"I won." You smirked and closed the book. "What would I get as a reward?" You purred silently looking at him closely. He smiled and opened his arms.
"C'mere (Nickname)." You willingly cuddled up to him, burying your face in his chest. God he was warm and so comfortable. "Happy?"
"You have no idea." You hummed hugging him tightly. "God you're a wonderful bed Peter. I'm gonna keep you." He chuckled slightly as you groaned. "Don't you dare move! I just got com
No answer came.
(Name) groaned and whipped out her cell phone. Her thumbs flew all over the keyboard. Once she was satisfied with her message to her father, the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt, she pressed send.
‘Papa, there is a huge moth in the bathroom! Please kill it. ~(Initials)’
(Name) curled up on her bed, lifting her feet up off the floor so nothing under her bed could grab her ankle and yank her under. She heard an odd creaking sound and out of instinct she squeaked and threw her comforter over her head and tried to control her rapid breathing.
She heard a ping come from her cellular device. She snatched it up quickly and opened the most recent text message. It was from her Papa.
She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was probably texting her to tell her he killed the moth. But that is not what she read.
‘Papa is dead.
Today was another world meeting. You all had gotten up bright and early to eat breakfast and head out. You sat at the table with Romano while Italy cooked you guys pasta.
Suddenly, you felt a incredible pain in your chest. Your eyes watered as it spread throughout your body.
Germany burst through the front door and shouted "Venice is under attack!" You fell to the floor crying in pain. Your brothers rushed over to you and tried to calm you down. By now you were screaming in pain.
"What do we do?!" shouted italy, trying to cradle your suffering form.
"I believe ve have to wait it out," said Germany. "zhe enemy is still attacking. My men are already zhere so it vill be over soon."
You still sat there. Sweating and panting from the pain. It felt as though your insides were being ripped out.
''Hi hungry, I'm dad''
Your head whipped around to face the stoic faced man, who was casually sipping from his tea cup in his usually odd style acting as if he hadn't said a word. ''Dad, I'm serious''
''I thought your name was hungry''
''Are you kidding me?'' Without even missing a beat he turns to face you looking directly into your eyes, ''No, I'm dad...''
You didn't know whenever or not you wanted to scream, cry, laugh or cringe. Your father was none other than the famous Levi Ackerman a man that could strike the fear into any man, a icy glare that could cause the sun to freeze and a overall asshole; A man that barely even cracks a smile was sat, drinking tea and making dad jokes. It had been like this for days now, he would choose the perfect moment and execute his jokes perfectly no matter if it was a text, verbal and even ov