Slashers x Reader One-Shot Book

Brahms Heelshire | Tea Time

Saturday's were good days. They were the rare times when you didn't have to go to work- they were the rare times where you could spend your day lounging at home with the man in the walls. Brahms was an interesting man. He was lovely, or at least he seemed that ay from the very few times you had seen him. He was timid, shy, maybe even a small bit afraid of you and your lack of fear towards him. After your initial discovery of his existence, you had been rightfully startled, but after suspecting a ghost or a demon a normal human man was significantly more comforting. You had continued to take care of him, speaking to him through the walls when he was hiding though he rarely spoke back. You had run into him wandering around the house from time to time, spoken to him as if he was just a regular man, and he was beginning to trust you just as you learned to trust him.

Work had been kicking your ass, so the weekend was a dream come true. You were seated in the upstairs library, an old, dusty book held in your hand, savoring the soft sunlight filtering through the grand windows as a record played softly in the background. The classical tunes danced around you, one you knew well as it seemed to be Brahms' favourite. You pulled the grey knitted blanket closer around you, sliding your thumb underneath one worn page and flipping it gently, careful not to tear the delicate paper. Though your eyes scanned the page, you found your mind drifting elsewhere, to the thought of warm tea on the porch in the soft sunlight. The thought was made better as you imagined Brahms slinking from his hiding place to come and sit down with you. You had grown fond of him in your time together. As you finished the page- though you didn't retain any information from it- you slipped you bookmark into place and let it fall shut. You leaned forwards, setting it down on the dark coffee table, and stood from the leather chair. The blanket you had been holding sank down the the floor, but you didn't bother to pick it up, instead moving towards the grand doorway.

"Brahms?" You call, slowly descending the stairs and awaiting any form of response, "I'm making tea, if you would like some!" At last, you hear three little taps at the base of the stairs, a smile crawling onto your face. As you pass the spot they resonated from, you rapped your own knuckles right back, signifying you had heard him and continuing to the kitchen. The kettle was already on the stove from the night before, and you plucked it from it's place, running it under the tap as you flicked the stove on. Somewhere in the house you heard shuffling, creaking, a gentle click- you assumed it was the opening and closing of the mirror in the game room. To set your speculation in stone, the looming figure of Brahms slowly turned the corner, the tall man wringing his hands nervously. "Good morning," You hum, glancing over your shoulder- you have to look away again to hide your grin at the sight of him. He stood with his shoulders more squared than usual, which must have been easier on his neck. That was an improvement- but what really amazed you was the fact that he was clean. He wore black pants and a pale grey shirt, with a navy blue cardigan you had recently bought for him. His hair was washed and shining in the morning light, his green yes glittering from behind his porcelain mask.

"Good morning," He says back, inching a few steps closer to peer curiously over your shoulder as you worked. "Do we have Belgian Mint?" He flicks his gaze towards the tea cabinet, laden with all sorts of flavors both bagged and loose- Belgian Mint was his favourite, the taste of rich dark chocolate and cool peppermint.

"Of course, always," You smile to him, "Do you mind grabbing it for me?" He nods and scurries away just as the kettle begins to whistle. Giving it one more moment, you flick off the stovetop and shift the kettle from one boiler to the other. Brahms returns, and in his hands is the box of tea leaves. "Thank you, Brahms." You grin, nodding your head in thanks and accepting the box as he held it out to you.

"Can I pick teacups?" His tone is shy, hands still wringing, his head taking on a precious tilt that almost makes your heart melt. You can't possibly say no to him, and the moment you nod he's gone and scurrying to the china cabinet. For a moment, you rest your hands on the warm top of the counter. The window bathes the room in soft, golden light, just the right temperature. It was going to be a gorgeous day. "Are these ones okay?" You're startled, jumping at Brahms' voice right in your ear as he sets down his teacups of choice. The cups are dainty, a pale rose in colour with a golden rim. Inside of the cup, butterflies had been painted, unique and perfect.

"They're great, Brahmsy!" You smile to him, and crack open the top of the tea box. Pulling out two bags, you set one into each cup, grabbing the kettle next and tilting the hot water to pour. The scent wafted around the room, warm and sweet and pleasant, relaxing Brahms as he straightened his back the rest of the way and let his hands rest on the counter instead. He watched your slow movements, as you set the kettle aside and grabbed the tiny little teaspoons to scoop a minute amount of sugar into each, giving them a gentle stir. "There," You pick up the saucer your cup was rested upon, letting Brahms do the same. For his height and build, you had always found it amusing that he was so polite. "Where do you want to drink?" For a moment, Brahms ponders the question, tilting his head and you imagine he's biting his cheek as well but you can't be too sure with the mask.

"What about the back porch?" His answer surprises you, your eyebrows raising and you watch the way he shrinks into himself self-consciously. Hurrying to fix the mistake of letting your surprise show, you say,

"That sounds wonderful! In fact, I was hoping you would say that." Brahms had never liked the outside. The bugs and the birds and the risk of being seen despite the solitude around the mansion had always kept him inside. He had come out only once while you were reading in the garden to call you back inside, and even then he had refused to leave the porch. His eyes go bright again, and he straightens up with something akin to pride or flattery. Turning, he leads the way to the back door, teacup in one hand. Using his other, he pushed open the back door, letting you pass through. "Thanks, Brahms," His eyes crinkle in the corner with a smile. As the door clicks shut, you take a seat on the porch swing, pulling your legs up to cross them and resting your teacup on one knee, careful not to let it go.

"It's quite pretty today," Brahms mentions, his emerald eyes glittering beautifully. For a moment, in his words, you swear you could hear his voice go deeper. For the first time it occurred to you that Brahms most likely had a voice more alike someone of his age. You didn't let the thought linger. You would never ask him to let you hear it, that was for him to decide. He sits on the porch swing at your side, leaning back against the backrest and tilting his chin up.

"It is." You agree with a soft hum, lifting your cup in Brahms' direction. He knows exactly how to respond- this is a sort of tea-drinking tradition. He lifts his own cup, clinking it gently against your, and then you turn away from one another. You hear shuffling, the soft clink of porcelain on wood, and then, in tandem, the both of you lift your cups to your lips and take a sip. Right at your side, his mask was off, and though, as always, you were burning to get a look of his real face, you wouldn't dare violate him like that. And so, you drank, backs turned to one another, enjoying the silent company and the growing rays of the sun. You didn't speak, which was odd, but the silence was in no way uncomfortable. It was nice, quiet and kind and trusting. Sipping your dark chocolate and peppermint tea with Brahms the Man in the Walls right at your side, you've never ever felt more at peace. 

(A/N): I missed writing for slashers, and so, I am back. I won't be focusing solely on slashers again, but I will be writing for them from time to time. I missed it here in this fandom.