hello nvuy
hypothetical question i…f…………..hypothetically there was ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever eber ever a chance for a hypothetical one shot on ohdh after scaradouche and the ir…min….sul…………maybe about him and reader in one of the events he was in maybe idk maybe 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
is dis ok???? 🥹🥹🥹 i imagine you guys turn out to be the: “my gf and i dont argue she bash my head in with a rock and i walk it off.” i really miss writing him because he pretends hes not a pathetic sap…
“Lieutenant!” the little dragon cries. He waves his arms as if you can’t see him as you stumble into the clearing. “You’re alright!”
Albedo rushes over to keep you from collapsing face first into the soil. You hobble over his shoulder—and Archons these guys are short. All of them, too. Still, they’re the perfect height to keep you upright.
“I’m fine,” you grit. Albedo lets you sit on one of the stools near the fire just shy of the cliff. “Just banged up.”
“I’ll go get you some ice for the bruising,” Albedo whispers. He pats your shoulder once before stalking off into the trees.
Durin looks relieved. A gentle smile graces his lips. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Hat Guy freaked out when you got pulled.”
For now, your prosthetic remains intact, untouched. You scratch at your scalp in frustration, trying to distract yourself from your sore ribs.
And knowing you’ll get an earful later.
You can already feel the headache growing.
You slink down on the chair.
“I’ve been through worse, actually.” You shift on the seat to face the cliffside. The fire blazes at your back. “I thought you guys weren’t supposed to open another portal thing. Albedo said it was dangerous last time.”
Durin nods before he shrugs.
“Hat Guy was yelling at Albedo. He practically forced us.” Durin places a hand to his chin, thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him in so much distress. You guys must be really close…”
He trails off.
A second pair of footsteps mill against the grass.
Your skin grows cold and you stiffen.
Uh-oh.
Durin awkwardly sucks his teeth. You hear him turn away from you and bound back toward the fire. “Are you okay?”
You quickly pull yourself off the chair and manage to stand. And never do you think you’ve moved so fast. You ribs howl in protest and you hunker over, but you keep a hand raised and a finger pointed at the approaching ball of fury.
“You stay back,” you threaten weakly. You step backwards, mindful of the cliff biting at your heels.
“Why are you scared?” The wanderer marches forward. “Did you do something wrong?”
“I didn’t do anything–”
“I told you not to get too close,” his voice snaps.
You snap your lips shut almost instantly.
The wanderer stands directly in front of you now. He looks understandably upset. His eyes are lidded with fury, and his fists are clenched at his sides. He’d be burning red if he was able to do such a thing. Instead, the Anemo Vision at his chest blazes and flickers with life.
You’re sure he’s about to send you flying off the cliff.
You open your mouth to speak.
You’re stopped with his palm flying across your cheek.
You yelp in shock as pain blisters over your face.
You gape at him, hands plastered across your burning cheek. You try again to start yelling back at him in retaliation, or to even raise your own knuckles and send them at his nose.
Instead, there’s a tug at your shoulders and his arms curl around your neck. He’s practically standing on his toes as humiliating as it is. Instinctively, your arms swing beneath his and freeze just shy of his back.
You notice Durin staring.
He says nothing.
In fact, he looks just as surprised as you do.
He buries his nose into your shoulder and you stumble.
You clear your throat silently. “Hey.” You turn slightly. Your nose presses into his hair. “Are you–”
He doesn’t answer. He clings tighter. His fingers slide further around you, and one arm slips down your spine.
“‘Kay.” Your hands press gently to the middle of his back. “You’re alright.”
Of course he’s alright.
You’re so stupid sometimes. Genuinely he wonders how he still manages to tolerate you. His nails press down hard into your back. You do your best to ignore the sharp prickles as he pulls harder around your coat. You’re afraid he’ll topple over with how firmly he’s poised onto his toes.
He doesn’t really need protection. Not from anything. Certainly doesn’t need it from you of all people.
But, for just a moment, there’s a swirl of your scent, the sharp tinge of the pine trees, and warmth of your coat, and he feels safe. Just easy, and simple, and like he’s everything.
He manages to peel himself off of you, but he raises his hand again. You swat it away before he can hit you on the other side of your face.
He should beat you purple.
He won’t.
Instead, he shoves you backward and you lose your balance over the cliff face.
The wanderer grabs your collar and you shriek in fright. You grip tightly at his wrists, boots scrambling for the cliff and catching onto the edges. And him. And whatever strength he pulls to hold you still.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you off,” he challenges.
You can’t give him any.
“Hat Guy–” Durin’s voice laces with concern. “It was an accident. And it was my fault.” It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Certainly not Durin’s. You hadn’t been close, just caught off guard, and the Doctor had enough tricks up his sleeve to snatch whoever ended up closest to the pull that sent the four of you hurtling towards the rip in the air.
The wanderer’s nose scrunches up with frustration.
You manage a reassuring nod with tired eyes and a busted lip that splits into a gentle grin. “I’m okay.”
Durin silently backs off when Albedo returns. The boy whittles by his brother’s side, quiet, watching, worried, but they don’t interfere. He sits down meekly on the grass and his tail curls over his legs.
Albedo sorts through the pot above the fire. He seems to be boiling some sort of herbs, too strong of a smell to be edible. Perhaps it’s medicine. And, really, you’re the only one of them all that actually needs to eat.
And despite this, only the wanderer makes meals for you as much as you insist otherwise. You don’t complain too much, however. He’s pretty good with the limited items available.
He pulls until you’re standing straight again, adjusting until you’re a safe distance from the edge of the cliff.
His grip barely slackens around your collar.
You take the opportunity to quickly press your lips to his temple. As a thank you, for saving your life, and also for not letting you plummet to your death. Your nose is cold against his face.
You don’t press further; you know he could still very well change his mind.
The wanderer grumbles and steps back, ignoring the way his Vision flares bright green. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”
And every night, “you don’t have to.”
“Shut up and sit down.” He gestures to the chair you approach as he stomps past the fire. Both Albedo and Durin keep their heads down. “And don’t go anywhere or I will tear off your other arm.”
You salute him before he disappears. Then, awkwardly, you sit back down on your chair. Albedo pokes at the strange medicinal broth and Durin sighs through his nose. He must’ve been holding his breath.
Albedo hums. A shit-eating grin curls on his lips. “He’s really fond of you.” He gestures to the fire. “Lower heat, please.”
Durin blows on the flames until they surge smaller, weaker.
“Don’t even start,” you cut in. “I’ll kill him the next chance I get.”
“You don’t mean that,” Durin chimes lightly. “He’s just looking out for you, in his own way. And that’s really special.” He rocks back into a different position, pulling his knees to his chest. “Albedo tells me Hat Guy’s way of appreciation is pretty consistent, but if I had kissed him he probably would’ve punched me in the jaw.”
Your cheek is still hot from where his palm belted into your flesh.
Yeah. That’s probably true.
Albedo gives you a knowing glance.
You mumble and turn your attention to the fire.
Stupid.