Salad Fingers x Reader: Fluff 💚💚

Home Sweet Home

   You awoke sitting up against the walls a small, cold room, barely furnished save for a bare mattress and a small desk covered in various household items. The air outside whistled as it flew through the gaps in the walls into the house, making you shudder. You tried to get up, but were stopped by a tremendous pain in your leg and your head, causing you to fall back down onto your bottom.
   You looked down and saw that your pant leg had been rolled up, and your wound from earlier had been haphazardly wrapped in toilet paper. You felt your head and realized your head wounds had also been wrapped in toilet paper, and were even beginning to fall off.
   You sat there, confused, tired, even kind of scared. The fact that you couldn't move or remember what you were running from made the mixed feelings even worse.
   You heard uneven, shuffling footsteps from outside the room, and looked to the door- or rather, the doorway lacking a door. Someone got a few steps inside until noticing, then making direct eye contact with you.
   It was him. He was what you were running from. A tall, green man with giant eyes and elongated fingers stood staring at you for a moment, seemingly confused about who you were. Then, with a soft "oh," he slowly walked forward and knelt down to see you.
   "Hello," he said, in a small, feeble voice, "I-I see you've w-woken up. I've been thinking about you." He had a innocent, yet creepy smile as he talked to you, staring at you with two red eyes that both drooped down in opposite directions. "Are- are you feeling better now?" He tapped the top of your head with one of his fingers a few times.
   You couldn't think of a reply, so you sat, frozen, your mouth hanging open slightly.
The man raised a finger, "yes, I'm feeling quite well, Mr. Fingers," he said, "said- said uh," he stroked his chin, "said Alice Jackson." (He names you this regardless of gender) You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but kept your mouth shut.
   "I-I say, would you care for a cup of green tea?" He looked at you, silent, for a moment, "alright, let me make you some then." He stood back up and walked out of the room, leaving you all alone. And so you sat there, confused, cold, somewhat scared. But you weren't just going to let yourself sit in a cold house with some crazy man calling himself "Mr. Fingers". You slid up against the wall, putting at little weight onto your sore leg as you could, and attempted to walk toward the door.
   You held yourself up against the wall, but every step you took send jolts of pain up your leg, making you hiss and wish you hadn't gotten up. But you've gone so far, you couldn't give up now.
   You were just over a foot away from the door before the pain in your leg became unbearable, making you have to sit down again.
   The man- or rather, Mr. Fingers- came back with a glass of slightly off-colour water, "there- there wasn't any tea left in the cupboards, m-my apologies..." he sat down in front of you, handing you the cup, which you hesitantly took from him. He noticed the tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of walking a minute before, and leaned in closer. "Oh dear...you appear to have water running out of your eyes, A-Alice Jackson," he brushed one of his creepily long fingers across your face, wiping up a few of your tears. "You- you'd better drink up then, before it all comes out."
   He wiped a few more tears off your face, then licked the finger he used to do so. "Your eye water tastes nice..." he whispered, sighing softly. This man was undoubtedly a total creep. "A-and your skin has a rather welcoming texture..." he tapped each of his three fingers on one of his hands against your face a few times, "a pleasure for the fingers," he whispered.
   "Mr. Fingers" held your head in his hand for a moment longer, stroking your cheek and your neck before standing back up. "I-I must get going now, A-Alice, my friend and I have some business to attend to," and with that, he walked out of the room, leaving you alone again.
  
   Over the next week or so however, Mr. Fingers left you by yourself less and less. He was nearby at almost all times, talking to himself, talking to you, or just staring at you silently.
   But today you woke up and couldnt find him anywhere. You stood and walked around the house the best you could, your leg still aching, looking for him. You walked into what you thought may be a living room, and looked out one of the two windows beside the entrance door- the only actual door in the house.
   It was a bright, sunny day out, almost blindingly bright. But that wasn't the worst part; the worst part was how you were in the middle of nowhere. An enormous wasteland stretching on and on for miles, with only a single tree and and a toilet in the distant to fill the empty space somewhat. The emptiness outside made your stomach churn, so you decided to turn and occupy yourself with something- anything- else.
   You limped back into the kitchen, which only had a stove to signify that this was, in fact, a kitchen. You looked around, and after a minute, heard the sound of someone crying from the corner. Although you didn't see anyone, you did see an odd panel on the wall, a panel that looked like what could be an entrance to a smaller room. You walked over, and sure enough, the closer you got, the louder the sobbing became. You knelt down and gently knocked on the panel. The crying stopped.
   The panel began to slide to the side, revealing the smaller room you'd thought would be there, as well as Mr. Fingers, who poked his head out to look at you.
   "Who's- o-oh, it's just you, A-Alice..." he cracked a small, weak smile, "I didn't expect you to come looking for me..." he looked down to the floor, his smile fading.
   You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. "What's wrong, Mr. Fingers? A-asked Alice Ja-jackson," he forced a chuckle, "i-it's nothing, really, don't..." you held out a hand to him, which he gazed at for a moment, then up at you. His eyes were wider than usual as he only stared, as if he didn't know what to do. He eventually raised a hand and placed it into your's, which you closed your fingers around and held on to.
   "I see..." he mumbled, crawling out of the small room and standing up, not letting go of your hand. "I-I don't think I've laid fingers on another person's hands yet," he giggled, "it's rather nice...they're s-so soft." You smiled up at him as he touched and stroked your hand, eventually grabbing your free hand and doing the same to that one.
   "Ah...you're so wonderful to be with, A-Alice." He pulled your hand up to his face and kissed it gently, making your stomach turn nervously and your face burn up a bit.
   He sighed softly and wiped his eyes, "I'm starting to grow a bit tired, Alice, I think I need a nap," he let go of your hand, "I'll be in bed if you need me."
   He walked off to his bedroom, leaving you leaning against the wall, your legs still weak. You slid down onto your bottom and sighed.
   Maybe being with this weirdo wasn't so bad after all.