SnK x Reader One Shots

Paint Them Red [Part 1]

Gender Neutral!Reader X Main Cast

Part 1: My Safe Place

•••

The little one giggled, looking at their work. The once-white paper was splattered with red paint. A squiggly outline vaguely looked like a distorted body with the limbs in the wrong directions.

They held up their childish masterpiece, showing it to their guardian. "Look what I did, miss!"

The woman's face immediately turned to that of worry, but she tried to hide it with a forced smile. "What is this about, [y/n]?"

They grinned, teeth white but one tooth missing. "I imagined how that bully would look like if one of the bad guys got him. He's a real meany, so he deserves to be painted red!"

The woman brought [y/n] to her lap and asked, "Why do you think he deserves to be painted red?"

"He hit me until my tooth fell out. See!" they pointed at the empty spot, tongue pressed against there to make a point.

"But, dear [y/n]..."

"Yes, miss?"

"Even if he's a big bad bully, you shouldn't wish him to be painted red. Eventually, he will get what he deserves. It's not up to you to decide."

"But what if fate doesn't do anything?"

"Fate will do something that he deserves very much."

The child became silent. They seemed unsure of their guardian's words, but decided to accept it for now. They looked at their artwork, tracing the red.

~*~

"There's an old tradition, a game we all can play. We start by getting liquored up, and sharpening our blades! You take a shot of whisky, you take your knife and pray! And you spread apart your fingers, and this is what you say!" [y/n] sang to themself, twisting a pencil with their fingers.

Their guardian, Miss Amanda, had taken away all their knives, and forbade them from entering the kitchen. They were given plastic cutlery at eating time, leaving no chance for [y/n] to play with sharp items.

"Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes—"

"Silence, [y/n]!"

[y/n] turned around to see Miss Amanda at their door. "What's wrong, miss?"

"I want you to stop singing this wretched song at once! You're scaring the other children!"

Two children — both around the age of six — clutched to Miss Amanda's apron, a fearful look in their eyes.

"Alright, miss..." [y/n] turned back to their stack of papers, almost as if they were not scolded earlier. A smile crept to their lips, the pencil lead breaking under pressure as it was pressed against the poor paper.

~*~

Nobody wanted to celebrate [y/n]'s birthday with them. Of course, they were one of the solitary children, combined with their disturbing personality.

The orphanage was low on funds, and had already enough trouble feeding every child. That was why [y/n] was never sent to a psychiatrist. But it seemed to [y/n] that the adults were more than happy when they turned 18.

Forced to pack up, [y/n] now had to live a life outside the orphanage that had been their home since they were a small child.