#pixie male x reader

The hedges of juniper were glistening, something catching your peripheral, something reflecting through the hedges you sat in front of that you had spotted since you had been working. At first, you had thought it had been a piece of jewellery, possibly one of the neighbours had dropped their ring or earring into the fern, or a bird had found an interest in the bright object.

As you leant forward into the shrubbery, you caught sight of the back of a broken wing, similar in looks to a dragonfly wing, reflecting off in a holographic hue.

You gathered and pushed back the foliage to get a better view, anticipating to see an injured dragonfly on Death’s door, but it had been something far worse and unexpecting.

The wings were attached to what you could only imagine or think of as a small doll; no taller than four inches, maybe smaller than the same size of your palm. They were curled up with their back facing you, curled to hide from the sun and whatever lurked in trying to harm them.

You gently leant over them to inspect closer, your mouth gaping open as a small gasp left you lips. The small thing was bigger than a doll, and so realistic than just plastic. There was a flush hue to their porcelain and dirtied skin; and you could finally put two and two together, quickly seeing their small ribcage rise and fall with a hitched wheeze.

Who would’ve believed Pixies were real! You gathered the small creature into your fingers, feeling how little of an impact its weight made in your cupped hands. They were so tiny, almost imaginary impossible to fathom, but you were certain this was no lie nor dream.

You rushed in with your basket hooked on your arm, gathering the Pixie as you came back through the front door, carrying them to the kitchen table and laying them softly on a bed of tissue.

You could see their face properly, neither female or male, but looked to be showing more masculine peculiarities, with a fall of short silver hair guarding their closed eyes, their body delicate and emaciated from how close you could see their ribs.

You hurried to your fridge and cupboard, gathering a small pipette and a small glass of apple juice, coming back to dispense the liquid into the pipette and putting it to their move with a gentle guide of your fingers.

Your fingernail was maybe the same size as their head, which worried and fascinated you, trying to coax them to pry their mouth open. With a small toss of their body and head, their mouth was able to be opened as you gently pressed down little by little, trying to get some sweetness into the pour pixie.

It took a few goes, but they managed to drink a little, their body still dirtied and holding an injury, you set aside your fruit as you begin in hopes of working out how to fix their wing.

The wing was crooked but not unamendable, so you thought about the idea of laying out a splint for them, gathering small toothpicks, band-aids, a piece of string and other small items you could find in your sewing kit.

Little by little, you fixed a small splint with some measurements, working the wing to lie against the small piece of cardboard you found, laying with it outstretched. By the time you had checked your progress, it had been almost dark, with no knowledge in knowing how fast time had passed.

You made dinner, trying to feed the small pixie once more as you finally settled them in a small shoebox filled with feathers and cotton for the underneath, a handkerchief for a blanket and cotton shaped into a pillow; even a small vest to keep their modesty! Placing the small pixie inside as you put them on the nightstand beside your bed, finally and looking over them one last time before you were to bed. 

You awoke with something sharp pressed into the side of your nose, your hand coming to swipe at it as if it had been just a fly, but immediately from removing it, the feeling came back to press into your nose, pressing harder this time into you.

You craned your head back as your eyes confusingly opened, blurry as they adjusted to see what you had thought was a large enough piece of a cotton bud standing over you.

Your eyes adjusted, looking over the unruly mess of silver locks and angry eyebrows furrowed; a pair of angry lilac eyes staring back down at you. In their hand, was a small sewing pin with a blue hilt, holding it like he was defeating his enemy with a rapier in battle.

Your eyes looked to the splint still around their wing, looking to be tampered with as it was not properly attached on.

“What have you done to me, human?” The pixie affirmed, their voice aggressively high-pitched, more cute than threatening, as they pressed the point into your flesh harder, earning a yelp from you as you stared up to them in awestruck and wonder.