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imagine-darksiders · 2 months

Note

I’m having a really hard time right now. I just found out that my boyfriend of 2.5 years has been cheating on my physically and emotionally. Can I please request something fluffy and comforting of the horsemen reacting to finding out this news or just something fluffy with death? If not no worries, I hope you have a lovely day.

Oh my god that's awful! What a horrible, horrible thing for someone to do to you. I'm so sorry, I've channelled a bit of my own indignation into Death, War and Strife in these responses. I hope they bring you at least a little bit of comfort while you're going through so much. <3

Death:

This is… definitely going to be a problem for you.

Death never liked that sorry excuse for a human anyway… Never liked the way their eyes wandered in a crowd, even when they had your hand clasped possessively in theirs. The eldest Nephilim is an observer first, choosing to watch and wait for information to reveal itself, and after just a few days of watching you and your life-partner interact, he can already tell that there’s immeasurable love on your part, but very little on theirs.

Not that Death is any kind of expert, but he’s fairly certain love doesn’t involve draping oneself over another human while you’re still very much in the vicinity, a human who keeps shooting you quick, spiteful glances and grinning as they cling to your partner and bury their nose in their hair.

From his spot in the shadows, Death would watch your happiness wane, then vanish entirely. You’d turn away, and the Horseman had a sneaking suspicion that you were trying to convince yourself you were just being paranoid.

He had to stand there and listen, fingernails digging crescents into his palms as you quietly asked your partner about it later, politely mentioning how you weren’t sure it was appropriate for them to be all over each other like they often are. The subtle flirts that could easily be misconstrued as friendliness, the lingering touches on each other’s arms, the secretive rendezvous they’d tell you nothing about… You’d noticed it all.

Of course you did. They had the gall to be obvious about it. Death noticed too, and it was only because you told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to interfere in your love life that he didn’t pluck the little wretchs' souls from their bodies right then and there.

You were in love. You wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, but the old Horseman wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand by and watch you be treated with so much cruelty.

Your partner’s response to your observations?

‘You’ve been spending too much time around that Horseman. He’s making you paranoid. Are you looking for an excuse to leave me? I bet he wants that, doesn’t he!? Are you two fucking? Is that where this is coming from? Guilty conscience much!?”

If you hadn’t asked Death to take you somewhere outside the city at that very moment, he couldn’t have promised your house would be blood-free by the time it took your partner to finish speaking.

Since then, things have only been escalating. You found out your partner had their ‘friend’ over to stay the night while you visited the Forge Lands. You'd even asked them to join you on the trip, citing that the makers were dying to meet the lover of their favourite human, but of course, they'd brushed off your invitation as if it were an insult.

They’d neglected to tell you of their own plans, of course, and you’d only found out when you came home, crawled into bed with your partner and discovered a pair of shorts under the sheets. A pair that didn’t belong to anyone in your household…

Nothing came of it right away, save for you withdrawing completely, even from Death.

He was just about to stage an intervention when it happened.

It was, of all people, Vulgrim who alerted him. ‘That human of yours didn’t look well,’ he remarked casually when Death passed one of his Serpent Holes near the old Maker Tree, ‘Did you do something? I’m fairly sure they slept all night on that bench…’

It was all Death needed to hear.

Despair careens to a halt outside your door, his hooves kicking up sparks as they skid across the tarmac. Death has already leapt from the saddle by the time the horse stops, and wastes no time storming up the steps towards your front door, only to be given pause when Despair lets out a haunting whinny, drawing his rider to a standstill.

Twisting his mask around, Death squints over his shoulder and finds the steed’s big, skeletal head has pivoted to the right, ears pricked towards a streetlight that keeps its lonely vigil on the path opposite your home.

There, laying on a bench underneath its buzzing glow, Death spots a small figure trying to huddle into their coat for warmth.

Spitting out a curse, the Horseman turns and marches straight for the bench.

You’re startled by an ice-cold hand grabbing you roughly by the shoulder and hauling you over onto your back. Blinking back tears, the blurry image above you focuses until you find yourself peering straight up at the last person you wanted to see tonight. Well… Second to last.

A baltic chill rolls off the Horseman in waves as he glares down at you. “What are you doing out here?” he hisses, beating back the relief that threatens to dribble into his voice, “This is no place for a nap!”

Despite his gruff tone, he’s gentle when he pulls you into an upright position, kneeling down in front of the bench to bring himself to your level.

For several moments, you merely sit there and watch him check you over for injuries, your face a picture of bleakness, damp and sticky with tears. “I found their texts,” is all you offer him in the end.

Death goes very still then, darting his gaze to your face as a low hum starts up in the depths of his chest.

“They’ve been lying to me, Death… This whole time…” Crumpling forwards, you bury your face in your palms, shoulders heaving, “I …. I’m such an idiot! I knew! I knew, I just didn’t want to believe it!”

Almost at once, Death scowls, reaching forwards to slip strong, chilly fingers around your wrists and tug them away from your face. “You are many things,” he tells you sternly, “Hopeful, yes. Optimistic? Certainly. But an idiot? Never. There’s nothing foolish about expecting better from people you trusted.”

“I can’t believe it took me this long to-…” Sniffling, you let your arms go floppy in the Horseman’s grasp, shaking your head. “They’ve been going behind my back for months… They’ve been sending messages to each other… They said they can’t believe I still haven’t figured it out.”

“Do they know you’ve figured it out now?” he presses. If they haven’t yet, they soon will after a livid Reaper comes flying through the front door wielding a scythe…

Giving him a tiny nod, you whisper, “Yeah. Yeah, they know… Kicked me out… Told me they wouldn’t have had to cheat if I wasn’t being so suspicious and clingy…”

If he hadn’t spent so many eons practicing self-control, Death is sure the whole block would be levelled by now, with only you and the Horseman left standing. As it is, he isn’t the young, volatile force he used to be. He is, however, struggling to maintain that carefully concealed composure, for your sake. He knows it’ll only dampen your already dour mood if he were to start collecting souls…

Instead, he closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth of your wrists under his palms. Peeling his eyelids apart again, his gaze bathes you in a warmth of his own, the only kind he can give. Golden, ethereal light spills from his eyes and softly illuminates the tears on your cheeks.

“They… ‘kicked you out?” he puts tentatively, aware of the rough growl tinging his voice, “Of your own home?”

“…Technically it’s their home too.”

At that, the Horseman suddenly scoffs, sharp and cold. “Hardly,” he bites out, “You found it first. You had me check it for demon stragglers. Thane and Valus came and made sure it was structurally sound before you moved in! Your partner wasn’t around for that.”

With a grunt, he heaves himself to his feet, ebony hair swaying in front of his mask as he turns to stalk back across the street in the direction of your door.

In a flurry of limbs, you struggle off the bench, calling after him, “Death! Wait!”

He doesn’t, marching straight up the steps and curling his fist around the handle of your door.

“Oh god, what’re you doing? Stop!”

The Horseman’s shoulders rise and fall with a sardonic chuckle, and to your astonishment, he actually does stop, right on the top step, arm braced to rip your front door off its hinges. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he poses, “I’m taking you home.”

“I’m not-!” Shaky hands rake through your hair. “I don’t want to be in the same house as them right now, okay?”

“Oh, you won’t be,” he replies simply, a dark edge lacing the bass of his voice, “Not for long…”

And before you can stop him, before you can say another word to deter your apocalyptic friend from doing… whatever it is he plans to do, Death squeezes the door handle and wrenches the whole thing out of its frame, dropping it to the ground and sending splintered wood scattering across the steps.

You can’t bring yourself to go inside after him.

Like a wraith, the Horseman disappears into the darkness of your hallway, flitting through the house whilst you hover nervously at the bottom of your porch steps, heart in your throat and your elbows clutched tightly in sweaty palms.

It isn’t long before you hear a familiar voice exclaim, ‘What the Hell!?’ though it’s soon drowned out completely by a low, threatening rumble that sounds more like an earthquake than a Horseman’s vocalisation. The whole house even seems to shiver as the noise rolls through it, rattling the shingles and causing the windowpanes to wobble in their frames.

Your stomach drops like a stone when a shadowy figure emerges from the doorway moments later, holding another, far noisier shape aloft by the front of their hoodie.

“Death!” you blurt in shock, gawping up at your partner as they flail and beat their fists uselessly against the Horseman’s fist keeping them airborne, “Oh my god! Put them down!”

“In a moment,” he snarls, hauling your fellow human down the steps and out onto the street. For a brief moment, their eyes connect with yours, and you’re hardly surprised to see their pupils have shrunk to the size of pinpricks, delirious with terror.

“C-call him off!” they bark, earning a rough jostle from their tormentor, “What the fuck did you tell him!? Make this asshole put me d-ack!”

Letting out an inhuman growl, Death jerks to a halt and hoists your ex-partner higher into the air above his head. His arm doesn’t even quiver from the strain of keeping an entire human aloft.

Slowly, dangerously, he lowers your ex down towards his mask, fist twisted into the hoodie’s fabric with a silent promise to do the same to their neck. “You have no idea what you’ve brought upon yourself,” the Horseman seethes, “You will leave this place. You will leave this city. You will never return here unless you’re prepared to face the consequences.”

“What!?” they choke, giving up on hitting his impervious arm and instead trying to pry his fingers out of their hoodie, “Y-you can’t kick me out of Haven! Who the Hell do you think you are!?”

Hackles raised, Death keeps his head tilted back to glare up at them with wide, piercing eyes. “Who am I? Do you really need a reminder?” he laughs but it’s an ugly sound, dark and filled with the promise of pain, “Perhaps I should tell you exactly how and when you’re going to die, see if that jogs your memory.”

You can only watch on as your partner goes several shades paler than normal, shaking their head and begging Death not to tell them.

Cocking his head to one side, Death just shrugs a massive shoulder and says, “Suit yourself.” And with that, he promptly drops your ex on the road with a sickening ‘thud,’ turning his back on them as they writhe about, clutching at their coccyx and wailing in agony. It was quite the tumble.

As he passes you, Death catches your elbow in his palm, pulling you gently away from the human in the road. “Come on. Inside, now…Before you catch a chill.” Sparing a brief glance at the broken door as he guides you inside, he adds, “I’ll get that fixed…”

The night is still in its early hours, but you hardly feel like you’ll be getting much sleep. So, it’s with a heavy heart that you drag yourself into your bedroom, watched all the way by your ever-vigilant companion.

By his very nature, Death isn’t a comforting Nephilim. He’s grateful you don’t ask anything more than for his presence. You don’t expect him to hold you and stroke your hair while you cry against his chest, nor do you ask him to fill your head with pretty words about how you deserve so much better than your ex.

You don’t need to ask him for that. He does it of his own volition.

Instead, you’re content to sit on your bed with the ancient Horseman occupying the space beside you, an ever-constant presence, watchful and protective.

And if, after crying all of your tears out into the quiet night, you slouch sideways against Death and end up with your cheek pressed into his cool, bulbous shoulder, well… he’s not complaining.

War:

War was riding towards your home when he spots you stumbling in the opposite direction down the dark, empty street with a hand clutched around your mouth and your shoulders jumping with harsh, rapid intakes of breath. He’d been on his way to conduct another ‘welfare check,’ as you’ve recently taken to calling them, where he drops into your home just to make sure you’re safe.

So, to see you staggering outside without any visible protection has him spurring Ruin into a loping canter to pull up alongside you. Swinging a leg from his saddle, War drops heavily to the ground beside you with an almighty clang of steel, causing you to jump a foot in the air, as if you hadn’t even noticed him coming.

You really must be out of it to miss the largest Horseman’s approach.

What are you doing out in the city at night? He’s told you until he’s blue in the face how dangerous it still is for humans to wander around alone in the darkness, where demons could be lurking around every corner, sympathisers of the Destroyer or enemies of the Horsemen.

When you whirl around towards him, throwing your hands away from your mouth in shock, he catches his first glimpse of your face.

All at once, the titanic Nephilim goes from disgruntled to downright frenzied.

You’re crying. You’re alone, in the dark, with tears cascading down your ruddy cheeks, and he doesn’t know why.

His famously short fuse bursts into flames, whittling down to an explosion you can see coming from a mile off. Apoplectic with outrage, War surges forwards, crowding you against the faded brick of an old, tumbledown building as he darts his icy glare over you from head to toe.

You must be hurt, he concludes. Once he’s brought you safely into your home, he’s going hunting…

A wall of warm, unassailable muscle keeps you pinned as the Horseman surrounds you with his huge, encompassing gauntlets, their metal fingers splayed just inches above your arms with barely contained agitation. His anger only grows tenfold when you start to cry even harder, turning your face to try and hide from him.

“Who did this?” he rumbles, his voice rolling through you like distant thunder, warning of the storm to come.

“N-Nobody!” you blurt out in a sob.

The Horseman’s jaw clenches shut, canines poking out through a gap in his curling lips.

You know how much he hates being lied to.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you hang your head, lips pursed to hold back another miserable whimper. Under War’s attentive stare, you finally admit that your partner, the person you thought you’d spent the rest of your life with, has been cheating on you.

After an awkward moment spent explaining that cheating means seeking the affections of another behind your back, War’s lips peel back into a ferocious snarl, and the heat he exudes climbs higher and higher until it feels as though you’re standing in front of a burning furnace. Shyly, you tell him that you’d come home to find a stranger in bed with your partner, and you’d simply turned around and fumbled your way out of the house again, though not before taking an axe from the basement and destroying the fridge you’d just fixed, the television you’d scrounged up from a junkyard of course, the front door.

You were always busy in that house with a hammer and nails, fixing what the Apocalypse had broken. They were… good at telling you what needed to be fixed. Now, they can do it themselves. Ought to teach them some goddamn self-sufficiency now that you’re gone.

After willing his Chaos form not to burst out through his skin at the injustice of it all, with wild-eyes, War twists his hood in the direction of your old home, shoulders rising like the hackles of a beast.

He cannot allow this… this disrespect to go unpunished. The coward who did this will pay for his transgression. War’s scowl darkens. Behind him, Ruin throws his head back and bellows out a guttural whinny, pawing a molten hoof at the road until the tarmac starts to turn soft from the heat.

“War?”

Small, quiet, a far cry from the human he knows so well, you sound wounded though he can’t see any blood. You always told him the people who love you are supposed to protect you, to keep you safe and try to make you happy…

It had brought into question his own feelings on more than one occasion…

War knows how much you love the human you called your partner. He’s seen you sacrifice much for their happiness, not least agreeing to limit your exposure to the Horsemen solely because the Four made them so anxious. In War’s eyes, your loyalty to them was always admirable, even if it came at the cost of your closeness to he and his siblings, but now your partner has betrayed you in a way that’s cut you down to your core, spilling sadness out like a severed limb haemorrhages blood.

First thing’s first though… He has to get you somewhere safe. He knows without asking that you won’t be going back to your home… He’ll have to return in the near future to gather some of your belongings, but for now… Well, he’s been looking for an excuse to move you somewhere more secure. Somewhere off-world, perhaps. Like a fortress that he’s been fitting out to suit a very specific, very human set of needs…

Strife:

When he invites himself into your home in the typical, jocular fashion, only to find that you’ve locked yourself in your bedroom, sobbing under the covers, Strife’s first thought is ‘point me at the idiot I’m gonna murder.’

You don’t tell him what happened, not even when he wrenches your door off its hinges and throws it into the adjoining hallway before hauling his armour through the narrow frame to get to you. You know for a fact that he isn’t bluffing when he snarls, “I’ll kill ‘em. Just tell me who, and they’re dead.”

He’s killed plenty of people for lesser things than the unforgiveable crime of hurting his best and only friend.

His trigger finger twitches on the leather of Redemption’s holster.

It takes several minutes before he manages to coax the truth out of you, and when he hears you choke through a raw throat that your partner has been unfaithful, he’s…

… Conflicted.

First, there’s a surging upsweep of excitement. You’ve been spending less and less time with the Horseman lately, something your partner implemented after complaining that Strife would end up getting you killed someday. The nerve… You’re never safer than when Strife is at your side. Of course, there are times when he brings you to places where danger is present, but he’d die before he let said danger touch one, precious hair on your head. Now though, with your confession that you’ve left that cowardly human for good, Strife realises what that really means.

You’re free. You’re no longer tied to the arm of another, and he can finally have you all to himself!

Then, comes the guilt.

Selfish. How could he possibly be happy that your heart has been broken. Death always said Strife was sicker in the head than the rest of them…

Finally, every other thought he has is promptly buried by an uncontrollable, white-hot rage.

How dare they…

How DARE they!

Quick as a flash, he’s ripping Redmption from its holster and storming towards your bedroom door. His jagged edges are too sharp, too barbed and bristling to try and console you right now… He’d only end up hurting you…

“Strife! Wait!” you choke out, scrambling out of bed after him as soon as you realise his intent, “Stop! Wait, w-wait, wait! Don’t!”

It’s only the feeling of your tiny hands wrapping around his gun arm and clinging to it with feverish desperation that the red mist of rage starts to lift, leaving him huffing and snarling like an injured wolf in the doorway to your room.

“Please…” Your watery voice calls him back from the edge he’s teetering on, and he stiffens when you press your forehead into the swell of his bicep, as if to push your plea directly into his body. “Please. Don’t give me something else to have to cope with.”

It’s the only way to reach him.

Appeal to the trigger-happy Horseman’s soft spot.

You.

He loves causing trouble. But he hates when that trouble circles back to you.

With a deep, resonant exhale, Strife’s shoulders slump and he reluctantly slips Redemption back into its holster.

Then, in one, sweeping motion, he spins on his heel and bends down, scooping you off the floor, never minding the yelp of shock he draws from your chapped lips. You’d been crying for a while before he arrived.

The knowledge sets his temper flaring.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forces the fire in his belly to quell, focusing on the cooling balm of having you held close to him.

With you in arm, he ventures into your living area and plonks himself down in front of the television on your sofa, causing its wooden frame to creak pathetically under his weight. Still bridling, he takes care in nudging a set of controls into your hands.

“Wanna watch somethin’,” he says churlishly, hoping you don’t think his mood is aimed at you, “Somethin’ funny… Cheer me up.”

‘Cheer you up,’ he doesn’t say, because that would invite a level of vulnerability that he isn’t ready to address just yet.

For you, it feels as though you’re sitting in the lap of a ticking time-bomb, though the both of you know that so long as you’re here, he won’t explode.

You’re still crying though, startled by a Horseman sweeping like a hurricane through your house, but at least you’re not alone with your thoughts anymore, nor the doubts or insecurities that keep scuttling like little bugs inside your head. Instead, you can focus on Strife, who eases his hissing temper back bit by bit, tipping you into his chest and curling his chin over you as he glares unseeing at the television screen.

There’ll be Hell to pay, owed by the human who did this to you. Of that he has no doubt. Oh, they’ll suffer, but sadly, he won’t kill them. Anyone who would look elsewhere for love when they had someone like you in their corner is the biggest fool in the Universe, and Strife intends to make sure they know it.

But for as long as you still draw breath, he doesn’t plan on letting another soul try to take you away from him again.

#drabble #writing drabble #sorry Fury I ran out of steam #Darksiders #fluff #angst #relationships #gaslighting #threat #protective Horsemen

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misstycloud · 2 years

Text

New beginning:

Yandere husband x wife reader x platonic son.

TW: bad af parenting

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Moving to a new city can be a difficult experience. A new house, a new school, new friends and unfamiliar surroundings. Especially hard can it be if you're forced to bring undesired company. That was the case for Andrew. The new house was built very recently, with a modern interior and tall windows and a supplemental garden filled with beautiful vegetation. Many would say he was lucky to live in such a house, but he much preferred his old home. He only felt dread when the car rolled up in the driveway, sealing his fate. Andrew sensed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his mother send him a gentle smile.

"We're here, come on let's check out the place."

The boy thanked the heavens for his mother, she was the only one with the ability to cheer him up. What would he do without her? He beamed and stepped out of the vehicle. (Y/n) grabbed her sons' hand and pulled him along to admire the flowerbeds planted in front of the house. There were a considerable amount of carnations, dahlias and marigolds. It reminded the boy about all those times when he and his small family went out to the park, all those years ago. When his father was still alive. He really missed those times, times when his sweet mother wasn't with that asshole. When that thing didn't exist. Before his spiteful mood strayed too far, a familiar voice interrupted them. For Andrew it was like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

"Hey, you coming?" A young man in his early thirties came out of the house. In his arms slept a baby.

"Yes we'll be there shortly. Just have to carry these boxes inside first."

"Want me to help?" Her husband asked and slightly tilted his head to the side.

"No, I'll be fine."

(Y/n) proceeded to unload the boxes from the trunk, and placed them on the ground. Andrew wanted to help her but struggled with the weight of the boxes. He tried renewing his grip, but it did not prevent the cardboard from slipping. The young boy was already annoyed, which didn't alleviate when the person he hated most only added fuel to the fire.

"Need help with that, kid?" His step-father stopped right by his side and glanced down at him. Andrew frowned and spat fiercely at him.

"Why would I need help from the likes of you?"

"Andrew! Apologise to Evan right now." His mother scolded him.

"Nah it’s fine, honey."

"But-"

"Let's just start unpack these boxes and have dinner after. Sounds good?" (Y/n) reluctantly nodded and went into the house.

Evan turned back to face Andrew. It might have been the lighting, but Andrew could have sworn there was malice behind those blue eyes.

Andrews' new room was spacious with a balcony, giving a pleasant view on the garden. Despite it being the bigger than his former room, it did not coach him into liking his current home any more.

Why did they have to move? He liked his old home, old school where all his friends were. Now he's forced to start over and with them still here. Andrew would have been fine with it if it was just him and his mom, alas it seems like you can't have everything.

He laid down on the floor, staring up in the ceiling. He thought about when his father died. He remembers hating hearing his mom cry herself to sleep every night.

Many came to the funeral, all his aunts, uncles, cousins along with family friends. They all cried except him.

He was in shock they say. He wasn't sure himself, all he knew was that he felt numb. Like it wasn't real, but it was. Afterward it was just him and his mom. They went about their lives as normal, although they were much closer than before-if possible.

He's a certified mamas boy, all right.

He couldn't imagine a life without her. Andrew felt so happy when she played with him, cuddled with him, read to him before putting him to sleep every night. Now however, they don't get to do those things as much.

It's that Evan and their new baby. It's always crying. Always hungry.

Always there. Always demanding attention.

How he detested that thing. Because of it his mother never got time for him.

They used to play all the time but now her full concentration was constantly on the baby. Sometimes, he is even tasked with keeping watch on him. It things like 'can you keep an eye on your brother a second, so I can bring in the groceries?'- or - 'Why don't you try holding your little brother for a bit?'.

All of his relatives fawn over his younger half-brother.

Treating him like a miracle. When voicing his complains, the only responses he get is that he should stop acting so childish and that he'll eventually come to adore Eli. His aunt once said to him.

'Better not say these thing to your mommy, or she will get really sad. No mother want her children to hate each other.'

Fearing to hurt his mom, he never told her of his resentment. Andrew blinked and sat up inspecting all the boxes. Some stacked on top of each other, building a tower.

'I better get to work or I'll be done next year.'

A few weeks after they first arrive, the family had settled in nicely. Most had been unpacked but there were some moving boxes sitting somewhere.

The neighbours greeted them the second day in town. They came over with a new baked blueberry pie. Awfully friendly people one might say.

Their former neighbours didn't as much look at them, let alone bring them pastry's. Apparently they were swedes.

In the evenings the sun shone inside the house and brought a lovely golden hue. You could just relax in the glow, close your eyes and drift off. Something Andrew decided to do a lot. He especially needed it after an annoying day in school. The boy always told his mother the academy had great teachers and his classmates were so friendly. He would make so many friends in the future! But the truth was that the school had 'okay' teachers, and only some of his classmates were friendly. Not many wanted to give him time of the day actually, being the new word kid and all. Andrew had friends in his former school but they were few in between.

'Not everyone could keep up with him', he liked to imagine. For he was indeed the smartest boy in his grade and since it made his mother very happy, he did everything to keep the title.

During the afternoons, the sun shine inside covering the entire house in a golden hue. Lazing around in the living room just reading or thinking deeply was wonderful then. Mixed with the afternoon glow, it gave the feeling of peace and calmness. It was one of the finest hours spent his new home.

In the course of one of such afternoons, (Y/n) was currently working away on her laptop. Andrew entered and smiled when spotting his dear mother. In his hands resided a orange ball waiting to be tossed around.

"Hey, mom?"

(Y/n) turned her gaze up to see her oldest son staring expectantly at her. She hummed lovingly in response.

"Yes, honey? What is it?"

"Can you play with me, I've been bored all day?" He pleaded.

"I'm a bit busy right now though..."

the woman hated turning down her child. Especially since he knew very well when to bring out the 'puppy eyes'. She glanced around the room and as she watched her youngest play in the carpet, she got an idea. (Y/n) suggested that he play with Eli to cure his boredom.

"Why don't you play with Eli? Im sure he would love to be with his brother."

On cue, the small child peered up at them. He made happy gurgling noises when he noticed his big brother. After all, he didn't see much of Andrew at home. He was always busy doing homework or playing by himself. Being reminded of the baby, Andrew felt himself withdrawal with repulsion. No way was he going to play with him. Evan had already been enough of a bother, but then suddenly had his mother fallen pregnant and next thing he knew, that thing had plopped out. He recalls when his mother told him the news. She was ecstatic and so was Evan. After their wedding they had already planned to move-one of the reasons being work- and now they had another reason to start fresh.

Somewhere new, somewhere where no one knew them, somewhere with no memories of the past.

Despite wanting nothing more than (Y/n) to be happy, he couldn't find any joy himself in the news. He would have a sibling now? He wouldn't be the only child? He would have someone to play with now, he guessed. But it wasn't really that important since he was more of a studious kid. Andrew's thoughts ran wild, there was one thought that stood out however.

Now he would be forced to share his mom.

Andrew didn't want that! What is she liked the new baby better than him? That wouldn't do. The boy was horribly afraid you'd prefer your baby over him and you'd just toss him aside. Throwing out his stuff and maybe make him live with his grandparents. It was a nightmare he had many times afterwards. The fear of abandonment gnawed at him like a rat.

(Y/n) watched as the light in her son's eyes vanished into nothingness. He obviously wasn't satisfied with her reply. On one hand she really would like to play with Andrew, but on the other hand she also really needed to finish her work. Panicked she tried to come up with another solution and as her knight in shining armour, Evan came to her rescue.

He must have listened to their conversation and decided to step up.

"Hey kid, wanna play with me instead? ”

Andrew deliberately scrutinised Evan with a cold look. He then proceeded to firmly shake his head and say

"No, not you."

"Andrew, don't say that. Evan is a part of this family." His mother's voice sounded. But her son only turned to look her in the eyes with a somewhat sad and anxious expression, which followed by him rushing outside.

"Andrew wait!"

But he was already too far out of reach to hears his mothers pleas. (Y/n) sighed defeatedly and pitched the bridge of her nose. Evan attempted to comfort his wife by saying he'll talk to Andrew and that they'll both come to a mutual understanding about respect, before running out the back door after Andrew.

The mother didn't have a clue to what she did for thing to end up like this. Sure, she had a feeling Andrew wasn't the biggest fan of Evan but she kinda hoped that would disappear over time. Maybe she was a bad mom for dating someone her child didn't have the most loving opinion of, but did she not deserve some happiness as well?

When Andrew's father died, she was heartbroken. Who wouldn't be when the love of your life and father of your child suddenly passes away? When she finally decided to get out there and start dating again, she noticed her dates would abruptly draw back. Like they would meet up and then her date just didn't appear interested anymore, even though they seemed to click.

Maybe the bearings of already having a child just wasn't appealing? Because when she introcued Andrew to them, was around the same time when they messaged they'd like to stop pursuing the relationship. She could understand how they felt though. So she didn't blame them for anything. She was just sad that's all. Sad that she might never find that happiness again. Until she met him.

Evan was the only one who decided to stay. Despite her son's snarky comments and glares from the opposite side of the table. (Y/n) felt forever grateful for all the things he did for her. For loving her so dearly. For never forgetting a special day, like birthdays and anniversaries. For making her so incredibly happy while going down on one knee. As well as giving her a second beautiful son who she'd love with all her heart.

Speaking of, that little bundle of joy stretched his arms out trying to reach for his mother. (Y/n) chuckled and went to pick him up and held him fondly while smothering his forehead with kisses.

"You're my little angel, Eli."

Under a tree sat a young boy sulking by himself. He was upset, very upset. His mother chose someone else over him. Okay, he knew it wasn't really like that but it still felt like it. She had chosen a scum over him. Her own son! He didn't deserve the love his mom gave. Not when the one who actually deserved it was Andrew.

He had been successful in preventing a relationship every time his mother had met someone. Every time! But not Evan. He didn't let Andrew scare him in the slightest. Not his death glares. Not his degrading comments. Not even the mean pranks. In fact, Evan didn't as much as flinch when he found a dead rat in his shoe, nor when he found out the eggs Andrew so happily made him were way outdated. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. That wasn't the only thing about him.

Evan was also...weird. Very weird.

Before they moved the their new home, Andrew would sometimes hear strange noise outside at night. It was when Evan slept over at their house. He basically lived there, even though he had his own apartment. So when the boy woke up during those nights and listened to where the sound came from, he took a look outside.

There in the garden had he spotted a tall silhouette. Andrew had quickly backed away from the window when the shadow had looked up towards his window. He was lucky he tought, because it appeared that the figure did not see him. The boy had then continued to observe the shadow. It seemed like it was digging. But why was a stranger digging in his backyard in the middle of the night? Imagine his surprise when he saw the moon's shine lit up a portion of the strangers face. It was only for a second, and he didn't know the person well at all. But there was no mistake. The 'stranger' in his backyard was none other than Evan. You also can't forget the strange sounds coming from the basement. Evan was the only one who went down there, he allegedly used it as his study. His mother wouldn't know anything since she didn't have a reason to go down there and if she needed something Evan would be the first to volunteer.

Lost in thought he almost didn't notice that said person was currently approaching him. Andrew scowled at his step-father and averted his sights to the grass beneath him. A pair of black shoes soon replaced his vision.

"Hey, Andrew." Evan began.

"......."

"I know that we might not get along well but can you at least try? For you mom?" The man asked in a hopeful tone but received no answer. He prepared to repeat himself again, but was surprised at the high pitched voice that suddenly murmured something imperceptible.

"I can't hear you, what did you say?"

Evan leaned in closer with the intention of catching the boy's muffled words.

"Fuck you.." Andrew glared at him.

The man's eyes widened. He wouldn't have guessed this is what the boy was trying to say. Nasty criticism was nothing new from Andrew. But never had he sworn at him. Only things like; where he came from and what he ate to his fashion choice. Evan's expression converted into a perilous smile.

"That's not nice little Andy." He said.

"Don't call me that!" The lad swung his scrawny arm at the older man, but it was easily caught in a tight grip. Andrew froze as he stared into two malicious orbs.

"I will call you whatever I want because I'm the adult here. Listen; I don't like you and I know you don't like me either, but you will do as I say. Because if you don't- well we already have a replacement for you." The man smirked while he watched as Andrew's face distort.

"I also don't want (Y/n) to be unhappy. She wants this new life to go well and your little antics keeps making her sad, and I doubt you want to cause your mother pain. So you will stop your pathetic tantrums and be a good boy from now on, okay?"

Evan released his grip on Andrew's arm and stood up. He began waking back towards the house, but not before turning around and saying.

"Be nice to your daddy from now on."

Andrew caressed his sore arm and winced. He could already feel a bruise forming. Guess he would have to borrow some makeup from mom's bag to cover it up. Looking through the window he could clearly see his mother and step-father conversing happily; like the previous three minutes didn't happen.

Just like he said.

Weird

God how he hated that little brat! If he could just get rid of him, then everything would be alright. It would be absolutely perfect with only the three of them as a family.

Evan Carter was no ordinary man. He can't even begin to count how many immoral acts he's committed. Assault, robbery, blackmail, murder.

But that was not all. He realised from a young age that he was different. Many times did he witness the emotions of people around him, the good ones and the negative ones. But not a single emotion could he relate to.

When he tripped and fell as a young boy, he simply stood up again, shedding no tears.

When his middle school soccer team won his towns annual sports tournament, Evan did not understand the length of his teammates joy.

Don't get him wrong he can feel things, although his feeling weren't as prominent or strong like others. Further, when he was in high school and all the other kids started to focus on finding partners, the boy could care less about it. It continued that way even when he wasn’t a young boy anymore and time had carried him into the life of adulthood.

Until he met her.

(Y/n) was his light. They’d met three years ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. She had been so beautiful that night. With her rosy cheeks and enchanting eyes. She had him trapped the moment they shook hands. Evan wanted to punch himself for thinking he could make it alone in this world. Before her, the domestic lifestyle appeared pointless; Now it was all he wished for.

The day they of their wedding was the best day of his life. Everything went splendidly and the decision to move to a new city had just been finalised. Seeing his wife pregnant with his child made him so happy. Evan loved his wife and son so, so, so much!

Their new life would be amazing if it wasn't for one time detail. His wife's son from her previous relationship.

How awful that brat was.

Always insulting him and being rude, even though he hadn't done anything to deserve it. It was quite obvious he was trying to scare him away. But Evan was not like those other shallow men Andrew had succeeded in frightening. No, he was there to stay.

Evan knew his temper would soon hit breaking point. Still, he didn't desire to kill the boy. Not yet at least. He saw how much (Y/n) loved him and knew how heartbroken she would be if he died. She was unknowingly the only reason he was still alive.

But perhaps in the future, who knows? A small accident may occur.

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