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astralnymphh · 18 days ago

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carpenter!ellie 😩😩

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. ♱

content: ignoring the fact that this request is a tad old, let me indulge in you some headcanons for her! smut, mdni, reader has a child, dork!ellie content, loser!ellie content, general storyline outline, fingering(r!receiving), oral(r!recerving), dom!ellie, rough-handling, mama petname, hint of breeding kink, fluff intertwined. this took a hot minute, sorry for the wait. (2.4k wc)

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:

She was a shiny object of secular occupation. Glinted skin, tinted lips, pools of sweat in plaid, and hair like mahogany. It was eye-catching the first time. Stepping through the wide workshop door, the screeches of saws drowned everything out: the thoughts, the plans, the mental image of those kitchen cabinets you wanted done, but she drew everything back in.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the one that pulled you aside to chat about your renovation project. It took a rustic couple of days of contracting and working out blueprints before she was introduced first and foremost. Woodcraft of Wyoming makes customer-supplier relationships their top priority—and Joel made sure to put in nothing but good words.

“Hey.” She had specks of sawdust dusted across her cheeks, and a voice fit for an angel. Even held out her hand to you. “New girl on Goldpine?” Fallen straight to your knees, you were. Gorgeous girls in labor-intense jobs are the fucking sweethearts, and sweet-looking. Your opening thought was to chuckle—for no reason; there was a nervous weight on your chest. “Yeah..” It was airy and soft in the pit of your throat. “That would be me.”

And neither one of you knew how to continue threading the seam after; secluding hands in pockets, avoiding eye contact. Back then, you were simple strangers, so you had no clue that she was a virgin to regular conversations—with girls like you, at least. She communed with older folk, more often. Girls within her dating range are so damn confusing!

Not to mention, the unmentionables: Are you single? Are you gay too? Do you even like girls like her, big heart and small tits? Round eyes and long tears? Forest eyes, or ocean ones? Greyhounds, or tabbies? Do you hate coffee? Do you like video games? If you could bring one thing to a stranded, desolate island in the sea, what would it be—and why? Have you ever skipped town? Would you, if shit went south? This shit is the standard procedure for a girl heartbroken twice-over!

But you—you are the least confusing, and most wanting.

God, and she smells only of wood.

Woodlands, and processed bodies of wood. Something you expect from a girl of her plaid-wearing, converse-pairing type.

Oh, and has about every off-hand item linked to a sage carabiner in her belt loops. Rejects the idea of a purse or a backpack; pockets and loops are the way to go, apparently.

When she discarded her gloves in front of you for the first time, it was a pleasant discovery. They covered her tattoos: graceful, rebellious little things you are sure procured a lecture from her dad, Joel, who owns the place.

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄:

So, it came. Day utero, a week later: the day she had to go against the odds in her gut. So, let's say you're the cute girl on the block she wants to buy you a drink in the potential, rather near future? Forget it. You barely know each other and she was there on the clock, not to flirt with the client in her own damn house! She was the one responsible for getting your renovation project off the ground—well, deeper in it. That comes first. She had to accommodate every little need you spoke into the autumn air, every little direction.

Her heart did swing, however. She was in your world, and your voice was there too. She escaped into it, and ended up hours further in eveningtide with multiple cuts on her fingertips from lacking focus; your beauty the edge of a sharp saw. There would be a “Fuck!” or an even stronger “Motherfucker!” from her that pierced through the halls.

Again, and again, and again. The first-aid kit sees her face more than anyone else.

Soft memories of you seeped under the band-aids. Memories you think nobody will remember.

It was tedious work. It wore her and everyone involved thin, so that is exactly where you popped in. Pretty outfits and impossibly prettier artisinal platters in your hands, turning heads over the sounds of sawdust. Sunlight seemed to rain in even harder once you sauntered inside.

On her breaks, a camera would be taken out for recreation. Beyond the surrounding green belt of silence stands the backwoods; a cacophonic mural of birdsongs. Birdwatching opportunites. From the sink window, you could spot her. Each chirp that sounded, she took a polaroid camera to a perfect line of sight and snapped a photo, crinkling up her flecked nostrils. Then, you knew she understood the unspoken language of the woods.

She also never engaged much during them, reading the lips of everyone in the room—lingering on one pair the most. Yeah, yours. All the carpenters aiding you had at least something to start a conversation about: whether it be the area, who lives with you, what job you work. Humdrum things that come without thought or genuine intrigue.

But she watched. When it wasn't birds, it was you. She never meant to lurk on the sides. Sure as hell, she longed to say something—anything, but in the same chorus, not just anything.

She wanted to be the special one out of the bunch.

So, she studied you. Studied herself, next to your existence. Turns out you have more in common—and more chemistry, than a glorified hour of rubbing elbows and licking lips in a bar would provoke or reveal. Thank goodness she chose the route less traveled by.

“You go to museums quite often?” she spoke as she slid up the counter edge, sacrum leaning on the ridge. Convinced your ears were crafting speech from quiet air, you did not notice her. Whatever words she etched into the walls of her throat, practiced in the mirror a ritualistic amount of times, came out too soft. She repeated herself with a nudge, and a satin ribbon on the ends of her last words. Something you notice. “With 'ur son?” It lightened your eyes. “Oh, yeah.” It also lightened the numbed spots in your brain; she is a breath of fresh air. You wore unworn smiles for her. “He loves dinosaurs with his whole damn heart. Well, as he would say—with his whole butt, or whichever weird denominator he uses.” You get her to such an egregious level of delusion, she begins to consider marriage. With anybody, to be clear! Totally isn't limiting her options to you only. She coughs up a laugh. “Tch—he's just got an imaginative word bank. Don't knock'em, mama.” Defending the honor of your capricious son—whose humor is made up entirely of fart jokes—but she slipped in that sly nickname. You assumed she meant no lust, and no love by dropping it, an anxious pause breathing between it, but it sent a shiver right down your spine, and settled in the small of your back. Fucking romanticist.

You already thought she was perfect then.

But somehow, there was a whole lot more packaged perfection sat alone, and unwanted, inside this strange girl with doe eyes. If there was a mountain of boxes to carry in, she wouldn't even let your hands grace the edge of one.

She has an innate sensualism to her. When she did work, and when you did an admissable nothing, she enveloped the eye of your mind. Those little, lustful pit stains drooping from her shirt everytime she lifted her arms, were attractive. The swipes from the backs of her hands across her forehead, or even the covert decisions to unclothe her skin of those sweat-dried graphic shirts and fashioning them into facecloths and raveling back inside them before anyone could glimpse, made you lustful; sweating from the sight. Sunlight was upon her like a heliograph, yet you were the true bitch in heat.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓:

You only ever got together in the late autumn wrap-up of your project. Every prosaic interaction boiled to a point, and for both reaching, yearning hearts, it became too hot to handle. One had bent under the pressure and paltered for courage you couldn't even pry from stone: Ellie, baby-blue plaid and ripped-jeaned on your doorstep—with a bouquet.

Getting you to come to her place was the be-all and end-all to this relationship, and you are fucking glad it is. Learning more about the girl who already ticked all the boxes on being the perfect hitch to your perfect trailer, is exhilarating. Turns out, the endless commodities of nature fit into the palms of her callused hands, are weld into more than only houses. While a handful of you—including some co-workers who freeload on an average—had your fills of old, Texan-style dishes, Joel brought up punctual beats about his daughter, which she cringed at. Wrinkled faces passed around the room.

“C'mon, Ellie. Why don't you run up there and grab yer' guitar you made? Entertain your guest with a song?” Ellie sneered, silverware in her pinch clattering. “Uh—first off Joel, she's not a guest. She's my—” Though complaining, she could barely writhe her words out. The craven, cringing look on her face suggested this was her first time hosting a special guest ever. The words ghost the press of her lips, and only make it out in quiet mumbles. “Date. She is.. my date.”

All the sentient sound in the room died after. Sure made it easier for Ellie to decide that a family gathering was not her style, regardless if you knew everyone, essentially. She was none the wiser, and wiped her plate clean in record time just to gallop her autumn valentine up to her room with sweet and silken things alike crawling in her mind.

Her whispers are lithe on skin. “Think you're like the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me.” She had you kneeling into her love; sat in-between her barely-crossed legs, on the bed, close in a huddle and breathing into your neck. Telling you soft devotionals as if you're a bird born in shrouds that she gets to hold; her fingers trying to tangle with yours so that you may never leave. Capturing the memory like she captures a photograph. You spoke even softer. “Yeah?” The confirmation making her smile stupid in your neck. She replaces her teeth with a single, pulse-point kiss, smushing her nose. Everything is a no-brainer now that she has you to herself, for herself.

Of all trees in the forest: you are her one to carve. Ellie—the buried lover, the Ellie she kept swallowing inside, has crawled out at loathing last. This one is all-loving, eating the empty spaces that cling to your body: under the warming ears, in the pearl-shaped dip of your throat, each word that comes out. She creates little shavings of your body with the blades of her tongue, and is humming at the taste. Cleaning you, wetting your untouched skin, creating excuses for your clothes to come off.

Soon, her body is sweating upon yours; two lovers melting into each other. She drags you roughly into her mouth, arousing the bud of your nipple to stand to her lips. It hits her tongue, again and again, and is left with a wet shine. God, that fucking sight alone makes you cross your legs, and hope she does something about the uncomfortable nectar dripping down there.

She palms you about it.

“Fuck.”

In the most heavenless regions is where she shines. Literally, and figuratively. Shoving her face into the drenched secret of your spread thighs gets her soaked more than you predicted, or pictured. So when she opens her legs and pushes against you, it presses a premature moan out.

But it would not be alone. When her fingers snag and puncture in your hips, and her cunt—thick with an auburn bush—is smushing against yours, litanies of sounds spill out.

“Goddamn babe,” she huffs into a grunt, pouring all the attention solely on you. Her pussy is just lathering yours—pornographic, visual filth and more; the sounds are all you hear. “This is just what you needed, huh?” She hunches over your handled sillhouette, panting and wiping the thin hairs stuck to her lips. Her rosy face is afflcited by warmth, and shine, stare sleepy and soft. “Fuck—you look so pretty right now.” She said that, and it sounded like a revelation. With her lips curling, teeth showing, hips stilling and fingers trailing on you like you are a treasure, above and below the sea. You end up sharing the toothy smile with her. Then, her breath cuddles in closer. “Don't wanna hurt you,” She kisses your sensitive neck with a promise, unfolding the love letters in her heart. Quietly devouring your neck with wet mouthings and hot words that vibrate into your pounding one. She sucks in a sibilant breath before she continues. “But it's fucking hard not to go insane when you're so fuckin—” She stifles, and her lips pinch your skin; her intentions to mark you so obvious. She could finish you with this alone. “Mhh, so pretty babe.” How she handles you makes you feel pretty.

Customer relationships being the priority makes your pleasure her priority—in a determined tussle. When she manhandled you into some debased position; face down, ass up, you never expected her subsequent decision to put herself at a low level, too. She sits behind you, and the hand once so delicate in practice upon your face is pushing your thigh to make room for herself.

You could say she was the one being debased on her own accord. Her tongue took long, starving strokes of you, licking your pussy from behind. It drips off her tongue, down her chin, gets inside her nostrils. She whispers how much she loves it after doing it, chanting it.

Spanking is also a no-brainer. Something about the impulse gets her going. She whacks her palm across and immediately sinks her fingers in until it soothes, laughing like a fucked-out, pussydrunk maniac when your muscles shiver—her favorite part.

Will finger you if it means showing off those spire tattoos; she knows how bad you keel for them.

“God, she's just swallowin' em up.” The heads of her fingers push in, ease in and ease out. She slides out, and paints your entrance with the arousal coating her intricate digits in circles, intending to be as unapologetic as possible with it, and the sounds. She proudly chuckles when you whine. “Yeah, hear that?” “Mhm.” She made you infatuated with them, if anything.

She would give you another child, and compose all the needed furniture from scratch—if she could.

#✮─── . aestra's bibliotheca #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #dom!ellie #carpenter!ellie #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams imagine

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welcometomypersonalhell098 · 4 months ago

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Don’t Imagine with Jade Leech…

Warning: None! As far as I’m aware. Some weird mushroom? It does “bleed” but not much detail

author’s note: this is my first ficpost!! planning on a floyd ver for suresies >:) (god no one is gonna see this this is so self indulgent)

1.3k words, fluff, pre-relationship

DON’T Imagine…that for once you didn’t have to worry about overblots or whatever latest shenanigans your friends had gotten up to. Everyone was in their own little bubbles, even Grim who had pounced on the chance to attend a Heartslabyul tea party. For once, there was only peace and you couldn’t be more relieved. You decide to take a leisurely stroll through the halls of NRC. Why not? You could stand to learn more about the place that you call home now. (You wonder if it will be that way indefinitely.)

Don’t think about peering into the science classroom while being sucked into the vortex that was your own thoughts and finding Jade shouldering on hiking gear. The equipment was bulky yet swung across his back effortlessly as he took stock of his stuff. You spot a lantern peeking from the side of his overcoat and a compass on a backpack strap. You blink and realize this must be the “Mountain Lovers” Club that Jade himself had told you about in passing. You recall that conversation with a weird fondness. Jade Leech was most certainly a man to be wary of—that was a fact without question. But, in the moment you showed interest in his little club: you saw his eyes shine with a wholesome joy. That is not a passion a person could fake, you were sure of it.

“Prefect? Can I help you?”

Oh, certainly do not think about how you were caught staring. Jade’s eyebrow crooks upward with the beginnings of a crooked smirk creeping up his face. You clear your throat and ask where he was going. Try not to think about how you feel like you walked in on something intimate. Don’t, because your face is warm. You don’t miss the way his face brightens ever so slightly under the usual mask of cunning.

“Ah. I am heading to the mountains. It is a little ways from the school gate, and yet I have yet to scale it. I wish to correct that today.” You hum in response. It wasn’t like you had much else to do today, and Jade wasn’t bad company—to you at least. It was hard to tell with him; like any day now could be the day the other shoe drops. You know that. And yet, you ask to join him.

“You…Want to?” He says, the shock written all over his face. It shifts back just as quickly as it came into the Jade’s usual polite expression. “Fuhuhu…I would not want to turn you away after you asked so nicely after all. “

In a few hours, you and Jade were well on your way up the mountain. The journey was mostly quiet as the two of you walk side by side absorbing the peacefulness into your very bones. Sunlight streams through leaves above you and warm your skin, the chittering of woodland birds becomes the soundtrack, and the crunching of sticks accent your footfalls. Interspersed among beats of comfortable silence was Jade’s stops to examine mushroom specimens for his terrariums.

He halts you with a hand on your wrist for one of these stops(don’t think about how it stops your heart singlehandedly) and crouches to a mushroom though it looks to you much more like an open pomegranate. “A ‘Bleeding Tooth’,” Jade says with a hushed awe in his voice, “It secretes a thick red liquid—hence the name. Despite that, it is completely nonpoisonous. What a most fascinating specimen.” The name was indeed scary sounding. You crouch down next to Jade for a better look, and you can’t help but agree with wonder.

There is a pause. As you look at this most strange looking growth, Jade peers at you. “Creepy. Is it not?” He says nonchalantly. You blink up at him. He looks back with a glint in his eye that you feel as familiar. You just can’t quite recall from where. But it makes you feel wrong inside. “Mushrooms are a particularly extraordinary part of land ecosystems,” He continues, “They do not hunt or hide. But they will be the ones to dispose of all life eventually and make it anew. And if something, or someone, were to stop them…well there’s been enough proof of its power.”

Ah. You remember now. His yellow eye draws you in like an angler fish draws in prey. You cannot help but liken this scene to when you first met Jade in the Coral Sea—when he was swimming circles around you and merely toying with his food.

“It is a little scary, is it not?” Jade Leech says again. You stare. And Jade stares back. Something in the back of your mind supplies the nature of Jade’s unique magic to you. It does nothing to stifle the tension in the air that threatens to suffocate you. You wonder, if there was any part of Jade that wanted to make you bleed like the mushroom he so admired.

“Not really.” You reply as you turn back to the fungi. Jade makes a tilt of his head. “Really, now?” You nod. “I mean, that’s how they survive, right? They grow in bright colors and weird shapes to make sure they can live. It’s not like we can fault them for that,” You point to the oozing mass in front of you both, “Isn’t that what every living thing wants? And it’s pretty important that they decompose stuff, since it recycles nutrients. If anything, doesn’t it make them pretty essential?”

You look over at Jade again: “They don’t tend to hurt the living unless somebody decides to mess with it. And some don’t have any effects at all. It’d be weird to lump them all together like that.”

Jade stares. And you stare back. Something imperceivable happens within his mind and you find yourself wishing you could peer inside. He smiles. “I knew bringing you along would be most fruitful.” And he stoops down to take the Bleeding Tooth with him.

You’ve been walking for a few hours at this point. The two of you chat more freely now after that little pitstop. You find yourself slowing as you hike higher and higher up the mountain: apparently you severely misjudged the fitness and experience required for such a journey. Your hiking partner’s mirth in his eyes cannot be overstated and you shoot him a look. He plays it off masterfully with a faux offended look that you would even say such a thing. You nudge his side. He laughs. Despite his ribbing, he lends you his hand to pass the rougher terrain. Do not think about how your fingers lace perfectly against each other. Do not think about how when you make it across the felled tree in the way; Jade takes a few seconds longer than necessary to pull away.

At last, the you two make it to the top and the view was worth your pain and more. It was gorgeous: the sun casting hues of orange, yellow, and pink as it sets across the vastness of the mountain below you. Every tree and bush looked like strokes of a paintbrush on the ethereal work of art. You turn excitedly to Jade at your side to point out the way the clouds frame the scene—and are met with his expression examining your own. You dared not put a name to it, but it made your heart race in a way you didn’t know it could. Do not even think about classifying Jade’s expression as “fond” or god forbid “admiring.”

Because then, it would mean your heart would be as good as his.

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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Love your stories btw ♥️, may I request 🐈‍⬛ with alpha leader Max V. x sunshine! human reader mate ( moreover how they met ). She’s walking alone in the woods where she runs into Maxie in his wolf form, she gets a bit afraid since he looks intimidating but starts to pet him and coo at him while Max let’s her because he immediately knew that she is his mate ( he’s enamored yet amuse at how cute she is). All of the sudden, another wolf from his pack comes out of nowhere trying to “protect” Max since you’re human causing them to push you away resulting in you bleeding and being hurt. Max sees that and goes crazy

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

It had been a last minute decision to take a hike in the woods.

Between the stress of moving and the fact more boxes kept being left at your doorstep, you were seconds away from losing your mind and immediately needed a break. But you didn’t like the idea of stopping by a nearby restaurant by yourself like some lone wolf. Normally, you wouldn’t care but the idea of judgemental eyes following your every move wasn’t exactly your idea of relaxation.

And with a massive garden that led out into acres of woodland, it seemed like the perfect choice to take a small hike and get to know the area around you.

You had been careful to keep note of which path you were taking as you set out, a backpack with essentials and an extra layer in case it got chillier as the sun went down. It was serene, something about being surrounded by nature and being disconnected from city life was an escape you didn’t even realise you needed as you padded through the woods.

However, an hour into your hike, the last thing you expected to see was any wildlife bigger than the odd bunny running past your legs. Maybe a fox if you were pushing it.

But certainly not a wolf.

You had been humming away to yourself, basking in the calm and peaceful air around you when you heard a twig snap. Your head snapped up, a soft smile on your face as you expected to see another little bunny. However, your smile quickly fell and you stopped short in your path the moment you saw the large wolf on the other side of the clearing.

He was big. Far bigger than any dog you had ever seen, though that was much was a given. His fur was a mix between light brown and blonde, though you couldn’t exactly be sure. But his eyes—they were different. They were a striking blue, and you almost felt like they could look right into your soul. You felt stupid for even thinking that, though it didn’t stop you from feeling as much.

You held your hands out hesitantly, the fear striking through your body when you realised the way his eyes were locked on you. You swallowed back the ball at the back of your throat, taking a small hesitant step back.

Yet, the wolf just tilted his head at you like he was confused.

You took another step back, and only then did it seem to pick up on the fact you were trying to leave. The second you saw it move towards you, you let out a scream on instinct and raised your arms up to cover yourself.

You waited. You waited to feel the wolf’s claws digging into your skin or his teeth sinking into your flesh. You waited to feel the wrath of a known predator, but instead you felt his snout nosing your legs before he slumped down at your feet.

You stared down at the beast with wide eyes, unsure if you were even living the moment or if it was one of your fever dreams you’d wake up on the couch after in a complete daze. But the wolf let out a small whimper and you found yourself almost smiling down at him.

“Oh,” you murmured as you hesitantly reached out to stroke his fur—almost surprised by how soft it was—only to fully grin when he let out a noise of contentment. “You’re just a friendly big guy, huh?”

The wolf only rolled onto his back, paws in the air and his tail wagging as you softly rubbed his belly, laughing a little at the way he preened at the touch.

“What a good boy,” you cooed softly as you kneeled down on the floor, the shrubbery beneath you cushioning you as you continued to pet the wolf. “I never knew wolves could be so friendly.”

However, lost in your awe and surprise of the friendly wolf, you had failed to notice a second one slowly approaching you from behind.

You didn’t feel the pain until a few seconds later, more focused on the fact you were fucking winded from a large wolf tackling you from behind. You lifted yourself off the ground, sitting up as you choked on your own breaths. And when the pain hit you, you raised your hand to your forehead, only to quickly wince when you felt the tender wound and the stickiness of your own blood.

But your own injuries seemed to be the last thing on your mind when you noticed the friendly wolf standing in front of you, growling and flashing his sharp teeth at the second wolf (who now, in comparison, looked smaller than him).

You shuffled back, your head spinning as you tried to process the sight in front of you. And then, the most unexpected thing happened.

Where the friendly wolf stood moments ago, now stood a man. A very naked man. A very pissed off, naked man.

“Go!” He growled, despite the fact he was a human now and no longer an animal. “Get the fuck out of here before I decide to rip your throat out! Go while you still have a fucking chance of saving your life!”

The second wolf whined and whimpered, bowing his head in submission. And in a blink of an eye, he was gone, running through the woods he appeared from moments ago.

You must’ve let out a noise because suddenly the man was turning to face you, uncaring of his current lack of clothes or the fact he was a fucking animal moments ago. His focus was completely on you, with those same blue eyes staring at you with a mix of worry and concern.

He kneeled before you and, if you were sane and normal, you would have scampered onto your feet and ran away by now. But for some reason that was beyond your own understanding, you didn’t feel the need to run away from this man. Not yet, at least.

His hand reached out to softly push your hair away from your face, only for his lips to turn downwards at the sight of the wound on your forehead. His fingertips trailed across your cheek and down your jaw before he murmured quietly to himself, “my mate.”

And yet, there was only one thing you seemed to blurt out in response.

“What the fuck are you?”

#cece's slumblurb party #max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Jade Congrats !!!!! Just yesterday I was thinking about how much I miss vampire Eddie, can I request something w him and shy reader? Maybe when he's feeling like he's dangerous for reader and she has to reassure him that she trust him and adores him <3

tysm lovely! ♡ 1.2k

It physically pains you to call the same person multiple times. Each loop of the trill makes you antsy, eager to shove down the receiver and curl into a sorry, sad ball. You let it ring. When it goes to answer phone, you type in Eddie's number and call again.

It picks up. Breathless, a little surprised, you ask, "Eddie?"

"Hey, sweetheart."

He sounds defeated. You're not perfect with tone but the subtleties of his stick stark like a neon sign. Your boyfriend has bouts of depression that often manifest in a lethargic voice like this.

"Hi, Eddie. I was just calling to make sure you're home before I come over." Usually, you'd ask, but you don't want him to say no. It feels rude and weird and overbearing, but you know what he's thinking. Leaving your comfort zone for his sake isn't easy, and you do it anyway. "I made you something."

"Okay. I can't wait to see it… can't wait to see you. Sorry I didn't answer this morning, I was sleeping."

"That's fine. I'm just happy you're okay, I was worrying about you."

You pack his gift into a bag with a tupperware of cookies and a thermos of hot chocolate. Eddie's home is close to yours. Within ten minutes you're knocking on his door with wind-bitten cheeks, the September cold nipping your heels. Leaves from the trees in the surrounding woodlands dance crispy at your feet, orange and brown mulch that sticks to your treads.

Eddie unlocks the door to let you in. You see his hand first, deathly pale, black obsidian rings crowding his fingers where they curl around the door. For a second it's like he's going to turn you away, but he widens the gap and you squeeze inside.

He forgets whatever's wrong to touch your face. "Hey," he says, his hand slipping to cup under your jaw.

"Hi. You okay? You look pale."

"Am I usually more tan?" he asks, dropping his hand. "Fine. Blood sate in a few days. For now I'm eating rare steak and wishing I was dead."

He's kidding around, but you take his hand and squeeze his cold fingers.

"You're as cold as me," he says.

"It's nearly October outside. You'd know if you left the house."

He hums at your telling off, the two of you toe to toe just behind the front door. He sounds vaguely admonished and more curious, kneading your fingers in his with an unmissable amount of love. "Come on," he says, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, "you need a blanket."

You take off your shoes and coat, following Eddie through his living room, past the bathroom and into his bedroom. It's immaculately clean for once, but when you left the day before yesterday it was chaos. Something tells you he hasn't been sleeping as much as he claims.

"What have you been doing in here?" you ask, putting your backpack on the bed. Eddie moves behind you, taller, a sweetheart through and through as he gets his hands on your shoulders and digs his thumbs in lightly.

"I need to apologise to you," he says.

"That's a big word."

"I lied to you earlier, I wasn't sleeping, but I've been thinking… I needed to think."

Well, what he's saying is nerve-wracking, but his hands aren't telling the same story. He's doing it on purpose for sure. "You don't have to say sorry for wanting time to think. Uh–"

"Relax," he says. "Please. I just want to talk to you about something. Don't be nervous."

"I'm constantly nervous."

"I know." Eddie's hands pause at the space below your shoulder blades. It's strange not to be looking at him. He takes a deep breath. "Is that because of me?"

You take your thermos out of your bag and turn. His pupils are small as they tend to be before a blood sate, his lips chapped. He starts to look poorly when he's hungry. The cookies and hot drink should help.

"If it was because of you, how come I was like this before we met?" you ask gently, offering him the thermos.

"Do I make it worse?"

"Of course you don't." How do you describe it to him? He's handsome and sweet and he makes you feel like you're something special. He's smart. He's fucking funny. Nothing about his demeanour or who he is has ever made you nervous, you've only ever worried you wouldn't measure up.

It's hard to say out loud. Tentative, you put your hands on his waist. When he lifts his chin, you hug him close, strangely close to tears at the smell of him under your nose.

"Eds, why would you think that? Have I made you think that?" you murmur.

"You know what I am." He tosses your thermos on the bed to cover your shoulders.

"Yeah, I do."

"You wouldn't tell me if I scared you–"

You flinch backward. "You think you scare me?"

The starts of his eyebrows rise, his little box of wrinkles pinched, and his pupils slowly widening. When he speaks, it's with the practised cadence of a well-worn worry, "I'm not normal. You don't have to pretend that this is normal."

"It doesn't feel normal to me," you say, placing your hand on his chest, fingertips against his shirt but palm hovering a half inch above. "It just feels like love. I love you, and I trust you. Is that what's worrying you?"

"No," he says, winded. "I'm worried I'll hurt you. I know you trust me too much, you're," —he takes your face into big hands, kissing you very softly between words— "not the problem."

You hug again. Cheek to cheek, an arm slung over his shoulder protectively.

You miss your happy, weirdo boyfriend when he gets like this, but you understand why it happens. You don't resent him, don't mind, really, that he needs to be told these things. You'll be cheesy and soft as long as he needs it.

"You're not the problem, either. You're a really good guy with a big heart and a propensity for catastrophizing," you say, your voice tipping into a teasing ire that borders theatrical.

He laughs like he was supposed to and steps back. Face I'm his hands, you turn your cheek into his left palm and smile into his syrupy brown eyes.

"I haven't given you your gift."

"I love you," he says. Licking his lips, "What gift?"

You made him a coaster out of air dry clay, black and lacquered with a glaze that gleams like mother of pearl. He reads it and snorts, his top lip peeling back to expose the barest hint of a sharp tooth. "I heart my paranormal boyfriend," he reads, his voice gritty with humour. "Bit on the nose."

You get a kiss for your efforts, firmer than the one he'd given you minutes before. Eddie's gonna be just fine in a couple of days, but for now you'll stick close. You don't want him getting the wrong idea —he doesn't scare you even slightly.

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thedruidsforest · 20 days ago

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Tahquamenon Falls, Wilderness Trail - Michigan's UP June 2024

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sapphic-coded · 9 months ago

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I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and misses her gun home. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Hunted animals. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Life has been crazy. It still is. But this series is so much fun to write. Please know that your comments and love have kept my days bright. I read all your comments. Your likes and reblogs make me do my happy dance. It makes me happy that you guys are enjoying this series as much as I am. I apologize for the wait. I hope this new chapter makes up for it!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox @fxckmiup

Chapter Eight: You Can't Raise Hell With A Saint

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

You watched the station wagon slowly back out of your driveway from your bedroom window. As you watched, you folded and then unfolded the piece of paper in your hand several times. Your father’s departing words echoed in the back of your mind.

“This is vital to maintaining our relationship with our allies. Remember. When the time comes, we must position ourselves on the correct side.”

You waited until the station wagon disappeared from view before your attention shifted onto the snowman across the street. Your father is gone for the weekend. Your assigned homework is already completed and buried in your backpack. You had hoped for two uninterrupted days with your friend. You two had discovered a perfect hill for sledding not too far away. You had hoped you could return to it this weekend with Nat. But before your father had left, he had given you an assignment. One you were not allowed to ignore.

But if you finish it quickly like your homework…

You turned away from the window and got dressed. The house was quiet as you descended the stairs and hunted through the kitchen for breakfast. Your father had given both your brother and sister assignments. You figured your siblings were already out doing them. You found an opened pack of pop-tarts hidden behind the jar of two dead mating frogs. You ate the delicious blueberry pop-tart and washed it down with tap water from the sink. Once breakfast was done, you pulled on your snow boots and put on your heavy winter coat. You unfolded your father’s note once more to reread the words hastily scribbled in fine black ink. Then, you refolded up the note and shoved it into your coat’s pocket.

You left out the back door and pulled on your gloves as the morning winter air scratched at your face. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you headed towards the treeline. The woods behind your house stretched onwards for roughly two miles. It was one of the reasons why your father had chosen to settle here. He could disappear into this patch of quiet woodland and no one but you and your siblings would know.

For a while, the only noise was the steady rhythm of your footsteps and the chirping of birdsong as you left your house behind and walked deep into the woods. The sunlight shone brightly off the surface of the snow and made your eyes water if you stared at it for too long. You felt the wind beginning to pick up and blow against your back as you walked. Your pace did not slow until you reached the base of a tree with a dead hare hanging from a snare.

You knelt down into the cold snow and pulled your hunting knife from your coat pocket. You cut the rope and lifted the dead animal up by the rope’s lead. Its dark lifeless eyes stared at you and you searched for any ounce of pity. When you didn’t find any, you stood up and continued walking. The weight of the hare hanging from the small noose made you feel less alone. You kept walking until you spotted a smooth, round rock. You picked it up and it nearly covered your whole palm.

You tied the end of the rope around the rock as you continued further into the woods. The light of the sun had started to dim when you finally reached a large pond. Your feet carried you to a narrow dock that stretched out over the water. The wooden boards groaned beneath your feet as you came to the end of the dock. You looked down into the dark water. It hadn’t frozen over yet which made your assignment easier. The wind continued to blow at your back as you tossed the dead hare into the water. The lifeless animal hit the cold water with a splash and floated on the pond’s surface for a moment. Then the dark water pulled the dead hare down into its depths. You waited for some kind of response. A sign that your assignment was complete. But nothing happened. So you turned and started the trek home.

Your thoughts returned to your friend as you began following your footprints back the way you came. You would have the whole rest of the day to do whatever you wanted. And tomorrow you wouldn’t have to waste any time with another assignment. Your immediate future was bright and that fueled your quick pace.

But your pace started to slow when you lost sight of your footprints in the snow. The wind that had been blowing must have covered them up. You ignored the first sour taste of fear and kept going. You had planned to just follow your tracks back home, but you could make it back without them. You had only gone in one direction. It wouldn’t be difficult to find your way back home. You shoved your gloved hands into the pockets of your heavy coat as the wind now blew against your face.

The light of the sun continued to fade as you made new tracks in the snow. You were going in the right direction. You had to be. But you spotted new bushes and weird leaning trees that you hadn’t seen before. You felt yourself shivering against the cold as the light faded into the coming dark. You kept walking until you finally leaned against a tree and sank towards the freezing ground. You closed your eyes and tried to curl yourself up as much as you could within the fading warmth of your coat.

You don’t know how you messed up your assignment. You thought you knew your way back. You thought this would be so easy. Your father had dragged you and your siblings out here plenty of times. Yet you’re lost and you don’t know what to do other than sit here and–

“Y/N!”

Nat.

Triskelion, Washington D.C. – 2012

You miss your little piece of woodland paradise. You had discovered the small cabin during your fourth job. You had been posing as a realtor for your target. The cabin had caught your eye because of its remoteness. It was tucked away along the mountainside and far enough away from all the main roads that all you heard when you stepped outside was birdsong and the wind brushing through the trees. It was the perfect spot to kill your target. The cabin had been left on the market for years and only maintained by a vendor who came out once a season to keep the place from falling apart. You would have no interruptions to deal with. If your target tried to flee, it would be a long run back to a main road. And even if your target got that far, they would need to run from there back to the nearest town. This spot was an open playground. You could kill your target however you wanted. Chase them around if you were feeling energetic. Sever their head with an axe like a lumberjack cutting up wood.

But when you had pulled up to the cabin for the first time, you realized that you couldn’t do any of that here. Sure, you had plenty of space. The cabin was remote. The main road lightly traveled. When you let out a scream to test if anyone would come running, no one did. It wasn’t until you walked through the cabin and into each of the small, cozy rooms that you understood why you couldn’t bring your target here. The cabin felt too much like a home.

The pictures that hung on the walls were snapshots of the owner’s life. Frames full of smiling faces and captured happy moments. You saw the lives of their children begin with innocent, small, round confused faces and stop at handsome young faces decorated in medals and gowns. The furniture bore the nicks and marks of a life used. You could even see the spots of soot left behind in the fireplace where the vendor failed to clean.

You had only ever been in a home like this once before. You had sat down onto the couch in the cabin’s small family room and looked over at the kitchen. You imagined the smell of Nat’s home. You imagined Nat’s mother standing in the kitchen. It was the only thing you could think of. You sat there for a long time. It had been the first time in years that you thought about your friend without all the other stories hanging onto the memory. You thought about Nat. You thought about how happy you had been around her. You tried to imagine her as an adult, but you couldn’t. She was dead, and you were no longer the kid she met back in Ohio.

You ended up killing your target during a private tour of a much larger home far away from the cabin you found. By the time you had bought and moved into the cabin, the new owners of the other much larger home had only finished finding all your target’s missing fingers. The cabin had become your home. Your place to unwind after your jobs. You had filled it with everything you knew that belonged in a home. You loved the feeling of walking through the front door after a long job and just breathing in the smell of your home.

Your bunk is nothing like your cabin. You are buried beneath all the important floors. Your room has no windows. Your room has four white walls, harsh overhead lights, and a white tiled floor. The brightness of the room often gives you a headache which is why your favorite time to be in your bunk is when you are sleeping. All the lights are off and you can listen to the hum of the air conditioner. The best part is that you don’t have to wear that stupid suit when you are in here. You are even allowed to speak, however the only person you ever talk to is Rumlow.

You miss your cabin so much.

The lights in your room come on when the door opens. The twin sized mattress you lay on offers the bare minimum of comfort, yet you don’t bother to sit up. Instead, as you wake and hear familiar footsteps, you drape your arm over your eyes. It successfully blocks out the harsh light, but does nothing to stop the approaching footsteps.

“The bosses up top were impressed with your Bardstown mission,” Rumlow says.

You can’t fight back the small laugh that works its way past your curling lips. With your arm draped over your eyes you can see Sikora’s bent neck clearly. You can still hear each crunch as his body collided down each step. “I killed one person and they weren’t even my target.”

“Which worked out in your favor,” Rumlow says as his approaching footsteps stop. “You played your part. The mission was a success, and no one will look deeper than that.”

You lift your arm away from your eyes and let it flop down to your side. The harsh lights already make your eyes water, but you focus on Rumlow who stands beside your bunk looking down at you. “Do you find your work fulfilling?” Instead of answering you, he turns and steps away from your bunk. You sit up. “Satisfaction is very important to me.”

Rumlow causally makes his way over to a small table. He picks up the half finished bottle of bourbon Nat gave you before leaving Bardstown. You couldn’t drink it then. Removing your helmet around her would go against everything Rumlow has been drilling into your head. But you had ripped your helmet off the moment you returned to your bunk. You had brought the bottle to your lips, and you had drunk so much while thinking of her.

“What are you asking for?” he asks.

“Let me work,” you reply. “Without the suit and the rules. Tell me who the bosses want dead, give me back my gun, and let me kill them.”

Rumlow sets the bottle down. “That’s not how this works.”

You roll your eyes and flop back down onto your bunk.

“I also don’t have your gun,” he adds.

You close your eyes and swallow back the urge to yell. You hate this role so much. If you were impressing these bosses so much, why wouldn’t they let you show them how good you really were? What was the point of all the secrets if most of SHIELD was really HYDRA anyways? Or at least, most of the important people. Or whatever Rumlow had told you during those first few days.

“The bosses were also pleased with how you handled Romanoff,” Rumlow says.

Your eyes open and you stare up at the bland white ceiling. You fight back the smile you know is coming when you think back to the best day of your life. You hope you end up on another mission like that. Just the two of you. The one little new piece of your life that made tolerating this role just a bit more manageable.

“How do you feel?” Rumlow asks.

Like you want to pour over the office directory until you find her office. You’d race up there and sneak in when she isn’t around. You’d sit in the comfortable office chair that you hope she has up there. You’d take your helmet off and wait. And when she finally enters you’d spin around in her chair for a proper dramatic entrance.

You turn your head to look at Rumlow. “Depressed. My favorite gun is lost.”

Rumlow holds your stare. You know what he’s looking for. Perhaps if he could read minds then he would have found it. Instead, you hide all your fantasies and memories behind your little lie. It’s easy. You do the same trick your father always did. String together a story from bits and pieces of truth and mold it into what you need. You know it worked when Rumlow finally breaks your little staring contest. You don’t move when he turns away from you. You don’t want to give away your victory.

“You have training with Rollins in twenty,” Rumlow says before he leaves.

You wait until the door to your room shuts behind him before you get up. You move towards the table and grab the half empty bottle of bourbon. You bring it to your lips and take a sip. The smooth amber liquid washes across your tongue and burns down your throat. You think of when she handed you this bottle. You remember the way her hands briefly brushed across your gloved ones.

You set the bottle down and change while your mind lingers in that memory. Rollins is already waiting for you when you arrive at one of the training rooms a few floors up. Bright sunlight pours through the windows that run along the far side of the training room. You feel uncomfortably hot underneath your suit, and you already miss the cool kiss of the air conditioning that hums in your bunk. When you see Rollins in the training room, your interior visor screen lights up with data you already knew. Except for the healing ribs. That part is new.

Rollins leads you over to a bunch of blue mats. The hand to hand combat drills still feel weird. You know what you are supposed to do. You had learned back when Rumlow first shoved you into this stupid suit that going for kill strikes was not in compliance. You had to work your way up to kill strikes to make everything more believable.

“You’re not an assassin anymore. You’re a SHIELD agent.”

Which wasn’t even the truth. You found that this dance they forced you to do felt awkward. Your movements felt sloppy as you fought not to go for the opening that would put your target down permanently. And when a kill strike was considered acceptable, it always came far too late. It never felt right. These lessons pressed up against the memories of your training back in Ohio, and it often left you feeling more frustrated than anything else.

Your training with Rollins is quickly following the same trend as all the others. Your punches feel sluggish and off. Every time Rollins dodges your hit or counters, you know exactly what you should have done instead. Your frustration grows as you hold back. Your thoughts scream at you in the roar of your father’s voice. You want to give in. Why trade blows when it can easily be only you hitting your target? But you’ve already tried giving in. You had managed to bloody your knuckles a bit before Rumlow had started talking to you about compliance. Everything had stopped despite your urge to keep going. Then you were back at the beginning as if your outburst hadn’t happened.

Rollins dodges one of your punches and delivers a blow to your torso that pushes you back a step. He doesn’t advance. He stands there and waits as you swallow back all the foul words that usually tumble out of your mouth whenever something hurts. It’s hard not to say anything. Especially when he stands there looking bored. But you aren’t eager for them to start fucking with your mind again, so you keep quiet. The sound of your heavy breaths fills up your helmet as you return to your spot in front of Rollins. You duck under his right arm as it swings out. Your fist slams into his healing ribs and the noise he makes is exactly what you needed to hear. His cry is short-lived as he quickly masks it with a grunt. He retreats from you, and you let him. You watch as his breaths become more labored as his hands press against the very spot you hit. You don’t know if you just broke one of his healing ribs. It hadn’t been your intention, but you certainly didn’t pull that punch.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

Her voice steals your attention. She stands by the door dressed in a dark gray sweatshirt and black joggers. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, and her head tilts slightly as her question is first met with silence. Well, more like your silence and Rollins’ heavy breaths. You could shatter this stretch of quiet in a heartbeat, and you want to. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you bury the urge. Your eyes greedily take in the sight of your friend. You are grateful for your stupid helmet as your eyes run down the length of her legs and stop at the black sneakers that cover her feet.

“I thought you were heading back up to New York with Rogers,” Rollins finally says.

“Eventually,” she replies with a slight shrug and walks further into the training room. “But I have some stuff I need to take care of first.” She uncrosses her arms as she casually approaches the mats. “You should head back before anyone from medical catches you here.”

“I’m a bit busy training the quiet one,” Rollins says.

You should have tried to break his ribs. He’d be too busy dealing with that pain to put a premature end to this wonderful moment.

“I can take over,” she offers.

Your helmet conceals the wide smile that cuts across your face. You don’t know what you have done to deserve so much alone time with your friend, but you will happily do whatever it takes to keep ending up in these wonderful moments. You don’t hear Rollins leave, and when you look over at the man, you can tell that he is unsure if he should leave. The questions he cannot voice are written plainly across his face and your smile falters. Is he…is he not going to leave? Is he really going to ruin this for you? You want to tell him that his concerns are unnecessary. If you were going to spill the beans, you would have done it the moment you and Nat were alone on the quinjet. Or sometime in Bardstown. Not in some fancy building secretly full of HYDRA agents ready to put you down with just a couple of random words.

“Don’t worry,” her voice pulls your attention back to her. Despite the fact that she is addressing Rollins, her focus is on you. You spot the beginnings of a smirk that stirs up something inside you. Something exciting and warm. “I won’t break her.”

You hear Rollins sigh and you feel the buzz of your excitement grow.

“If you do, you’re the one having that conversation with Rumlow,” Rollins replies. “Not me.” Rollins gives you one last warning look before leaving. You watch the man’s retreating form and feel at ease when you see his hand come up to gingerly touch the spot where you hit him.

When you look back over at Nat, you find her pulling her dark gray sweatshirt over her head. The uncomfortable heat that sticks to your skin beneath your suit returns as you feel your hands begin to sweat inside your gloves. You ignore the information that attempts to clog up your visor. Your focus is first on the black sleeveless shirt she wears. The hem of the shirt gets caught briefly on her sweatshirt and lifts to reveal the barest hint of a firm ab. You blink when the shirt falls back down.

Nat sets her sweatshirt aside and steps onto the mats. “Are they always that serious around you?”

You nod, but you are not thinking about Rollins, or Rumlow, or how painfully serious both tend to be at all times. You are too consumed by the realization that you have never seen this much of your friend before. No. That wasn’t it. You can recall several old memories of warm summer days and cool lake water. But you hadn’t felt like this back then. You are staring at her lean biceps and you just want to touch her.

She steps forward. “Your missions with them must be fun.” She shifts into a fighting stance and raises her fists. “Let’s see what you can do.”

You raise your fists and shift your stance. Your smirk at your friend’s earlier sarcasm falls away as your visor’s screen identifies multiple places to strike first. You know what you want to do, but that option isn’t listed anywhere on the screen. If it wasn’t for Nat standing in front of you, you would have quickly returned to your sour, frustrated mood. But instead, you wait for her to strike first. A few moments pass and all you two do is slowly circle the mats. You realize that she’s waiting for you to strike first. A hint of your concealed smile returns. You happily oblige.

Your fist swings towards her, and you feel her arm quickly block your strike. Your focus is on her face, and you can tell that she barely had to think about her reaction. You continue to move in a slow circle and she does the same. You fall back into the training that Rumlow has been drilling into you since they freed you from that chair. You move in and strike. You frown slightly as she blocks or dodges every one of your strikes. It makes you feel like she’s in your mind. That she knew what you planned to do the exact same time you did. You retreat back a step when your fifth punch doesn’t land.

You wait for her to move in with her attack, but it doesn’t come. You know she can’t see your face, but it feels like she can when she offers a small shrug and that small smile creeps back in.

“I’m guessing that was your warm-up?”

You know it’s bait, but you take it anyway. You move in with another series of attacks. Every single one of your punches feels just as sluggish as before. The rhythm feels off. You feel like each attack is wrong. Your strikes aren’t landing and just as you are about to sink into the seething grip of your frustration, you see Nat’s fist coming towards you. Your hand catches her wrist before her fist can make contact with your helmet.

You watch as her brow arches in a silent question. You ignore the data that races across your visor’s screen and focus on the weight of her wrist in your hand. The familiarity of it lures out pieces of warmer memories. The touch of her hand taking yours. How her touch would melt the rigid cold left after early summer mornings with your father. You abandon the awkward dance you have been following. You can hear whispers of your father’s voice in the back of your mind as you take a breath and move.

Her wrist slips free before you can pull her towards you. She goes on the offensive and the attacks you block send you back a few steps. You spy her foot moving to hook behind yours and you maneuver away from that pitfall only to feel her fist connect with your side. The pain is barely there. You two are sparring. But it lights a very familiar fire inside of you.

You press forward with an onslaught of strikes that feel more natural. She continues to block most of them until you manage to slip past her defenses and successfully hook your foot behind hers. As you sweep her foot out from underneath her, her hands come up to latch onto the fabric of your stupid suit. She lets her falling body pull you down, and you both land on your side. Your one hand reaches to dislodge the grip she has on your suit while your other instinctively reaches out towards her neck. You feel her legs wrap around your waist and in one quick movement, you are on your back. Her hand stops yours from reaching her throat and pins it against the mat. She quickly pins your other hand to the mat, and you stare up at her as your heavy breaths fog up your interior visor.

She doesn’t let go of your hands as she looks down at you. You know all she can see is her own reflection staring back at her, and you want her to pull the stupid helmet off your head. You wouldn’t be breaking the rules if she exposed this game. But she doesn’t. Instead, she leans down just an inch or two closer and asks, “How do you feel about opera?”

You shrug.

Her smile returns as she finally lets go of your hands. She gets up and you instantly miss her warm weight on top of you. You sit up as she returns to where she left her sweatshirt. She digs into her sweatshirt’s pocket, pulls something out, and tosses it towards you. You catch it. You can feel another burst of excitement rush through you as you stare at the phone in your hand.

“That’s yours,” Nat says as she pulls her sweatshirt back on. “I thought it might be easier for us to communicate. I already loaded my number into your phone.”

You have her phone number. You don’t move from your spot on the mats as your fingers wrap tenderly around the phone. Direct access to your friend without needing to go through anyone else or jump through any additional hoops. It feels like you’re back in Ohio. All you need to do is cross the street, and she’s there waiting for you.

“I’ll be in contact soon,” she says as she moves towards the door. “Don’t put Rollins back in medical while I’m away.”

You watch her leave. You wait until she’s gone before you lean backwards onto the mat and let out a quiet, short laugh.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #my fanfic #fic: i swear that i don't have a gun

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Can you do a Winchester brothers (mostly Dean) x sister reader where she is captured but they tie her to an anchor and drown her and the boys have to save her and bring her back to life

Sounds of Someday

WHUMPTOBER DAY 24: Prompt: “I thought they were with you?”

Fandom: Supernatural.

Summary: the request pretty much says it all. When you and your brothers split up during an unusual hunt, you get caught and become part of a witch’s ritual, which ends with your life slipping away and your brothers struggling to reach you as you are dragged away.

Warnings: Drowning, blood, capturing, character death.

Word count: 2.3k

Note: thank you so much for requesting anon! This was really fun to write. I hope you don’t mind that I included it in my whumptober series, I thought it fit interestingly with todays prompt!

MAST ERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You and your brothers weren’t sure what you were hunting. There was no pattern- nothing set in stone to follow and every time you thought you had latched onto something in the lore, it would change unpredictably to something that contradicted what you’d just believed. At first, you thought it was a vampire. It had appeared out of nowhere, slinking in from the darkness. But then people started to go missing and the bodies were being discovered in strange ways: with nasty scratches, dark bruises or completely torn to shreds. Then, Sam led you on to believe it a spirit, looking to extract some sort of revenge. But you weren’t sure. Nothing was linear and it was making your head spin just thinking about it.

The town you were hunting in was quaint residence in the centre of Minnesota. It was surrounded by woodland and was fairly isolated from the rest of the world around it, making it the perfect stomping ground. It honestly surprised you that this place hadn’t cropped up before.

Your feet had begun to ache as you trudged slowly through the pine needles behind your brothers. You had a backpack slung over your shoulder which rattled as you hauled it higher up on your back. You had been walking for ages, training behind your older brothers who, given the fact they were much taller than you had managed to move at a much faster pace, having to take less steps due to their long strides. Sam had insisted that you stake out the woods in chance of finding something hidden nearby, but the area was vast and the three of you were yet to find anything in the hours of walking behind you. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon too, making it increasingly hard to gage your surroundings and keep your bearings.

“We should split up.” Sam said suddenly as you came to a fork in the path. It broke the silence that had gradually settled over you once you had run out of things to talk about.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What? Are you stupid, Sam?”

The tallest Winchester sighed deeply and slowed his pace to a stop. “We’re not going to find anything if we all huddle together. It’s getting dark and our best shot at finding something is if we split up.”

“That’s exactly my point, Sam. It’s getting dark and we don’t know what’s out there. Besides, there’s no way y/n is going out there on her own-“

“Y/n is old enough to go back to the motel alone-“

You scoffed, cutting him off with a stern look. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Y/n-“

“Dean.”

“You know we don’t like it when you go off alone-“

“I’m not a child, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

Your eldest brother let out a relenting sigh after shared an unspoken glance with Sam. The two of them had a habit of doing that. “Fine. But if you’re not back here within the hour then you’re in deep shit.”

You grinned, turning to head down the middle path.

“And y/n-“ Dean called out to you. You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Keep your phone on.”

You nodded and made your way down the trail. Dean didn’t move for a while. Something nagged at him, so he stood as you wandered off into the trees, watching you with careful eyes. Little did he know that he wasn’t the only one watching you.

You had been walking for sometime. Too long. The woods had thickened and the darkness made it impossibly hard to tell the path ahead from the path you’d just taken. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were lost. And to make matters worse you hadn’t even found anything useful. You had considered messaging Dean for help; but that would involve admitting that you were wrong and you knew that if you did that you wouldn’t hear the end of it. You were reluctant, but when you reached into your pocket to pull out the device, you found that it was missing. You then considered turning back, you knew something was wrong and it was nearing an hour since you had left and were due to rendezvous with your brothers, so you would be able to reach them without worrying them…but that was when it caught your eye.

Dangling limply from a brunch, a piece of blood-splattered cloth hung. It was fresh, still dripping blood onto the muddy ground below it. It looked as though it had snagged on a branch. You reached out to collect it in between your fingers, turning it over slowly as your examined it. When you went to pocket it, there was a loud snap of a branch to your left.

Almost mechanically you had dropped the cloth and replaced it with the cool hilt of your pistol. You were on high alert, searching for the source of the sound. Then came other to your right. And then behind you.

You were surrounded.

You didn’t know where to direct your attention, whipping around to find your best course of action. But whoever or whatever was tailing you was smart and clearly outnumbered you.

Someone tackled you from the side, forcing you to the ground with a sickening thud. You screamed, startled. Delivering an upwards kick, you tried to throw the woman off of you, but her grip was firm as she rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head and straddling your waist. There was another pair of hands working a rope around your feet and other around your hands. You tried to squirm, kick and scream, but a harsh slap left you disorientated as a gag was forced around your mouth.

Sam came to a halt at the rendezvous point. He was a few minutes late and was met with an antsy looking Dean, who was pacing and constantly glancing at the time displayed on his phone screen. Sam could see the gun he had loosely planted in his jean pocket.

Dean turned at the sound of footsteps approaching, but he was in no way revived. In fact the sight made his chest constrict. Sam was alone.

“Where is she?” Dean demanded, crossing the space between him and his younger brother in two large strides.

Sam furrowed his brow. “I thought she was with you?”

“No.” Dean fumbled in his pocket to bring up your contact number. “She texted me. She said she had found you and that she was gonna…”

Dean trailed off when Sam flashed up his screen to reveal an identical message. They had been played.

“Son of a bitch.”

“You think she did this?” Sam asked. It wasn’t something entirely out of character for you. You would often trick your brothers into getting what you wanted, or simply just for some peace and quiet.

“I-“

All ideas were cut short at the sound of a shrill scream, that caused both brother’s hearts to falter. Your scream. They would recognise your voice in a crowd of a thousand. Neither of them wasted any time as they darted towards the sound.

You had managed to make out three of them as they began to drag you through the woods over bumps. The pine needles gathered in your hair and clung to your clothes to poke at your skin. You knew that your brothers would realise quickly that something was wrong. It was hardwired into them. But one of them was doing something with your phone which you could only assume she had managed to snatch from your pocket somewhere along your trek.

You could only watch as they dragged you into a clearing. You were grateful when the upturned roots morphed into grass. The lake glistened under the moonlight and the start sky. It was the type of serene scene that you and your brothers would pull up at and sit on the roof of the Impala just to revel in the quiet. The thought only made the situation seem even sicker. When the women hauled you onto a dock, you sensed two more people lingering nearby. One of them held a weighted book and the other a set of chains fastened to what looked like some sort of anchor.

Your eyes flew open when the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. They were witches. And you were part of their spell. You tried to dig the heels of your boots into the wooden slats and scrabble away, but one of them landed a kick to your stomach and dragged you closer again, hauling you up onto your feet and holding you tightly in their grasp.

One raised your hand, biting into it with a silver dagger and then squeezing it into a chalice. You’re screamed and bit into the gag. Then they began to chant. Old, foreign words that rang throughout your ears. But nothing stayed. Your mind was too hazy as your blood dribbled out of the wound. After the final word had been spoken, one of the male witches snatched you away and pushed you towards the edge of the dock. The water was dark and endless below you and you tried to teeter away from the edge but you were in a vulnerable position and with one wicked smirk and another chorus of chanting, you were sent tumbling over the edge and into the water. But not before you hear the faintest whisper of your name carried across in the wind.

There’s something irresistably poetic about drowning. You weren’t sure if it was the way that time slows to nothing the moment your body it’s the icy water, or the way that it was so quiet under the surface, but there was something about it.

Well, that was until you watched the bubbles escape from your mouth and your nose, rising up to the surface and the dissipating. You tried to kick the binds way, flailing to gain some traction on the water and pull yourself up the the surface so that you could take a desperate gasp of air, but the binds rendered you powerless as the anchor dragged you down down down into inky nothingness. Your lungs burned as you struggled to retain what precious air you had left in your lungs, jerking and twisting to try and get free, but the struggling left you tired and soon the last of the air rose from your mouth. The water assaulted your eyes too, blurring your vision even through there wasn’t much to see besides the white light of the moon above.

Somewhere above your there was a loud splash as Dean delved deep into the water, scrambling after you. He had watched in horror as your body pummelled off the side. He didn’t think he could urge is legs to go any faster as he ran next to Sam who helped him make quick work of taking down the witches. Once the odds had been evened Dean took the plunge after you.

His body nearly went into shock against the stabbing of the cold, but he paid no mind to it as he watched your body sink at an alarming rate. Your hair drifted around you like a halo as he urged his body forwards to catch up with you.

Somehow he managed to wrap a calloused hand around yours. He pulled you to his chest, palling at your stillness, and fumbled to release you from the anchor. Once the heavy weight was gone, he gave one hard kick after pushing your body so that it could drift to the surface, following closely behind and ignoring the burn in his chest.

When his head broke the surface the took a huge, spluttering gulp of air, sucking it in greedily. But you didn’t move. You didn’t squirm to keep yourself afloat, your chest rise and fall, you didn’t even blink.

Dean was then paddling his way over you you, lifting your body so that Sam, who was clinging to the edge of the dock with an outstretched hand could pull you into land.

“Come on!” He urged, gripping you under the armpits and pulling you back onto try land. Dean was inches behind, silently praying that you would be okay. But your heart had stopped.

“No. No no no.” Dean cried at your stillness. “Come on y/n. You don’t get to do this to us.”

He hovered over you, locking his hands in place to begin CPR.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He pleaded, breathing into your mouth. He could feel the resistance in your lungs. His chest tightened further.

“Dean-“ Sam’s voice wavered as he laid a hand on his shoulders.

“No. Shut up Sammy.” He shook his head and blinked away the tears and he pressed harder against your chest, winching at the sound of them splintering beneath the force of his compressions. “She’s fine. She’s fine.”

“Dean…”

You sat up abruptly, heaving a wet cough as you keeled over expelled the water from your lungs. Dean patted your back to help. Everything hurt, your head, your joints, your lungs.

“That’s it, kid. Let it all out.”

“They… they-“ you tried to speak, but your voice was horse and scared so it came out more like a whimper. You took in deep breaths.

Dean cradled you to his chest, rocking you back and fourth in his arms as you sobbed, shivering from the cold and the shock.

“You’re okay, kid.” Sam tried to reassure you.

“We’re here y/n. We will always protect you, no matter what. And as long as you are here, we will always keep you safe. I promise.”

<- DAY 23 ⛤ DAY 25 ->

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

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davidjamesuk · 1 day ago

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David James ( Running Man UK ) 🇬🇧

#baseball cap #blonde guy #nike sports hoody #backpack #nike compression shorts #nike #woodland #nature #gunners pool bridge

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thewildsophia · 1 year ago

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.Wild Child. Moominvalley//Snufkin x Reader

Snufkin x Winged!Reader

A/n: This fic took so damn long to make my GOD- It's been 2 years in the making, but I'm so glad to finally be finished with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Word Count: 12884

Living your life outside in the wild had left you somewhat…feral.

You weren’t aggressive, quite the opposite in fact, you just didn’t quite understand the way that people worked, and it very much showed. You often stayed away from others, worried that they would harm you. Your understanding of speech was limited, so you often just mimicked what others have said before you in hopes that you’ll be able to understand it one day.

You vaguely remember being raised by your parents up until the ripe old age of 3. After that, they took you out somewhere in the woods before placing you down and leaving. From then on, it had just been you and the occasional animal or being that decided to help you out.

You weren’t completely sure why they had left you, but you assumed that it had to do with your wings. That’s right, you had wings; much like a bird’s. Decorated with white and pale gold feathers, they were powerful enough to lift you high above the ground and allowed you to travel to all the different lands that your heart desired.

As of right now, you were heading somewhere warm as the area you were currently in was beginning to become cold again, the telltale sign that winter was approaching in that area. You remembered seeing on someone’s map that there was an area just south of where you currently were that would be spring this time of year, so you decided to fly there for the time being.

It took you a few days, but you eventually arrived in a small valley-like area that was covered in forest life. Large Birch and Oak trees covered the area as you did your initial fly-by to get affiliated with the place, which made it a bit difficult to get a good visual of the area. In addition to that, the wind here was much stronger than what you were used to and you knew that trying to fly against it would tire you out quicker.

You decided it would be best if you flew lower to the ground. However, because of the size of the trees, your flight was limited significantly. Eventually, you just opted to hop from treetop to treetop, using your wings to help when encountering a particularly large jump.

It was then that you spotted a man below you wearing a green hat and coat, along with a yellow scarf and a large brown backpack. The thing that intrigued you the most about him was that he looked a lot like you. All the other people you had met resembled woodland creatures and animals as opposed to yourself. He even walked the same way you did sometimes!

Curious, you began to follow him as quietly as possible. The sun was beginning to set when he stopped and began to set up, what appeared to you to be, some kind of small home. While trying to get a closer look at what he was doing, you leaned a little too far forward on the branch you were standing on and almost fell. Much to your dismay, the sound of you scrambling to get back up alerted the man. He looked over at the trees to where you were, but his eyes glossed over your form as they passed through the tree line.

“Hello?” He called out. His voice was soft and smooth, but loud enough to be heard from a distance.

You held your breath and remained silent, hoping that he’d just go back to what he was previously doing. He took one last glance before sitting back down in front of the fire he had made. As he was sitting, a strong gust of wind blew by, taking the man’s hat with it.

“Hey!” He shouted while reaching out to grab it, missing it by a few inches. The hat blew past your direction and into the dark woods. You watched as he chased after it until he reached the tree line. He sighed before turning back and sitting near the fire. He sat there frying a fish while sulking, most definitely being upset about his hat.

Feeling bad for him, you decide to go looking for it. You quietly left the area before dropping down to the forest floor and looking for his hat. Your vision was a lot better than most people’s, but even with that advantage, it was going to be a bit difficult looking for a green hat amongst flowers, grass, weeds, and other various plant life.

Like you predicted, it took a while -- you’re not sure how long exactly -- before you found what you were looking for. You got back up on the trees before heading over to where the man was settled. To your surprise, he was still awake and playing some kind of tune.

You haven’t heard much music throughout your life, but the little that you did hear you liked, and this was perhaps your favorite. You stayed there for a while, crouched on one of the tree branches, just listening to him before you decided to return what was his. Slowly, you descended the tree you were perched on and began to walk over to him, standing straight. You didn’t walk much, but when you did you crouched, remaining close to the ground. You only did that so that you’d always be ready to take flight if needed.

He must have heard your descent because he looked over in your direction and spoke.

“Hello?” He called out again. Your steps stuttered a bit as you hesitated before you came into the light of his fire. He stood from where he was sitting; his brown eyes met your E/C ones as you two stared at the other for a moment. His gaze made your wings twitch under your cloak.

Now looking at him in the light, you noted that he wasn’t a man, but instead a boy around your age, if not a few years younger. Brown locks of hair framed his face perfectly as you watched his eyes study your form. He was so beautiful and his body looked so much like yours. Was he one of your kind? What even were you?

“Can I help you?” He asked. You snapped out of your thoughts and held his hat out in front of him.

“Is…for you,” You mumbled, trying to find the right words. He seemed shocked but took his hat nonetheless.

“My, thank you very much,” He said, fixing it upon his head and covering his beautiful hair, “I didn’t think I’d see it again.” He added with a smile. You smiled yourself before he put his hand out towards you, making you take a step back.

“I’m Snufkin, a pleasure to meet you,” He, Snufkin, said with his hand still extended. You looked at his hand and then back up at him.

“Snufkin?” You repeated, pointing at him.

“Yes, that’s right,” He confirmed, “And you are?”

“Y/N,” You said, pointing to yourself. Snufkin’s extended hand fell back to his side as he spoke.

“Well, Y/N, would you like to sit by the fire with me? As a thanks for you returning my hat?” Snufkin asked, making a vague gesture for you to sit down with him. You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion as to what he was asking. You stared at him expectantly before his smile dropped.

“Y/N?” He asked. You hummed in acknowledgment and walked over to him but didn’t sit down. You looked down at him, waiting for what he had to say.

“Do you want to join me?” He asked again.

“Do you want to join me?” You mimicked, smiling. Snufkin furrowed his eyebrows before patting the seat next to him saying,

“Sit.”

You complied and sat next to him on the log. You noted the small setup above the fire, some sort of large pot being just above the open flame. He pulled out two small, wooden bowls and handed you one of them. He used a spoon to move some of the liquid from the pot and into the small bowls. You stared at your, now full, bowl before looking over at Snufkin to see what he was doing with it. You watched as he dipped the spoon into the bowl before lifting it to his mouth, gently blowing on it before eating it.

“What?” You asked, pointing to your bowl. Snufkin looks over at you.

“What was that?” He asked. You hummed before repeating,

“What…this?” You specified. Snufkin looks at you confused before answering you.

“It’s stew,” He said, not looking away from you. You still didn’t understand.

“Stew?” You asked.

“Stew. It’s a type of soup. I just used some of the various plants I found, along with some meat.” He explained. You continued to look at him, face scrunched in confusion.

“Y/N,” He said, pulling your attention, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You stared at him, face blank before he sighed.

“You eat it, like this,” He said, lifting the bowl to his lips and gently pouring it into his mouth and drinking it. When you sat there staring at him, he gently moved the bowl in your hand and lifted it to your lips, doing the same with his own bowl. He then took a sip from his bowl. As understanding washed over you, you took the bowl into both of your hands before taking a sip of it.

It was so good! You had never tasted anything this good before.

You smiled, giggling lightly, as you pulled the bowl away from your lips, your bare feet rubbing against the dirt in delight. Your wings had puffed up a bit before you stretched them a bit under your cloak, catching the attention of Snufkin. Glancing over, you noticed his eyes were fixed on the back of your cloak. You moved the bowl to one hand as your other one moved your cloak aside, exposing your wings to the chilly night air.

“Oh, wow,” Snufkin mumbled as you rolled your shoulders, stretching your wings out a bit more. It was always a bit uncomfortable keeping them in the same position for a long period of time. You took another sip of the ‘stew’ when you flinched, feeling something brush up against your wings.

“Oh, sorry,” Snufkin apologized, noticing your discomfort, “Did I hurt you?” He asked.

“Hurt me?” You asked. You shook your head ‘no,’ moving your wing closest to him towards him, “Okay.” You say.

“Can I touch them?” Snufkin asked, his hands hovering above them still unsure of what to do.

“Touch them,” You repeated, stretching your wing towards him. His hands were warm on the chilled appendage and were gentle not to pull any of the pale-colored feathers. You quietly hummed in delight, a small smile gracing your lips as you closed your eyes and rested the bowl in your lap. This felt surprisingly nice.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before,” Snufkin mumbled. “You’re incredible.”

Those words made you feel strange even if you didn’t quite understand them. Not in a bad way, the opposite really. You felt warm and didn’t want to leave him. Still, his words muddled you and you turned to him confused.

“You…like me?” You said pointing to the back of his coat.

“Oh, no,” He said, moving his hands to trace the back of his coat, “I don’t have…wings.”

You hummed in acknowledgment before moving your cloak back in place over your wings to protect them from the cold. You finished the last of your food before placing the bowl on the ground and warming yourself up by the fire. You were close to falling asleep when you heard Snufkin shuffling beside you. He had grabbed the bowls and was running them through the water in the stream nearby. When he returned, he dried them off using some cloth before placing them in his bag and putting them in his little home.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” Snufkin asked, “I have some extra room in my tent.” He added, pointing to his ‘tent.’

“Yes,” You said, shaking your head, “Have…somewhere.” You specified, standing up and stretching.

“Take-Thank…” You stuttered, trying to remember the words, “Thank…”

“‘Thank you?’” Snufkin said.

“Yes!” You shouted, smiling, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He said, entering his tent, “Good night.” He whispered before closing the tent completely.

“Good…night,” You mumbled. You stared at the tent for a moment, a small smile still on your lips, before flying over to the small forest again. You turned to look back at the small setup before searching for a good tree to perch in for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you went to check for him the next day in the area he was previously at, he was not there. A little disappointed, you continued on with your day. While looking for a stream to find some fish at, you spot Snufkin sitting on a bridge. In his hand, he had a long stick with, what you thought to be, a string attached to the end of it. The end of the string was submerged in the water.

Perching on the railing of the bridge, you called out to the brunette.

“Snufkin,” You said, smiling. Your smile faltered when you heard him yelp and turn around with wide eyes. He calmed down when he recognized you.

“Y/N,” He whispered, still breathing a bit heavily, “You startled me…” He said, readjusting his position and looking back at the water. You jumped off the railing and sat next to Snufkin.

“How did you get here without me knowing?” He asked, glancing over at you. You pointed up at the sky.

“Oh, yeah,” Snufkin whispered.

“What doing?” You asked, pointing to the stick in his hand.

“I’m fishing,” He answered. You tilt your head to the side and hum.

“Fishing?” You repeated.

“Yes, fishing,” Snufkin repeated, “Using a fishing rod, I’m catching fish to eat.” He explained slowly. You furrow your eyebrows before walking off of the bridge. You removed your cloak and rolled your brown pants up to your mid-thighs before walking into the water. The water was cooler than you expected, but you quickly got used to it.

“What are you doing?” Snufkin asked with a small smile. You pressed a finger to your lip telling him to be quiet and stood there as still as you could, feeling for the fish. When you felt a large enough one pass close to you, you quickly grabbed it, digging your nails into the soft flesh making sure it wouldn’t get away. Pulling it out of the water, you flew over to the bridge next to Snufkin and held the fish out to him.

“Fish!” You shouted, smiling. Snufkin looked at you surprised before placing his rod to the side and taking the fish from you. It struggled around in his hands as he grabbed it.

“I-Wow. That was…impressive, Y/N.” Snufkin said, still bewildered. You smiled wider before returning to the water. You walked around a bit before finding a good spot.

“For me…” You murmured as you waited. Your concentration was broken when you heard a hiss-like sound come from Snufkin. Turning to him you note that he wasn’t making that noise, but instead the ‘fishing rod’ that he was pulling on. When he finished struggling with the rod, he held up a fish that was attached to the end of the string, still flopping around.

“For you,” Snufkin said, patting the spot next to him. You flew over to him before he handed you the fish he had just caught. You shuffled off of the bridge before looking around for a small sharp rock to use. You felt Snufkin’s eyes on you as you did so, but you didn’t mind all that much.

Once you found a rock that would work, you crouched down in front of the fish and struck it hard in the head before cleaning it. You used the rock to scrape off the fish’s scales, then rinsed the fish one more time in the water before taking a bite of it. You had torn a piece of it off when you heard Snufkin shout.

“Wait-What are you doing?” He exclaimed, rushing towards you. You backed away from him and groaned when he reached a hand out towards the fish still in your mouth. He pulled his hand away saying,

“You need to cook it first,” He said, worry still etched on his face. You hummed in confusion, removing the fish from your mouth.

“Cook?” You asked. Snufkin sighed before standing back up.

“Here, come with me,” He said, motioning for you to follow him. Hesitantly, you got up and followed him to a small clearing. There, he set up a small fire using dead leaves and small twigs. Much like you did, he prepped the fish by removing the scales, but then cut the belly of it, removing its insides. Something else noteworthy was that, unlike the sharp rock you had used, he had grabbed a piece of metal and cleaned the fish out.

“What…that?” You asked, pointing to the long, thin piece of metal. Snufkin hummed before explaining.

“It’s a pocket knife. It’s made of metal and has a sharp edge here which allows you to cut things.” He said, showing the knife to you. You tapped the metal of it with your nail and hummed in thought before pulling your hand back.

“May I have your fish?” He asked, pointing to the fish next to you. You scrunch your face and groan. You thought about it for a moment before giving it to him.

“Thank you,” He said, cutting the stomach of it. You watched his movements curiously. After he finished scraping the insides of the fish out, he stuck a long stick through them and held them over the fire.

“Trust me,” He whispered, drawing your attention away from the fire and to him, “This will taste much better. And will lower the risk of you getting sick.” He added, smiling. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but you returned his smile nonetheless. You were curious to learn what other words he knew.

“What…this,” You mumbled, pointing to his hat. He looked up.

“Oh, that’s my hat,” Snufkin said, not taking his focus off of the fish.

“Hat?” You repeated, unsure.

“Yes, that’s right,” He smiled. You hummed before tugging gently at the end of his coat.

“What this?” You ask again.

“My coat,” He answered.

“Coat…” You whispered, “Cooooooat.” He laughed lightly at that.

“Yup,” He giggled. You hummed again and scooted closer to him. He looked at you shocked before drawing his attention to your next question.

“What this?” You asked, placing your foot next to his. You were pointing at his feet this time.

“…My shoes,” He muttered, not looking away from you. The way that the sunlight shown down through your H/C lashes and illuminated your S/C skin, bouncing off of your airy feathers really did make you look beautiful, angelic. He wanted so badly to run his hands through your wings, remember very vividly just how soft they were, but felt it rude to ask. Feeling his face warm up, Snufkin pushed the thought to the back of his head while clearing his throat.

You continued asking him the names of various items surrounding the two of you before he pulled the fish out from the fire. He placed them on a piece of cloth and rested them in his lap. You reached out to grab your fish before Snufkin stopped out.

“Wait, they’re still too warm,” He said, holding a hand out in front of you. You groaned at him before grabbing the fish anyway.

You immediately regretted the action when a searing, burning sensation blossomed in your hand.

“Ah!” You shouted, dropping the fish and backing away. Snufkin was quick to catch it and place it back with the other, muttering a small ‘ow’ of his own.

“I told you, it’s still too hot,” Snufkin said, a bit irritated.

“Why?” You asked surprised, “Fish cold. Why hot now?” You specified, looking over at his lap and at the fish. Snufkin raised his eyebrows at that.

“Fire is hot,” He said matter-of-factly. He grabbed your hand and held it close to the fire, allowing you to feel the gentle warmth it gave off. You hummed in confusion, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“Okay,” He said, shifting his position and facing his body towards you, “Fire is hot. Fire makes other things hot.” He explained simply. You stared at him then at the fire. He was about to say something else when you spoke.

“Fire make…fish hot?” You asked, still a little unsure.

“Yes, exactly,” Snufkin praised, smiling. You shook your head slowly as you began to understand. You crawled back over to where you were previously sitting next to Snufkin, cradling your tender hand.

“Here,” Snufkin said, digging around in his backpack for a moment. When he finished, he showed you a small container that held a thick, clear liquid, “Give me your hand.” He said, holding out one of his. You placed your hand in his palm up when he applied a small amount of the liquid to your hand. You fought not to pull your hand away as your hand began to sting again.

“There,” Snufkin said, letting your hand go, “That should help it heal.” You hummed in acknowledgment before looking back at the fire. Snufkin shifted beside you, but you paid him no mind.

“Here you go,” He called out, tapping your shoulder. He placed the fish that was on a piece of cloth onto your lap. You flinched, thinking that it was going to burn you again but were shocked when you felt no such thing.

“You can eat it now; It’s cooled down enough,” Snufkin explained, taking a bite of his own. You gingerly picked up the fish before taking a small bite of it.

You hummed in delight and smiled, kicking your feet in the dirt a little. Snufkin looked at you smiling.

“It tastes better, doesn’t it?” He asked, taking another bite of his fish.

“Good,” You mumbled. You continued eating in silence with him. When the two of you had finished, you discarded the remains before standing up. You patted both of his shoulders with your hands saying,

“Stay,”

With that, you flew off.

You flew over to the woods you were previously homed in, searching for a certain kind of plant you had spotted during your initial fly-by. You foraged around on the ground for close to 10 minutes before you found what you were looking for: Elderberries. You gathered them in the cloth that Snufkin had given to you and flew back to him.

As you were approaching the area you had left him in, you heard music, much like the kind you heard last night. It was lovely.

When you touched down you noticed that Snufkin was blowing into some kind of metal object that was making the music you heard. Noticing your return, he stopped playing and looked towards you. You sprinted towards him and knelt down next to him smiling.

“So, why did you want me to wait here?” Snufkin asked, looking down at you. You gently placed the cloth in his lap, making sure its contents wouldn’t fall out, and pressed your face against the log next to him.

“Thank you,” You said. He looked at what you had given shocked before saying,

“Where on Earth did you manage to find Elderberries?” He looked down at you surprised, only receiving a smile from you in response.

“Well, wherever you managed to find these, thank you,” Snufkin said, running his warm hands through your hair.

Oh, that felt good. You hummed in delight as Snufkin continued to stroke your hair. You had never been this close to another being. He was so gentle with you that it almost made you cry. You were so used to people fighting you or trying to get you away from them that Snufkin’s attitude was such a shock to you.

You sat there, head in his lap, as he continued to stroke your hair and talked about anything that came to his mind. You perked up when you heard a voice in the distance from where you two were.

“Snufkin!” The voice shouted. Looking in that direction, you saw a white figure of sorts. It didn’t seem to have a very solid body shape like you and Snufkin had, instead looking more like a blob than a person. The figure was approaching surprisingly fast and, out of instinct, you stood up.

“Y/N?” Snufkin asked as you stared at the figure. The figure met your eyes and that’s what got you moving. You groaned, afraid, before turning and taking flight in the opposite direction, into the forest.

You heard Snufkin call out again to you, but you didn’t go back, you didn’t even look back. You felt a little bad leaving as suddenly as you did, but you didn’t know if you could trust that strange figure, so it’s better safe than sorry.

In the safety of the forest’s dense canopy, you watched the two of them interact. The white figure said something to Snufkin, pointing to the forest you were in. Snufkin said something in reply, but you obviously couldn’t make it out. You groaned quietly before turning and flying deeper into the forest, away from the unknown figure.

~~~~~~~~~~

You had spent the next few weeks visiting Snufkin when he was alone. Most of the time he seemed happy to see you and would ask you to join him in whatever activity he was doing. However, on the few times you did visit him and he was a bit persnickety you’d leave soon after not wanting to bother him.

During those weeks, Snufkin had taught you more words and how to form better sentences. Your speech was nowhere near perfect, but you found it much easier to convey your thoughts, which also made it easier for him to understand you.

Currently, you sat on the bridge in the late afternoon with Snufkin as he showed you how to fish. After a while of listening to him explain how to use a fishing rod and when to reel it in, you deemed it too complicated before rolling up your pants and stepping into the water.

The two of you fished in comfortable silence before Snufkin spoke up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Snufkin began. You looked over at him, “What’s it like to fly?”

That question caught you off guard.

Very rarely did Snufkin ask you things and they were usually easy things to answer. This, however, would be a bit difficult.

You hummed in thought, not sure what to say.

“It is…nice. Refreshing,” You said after thinking about it for a moment, “It’s like…when you go out on a walk.” You added. You really didn’t know how to explain this.

Snufkin hummed and continued fishing with a small frown. You walked out of the water, shaking the water off of your legs, and over to Snufkin. You crouched next to him on the bridge and removed his hat.

“What are you doing?” He asked, letting you take the fishing rod from his hand. You reel in the line before placing it next to his hat. You got closer to him, there only being a few inches between you two, and gently grabbed his hands, wrapping them around your neck. You then wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your chests flush against the other.

“W-Wha…?” Snufkin whispered, face red, as you held onto him tightly. Snufkin understood what you were trying to do when you jumped onto the railing of the bridge.

“Ah, w-wait!” He shouted, but his plea fell upon deaf ears. You push off of the railing and extend your wings, allowing the wind to help you into the air. You winced as Snufkin screamed next to your ear, his legs wrapping around your waist to secure himself to you.

“No-I don’t like this!” He shouted, pressing his face into your shoulder. You laughed lightly, flying up a bit higher. You flew relatively low to the ground -- or at least as low as you could due to the trees -- so as not to frighten him too much.

“You will like,” You said, continuing to glide around. You couldn’t move as fast as normal, not as high, but he didn’t need to know that. After letting him get used to the air, you called out to him.

“Hey, look,” You whispered. Snufkin pulled his face away from your shoulder and looked out into the sky. He hummed as he looked around.

“Oh, wow,” He sighed, eyes glancing all over the sky. You smiled softly at the look of awe and amazement on his face. The way that the wind blew through his brown hair and how the light bounced off of his flawless, sun-kissed skin made him look heavenly, absolutely lovely. Your stomach felt warm, chest tight, and you were sure it wasn’t just from Snufkin’s body. You squeezed him a little tighter when you felt your grip loosen slightly, worried you might drop him.

You looked away, face warm, and focused on flying instead. Snufkin shifted in your arms slightly to look at everything better.

“Do you do this every day?” Snufkin asked, pulling your attention from your thoughts and to him, “Fly, I mean.” He specified.

“Yes,” You answered, “It how I go most places.”

“What an amazing gift you have,” He mumbled. You were sure you weren’t meant to hear it, but it flattered you all the same. For a good part of your life, you resented having wings. A part of you always thought that your parents got rid of you because you weren’t like most “human” children, you had wings. You were amazed at how much power a single sentence from Snufkin had over you; how those six, simple words almost brought you to tears. You smiled softly, saying,

“I guess so.”

The rest of your flight was silent, the only noise being that of the wind in your ears and the songs of distant forest animals. You flew around with Snufkin for another few minutes before you felt the strain in your wings, the stress of carrying another person finally getting to you. You turned back to the bridge and made your descent.

You landed on the bridge, next to where you had left Snufkin’s things, but didn’t let go of the other quite yet. Your wings were trembling due to the stress of carrying him and you were panting slightly with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Snufkin asked, rubbing your lower back. You hummed a ‘yes’ while pulling away from the other. When you parted, he continued to hold your hand.

“Not used to carry…person,” You explained, breathless.

“Why don’t I make you something while you rest? You deserve it after all,” Snufkin offered, retrieving his discarded item and walking off of the bridge, having you follow him.

“Sounds…good,” You said, sitting down on the ground. You watched Snufkin rummage around in his bag for a bit before you lay down on your side. You felt unbelievably tired. You had never worked yourself this hard before.

The last thing you remember seeing was Snufkin striking a fire.

You were awoken by Snufkin gently shaking your shoulder sometime later, telling you that the food was ready. The sun had already set and twilight was upon you. You smiled as you sat up and stretched; it seemed a short nap was all you needed.

Snufkin handed you a bowl of stew and a spoon before sitting down next to you. It was similar to the first one he had made for you the first night you met. The two of you ate quietly before Snufkin spoke up.

“Thank you,” He whispered, making you turn to him confused, “For sharing that experience with me.” You pulled the bowl away from your face and smiled.

“Thank you…for joining me,” You said, “I had fun.”

You finished your dinner in silence once more before rinsing out your bowl in the nearby stream (you noted a while ago that this was something Snufkin did) and handing the bowl to Snufkin. He thanked you before placing the items in his bag and extinguishing the fire. Snufkin placed his bag in the tent that he set up. You were about to wish him a good night and fly off somewhere for the night when he spoke up.

“Would you care to stay with me tonight?” Snufkin asked, pulling aside one of the flaps of his tent. You shook your head saying,

“Oh, no,” You smiled, “I know you like, um…privacy.” You hesitated, not sure if you used the right words, “I no want to bother.”

“You wouldn’t be a bother,” Snufkin rebuttal quickly, looking at you expectantly. You stared into his brown eyes before turning away from him. You knew that he was just trying to be courteous; he never liked being around people for too long.

“Good night,” You said, waving, before taking flight. You didn’t fail to notice the slight relief that washed over Snufkin’s face as you pushed off of the ground and flew deep into the dense forest for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snufkin had invited you to go, what he called, ‘Mushroom Hunting” with him. You had injured your left leg a few days prior due to having fallen out of a tree while sleeping. It left a nasty gash on the less meaty and more bony part of your ankle, which was making it difficult to walk around. Despite having cleaned it off in a nearby stream soon after injury, it hadn’t been healing that much and instead seemed to be getting worse.

You carried on, however, and joined Snufkin in his hunt for mushrooms.

It was a much warmer summer day and when you went to visit Snufkin, you noted the changes to his outfit. He had left his coat with the rest of his things -- in one of the more secluded areas so others wouldn’t find it -- and switched out his cream-colored shirt with a green one. His usual green pants were rolled up about mid-calf while he wore the same brown boots, his yellow scarf tied into a loose knot around his hat.

Something about seeing him so dressed down made you feel light. You felt warmth in parts of your body that were normally cold like your hands and feet and your muscles were tense. Your stomach fluttered, but not in the same way it would when you flew, and your chest felt almost uncomfortably tight. Almost.

“You ready?” Snufkin asked. His voice was as smooth and serene, calming as always. It never failed to give you a sense of tranquility and safety.

“Yes,” You said, walking to the best of your ability beside the other. You had been limping a little since yesterday, but it didn’t concern you too much. You wrapped the injury up with some discarded cloth to prevent anything from hitting or getting into it.

The two of you walked around in the densely populated forest, looking near the base of trees and cracks of rocks for mushrooms and other wild plants. You didn’t find that many edible mushrooms -- the majority of them hen-of-the-woods or oyster mushrooms with the occasional sulphur shelf mushroom -- but you did find a lot of other plants.

Snufkin was careful when harvesting the mushrooms, cutting them at their base and placing them in the small cloth bag he brought with him.

Snufkin had asked that you look for other kinds of plants and after he gave you a bag you were off on your own. You found a good amount of plants like dandelions and purple dead nettles that you would be able to brew into tea, along with others like milkweeds, lily shoots, yarrows, violets, and nettles. Your bag was barely able to hold everything.

You looked for Snufkin only 10-ish minutes after leaving his side.

“Back!” You shouted when you spotted him. He turned to you and waved you over. You limped over to him as fast, and smoothly, as you could, which was something Snufkin noted. He frowned as you approached him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, grabbing the bag you offered to him.

“I’m okay,” You lied, picking a small, yellow flower nearby. You honestly felt awful; Your leg ached and your head hurt, along with feeling warmer than usual. But you didn’t want to ruin Snufkin’s day, knowing that he had been looking forward to going foraging with you.

“Are you sure?” Snufkin asked, gently holding one of your hands, “You’re limping.” He added, looking down at your leg.

“I’m sure,” You answered, pulling yourself away from him and tucking the flower into the scarf that was around his hat, “Keep looking.”

Snufkin’s eyes lingered on you a little longer before he looked away and sighed.

“Alright,” He said, following you.

You continued to look around the forest for various plant life with Snufkin before resting below a tree for a moment. You quietly conversed with Snufkin for a few minutes until your voice faded off before going silent. At first, you just had a minor headache, but now it felt like someone was constantly hitting you against both of your temples and your ankle was starting to throb. The ache in your chest was also making it a bit difficult for you to breathe properly. Snufkin quickly took notice.

“Y/N?” He asked, resting his hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

You were about to respond with another ‘I’m okay’ when you gasped in pain, clutching at your ankle as another wave of pain coursed through it.

“What’s-” Snufkin said fearfully, his hand hovering over yours as he looked over you. He placed a hand on your forehead and grimaced, “Goodness, you’re burning up.”

“I-I’m…” You tore your head away from Snufkin’s grasp and attempted to stand up. You groaned in pain and fell back down against the boulder you two were previously leading on, cradling your injured leg. Snufkin looked down at your leg, placing a gentle hand on the makeshift bandages.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Fell…” You groaned, tugging at the wrappings.

Snufkin, noticing your struggle, hooked a finger underneath the bloodstained cloth and unwrapped it. He gasped at the sight that greeted him.

“Oh, Y/N…” Snufkin whispered, covering his mouth with one of his hands. The wound had opened up again, no doubt because of you overextending it, and was bleeding quite a bit. Your ankle was red and swollen and hurt like all hell.

“When did you do this?” Snufkin questioned quickly, digging through his pockets for the few bandages that he always kept on him. You didn’t answer. He hesitated while pulling them out, looking over the wound more, before sighing and leaving them where they were.

“I think it’s infected,” Snufkin said, moving your leg around slightly, causing you to groan. He apologized, patting your thigh sympathetically, “There’s not much I can do until we get it sterilized.”

You furrowed your brows at the unfamiliar word, continuing to cradle your leg. Snufkin stood up, holding out a hand to you.

“Can you walk?” Snufkin asked. You bit your lip before taking Snufkin’s hand and standing up.

“Here, come with me,” He added.

You whined as you tried to put weight on your left leg, pulling it back up as a searing pain ran up all the way from your ankle up to your thigh. You flutter above the ground, hand still in Snufkin’s, as you allow Snufkin to lead you out of the forest area.

“I know a few people who can help you,” Snufkin said as you two reached the clearing where his things were left. It felt as if a heavy weight had pressed down into your stomach as he said those words. You pulled away from him, feet hitting the ground as you quickly exclaimed,

“No! No others-” You forced the words out of your mouth, hugging yourself and backing away slightly from him, “They-They’ll hurt!”

“What?” Snufkin asked, taken aback by your words. Never in his life would he expect someone to suggest that the Moomins would hurt someone without just cause, “They would never! The Moomins are very kind beings. They’ll help you, no questions asked!” He said, taking a step closer to you. You backed up, body tense. His honey-brown, almost amber, eyes stared into your E/C ones, practically begging you to come with him. You turned away.

“N-No…” You mumbled. Snufkin sighed, running his hand through the hair that wasn’t covered by his hat.

“Fine, fine, just…” He muttered, his voice trailing off in thought, “I’ll set up my tent and see what I can do to tend to it.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief and you helped Snufkin set his tent up the best you could. After that was done, he ushered you inside while he rummaged around outside. When he came back, he had a bowl of water and began searching his bag for a couple of rags. He soaked two of them, ringing them out before folding one of them and placing it on your forehead. You sighed as the rag cooled your burning face before yelping when you felt a tug at your leg.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Snufkin said, gently placing the other cool rag on your wound. You groaned at the burn it caused but didn’t fight him.

You felt ungodly tired, your conscience fading in and out, while your body was unbelievably hot. You gently tapped at your side to get Snufkin’s attention.

“I…sleep,” You mumbled, eyelids falling shut. You heard Snufkin say something to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, but your brain couldn’t make sense of it.

Snufkin’s hand on your cheek was the last thing you could remember before you slipped out of conscience.

-----------------

Saying that Snufkin was worried would be the understatement of the year. He tended to your injured ankle, replacing the cloth on your forehead with a cold one every now and then. He had washed your ankle off with clean, cold water and wrapped it with actual bandages, draping his coat over your shivering body. If you didn’t break your fever before nightfall, he had to take you to get outside help, whether you liked it or not.

Only when he was sure that he had done everything that he could for you for the time being, he left to gather the plants you two had collected earlier. Snufkin felt somewhat ill when he looked at the small clearing in the forest where you dropped your things earlier. He silently gathered everything up before heading back to his tent.

Once there, Snufkin organized your findings and put them away, tending to you in any way he could. It took him a couple of hours before he finished, nighttime was already upon you two. He checked your sleeping form, noting your irregular, labored breathing and flush face. Your fever was still very much present and that’s when he decided he needed to get you help.

Snufkin left you once again, quickly making his way to the Moomin house. He knocked on the door hoping that it was still early enough in the night that they would answer. To his delight, Moominmama answered, straightening her apron out as she glanced up.

“Snufkin, what a pleasant surprise,” Moominmama said smiling, “Where’s your coat? Please, come in.”

“Not now, Moominmama,” Snufkin said, holding his hand out to her, “I need your help. A friend of mine was injured badly.” He added.

“Oh my, where are they?” She asked, concerned, covering her mouth with her hand and glancing about.

“They’re in my tent resting, but I’ve helped them all I can already,” Snufkin explained, “Would it be alright if I brought them here for you to treat?”

“Why of course!” Moominmama exclaimed, turning back into her home to gather the items needed to tend to you, “Do you need help moving them?”

“I do,” Snufkin said, stepping into the house, “Could you get Moominpapa or Moomintroll to help?” he asked.

“Moomintroll!” Moominmama shouted.

“Yes, Mama?” Moomintroll answered back, standing at the top of the staircase. Moomintroll looked down, “Snufkin!” He shouted, walking down the stairs to greet the other.

“Snufkin needed help bringing someone here. Please help him,” Moominmama said, digging around the cabinets for medical items.

“Someone?” Moomintroll asked, confused.

“Yes, come with me,” Snufkin said, taking Moomintroll’s hand and running back to his tent. The whole walk there, Moomintroll was asking Snufkin about you -- who you were, what you looked like, how badly you were injured -- only to receive one or two-word responses.

Once the two of them got there Snufkin let go of Moomintroll’s hand and said,

“Alright, they should still be asleep. I’ll need you to carry them,” Snufkin opened the tent to find you still asleep, breathing shallowly. He crawled back in, keeping Moomintroll out as he kept trying to peer in at you.

Snufkin grabbed you by your shoulders and pulled you toward the entrance of the tent.

“They’re a bit skittish, so you’re going to have to be gentle with them,” Snufkin explained, pulling you all of the way out of the tent.

“Hey, isn’t this the same person I saw a few weeks ago?” Moomintroll asked once he finally got a good look at you, holding his arms out to carry you.

“Yes,” Snufkin answered, placing you in Moomintroll’s arms, “Watch their back.”

“What are you…Oh-” Moomintroll asked, stopping himself mid-sentence. He looked down at you in amazement and at your wings as they sagged against the ground, limp.

“What…are they?” Moomintroll asked, looking back up at Snufkin, who was dismantling his tent and putting the parts in his bag.

“I’m not sure,” Snufkin admitted, slinging his bag onto his back, “Something unique, I suppose. Let’s head back.” He added, tucking your wings against your back the best he could.

Moomintroll struggled slightly carrying you due to your wings going limp and falling out and against the ground every now and again. He managed as it was a short walk over to Moomin’s house. Moominmama was waiting at the door for their return, face filled with worry as your figure came into sight.

“Oh my…” Moominmama whispered, holding her arms out and plucking you out of Moomintroll’s hold. She glanced over your frame, eyes lingering on your wings, and asked after not noticing anything immediately wrong, “What happened to them?”

“They injured their ankle a couple of days ago and it got infected,” Snufkin explained, walking into the house after the others and closing the door, “They’ve also had a fever for a few hours.”

Moominmama carried you, much like a mother would a child, up the stairs and into the spare bedroom where she already had all the medical supplies set up. She placed your unconscientious form on the bed, mindful of your wings. She removed the bandages Snufkin put on your ankle before taking a look at it.

“They hurt themself pretty bad,” Moominmama hummed, rummaging through the basket of medicinal items, “But it’s nothing I can’t fix.” She added, much to Snufkin’s relief.

“Hey! Let me in, I wanna see too!” The three heard a shrill voice shout from somewhere outside the door.

“Not yet, Little My. Let Moominmama tend to them and then you can see them,” Another, calmer, voice explained. The two bickered back and forth for a while before they left.

“I had Moominpapa take care of Little My,” Moominmama said, wiping down your ankle with clean, warm water, “I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be bothered by Little My while they tried to recover.”

Moominmama placed a cool, wet towelette on your forehead before grabbing the rubbing alcohol from the basket. She soaked a clean rag with it then grabbed your foot, just below your injury. As gently as she could, she began disinfecting the wound with the alcohol-soaked rag.

You groan in your sleep, drawing Snufkin’s attention away from Moomintroll’s questions, and pulled your ankle out of Moominmama’s grasp, curling on your side and facing away from the three.

“Oh, I know, dear, but this must be done,” Moominmama said apologetically, grabbing your ankle once again and cleaning it off. You whined more in your sleep, a noise that Snufkin disliked hearing, but didn’t pull away like you had before.

Moominmama was quick to patch you up before she tucked you in; She hesitated as she brought the blanket up past your shoulders, opting to rest it at your waist unsure whether you wanted them covered or not.

“They are quite lovely,” Moominmama hummed, gently stroking your hair out of your face. Moominmama replaced the now warm towelette on your forehead with a cold one and began packing everything away.

“Do you want to stay with them for the night, Snufkin?” Moominmama asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Snufkin replied, sitting down in the chair that was next to your bedside. Snufkin took your limp hand into his own, running his thumb over your palm. You hummed in your sleep before turning away from the other, taking your hand with you.

“Come now, Moomin, let’s let them rest,” Moominmama said, ushering said Moomin out of the room, “Goodnight, Snufkin.”

“Goodnight, Moominmama and Moomintroll,” Snufkin said, eyes never leaving you, as the door behind the two closed. Snufkin heard Little My shout something about wanting to see you, but he ignored it in favor of watching over you.

It had been around an hour when exhaustion really began to hit Snufkin. He wanted to stay awake in case you woke up and needed him, but he just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open and before he knew it, he was drifting asleep in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snufkin woke up due to a knock at the door. He stretched before opening the door to see Moominmama standing in the hallway along with Moomintroll and Moominpapa, the latter holding a squirming Little My in his arms.

“Are they awake yet?” Moominmama asked, peeking over Snufkin’s shoulder to catch a glance of you.

Snufkin looked behind him before answering, “Not yet.”

Moominmama hummed, stepping inside before tending to you, the others following behind her.

“Woah,” Little My said, rushing up to your bedside to get a good look at you, “What is that thing?” She asked.

“Oh, be nice!” Moomintroll said, nudging Little My’s shoulder and pulling her away, the smaller sticking her tongue out at him childishly.

Moominmama removed the warm towellet and checked for a fever, relieved to see that your fever had broken sometime during the night. She wiped away the remaining water on your head and checked the bandages for any signs of lifting or unraveling.

During her examination, you had kicked your leg away from Moominmama before beginning to stretch your body. Your body relaxed before your E/C eyes fluttered open, landing on Moominmama herself. You gasped as your eyes focused and you backed away from the Moomin, back pressing against the wall in a panic.

Your breathing was uneven as you glanced around the room, eyes flickering quickly between the Moomins. You opened and closed your mouth a few times with broken words and incoherent noises being the only things that left it.

“Why?” Was the only thing you were able to rasp out as your eyes fell on Snufkin who had stood up from the chair next to you.

“It’s alright, dear,” Moominmama said in a comforting tone, “We’re not going to hurt you. I’m just here to help you,”

You shook your head and curled into yourself, knees pressed almost painfully against your chest.

“Away,” You mumbled, “Get away!”

Moominmama took a step back from you and spoke.

“Let’s give them some space, yes? They must be frightened,” She said, ushering the others out of the room, “If you need anything, just call for us.” She added quietly to you.

You glanced up at her voice and didn’t miss the kind smile she flashed you. You noticed that in the group of people leaving, Snufkin was among them. Before you could think, you reached out to him and shouted,

“Not you!” Everyone turned around to see you pointing to Snufkin, “You can stay.” You added.

Moominmama nodded and motioned for everyone to leave the two of you alone. She whispered something you couldn’t hear to Snufkin as she left the room. Snufkin closed the door before approaching you cautiously, worried that he might frighten you, and sat in the chair by your bedside.

You stared at him as he sat down and stayed quiet for a few moments, trying to find the right words.

“Why…bring me here?” You asked hesitantly. Snufkin shifted in his seat before answering.

“You needed help,” He said, “I had done all that I could do to help you.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, looking away from him. You knew he was right and as uncomfortable as it made you, by bringing you here Snufkin had probably saved your life. It was quiet before you spoke up again.

“Who are they?” you asked.

“Well, the woman you were talking to is Moominmama. She was the one who tended to your injuries. Then there’s Moomintroll who helped carry you here,” Snufkin explained, glancing over to see you listening to him curiously.

“There’s also Moominpapa, who is Moominmama’s husband, and Little My, who was the little girl that was in here that is also my sister.” Snufkin continued.

“Moominmama…” You murmured in thought, “Is she…nice?’ You asked.

“Yes,” Snufkin answered, “She’s very nice. Moominpapa and Moomintroll are also nice.”

“Not the little one?” You asked, looking up at him. Snufkin shook his head.

“Not at first, but she’ll warm up to you,” Snufkin said with a small smile, “She…won’t actually hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You hugged your knees closer to yourself, ignoring the dull ache in your ankle as you did so. You thought for a moment before beginning to stand up. Snufkin noticed this and stood up quickly and took a step towards you, extending a hand out towards you.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, a mere foot away from you. You shook your head as you continued moving to the edge of the bed. Snufkin moves out of the way to allow you to get off as you swing your legs over the edge, first your right foot, then your left. You stood up and shifted your weight on each foot before walking towards the door with Snufkin only a foot away and ready to catch you.

You heard a quiet conversation on the other side of the door as you got closer to it, mainly consisting of a sweet, calm voice. Slowly opening the door the conversation abruptly stops and you peek your head out to meet the faces of four people, three Moomins and a Mumrik.

“Hello, dear,” Moominmama greeted with a soft smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling…better,” You answered, pushing the door open a little further but not yet walking out. You turned back to look at Snufkin unsure of who was who.

“Could you step in for a moment, Moominmama?” Snufkin asked, pulling you back from the door.

“Of course,” She answered, walking through the threshold and closing the door behind her, “Do you need to be treated anymore, dear?” She asked you.

“They’re alright for now. They just wanted to meet you,” Snufkin spoke for you after noticing your discomfort. The Moomin looked over at you, a gentle smile gracing her soft, round face.

“Hello,” You mumbled, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, biting your lip as the left ankle began to ache.

“Oh, dear, please sit down! Your ankle has only just begun to heal. I’d hate for you to become any more injured.” Moominmama said worried and reached out a hand to hold yours, the other resting on your shoulder. You stiffened at the contact but relaxed once she only guided you to a chair.

“I’m thinking it will take around a week for your ankle to heal to the point where you’ll be able to walk normally. Two weeks for it to fully heal.” Moominmama explained, her eyes drifting from your face to your back. Your wings twitched uncomfortably under her gaze, and you brought your knees up to your face as a comfort. Snufkin laid a hand on your shoulder to calm you, which made Moominmama look back up at your face.

“Oh, pardon my rudeness!” She apologized, “How about I make us all some tea? That way we can answer any questions you have. How does that sound?”

“What’s…tea?” You asked.

“It’s a kind of drink,” Snufkin explained, “I promise it will be nice. I’ll make sure everyone gives you the space you need.” He said, taking your hands into his own, warm ones. You thought for a moment before answering.

“Ok.”

Moominmama cleared her throat beside the two of you, prompting Snifkin to let go of your hands. He offered you a small smile before Moominmama ushered all three of you out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Snufkin walked out in front of you, with Moominmama being the first one out, to try and make you as comfortable as he could.

“I’m going to make us all some tea to make our guest more comfortable,” Moominmama said, walking down the stairs.

“Hey, they’re up.” The short girl, who you presumed was Little My, shouted, drawing attention to you. Everyone who had been waiting in the hallway all turned to you.

“Oh wow. They’re so tall!” A short and stocky Moomin shouted excitedly, running up to measure his height against yours. You stood still as he pressed his shoulder to yours, his head barely reaching your chin even as he stood up straight and you hunched.

“Don’t be rude now, Moomin,” Another Moomin, one looking exactly like the other who was pressed to your arm, said while pulling the other away from you.

“Please excuse him; He’s still but only a boy,” The Moomin explained. Looking at him now, you noted that he was taller than the Moomin who was next to you and was wearing a black top hat.

“My name is Moominpapa,” He said, extending his hand out. You stared at it a moment before grasping it, allowing your hand to be shaken up and down, “And this is Moomintroll. Say hi, Moomin.”

“Hello!” Moomintroll shouted eagerly, practically vibrating where he was standing, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

You stared at him a moment before pointing to yourself.

“Y/N,” You said. They stayed quiet expecting you to say more, but you remained silent.

“It’s a pleasure to have you as company, Y/N,” Moominpapa said with a nod of his head.

You felt a tug at the bottom of one of your wings and looked down to see Little My pulling at them rather harshly.

“Are these real?” She asked. You merely pulled your wing out of her grasp in response. She gasped as the soft feathers slipped out of her hand before trying to grab at you again. You pivoted in a circle as she continued to run around you in an attempt to tug at your wing again while Shufkin bent down and picked her up.

“Leave them be. You wouldn’t want someone pulling your clothes or hair now would you?” Snufkin said. Little My squirmed in his arms a moment more before accepting defeat and laying limp in his grasp.

“Dear, the tea is ready.” You hear Moominmama call from the kitchen.

“That’s our cue,” Moominpapa said, ushering the four of you down the stairs, “Let’s not keep her waiting.” Moominpapa was still cautious of your injury and offered you a hand.

Stepping out into the foyer, you gazed around at the small living room and peered into the kitchen that was adjacent to the staircase. There was something so comforting about the small living room that calmed you. Still, you couldn’t help but think about running out through the front door at the end of the staircase.

Noticing your hesitance to walk into the kitchen, Moomintroll took your hand in his and led you to the kitchen with a gentle smile. Snufkin dropped Little My onto one of the oddly cut pieces of wood that surrounded the table. Your hand fell out of the Moomin’s as you made your way to the table and tapped one of the pieces of wood. Looking up at Snufkin you asked,

“What is this?”

Before Snufkin could answer, Moomintroll spoke up first.

“That’s a chair,” He said, “Have you never seen one before?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head.

“How strange. Where are you from?” Moomin asked.

“Let them sit and have some tea first, then we can ask questions.” Moominmama interrupted while placing a tray -- that had a pot and cups on it -- down on the table. Snufkin showed you how to sit properly in the chair while everyone else sat down. Moominmama poured you a cup of tea telling you to be careful since it was still hot.

“So,” Moominmama said while taking a seat at the head of the table, “If I may ask, where are you from, dear? I don’t recognize you.” You frowned.

“Don’t…know,” You mumbled, “I don’t remember. Was left alone when I was a child.”

“Aww, that’s so sad,” Moomintroll said frowning, “Do you remember anything from before you were left alone?”

“No. Nothing,” You answered, “I came here from…from up. It was getting cold.”

“So it’s like you migrated from the North?” Moominpapa asked.

“Migrated?” You repeated.

“Migrated. It’s something that birds do,” Snufkin explained, “During the winter time, birds will travel south since it’s warmer there and then return north after winter has passed.”

“Oh,” You whispered, “Yes, I migrated.”

“Well just know you are always welcome here in the Moomin house,” Moominmama said, taking a sip of her tea. You grabbed the cup and mimicked her movements. The tea wasn’t all that good. It just tasted like slightly sweeter water, but you drank it nonetheless grateful that she had given it to you.

You continued to talk to the Moomins and Snufkin for the better part of the day. It mainly consisted of them asking you something and you answering with some half-baked sentence that you weren’t sure made sense, but that they seemed to understand.

You had only realized how long you all had been talking when Moomintroll invited you and Snufkin to join him and Little My outside, as by then it was already afternoon. You watch the other two run out the front door while Snufkin helped you up and out of the house. Moominmama and Moominpapa wished you well as you were led out onto the porch. Snufkin sat you down on the porch while the others ran out onto the grass in front of the house.

“So, can you actually fly or are the wings just for show?” Little My asked. You shook your head ‘yes.’

“Well then, show us!” She shouted, “I’ve been dying to see it.”

“Little My, they are still injured.” Shufkin said. You place your hand on Snufkin’s shoulder and pull yourself up. You smiled at Little My and waved your hand.

“Come,” You said, “I will fly.”

Little My ran over to you and stood with her hands on her hips. You picked her up despite the little struggle she put up and hugged her to your chest.

“Ready?” You ask.

“Huh!?” She squeaks into your chest before you take off. You watch as Snufkin and Moomintroll become smaller and smaller as you ascend, all the while Little My is yelling and clutching your chest and waist. You didn’t fly very far nor very high, just high enough so she could understand what it felt like.

Your flying stuttered as she grabbed the cloak on your back and pulled it over your wings partially, causing her to scream louder as you dipped for a moment. You laughed lightly at her screaming.

“No, you okay!” You shouted over the wind in your ears.

“No, I’m not! Put me down, put me down!” She cried.

“You want me to fly? I fly!” You yell, tossing her up and quickly catching her, smiling at the way she screamed and begged to be put down. After a moment you complied, gently descending to the ground and placing a disoriented Little My down only for her to fall face-first into the grass. She gripped the ground hard, little blades of grass escaping in between her fingers, and muttered into the ground.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you ground!” Little My shouted and you laughed. You soon saw Moomintroll and Snufkin run over, smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“Wow, that was so cool!” Moonintroll exclaimed, wonder apparent on his face, “Can you do that with me?”

“Not sure,” You answer uncertainty.

“Maybe they can try another time after they’ve fully healed?” Snufkin tells Moomintroll. Moomintroll’s head falls slightly.

“Yeah, maybe another time,” He whispers. Feeling bad, you place a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you.

“Another time,” You say, and he smiles more confidently.

Snufkin offers you a hand to help you return to the porch with the others. You sit back down and watch as the others play in the sunlight. They do what they can to include you, but you understand that it’s difficult considering your condition.

Sometime during the afternoon, Moominmama came to speak to you with Moominpapa trailing behind her.

“Please pardon our rudeness, but if I may, can we touch your wings? They look so beautiful,” She asks softly, and who are you to deny her? You spread your wings out towards them and watch as Moominmama slowly reaches out to touch them.

Warmth is the first thing you register. Warmth, quickly followed by pressure to the tip of your left wing. One hand cradled the feathers with the other gently slid over them, similar to how one would pet a cat. Soon, another pair of hands joined her on your other wing.

“Oh my,” Moominmama whispers, entranced by the silky softness that is your wings, “I have never seen something so beautiful. You are quite fortunate to have been born this way.”

You hum as a reply, your eyes falling shut at the cadenced petting of your wings. It was soothing, both the delicate pressure and rhythmic nature of her strokes. You begin to lean to your side, your head falling into Moominmama’s lap. Moominpapa releases your wings as Moominmama giggles lightly, starting to stroke your hair instead.

“You’re quite young too, aren’t you? Around Snufkin’s age, if I had to guess,” Moominmpapa ponders, but you barely hear it as you rest in other’s lap, dully watching the others continue to flock in the late afternoon light.

Moominmama would later call in the others for dinner as twilight approached. She cooked a lovely meal of red Borscht soup and sourdough bread with fruit galettes for dessert. You had never tasted anything so delicious in your life, it made you want to cry. While the food Snufkin would cook was good, it wasn’t anything near as rich as Moominmama’s.

Before you knew it, your plate was cleared and as you bit into the galette you felt tears prick at your eyes and hum happily as the sweet jam touched your tongue. Snufkin leaned over and brushed a thumb over your cheek, wiping the tear away.

“Are you alright?” He asked, worry evident on his face. You nod your head, ‘yes.’

“So…good,” You whimpered, shoving the rest of the dessert into your mouth. Moominmama and Moominpapa quickly came over and embraced you on either side. Their embrace is warm, comforting, as Moominpapa spoke up,

“You will always have a place here, [Y/N].”

You stare at him, eyes wide and unblinking, as more tears start to well up in your eyes and you can do nothing to stop them from falling down your cheeks and the sobs from bubbling up your throat and tumbling out of your mouth.

The others at the table are quick to join you: Moomintroll hugs you from behind, Little My hugs your leg, and Snufkin hugs your chest as best he can. You wrapped your arms around Snufkin and squeezed, tears falling freely and cries loud and unfiltered.

“Thank you!” You shouted between sobs. You heaved forward, chin resting on Snufkin’s shoulders as the others embraced you tighter, simultaneously both too much and not enough and you had no idea how to feel.

Is this what company was like? Have you really been missing out on this your whole life?

Is this what it was like to be loved?

The others pulled away from you after a moment, all except for Snufkin who continued to hold your hands gently even after moving back.

“You’ll be safe here, with the Moomins,” Snufkin whispered, “I promise.”

And you believed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winter in Moominvalley came much sooner than you expected.

It seemed that as soon as your ankle had healed and you had gotten to know the Moomins, they began their yearly hibernation ritual. Snufkin explained it to you when they first started the process.

“Every year at winter time, the Moomins hibernate,” You hear him say, “It’s like how you move away from the cold in winter, except they sleep through the cold weather and wake up when it becomes warm again in the spring.”

“They sleep?” You asked, “The whole time? How do they stay asleep for so long?”

Snufkin laughed,

“I’m not sure. It’s a mystery to me too.”

Snufkin looked away from you and at the stream in front of you where you both were sat on its shore.

“Do you also sleep?” You questioned. Snufkin shook his head with a smile.

“No, I travel elsewhere during the winter here,” He answered.

“Where do you go?”

“Wherever the world wants me to go.”

You hum, laying down on the grass more and spreading your wings to bask in the fleeting sunlight and cool breeze.

“Where will you go?” Snufkin asks quietly.

“I don’t know. I don’t actually have anywhere to go,” You said, looking up at him.

Snufkin is beautiful. The fading sunlight highlights his short, chestnut hair in the best possible way as the same light brightens his usually dark brown -- almost black -- eyes. The green of his clothes complements his olive tones perfectly and you can’t pull your eyes away from him no matter how hard you try.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Snufkin asks and for a moment you’re too stunned by his beauty to answer. Your eyes widen as his words sink in and you sit up with a jolt.

“Really? You want me to travel with you?” You asked, unsure if you understood him correctly.

“Yes really. I would be honored if you joined me in my travels,” Snufkin said smiling at you, “You make great company.”

“I thought you liked traveling alone? Because you get tired of people?” You said eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I do, but I could never become tired of you,”

Your face feels warm now and it’s not just from the sun. You swear your heart stops for an instant and you grip your chest in worry. His smile is so warm, so soft, and it’s directed at you and only you.

When you find your voice, your words are quick to tumble out.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay with you,” You whisper, scooting over closer to Snufkin. He places his hand overtop yours and the warmth that envelopes your whole body from the simple action is almost too much for you to handle.

“I’m so glad,” He whispers back, leaning closer to you, “I’ve grown quite fond of you from our time together.” He smiles.

“Actually, there’s something more I’ve wanted to tell you,” Snufkin says suddenly and pulls away from you, and you mourn the lost contact.

“Do you know what it’s like to be loved?” Snufkin asks, his eyes staring deep into yours as his heavy question sinks in. You hum in thought and look away, thinking back to all the other relationships you have observed.

“I believe I know what love is,” You start, looking back into Snufkin’s amber eyes, “Moominmama and Moominpapa both love Moomintroll, and Moomintroll also loves Moominmama and Moominpapa. You love Little My and, which she doesn’t always show, she loves you too. You love Moomintroll, and Moomintroll loves you. Annnd…And I love you all, and you all love me!”

“But do you know of another kind of love?” Snufkin continues, holding both of your hands and holding them in between you two, “The way that Moominmama loves Moominpapa, and Moominpapa loves Moominmama?”

You’re silent as you ponder this. Come to think of it, you had never given their relationship much thought, assuming that they were always together.

“I haven’t,” You answered.

“It’s…a warm feeling,” Snufkin begins, taking a firm hold of your hands and pressing them to your chest, “It starts in your chest. You feel an unusual, but not uncomfortable, warmth begin to form in the center of your chest, in your heart,” He circles your sternum with your hand in his.

“Then, it starts to work its way throughout your whole chest, moving from your heart to your lungs, to your stomach, and to your shoulders,” His hands trail along your body as he speaks, and your breath hitches with every gentle graze his knuckles make to your bare skin in some areas.

“From there, the warmth continues to travel to each appendage, from your shoulders to the tips of your fingers and from your thighs to the tips of your toes. And in your specific case, from your back to the tips of your longest feathers,” Your wings twitch subconsciously at the mention of them and your fingers when Snufkin lets them go to travel down your legs and to your ankles before releasing them.

“And then?” You ask meekly, and he giggles.

“And then, the warmth goes up your neck,” His fingers trail your collarbones before going up your neck, a hand on each side, “And it settles into your face, turning you as red as a tomato!” He finished, his hands cupping both of your cheeks in his hands and you gasped.

“You turn into a tomato?!” You shout, hands holding Snufkin’s to prevent him from pulling them away.

“No, no, you don’t turn into a tomato. Your face just becomes red from blush, making you look like a tomato,” Snufkin explains, his smile never wavering. You sigh out an ‘oh’ and tilt your head.

“But what causes this love? Why is it different from the other ways we love?” You ask.

“It’s caused by a single person,” Snufkin whispers, his face inching just barely closer to yours as if he was telling you a secret, “This person becomes very special to you. You want them to be with you as long as possible. You want to protect them the best you can. You want to cherish them and honor them with all your being.”

Snufkin pauses.

“This person makes you feel whole,” He finished, and he is now mere inches away from you, his hands still cupping your cheeks with his fingertips brushing along your jawline and thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

“Have you ever felt this love before?” He asks again.

Without hesitation, you answer,

“I have.”

The air is silent before Snufkin speaks up.

“[Y/N].” He whispers.

“Yes, Snufkin?” You answer.

“I love you.”

And with that, the distance between you two is closed. Warmth flows within both of you, radiating from where both of you were joined by the gentle connection of soft lips.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In another place, at another time, two lovers sat down together along the cliffside to watch the sun set below the horizon and bring forth the cool nighttime. Warmed by each others’ embrace, One turned to the Other and spoke,

“Other?”

“Yes, One?” They answer.

“Do you think in our next lives, we’ll still love each other?” One asked, and the Other smiled.

“What kind of question is that?” The Other asked, “Of course we would be.”

“I hope so,” One had sighed in response, “In my next life, I hope that I’m me again so that I can find you and fall in love with you again!”

The Other laughed at this and pressed a kiss to One’s cheek.

“Then I hope I’m also me again so that you can find me and I can love you again as well.”

#Moomin #Moomin 1990 #moominvalley #moominvalley snufkin #snufkin x reader #moominvalley x reader #moomin x reader #moomintroll #little my #moominmamma #moominpappa #thewildsophiawrites

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