You wake up in the morning to the smell of breakfast, heading downstairs. As you get downstairs, you see your husband, Death, a huge, muscular grey wolf, cooking up pancakes, eggs and bacon with one arm, his other arm holding up your small son, Mikey, with one muscular arm. He sees you, giving you a gentle smile, giving you a wink with his black eyes and red pupils. You can tell he truly loves you. He's cooking with no shirt on, his muscular chest on full display and a pair of brown pants.

"Morning chica~" He says in his deep, smooth voice