Levi One-Shots (Reader/OC)

Fuck You, Shorty

A/N: This one's about how one of my OCs met Levi. I hope it's not complete trash, 'cause I'm completely wingin' it. By the way, there'll be swearing in this. And lots of it. If you can't already tell by the title.

P.S. I wrote this using my tablet, so there may be a few mistakes I wasn't able to catch.

*Warning: mentions of domestic abuse*

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Chris's POV:

'God dammit, won't these fuckers give up already!?' My legs ache from running and my lungs are screaming at me to slow down, but I can't because I'm being chased by five men four times my size. Why they're so determined to beat a little kid for stealing a measly loaf of stale bread is beyond me.

As I turn a corner into an alleyway I see an open barrel to my right. 'Yes!' I hop into the barrel, curl up as best I can and put a hand over my mouth to quiet my ragged breathing.

I hear their heavy footsteps as they run past, shouting profanities. I wait until I can't hear them any more, then I peek out over the edge to make sure no one's around. I heave a sigh of relief when I don't see anyone and climb out of the barrel.

I look at the bread in my hand for a second, then wolf it down as fast as I can. It's been a while since I last ate something that wasn't moldy. Once I'm done I wipe the crumbs off my mouth with my ratty sleeve and look out into the street. All I see is a couple drunks passed out along the street, so I start to head back 'home,' if you can really call it that.

I stuff my hands into my grimy and torn pants as I make my way down the cobblestone street my boots thumping heavily with every step. 'I wonder if the old bastard's drunk himself to death yet,' I scoff quietly, 'Here's hoping he has.'

It's weirdly quiet, usually there'd be some noise other than the occasional snore of a drunkard or skitter of rats. Maybe some yelling or screaming. It's... rather unnerving actually. I look around uneasily, my mane of tangled, greasy, light brown hair shifting around my face and shoulder, obscuring some of my vision before it swings out of the way.

As I turned to the right to look over my shoulder again, I hear a sudden dull thud to my left. My head whips towards the sound and I pull the knife I keep in my pocket out, just in case. I crouch down into a defensive stance, ready to fight if necessary.

But all I see is a body, huddled in the alley. I relax my stance, just a little bit, and slowly make my way towards the figure. Once I get close enough, I can make out its features better: it's a guy, about fifteen or sixteen. He has black hair, styled in an undercut and he seems really... short. His clothes are torn a slightly bloodied and it looks like he has a black eye, too.

'Damn,' I let out a small sigh, 'Looks like he got his ass handed to him.' I let out a small groan of exasperation because my damned conscience won't let me just leave him here. I kneel beside him and turn him so that he's lying on his back.

I take off his shirt to get a better look at his injuries. As I glance over his torso I take note of his visible injuries, 'Heavily bruised abdomen, likely from multiple kicks and punches to the stomach; large gash across his chest; various nicks and cuts all over; cut along the outside of his right arm.'

Then I began feeling along his ribcage. I grimace slightly when I realize that most of them are broken. 'Damn, Shorty. The Hell did you do to piss people off this bad?'

I put his shirt back on as carefully as I can, and heave him up onto my back. I grunt under his dead weight, his arms hanging limply over my shoulders and my hands under his thighs to keep him up, 'Holy fucking shit, how is it possible for someone so small to weigh so damn much!?'