers into the boys shoulder after noticing your lack of interest. You can see the fear in the boy's eyes.

Interesting

With a heavy sigh, you accept him.

Mrs. Roseheart smiles before bowing before you. You stared them down from your gold throne. Not missing the relief on the boy's face.

That night Mrs . Roseheart leaves but not before whispering something in the boy's ear which causes him to nod. He turns to you, a little shy to be left alone with you now.

“Don’t worry, in here you are safe” You tell him. He stills for a moment. Processing your words in his head before he nods.

-

Having him by your side wasn’t bad. You were actually grateful for having someone intelligent and knowledgeable like him by your side. He has been a huge help to you when you are stuck with something regarding the kingdom. Now this isn’t to say you were dumb, you are actually a very intelligent and strong kid since you were young. You were taught great etiquette lessons, sword practice, literature, educated in arts, etc.

which made your father very proud.

But sometimes with all the vassal nagging at you every second that you breathed, kills your brain cells. Literally.

So having riddle is such a relief and a blessing. Though you won’t say that he’s a little…dedicated to his duties.

You were tired and agitated after another day of dealing with your vassals and their obsession with you having a heir.

Jeez, can they give you a break?

The moment you opened your door chambers you nearly went into cardiac arrest upon seeing Riddle on your bed with nothing but a robe.

You quickly turned around and asked him what he was doing. The boy was confused and also a little embarrassed before saying that as his duty as a consort, it’s his responsibility to give you an heir.

Sevens what’s with people and heirs?!

You sigh before telling him in the sweetest tone that he doesn’t have to do that. The both of you are still young and you don’t want to pressure him into doing something he doesn’t want to do. He tries to reason with you but you still refuse. It isn’t because he’s not attractive, which was his first thought and you quickly reassured him that wasn’t the case.

But you can also tell this is something his mother wanted him to do. So you told him that it wasn’t necessary. When he brings up the vassals and their demands for an heir, you tell him not to worry about them.

They aren’t important anyways

Before he could say anything, you give him a small kiss on his head before sending him off to his chamber.

You attended a ceremony, and if you’re being honest, you dont know whose it is or what it’s about. (It’s literally held in your palace and it’s for you)

You watch as different men and women flaunt at you in hopes of being picked. You can see in the corner of your eye riddle getting a little jealous.

How cute

You took a sip of your wine as you watched people dance and joke in laughter. Riddle sits by your side, enjoying a delicious tart made by one of your many favorite bakers. (The clovers will always get it right every time) your eyes roamed lazily through the crowd of people before halting at the sight of the kingsholar family.

The Sunset Savanna royals

The king and queens faces light up at the sight of you. They make their way towards you and riddle and you quickly down the rest of your wine. The three of you talk, politics, land, everything you can think of. Now the kingsholar are angels really but you weren’t really in the mood to talk. You nod along to whatever the king was saying and even smile or laugh here and there after he says something remotely funny.

As you and the king chatted, while his wife and riddle talked about how his life in the palace is, your attention shifts to the figure standing all alone in a corner. Sipping wine as a scowl is permanently attached to his face.

“And- oh?” He follows your gaze before chuckling.

“That’s my younger brother. Leona kingsholar! Wanna meet him?” And before anything could leave your mouth the man called him over. Leona scowls deeper at the call of his name, he downs his cup before beginning to walk to where the four of you are.

“Leona! Meet the empress of Yuunkaedangon! Empress, this is my younger brother and the second born prince of sunset savanna, Leona” you gave him a greeting as he did the same.

Now you have heard about the second prince of the sunset savanna, but you never saw what he looks like. After all, the second born prince rarely leaves his room, according to rumors and news.

And boy oh boy. you won’t lie, he’s a very beautiful man

“Ah! So me and my wife have heard about the beginning of your new…harem!” You froze. The glass of delicious tasty wine rested on the tip of your tongue at the king's words.

Don’t tell me

You lowered your cup. A wide smile spreads across your lips before asking him where he is going with this.

“Guess you caught on. Well, my brother has been having a little trouble I suppose, on finding a wife…or any girl really- and so I thought it would be a wonderful idea if you allowed him to join you and your harem” Oh he was serious.

Both Leona and riddle froze. Leona obviously had not a single clue that his brother was basically selling him out to you. (His words)

The king waited patiently for your response, while Riddle anxiously waited for your answer.

“And is Leona okay with this?” You ask. You didn’t want to force this man in your harem and make him think he doesn’t have a choice! The king blinks, not expecting you to ask him that. He then turns to the younger prince of Sunset Savanna and asks him.

“Well? Are you up for it?” Now everyone's attention was on Leona. He stays silent for a moment, thinking. You waited patiently for his answer. Leona eyes flicker down to see you gently caressing riddles hand that was wrapped around your arm. He can tell that you are really gentle with the redhead.

He scoffs before looking away.

“I don’t care”

“Excellent!” The king cheers. You look to meet Leona’s emerald green eyes. Kinda asking him if he was truly okay with it.

After all, eyes never lie.

-

The night the vassals heard about your new addition to your harem, they grew excited. For what reason? You don’t know. Something about sunset savanna now becoming new allies for the Yuunkaedangon empire and more land, trades, possible heirs (they whispered that part).

You brushed through Leona brown locks. He was looking at the new collection of hair pins, accessories, jewelry, and combs that you have bought for him upon his arrival. Riddle was sitting down on one of your many fluffy and comfortable chairs as he read a book.

You love how peaceful and soothing this moment felt. Leona's eyes were closed as he let you play and mess around with his hair. As much as he likes to act like he doesn’t like it, he loves the way your hands run and play through his hair. Your touch was soft and gentle. That’s what he first noticed when moved in. You were gentle.

You never raised your voice, hand, or did anything that would seem harmful to him or riddle. He’s obviously heard countless stories about emperors/ empresses treating their consorts/concubines terribly. But you…you aren’t like that.

He likes it

How gentle you are

But there’s no way in hell he’ll ever tell you that.

Nuh uh!

For now, he’ll enjoy your presence silently.

-

Riddle and Leona for now. I don’t know if I should do it as dormleaders ONLY or overblot characters (Jamil or Kalim, IDK HELP ME PICK)

Good night!👍🏻

Kalim: Jamil, by any chance, do you know someone named MC who is wanted?

Jamil: *quickly looked at him with a frown*

Kalim: ...

Kalim: I'm just curious.

Jamil: ...

Jamil: *crossed his arms* Yes, that person is a known killer. Though I wonder how you know that name, given that you don’t even bother watching the news.

Kalim: ...

Kalim: *laughs awkwardly* Uh, Jamil? I'm feeling hungry...

Jamil: *stared at him for a few seconds before letting out a sigh*

Jamil: Alright. Wait here. *then left*

Kalim: Phew...

Kalim: *has been staring at the phone MC lent him*

Kalim: *sigh* How am I going to give this back?

Kalim: I’m sure neither Jamil nor my parents would allow me to look for them if I said they’re a wanted criminal. But I’d feel guilty keeping this phone... What if they have no way to communicate with their friends?

Kalim: ...Wait. Do criminals have friends?

*laughs*

Kalim: *was startled by the sound of someone laughing and quickly turned his head toward the source*

MC: *suddenly appeared from the corner of his room*

MC: That hurts a bit. Anyway, *smiles* it's a good to see you again, Kalim~!

Kalim: Eh? How did you—

MC: How did I know your address? I didn’t! You have something that belongs to me, and that’s how I found you. Amazing, right~?

Kalim: Y-Yes! Wow! No wonder you're not caught yet!

MC: ...

MC: *giggles* Won't you get in trouble being friendly with a criminal, young master~?

Kalim: ...

Kalim: Oh! Right! Here’s your phone! Thank you for saving me the other day!

MC: *tilts their head; acts confused* Hmm? But I'm not here for that.

Kalim: Eh?

MC: *smiles* It's yours now, cutie. You're going to need it.

Kalim: What do you mean—

Jamil: *enters the room* Kalim, are you awake?

Kalim: Y-Yes!

Jamil: ...

Jamil: Why are you being nervous?

Kalim: Huh?

Jamil: *frowns* Were you doing something before I got here?

Kalim: N-No! I— *glanced at where MC had been standing earlier, but now they were gone*

Kalim: ...

Kalim: I think there was a bug...

Jamil: ...

Jamil: You should've told me sooner. *then hurriedly left*

Kalim: ...

*Kalim received a text message from MC's phone: Keep my phone with you at all times, okay~?. ^^*

Thinking abt the concept of a twst!au...

Universal love!reader?

Like think about it...

Let's say this could happen after years of trauma in your world... like suddenly, you have no motivation to do anything, no brushing teeth, no showering, no nothing. So then you slept that night. Right? So you're living in your apartment, low minimum-wage of salary in your part-time job, an apartment that (thankfully) had a clean bathroom and other rooms. And a left necklace... huh? So, you've asked the apartment manager abt it, they said they didn't know at all. The previous homeowners did not have that, sparkly magica-madoka looking necklace. So, of course you've kept it with you since it reminds you of Magica Madoka. And you wore it. Now, time to sleep...

Suddenly you wake up, roll over your bed, and get teleported magical-girl transition style. Into the fucking aesthetically pleasing location of the sea. Of course, you had no clothes on (how did that happen??), BUT then, you get suddenly pushed up, and you met with a bathtub in the center of a beautiful-looking gazebo. And when you lay back down to sleep again, you felt a very comfortable and soft pillow-headrest. WTF? The water you were I was somehow connected to a very clean and sparkly river. And the petals around you were your favorite flowers. And two space-like hands, gentle, firm, and soft. The hands of a woman. But from where? The cracked seams of reality BEHIND YOU? Uhm, well shit, where was this spoiling when you were born???

So after that luxurious bathtime, you fell into the waters (again), but the background was new. IT LOOKED LIKE BARBIE'S WALK-IN CLOSET FROM BARBIE'S DREAMHOUSE??? YAAA- Anyways, you were met with a shit-ton of aesthetic college uniforms that definitely matches your taste and make your classmates jealous. So, of course, like the universe itself is reading your mind (bc it is), dressed you up in a comfortable clothing of your uniform. Before it could finish giving you socks/shoes of your choosing.

You were on your bed. With your bag leaning sideways on the bed beside you. So, enough of this bullshit where you were on drugs early morning. You grabbed your bag, checked your mirror to see if you were high or something.

You weren't.

So after a hectic and diabolical day of college, you of course, slept (after the magical-whatever thingy happened again) since you were tired. (The classmate you hated tripped down the stairs as you were praying for it, that one teacher you hate suddenly got sick and had gone absent, gym was dismissed early bc of an incident, and the other subjects like math were a bit easier to understand), so when you slept AGAIN.

Okayyy, so... Maybe it stopped now? Nope. You went to the kitchen to take a quick breakfast since you MIGHT be late to school (secretly you weren't but shh), then you see. On the counter, a freshly made breakfast of your favorite dish. You tasted it ofc. Bc it smelled so nice. And surprisingly it wasn't poisoned! Yay! You went to school, tripped over air, but vines had shot out to catch you? Oh, well things just got even weirder. Until it happens everyday. Everytime you mentioned or even THOUGHT of getting your favorite fashion clothes (look those styles ESPECIALLY MORUTES OR ANGELCORE OR OR EVEN CUTECORE, CELESTIAL CORE-) and whatever, suddenly you have a closet JUST FOR THAT. Huh...did the universe finally take notice of you? Yay! (And maybe other multi-universes justttt incase you suddenly go to their world, haha.)

...You were transported. (And it wasn't the universe or ANY universe doing that...) to... Twisted Wonderland? What. Are you in a kids cartoon show... (no you aren't bby🫶 your in a psyche ward). And after the whole Showdown in that ceremony shit (dark mirror saying you have no magic in the MOST respectful ways possible while still sounding nonchalant and mysterious, the whole showdown with Grim happened and blah blah blah). You get sent to Ramshackle's. Yikes. Oh, but instead it kinda works. Just looks like a doll-house of sorts. Creepy but aesthetically pleasing.

Wdym it wasn't supposed to look like that, Crowley?

So, imagine this, you can ask the dark mirror whatever you like, and it'll answer you (not abt your home though... smh), and whatever you do in school (directing this to the ghosts and whoever works there), actually treats you nicely! (When you and Grim were assigned as janitor you didn't do any of the work. The broom was doing it for you... IS THE TRASH PICKING ITSELF UP?)

How would YOU think the cast will react to that? (Not taking requests rn! Just talk with me please 🙏)

An aquarium in Japan was closed for renovations, and their resident sunfish got depressed not seeing visitors. So the staff put some uniforms with printed faces against the tank, and it immediately recovered.

It's very easy to categorize the overblot as a breakdown- but all of them have a different type of lashing out.

Riddle's behavior is a trauma response. He is not listening; instead, he is solely focused on himself, which is a reaction to not feeling heard compared to his mother. She is the person he fears the most, and although he hates that he loves her, he feels conflicted. She was supposed to help him grow, but instead, she only shielded him from the realities of life.

Leona is driven by fear. He’s afraid of finishing in first place because he’s so accustomed to starting from second. The thought of being vulnerable, admitting his fears, and acknowledging his struggles terrifies him. He is so frightened that he resorts to using dirty tricks.

Azul struggles with vulnerability; he avoids opening up or confronting his past. He remembers the child he was forced into hiding and a life of learning just to endure. This child has grown up to prefer lies over sincerity, believing that deception has brought him further in life.

Jamil is determined to gain control over his own life and choices. He feels this control is lacking due to his family's affiliation with Kalim. While he strongly desires control, this desire becomes unhealthy when it extends to others.

Vil is driven by his desire for recognition. He wants to be perceived as exceptional, a model that cannot be compared to others or regarded as inferior. He seeks to control how others view him to the extent that he is willing to manipulate their perceptions, which includes putting others down.

Idia struggles with trauma. He never overcame the death of Ortho or the events that affected him and his family. Forced to grow up quickly, he now finds himself unable to do many things that others take for granted. He struggles to communicate with people, suffers from low self-esteem, and experiences profound fear. This fear leads him to isolate himself in his room, as it feels like the only way he can cope with life.

Malleus explores the theme of loss—loss of a loved one, loss of oneself, loss of one's past, and loss of purpose. It reflects on the fear of change and the inevitability of things never being the same once someone you deeply care about is gone, even if it’s not your fault.

Tweeks recruitment making a continuous comic of my tfbw au! hopefully i can update it once a week... basically the origins of how wonder tweek joined the freedom pals

Next >

housewife syndrome

yandere! rockstar x fem! reader

cw; possessive + obsessive behaviour, severe mental instability, paranoia, anxiety, violence, heavy nsfw themes, mdni 18+

genie's notes; commissioned piece by a very sweet anon ♡ thank you so much for trusting me with this absolutely stunning idea. i’ve always been a fan of domestic horror, especially of the spiralling housewife variety, so it was fun to explore a new dynamic and fresh writing style. <3

"welcome home, sweetheart!" the television runs on low volume in the background as you greet your husband with a knowing smile. you run through the motions as you always do, make sure to ask with the most innocence you can muster, "how was your day?"

feroze can make out the sound of gallant applause that indicates you'd been watching reruns of last night's award ceremony.

"such a fucking drag." your husband pulls you into his arms, buries his head into the crook of your neck with a long, satisfied sigh and takes his sweet, sweet time to breathe you in. "couldn't fucking wait to come home to you, meri jaan."

his answer remains the same as it is every other day, and you can't help but smile against his lips when he pulls you in to steal a little kiss; you sigh into his mouth, and feroze is so fucking overwhelmed by gratitude for the familiarity and comfort of this little routine the two of you have seemed to settle down into so well.

"i love when you call me that," you confess; my life.

you know just as well as him that, well—it wasn't always this easy.

"yeah," feroze hums. "i know you do, baby."

you weren't always so lovely for him, were you?

-

you're quiet.

though the two of you are sitting across from each other at the dining table, your attention is clearly elsewhere. conversation is slow, if not stagnant. it's a far cry from how talkative you usually are; and though he would never fucking admit it, least of all to you, he worries, for a fraction of a second, that things are slipping.

"meri jaan?" he sets down his fork very carefully, reaches for your hands over the table.

you blink, pulled away from wherever you'd been lost in your mind and back down to this moment that stretches on before you.

"oh, sorry, my love. what was that?"

feroze watches your eyes quietly track the movement of his fingers, sliding over your wrists, lingering, momentarily, on your pulse—nice and steady—before they intertwine with your own.

your gaze lands on him, then, expectant. he drags his thumb over your knuckles, glad to find they're soft; unmarred by any labour. he loves having you here, tucked away within the walls of this home he built just for you, away from the rest of the rotten world.

such a darling girl like you deserves to have everything taken care of for you. as far as he's concerned, the only thing on your mind should be him.

which is why the silence is beginning to irritate him, now. he's not really upset with you, doesn't have a reason to be, just yet—he's just wondering what it is you're so focused on. where do you keep going back to in that head of yours, and why aren't you here with him?

is this where it all falls apart?

—again?

"rosy?" you try. "is everything alright?"

"yeah," feroze's hazel eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, endearingly patient. "i just wanted to know how your day was."

"ugh, don't remind me." you stick your tongue out. "it was so boring. i woke up so late today and didn't really do anything interesting."

"shit, i'm sorry to hear that, baby."

your husband nods towards the television, still playing from inside the living room across the hall; the screen's bright colours reflect against the glass windows that take up half the wall. though the program is muted, he can still hear the echoes from the cacophony of applause ringing loud and true.

the four hour program's been running on loop on some of the smaller channels, and you really seem to enjoy tuning in, he's noticed.

it would be more difficult not to notice this new habit of yours, really. because if he's been counting right, this is the seventh time you've seen the whole thing through to the end.

"seems like you were at least watching the music thing again."

"well, when my stunning husband won half of the awards," you shrug coyly. "how could i not?"

"flattery won't get you anywhere," feroze deigns, though neither of you mention the involuntary curl to his lips as they lift into a small, self-satisfied smile.

"huh, that's strange," you frown, pull your hands away from his own and make a show of examining the elaborately stacked engagement ring and marital band wrapped around your finger. "if i seem to remember correctly, flattery is exactly what got me this ring."

"oh," he laughs. "is that so?"

"uhuh," you nod, still admiring the rings. they're big and they're flashy and there's no fucking chance anyone could ever miss the sight of them; make the mistake of misunderstanding what they mean. you're so obviously his, and fuck, it suits you so perfectly to belong to him.

i love you, he thinks fiercely. i fucking love you.

"you've got an ego, rosy." your knowing gaze flickers back to him, accompanied by a teasing smile. "bit of a praise kink, too."

"and yet, darling wife," he'll never tire of calling you that; never really overcome the thrill that overwhelms him when he sees you adorned in the markers of his devotion and tucked away all safe and sound. "you're the only person whose words mean anything to me."

"ohh, is that so?" you taunt, "whatever happened to 'flattery won't get you anywhere?'"

feroze takes in the sight of you. you're dressed casual, donned in a baggy old shirt and a pair of his softest sweats hanging low off your hips. comfortable in your own home, as you should fucking feel, you have no makeup on, and your hair is unkempt; overdue for a shower; but fuck if he cares.

feroze decides, within a moment, that he needs you—

now.

"come here, meri jaan. i'll show you."

"you greedy, greedy man," you chastise lightly, rising from your seat. "i've just fed you dinner and you're still salivating at my table."

feroze watches you make the small effort of pushing your chair in, before turning on your heel. you pause in the doorway for a second, spare him a knowing glance over your shoulder; "well? aren't you hungry, darling husband?"

he knows that none of it evades you; the nervous bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. the way his fingers are digging into the edge of the table to keep from sinking inside of you right here. his heart is racing; his pants are tight. though you're so willing to be his now, he remembers it wasn't always this easy.

"my love." feroze grits out, "i'm fucking starving."

you disappear into the hallway, mellifluous laughter like the loveliest song, echoing off the walls—inside of his head, for fuck's sake—as your husband follows faithfully behind you when you lead him into the bedroom.

dinner goes cold on the table. you never touched your plate.

upstairs, minutes later, your husband bottoms out inside of the welcoming warmth of your sweet cunt, just as your fingers brush against the butcher's knife tucked right underneath your pillow.

-

feroze gets you to come twice before he decides he has his fill. he's rummaging through your nightstand for the contraceptives he knows you keep in there. it's got less to do with what he wants and more to do with what he believes is best for the two of you.

it's not that he doesn't want children; he dreams of them often. a little baby swaddled in the softest fabrics, wrapping its entire hand around just one of his fingers. the sound of a second pair of footsteps excitedly running down the hall every time he comes home from the studio, from tour. something more to take care of. to keep you busy.

but your husband knows you.

and though he's always been selfish, he can't risk kids until—well, until he knows you won't try to kill them.

it's taken you years to accept him. he won't undo that.

feroze, so caught up in his thoughts, only really registers the blade until it's slicing into his skin, the sharp edge of it pressing against the side of his neck with just enough pressure to draw blood.

he is disappointed, though by no means surprised, to find you on the other end wielding the knife.

he turns to face you, abandoning his search. you're holding onto the hilt of your makeshift weapon with trembling hands, and though he's suddenly overcome by exhaustion—because, baby, how many more times are you going to pull this—an involuntary shiver runs down his spine at the sight nonetheless.

"jaan," he tries to reason with you in hushed tones; oh, love. "what are you doing?"

you dig the knife in just a little deeper, and he winces; "i hate you, feroze." the words sting, though the relative lack of conviction they’re laced with serves as a promising sign of reconciliation.

"i know, baby. can you please just put the knife down so we can talk like adults?"

he glimpses the almost imperceptible change immediately.

the lines of hesitation on your face; a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. when your hold on the weapon looses just the tiniest fraction of an inch, he wastes no time in gently but firmly prying the knife from out of your trembling hands; tosses it underneath the bed where it lands out of your reach.

he’s getting better at this. gets through to you so much sooner than he used to.

you’re listening, now, aren’t you?

the thought of it makes him oddly proud.

"there we go," feroze says. you're still shaking, and though he wants so fucking desperately to pull you closer and console you—he's learnt to tread the waters carefully in times like these. you're evidently scared. obviously upset with him. he can give you a little room to breathe. “now do you want to use your words and talk to me properly?”

“i keep rewatching the awards show. every other winner had someone there with them. some girlfriend or wife they kissed before they went on stage. you’re the only one who—” you swallow, voice wavering. “i’m the only one who wasn’t there. i’m the only one who’s kept hidden away.”

“you don’t want to show me off.” the tears fall almost immediately. “you’re ashamed of me.”

there are millions of words in the english language, and millions more in his own. he’s put into words every fleeting feeling you’ve made him feel; spun both the most magnificent and mundane of emotions into beautiful songs and compelling lyrics and composed entire albums from nothing—and yet, somehow, in this moment all of it evades him.

"i spend all day stuck here w-waiting for you to come home, and when you do—i keep thinking about all those ceremonies and galas and parties you go to, rooms i can never follow you into—and i hate you. i hate you for how much you hate me—”

“i’m sorry,” feroze’s hands run up your spine, to lightly curl his fingers around the back of your neck. he tilts your head up so that you’re meeting his gaze; leaves you nowhere to look away, “meri jaan.”

his touch is so soft and so, so cold against your skin. you've always run warmer than him; but he thinks you might be burning up right now. maybe you've got a fever; or maybe you're just this delirious even without one. it doesn't fucking matter, doesn't change anything.

“i’m sorry for ever leaving you alone long enough to even think that. let me make it up to you. let me show you how much i adore you. let me build you back up again.”

“you can’t fix this,” you whisper.

he smiles, but it’s strange; doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “so you said the last time.”

-

hours later, you’re less of a sobbing wreck when he’s got you perched in his lap, and all curled up under his chin. “okay… then…” you sniff. your words are somewhat muffled as you bury your face into your husband’s chest. “i’m sorry, too. i didn’t mean to hurt you, rosy. i was just scared, i-i promise.”

"i know.” his knuckles wipe away the tears drying on your cheeks. “give me a kiss, please.”

and ever the sweet wife, you do; but your lips are trembling.

fuck, that’s—

shit.

—not going to work, is it?

with a gentle but firm hand, he pushes you down onto the bed and watches you land on your back amidst the dozens of pillows that decorate the bed. even then, the softest thing here is you. he forgets that, sometimes. let this be a lesson, he thinks to himself, to keep your fragility in mind. this is only further proof that you need him more than he'd even realised.

but you picked the right man, didn’t you? because none of that scares him.

the two of you have faced far more difficult times together; this is just a little hiccup in your life as a married couple. some story you’ll look back on and laugh about, when you’re all better.

so when you look up at him with wide, wet eyes and ask, "its just—can you promise me you still love me one more time?”

feroze regards you closely. you’re so beautiful. so fucking perfect that it overwhelms him. sometimes, he wishes you could see yourself the way that he sees you. though he’s always believed that may just scare you; knowing how deep his devotion really runs. things are fine as they are now.

well, mostly.

he has decided that he will retire from music completely, but the two of you can broach that topic when you’re in a better headspace for it. it’s been a long time coming. work keeps the money coming in, and he wants to spoil you but—he wants you to be happy, above all. you don’t really know what you’re asking for right now, but he has every intention of giving you exactly what it is you wished for.

he can’t give in when you beg to come along with him—but he can come and hide away next to you in this little pocket of the world that solely belongs to the two of you.

"you drive me to madness, my love. nothing about this life means anything if i can’t keep you happy.”

the two of you never had a white wedding; because he wanted to honour your union the right way and celebrate you as his culture deigned. so, yes, he never got to read you any vows, but he'd like to think you've come to know him well enough to understand he doesn't necessarily need to say something so sacred out loud for it to hold true.

"do you understand? i love you," he lowers his forehead against yours. “till death does us apart.”

you put your heart in his hands one more time, looking so small, so vulnerable beneath him. "you promise?"

"i promise," he closes his eyes and revels in the soft, sweeping feeling of your lashes fluttering against his own. "always and forever, meri jaan."

feroze loves you, of this he's certain.

he also knows that you fucking terrify him.

it's a small price to pay, if it means keeping you—

besides, he thinks, reaching once more for the contraceptive pills on the nightstand.

—marriage is all about compromise, is it not?