So my Reiner x reader fanfic (a daybreak between us) on ao3 and tumbler officially has its first chapter (or prologue) posted and Iâm on holiday so I canât write another 4-7k chapter but Iâve also got so many ideas that I want to get to so hereâs a vote
Itâs recommended that you read the prologue before voting so you understand whatâs happening / the backstory
Next chapter
Y/n trying to find the warrior kids after hearing the walls destruction (2-3k)
A short chapter about why y/n decides to be a scout
Other (please comment ideas)
Jump straight into cadet years with a brief mention of why sheâs a cadet
Taking place 2 days before the fall of wall Maria / when Y/N meets the warriors for the first time. (Ages 14-15)
4.5k words
Warnings: minor mention of death
âŹïž
Continue to read â€ïž
It was only two days before the worst day of humanity. Two days left to believe in hope and the safety of the human race in the eyes of those who lived in the walls. Two days before even someone so familiar with the existence of larger than average creatures known as titans became a propagandist of fear, not fear for her life but rather fear for the idea that something so dangerous, so large, soâŠhorrifyingâŠcould exist without having been discovered until it was far too late. And only two days prior to humanity's darkest day she had met him.
The forest was louder than normal; no, it wasnât loud, it was quiet. Those had always been some of the worst days, the air was clear of noise with nothing but the blow of trees and the occasional scatter of animals and yet the feeling of a quiet peace only brought the feeling of danger and risk. Growing up in the forest outside the wall meant you were many things from a young age, independent, reliant, quiet etc. but most importantly you knew the signs you knew when it was best to either climb up a tree or to hide within a house, you knew which titans you could defend yourself against and who to run from, you knew the safest paths that no Wall-folk would ever understand. You and your parents were survivors, the perfect example of what life could look like if people learnt to live without as much cation as the Wall-folk. A paradise in truth. And so, when the silence hits for the first time in months you know that something big must be coming, abnormal perhaps? Maybe it was scouts scaring titans off?
But for whatever reason this silence would have no power over you as you trudge through your morning chores with caution picking strawberries with calloused hands placing the ripe ones in an old hand-woven basket that had seen much better days. You throw it over your shoulder after closing its lid as you begin the hike down the mountainous landscape. Your legs burned as you pushed yourself down the steep mountain grabbing onto rocks and branches that were placed along the side of the hand-crafted dirt path that would lead to the lake just down south from the cabin you learned to call home. It was truly a beautiful place, the walk never ceased to amaze you, tall dark oak trees that lined the exterior of your path provided cool weather and shade but the area that wasnât covered with trees as tall as titans? Well, that was a sight gifted from the havens above, especially in the winter as the sun went down over a snow-covered land.
The image always reminded you of the story your father would tell you as you fell to sleep.
âWhen the world was still new and the earth was clear of titans and monsters alike there lived a boy and a girl, who could not be more different, one was kind, warm and like the sun while the other was cold, distant and had a habit of hiding his true feelings from everyone, even those he cared for most. The sun promised to never leave the moon, and promised that they would be together forever. And yet there were secrets that the moon refused to tell the sun under the fear that she would leave him, despite her promise. Though this plan backfired as he reclused himself. The sun simply couldnât handle the despair and so she felt that she must leave. When the moon found out he chased after her for day and night, and so we have sun rise and sun set, the lovers both chasing and running because of secrets they donât dare to confess.â
It was a simple story sure, but it taught you something that you would hold dearly to your heart and listen to for the many years ahead of you in your journey, do not keep secrets from those you deem to love, for it will inevitably destroy you both.
By the time you made it to the bottom of the mountain the sun had fully risen in the bright, almost clear blue sky, guiding your path as the weight of the basket was heavy on your back. Animals were silent at this time of morning, the only thing audible was the chirps from birds that fly above you.
It was easier to hear.
The sloping terrain that borders the river is steel as its sloping shores are muddied with rain from the previous week. Weeping willow tree branches dip into the waters edge and turtles float within your eyesight.
You rest the basket now rest beside you as you take the strainer from the basket and put handfuls of strawberries, blueberries and raspberries into the device before placing it in the water mindfully washing them of all the dirt and grime that had previously been on them.
It was always peaceful, whether it was loud or quiet. The habits and routines that you had been raised into brought a strong sense of peace and familiarity. But even the simple act of cleaning the berries while humming a simple tune brought you joy and calmness, which was always needed in such a desperate and dangerous world. Though such simple acts would one day become a luxury, even for you.
The danger wasnât danger at first; it was a simple snap of a twig, a twig not a branch or tree, something small, it wasnât followed by vibrations in the earth and groans from titans. It was small, not small as in five meter titan short but ratherâŠhuman?
Snap
Another twig snapped followed by the sound of crunching leaves. And then voices.
âHurry up Reiner we need to be quicker or elseââ a young boy's voice rings through the forest before they come into view.
The group of four children go silent when they see you. You're on your knees holding a handful of assorted berries looking up at them with widened eyes.
âWhy are you out here alone?â Is the first thing you say to them, itâs not normal to see people, other than the occasional scout (though they never see you) out this far, especially if it seems they are walking towards the wall.
âWhat are you doing out hereâ a stern looking blond girl questions as she steps into a position as if ready to fight.
âI live out hereâ you toss the clean berries into an almost empty basket on your left and pick up another handful from the dirty basket preparing to clean again.
âArnt you supposed to be in the walls?â A rather tall boy asks.
âHumans are supposed to be everywhere, there is no one place for people to live, and therefore no reason I should live within the confinements of the wallsâ you reply as you strain water from the berries. âBut what of you? If you live out here then I would think Iâd have met you by nowâ
âWeâre from Rosen, traveling with our parents,â the awkward tall boy replies.
âNever heard of itâ
âIt's a rather small place, itâs uh in wall Maria, rather small placeâ a blond boy adds.
You stare at them observing their movements before finally huffing, after all what did you know about the walls? Youâd only seen them from a distance after all.
âYou best get going, the afternoon is dangerous" you pick up the baskets and put them over your shoulders once again.
âW-why?â The blond one asks.
âTitans, the ones around these parts are most active around the afternoon, night as well but itâs always worse around 1 oâclockâ the group is quiet at first; worried if anything. You sigh again this time pointing to the small mountain. âMy house is a half hour hike from here, if you hurry with me then you can stay the day and leave tomorrow morningâ you offer.
The girl from before while still stiff and ready to fight is staring you down as if observing whether you're safe to trust or not.
âIf you donât want to stay then I can help you find your way back to your parentsâ
âOur parents are dead, a titan got themâ a short brunette boy with dark brown eyes studying me. You donât know what to say to that, losing a parent, especially both, must be one of the hardest things a person can suffer through. And so you motion for them to follow as you begin walking the path back to the base of the mountain.
âYou're free to follow if you choose to."
They follow.
Itâs silent for a while, at least until you reach the mountain's base to begin the hike back up.
âYour names?â
âWhat?â The blond boy says confusion written in his voice.
âOur names idiotâ the blond girl slaps him on the back of the head lightly.
âOh right, Iâm Reinerâ
âBertholdtâ
âAnnieâ
âMarcelâ
âAnd you?â Reiner asks.
âY/n l/nâ
The majority of the hike is quiet as they group of strangers observe the forestry scenery with awe.
âItâs prettier when it snowsâ you mutter as you take a rest on a nearby branch.
âHey hey whyâd we stop? I thought the titans came out around midday!â Marcel whisper yells.
âOh relax why wonât you, weâll see a titan coming from here; or hear itâ you open one of the baskets lids. âPlus we have a good two hours before the titans get really hungry. And weâre gonna be worse if we donât eat before continuingâ you throw them a few berries and open a small satchel grabbing a half loaf of bread snapping it into four quarters and passing them around the group as they climb up the tree branch to sit beside you.
âYou're not going to have any?â Marcel asked motioning to the bread in his hand.
âIâll donât need to eat muchâ you shrug âyou guys are clearly older than me and therefore probably need to eat moreâ you state as you begin to eat.
âYou're awfully nice to us, to strangers, donât you think?â Annie says as she stares down at the bread examining it before taking a bite.
âYeah you shouldnât be so trusting of strangersâ Reiner says as he shoves the bread in his mouth greedily. His back is leaning against the base of the tree as his brown eyes scan over you with something you couldnât quite describe. Arguably he was beautiful. âYou should be more cautious, we could easily defeat you if neededâ.
âAnd youâd end up being titan food, itâs clear you're not from around here so I doubt youâd survive much longerâ you reason.
âW-we are from here!â Both Reiner and Bertholdt speak in unison, seeming shocked.
âYou're from the walls aren't you? So your bit from hereâ
âO-oh right yeah I guess in that case we aren't from hereâ Reiner rubs the back of his neck seeming more relaxed at the clear up.
A few minutes pass by until you jump from the branch and motion for them to follow suit as you continue the last mile or so of your walk.
The sun has reached its highest point by the time you arrive home, your parents wait outside their faces light up as they see you, waving to you.
âWho are these young kids?â your father asks his green eyes scanning the group of unusual looking children with a questioning gaze. âAnd where are their parents? Kids shouldn't be wondering around on their own, especially in titan territory"
You move yourself to the side urging the group of older kids to step forward âthis is Reinerâ you point to Reiner. âBertholdtâ you point out the tall black haired boy âAnnieâ you point out the beautiful but cold blond girl âand Marcelâ you point to the boy who seemed almost like the leader of the group. You don't answer the second half of the question out of respect for their privacy.
âThey look like theyâve been walking for daysâ your father mutters.
âOnly half a dayâ Bertholdt replies absentmindedly. Half a day and they look thisâŠshaken? If you had guessed how long they had been walking you would say it was at least a week.
âLots of running from titans then?â your father laughs trying to brighten the mood. He was far too kind. âYou kids from the walls?â
âYes sirâ Marcel steps in his head held high. âWall Maria
âWellâŠhow about you kids come inside and explore a bit?â your mother asks as she gently points to the door to your small but humble home.
The group nods as they hesitantly step inside. You go to follow before your mother practically pulls you by the collar of your shirt.
âNow young lady, whatâs with the strangers? Didnât we teach you stranger danger?â Your mother mutters, forcing you to face her with a sheepish look. It sounded like more of a joke though she still held a serious tone.
âThey were wandering around on their own, rather loudly. If I do say so myself, I was quite surprised that they hadn't been eaten yet.â
âSo you brought the wall-folk back to our house when we have no idea of their intent or if they will report us?â Your dad clarifies with you. âYou do realise that if they rat us out, whether it be to scouts or to their other friends from the walls we could beat danger?â
âWith all due respect papa but I donât think a group of tweens, who frankly don't even understand the danger of titans yet, are going to do much damage, plus for wallfolk they donât seem to know all that much about the interior, heck even I know more then them and Iâve never beenâ you argue back, though not loud enough for the others older kids inside to hear. âYou're the ones who raised me to help when I could, so why is it now that I'm bothering to help someone, especially children, that it's a problem?â
âThere are so many reasons why this could be dangerous for us! Didn't you even think about the effects this could have if they let this slip?...and donât get me started on the fact that their parents or relatives are probably worried sick! If you disappeared weâd be worried but at least we know you know titan territory! They don't!"
âLove perhaps you should lower your voice, we don't want to scare the poor kids ofâŠand Y/N is right, it would be cruel to leave them alone without anything to defend themselves from the titans, especially as their starting to get all moody this time of day, it's simply not safe for them.â your mother gives you a reassuring but worried smile as she talks with your father.
âWe don't know the intent of these kids Adaâ your father mutters out staring at your mother âif theyâŠif the king finds out that there are people who live outside the walls who knows what will happen to us, let alone Y/Nâ your fathers clutching the sides of his shirt now balling his first together âPeople living outside that wallsâŠits known that if they are discovered then theyâŠdisapear. We can't let that happen AdaâŠI can't lose my darling girls!â
You swallow hard as guilt fills you from the inside out, were you really putting them at risk by wanting to help those wandering kids? Whilst you may never admit it you were stupid you trusted strangers, wall-folk, and led them straight to your house, what if they truly were going to report you? You were just so happy to see kids around your age for once in your life, was this going to be the end? Was this a danger that you couldn't predict? The hairs on your arms pricked up as guilt and fear washed over you, your face contorting into worry and panic. Your father was rightâŠthere are too many what ifs in this scenario for it to be a sensible decision, this isn't how they raised you!
âWell it's far too late to just send them off, they're already here after all, Gabriel, so it's best that we make them feel welcomed and then send them on their way tomorrow morning.â your mother sighs as she rests her hands comfortingly over your fathers shoulder. âY/N, how about you go and give them a tour and get lunch ready, so your father and I can have a talk?â
You don't bother to reply, just stare at the ground like a kicked puppy and waddle into the house with a solemn expression.
The smell of warm bread baking and herbs that had been left to hang upside down to dry hit you almost immediately as you walk into your home. The sun shines through the multicolored stain class windows of your wood cabin, carpets that your mother had brought with her when moving from the walls lined the floors of the loungeroom where there were couches your father had crafted from leather and animal skin with a wooden table that hand books that you had written and drawn (though they might as well be illiterate with how bad your hand writing was) stacked in the middle like a proud trophy. The kitchen bench had jars upon jars of handgrown herbs (that had already dried) ready for dinner tonight or for disinfecting any scratches or cuts you might have gained on the hike.
You place the baskets down and open the one that's now filled with cleaned berries ready to pack them away so they are ready for the next few weeks. You sit down on a small wooden stool as you grab the empty jars and start filling them with berries while your mind zones out.
âWe can't stay hereâ you hear a hushed whisper, the others seem not to have noticed your presence yet. âIts a betrayal to our mission, to our cause, by staying in aââ its Reiner's voice who is cut of as someone (probably Annie) shoves him into seemingly Bertholdt.
âHush down now! You don't need to yell so loudâ Annie whispers as she gets the group to continue exploring, seeming not to notice you sitting in the kitchen corner.
âDo you think there are others living outside the walls?â Reiner asks as he pulls himself off Bertholdt.
âProbably not, or not any more at leastâ Bertholdt replies simply.
âNot anymore?â Reiner questions as he turns to look at Annie.
âdidnât you hear her parents?â Marcel lightly slaps Reiner on the back of the head âthey said that every time the king finds out that there are people living beyond the walls they disappearâ his voice is low and controlled as he whispers to Reiner.
âBloody island devils, even their king opposes themâ Reiner mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Island devils?
Your parents walking in disturbs the strange conversation as the grand oak door opens with a slam, your father is practically sweating through his clothing though he has a smile plastered to his face as he adjusts his glasses. Your mother follows suit with a warm smile and a small picnic basket of ingredients.
The group stops their conversation completely staring at your parents who place the basket on the kitchen table and start unpacking it. Then at you who they now realise had been sitting and staring at them for however long. They share glances between each other. Was it worry, fear, determination? You couldn't quite tell.
âWell since we have guests, we figured we might make some fresh home cooked mealsâ your mother offers a warm smile to the kids holding up some of the ingredients.
âWhat are we making Mrs?â Marcel asks with a smile, contrasting his earlier tone.
âWell how about some omelettes?I know it's a morning food but they always taste so goodâ your mother motions for them to come closer as your father begins grabbing small glass bowls so everyone could have one.
Reiner and Annie look at your parents suspiciously, what were they thinking? While the others quickly go up to the counter clearly hungry from whatever long walk they've been doing the past few days.
And so the cooking begins, it starts with you standing over Reiner looking down at what he's doing, it's obvious he hasn't made an omelette before. Or anything egg related for that matter.
âYou have to crack it like thisâ you motion him over to look at your glass bowl where you pick up an egg and gently crack it against the bowl's corners. âSee no shards of eggâ.
âWell what if I prefer the taste of egg shells?â Reiner huffs as Marcel tries to hide his laughter behind them. Everything seemed to get lighter, the emotions, the conversations, the guilt for bringing them, it all got lighter as they cooked and talked.
âWell then you're a little weirdâ you roll your eyes as you take another one of your eggs to crack it into the bowl. âBut then again we're all a little weirdâ.
âAll a little weird?â Bertholdt asks confusion knit between his eyebrows.
âWell yeah, we're all unique and different in our own ways, ways that make us special and make us who we are, weirds good you knowâ you explain.
âI guess you're right,â Annie murmurs. She had already finished the first step as she wasn't side tracked with critiquing Reiner's poor cooking skills.
âAlright now that we have the eggs doneâ you side eye Reiners bowl where you can see at least three egg fragments. âRight so now we add the tomatoes and garlic, tomatoes are optional thoughâ.
âDo you like tomatoes, Y/N?â Marcel asks absentmindedly as he pours his ingredients in.
âNot particularlyâ you reply looking over to see Reiner who had poorly cut his tomato and garlic to the point it looked like the size of a Big toe. You were about to tell him to cut it up more before he chucked them in, you were too late. You wince, god not even the omelette god could save this disastrer.
And so you cut your tomato up into small portioned cubes after adding the garlic.
âI thought you said you didn't like tomatoes?" Bertholdt looks at you confused.
âI don't but it's good to eat healthierâ in reality you knew that one way or another the blond boy's lunch was going to be less than pleasant even in the early stages.
âNext up herbsâ you point to the herb shelf. âHelp yourselvesâ.
And so they do. For the most of this part you spend time collecting the ones you personally enjoy most (mint and chives). Which was a mistake as you see Reiner pouring way too much rosemary and mint. Which is already a horrible combination, unless you like the taste of toothpaste, let alone almost a quarter of the jar. Oh my omelette gods. The rest of the group look over to stare at Reiner with you. They are all horrified.
âWhy are you adding so much?...â Marcel asks, trying to decide whether to laugh or look with horror.
âI feel like it needs more seasoningâ he says simply as if the amount of herbs (and the combination) he added to ONE omelette was normal.
Oh good omelette gods, save this poor child from his own cooking âskillsâ.
The rest of the process goes smoothly until it comes up to Reiner's turn to fry his omelette.
It burns and the chunks of garlic and tomato protrude the base of the omelette as the smell of something similar to toothpaste, or burnt toothpaste? Fills the room.
The group sit down on the floor with omelets in hand except for Reiner who stares at the table with an almost kicked puppy expression, though he tries to find it behind a stern facade.
You move from your position next to Marcel to tap the blonde's shoulder. He looks up with sulky eyes until he sees you handing him half of your torn omelette. He looks grateful as he quickly swoops it out of your hand.
âEven Y/Nâs nicer than you lot and we just met her!â he huffs as he starts eating the omelette. Everyone laughs in unison. âYou know you're really nice for aââ there's a brief pause as he stumbles over his words âfor someone who was raised outside the walls.â Reiner mummers. The room goes quiet, a heavy silence filling the empty spaces where words aren't spoken.
âWhy wouldn't I be nice? Were all human after allâ you ask your brows furrowed.
âI-its just that back in my home village we were taught that while impossible to survive outside the walls, anyone that in theory could would have to be barbaric and a ruthless killer to even survive a week, that they'd kill anything or anyone in their sightâ he pauses considering his words as he puts down the food âwell that and some people would sayâŠother things.â
âLike what?â
âReinerâ Bertholdt warns
âThat those outside the wall were devils, or at least descendants of the devil himselfâ
âWell that's a rather useless outlook in life.â you finish your lunch. âThink of it like this, what use do I personally get from hating on people I've never met? It would side track me and ruin my focus on my jobs, im sure in some cases it could be used as motivation, for example humanities hate for titans, due to viewing them as a dangerâ you point to Reiner âbut say you hate titans so much that you go out of your way to kill them all and consider them vermin or devils then you truly are no better for the merciless slaughter, and it's even more applicable to people due to our consciousness. Plus blind hatred, or even determination, can lead to you being blind in every other area with it taking over your mind, soul and lifeâ.
âY-you wouldn't know anything about thatâ Reiner balls his fist while looking away from you. âYou wouldn't know the first thing about determination, it's needed, it's needed to get the job done.â
âThat mindset will set you up for a trap later in life Reinerâ
âHow would you know anything, you're just a kidâ Reiner mutters.
âAnd yet so are youâ
The truth was while Reiner was only 14 at the time of this he was more of an adult then any child should be, they all were, every last one in that group.
The rest of the afternoon is quiet, quiet in a way you can't quite describe in a way other than uncomfortable.
So as for my Reiner x reader fanfiction for anyone interested I have got the main premise/ arcs planned out with themes and have the first half of chapter one almost complete, when this comes out (hopefully this week or early next week) please keep in mind these warnings as the story will progress (mostly 20+ chapters in)
.depression
.hallucinations
.refusal to eat or take care of basic needs due to grief.
.angst
.starvation
.propaganda
. Isolation
. Dissociation
.projection
Note these will be written in the future around arc 4 which is about 25-40 chapters in. Other then arc 4+ the previous acts will be mostly âfluffâ with a small tinge of angst while mostly building on the romantic relationship between the two â€ïž
Honestly I just started writing this fic becuse I need Y/N to be majorly depressed after finding out about Reiners betrayal đ„°
So l was thinking of writing a fanfiction (hopefully a long fic of Reiner x reader with the main premise being...
Before the fall of wall Maria Reiner and the others (kids at the time) run into Y/n who lives outside of the walls with her parents. She (being exited to meet other kids since she almost never gets to meet them) persuades them to stay the night before continuing to the walls. By then they have not lost Marcel.
A few days after they left wall Maria falls, reader assumes their dead (though hopes their not)
Quite a lot happens afterwards but she inevitably joins the cadets after being taken in by the scouts (parents died a few months after the attack).
The next few chapters (when she joins the cadets) are tracing and growing closer with Reiner and the others, she has a faint memory but can't quite tell wether they people she's talking to now are the kids from years ago.
This is just the begging premise of the story and I'm hoping to get it to 30-70 chapters (I currently have 30 planned, which will take place over season 1 and 2)
after price kills shepherd, he has a finite window of time to grab his things and say goodbye to his wife.
cw: angst
You hear the front door swing open and hit the wall behind it and your first thought is heâs early.
Youâre at the stove, wooden spoon in your hand with the skillet throwing up steam, onions gone soft and golden at the edges, music murmuring from the speaker on the windowsill.
The word âearlyâ is halfway up out of your throat, light, a little teasing, but it dies there when the sound coming from down the hall isnât the sound of a man home for the night. Thereâs no pause to toe his boots off, no keys dropping in the bowl. Just the stairs taken too fast, two at a time, the whole house shivering under the weight of him going up.
Your hand finds the gas dial and turns the flame down. You open up your ears, straining to listen. Then youâre moving, following the sound of him up into the dark of the second landing.
The bedroom doorâs open, and inside, Johnâs just a blur of motion against the moonlight behind him. The wardrobeâs flung wide open, the duffle is out â the one that lives at the back of the closet behind the winter coats, the one you were trained long ago not to touch nor ask about â and now itâs unzipped, open on the bed. His hands are working through the canvas with a fervor that turns your blood cold before heâs said a single word.
He hasnât looked up, heâs too focused. And thereâs something practiced and deeply troubling about the speed of which his hands are movings â it tells you more than his face even would.
âJohn?â you try, his back is to you now.
âHey,â he says, a drawer slides open, he rifles through it, turns around, and whatever he took from the drawer disappears into his bag. âListen to me a minute.â
âWhatâs happening? Wh- whatâre you doing?â
You take a tentative step toward the bed.
âI have to go,â he says flat, pared down, slotted neatly into the rhythm of his packing. âRight now. Tonight.â
âGo where? Youâve only just got back. Is it aâ,â
âItâs not work,â he cuts in roughly, then shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut.
His hands go still over the bag and he turns his head and finally, finally looks at you, blue eyes hooking under your ribs. He takes a steadying inhale through his parted lips, then out his flaring nostrils.
âItâs⊠itâs not a job, dove.â
You feel so behind him in this, like youâre still standing in the warm kitchen five minutes ago, still on the version of tonight where dinnerâs almost ready. You can feel a tickle of dread crawling up the back of your neck.
Youâve never seen him like this.
Heâs never like this â frantic.
âThen what is it, Jâ,â
âShepherdâs dead,â he spills. He says it the way youâd pluck a splinter from a soft palm, all at once because slow is worse. âIt was me, I did it. Thereâll be people cominâ here to look for me, and I canât be here when they come, and I canâtââ His throat bobs. âI canât be anywhere near you. Dâyou understand me?â
You donât.
His confession arrives in pieces and your hands rise to your temples as the words work their way into whatever corner of your mind is properly conscious.
Heâs gone back to moving, the zip of the bag closing like something tearing in half. Itâs the moving you canât deal with right now because the moving means itâs already decided. It was decided before he came through the front door. Youâre hearing the end of a conversation heâs been having with himself for god knows how long.
Sick turns over in your belly, hot and acidic as it ascends your esophagus, burning the back of your tongue before you swallow it back down.
âStop.â Your hand closes firm around his forearm. âStop, justâ just look at me. Goddamnit, justâ Stop moving!â
To his credit, he goes still for a moment, turning fully toward you now and lifts both hands to your face, cradling your jaw, and every scrap of that frantic velocity drains out of him. His forehead comes down to yours, warm, a little slicked. And suddenly you would give anything to have the frantic version of him back, because stillness means heâs made time for it. John doesnât make room for things that donât matter. Heâs making room to say goodbye, and knowing that opens up beneath you like a trap-door.
His thumbs sweep the tears you didnât even feel on your cheeks. âLook at me,â his hands stiffen and close tighter when they rest on your face, forcing your gaze onto his. âI need you to hear me.â
âNo.â Youâve got two fistfuls of his shirt now, the cotton crushed in your hands, your head moving side to side against the cage of his palms. âNo. No! You donât get to do this, weâllâ weâll fix it,â you try to sniffle but sob instead. âYouâll go to someoneâ Kate! Thereâll be a wayâ,â
âThere isnât,â he murmurs, almost pleading.
âThereâs always a way.â
âNot for this.â He says it so softly it takes the legs out from under you. His breath is warm against your mouth. âNot this one, dove. Not this time. Iâm sorry.â
Part of you doesnât quite believe the apology. It was tacked on at the end like an afterthought. You know John. Or, maybe you thought you did. The blood in your heart feels like itâs curdling, heavy, turning to tar as you continue to process exactly whatâs happening here.
What heâs done.
You wrench your neck and free your face from the heat of his hands.
âHow long?â you ask, voice breaking.
He doesnât answer.
You strike his chest with the flat of both hands, again and again, then again. You canât even shift him an inch and the both of you know it, itâs just somewhere for the fear to go as it bubbles. His chin tucks, watching with a curling devastation as you keep connecting with his body. In a flash, heâs got both of his hands on your wrists, yanking you forward against him. âHow long, John?!â
Youâre starting to learn how long.
He says nothing.
This isnât a tour. It isnât a season away with a date at the end of it. Heâs running. There is no number because there is no horizon he can point to, no morning he can promise you heâll be standing in this room again.
The realization comes out of you barely above a breath as you tip your head back to see him. âYouâre not coming back.â
His eyes fall shut. He presses his mouth to your forehead hard and holds there, and when the words come they come muffled into your hair just above your ear, into the warmth of you heâs trying to memorize.
âI love you.â Itâs not an answer to your question by any stretch of the imagination. He pulls back again to meet your eyes. âWhatever they say about me, whatever you hear â thatâs the only truth, yeah?â His knuckles lift to your chin, the pad of his thumb pushing against the front of it, holding your gaze. âWhen they come, you tell them I was here, I threatened you, and I left in a hurry.â
Your lip wobbles as you look at him, your throat is so tight it hurts.
âSay it back to me.â
âY- you were here, you left in a hurry.â
âI was here, I threatened you, I left in a hurry,â he repeats.
âYou were here, y-you thre- threatened me, you left in a hurry.â
âGood.â
He kisses you and you can almost taste both halves of him in it at once: the half thatâs yours, and the half that's already gone. You give it back to him like you can hold him in the room by your mouth alone. But you canât. And you feel the precise instant he decides to stop, the breath he takes to force himself away.
âLock the door behind me,â he says.
And the velocity is back. He swings the duffle bag up onto his shoulder, and heâs past you before youâve turned, out the bedroom door, and you spin and rush after him with his name tearing out of you, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood.
âJohn! Please! John!â
But heâs already at the foot of the stairs, already crossing the hall, always faster than you, and youâre only halfway down when the front door swings open and the cold of the night pours in over the threshold to meet you. You reach the bottom step, lurch for the door.
The street is empty.
You look left, you look right. Itâs as if you dreamt the whole thing. As if you made him up, boots to beard.
Behind you, the speakerâs still playing music from the kitchen. The onions have started to catch, the sweet smell tipping over into something bitter and charred.
Rediculas au but imagine cod x the devil wears Parada where the reader is basically Miranda Priestly and dating John âsoapâ mctavish. And then Makarov who before his criminal days was your assistant at runway.
Picture this, your siting on the couch in the common room of the 141 base with you boyfriend, Soap, while the rest of the task force being in Vladimir Makarov whoâs handcuffed and yelling anything he can think. His face meets yours and it turns to 50 shades of surprise, annoyance andâŠworry?
âVladimir?â
âNo. Nope noâ he replies staring at 141 with a âfucking kill meâ expression.
âHow do you know himâ Ghost begins interrogating you assuming you were some form of spy.
Meanwhile you get of the couch and walk over to a war criminal heals clicking against the ground as you point at him with displeasure.
âYour telling me that you became a war criminal?â You pause looking him up and down âand one that canât even dress properly? Like honestly if your going to be evil do it looking fashionableâ
âHow do you know him?â Soap asks worriedly. After all his girlfriend is talking to the man that almost killed him a few months prior.
âBack in the day, when he was younger, around 20 he was my assistant at Runwayâ
âHorrible time, she was the devilâ
âAt least I managed to look good while doing it, still do, but youâŠwell you canât even go a little beyond genericâ you point to his clothing âgeneric gloves, generic coat, generic suit and generic shoes, basic video game villain, utterly patheticâ
âWell I apologise that I donât carry multi million dollar clothing around with meâ
âI taught you better then that Vladimirâ your roll your eyes âstraighten your backâ
âNoâ
âNowâ you glare at him.
âYes maâamâ
âShoulders backâ he does as said âbetterâ
âAlso, wrong shade of blue, itâs to bright for your complexion Vladimirâ
The one thing Makarov didnât expect when he was in Australia (he was in hiding, much to his dismay) was to come across a crazed scientist who may or may not obsess over creating diseases and then justâŠspreading them? Like she will genuinely create a biological weapon and then just infect some random person to see what happens.
What Makarov finds harder to believe is the fact that you would openly support him in his endeavours of getting rid of a certain task force, maybe he will take you make to Moscow with him?
you guys draw together, like A LOT every week you visit soapâs place (when heâs not on duty) and try drawing or painting each other, sometimes he has some of his mates over, youâve learnt their names Simon (prefers to be called ghost) Kyle (Gaz) and John (price), after a few years of this constant routine youâve grown comfortable and sometimes you do âatomically correct drawingsâ soaps made a few comments about you looking stunning when your laid out in the couch in nothing while he draws you, the others agree, sometimes itâs them getting painted.
y/n witnessed something bad, something she shouldn't have ever seen, she somehow stumbled across a secret operation, a company known as
"the future. ink" were experimenting on fallen soldiers, more specifically monsters / hybrids.
Except one of them wasn't dead, just waiting.
When they found out they put him in a cell and experimented on him, alive...he continuously killed his torturers but never managed to escape.
Y/n however, fresh out of collage aged 21 applies at this company assuming all is well, thinking she was making the future better... they gave her the role of a cleaner, I guess it's something at least, pays enough to live, hours are from 10pm-12am on weekdays and lam-Sam on weekends, so what happens when you see eyes peering through what looks
Iâm like half way through the first chapter đ
I donât know what type of monster or hybrid I should make him (preferably some what human looking or with a human form)
