y/n pressed their back against the door hauling bags full of groceries. They pushed the bags down to their forearm and dropped them on the counter, addressing Brahms who laid on top of the kitchen island staring at the fan that circled above.
His expression was thoughtful, calculative and; strangely human. He didn't move away from his position, only glared presumably annoyed at something.
What now? You rolled your eyes and sat on the table next to him. You'd wish he would go through his dramatic mood swings in somewhere normal like his bed and not surrounded by groceries on a table.
" . . . Brahms?" you couldn't find the right words to say to him.
"What." He said sternly, turning away from me.
You didn't know how to comfort a killer, and you never thought you would've needed that skill sooner or later.
"You're doing okay over there?"
He groaned loudly, stretching like a large cat on a thin fence.
Comforting people wasn't your best skill when it comes to working with children, or more specifically, grown men who sometimes act like babies. When people show too much emotion, you find them to be the most unreadable.
The best you could do was observe. As he stretched lazily, you tried to figure out how he was able to maintain such a nice figure over the years.
you're not the type of person to check someone out or anything like that, but considering the way he was so comfortably raised hidden from unsuspecting eyes, he was quite something to admire.
You had noticed his curls perfectly frame his face as you dip your eyes down to his-
"Stop staring at me!" He covered his face with his hands gently, as you jumped down from the county and scrambled for a bag.
"I well, um I mean, I didn't really-" you pushed back your hair and sighed, and started taking out the seasonings you recently purchased. You decided to ignore the fact that Brahms was stifling his laughter since whatever bothered him was gone for a moment.
"Anyways," you decided to shift the awkward moment before he questioned "What do you want me to cook?"
Brahms slid off the counter stiffly, and picked up an apple from a stray bag left on the counter.
He rubbed his hip silently, which made you guess the 'incident' that happened not too long ago might've caused his discomfort.
"There's this recipe I remember, my mom used to make all the time," he looked at the apple thoughtfully, and looked up at you in the same interest "I'd like to try it out with you.its german Apple Cake"
"I've never made it before but i've heard of it." you looked up at brahms and smiled " you can go in the living room and i'll call you when its-"
"No, I was suggesting that I'd make it with you." you were cut off quickly as he added "I want to be useful today and I am not a child to wait and play."
"Ah okay," you felt as if he took your empty comment personally, but either way you were pleased that he would stay " uhhh do you have the recipe?"
Brahms had gotten out of his quick daze, and rummaged through one of the topmost drawers behind you.
"It should be around here somewhere-" He flicked gently through an old recipe book with his smooth-looking hands, almost like the porcelain doll you had once cared for.
You had expected his hands to be calloused and bruised, but maybe he was more gentle with his appearance than you had thought him to be.
"y/n?" He pointed his finger at the book, "here."
YOU ARE READING
Brahms heelshire x reader ( "The boy" Fanfiction)
FanfictionWhat would happen if y/n stayed with Brahms instead of leaving him? Would they have lived a happy life together or would y/n become his next murder victim? **I don't even know if I should consider this a one-shot fic or not** Disclaimer and stuff:...
