#groundskeeper x reader

Sheers and a Skeleton key got you here, the crisp moist air filling your lungs instead of stale hotel air... it was refreshing, the sound of birds, air, and distant thunder. The way the trees swayed with the wind, how the air also seemed to smell of freshly cut grass everywhere you went. You were careful of the weird ant hill looking things as well, learning from last time that those things will turn your feet into swish cheese.

There were these weird... Turnips? Beets? All you knew is that they loved crying until you put them back into the hole they popped out of. But this once gods forsaken turnip wouldn't stop, you couldn't find where the vine led to, which the constant wailing made you feel funky. Your vision slowly became darker. The air felt colder as your body temperature rose, a pain in your body that felt like no other.

Something came running to, a tiny jungle of keys was second to the wailing of the screaming turnip. Then the screaming stopped, your vision was still wonky as well as your temperature. But thunder was coming in fast, and you could hardly see nor move. You felt like you where being picked up or dragged somewhere.

The air felt warmer, you don't know where you where, all you knew is that you felt much better than before. Shifting on a.. bed? with two blankets under you, and one thin one on top. Once you came to, you saw a nice little fire place full of wood, it smelled like burning pine and stew? You stumbled up before a old voice was faster then your groggy speed.

"Slow your roll there kiddo, the stew ain't goin' nowhere."

At first you were confused, a much older man? Was it a man? Maybe? It was a short black figure with a cowboy hat on, and a little red hanker cheif on arounf his neck. He hand you over a little bowl of stew on a table beside you, letting him sit down on a rocking chair. He wasn't that far away from you, which both eased you and worried you.

"Ah, don't worry bout lil old me, can't do much at this old age. Call me grampy kiddo"

His chuckle felt like honesty, you were going to ask some questions, and you only got a few before he fell asleep. You were at The Mill, his and his Sonny's home... who was this Sonny? Was it his son? Grandson? nephew? Turns out it was the Grounds keeper, big dude with a scythe, like one that you saw outside of an outhouse on your way here. He wouldn't hurt you as long as you didn't step on the grass, helped you when you got those mandrakes screaming in your ears... which... was it the one who got you here?

You heard the crunching of gravel, something was coming near you, but you were too weak to even move. You simply accepted your fate as entity chow. But - it was the Groundskeeper. It didn't seem to mind you there, only grunted when the two of you locked eyes. Seeming acknowledged your existence, it put down the massive scythe by the entrance, by a bunch of other tools. It seemed tired, grabbing a large bowl and getting some stew, which reminded you of your own stew as well.

At least it didn't burn your mouth when you ate it. It walked over to a chair opposite side of the fireplace of Grampy, sitting down to eat. It mask dropped to its neck so it could consume the stew... it tasted really good too, probably because you haven't eaten in a few hours. The two of you sat in silence, it rarely looked at you. Not wanting to look at you with its mask down. It got up unexpectedly, the both of you had finished your stews a while ago, and it walked towards you, standing over you for a moment, it pointed at your bowl with a grunt... you where confused until it opened its hand to you. Wanting to take the bowl, which you gave it to it.

The rest of the time was filled with silence and comfortable silence, which made you all sleeping, henceforth passing out again under the toasty light of the fire. It seemed to look at you when you were asleep, how the fire lined your face so well, how at peace you seemed to be, and how your eyes were so heavy with tiredness... it made his cold face warm up, quietly grunting at its own ideas of what such feelings were...

cold and wet as it may be outside, inside this house, it's warm. here inside your room, it will always be home. sheltered from the rainfall, i rest with you in your bed. we worked hard today—you, most of all—and by the end of our shared time together, we deserve this solace.

the furnace downstairs does plenty to warm us, but the softness of your breath against my fingers as i tenderly brush your face—it fills me with a warmth that even a lit fireplace couldn't compete with. you lay with me now in your bed, head in my lap, gazing longingly up at me. an emotion displayed clearly and openly in your features—in the subtle squint of your lids, and the glint in your eyes—yet it's an emotion neither of us dare give name. despite it all, i gaze back at you, and before i know it i feel myself smiling. i can't help but be happy, when i'm right by your side. i can't help it when i know that's exactly where i want to be. no matter the circumstance, you belong with me, and i with you.

i've known for months, perhaps merely weeks after you saved my life. after you invited me into your home, and even more, into your family. neither of us have had the words, nor the courage to speak it true—how i feel about you, or rather, how we feel about each other. an unspoken understanding of our bond, too shy to ever whisper admission, but much too close to ever bear being apart. hushed as a light forest breeze but just as ever-present. yet now, i lift my hand gingerly to tug your scarf below your chin and much to my surprise, not with even a hint of hesitation, you let me. i cup your cheek in my palm, and let my thumb graze across your scarred lips. you, in turn, nuzzle close into my grasp, letting the glow of your eyes dim as they flutter shut. relaxed in a way i rarely see you allow yourself. one that tells me that you trust me wholly, through and through.

after everything we've been through, after all our work—after all we've fought against and fought for, i know in my heart i trust you just the same.