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#technoblade x reader
forefinn · 2 days ago
incorrect quotes because i haven’t done these in literally months
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y/n: goodnight moon.
y/n: goodnight tree.
y/n: goodnight ghosts that only I can see.
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y/n: violence isn't the answer.
tommy: you’re right.
y/n: *sighs in relief*
tommy: violence is the question.
y/n: what?
tommy, bolting away: and the answer is yes.
y/n, running after them: NO-
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y/n: oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside
phil: y/n, i swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...
y/n: *Sips coffee from bowl*
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y/n: english is a difficult language. it can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.
ranboo: You need to stop.
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y/n: remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?
techno: Stop romanticizing the past.
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356 notes · View notes
serend1p1ty-0 · a day ago
you picked a dance with the devil and you lucked out
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[c!Technoblade x Fem!Reader]
Warnings: SFW, Royal AU, Long Fic (15.6k words), Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn
Title: Swim - Chase Atlantic
Word Count: 15.6k (What the fucketh)
Author's Notes: [REUPLOAD FROM OLD BLOG!!!!]
I would have made this GN!Reader, but the era and plot I'm going for requires a female lead :( sadge but I'll do my best to make it engaging nonetheless!
This is the longest fic I have ever written (Again, 15.6K???????) and I didn't break it up into parts to see how well it would do. Also! Big ups to @earthtooz who practically helped me make this thing. I can't tell you how helpful it was having her along for the ride.
I'm actually going to collapse now that this is finally done./j
All of this is written in and is meant to be taken as the Dream SMP characters. There is no reference or inclusion of the streamers/Youtubers.
Summary: Your kingdom has declared peace and unity with another of higher power and wealth. As the long-standing tradition goes, you are to be wed to the eldest prince set to inherit the throne.
But, rumors of a curse that weighs on your newly betrothed's shoulders reach your ears.
You become determined to find out who he really is, not only for the sake of you and your people but for him and his kingdom as well.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Sunlight spills through the leaves, falling in between gaps of trees and making sunspots on the ground beneath your feet. The forest always felt alive this time of year, when the spring breeze took leave to fly somewhere else and summer made a blooming entrance with vibrant colors and sweet-smelling flowers. It was home.
You pick up the skirts of your dress, carefully step over a root that riddles upward from the dirt and say hello to a cardinal who gives you a quizzical look with beady black eyes. You laugh as it takes flight, disappearing from view. The air was fresh, clean. You loved being outside, much to your governess's dismay. You had vague memories of sneaking out of the window of your bedroom and into the strong oak tree that grew next to the glass. Your parents always scolded you but never had the heart to break you of the habit when they saw your genuine joy.
You're on your way back to the castle after a pleasant walk and eventually, you can see the tops of the spires peaking up over the foliage. You break from the forest and into a sprawling meadow that leads right up to the back doors of the main building. Servants mill about, tending to their daily chores and you flash them grateful smiles as you pass them by. They're used to your usual friendliness, replying with waves and brief greetings before returning to the task at hand.
You push open the large spruce doors, receiving looks from maids and butlers who are set to keeping the castle in tip-top shape. Some tsk at the sight of dirt smeared on the bottom of your dress while others smile, charmed.
"Pardon me, my lady," one of the maids approaches bashfully, "Your father requests your presence in the meeting room- er- preferably without the sullied clothes, he says."
You chuckle and nod, thanking her and begin to head up the marble white stairs that wrap along the walls and leads to the second floor. You make your way through the halls, chirping "hello"s to workers and collect a letter addressed to you from your friend, Niki in a neighboring town. The walls show no sign of dirt or grime, the vases freshly polished with buds of growing flowers basking in sunlight through the windowpanes. This is home as much as the forest is.
You climb up another flight of stairs to the third floor and take a turn to the east wing where your bedroom is. You take in the multiple paintings that line the wall and pause at your favorite: The Lady in Red. Stories say that the artist claimed the woman depicted is based on no actual person, but many historians speculate she may have been close to him. A lover, most likely.
The woman sits with proper posture and is draped in an elegant bright red satin dress. Her expression is an attempted deadpan, though sometimes you feel as if she could just break from the facade and burst into laughter at the feigned seriousness. You're not sure what gives you the impression. The slightly quirked eyebrow? The way the corner of her mouth tilts upward ever so slightly? The faint glimmer of amusement in her painted irises? Perhaps you'll never know.
As much as you wanted to slave over every small detail of the depiction as you had before, you gently remind yourself that you have places to be. Making your way down further, you finally come to a stop outside your room and open it with a gentle creak.
The room smells of eucalyptus and lavender, a scent that calms you when you wind down into your bed and watch the great oak cast shadows into your room against the moonlight. The fragrance brings you nostalgia and reminds you when your governess would tuck you in or when your parents would indulge you in a bedtime story when they weren't too busy.
You shuffle through your wardrobe, pulling off a soft gray dress that slightly drags the floor but compliments your eye color very nicely. At least, that's what Niki had said when she and Puffy pulled you into a local shop while looking at displays. You're not one to dabble in fashion and color-coding, but you do admit it's comfortable to wear at least.
You make your way back down, sliding down the banisters for efficiency, and make your way to the meeting room on the base floor. You knock on the solid dark oak door, met with an invitation to enter by a familiar gruff voice. The hinges creak as you enter, eyes turning to you curiously. Chairs squeak as everybody around the table stands out of respect for your entry and you bow in reply.
"Take a seat, my dear," Father gestures to an empty chair by his.
You comply, sitting as everyone else does and your father clears his throat. "Now that my daughter is here, we may proceed with the more...pressing matter." Murmurs of agreement run around the table. "As you know, the lasting feud between our kingdom and the one to the west of us has been in the works of resolvement in the last few months. I'm elated to inform you that we are in the final stages of completing the peace treaty."
You understood what he was talking about. For decades, your people have been in constant quarrel with the kingdom (as your father stated) to the west. It started with two spiteful kings willing to do anything to befell the other, and from what you can gather, ended with two that merely wished for peace. You're glad, knowing a major burden will be lifted from Father's and the civilians' shoulders.
"However, this does mean we've come to a few agreements," Father says, "Some of these include lessened fees for citizens who wish to travel back and forth between lands, free mingling of peoples, calling off all decrees of possible war, the stuff of that nature."
Affirmative nods and sounds circulate.
"Along with those agreements comes a tradition," Father looks at you, "Where the eldest of each family is to be wed as a sign of unity."
It always felt so sweet before, when you could hear the leaves rustling outside accompanied by chirping birds calling to one another. Now, it tasted bitter, heartbeat rushing through your ears and drowning out any free thought.
To be wed? You always thought that you'd fall in love with somebody who cared not for your status and wealth, but you. To be thrown into marriage by the pact of a few sheets of paper felt insulting. Shameful, even.
"I..." You trail off, feeling like all eyes were turned to you for your answer. Tense, waiting for you to finally explode in a fury that you'd repressed for years. Instead, you take a deep breath. "This is for the good of our kingdom, is it not?"
Your voice comes out timid and less strong than you would have liked. Father nodded. "It is."
Your fate is sealed. You press your lips together into a flat line, staring at the table you sat at, and trace the dark lines in the wood. You may have objections, but your duty is to always set aside your own personal thoughts and feelings for the sake of your people. You've understood that from a young age.
"Okay," you say quietly, barely audible.
Father let out a visible sigh, relaxing his tense shoulders and giving you a relieved smile. You don't return the gesture.
"The day after tomorrow, we will be traveling," he tells you, "to the western kingdom. They will be holding a pleasant masquerade in celebration."
"Can I bring Niki and Puffy?" you ask, hoping that the desperation doesn't leak into your request. You don't want to be stranded in a new place alone at the mercy of the king and queen there.
"Of course," Father agrees kindly and you puff out a small breath of air. At least you have that going for you.
The meeting drags on and you filter out your father's voice for pondering over what this new place would be like. And, what of the man you're supposed to marry? Was he kind? Was he bloodthirsty? Did he have amiable qualities? Gods help you if he was the sort of fellow who only had violence on his mind and spared no room for intelligence.
That night, you walk to your room, only guided by the light of the candles sit periodically throughout the halls. Guards acknowledge you with a stiff nod, watching for intruders of any type. You appreciate them.
The moon is covered by the curtains and you draw them back, letting light illuminate the room and wash the space with a blue hue. You're tired and you still ponder over the news. When you wake up tomorrow, it will be the last day you get to see your home before traveling miles to some foreign place you didn't even want to go to. You're not one to be bitter, but you suppose there's a first time for everything.
You write a letter to your two friends in the village. They live together and sometimes you wish you had the fortune of doing so as well.
My dear friends,
I regret to inform you that I've received grave news today. Tomorrow will be my final day in town before I am to be swept away to meet the royal family of the western kingdom. I extend an invitation to you to join me for I fear that I might collapse under the pressure if I don't have a familiar face or two by my side. Please come to the castle if you're free to close the shop for a bit and rest my tumbling nerves.
Stay safe.
You wait for the ink to dry and crack open the window that wasn't facing the oak tree slightly in hopes that your barn owl, Athena, will get the message. The nocturnal bird was a gift from a traveling merchant who let you keep her after she showed less aggression towards your outstretched hand at a first impression. You'd fully intended to let her free out of your window that night, assuming she was tired of being caged but was pleasantly surprised when she returned at dawn, tapping impatiently at your window.
She was an intelligent thing and became your reliable source for sending letters to Niki and Puffy, bringing back their responses in exchange for a fancy mouse. You wonder if the western family would be disturbed to know you have a stash of frozen deceased mice for your darling pet owl.
"You're the reason everybody thinks I'm some cliché storybook princess, you know," you remark offhandedly, sparing a glance to her. Athena merely croons in question, head perking up at your voice.
You loosely tie the letter to her ankle and let her perch on your forearm, swaying delicately as she regained her balance. You push open the window and guide her body past the glass. Athena's wings stretch out then upwards, lifting herself from you and gaining momentum as she glides down before pumping herself up and out of sight. You sigh, leaving the window open for her eventual return at dawn.
Falling onto the mattress, the bedding sinks beneath your weight and sigh, the noise echoing through the room and slicing through the silence before fading. It's quiet, unsettlingly so, but soon, you'll be in the midst of a ball with chittering people and a full orchestra in the background. Perhaps a masked man could show up and sweep you off your feet. A forbidden love that has you running for the hills while giggling under the cover of night.
You slip into unconsciousness thinking bitterly of the responsibility that comes with a golden crown.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You can't seem to settle down until you see the soft wisps of Niki's hair or the bouncy curls of Puffy's.
All morning, nerves pinballed around your system and you had taken up pacing to try and ease the anxiety. Twenty steps to the right, spinning on your heel at the nineteenth and re-walking the short length of the corridor to the left. Repeat process. Some of the servants threw you curious looks, but if the way you nervously fidgeted with your fingers or how frequently sighs slipped from your lips wasn't any indication that you were stressed, then nothing was.
The doors opened and the two were barely able to be introduced before you flung into their waiting arms. It was like the stress was absorbed through your skin as you held onto them tightly, feeling peace for just a moment.
"There, there," Niki soothed when she pulled away, running a hand up and down your back.
"It'll be okay," Puffy assured as she drew back and settled hands on your shoulders. "You got this handled."
"I don't," you frown because you really don't, "Today's my last day home before I have to go to someplace I don't belong and marry this guy that may or may not be a total, pardon my French, asshole. Tell me how that's handled."
"He may be nice," Niki suggests.
"Maybe," you mutter bitterly.
The three of you begin the ascent to your room so you could begin packing for the day's trip. Between talking about what dresses you should take and discussing what to do about pompous douchebags who believed the world revolved around them, you almost feel like it could be just another of hanging out with your best friends.
"Do you ever feel like you could just run away?" you question out of the blue, looking through your collection of ball gowns.
"What do you mean?" Niki asks, coming up behind you and surveys your options before pulling down the green, blue, and red with swishes of the fabric.
"Royalty stuff?" Puffy guesses and you snap your fingers and point at her.
"Bingo," you chime, turning and holding your arms out as Niki passes each article of clothing to hover over your body.
"I like the red," Puffy chirps. The dress in question is a deep dark crimson, almost like freshly spilled blood. It sends a slight shudder up your spine.
"Do you have a mask to go with it?" Niki asks and you motion to the drawer where your coverings are lined up neatly inside.
"So what's happening?" Puffy asks as you stroll to where Athena is huddled up inside a makeshift hole from a cat tower. She blinks awake sleepily as you approach, but doesn't make a move to leave when you reach out to run your fingers through her soft feathers. The owl leans sluggishly into your touch and falls back asleep.
"I don't know," you admit, running a hand through your hair in slight distress, "I just - I never cared about romance. But I assumed if I did, I could charm the socks off of some guy and we'd live into our eighties in mutual content or something. Not-"
"Be married off like some sort of property?"
You know this is for the best. Deep down, you really do. It doesn't make you feel any less queasy. For about the thousandth time, you hope and pray this mystery guy is at least decent.
"We'll be with you," Niki reminds and presses her chosen masquerade mask into your hands. A thin sheet of netherite forged into the shape of an elegant mask and dyed a red to match your dress. It's accented by real gold that lines the edges of the accessory. Red poppies sit at the upper right hand of the mask, nestled with some molded gold flowers. It's pretty.
"You going for a Nether look?" Puffy questions half-jokingly, looking at your planned attire.
"Probably," you reply lightheartedly.
That night, you huddle beneath the blankets with your friends like small girls telling secrets at a sleepover. Puffy tells you about their business and Niki shares stories of strange customers they've received over the weeks since you last went down to visit them.
Dawn breaks and you can barely register the sounds of maids ushering you out of bed and hustling on your traveling clothes. Niki and Puffy seem to have no problem getting up despite the earliness though you suppose that would be typical given their career.
Your baggage is being moved out already and you send a silent apology to Athena as she flies in through the window amidst the unusual chaos. She instinctively goes to perch on your forearm and you whisper a quick good morning as you walk out a hurry down for a short breakfast. Before you know it, you're being helped into the carriage and you're on your way.
You fall asleep for a few hours, leaning against the window and watching the world wheel by. Coupled with the rhythmic clops of the horses' strides, the warm chatter of your friends, and the view of trees, plains, and wildlife passing by, you're eventually lulled to dreamland.
You dream of candles and poorly lit rooms. There's the shadow of somebody in front of you, face blurry and partially obscured. They reach out to you, running their thumb along the apple of your cheek. Something wet and warm lingers and cakes the smooth of your skin when it dries. A metallic scent fills your senses and you realize with a tinge of horror that it's blood.
"Meet me under the willow tree," an unfamiliar voice whispers and you open your mouth to tell them that you know of no such landmark.
Before you can respond, the dream fades and you wake up to the sun hanging in the middle of the sky and confusion stirring in your chest.
When you see the castle, the sun is just barely touching the horizon and the sky is just barely altered to match the time of day. You perk up, sitting up straighter when the border of trees falls away. It's vastly larger than your home, and darker too. The bricks are painted black, contrary to your white castle but not in the this-place-is-where-you-will-die-and-the-spirits-of-a-thousand-damned-souls-reside-here kind of way. It's elegant. Enchanting, even.
There are more spires to count than your castle and the estate just seems to sprawl. If you were some gold digger for wealth, this would certainly tempt anybody.
Footmen are already awaiting your arrival, helping you down as you gaze upwards at the building with wonder. The sky is actually burning now, blazing with reds, oranges, and yellows that add a fiery background to the architecture. It vaguely reminds you of bastions that you've read about in the Nether.
Your father joins your side, settling a heavy hand upon your shoulder. He looks up as well to the building. It's intimidating and inside holds all the information to your future.
Niki and Puffy are ushered off with Athena and your bags to the rooms you'd be staying in. Father had notified that you'd be bringing along friends and supposedly, they assured you that they had more than enough guest rooms.
You're lead into the foyer where two people stand, linked by arms. One is a charming man with blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, dressed in fine green robes. The other is a beautiful woman who sends a charming smile your way upon seeing you. Her eyes seem light despite the darkness that matches her hair.
You curtsy politely when you stop in front of them.
"Welcome," the man speaks, voice warm and inviting, "We've been eagerly awaiting your arrival."
"Thank you," Father replies with a kind expression, "I'll be honest, Phil, it's sort of miraculous how we've accomplished this."
The man, Phil, chuckles. "That it is," he agrees before motioning to the woman at his side, "This is my wife and queen to our land, Kristin."
"Wonderful to meet you," she says brightly and you note that her accent is vastly out of place. It's charming though, and you think it fits her well.
"To you as well," you chime in because you don't want to let your father do all the talking.
Their focus shifts to you, faces softening with realization. "Your daughter, I presume?" Phil asks.
You nod. "That, I am."
"Oh, you're so lovely," Kristin gushes, smile growing, "If only Techno could see you."
"Technoblade is our eldest," Phil explains helpfully, "and your future...husband."
You understand the way he hesitates to say the word. It's not one you can just toss around so easily, especially in times like this.
"Where is he, if I may inquire?" You ask.
"He's at the northern border right now, making sure our military is stocked appropriately and that there have been no breaches in security," Kristin says, shifting her arm to match on more securely to Phil's.
"Is there an issue?" Your father's eyebrows raise.
"No, no," Phil assures, "We're just making sure nobody can take advantage of the wedding. You know, as a time of weakness and all."
"Come along," Kristin suddenly jumps in, motioning to you and untangling herself from Phil's side, "I'll show you where you'll be staying."
Your father encourages you to follow and Phil merely smiles at his wife's eagerness. You curtsy to the latter and he bows back, bidding you farewell and telling you that he'd see you at supper.
"So," Kristin starts when you're far away enough, "tell me about yourself."
You bite your lip, trying to think of anything interesting that might leave a lasting impression. Nothing seems to stick. "I'm not sure if there's anything worth mentioning, come to think of it," you admit sheepishly, embarrassment raising heat to your face.
Kristin chuckles. "I know it's a little nerve-wracking, being thrown into all this so suddenly," she says understandingly, "I was in the same predicament when Phil brought me here and I had to meet the prior king and queen."
"You're from another entire country, aren't you?" You ask softly.
"I am!" She smiles and seems to take pride in the fact, "I was part of a family of merchants. We just happened to be selling at the local market when the royal family happened to be down."
You hum, taking in the candles that line the walls and provide light to the walls where various paintings are strung up. Multiple are landscapes, highlighting nature in arrays of greens and browns, sometimes accompanied by a splash of vibrant color.
"Can you," you trail off but Kristin is already looking at you curiously, "Can you describe who he is? Technoblade?"
She makes an 'ah' motion with her mouth and nods as you enter a massive room with a sprawling flight of stairs at the opposite end from where you stand. You gape at the sight, looking up to see a golden chandelier glittering with crystals hanging off the thin branches precariously.
"This is where we'll have the ball," Kristin says, patting your lower back to gently remind you to keep walking, "Of course, it'll be more done up when we actually set it up."
You manage a nod, wondering how it could possibly get better. Following Kristin, you hear her hum as she thinks. "Technoblade, Technoblade..." She murmurs, "Well, he's very intelligent. Spends a lot of his time in our library."
At least he's book smart. You let out a brief sigh at that, but hope you don't have to be involved with talks about stocks and the prices of what a material item should really be.
"What sort of reading material? Do you know?" You feel slightly bad for questioning her like she was a victim of a crime scene.
Kristin didn't seem to mind. "Greek mythologies mostly. He's been fascinated with them ever since he was a little boy."
Your step stutters for a moment. You loved Greek stories ever since your mother read them to you and you'd fall asleep to the droning of her gentle voice. Perhaps the subject could be common ground?
You get pulled out of your musings when a voice cuts through the air, loud and boisterous borderline screaming, "MUM! MUUUM!!!"
Kristin stops, waiting and you look curiously at her before a figure appears at the top of the stairs, descending down them in a haste. The boy is lanky and tall, easily towering over you, and has a head full of golden curls. His eyes are a sunny baby blue and they look at you with interest.
"Mum, who's this?" He demands immediately and you hide a small laugh at his sudden change in interest behind your hand.
"This is the daughter of the Eastern king," Kristin supplies shortly, turning to look at you apologetically. "This is my youngest, Tommy."
You notice he'd seemingly inherited much of Phil's physical attributes and think of how you hadn't seen it before.
"Oh!" Tommy pipes up, "You're the girl my brother's supposed to marry, right?"
"I am," you answer with a grin.
"Oh, good luck to you," Tommy rolls his eyes in over-exaggeration, "He's a fuckin' wrongen."
"Is he now?" You question, amused, "How so?"
"He's hella boring," Tommy slumps, poor posture riddling his spine, "And he never does anything with me."
"That's not true," another new voice cuts in, "Tommy, you're not slandering our brother's good name to his bride-to-be before they've even met, are you?"
You look up to see another boy, a little taller than Tommy with dark brown curls sweeping over his forehead and eyes to match.
"Are you the middle child?" You ask and the man grins.
"I'm Wilbur," he says in place of a greeting, extending a hand for you to shake. You take it. "Don't let this gremlin get to your head. Technoblade is cool."
"I'll take your word for it."
You have dinner in a grand dining hall. Wilbur seems particularly interested in talking with Niki in a friendly manner while Tommy tells you stories about Technoblade.
"He's a really good fuckin' fighter," he mentions, and that piques your interest.
"Is he?" You murmur between bites of roasted chicken.
"Yeah! That's why he oversees our army. Mans can use all sorts of weapons and knows, like, all sorts of combat," he eats a few vegetables. "'course he wouldn't be as good as he is without-"
His phrase is suddenly cut off and you look to see Phil's eyes glaring daggers at his son before giving you a pained sort of smile. You expect Tommy to go on rebelliously just out of spite.
Instead, he turns his eyes to his plate and doesn't say anything else.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You don't know when you get to the ball.
Time seems to fly and before you know it, there's a blood-red dress hanging loosely from your shoulders and a mask sitting comfortably on your facial features as you glance around the room. People from all about the western kingdom mill around the large ballroom like Kristin had promised, conversing and making space in the middle for dancing couples who are swaying to the orchestra playing.
You haven't asked anybody to dance nor has anybody presented you with a request so you hang back and hide in the crowd, watching Niki dance with Wilbur. They seem like they're having fun and that's all that personally matters to you. It was getting sort of boring, loitering around and waiting for something interesting to happen.
"Lovely evening, isn't it?"
The voice rumbles near you and you turn to see who it was. The man is tall with long pink locks pulled back into an elegant braid that hangs down his spine. Contrary to the rest of the guests who don elegant masks to match outfits, the man wears a bleached boar skull that straps securely around his head. The eye sockets might as well have been voids that obscured any eyes beneath and it leaves only his mouth visible.
"Indeed," you answer, taken off guard. "How's your evening so far?"
"Decent," he says, "Though events such as these unfortunately aren't really my cup of tea."
"Why did you show up then?" You ask curiously.
"Call it mandatory," the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, "Believe me, I'd rather be doing anything else."
"I see," you murmur, glancing back to watch the current dance.
The room is illuminated by candles that give it a golden glow. The soft murmurs of people overlapping make for a pleasant white noise effect that accompanies the sounds of singing violins and soft cellos. You look at the man out of the corner of your eye and note that he's quite tall. So tall that you might even look tiny next to him.
"Do you know the king and queen?" You ask the man, deciding that small talk wouldn't hurt.
"You could say that," he hums, "Word tells me a foreign maiden's supposed to marry their eldest to close a peace treaty."
"A tragedy, don't you think?"
"Perhaps," he pauses, "Though I suppose it depends on the two's opinions on the matter. To be forced to marry a complete stranger could unsettle one quite quickly."
"I agree," you say, not sure why you're so determined to prove yourself to this newcomer. Perhaps it's the mysterious man you've been wishing for all this time. You're suddenly struck with an idea. "Do you dance?"
The nose of his mask dips to look down at you as if he's trying to predict any trickery beneath your inquiry. You blink innocently up at him.
"Only with those who can keep up," he answers and you know he's challenging you.
You square your shoulders. "I'd like to see you keep up."
"Well then," he chuckles and the sound makes the hairs on your neck prickle, "I suppose it's on me to properly show you when I have your next dance."
"Is that a question or a statement, sir?" You tease lightly.
"Whichever gets you to say yes," his lips form a cocky smirk, but something about it makes the pit of your stomach stir just a little bit.
When the current song comes to a close, the man holds out a hand to you. It's a silent invitation, something much more intimate than a strapping out-of-breath lad coming up and clumsily asking for the next song. You lift up your hand, glancing up at him briefly before placing it in his. The skin-on-skin contact gives you a jolt and you wonder incredulously if he had a fever. He was irregularly warm and his hand enveloped yours quite fully as it was quite bigger in comparison. You don't get to voice your concerns before he was pulling you gently to the center of the floor.
You find out it's not just his hand that radiates heat, but rather his whole body. When you tangle yourselves into position before the next song starts, your breath stutters when his scent passes over you. It's vaguely ash and death masked poorly with lemon and cedar. It's the smell of wither attempted to be disguised with pleasant fragrances. He's a fearsome warrior, you could deduce that much.
The violin rings out in the beginning notes and it only takes a moment for the two of you to adjust to the tempo. You let him lead.
"Pray tell," you begin, "What is your name?"
"Names are confidential little things," he answers lightly, "Protesilaus."
You smile. "Like the Greek hero?"
"You could say that. And what of your name?"
"If I should call you Protesilaus tonight, then I'll be Laodamia," you grin, playing along with the theme.
"You're witty," Protesilaus notes, "Clever of you to already figure out that it's an alias."
"Call it a gift," you shrug as he spins you, "I'm perfectly satisfied to have somewhat of a name to match your somewhat of a face."
"You're familiar with Greek stories then?" He pulls you close and his touch burns.
"I'm an avid enjoyer of them, actually."
You fall into content silence. It feels like a scandal, being in the arms of a man who you're not supposed to be in. You should've been dancing with the mysterious young soldier home from the northern border with snowflakes caught in his hair and a stupid smile on his face.
"Why the long face, Laodamia?" Protesilaus's voice draws you from your gloomy thoughts.
"Just thinking," you murmur, "I think it just might be a crime to be dancing with you tonight."
"Then become a convict," he says as if it's the simplest solution in the world, "Besides, I do believe it'd be difficult for me to pull away from you now."
"Why's that?"
"You match your alias to mine and challenge me to a dance which I've led for the entire time we've been here," he points out and you flush at the mention of your lack of competitiveness, "You intrigue me."
"Truly the highest honor you could bestow upon me," you muse, "You're not a man who's easily impressed, are you Protesilaus?"
"I am not," he agrees, "Though you seem to have effortlessly left quite the imprint on me."
"Then I consider that an achievement," you smile.
The song swells then recedes, the instruments wrapping up the notes and drawing them out before fading. You think of how easy it is to talk with the man and bittersweetly wish you might be able to wed him instead.
The orchestra prepares another piece and you suddenly feel awkward. Is there where you bid the man goodbye? Do you discreetly hover by him in hopes he'd spare you another chat? Or do you try and make another conversation?
Thankfully, he covers it for you. Your throat dries when he leans down, the nose of his mask tilted to avoid hitting you. His breath is warm in your ear.
"Would you mind terribly if you could join me on the balcony?" Protesilaus asks.
Your heart jumps and your mind blanks for a moment. "Yes, of course."
"I'll be at the stairs in a moment," he says and before you can ask where he's off to, he disappears into the crowd.
Your mouth is still hanging open wordlessly when hands come up from behind and grasp your arms. Excited squeals from your friends fill your ears.
"Who was that?" Puffy demands.
"You were giving him eyes," Niki chimes in and you sigh.
"Protesilaus," you murmur. They stare at you as if you'd just spoken in Enchantment Table. You laugh. "I have to go meet him somewhere. Does that mean anything?"
"Most likely," Niki says, "But remember not to get attached. You're still-"
"Technically forced to marry a stranger that's not even here?" Puffy asks.
"Right," Niki settles hands on your shoulders, "You're your own person. I trust you'll know what to do."
You nod and they give you encouraging smiles and whispers of good luck, ushering you towards the staircase. You weave between people, excusing yourself when you accidentally push until you reach the marble of the steps that shines beneath candlelight.
You crane your head, looking for Protesilaus until you spot his head over everyone else, making his way to you. When he breaks from the crowd, you can see two moderately filled wine glasses filled in his hands. He hands you one and you gratefully take a sip. The taste of berries splashes your taste buds.
He nods at the guard that stands at his post at the stairs who merely turns a blind eye to his advances. Protesilaus motions you upward. You climb the flight of stairs, making sure to pick up your skirts so you don't trip. You can only imagine how mortified you'd be if that happened.
The night air is cool when he pushes open glass doors and lets you onto the platform. The view is beautiful, the gardens washed with moonlight, and flowers closed buds for the night.
"I'm gonna assume you have some sort of role in the castle," you say, "if you can get up here that easily."
"I underestimate you and your deductive reasoning," he replies instead of an answer, but it's light-hearted. You go to lean against the railings, looking at the flowers, but then squint at a large shadow in the distance.
"What's that?" You ask.
"A willow tree," he answers smoothly, joining your side, "It's pretty old but holds precious memories for the royal family."
You nod in understanding, bringing the brim of your glass to your lips and drinking. "So why did you bring me up here?"
He hums in question.
"Some kind of serial killer? I'm alone and defenseless," you say as if trying to bait him, "Just a damsel in distress with a stranger."
"I can assure you, death would be the last thing I'd wish on you, Laodamia," he replies evenly, but you can hear the laughter behind his words, "I wouldn't be surprised if you produced a poison-tipped dagger to take me down with you at the last minute."
"Maybe I will," you counter and smile.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You're terribly confused.
All you had wished for was a trip to the castle's library, but there's been nothing but strange whispers filling your ears all day. Kristin had gladly directed you in the right direction, but you couldn't ignore the way the maids hurriedly gossiped into each other's ears, poorly shielding their words with their hands while stealing quick glances at you.
"That's her, isn't it?"
"Poor lass. I wish her the best of luck."
"If only it were any of the other sons."
"What, with his curse and all..."
"Yes, a real shame such beauty must go to waste."
It wasn't the first time it happened either. When you were at dinner before the ball, you heard the mentions of some sort of curse that the prince bore.
You rush downstairs, trying to dodge any more mysterious rumors, but the word loops in your head, bearing too heavy of a weight to ignore. Curse, curse, curse. Who were you exactly marrying? You pass by Phil and he calls your name, stopping you abruptly in your tracks. He offers you a kind smile as he approaches.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself last night," he begins, but you can feel it's just a conversation starter. You're too tired to deal with it.
"Please just cut to the chase," you borderline beg and he must have heard the desperation in your tone. He sighs.
"Techno is in the library," he says and your throat closes, "if you would like to meet him."
Your head suddenly spins, the floor rocks beneath your feet but you keep up the illusion of staying grounded and nod. "Thank you, Phil."
He gives you a smile, a "Good luck, mate," and a thumbs up before returning to his walk. You struggle to breathe. Technoblade, the mysterious prince who bears some sort of curse and is to be your husband is nearby, idly flicking through pages with no idea of the storm you're about to bring. You struggle to comprehend it, pace picking up as you near the room.
The walls are lined with endless shelves of books and you catch the faint smells of pages, ink, and dust. Light filters into the room through glass windows set high above everything else. It's beautiful and you feel like you would trap yourself in here for days if you weren't on a mission. You had initially come here to read a book or two, but with Phil's tip, you had slightly more pressing matters to attend to.
You make sure to elicit as little noise as possible, cringing when a wooden plank would creak beneath your foot or when you breathed a little too heavy. It wasn't long before you heard the telltale sound of a piece of paper flipped over, the exhale of somebody lost in another world. Your breath hitches and you peek around the corner.
A hand flies to your mouth in horror.
Familiar pink locks are pressed against the spines of multiple books as he leans against them. He's sat on the ground, the snout of his pig mask tilted down to read the pages of a book titled, "The Song of Achilles". His large form seems all too small and all too big cramped between shelves where he sits on the floor.
"Come on out," he suddenly says without looking up and you feel like fear slid a cold finger down your back.
You timidly step out and the corners of his mouth turn downwards when he catches the sight of you.
"Laodamia?" He asks and your heart stutters. He remembers. He remembered you. He recognized you despite the lack of mask.
"You weren't lying when you said I had a lasting impression on you, huh?" You whisper because your voice can't seem to handle anything louder.
"No. No, I wouldn't," he shifts, standing up to his full height and closing the book in his hands, "What are you doing here?"
"I was told I'd find the prince here," you twiddle your fingers nervously, "But it seems you're the only one to be currently occupying the place."
He looks at you in silence for a moment and you flick your eyes downward to avoid the dead gaze of empty eye sockets. "Laodamia, you're smart," he says and you almost feel offended, "The facts are all there for you to piece together."
"It's not like you're the prince," you scoff. He stares at you. Your expression falters. "Right?"
"I've been awaiting your arrival for a long time," he says quietly.
The world feels like it's ending and starting at the same time. Last night, you danced with a man named Protesilaus who charmed you with dances and wine on a balcony overlooking a moon-kissed garden. Today, you meet a man named Technoblade who reveals the truth of his identity and is patiently waiting for your reaction with a deadpan.
"You're," you can barely force the words out, "Technoblade, the eldest son of the Western kingdom."
"I am," he steps a little closer to you. You resist the urge to match his advance backward, "And you are the only princess of the Eastern kingdom."
Tension runs rampant between the two of you and you take in a deep breath. "Well," you begin, "I suppose you're not the worst person in the world to end up with."
"I could say the same thing back at you," the corners of his mouth twitch upward ever so slightly. You don't return the gesture.
It's common ground. You purse your lips extend a hand out for him to shake. "Shall we start over?"
Technoblade glances at your invitation of contact and looks at you. You can feel yourself being scrutinized by his heavy gaze, prying you open and trying to spot any faults in your request. Seemingly finding none, he takes your hand in his and gives a firm handshake.
It was electric, the way heat raced over your palm and seeped into your arm. You subconsciously missed his touch since last night, much to your embarrassment and shame. His skin is rough, calloused. It's the hands of a warrior. You pull away as soon as possible, hoping that your palm didn't start getting clammy.
The two of you stand in awkward silence as you had done when you finished dancing together the other night. You're not sure what to say. So you don't say anything at all. Your eyes tear away from him and latch onto the floorboards beneath you.
"Excuse me," you mumble, giving an improper and rushed curtsy in lieu of a goodbye. You don't let him reply as you spin on your heel and speed walk out of the library, weaving between the shelves and exiting through the double doors with an obnoxious creak.
The dust that had flown through the air and seemed to add to the charm earlier rushed into your lungs all at once and only served to suffocate you now. You're not sure how to feel. Betrayal? Anger? Sadness? Something gives you the impression that he knew who you were from the moment he spoke those first words to you last night. It only makes the irritation boil beneath your skin.
You might have wished you could've married Protesilaus, but you decide you'd rather fall off the face of the earth than be bound to Technoblade.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
The next time you run into Technoblade, you're fairly certain if looks could kill he'd be dead on the floor.
You just wanted a cup or two of tea. Something light that would calm your nerves that had been pinballing wildly ever since your encounter with Techno in the library. The castle layout is becoming familiar to you now, thanks to Kristin's guidance and your independent exploring. You're on your way to the kitchens when you nearly run into someone coming in from the right-hand corridor. Your mouth opens to give an apology, but the sight of a certain mask makes you snap it shut.
"Sorry," Techno mumbles, "Just on my way to get some tea."
You know it's bad when you feel your eyes narrow and gaze harden at his words and the sight of him. You've never been a spiteful person but...Well, there's a first time for everything.
"Of course," you mutter bitterly.
"May I ask why you have such a distaste for me?" Techno asks and you fold your arms tightly against your chest as if it could shield you.
"Believe me," you begin tightly, "You're a respectable enough man, Protesilaus." The name is now acid on your tongue, and you practically spit it out. "But, I'm not one to eagerly jump into the arms of a stranger at the first sign of common niceties. I don't take marriage lightly and some shoddy piece of paper won't change that."
The weight of tension is thick like some elephant had gotten into the room and you were insistently trying to ignore it. You try to read him through the mask, but can't decipher anything other than the way his mouth pulls down into a frown.
"You're your own woman," he finally says, "You're not emotionally connected to me in any way nor do I expect you to be."
"Then what do you expect from me?"
You stare at him. "You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"You must be," you push, eyebrows knitting together. It doesn't make sense. Frustration gathers in your chest and words spill from your mouth before you can filter them. "If Protesilaus was a lie, how can I trust that you won't be as well?"
His lack of response was proof enough. You walk away from the conversation disappointed.
And you didn't even get your tea.
That night, you can barely sleep. Negative emotions roll over you then recede and just as you think you may be able to fall asleep, they swell back and overwhelm you to the point of insomnia. It was like the tides in the ocean, rolling onto the beach then drawing back to make way for the next wave. You get up and stretch, thinking that maybe a walk would do you good. Athena has not returned from her hunt yet, so it must still be well into the hours of the night.
You bring a candlestick with you to light the way as you pad down the halls as quietly as possible. Guards line the entrances of rooms and each gives a nod of acknowledgment to you as you pass them by. You pause by one of the balcony doors, the glass reflecting your frown as you reminisce about two figures drinking wine on the hanging platform.
You shake your head as if to rid yourself of the thought. You bitterly think of how it was a lie. You had been fooled, emotions toyed with by a stranger person. You firmly remind yourself you're not some puppet on a string and continue onward.
You reach a higher floor, one you don't expect to stay at for long. Thinking about it, you should honestly get going back to your own bed despite the walk not helping much. Just then, the door next to you and a very tired-looking Wilbur's eyes widen upon seeing your figure.
"Sorry," you whisper out, careful not to wake anybody, "I promise I was just going for a walk."
Wilbur waves it off good-naturedly. "No problem. I was just heading back to my room as well so…"
"What were you doing? If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"Playing guitar for Techno," he answers then pales as if he said something he shouldn't have.
You then notice something strapped to his back like a large shadow. You assume that must be his instrument. "You play?" You question instead.
"Ever since I was little," he admits, bumping it up on his back and readjusting the strap, "It also helps that it calms down Techno's headaches."
You blink in confusion. "Headaches?"
Wilbur pales once again and he mumbles something incoherent before saying louder, "Well would you look at the time. I should probably get going to bed. You should too. I'll see you around, yeah?"
You don't get to respond before he disappears into a room across the hall.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"I just love this blend," Kristin says brightly, stirring a sugarcube into the steaming porcelain cup in her hands. A Wither Rose is painted on the side, the black accented by a dark purple.
"It smells sweet," you lean down to distinctly inhale the scent from your own cup, "and fruity."
"Honeyed-fruit," Kristin smiles kindly at you, bringing her cup to her lips and sipping, "It may be one of my favorites but Techno also likes it. His favorite is the Four-Spice blend, though."
You bristle slightly at the mention of his name, but the queen doesn't seem to notice. It's a sunny afternoon, rays shining warmly through multiple windows and into the sitting room you currently sit in with Kristin. Wilbur and Tommy are playing chess. Well, they were trying to, but the latter kept making incorrect moves and Wilbur gave up trying to explain a while ago.
"He's a fuckin' freak," Tommy grumbles, rolling his eyes and moving his bishop two spaces forward. Will idly nudges it back, earning a glare from the younger. "Why does he even like his tea spicy? That's just weirdchamp."
"Different people have different tastes, dear," Kristin answered.
"Well his tastes are wrong," Tommy states and protests when Wilbur captures one of his pieces.
"He told me it calms him down," Wilbur mumbles, watching Tommy for any more moves against the rules, "Well they like it anyway."
The room falls silent and you don't like it. The three of them give each other side glances, a silent vow to not let you in on the secret whatsoever. It didn't matter. You didn't want to know anyway. Right?
"He's been under a lot of stress recently," Kristin hums decisively, "As soon as he gained news of the treaty, he immediately set out to check up on all the borders of the kingdom. I daresay he needs some form of peace, even if it's just a simple cup of tea."
"He's so cool," Tommy rested his head in his face, smushing his cheek slightly.
"Make up your mind," Wilbur cheekily grins at Tommy, "You're gonna give our poor princess mixed signals."
"I'm right here," you chime in, though you don't really mind.
"Well, he's better than you," Tommy sticks out his tongue at the elder before shrieking when Wilbur fakes grabbing at it.
"That boy stresses too much," Kristin tsks, "He'll have one foot in the grave before he can ever settle down."
"Sounds like a real piece of work," you mumble, but unfortunately, she catches onto it.
"Don't be too harsh on him," she scolds gently, "Techno is...he's special. Nonetheless, the two of you will be ruling alongside each other. It's a big responsibility."
"I know," you blink, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, "I just - I always thought I'd be ruling over my kingdom with or without someone at my side. Which, if you haven't noticed, is considerably smaller than yours."
Kristin hums in understanding. "It's intimidating, I know. Heck, I've been there!" She giggles a little. "Do you think I thought I would be queen back when I was a merchant's daughter?"
You consider her words for a moment. At least you at least had some preparation to rule something big from a young age. You can barely imagine what it would feel like to be thrown into this life's chaos with nothing but hope and a man who wanted to marry you on your side.
"It's a lot of pressure," you shrug, "I guess I just don't want to screw anything up."
"And that's okay," Kristin reaches across the small table the two of you sit at and wraps her hands securely around yours in a vague mother-like way. You haven't felt a maternal touch in years. "You'll have mess-ups! The important thing is that you and Techno will be in it together."
You swallow thickly and nod. She gives you a smile before pulling back and returns to her tea as you mull over your thoughts. Perhaps you were being too cold to Techno. After all, it was a masquerade. And maybe it was fun playing as someone else for a night instead of a high and mighty warrior prince. As Kristin said, you'd be ruling together.
You look out one of the windows and see a blue butterfly hovering over an allium before landing on the flowers.
Perhaps you could get to know him instead. After all, a coworker is easier to work with than a one-sided rivalry that he never even contributed to.
You feel yourself smile slightly, head tilting down as you bring your teacup to your lips. You make a face.
Your tea is cold.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Nature always seemed to calm you down in the worst of times.
You're not as familiar with the castle grounds as you were with the interior and today, you were planning to change that. The days here always seem perfect for exploring the outdoors with a dry kind of heat. The pleasant kind that doesn't make sweat drip from just standing in the sun while a breeze sweeps through the area that balances out the weather perfectly.
You wander about the place, by the garden, and through the stables. You admire their horses and one of the stablehands insists you take one of them for a ride sometime and you promise that you would. Here, outside in the air, is where you truly feel at home.
You turn a corner, listening to the birds twitters and the trees rustle before something else catches your ear. Was that...shouting? It wasn't a pleasant kind either and your suspicions are confirmed when you hear the clashes of metal. Curiosity gets the better of you, feet carrying you to the noise. You discover there's a large pavilion-type building and the sounds of fighting seem to source from inside.
You keep your steps as quiet as you can as you place a hand on one of the chiseled quartz pillars and peek into the space.
The floor is all sawdust or something like it, steps bordering the main area leading to a raised platform where weapons of all sorts line the wall and chests. However, that's not the thing that catches your eye. Technoblade is in the center of a ring of five soldiers, seemingly surrounded. His mask stays strapped to his face as he holds an iron training sword in his hand.
They seem to be waiting tensely for something to happen when the first guy lunges. His iron axe comes down, only to dig into the dirt where Techno had been and causes dust to poof up. He coughs as he tries to recover, but stumbles over when a flash of pink appears behind him and delivers a swift kick to his backside.
Technoblade's quick to parry a blow from another soldier that aimed for his neck. All while fighting, he was shouting over the men and metal, instructing their stances and techniques. You watched, mesmerized. There was something hypnotic about watching him face off five different people and you can see why Tommy regarded him so highly when it came to combat.
He exhausted the men fairly quickly, barely breaking a sweat himself and calling a five-minute break. You watch him turn and swallow when he catches sight of you. He freezes and you bite the inside of your cheek, reminding yourself that you're playing nice now. You let a foot fall onto a step below and look cautiously to him to see if you could come down. He regards you for a moment before nodding and motioning you to him. You pick up your skirts and carefully flit down the steps.
"You're not here to train, are you?" Techno asks warily when you're close enough. You allow yourself to crack a smile at that.
"No. The last weapon I handled was a bow when I was eight," you smile fondly at the memory, "My father was showing me and the string snapped back. Had a bloody arm that hurt like a bitch for a week or two after that."
"You'd make a decent archer," Techno says and you're not sure whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. Decent was neutral, wasn't it? "Do you normally use that sort of language?"
You cock an eyebrow. "Saying 'bitch'? Is that a problem?"
"Not at all," he waves it off, "It's refreshing, actually. I don't hear many women be so independent with their speech patterns nowadays. By all means, you could have the mouth of a sailor and I wouldn't mind."
Perhaps he wasn't so bad. You feel a genuinely appreciative smile crawl on your lips. You cast a look down to where the group of men was chattering amongst themselves, discussing the recent spar. You catch hints of talk about forms and murmurs about how Technoblade was too good.
"Your skill is very impressive," you say, turning back to Techno and his head raises a little at the compliment.
"Thank you," he pauses, "Would you like to stay and watch? I'm sure the rookies won't mind and perhaps an audience member would be a good drive to push their best."
You don't have anything else to do and the offer is tempting. Besides, you could admire Techno use a little bit of entertainment.
"Okay," you agree and snicker when he seems a little surprised upon you taking up his offer.
"Right, uh," he glances around, "Take a seat anywhere, I guess. I mean - We don't have any proper chairs so the steps will have to do."
"That's fine," you assure him, "I used to read on the stairs a bunch at home."
"How'd you feel after that?"
"Oh, terrible," you smile and he actually chuckles. It's quiet but you catch it. You're not sure why you're being so attentive to his mannerism now. "I'd be sore from hours on end, but gods - gods the experience was worth it."
"I bet," he tilts his head. You feel like he wants to ask something else, but instead, he says, "I should probably get back to it. Stick around for as long as you like."
You nod and he picks up a stray rag from somewhere, turning so nobody can see as he lifts up his mask to wipe at his face beneath. You're curious about that mystery as well but it doesn't bother you as much as it might have before. After all, it might be a comfort thing.
You end up staying for the rest of their training session, downcasting your eyes when they linger on Techno's flexing muscles a bit too long.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Athena sits on your shoulder as you walk the cobblestone path at dusk. You wanted to see her off for the night and besides, you'd taken a liking to the outdoors of the kingdom. It was just as magical during the night as it was during the day. Fireflies filled the air, flickering like a flame on the end of a candlestick.
Your steps halt when a building you've never seen before catches your eye. It looked sort of like a stable but you recall that the actual stables weren't for another few turns down the path. Curiously, you reach up so Athena could step onto your forearm as you drew near it. You quietly slip inside only to be faced with black eyes and an aggressive low growl.
It's significantly darker inside, but you can barely make out the shape of some sort of massive furry shadow and you get the hint that it probably doesn't take kindly to outsiders. Your owl companion is already puffing up her feathers defensively, unsettled by the obvious unwelcome. You do your best to keep steady as she launches off your arm for the rafters above, eying the creature warily.
"Steve, down. She's good," a monotonous voice cuts through the air and you turn to see Techno entering in casually, a bucket in hand.
The bear almost instantly stops, a bit comically if you're being honest. You glance curiously at the man as he makes his way over to the enclosed pen and opens the latch. The added light lets you see a little better and-
"Is that a polar bear?" You ask incredulously.
"Yup," he says, popping the 'p', "His name's Steve."
"Steve," you repeat and snicker, "That's very creative."
"I was fourteen, okay?" He retorts, but you can hear that it's lighthearted, "Didn't really have much of the creative juices flowing back then."
"I can tell," you murmur, stepping to the edge and peering inside. Steve was quite big but now that he just looked like a big ol' ball of fluff.
"You can come in if you'd like," Techno mentions idly, stepping inside and holding out hands for the bear to bump his head into affectionately.
"Are you sure?" You ask, watching their interaction. It's clear they had some form of bond since you assume taming a polar bear was no small task. You can practically feel the adoration Techno holds for him as he pets Steve, murmuring things to him that you can't quite make out.
It's oddly...endearing.
"Yeah. I'm here so he won't bite," he assures you, motioning you in, "I got him when he was a cub. I was going with Phil to the tundra and he was out there all alone so I took him in."
You walk in cautiously. Steve blinks at you and tottles toward you, stretching to sniff your hand and you laugh lightly at the way his wet nose tickles.
"I don't suppose people regarded you too highly for that move," you murmur, carefully petting the space between Steve's ears.
"Oh, of course not. The servants hated him," Techno leans against the wall, tucking in a foot to prop behind him. "Having him out here was the only way I could keep him."
"I know the feeling," you murmur, "I had that experience with my barn owl when I first got her."
"Barn owl?"
"Yeah," you smile, "I got her from this traveling merchant. I tried releasing her 'cause, y'know, I wouldn't like to be caged. But she kept on coming back so I just let her do her own thing."
You reach over and tap the wall and in a flurry of feathers, Athena returns, perching on the wood with grace. She blinks then tilts her head at Techno, scrutinizing him.
"She's curious about you," you fill in unnecessarily to him.
A smile tugs at his lips. "What about me is there to be curious about?"
"Well, you look nothing like either of your parents for one," you begin, "Your hair doesn't anyway. I've noticed that no normal colored roots grow in so your pink must be natural."
"It is," he clarifies, pushing himself off the wall and joining your side. Steve seems more than happy with the predicament of getting pets from more than just Techno.
You watch Techno lean past you, bending down to retrieve the bucket he was carrying before. You lean over to peer in a little and can see that it's full of limp cod, eyes glassy amongst the ice the bodies slump over in. The polar bear pulls away at the promise of food and you smile as Techno begins tossing him the fish one by one.
You don't expect laughter to bubble from your lips when Steve moves a bit too fast and earns a cod to the face. You catch the man next to you glance at you briefly.
"I've never heard you laugh," he says quietly, and your smile is quick to fade, "Not even with Protesilaus."
Laughter is second nature to you and it's a surprise you'd never done it once around him. Especially around Protesilaus on the first night you met. The mention makes you pause.
"That's a shame," you press your lips together, looking back at where Steve is happily gnawing on the carcass of a cod, "for I so dearly love to laugh. Perhaps I'll have to let you hear it more often."
Your cheeks flush when you feel the weight of his gaze return to you and Athena nipping the back of your dress, almost as if to reprimand you.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You meet him with less bitterness each time you stop each other in passing for a short conversation and even hold occasional ones over dinner. It's a bit shameful how you're settling into life here with Phil, Kristin, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy.
You're in the library, fingers finding the corners of pages and brushing over the creases of where people had previously dog-eared them. It occurs to you how easily paper can be ruined. You could fold it once and the smooth purity will have been lost forever. Footsteps catch your attention and you see Techno peek around the corner of a line of shelves. You can't help the smile that tugs on your lips at the sight of him.
"Technoblade," you greet, closing the book you have in your hands and curtsying as he approaches.
"Would you like to take a turn about the gardens?" He asks and you look up at him, eyebrows raising up as you acknowledge his question. It's a bit abrupt, but you wouldn't deny the request. After all, you've found yourself coming to enjoy his company.
"Of course," you bite the inside of your cheek as you return the book in your hands to the vacant spot on the shelf where you'd gotten it from. "I daresay you'll have to lead me. Unfortunately, I'm not good at self-directing when it comes to unfamiliar places."
"That's fine," he says and slightly looks at you. His mouth curls into a shit-eating grin. "I did for the entirety of our dance."
You make a noise of mock offense. You're a bit past the whole betrayal of Protesilaus and it's become more of an inside joke between the two of you rather than ammo for petty arguments. It works better for both sides.
It's customary for a couple to link arms when you walk together, but when the two of you walk out of the library, there's a clear space between your bodies. You don't make a move and he doesn't offer.
The gardens are blooming, vibrant colors covering every conceivable patch of soil. Your eyes widen as you enter through the gates. Delicate petals sway in the summer wind, butterflies flit between flowers, bees hover discreetly over leaves before resting on them, shaded from the warm sun.
"It's beautiful," you murmur. You don't expect Techno to hear you.
"My mother directed most of the planting of the flora," he explains before stopping.
You open your mouth to reply, but the words get caught in your throat when he bends down to pick up a freshly fallen forget-me-not off of the ground. He carefully dusts off the ants along with spare smudges of dirt and you can't help but notice how gentle he holds the bloom despite the roughness that seemingly follows his name. Your heart stutters in your chest as he reaches up and cautiously tucks it behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin.
He asks about your life back at your kingdom.
"It's...modest," you hum after thinking, "The castle's definitely not as big as yours, but it's cozy and it's home. I guess that's the magic of it. It doesn't charm people with the sight so much as make you think that it's just an all-around nice place to be."
"I'll have to visit as soon as we can allow it," he muses.
"I'm not sure if there's anything worth your visit, Mr. High Prince," you tease with a cheeky grin.
"Well there's you," he defends.
You giggle at that. "I'm hardly worth the journey. Not much of a spectacle, am I?"
"You are," he insists and you feel the color flush your facial features.
"You flatter me," you mutter offhandedly.
"Not at all."
He walks you down the winding cobblestone paths, twisting around all sorts of flower patches in season. You can see workers over the wall, tending to the produce and offer them polite waves when they catch your eyes. The terrain dips and arches up into a small hill. The willow you had seen so long ago now stretches before you, an image like one would find in a storybook.
"You'd told me this tree holds many memories for your family," you say breathlessly.
"It does," Techno agrees, "Here, I can vividly recount Tommy's declarations of war against your kingdom before he understood what he was talking about or the strums of Wilbur's guitar when he played for us." He touches the trunk of the tree wistfully, almost like he was absorbing the thoughts through the wood.
"You really care for them," you feel the corners of your mouth pull upwards.
"I do," he turns to you, and you can feel the emotion behind his eyes even though you can't see them, "And your presence here is sure to be added onto the list of memories to cherish."
Heat rises to your cheeks and you laugh, loud and crystal clear. You mentally note to burn the image of him looking at you with sincerity despite the skull masking most of his face into your mind.
"You're going to kill me," you accuse playfully.
"Now why would I do such a thing to a friend?" He retorts and his words give you a pause. It's a good sort of pause though because your smile widens until your cheeks ache.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You feel a sense of deja vu when you travel down the hallway in hopes of getting a cup of tea. It only grows when you almost run into Techno who appears out of the right corridor so suddenly and you swerve to avoid an impact. You nearly trip on your own two feet, but he reaches out and helps you steady yourself before you can.
His warmth seeps through the sleeves of your dress and you almost pull away as if it shocked you.
"Sorry," he purses his lips and you can see embarrassment color what little features were visible beneath the mask.
"It's alright," you assure, dusting off your skirts and righting yourself up, "Where are you off to?"
"I was looking for you, actually," he admits and your perk up in interest, "I was, uh- I was wondering if you'd like to join me for tea."
Techno's fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, which you've learned he does when he's nervous about something. It's charming to you, in some odd way.
"Gladly," you grin brightly, stomach knotting in on itself.
It's something that's been occurring lately when you're around Techno. Your knees feel a little weaker, your stomach turns over and you laugh more easily when you're with him. It's not something that's a result of your friendship, you know because this never happened with Niki nor Puffy. However, you brush it off and fall into step next to him.
The two of you make your way to the sitting room and you take a seat on one of the plush chairs that are placed on each side of a small table. It's the same one you sat at with Kristin some time ago.
Techno asks what kind of tea you'd like and you perk up, asking if you could try the Four-Spice blend she had said he favored and he disappeared to go request it, promising he'd be back shortly.
When he returns, you shuffle to get comfortable.
"The sunset makes the room look pretty," you compliment because it does. The walls are washed in a fiery orange that makes you think of crackling logs and warmth during the winter.
Techno hums, propping his arm on the chair's armrest and rests his chin on his fist. "My mother's told you a lot about my interests, hasn't she? She's more perceptive than I give her credit for," he says and you grin.
"Give her a break," you lean over to lightly flick his arm, "My mom used to boast about my interests to everybody within earshot. It'd be hella embarrassing."
Techno's long past the initial surprise at your language. Instead, he asks, "Where is your mother, if you don't mind me asking? I've never seen her around."
You smile sadly. "We lost her when I was about eight to a disease."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Don't be! It's been a while anyway."
A maid drops the tea off and you can smell it from where you sit. Oddly enough, the scent settles some of the nerves that have been bouncing in the pit of your stomach. You can already see why it's Techno's favorite. You stir a bit of sugar into your cup while sitting in comfortable silence.
The tea isn't that spicy like Tommy had claimed. Sure it had a little kick to it, but it contributed to the overall flavor and made for an all-around nice blend.
You're grateful for the amicable peace that comes with spending time with Techno. It's easy to be around him, almost painfully so. You get lost in mindless conversation together, flitting from one topic to the next like hummingbirds.
"Come on," you give your best impression of puppy eyes.
"No," he replies flatly, "We're not having a National Cookie Day."
You click your tongue and roll your eyes. "Killjoy."
"Woah, woah, woah. Pump the breaks, princey," you gasp, "That insult's for Tommy and Tommy alone."
"I'm sorry. Does little shit have a better ring to it?"
He laughs out loud, and you have to take a moment. It's full like he might be choking at first but devolves into pure joy where he gasps around the noises. It makes your heart soar in an oddly sweet way.
It's warm, the way you sit drinking tea with Techno as the sun disappears beneath the horizon. Surprisingly, it might even be the happiest you've felt in a while. For just a little bit, you linger. You want to stay in the present and just reside where he is. For a moment in time, you want to be wherever he is and just exist in the now.
You want to give in to the butterflies. Give in to the way your heart races when he compliments you and laughs at your reaction. Give in to the way you feel like you're floating when he brushes hands with you. However, you stay grounded and in the present and just live.
Though, nothing good lasts forever.
That night, disaster struck.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
The banging on your door alerts you from your sleep and it's your first sign that something is horribly wrong.
You throw the covers off of you, hastening to the door and swinging it open with a grand creak. Niki's eyes are hollow and full of fear.
"Our home is under attack," she whispers and dread settles deep into your bones at her words.
You push past her, flying down the stairs against the servants' and guards' protests until you spot your father amidst the chaos that's occurring in the lobby.
"Father!" you rush out, "What the hell is going on?"
He doesn't comment on your use of vulgar language, but immediately answers, "An army is at our walls, trying to tear down our defenses," he says gravely, "You will be staying here for safety while I go with the militia to deal with the problem."
He's striding away from you in a moment and your lips purse tightly. Technoblade. He was at the head of the army here, wasn't he? You have to find him. Your feet carry you, darting around maids and butlers rushing to pack rations, soldiers sharpening spears and swords, archers testing the tension on their bowstrings, sharpshooters fiddling with the tension on crossbows. It's only when bright pink among the metal catches your eye that your nerves calm down a notch.
"Techno!" You call his name and his mask snaps to attention. His arms are already reaching for you when you break free to grasp his forearms tightly. For once, his body heat isn't at the forefront of your mind.
"What are you doing here?" He questions roughly, but you brush it off.
"You're leaving?" You ask incredulously.
"I have to," he replies and pauses, "I'll be honest, I didn't expect my visit to be so soon."
"You can't be joking at a time like this!" You cry out, the anxiety bubbling up and for once in all your years since childhood, you feel the urge to shed tears.
Techno's hold on you tightens ever so slightly, grounding you. "Laodamia, I'll make sure your kingdom is intact and ready for your return," he promises, "I swear it."
"Come back to me," your voice cracks as you plead. You don't know why it matters to you for him to stay alive, but it does and you don't have time to dwell over it.
"I will," Techno vows, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up beneath the bleached bone of his mask. Your breath leaves all at once when warm lips press against your knuckles.
Suddenly he's gone and you're being yanked away. It's significantly colder without his proximity, and your hand still reaches uselessly for him. Your vision blurs, filling with bodies of people and you nearly stumble on the steps of the staircase as you're pulled away from the lobby and away from Technoblade.
You stare numbly from the balcony as the wind tousles your hair. You're not sure how long it's been since you watched the last of the horses and men disappear over the horizon but it must have been quite a second considering the sun began to dip into the sunset. The maids bring you food and take away the empty plates and used cutlery wordlessly. Nobody bothers you, sensing that you'd like to be alone as your mind races with possibilities, wondering what's going to happen.
You're only pulled out of your wallowing at the sight of a hawk coming towards you. It's elegant and sleek, flying at a time when their kind really shouldn't be out at all. Your answer is soon answered when it alights on the rails of the balcony and you can see that it has a roll of parchment strapped to one of its legs. Your fingers hurriedly untie it, careful not to tear the paper as you unfurl it. The handwriting is delicate, unfamiliar. Legible with a hint of tasteful cursive.
We've just set up camp right outside the borders of the kingdom, resting up before fully going in to defend. On the brighter side of things, their army is considerably weak and poorly coordinated. It will only take one good swing of a blade to befall them.
I must apologize. Before our meeting, I was set on securing our borders with little to no thought of your own, and here lies the consequences of my actions. Truthfully, I would have liked to spend my time by your side rather than be torn away to duty. It will not happen again. I am not a man to get attached so easily, but you have wounded me and created a scar I shall wear with pride amongst the many others I bear.
Please stay safe,
You're not sure when you get back to your room, hurriedly taking out sheets of paper and warming your inkwell to write. All you could think of was responding to him. Techno was alive, for now. Long enough to write a letter. He cared enough to write to you. It warmed your heart and left you aching in a strange way. You can't help the questions you have been dying to know the answers to, letting them bleed out into the ink.
You humble me with your kind words, sir. I will admit, after the time I've spent with you, my world has proved to be considerably gray from where I sit after your leave. I'd wait a week, a month, a year, a decade, a century even for your return. You made a promise and I'm expecting you to uphold it.
There are many things I still don't understand about you. There's rumors of a curse you bear. Servants discuss you as if they'll die if you hear. They consider my eventual marriage to be destructive of my being and that you'll be the wielder of the blade that'll cause my end. Though you have faced me with nothing but gentleness and a warm hand as if I could shatter. I am eternally grateful for that, provided the many other ways you could have treated me given our circumstances and how I'd acted towards you.
Stay safe,
You send the letter off with Athena, choosing to give Techno's hawk a break and a much-needed sleep for the night.
Regarding the rumors, I'll be sure to explain them upon my return. I feel as though it is something that'll be easier to describe in person when I can see you in front of me with my own two eyes. But curses aside, I can assure you as confident as I was the night of our meeting, death is the last thing I wish upon you. If I am to wield the blade that causes your downfall, then mine shall surely be composed of the grief coupled with my guilty consciousness.
I'm not a man who believes in love at first sight. It's a silly concept built on the foolish aspirations of a theorist. However, your arrival in my life just might have been the twist needed to change my opinions on the matter. Upon my coming back to you, I will bring with me the vibrancy of the world until yours can conceive no more gray.
Stay safe,
For the coming week, the letters are the only thing that keeps you afloat. They don't come daily but are spaced out evenly throughout the numbered days. With every response you get, the more you long for his return. Perhaps distance does make the heart grow fonder.
Your words evoke nothing but an aching in my chest. You say my death is the last thing you wish for, though you might cause it through inked words and the creation of longing emotion alone.
I look forward to the return of my world's color as it'd be nice to get back what you took with you by accident. Though, with the return of color, I also expect the return of you in my arms. You speak hypocritically of love at first sight, though I will gladly inform you that my loathing of you at the beginning of our connection was purely malice lest you forget that. You've grown on me like irritating fungi and filled my heart until you left room for nothing else.
Stay safe,
You'll never forget the contents of his next letter.
You wound me so and it takes everything in me to not mount a horse and return to you. Rest assured, I have not forgotten the bitterness you faced me with upon our first interactions. If anything, it serves as a firm reminder that no matter what I say nor what I do, you are your own person.
I apologize for causing you such bittersweet pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done. I vow that when I return, you'll know nothing of the cold and only of the warmth that comes with my devotion to you.
Your breath hitches when you see his closing salutation and you run a finger over it as if you could soak up the meaning through your skin. Yours? You never considered it. Nothing in the world could make you believe that the eldest prince had become devoted to you within the period of knowing each other. However, nobody knew of your matching aliases and the handwriting is one you've never seen before. You swear, this man just might be the death of you.
You will ruin me.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Three weeks. Three long weeks before he wrote to you that they were on their way back. The contents of the messages between the two of you during that time are secrets you'd take to the grave. Needless to say, you longed for Techno's return.
The night weighs heavily on your shoulders as you make your way to the library. The moon shone through the windows and cast mysterious shadows on the walls. You ignore them and enter the book-filled room. You reminisce of your time there and a melancholy sigh escapes your lips.
You don't expect a cold blade to be held to your neck.
Your screams are muffled by a rough hand and a disgusting voice that reeks of alcohol whispers harshly in your ear that your struggle will only make the death more painful. An arm constricts your movements and you panic, knowing that if you died before seeing Techno again, your ghost might haunt the halls forever in regret.
Before you can question it, his hold slips away and is replaced by his screams of pain and agony. Once you gain your bearings and back up a few pages, you can see an arrow planted into the back of the man's neck, blood gushing from the wound. He looks at you with hate-filled eyes. He doesn't get another word in before the blade of a sword rips through his stomach.
Blood coats the floor as the man falls limp. Your limbs are frozen in horror as you witness the murder, stepping back from the spreading red that seeped into the floor. A boot steps over the now warm corpse and your breath hitches.
Empty eye sockets of a mask meet yours.
Your lips open wordlessly, as Techno steps towards you slowly. He reaches out with a hand that doesn't hold onto the hilt of his sword. Your feet stayed glued to the floor. Warmth cradles your face as he caresses it, thumb sliding along the apple of your cheek.
It smears blood.
"Meet me under the willow tree," he whispers.
He's gone before you can reply, leaving you with a dead man that's rotting into the floor. Your consciousness moves you into motion, dodging blood from getting on your shoes and fleeing from the library. Technoblade killed someone for you. You bite your lip as you pick up your skirts and sprint.
You need answers.
The wind is colder than ever before as you run up the hill towards the landmark. You pant, catching your breath and looking around for him. You call his name. Nobody replies. You collapse to the ground, body shaking. It's cold. It's so fucking cold.
Time passes before the weight of heavy fabric suddenly settles on your shoulders, scaring the crap out of you. You look up to see Techno. Words are already tumbling out of your mouth before you can even process his presence.
"Who are you really?" You demand weakly, "What is this curse? Please….tell me."
"I have voices," he answers simply, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly and you clench your jaws shut, "in my head. They're always talking, always overlapping. They demand blood."
You swallow thickly. "So that man-"
"They take a liking to you," Techno cuts in gently, "They're quieter when you're around. Tamer. But when he put his hands on you, I-" He seems to choose his next words carefully, "I saw red and before I knew it, he was nothing but a victim of my blade."
You stand slowly, clutching the red fur-lined cloak to your shoulders to block out the cold. It's warm. Despite everything that just happened, you can't help but want to be near him. You want to be in his arms, as close as you were all that time ago during the night of the ball. Even though he has voices and even though he killed a man for you, you realize the truth with a pang.
"I believe you have the right to know," he breathes in then out, "that your image in my mind was the only thing I could think of. I don't think you understand how much I yearned to see you again."
Your heart flutters at his words.
"I am not a man to love easily," he fumbles with his cuffs, "And even less of a man to be easily loved. I believe nobody in the world deserves your affections, Laodamia. Me, least of all."
You swallow thickly, pulling the fabric around your shoulders tighter.
"Even if you have been playing me like a lovesick fool, it would have been an honor to have my being broken by the likes of you," he looks at you and even though he towers over you in height, he looks small, "One word from you and my lips will be sealed forever."
Slowly, you absorb his words and hear your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You step closer to him and reach out. He takes your hand in his without hesitation. Contrary to the temperature of the air, he's hot as ever and it's a blessing. A safe place. He pulls you close into an embrace, arms wrapping around you securely and folding you into him like you might dissipate into the air. You tuck your nose into his chest and breathe deeply and his chin rests upon the crown of your head. He smells of pine and ash with a hint of blood.
"Every day I waited for you," you murmur, "How cruel of you to bring the vibrancy of red before any other color back to me."
He laughs weakly, but it's a noise you feel like you'd never get sick of. You want to bottle it and get high off the sound alone. "I'm sorry."
The two of you stand like that for a moment, just listening to the wind whistle in your ears while Techno shielded you away from the world. When he abruptly pulls away, you make a sound of protest. Though when you look up, your heart jumps suddenly when you see he's reaching for the straps of his mask. Your eyes widen as he unclips the buckle and pulls down the bone.
Ruby red eyes cautiously stare at you back, the slash of a scar bridging across his nose. Pink locks frame his face around less prominent marks. He's beautiful, in a word. So beautiful.
"You wanted to know who I am," he says quietly, "I'm not one to deny any request from you. Especially not something so simple as this."
You reach up, hesitating before cradling his cheek as he had done before with you.
"Your hands are cold," he murmurs and pulls you close once more. His thumb brushes the dried blood on your face. You close your eyes and lean into his touch.
You can feel him drawing closer, feel the heat radiating off of him when he leans down, feel the tension as he pauses before gently kissing you. Techno fits perfectly against you, lips moving in tandem with yours. It quells the ache you've been living with for the past three weeks. It soothes the fire each of his letters has ignited in your chest. It makes you feel loved.
It gives you comfort knowing that he is yours and you are his.
When you draw back, his thumb runs along your lower lip and you struggle to remember to breathe. Your exhales are shaky because of the bastard but you don't exactly get mad at him for it. Your heart feels so full. Full of love and full of him. Your eyes lid as you look up at him.
"Please," Techno whispers with desperation melting into his tone, a secret amongst the two of you, "stay. Stay and grant me the honor to marry you."
You reply with the only logical answer. "You haven't told me to leave yet."
You pull Technoblade down to kiss you again, the moonlight spilling through the leaves, falling in between gaps of the willow tree, and lighting up spots on the ground beneath your feet.
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sleepysoupi · 2 days ago
iced coffee isn’t water — sbi x fem!reader
warnings! mentions of mild caffeine addiction, stress, and anxiety.
the scratching of the graphite pencil tip writing against the paper was the only noise which filled the small bedroom. along with the occasional flipping of textbook pages and tearing off a new sticky note from its pad. papers were scattered across the desk and a few which had fallen to the floor. the garbage bin under their workspace was filled to the top with empty plastic cups of iced coffee. some half empty left by the bed side table.
y/n wasn’t exactly paying attention to how long that she kept herself in her bedroom. far too occupied with the firm objective of studying for her finals. the time slipped through her fingertips, the clock on the bottom right of her laptop ticking away as the minutes passed.
though she wasn’t certain on the duration of time she spent rereading and writing new notes, it must’ve been awhile since she took a break. the words from the heavy textbook seemed to float off the pages. the small text written didn’t seem to imprint themselves into her brain like how y/n would’ve liked them too.
“h- how?!” y/n groaned to herself from pure frustration after messing up the practice test. her hands gripped at the roots of her hair, tugging at them to relieve some of the anger that she was experiencing.
just like her brothers, all she ever wanted to do was impress her dad. getting his approval was the biggest achievement. she felt like a failure while staring at the fat 5/10 that was glowing off the screen. y/n swore that she knew and studied the material, yet here she was with a fifty percent on the quiz.
the back of her hands rubbed the exhaustion away from her eyes. her eyelids felt heavier than usual, begging for sleep and some rest. instead, she rubbed her temples before grabbing the large cup of ice coffee. y/n took a long sip of the beverage, feeling the cold sweet bitterness of the liquid trickle down her throat.
her fingertips ran across the top edge of the laptop before slamming it shut. a breath of anger blew out from her lips before she leaned into the back of her chair. she picked up the pen that laid on the notebook, giving the end a click before diving back into relearning the course lessons.
none of the chemical equations seemed to make sense. none of the random coefficients, chemical formulas, subscripts and superscripts added up in her head. she didn’t understand how and why it was like that.
“i hate this,” she huffed, feeling tears starting to brim her eyes. the grip on the pen tightened as she tried to keep the pity tears from falling down. y/n scribbled across the paper in reaction, just to avoid crying over chemistry.
her eyes trailed from the scribbled paper towards the small sticky notes which she placed on her bedroom walls by the desk. on each of the individual stickies was a reason to continue her studying.
make dad proud!
be better than techno
be a good role model for tommy
dad would be proud of you!
be like wilbur
school is the most important thing
they were the same as the thoughts which were slowly tearing herself apart inside. all she ever wanted to be was enough to make dad proud of her. no more disappointed looks. no more “you’ll get it next time!”. no more being a failure. all she wanted to experience is him asking how it went and then giving her a tight hug and saying that they’re going to get dinner in celebration. she’s seen it happen with techno multiple times and a few times with wilbur. she wanted her own turn at it.
her chest rose and fell at a fast pace, y/n falling back into the deep hole of thoughts in her mind. thoughts that twisted and tugged her like a rag doll. thoughts that were debatable on being either motivational or personal degradation.
a light knock on her door ripped her out of her deep thought trance. she wiped away whatever threatening tears from her eyes, spinning in chair to face the door, “come in!”
the door knob twisted open to reveal wilbur and techno standing in the door way. both of her older brothers were extremely tall, their heads just barely hitting the top of the frame. wilbur had a pair of dark basketball shorts and a crew neck on. whilst techno wore a pair of grey sweats and a graphic tee, his long pink hair tied into a messy low bun.
they looked tired, it must’ve been late. techno held a small plate of something, she wasn’t able to get the perfect view of it.
“h- hi,” y/n mumbled, awkwardly stretching her arms and placing the pen back down on her desk.
wilbur looked around the room, it looked like a tornado hit it considering the amount of papers, clothing, and garbage that was around.
“it smells like something died in here,” wilbur sighed. he unfolded the plastic bag from his pocket, shaking it to open it fully. he walked towards the dresser by her bed. he grabbed the multiple cups of empty or half full of iced coffee and tossed it into the garbage bag.
techno balanced the plate of his forearm while he moved a few things on her desk. he made a small space to place the plate of mixed fruit, a sandwich and a few biscuits. he looked down at his sister, frowning slightly at her obviously sleep deprived self. he placed a gentle hand on the top of her head, brushing away the loose strand of hair that fell from her ponytail, “you should take a break, n/n.” he told her.
her eyes widened before she quickly shook her head, “i can’t do that! i have an exam in…” y/n paused to look at the date on her phone screen, it was 11:46 pm, “in two days, t! i cant sleep, i need to memorize al- all of this!” she exclaimed. her hands showing off the many handouts and printed lessons.
“hi!” tommy giggled, he peered from the side of the bedroom door. he had dad standing behind him. tommy waddled into the room, his hands holding tightly onto a water bottle. he made his way to y/n, handing her the water.
phil lifted tommy from the ground and hoisted him onto his hip, “when was the last time you slept?” he asked his daughter.
she gave him a blank expression. he sighed, “thats it, kiddo.” he handed tommy to techno. techno held onto his baby brother, while tommy’s hands went straight to playing with his pink hair.
phil picked up a handful of the papers, stacking them nicely onto the desk. putting the extra pens into its holder. overall just quickly cleaning her desk space. he pulled out a hoodie from her closet along with a pair of sweats, “you’re heading to bed now, after you eat and drink water. you need to stay hydrated and you need your rest.”
“but why? dad, you do realize i have a test, lik- like an exam, right?” she said, putting a heavy emphasis on the word exam. he shrugged,
“but you, your well-being, mental health, and physical health comes first.” dad explained, “eating, taking breaks, staying hydrated, and getting rest is just as and if not more important than studying itself.”
“hes right, you know,” wilbur chimed in after disposing of all the iced coffee cups, “and for your information, y/n, iced coffee isn’t water.”
she rolled her eyes at him, “we- well water is used to make coffee so like, technically there is water in coffee.”
“technically yes, but then you have to consider the milk and creamer they add, and the sugars, and syrups…” techno added on, taking wilbur and dad’s side on this argument.
y/n let out a breath of defeat, well knowing that she wasn’t going to win. she looked at the plate of food and the water.
phil placed his hand on her shoulder, “you’re gonna feel so much better after.”
she slowly nodded before grabbing the sandwich to take a bite out of it. y/n didn’t exactly realize how hungry she was until she took the first bite. the food was satisfying and delicious. her body was thanking her for finally supplying herself with actual food and fuel compared to caffeine.
“tommy, you can’t have that,” techno scolded his brother who was reaching for the berries on the plate, “it’s her food, not yours.”
wilbur laughed at the blonde, he pouted at his older brothers. his big blue eyes were glossy and his bottom lip trembled.
“oh, tommy,” wilbur cooed, “don’t cry, also why are you up? it’s actually your bed time, let’s go.” he motioned to techno to follow him out the bedroom. the three brothers left her room, to mainly give y/n and dad space but also to put tommy to bed.
she smiled to herself after finishing the plate. she cracked open the water bottle to wash down the food. the cold water trickling down the back of her throat, ridding off all the sugar from the iced coffee along with the food.
“better, huh?” dad chuckled. he sat on the foot of her bed while she ate, just to make sure that she would actually eat.
she nodded, “thank you, dad.”
“it’s my job as your dad to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. now, it’s time for you to get some actual rest, okay?”
y/n gave him a thumbs up. he placed a kiss on the top of her hair, “i’m proud of you, n/n, i always am. get some sleep, you deserve it.” he soon left her room to give her back her privacy.
happiness erupted like fireworks in her gut as she changed into the comfortable new clothes. she crawled into her bed, the pillows nice and cold to her head. blankets fluffed and welcoming. within seconds her eyes fell heavy and she quickly slipped into the desired slumber that her body was begging for.
techno and wilbur peeped into her room after putting tommy to sleep. the light on her desk was still on, but she was hidden and snuggled into the pile of blankets, pillows, and plushies on her bed. wilbur gave techno a high five,
“we seriously are the best brothers ever,” wilbur whispered to techno as he lifted the dirty dishes from her desk.
techno chuckled, turning off her desk light, “it was my idea though, so i’m just better than you.”
“oh shut up,” wilbur scoffed playfully as the two walked out of her room. techno carefully closed to door behind himself,
“you know it’s true.”
“well, do you know that you are just full of yourself twenty-four seven.”
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beelzebubaz · a day ago
— techno wants to get married, you dont.
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a/n — aaaaaaaaaaaaa this went in a completely opposite direction to what i originally had planned ft —c!technoblade x reader wc — 0.5k tw — talk of marriage, reader's insecurities, swearing genre — fluffy fluff, angst if u close ur eyes while readin, happy ending
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“well, why not?” he asks, you sigh.
“it’s not my thing, tech. i've told you.”
“so you have, with the same ridiculous reasons you always use.” he grumbles, voice laced with sleep and annoyance. you turn your head to look at him, eyes narrowing at the childlike tantrum your beloved boyfriend is currently throwing right before bed. it reminds you of that time you'd stupidly gone into the nether without your gold armour - a death wish, basically. the piglins angry squeals still ring in your ears when you think about it, and you wonder if his halfbreed nature makes him similar in that way.
"techno," you mumble, shuffling closer. he ignores you, but you don't miss the way his eyebrows furrow. "my ares," you whisper, and you know you're close to the finish line when his ears twitch and his nose crinkles up. "you know i love you, more than anything and anyone." he makes a noise in agreement, but makes no move to say anything further, "what i'm trying to say, is that i don't need a document to show my love to you - our love." you tell him, although decide to leave out the part about your crippling fear of commitment. i mean, it is still half of the truth.
"i know," he groans, finally rolling over to face you, "it's not about the document, i just…" he trails off, red eyes flitting across the room as he avoids your gaze.
"what?" he opens his mouth to speak, and you beat him to it quickly. "-and no, it's definitely not 'nothing' nor 'stupid'." he chuckles, a deep and airy sort of laugh that makes you involuntarily blush.
"alright," he caves. "i don't know, i don't care about some legal document either- well, i don't care about many legal things…" he laughs to himself lightly at his own comment. "-but, wouldn't it be… nice? i-i don't know, i just think the idea of showing our love to each other like that would be nice, uh - cute, fuckin' adorable- i don't know! whatever you wanna say about it…" he begins mumbling towards the end, and you take it as your cue to finally speak.
"that would be fuckin' adorable." you agree, feeling a sense of pride when he smiles softly. it's a warm feeling that blossoms in your chest and keeps running through your veins as you look at him. truth be told, you were still terrified - but of what exactly? being with techno felt good. secure. enough to rid you of your insecurities, or your inexplicable hate of legal documents.
"okay," it takes you a second to continue, cheeks ablaze despite the aloof look you try to keep on, "at least propose to me first."
you roll over, facing away from him in embarrassment. "you heard me - you're always going on about marrying me but you've never even tried to propose," you scoff, trying not to let him see the way your fingers tremble slightly. he doesn't answer for a moment, and you almost give in to turn around. almost.
"so… any random thoughts on emerald rings?"
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reblog for a kiss goodnight
© beelzebubaz 2021 - do not repost, translate, modify or plagiarize my work
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wrenqueenisboss · a day ago
DSMP x gn!reader (running into toxic ex)
Warnings: cursing, mentions of manipulation, taxi people/relationships Characters: Dream, George, Sapnap, Bench Trio Summary: how the some of the dsmp people react to your toxic ex trying to enter your life again
you guys are walking around
but you see your asshole of an ex walking and you nudge your boyfriend to get his attention
(he knows all about your ex)
you ex notices you and walks toward you
dream squeezes your hand in support
internally, he wants to cuss your ex out and beat them to a pulp (pls lmao-)
but he doesn't unless they become even more disgusting
if they start saying hurtful things or they start getting touchy he'll be like
"get the fuck away from them. you lost your chance"
that shuts your ex up real quickly
when you get home he'll give you a blanket and cuddle you
you guys watch your favorite movie and laugh together all through the night
he actually sees your ex before you do and tries to steer you guys away
but your ex has already seen you and low-key runs over
(literally get the fuck away you piece of shit-)
he holds you close as your ex begins to speak
he gives you as long as you need to speak with them
definitely doesn't like it tho. but the second you lean into him a little more, the second he realizes ur uncomfy....
this many becomes so fucking passive aggressive it's insane
the barely-veiled malice behind his words is insane
when you get home, tho... he totally gets warm cookies for you both
you were eating ice cream at a nearby parlor when your ex and some of their friends walk in
he immediately starts seething
you have to squeeze his knee/hand (depends on if you guys are sitting or standing) to calm him down
he knows what they did to you and literally hates them for it
this man loves and respects you but he simply doesn't have the patience to let you even try to handle the situation on your own
mf just starts cussing your ex out
its part of his plan because he gets your ex riled up too
he stands there proudly after you start yelling at them too
most definitely plays some sort of video game with you to take your mind off of it
Bench Trio:
they’ve heard what happened
they know that your ex was toxic in your relationship and has become even more toxic now that you’ve broken up
they want to protect you but will still support whatever you decide
(they all definitely hate your ex, tho. Like actually-)
You guys are at an arcade having fun when the sound of your ex laughing makes you freeze
they notice what’s going on and immediately move to your side when your ex starts walking over
honestly, I don’t even know why your ex bothers because ranboo is 6’6“ and Tommy is 6’2” and Tubbo can be an evil gremlin
Ranboo looks scary, Tommy sounds scary, and Tubbo is scary
they deal with your ex and get you home so you’ll feel better
they feel bad that your day at the arcade was ruined, but you al will go back to make up for it
(warning: abusive ex, blood (mention))
you were still healing, perhaps you always would be because abusive relationships like the one you had been in, scarred you for a while
it had taken a while, but you opened up to Techno about your past relationship and your ex
when you first told him, the voices were screaming at him to get revenge but he didn't
instead he hugged you for as long as you needed and didn't let go until you did
except, when you guys run into your ex again, it's much more difficult for him to restrain himself
the voices are literally fucking screaming at him to get revenge
to make your ex p a y
he, in the worst fake-cheerful voice, takes you back home before going back out to... meet with your ex
he asks you "you're okay with it if I go and meet with {your ex's name}?"
you know what he's actually going to do and ur okay with it
he comes back and washes all the blood off of him and then you guys cuddle :)
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rainxox0 · a day ago
Dream SMP x Violinist!Reader
I'm a violinist, so that was my inspiration for writing this. I've been playing for under a year, if anyone cares.
Characters include: c!Dream, c!Wilbur, c!Quackity, c!Technoblade, c!Eret, c!Slimecicle, c!Schlatt
Everyone will be their SMP characters. A reminder that I never write for real people.
The man was a little taken aback tbh
He didn't expect you to play so well
Honestly he thought you'd be a total dud
He had seen the "musical talent" of a certain few SMP members, and didn't view it as anything special
You on the other hand?
A whole different story
You'd play for him a lot when he was homeless
He'd never admit it, but it was soothing
He thought you had actual talent
That violin music that he learned to love so much would be the only thing he wanted when he was imprisoned
You came to visit one day
You knew Dream deserved to be in there, but you wanted to comfort him... just a little
Man looked more beat up than a punching bag
You were beginning to think he was a punching back for someone
You played for him, and he felt just the littlest bit better
When he escaped the prison, your music was the first thing he wanted to hear
You played him a single song before you vanished, not wanting to get involved with whatever he was planning
You and Wilbur played a lot together pre-L'Manberg
You didn't think you were any good, and you thought about quitting
It was Wilbur who encouraged you to keep playing
You improved significantly with his help
After his exile, you sought him out
Like with Dream, your music became a source of comfort for him
Except with him, he became a little too obsessed
Add together the fact he was losing his mind
You saw the writing on the wall
Pretty soon, your music did nothing to soothe him
One day, you two had a huge argument, and he ended up breaking your violin
That was the last straw, and you parted ways
Then came the destruction, and Wilbur's death
Without anyone's knowledge, you returned to the site and often played depressing songs
Ghostbur would be there, and he'd be attracted to your music
The two of you would get along well, your heart learning to heal
Then... well...
He would come back
Nothing had changed
He wanted you to play... NEEDED you to play
13 years was too long
This time, you'd be the one to break the violin
You swore to never play for him again
Las Nevadas was hyped the fuck up with your music
Everyone had to hear it, whether they liked it or not
The man made an entire stage just for you
People would come far and wide to see you, Quackity made sure of it
You were a sensation!
The two of you played together often
You weren't just a ploy to make money
Quackity genuinely loved what you did
The classical tone was different than what he was used to, so he helped you add new songs to your collection
He'd even help you write out sheet music
This dude is obsessed with your shit
Your face is plastered e v e r y w h e r e
So you're basically a superstar!
Techno isn't known for showing enthusiasm unless we're talking about bells and potatoes
So it surprised you when he asked you to play one day
You two were just lounging around the cabin, doing nothing
You shrugged, agreeing and taking out your instrument
You actually managed to make him clap
Hot damn have the planets aligned??????
And he said you were pretty good????
Man gets you a golden violin
N o q u e s t i o n s
He'd never admit it, but he loved to hear you play
He'd have you play for Phil when he came over
The main thing your violin did for him was shutting the voices up
Either that, or they went on about how great you were
You're a real piece of art
The King's court is filled with your music
You can play to your heart's content
Be sure that you're shown off whenever Eret gets the chance
They might have a castle, riches, power
But you are the best thing they have in their lives
Never forget it, either
Do you want a diamond encrusted violin? No?
Too bad, you're getting one anyway
Cause Eret can get you one, that's why
You might as well be crowned Queen already
You get whatever music you want because it sounds good to them no matter what
I'd sit back and enjoy it tbh
He. Absolutely. Adores. You!!!!!!!!
You are so talented! And amazing! And awesome! And pretty!
Forget that last part
Slime prefers upbeat tunes than your more somber ones
Can you blame him, really?
In all honesty, he doesn't really care what you play
He thinks it all sounds amazing
He's obsessed!!
This slime will dance for hours
Hours, I tell you
He cannot get enough
If you mess up, that's okay!
He'll always encourage your playing
Will practically beg Quackity to have you play in Las Nevadas casinos
Quackity will agree, seeing Slime as happy as he was
Shockingly, Schlatt is very open about loving your music
It's probably a sneak diss to Quackity, as he gets sick of his antics
Then again, who doesn't Schlatt get tired of?
You, apparently
Cause this guy will have you around a lot
He'll totally deny deny deny that he actually cares for you
It's just the music that he likes
Everyone sure believes that one
Do be sure that he'll laugh if you screw up
He's a jerk, but you love him anyway
Then one day you get captured by Wilbur
He breaks your violin (running theme here lol) cause he knows that'll hurt you more than anything physical
He takes his sweet time destroying it, too
Soooo Schlatt dies
So does your violin
Aaaaaand L'Manberg gets blown up
Whoop di doo
With the broken pieces of your violin, you return to the site
You just... sob
You lost everything
The violin was all you had before Schlatt
If it wasn't for him, you'd still be making money from small tips from your playing
You rip Ghostbur a new one, even if he doesn't understand why
As for Glatt?
You get a new violin
You two sit in silence as you play
Sometimes for hours
It's the only happiness he gets
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wromsfircakez · a day ago
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─ desc. techno reminisces about the past. [OCTOBER SPECIAL]
─ conts. slight angst towards the end
─ chr. technoblade [c!]
─ misc. lowercase intended: gn!y/n
─ a/n. when you want to make the entire series fluff but you decided to be a bitter bitch last minute.
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`` you will be my girl. ``
and so you did become his.
he couldn't believe how his left hand mets your waist, feeling your figure underneath that thick and dark coat. the warmth that breathes on his face, your sweet smile and soft, caring eyes makes his heart melt faster than the mashmellows in hot chocolate.
the wind blew cold and chilly as the trees became bare and its once green leaves turn into oranges and reds. the park that once looks so bright and warm, looks so frigid and voided of life.
yet when he's with you, he feels a sense of comfort. a sense of sweetness glossed over his lips as it met yours, the splash of red on his face made his pale pink skin much more lively.
and it all felt like yesterday.
and here he stands, the golden ring fitted in his finger─ your name ingraved in nether language. the gold glimmers, the light reflecting in techno's crimson eyes as his thumbs brush over the ring.
his gaze turns to where you stand, the chilly wind blowing in your face as strands of your hair fling out if its hiding. the sound of your laughter tickle in his ears, your joyous grin giving him a sense of nostalgia yet he feels as if it's first time seeing you so bright.
he sighed, tucking his right hand in his coat's pockets and walks over to you. his body tensed for a moment as you bump into his chest, yet his worry fades as soon as he saw your face looking up to him.
"hm? is there something you need?" you asked, your cheeks cupped within his large, rough hands─ his thumb rubbing them gently.
techno bent down, planting a small yet sweet kiss on your forehead. "happy 10th anniversary, my dearest."
he fell in love with you that day, he proposed to you in thst the same date. you were his love, his light, his peresphone.
it's too bad you don't remember him or your marriage.
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angeluxi · 2 days ago
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❥ ꒰ °mr. loverman 🎶 ❜ ༉‧₊˚ that voice wasn't giving him a threat, it was giving him a playful warning
❣ — c!technoblade × gn!reader ♪ — romantic ‼ — tw: death, angst, short (yuh😻❗)
'They'll leave eventually.' The voice spoke in Techno's head as he stared into the mirror, "No, I'm sure they won't." he spoke, hearing a laugh from the voice. 'Oh that's what they'll say too!' "Wh-What does that mean?" Techno asked, no reply.
Technoblade jolted awake, sitting up and looking around, feeling beside him and seeing that you're not there. Panicking, Techno got up and ran out of your shared bedroom, searching for you in the house. Finally reaching the kitchen, Techno internally sighed as he saw you by the counter. Walking over quietly, Techno hugged you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed softly at this, turning around to face him and leaving a soft peck on the tip of his nose. "What's wrong love?" you asked, getting up on the counter. You opened your arms wide and grinned, inviting him into a hug, (to which he happily accepted.) He stepped closer and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as his forehead rested atop yours. You two stayed in a comfortable silence, staring into each other's eyes. You were ready to just close your eyes and fall asleep like this, but Techno was making slight noises, noises that meant he was upset. "Darling?" you looked up at him, earning a hum. "Are you upset? Is anything wrong?" you asked, playing with his hair. Techno's eyes widened for a split second before softening, 'Curse you piglin side of me.' he thought jokingly. "Techno?" your voice brought him out of his headspace, causing him to look at you. "Huh- oh oh! Er it's nothing.. but.." he paused, looking down with a hesitant look. "But?" you asked, taking his hand in yours.
"Don't leave me ok? I don't know what I'd do if you did.." he finished softly, his voice barely over a whisper as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his luscious hair and petting his head, earning lovable purrs. "You know I'd never even think about it.."
He knows that you didn't lie, but still. "Why?"
He stared at your name carved into the gravestone, falling to the ground. "Why did you have to leave? You said you wouldn't.." he muttered, voice shaky as he could feel his knees shake. He gave in, heading straight for the floor, tears prickling the corner of his eyes.
'Don't say I didn't warn you.'
short but ey, didnt want long effort to be wasted bc the last one completely flopped</3 hope this does better:) — angel!
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blexmar · a day ago
c!technoblade x gender neutral reader
request :: no </3
warnings :: angst, mentions of :: destruction and smoke :)
authors note :: this was debated in my mind against an sbi fic so uh- well shoot
you and technoblade worked side by side for years. by all means, technoblade probably could’ve managed himself. on the other hand, though, defense wasn’t exactly his strong suit.
that is where your guy’s friendship and soon-to-be relationship started.
you protected him.
something that he thought no one would ever want to do for him besides philza is something you did for a complete stranger.
that is what amazed him.
“won’t resent,—“
you never managed to hate him for the things he did, whether the voices told him to or not. you never got angry with him when tubbo lost one of his lives to him.
after all, you could understand the concept of why peer pressure could be stressful.
“blood for the blood god”, the voices had chanted.
one of the worst times for them to do so, as well. technoblade probably could’ve managed against schlatt, quackity and fundy. but the voices.
the voices weren’t a concept you could understand, but you understood why it hurt him. peer pressure is something that no soul should go through.
“—won’t despair.”
technoblade was a behind the scenes figure for you back in the first disc war. of course, he never participated in the war. but you had the misfortune of doing so.
you were also a good friend of wilbur’s, and that relationship was gained through your relationship with techno.
so once you told technoblade the situation, he allowed you to go. he would never admit it, but he didn’t want wilbur to die either. you didn’t hear that from blex, though.
“till we meet again, my dear.”
“i’ll see you soon, techno. stay safe while i’m away?”
“of course, my love.”
and throughout all of the destruction, you kept a straight face out on the battlefield. you never showed a member of l’manberg or the dream team that you were scared or that you wished you weren’t in this spot.
you just wanted everyone to be okay, so you never allowed yourself to slip into despair. everyone was counting on you. at least, that’s what you convinced yourself.
president wilbur soot was amazed by your resilience, and once the war ended, he offered you a spot in his cabinet.
you declined, and he understood. he didn’t give you a fight, he just gave you a friendly kiss on the hand and sent you on your way.
once you arrived home, you gave technoblade a silent hug. he hugged back, it said everything he wanted you to know and you to him.
it recited words that were left unspoken.
“old and bent,—“
unfortunately, quite soon after you met up with techno, wilbur faced a new problem. fortunately for you two, he asked for both of you to go there.
he knew that you two were an amazing duo, both emotionally and in combat. there was no better team that he could ask for.
so you and techno made your way there.
“my love, are you sure you want to do this so soon?”
“it’s alright, y/n. on the bright side, we’re together, no?”
“haha, i suppose you’re right.”
you both prepared yourselves to get there. you prepared yourselves for the possibility of being attacked on the way there, given technoblade’s reputation.
luckily for you two, you didn’t get attacked, and you arrived without any injuries or interruptions.
all you saw was techno’s reassuring smile as you both walked in.
a smile that not many saw in their entire lifetime.
“—i won’t care.”
you never truly cared about how everyone thought of technoblade. you agreed with most of his morals, and you wanted to be with him until the sky fell on you.
you were willing to let the world pass by, for forever.
as long as it was with him.
you spent every day and every night with the man. you grew to love the person he was more so than you did before.
he was such an amazing person, it was a shame not many could see that because of his faults.
you didn’t entirely care about what would happen, as long as you were with him.
“i’ll have spent one day—“
one foot after the other, you all arrived to what may be your guy’s final day in manberg. this was a good thing, of course. you all wanted l’manberg back, but in a way this all seemed stressful.
everyone just wanted to be home. a home where all could be accepted as long as they were peaceful. a home where everything will be managed with the help of everyone else. a home of freedom, the one thing you, wilbur, tommy, tubbo, eret and fundy all fought for not long ago.
as you all arrived at the van after fighting with manberg for so long, you saw a sad, pathetic man. in a way, you felt guilty for making a man lose a country he worked with. on the other hand, maybe you didn’t have to kill him?
unfortunately, he died to his own hand in front of all of you. technoblade covered yours and tommy’s eyes from the scene. he didn’t want his little brother or his love to see such a thing. it was engraved into both of your memory’s, but it didn’t hurt as much as what was to come.
“—out there.”
the scene in front of you was horrifying.
there was smoke everywhere and it engulfed your lungs every time you dared to breathe.
it felt like the city was going to give you asthma.
your best friend was died, and he died to the hands of his father.
his father, someone who should’ve protected him until the day he died. i suppose he did just that, but he just killed his son. did he feel no regret? was there no regretful feelings to killing his son?
technoblade wasn’t helping the situation whatsoever. in fact, he was a primary hand in destroying it.
you watched as your love destroyed the city and nation you worked so hard to protect just an hour ago.
this felt like a fate worse than death.
but you couldn’t even hate him for it as you watched him walk away.
and you chased after him, and you didn’t know the reason except that you loved him.
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yourfavinxp · 3 days ago
Your Paintings of me
The new king was getting crowend. And his kingdom will get a week of celebrating the new crowend king technoblade. To the king, he didn't care for the celebration, he indeed thought it wasn't necessary, not out of humbleness, but to get to the work instantly.
One of the main traditions was getting a painting for the new king with his lovely crown, this was one of not so many traditions that technoblade couldn't cancel, so in a result, he invited the usual old painter to picture his all-mighty majesty.
The painter declined getting a waggon, since he wasn't living away from the castle, he used to work in the presence of the old king, technoblade's father, his work was the best in many eyes, including technoblade's himself and his father's.
From the horizon, a little woman with some bags was walking in the distance, a gaurd stopped her and asked firmly "reveal your intentions, madam" the girl got nervous but nonetheless, answered "I'm the painter whom the king asked for" "I suppose the painter was a male?" The guard said "well he couldn't make it to here because of his sickness" "guard three, open the doors!" The guard yell "You better not be lying, maiden" he glared at you as you walked your way "who's this? The painter was supposed to be here, not a fragile lady! Who let her in?" The head butler said "I'm the painter, sir, We got your invitation for my father but he couldn't make it due to his sickness" "well, can you draw?"the head-butler asked, looking at you up and down"I guess that's why I'm here" "never mind, the king is waiting for you, why did it take you so long? You should've been here 5 minutes ago, his majesty doesn't like late people, you might get fired because of this, young lady" as the butler was bragging while leading you to the room you supposed to draw in, he knocked on the door and waited for a confirmation to come in, as so expected the conformation came and you were allowed to come in. A king with light strawberry colour hair that went to his shoulder blades, resting on the top of his head a shining crown, reflecting threads of sun light, his face was pale and his expressions were dull, as if he saw all the things this world hides, his suit was navy blue with light shade of grey, popping out his pink hair, was resting on a throne in the middle of the room,it had navy blue wallpaper with some veins patterns, the sun shining through the windows with opened curtains to get the most light out of this lovely morning, his expressions went from dull to surprise and curiosity because of, well, you, "your majesty, this is the painter who shall draw you" "your majesty" you did a crusty and continued "I'm y/n minecraft, daughter of philza minecraft, I'm sure my father was the main painter here, as he worked for many of this kingdom's kings, My apologies for his absence in this moment due to his sickness, but I'm one of the best to do this job as he taught me my way to a brush, and taught me many of his techniques on the canvas, I'm pretty sure I'll do the best job of mimicking his way of drawing, if that what please his majesty" you ended and he raised a brow " I guess you'll do the job, and please try your best without mimicking his way, that would be useless since only one drawer can make his own type of drawing, is that alright, y/n? "Yes your majesty, I'll try my best" you spoke, your sight never meeting his but to the ground, the butler excused himself and walked out of the room, you started to make your set, your father gave you this bag that can turn into a seat, and a canvas holder, the other bag got all of your brushes and colors and a notebook to sketch as well as some pencils, "if you're comfortable, your majesty, I need to make colours for the painting so I need to get a close look on you, can I if that alright?" "Y-yes, it's alright" you walked closer to the king, holding a pellet with hundreds of dry colours that once was used to paint a beautiful paintings, you started to mix red and white to get the exact shade of his hair color, you got closer to his hair "may I?" he nodded and you lift some of his hair gently, it was unexpectedly soft you hold it close to the knife where the mix of red and wight rested, it was the same color, smiling a bit you moved to check the suit colour, it's matching too, then rose up to meet his gaze for the first time, you tried to look away but you couldn't, his red eyes were piercing through your e/c ones down to your soul, you brushed it off and held the paint knife to under his cheek "you know you have to add some blue to the whole paint since the blue of the room is reflecting on me, right?" He asked "his majesty knows too much about colouring, is that what I'm catching?" You joked,going to the wall next to you to get its color too "you learn about it so much when your father's friend is a painter"
This was the first part! I couldn't write anylonger :,)
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ashturnedtomist · 2 days ago
Leverage Masterlist!
Platonic!SBI x reader
C!Dream x Reader
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Like all the dsmp members are in there for one reason or another-
The stories that could be produced
Who would be in there for which crimes?
Other SMPs = Orher prisons!
Send me your theories on this!
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serend1p1ty-0 · a day ago
lest precious love slip away like time's sand
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[Immortal!c!Technoblade x Immortal!Reader]
Warnings: SFW, Dsmp universe, Long Fic (16.3k), Fluff, Pining, Immortals
Title: The Edge of Dawn from Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Word Count: 16.3k
Author's Notes: [REUPLOAD FROM OLD BLOG!!!]
This took so long to write so I genuinely hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you so so so much to my beta readers @simpoot, @inniterhq, and @earthtooz. You guys singlehandedly saved me from descending into actual insanity.
Without further ado, here we go!
All of this is written in and is meant to be taken as the Dream SMP characters. There is no reference or inclusion of the streamers/Youtubers.
Summary: You were the unsung hero of legend that tore down a long-standing monarchy from the inside out. Technoblade knew you well, having been the closest thing you could call a friend.
But the war finished and he left without a warning with only the anarchist ideals that you rubbed off on him as his only reminder you ever existed. The voices begged him to turn back before it was too late, but he resisted and left you to eventually shrivel into the dust, another victim of time's cruel fate.
Or at least that's what was supposed to happen.
So why were you alive? And more importantly, why were you here in the Dream SMP?
✧ ˚  ·    .
Every legend has a beginning.
Yours happened to start with a brewing revolution, taking the helm and beginning to strategize against the monarchy that ruled the land with an iron fist. The people trusted your guidance, every move designed to chip away at the defenses from the inside out until the government crumbled to its knees. Oh, but they tried desperately to hold on, sparking an all-out war between the citizens and their majesties.
The odds might have been against you had it not been for your companion that joined a little earlier than the halfway mark.
Technoblade was your partner in crime, so to speak. Your confidant and perhaps the closest thing to what you would call a friend in that period of time. He covers your back on the battlefield, a monster of death and destruction himself who has taken the majority of lives and ensured your success in the fights you endured. And after it all, he'd help wrap your wounds and tell you stories to distract you from the stinging pain of healing potions. Nights of pouring over maps and talking tactics and taking notes about routines slowly turn into something more intimate when he helps you with the straps on your armor or lets you lean against him while you read in the rare time you can forget the war.
To nobody's surprise, you fall in love with him.
It's dangerous when you linger too long by his side, committing his touch to your memory that might last. You make a vow to confront him on the matter when the war is said and done.
But on the dawn of the day after your victory, you find that he is nowhere to be found, not even leaving a note to bid you farewell.
Because even though every legend has a beginning, it also must have an end.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Techno cannot remember the last time he's been a part of a war.
Of course, before Pogtopia and L'Manberg, the piglin hybrid has trouble reaching back into his past and pulling out the dusty memories that have been abandoned on the shelf. Wars were always good back then, quenching the voices that would chant insistently for blood and fulfilling his purpose as a vessel. It must have been centuries, eons maybe since he was a part of an army with matching armor sets and wavering flags that meant something to its people.
He frowns.
It must have been the fall of the great monarchy. The one with the legend they call the Grieving Leader. While many historians have speculated about your life and what accomplishments you had made during your time on the Overworld, Techno probably knew you better than anybody out there. He remembers you, knows the idea of you, can still recall the timbre of your voice when you'd berate him for being too reckless. But despite the ghost of you that has suddenly made itself apparent in the room with him, he can't remember what you looked like for the life of him.
Years of pushing your presence in his life down have caused him to forget. Something resembling guilt gathers in Techno's chest as he grabs a notebook and a pencil before settling himself at his desk in the creaky-ass chair he carved himself. He could remember the shape of your head, the length of your hair, but nothing about your facial features. Did you have brown or blonde hair? Was it colored something else? What was the shape of your eyes? How did your smile curl? He stares at the page with the unfinished sketch, the space where your face was supposed to be drawn in becoming a mess of pencil smudges that stain the paper and become irreversible.
He doesn't notice the door click open much less the person who pushes their way in, catching sight of Techno's frustrated expression with dark fuschia eyebrows pulling together and lips pressed into a thin line. It's not until he sees the movement of something black in the corner of his eye that he looks up at the newcomer.
"Who's that?" Philza asks, peering down at the drawing with concern, "And why haven't they got a face?"
"It's an old friend," the piglin hybrid mumbles, running the palm of his hand down the side of his face in exasperation. He huffs out a heavy sigh, pig ear twitching with irritation at his lack of work.
"Older than me?" The winged man asks, attempting to lighten the mood.
"In terms of lifespan, no," Techno says bluntly, "They've been dead for a while."
"Oh. Sorry, mate."
"It's fine."
There's a tense silence as Techno chews the inside of his cheek, rolling flesh between his teeth as he tries to regain a crumb of your appearance.
"What were they like?" Phil asks as he strolls toward the kitchen and begins the process of boiling water for tea. Had you ever made him tea? Coffee maybe? Which one did you prefer?
"Do you know the story of the Grieving Leader?"
There's a loud clunk as something harmlessly crashes into the sink basin.
"You knew them?"
"I was a part of that war, Phil."
"You've never told me."
Techno closes the cover of the book. He can't stand staring at the blurred face anymore, devoid of the smile that you grew naturally when you saw him. Even after all these years, your memory summons a bittersweet pain to the forefront of his mind. One he tried so desperately to prevent by burying you in the graveyard of his past just as he'd done with everyone else.
"I did it for our own good," he says, sadness tinting his tone in a way that he knows his best friend would catch, "I couldn't bear to watch them grow old, move on and shrivel away. Not when I held them so closely."
"Would it have been different if they also had our condition?"
He hears the sound of teabags being dropped into water.
The condition that goes unspoken is their uncanny immortality that proves to be more of a curse than a blessing. Men search for ungodly amounts of time for the secret to infinite life while Techno and Phil have already both agreed that they'd give it up if they could.
"The stories say they were a fearsome warrior," the crow hybrid hums, "They were a force to be reckoned with and tore down the walls of a castle brick by brick until the government fell."
"They did do that," Techno says wistfully, "They passed out those bricks to every person in the army as a token of their victory."
A vague image emerges in his mind's eye, a crowd of people surrounding one lone figure amidst the ash and dust of a ruined structure. But every one of their faces had the biggest grin on it in celebration of the end of the war.
"Do you know why they're called the Grieving Leader?" Phil re-emerges with two steaming cups and gently sets one down on the desk in front of Techno, "There's a ton of versions for this part."
"Unfortunately, I left before then, but from what I hear, it was for a lover or a child most likely," he says, pursing his lips as he lifts the cup to his lips. His heart stings thinking of you with somebody else.
"A shame. They're one of history's biggest enigmas."
"That's what they would've wanted."
You once said you wanted to be a famous mystery, though Techno refuted you by saying that everybody knowing your name wasn't exactly stealthy. You'd told him to just wait, plaiting his thick hair down his back in a neat braid and tying it down with the band he always used, scoffing when he joked that he'd tell all your secrets to the world. He read you to sleep that night, watching as your expression eventually smoothed out as you drifted to unconsciousness.
But you're gone now, long lost to time and its cruel partnership with death. You'd lived and you loved and you died just as any other mortal had and would. You had a life outside of him and it makes him ache, drenched in nostalgia and anger that he had to leave. The voices have never been so loud, begging for something other than blood as he traveled to the outskirts of the land, casting one last look in the direction where you slumbered cluelessly before leaving for good. They were outraged and made him pay for it with years of slaughter and death staining the pale palms of his hands.
But as his tea goes cold and Phil borrows something for a project before taking his leave, Techno can't seem to stop thinking about you, a blank and blurred face in place of a smile.
✧ ˚  ·    .
The emerald duo knows when something urgent's happening.
Their main clue was when the sound of crows grow by the minute, exploding in a cacophony of noise that Techno can't understand but imagines sounds akin to the voices that are erratically questioning what was going on. The cawing overlaps as feathers scatter to the snow beneath their feet and black bodies turn the sky dark. The noise grows by the second, rising up like a tidal wave loud enough to make anybody’s head spin as the sea of darkness gives off the impression of a storm.
Phil's authoritative command cuts through the sea of chaos, the crows bending to his call as they immediately scatter to find places to perch. If Techno wasn't already used to it, he might have been disturbed by the thousands of beady black eyes watching his every move.
"Now," Phil reaches out to one of the birds that immediately hops onto his arm, wobbling as it balances itself, "Tell me what's happening."
Techno wishes he could order his voices around as Phil did his crows. Perhaps it would give him a sense of control, a break from the constant bloodlust. He's pulled from his thoughts when Phil's expression shifts from concerned to shock to thoughtful.
“What’s going on?” Techno echoes the screaming in his head.
“There’s...someone new in the SMP?”
The answer is definitely not what he was expecting. New people don’t settle in the area, immediately warded off by mysterious blood vines and the gaping wound in the earth as a result of Wilbur’s choices and Doomsday. If unfamiliar faces came around, they did not stay long.
“Where?” Techno asks, beginning to wade through the sea of crows to get to his house with Phil not far behind as he listens to the bird still perched on him.
“Not exactly in the Greater. They’re really far out, enough that they’re not near the main chaos, but well within the boundaries to be considered a part of the server as a whole.” There’s fluttering as the crow launches from Phil and takes flight to a spruce tree not far off, “What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m not sure,” Techno mumbles beneath his breath as he pushes into the cabin, “But I think it’s a good idea to give them a fair warning. If word of their presence gets out, they’re gonna be caught in the middle of a war battling for their loyalty.”
“Fair point,” Phil muses, “I’ll send chat out to scout out the safest route since you’re still, y’know, technically wanted.”
“No need to rub salt in the wound.”
“Of course.”
Techno can hear Phil’s smile as he cracks open chests and rummages through their contents. He plucks out stacks of steak, gleaming golden apples, cheap iron tools for spares, potions in case anything goes awry, things that may seem over the top but necessary for the piglin hybrid’s survival.
Phil checks the durability of his netherite, the shining enchantment swirling dangerously in the moody glow of the light, and asks, “So what do we do if they turn hostile?”
Techno knows the hidden question too well. What if you lose control? What if the voices turn your justice blind and you come back to the world with crimson seeping into your clothes and another life making itself known in your head? What if I can’t stop you this time? What if, what if, what if?
“I’ve sworn off of meaningless slaughter,” he reminds the winged man as gently as he could, but still cringes when the bitterness leaks through his tone, “It’ll be fine. You know what we did way back before we found ourselves here. If they don’t want to listen to reason...”
Phil eyes the netherite sword sheathed at Techno’s side and nods solemnly.
“Then we make them listen,” he finishes.
The crows don’t take long to gather information. They were Philza’s eyes and ears after all and soon, there’s a fully marked map outlining the route to take. At the end of the line, there’s a simple red dot for the stranger’s home.
“Take care, Steve,” Techno murmurs to his polar bear, fingers running through the mammal’s thick fur as a farewell. Steve merely grumbles affectionately, nudging his palm and closing his eyes to return to sleep.
Phil comes by, holding out a long strip of heavy-cut fabric and a bag of supplies at the ready. Techno stands up and takes his cape to sling it over his broad shoulders, settling into the familiar weight as he checks through his bag one more time. There’s tension, something akin to when he’d been forced to prepare last minute for the Butcher Army’s arrival but less dire conditions. As they say, stranger danger. You never know who you’re going to get when it comes to new faces. You never know what skills they may possess or what they’re after.
Techno wants to find out what this person’s desire is.
He plucks his mask from the rack and holds it in his hands for a brief moment, The face-covering is fashioned after a pig, fitting perfectly over the upper half of his face like a second skin as he buckles it into place. He grabs his crown next, setting it at home atop his head, and breathing in deeply before exhaling out of his mouth as mental preparation. The door clicks shut and the two start out on their journey.
They begin by entering through their Nether portal, the temperature shifting from the harsh freezing levels to ascending boiling hot that may as well have been classified as hell itself. Techno takes it in stride, snorting offhandedly to Piglins who call out to him at the sight of his golden headpiece. Lava bubbles beneath the winding bridges that multiple members of the server have contributed to overtime providing homes to striders that curl contently into the dangerous liquid.
“Do you think they’re here for somebody?”
Phil’s question catches him off-guard. “Hm?”
“Like, the stranger. Do you think they’re after someone?”
Techno hums and sidesteps a shallow point in the netherrack. “Maybe. We haven’t had anybody come to hunt someone down yet.”
“Mmm, let’s hope he keep it that way, yeah?”
“Fingers crossed, Phil.”
It’s a three-hour journey just in the Nether alone and another two in the Overworld. It’s not too much of a pain for the stamina Techno’s built for himself all these years. After all, he had to keep running to avoid being caught by the millions who’d love to have his head on a silver plate.
Nevertheless, in the time spent in the Nether, he’d come up with a fair amount of scenarios in case the circumstances turned for the worse. Maybe their stance with the bow was a few degrees off or their melee techniques left them open for a split second too long that could cost them his life. The voices in his head agree with each plan, giddily discussing which ways could spill the most blood. Hours later, the two come to a dip in the netherrack where two hills slope into each other.
Phil squints at his map, searching for a landmark in the terrain around them before nodding in satisfaction. “This is it,” he declares.
Techno sets down his bag and nudges aside a few items before producing a sizable amount of obsidian. Its surface glints with the illumination from the fires that burn lazily around them as he sets them up in the shape of a portal and Phil idly tests his flint and steel that sparks sharply when he strikes the iron against flint. Techno disguises the structure’s frame over with more netherrack and nods at Phil. With one flick of the wrist, violet swirls jumping to life inside the border.
They pass invisibility potions between them, the opalescent concoction sloshing in bottles as they drink it down and watch patiently as their bodies vanish from sight. There's something about being invisible that's both mystifying and terrifying at the same time. Techno's had his fair share of usage for the potion, especially helpful when he was breaking Phil free from L'Manberg and to stealthily avoid another face-off with a 3v1.
The Overworld is warm, but not like the Nether. It's pleasant, a small breeze providing cool air to accompany the sun's rays that reach down to kiss whatever ground it can. Techno squints, glancing down at himself to see the wisps of the potion giving away his cover. They'd have to move quickly or else he just might be in some deep shit. Following the sound of Phil's footsteps, the two begin making their way out of the borders of the main server and towards the rural area.
After approximately eight minutes and a sweep of the area to make sure they're in the safe zone later, the invisibility wears off. Their bodies flicker, dispelling the last of the potion before settling into being visible. They continue forward, navigating through the plains and trees.
Time here was spent thinking anxiously of what to say. Techno's never been good at words unless they were said in the heat of the moment, conjuring a grand speech from the depths of his mind while holding wither skulls over soulsand. But passive conversation? Ehhh, that's something he has to work on. It probably wouldn't give off the best impression if Phil did all the talking with a threatening seven-foot tall figure looming over his shoulder.
The air becomes strained by the minute as they grow closer and closer to their destination. The voices are beginning to chant blood. Crows eye them from the tops of the trees. Every footfall feels like it could be someone else's. Techno's ears flick at every sound. Philza clears his throat constantly as if to recalibrate himself. Time was the slowest it’s ever been as Techno counts down the seconds.
A house appears on the horizon.
It's a simple cottage, structured neatly near the edge of the woods that gives them a tactical escape if needed. As they draw closer, Techno knows that if it becomes a manhunt, the outcome is easily predictable. Smoke spouts from the chimney as if to say, "Yes, someone's home." It looks like an easy domestic life and he almost feels sorry that they're disrupting it. Almost.
They approach the door and it feels like the moment of truth. A dramatic reveal. Phil raises his hands and knocks.
There's shuffling.
The sound of tools being put down.
Footsteps creaking wooden floor planks.
The click of a lock.
Squeaking as the door swings open.
A figure appears in his vision.
Technoblade's eyes widen as in what feels like the first time in an eternity, fear spreads through the whole of his body from head to toe.
Your face has never been clearer.
Time freezes as the two of you stare at each other, each unmoving and each trying to gauge what the other will do first. Phil hasn't spoken yet, sensing the tension and backing off quietly.
This couldn't be real. You were dead. You lived centuries ago. You died centuries ago. This must be an ancestor, a cheap trick of the light. A devout believer in the Grieving Leader who fashioned their appearance after you. It wasn't you. It wasn't you. It wasn't you.
But all his excuses shatter the moment you speak.
It all comes rushing back, the smiles and laughter and scolding lilted tones and fingertips dancing across his forehead as they brushed away his bangs. The sharpening of tools and preparing for war and making sure the other was covered in the middle of the chaos and death permeating the air and healing each other's wounds later. The grief and the silence and the anguish that follows his departure like the plague.
All of it and more is right in front of him.
You're right in front of him.
"You're not real," you whisper, backing up slightly, "I'm hallucinating again even after all this time."
Techno wants to say that you're not. He's here. He wants to reach out and pull you close and never let go and tell you what's happened over the time you've missed together. But you're afraid, he can see that now. You're shying away from him and it hurts more than he thought it would.
"You're supposed to be dead," is the first thing that wheezes out of him.
"So are you."
But you're not. The both of you are still undeniably alive and breathing. He hadn't realized how much he missed your voice and wished he could hear it in a better situation. There's a gap where someone was supposed to say anything, but instead, there's just emptiness. It's hollow, cruel, and suffocating and Techno just wishes they would say something.
"I spent so long trying to find you," your voice is scratchy and you swallow thickly, "And all these years I believed you to be taken by death's hands when you still walked the earth without a care."
Your words break him and suddenly, he wants to solidify that you're here even if you hate him. Even if you spit and never want to see him again, he wants to know that you're just...alive. He holds his breath as he shakily reaches out. You don't move.
With the most featherlight touch he can manage, his fingertips run down the sides of your face, grazing from the temple, gliding over the apple of the cheek, and leaving off at the left of your face.
"You're real," he breathes out loud to make the statement a reality.
You quietly choke on a sob and your eyes begin shining with unshed tears.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Things are awkward.
You’re busy shuffling around in the kitchen to prepare tea (you said it’s what you’ve always preferred when Techno abruptly asked out of the blue) while the two men are left in the main area suffering in silence. Phil keeps checking on his companion with worried glances to which Techno keeps waving off.
“So,” you begin slowly, entering the room with a tea tray, “what business do you have with me?”
“Just heard you were in the area is all,” Phil answers, taking a whiff of his cup when you set it down in front of him, “We don’t get newcomers around here often.”
“Any specific reason why?” you set a cup in front of Techno.
“The people in this server are...competitive,” the piglin hybrid answers, identifying the beverage as lavender tea, “If you’re here, you’re gonna have the factions frothing at the mouth for your allegiance.”
“That intense, huh?” you muse, “But I’ve been in the crosshairs of wars before. I think I can manage.”
“Things aren’t like what they were in our war,” Techno refutes and immediately regrets it when your neck nearly snaps when you glare at him. His mistake whirls in his head. Our war, our war, our war.
“I know that,” you say harshly, busying yourself with pouring your own drink, “Nothing was like that period.”
For a split second, he can see you perfectly in the tent you shared. He can see you slumped over the table with eyebrows pinching together as you mark up another possible route. He can see you falling asleep, leaving him to carry you to your cot so you didn’t wreck your spine. He can see you motioning him over to proof check your plans that would be worth his time.
But, here you are now in a humble cottage far away from the action and living a life vastly different than what he remembers from a past life. He looks into your sunken eyes, devoid of the passion that comes with living. It leaves one major question hanging in his mind.
What happened to you?
“Surely the place can’t be that bad,” you say, taking your own seat and looking at the two, “Well I haven’t seen any explosions or screaming yet or I’m too far away to hear it.”
“You’d hear it,” Phil assured, “The last proper war we had certainly rocked the earth to its core. Actually, Techno and I were two of the three drivers of it.”
Your gaze slides to Techno and he keeps his expression remaining indifferent as he stares you back. “Why am I not surprised?” you mumble, turning your eyes down to stare into the dip in your cup “Voices still sticking around?”
“Of course,” he says, “You know better than anyone that they don’t necessarily like the prospect of leaving.”
“They don’t,” you agree gravely.
Up until this point, the voices have been murmuring softly in a state of shock ever since your reveal, but now they’re beginning to grow louder with questions that he almost lets slip from his lips because he’s been asking himself the same things.
He’d told you about them before when you’d asked about his history with combat and what had made him so hardened to the outside world. Technoblade barely made exceptions, but you had softened him somehow through conversing as if he were a fellow human being rather than the beast that the soldiers envisioned him as. You were more concerned rather than horrified when he’d told you about them and asked if there was anything you could do to help. In the end, he spent that night in bliss as the voices cooed over your fingers carding through his hair and massaging his scalp to relieve any remnants of headache.
So they liked you, so to speak.
“What are they saying now?” you ask, a hint of underlying worry in the simple inquiry.
“They missed you.”
You blink like you didn’t believe him. Techno only shrugs indifferently because he’s not going to lie about it, especially not with the bastards watching his every word.
“O...kay,” you back off uncertainly and he cringes when the voices immediately begin arguing over whether it was the right move to make.
Trying to push the eruption of overlapping children to the back of his mind, he takes a sip of his tea and listens idly as Phil asks you some questions and you reply to the best of your abilities. You don’t laugh, not even when the crow hybrid tries cracking a joke or two. Actually, you only smile sadly like you pity him for being a bad comedian.
The hours pass quickly until Phil looks outside and notices the sun creeping towards the horizon.
"We should probably get going," he mentions, standing up and stretching.
"We do still have to feed the animals," Techno nods, draining what was left in his cup and joining his friend's side.
"I see," you murmur, piling their dishes back onto the tray and walking them towards the door, "This was a very nice chat."
Nice wouldn't really be how Techno would explain it since there are many things still left unsaid between the two of you. Sure, it was civilized but he longs to know more. What have you been doing? Why were you here?
The night air is cool on the lower half of his face, the mask blocking it from his eyes. Phil shakes your hand and thanks you for the company to which you politely tell him it was no trouble. Techno begins to follow him down the path they came until a soft call of his name freezes him in his tracks. He looks back to where you linger just outside the threshold of the front door.
"I -" You struggle to gather your thoughts, "Do you want to come back? Soon? I'm sure there are things we need to talk about."
He breathes out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing now that he knows you're on the same page. "Yeah. I think that'll be good."
"Good, good."
You shift awkwardly from foot to foot and he almost blurts out a goodbye until you open your mouth to speak again.
"Um, you don't need to if it's a personal thing, but I...I know what you - what you look like."
Techno's eyes widen and his fingers unconsciously find the edge of the covering that conceals half of his face.
"Yeah, of course." Anything for you.
"Great, uh," he can tell you're just as poor at this whole conversing thing as he was and the fact gives him a little comfort, "Can we do it tomorrow?"
"I'm free tomorrow," he answers even though he doesn't know if he actually is. Screw it, he'd push it all back if he had to.
Something flows between the two of you, a spark that gives Techno the impression that things will be okay in the end. He gives you a small smile and his brain goes haywire when you return it.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," he says, getting a bit bolder, "Any time?"
"Whatever is good," you answer, "I'm not really busy with anything."
"Got it," Techno glances behind him where Philza has waited out of earshot. God bless that man, "I shouldn't keep him waiting, huh?"
"I guess not," you sadly smile, "I'll see you around, blade."
The nickname unearths old feelings he hasn't felt in a while. He hated the nickname when Tommy or Wilbur used it, insinuating he was nothing but a mere weapon at their disposal. But, when it was you, all it felt like was just a short of his name like it was supposed to be.
"I'll see you then," he agrees and finally takes his leave and goes to regroup with Philza, gravel crunching beneath his boots.
This time, the voices are not screaming for him to go back but instead are tittering excitedly, eager to return to your side the next day.
✧ ˚  ·    .
"I've got it, mate. Don't worry."
It feels like Phil's said it for the thousandth time as Techno prepares to take his leave for your house. He's fretting. There's no doubt he trusts Philza with handling all the chores, but…
"I will worry," Techno steps around him and tests the weight of an iron pick in the palm of his hand, "You're old. Shriveling, even."
"What?!" Phil unnecessarily yells before groaning, "And just when I thought I had an ally in this world."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being dramatic?"
"I mean, that's what I said," Techno shrugs, and grabs his cape, "Next thing you know, you're gonna be throwing out your back trying to farm wheat."
"Oh, fuck off," the blonde snaps but lets a small smile slip anyways, "You should get going."
"I should," he agrees, strapping on his mask and sliding his crown into place, "I'll send a message when I'm on my way back."
"Gotcha. Good luck."
"Thanks, Phil."
Techno didn't think he'd be getting answers this soon. He walks the route that he did the other day, retracing footsteps and finding the portal with ease. Taking the obligatory invis pot, he passes through and begins on the final stretch to your home. After sending a brief update to Phil on his communicator, Techno spots your house on the horizon. The journey was significantly shorter now that he didn't have to worry about dragging behind his friend. Philza was a good travel companion, but contrary to the man's word, he was getting a bit slower.
You're outside already, setting up a modest farm and working the soil to fertility when your head perks up upon hearing his footsteps. You get to your feet, wiping dirt that smudges on tan pants, and wave him inside welcomingly. The house is warm and Techno kicks the spare dirt off his boots for common courtesy.
"Welcome back," you greet cautiously, closing the door behind him generously, "Do you want -"
Your words cut themselves off as he begins unbuckling the straps of his mask after recalling your request from the day before. He glances up, hands freezing in place and afraid he did something wrong already.
"Nothing," you mumble, averting your eyes quickly, "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Anything you'd like," he replies evenly and you nod, disappearing into a hallway presumably to change out of your dirt-stained clothing.
Techno sighs, lowering his mask fully and setting it on a side table before sitting on the long couch you had placed next to it. He glances around the room to take in your belongings. There’re the necessities like crafting tables, furnaces, chests sporadically placed around, brewing stands that bubble lazily with potions, but there's also little trinkets like a colorful feather, a collection of rocks carved into statues, a piece of an ocean monument. They all reflect things you've done, a past he didn't get to be a part of. His gaze drifts to a familiar-looking piece of stone and his body jolts slightly as he realizes what it was.
So you'd kept a brick for yourself.
"Sorry about that," you announce your presence, sweeping back into the room and holding out a steaming sweet-smelling cup to him, "Hope you still like hot chocolate."
He hasn't had it in a while and if he ever did have it, his tongue has long forgotten the taste of it. "Thank you," he murmurs, looking at the cream piled on top of the liquid, "I don't know if I still do."
"You really did when we were - uh - comrades?" The title sounds uncomfortable, "So I hope your preferences haven't changed since I cut back on the sweetness the way you liked it."
Techno blinks dumbly. He forgot so many things about you, yet you seemed to remember every last detail about him. Guilt floods through his chest and he frowns.
"What -" he begins slowly, "Happened?"
You sit down on the other end of the couch and draw your knees to your chest, sighing as if mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.
"The war ended. And I wanted to talk to you about something the day after to hopefully clear something up, but…" you swallow, and he grit his teeth nervously, "You were gone. With no - no trace or sign."
Techno doesn't say anything but his lips do press into a firm enough line that it hurts. His mind is racing too fast, overflowing with voices that are arguing over what to say and what to not. It's too loud, too painful. So he just talks.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he begins softly, "I grew too attached too fast, and staying would have only hurt you and me."
"How so?"
"You would've grown up. Or you should've at least. You would have had to fall in love and have a family and settle into a content lifestyle before leaving me. I couldn't bear to watch it." He brings the rim of the cup to his lips and sips. It's warm and chocolatey but not too rich, cutting back on the sweetness just as you'd claimed. It makes him feel warm inside, cozy. Like he'd finally found home after a long day of work.
"But I didn't."
Your words make him look back up, afraid of something in you. Your relationship is rocky after all these years and that terrifies Techno more than it should. He's pitiful, nearly cowering away from someone so small yet so large.
"I'm sure you've already figured it out, but our time on this earth is infinite somehow," you search for something in his eyes but he doesn't know what, "If you stayed, I would have told you."
"I'm sorry." It bursts out from his lips too fast for him to hold back. He can tell the apology catches you off guard, startling as surprise curls your features before settling back down.
"I suppose we should take the time to get to know each other again," you say gingerly, "It's been a long time without you, Techno."
He sighs in exasperation. "I know.”
He knows he fucked up this time. All those centuries he could've been by your side instead of abandoning you selfishly for his own good. He didn't know how to be a friend back then and even though he has Phil under his belt now…
How does he reconnect with you?
He surveys you and you look him right back, not pushing him to say anything. You're patient and it's a virtue you've carried that makes him grateful.
"History painted you as someone who's larger than life," he decides to say, "What happened to you?"
His words were a little harsh, but you don't seem to take it to heart as you shrug indifferently. "People change, Techno. Did you expect me to stay the same after all this time?"
"The people never forgot you," he glances at the brick that lies stiffly on the shelf, "But it seems you've forgotten yourself."
For once, you're speechless and the room falls into an awkward silence. He doesn't regret his words per se but he does admit he could've been a bit more understanding about it.
"Do you know why I'm called the Grieving Leader?"
Techno raises an eyebrow. "I'm assuming it's because you lost a loved one. A significant other, a child, or the like. Time's not really a wish-granting machine."
"It was because of you."
The world stopped spinning on its axis and everything suspended in a perfect freeze.
"Things were such a whirlwind when you were gone," you continue serenely as if your reveal wasn't currently making his entire beliefs shatter, "I desperately looked for you everywhere. Villages knew nobody of your appearance and the people had to watch as I descended into near madness with the sudden emptiness you left in your place."
He suddenly can't get the sudden horrifying image out of his head of you asking every face you encounter if they'd seen him, reaching, calling, never getting an answer as he slips out of your grasp.
"You left me," your voice cracks, finally a break in the defenses you've carefully crafted against him since he showed up at your door, "And I daresay I would've searched to the ends of the earth had my sadness not drowned me before my longing did."
Techno almost breaks the fragile mug in his hands just from how tightly he held onto it. He wants to evaporate suddenly, to sink into the earth and never move again. The agony he forced onto you must've been terrible if the people felt it fit to garner a name for it. He shakes, lost in the way the voices are shrieking at him, rising up and punishing him for subjecting you to such torment.
He feels it festering, the bloodlust that comes whenever they get too passionate about something. Techno tries to repress it, but it's futile to try. His hand itches for the blade in his inventory to spill crimson and take more lives than he can count in a fit of adrenaline and horror. He almost dips beneath the waves to drown.
Until a small hand rests on his.
You've moved from your spot, gently prying the cup out of his hands to set off on the side table. "Techno," you murmur softly, "Stay with me now."
His wide blown out eyes are reflected in your own pupils, ruby red irises fluctuating between light and dark as he fights the entity that thrives on inside of him. "I'm sorry -"
You take a seat next to him, weight dipping into the cushions and making him painfully aware of your presence as you reach up to tilt his chin towards you. "Listen, those voices aren't you. I know who you are." Your gentle tone is something safe to hold onto in the flurry of the storm. It's a shelter. An escape. "I know you didn't mean to. You didn't know."
“But I should’ve -”
“We both should’ve done a lot of things differently,” you interject feebly, “But what’s important is that we work on being better together. And I forgive you.”
Forgiveness. It’s a foreign word to Technoblade that he never seeks after countless betrayals. But, hearing it fall from your lips might have been the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
The voices recede back, letting you have your moment. Maybe he was right before. Maybe it would be okay in the end. You slowly drop your hands from his face and come to rest them on your lap. For a little bit, there’s nothing but comfortable silence as you and he process the resolution you’ve arrived at.
“So what now?” he asks.
You tilt your head.
“Well, I want to hear what you’ve been up to,” he hums, copying your action and lolling his over to match yours, “Like you said, I’m sure we have much to catch up on.”
“You’re not wrong,” you smile, “How about you stay for dinner tonight? I can make you something nice and we can just talk.”
“That sounds nice,” he pauses, “Just don’t poison my food or anything before I make it up to you, okay?”
A burst of laughter bubbles from your lips and he has to pause to listen. Your shoulders shake as if you’ve forgotten what it felt like, the biggest grin he’s yet to see on your splitting your features. It’s beautiful and fragile and fleeting all at once.
Techno commits this image of you in his mind, burning it into his memories so he’d never forget again.
You usher him to the kitchen, flitting around and handing him a stack of potatoes to cut up for dinner as you fish out various other ingredients to prepare the meal. While doing so, he tells you about his life in the tundra with Phil.
"So you have polar bears and how many foxes?"
"Three," Techno answers, taking caution to not dice any of his fingers off as he chopped up the root vegetables, "But only Blitz really trusts me."
"That's a nice name," you muse from where you marinate a roast, "And you said Steve is your emotional support bear?"
"Something like that," he hums, "What about you? Any pets or lovers or stories to share?"
You snicker. "Lovers?"
"You never know," he retorts, "Well, you would. But I don't."
"Fortunately," you begin, walking to the basin where you begin washing off your hands, "I haven't had any suitors since we were last together. God would've had to save the poor souls who couldn't keep up."
"That's good," he lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, "I haven't had a problem keeping up with you."
"That's we've been apart for centuries, dickhead," you say lightheartedly and flick water at him, "You might change your mind."
"I won't," he grumbles and twists to wipe the water droplets off on his shoulder.
You dry your hands on a sage green tea towel and pause by his side. He can feel the weight of your eyes scrutinizing him, looking for something.
"These are new," you murmur, reaching up to run the lightest touch of your fingertips over crudely healed scars that litter his face.
He nearly shudders at the tentative contact, already missing it as you withdraw away quickly in fear that you'd overstepped boundaries. It leaves a ghost of a feeling that he can still feel the weight on the surface of his skin.
"There was a lot of time to get into fights," he answers even though you didn't ask anything, "Enemies tended to aim for the eyes so I just remedied it with a mask."
“Ever the resourceful one,” you chuckle, “Didn’t expect you to fashion it after a pig out of all the animals, though. What made you choose it?
"They like potatoes."
"Of course."
It feels easy talking to you even after all this time like nothing in the world could touch you. It felt so painfully nostalgic, just the two of you having pleasant conversations that would stay between you like secrets nobody else could know.
That night, Techno eats at your table and listens to your stories. That night, Techno lets you study his face and run fingers over scars he’s forgotten about.
That night, Techno falls in love with somebody all over again, but this time, he knows they share his infinite forever.
And perhaps that was the cruelest fate he could be subjected to.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Techno gets a sudden message from you.
This isn’t unusual considering you’ve been talking over the communicators for the past couple of weeks. As you settle into being around each other again and Phil gets used to having you around, you and Techno have certainly been making progress on building up your relationship and healing old wounds.
There's less fidgeting and hesitation, replaced by familiar comfort and the safety that comes with knowing that neither of you are leaving again any time soon. The piglin hybrid notices you smile more and laugh easier, sending his world spinning on its axis when you ask if you can braid his hair like old times. He has to resist the urge to fall asleep to your gentle tugs as you weave his rose-pink locks into a fancy fishtail style, gleefully slinging it over his shoulder for him to see. He doesn't want to take it out.
You make meals and help him take care of the wolf army. Steve's taken a liking to you too, greeting you every time you make the trip to the tundra for head pats. The foxes, although wary by nature, are slowly warming up as well. Life is good for once and it's something Techno rarely thought nowadays because of the server's drama and constant demands for his death.
The communicator buzzes in his pocket and Techno fishes it out, squinting at the screen. There's a single question from you.
"Can I ask you something?"
His eyebrows furrow and curiosity gets the better of him as he quickly types back a response.
"Mind going on a date with me?"
That is the last thing Techno expects and he almost drops the damn device when he reads it. His thoughts scatter as the voices burst out with joy, excitedly chattering away about the possibilities as he tries to form a cohesive thought. He hears his heartbeat thudding in his ears as he stares at your message, rereading it over and over as if there was a hidden message between the lines. Slowly, he begins typing.
Technoblade whispers to you: "Sure When?"
You whisper to Technoblade: "Next Wednesday? Can you pick me up when the sun's setting?"
Technoblade whispers to you: "I can do that."
You whisper to Technoblade: "Perfect! See you then :)"
You shouldn't be so casual about this but Techno's half glad you were straightforward with it. Or maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe you meant it as a platonic date. Those existed. What does he do? Does he dress up for it? Considering his normal attire, it was enough to pass as formal just on its own. What does he bring? Flowers, right? People brought flowers for dates. But what kind of flowers? They all had meanings, and Techno didn't want to accidentally give you blooms that insinuated that he hated you or anything.
Without thinking, he searches through his contacts for someone to help.
/msg Nihachu Do you know anything about flowers?
Later, he's left with a handful of carnations, dahlias, camellias, statices, purple hyacinths, white tulips, and pink stargazer lilies. Niki explained it as she went, combing through fragile petals before handing them all to him and wishing him luck. He reminded himself to pay her back later. Every one of the florets had their own unique scent and Techno could only hope you like them. Honestly, he was probably stressing out more than need be, but it was you.
Just that fact alone was enough to make his foundations crumble
Wednesday came and all Techno had was his rambles to Steve who simply looked up at him with beady black eyes. His flowers were in his inventory, waiting to be presented as he passed through the Nether and up into the Overworld. As he nears your house, he stops. Silently, he moves to crouch behind the trunk of a tree close enough that he can listen.
There's somebody already there.
"Can we just agree to disagree?" You ask, amusement laced into your tone, "Surely we can come to some sort of compromise."
"No, we fucking won't," a voice sharply retaliates, and Techno's breath hitches, "You've fallen off and your lover boy isn't anywhere to be found. So tough shit."
"Quackity, you said your name was?" You ask idly, "I wonder how much you really know about us."
"Enough that I know you're valuable to Technoblade. Now you can come silently or-"
"Uh huh. I've heard that one before."
Techno wants to laugh and cry at the same time. So this is why you'd asked him to come: for backup. He doesn't know exactly if he dodged a bullet or took one, but he didn't have time to think about it now that you required his aid. He slips his mask over his face and straps it into place.
"Listen here, you little shit. You think Techno's a good person? Do you see this scar?"
"Looks more like free dental service."
"Fuck off."
Poor guy. If only he knew the consequences of targeting you. Techno takes a glance around the corner, seeing you practically offering your wrists out as Quackity claps iron cuffs to them. They're similar to the ones the Butcher Army used to restrain him after threatening Carl. His jaw tightens, wondering what you were doing. The voices are brewing, chanting for blood already just at the sight. It's almost irresistible but he reminds himself that you need a level head right now, not a bloodthirsty raging beast.
Just as your captor begins to tug you along, Techno makes his presence known. He stands patiently, eyes flashing dangerously beneath his mask.
"Technoblade!" Quackity cheers, a forced smile splitting his lips, "What brings you here?"
"Wondering what you're doing with my," he glances at you, "business partner."
Quackity's face curls while you merely raise a brow behind him. "Business partner? The fuck are you trying to do?"
"Potatoes," he says and you roll your eyes, but a smile ticks the corner of your mouth, "Don't you know how valuable agriculture can be? It's actually a fascinating pattern in history -"
"Cut the shit," Quackity hisses, "I know you're here for them."
Techno blinks. "Don't hurt anyone now."
"Well, I won't if you -"
"I wasn't talking to you."
His gaze slides from Quackity to you who finally lets loose the smile you've been holding back when you feel the weight of his look. "If I know anything about you, you don't just let people take you willy nilly. So what're you up to?"
"I was bored," you chirp happily.
Quackity sputters, deciding to cut to the chase and draw a netherite axe from his inventory. The heavy blade gleams in the moonlight.
"Techno, if you don't -"
"You might want to keep an eye on your captive," Techno cuts him off idly, "Just a suggestion."
Almost as if on cue, you disappear from sight and the cuffs fall to the ground with a clatter.
"The fuck?" Quackity whirls around, staring at the abandoned iron incredulously, "Where the fuck are you?!"
Ominous laughter rings out followed by footsteps on dirt then gravel. The last of the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the sky in a dark blue. The wind blows gently, adding to the atmosphere.
"You just don't mess with them," Techno shrugs, feeling your invisible hand slip around his wrist, "They're a little sneaky, aren't they?"
"Enough with the fucking games, Technoblade," Quackity snaps, turning the blade onto the piglin hybrid now, "I'm so fucking done with you."
"Alright," he slides you an enderpearl, "Guess that means our little excursion is over."
He shifts his foot eastward before lobbying his own pearl. It makes a graceful arc and another follows it barely a second after. Before he teleports, Techno flips his middle finger at Quackity. He laughs to himself, hearing the man's angry screeches as his feet hit the new ground. Your giggles reach his ears as you land next to him, the potion ebbing away to reveal your figure.
"You," he begins, rushing to catch his breath, "Are so bad."
"Me?" Your smile is brighter than any cloudless sunny day, "You're the one who said we were business partners when I gave you an excuse!"
"I panicked!" He runs a hand through his hair, "That guy tried to execute me, bro."
"Even better," you say brightly, "Can I crash at yours?"
"I don't see any other solution," he grumbles lightheartedly but starts towards the nether portal anyway, "Next time you want a bit of fun, just ask and we can, you know, not mess with people that'll try to use you as leverage against me."
"Worrywart," you tease, "I can handle myself."
"I know," Techno sighs, coming down from the adrenaline and warding off the voices who want him to go back and finish the one-eyed bastard for good, "That doesn't mean I can't be concerned for your safety."
"I'll be more careful," you muse, catching his hand and swinging it leisurely between your bodies, "but only for you."
Only for you.
You tell Techno about your day. About the unfair amounts of poisonous potatoes that were in your garden today. About the pack of dogs you were sad you couldn't tame (to which he promised to give you some bones). About the way you'd learned about Quackity's plans to come after you and decided to make a fun little game out of it.
"He'll probably be targeting you now more than ever," Techno hums, "It's probably for the best that you stay with Phil and me for a bit until things settle down a bit."
"Okay," you agree, "We'll have to go back at some point for clothes, though."
"You can just borrow a shirt of mine tonight," he offers but immediately backpedals when he says it, "I mean - if you want to. You don't have to if you don't."
You fall silent for a moment and he fears he might have crept you out or something, but instead, you hold onto his hand a little tighter.
"I'd like that."
You walk back in soothing silence, nudging bodies into each other and squeezing fingers as if reassuring the other that the both of you are still there. Techno thinks about the flowers in his inventory and cringes. Well, he didn’t want to awkwardly shuffle back to Niki and mumble out an excuse as to why he still had them nor did he necessarily want to keep holding onto them. The voices urge him to just give it to you. After all, they were meant to be a gift, date or not.
Techno removes his cape before you step into the Nether portal to the tundra and you toss him a confused look until you find yourself amid snow and cold winds. You make a noise of protest at the sudden drop of temperature until he slings the thick fabric over your shoulders, blinking as white fur brushes your cheeks and he focuses on clasping it together. The air becomes thick with suspense as if the world was holding its breath waiting for something. Techno meets your eyes, face so dangerously close to yours as his breath hitches and he controls it to not fan onto you. You’re searching for something in his eyes again and the voices murmur softly to close the distance.
Neither of you speak when he slowly pulls away, but the taste of mourning is tangible.
You trudge through the powdery terrain, leaving two sets of footprints behind that’s vaguely endearing in an aesthetic sort of way. Phil’s house is already dark when the conjoined houses fade into view and Techno mumbles something about him being an old man causing you to laugh. The cabin provides a much welcome heat, just in time too as it begins snowing outside.
Techno climbs up the ladder to his room and shuffles through shirts that might be fitting on you. To be fair, his form was much larger than yours so any would provide enough to preserve your modesty. He settles for a soft and simple collared cotton number with adjustable ties, throwing it over his arm and descending back down to find that you’ve coaxed the fire back to life, which crackles heartily. You give him a warm smile when you hear the creak of the wooden planks and he notices his cape is missing from your body, strung up neatly on the rack near the door.
“You can change upstairs,” is all he offers, mind blanking, “Or in here and I can go upstairs. Up to you.”
“I think I’ll change down here if you don’t mind,” you hum, “Think I wanna hit the hay after such an exciting night.”
“Alright,” he agrees softly, tossing the article of clothing over the arm of the chair and turning to take to the rungs of the ladder when he pauses once more.
“You okay?”
Your tone rolls with a slight hint of worry and Techno damns the voices for what they’re pushing him to do.
“Yeah, I just -” he pulls away from the ladder and holds out his hand in empty air, “I know it wasn’t a real date or anything, and no offense, but it was a pretty shit one if it actually was but…”
He lets his words trail off as the bundle of flowers materialize into his palm, their light weight comforting in the anxiety that has suddenly taken home in his throat. He watches your eyes widen at the soft pinks, purples, and whites of the petals and your mouth drop open silently at the implications.
“I mean, it’s not much - and I had to - I didn’t know what to do,” Techno’s rambling now, your lack of words causing some forms of excuses to pour out of him, “You don’t have to take them if you don’t like them. We can use them for dye or -”
He bites his tongue.
You walk forward, carefully taking them by the stems from his hand and holding them to your chest, just over your heart. Your head dips down, eyes fluttering shut as you inhale their scent and the corners of your mouth pull upward.
“You’re such a dork,” your fond whisper reaches his ears, “They’re lovely.”
The voices sing at your praise, pushing over one another as they celebrate this mini victory. They only exemplify as you reach upward, arm hesitating before brushing aside his bangs and sliding down the side of his jaw, cradling it for a second or two. Techno goes stone still, swallowing as he tries not to absolutely melt into your delicate touch. It feels too long and too short when you retreat. You can probably see the blush that floods his pale cheeks as he fumbles himself back into the real world.
“Goodnight,” he bids you, the voices gleefully recounting what just happened.
“Goodnight, Tech.”
He turns to the ladder and disappears up into his quarters.
✧ ˚  ·    .
You stare at the flowers in your hands then at the shirt that lies over the couch. Your stomach’s turning with something like adrenaline and something like butterflies as you catch your heart racing. Swiftly changing into his clothing so you can go to bed, you almost choke on his scent that lingers all around you now.
"Shit," you whisper beneath your breath.
Because it appears that even after all this time, you’re still unconditionally and undeniably in love with Technoblade.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Things are so dramatically different between you and Techno, even Phil has noticed it.
There's a tenderness between the two of you, dancing around each other and beating around the bush when your feelings are right there for all to see. Lasting glances and brushing of bodies make Techno's brain go haywire, but you never talk about it. You enjoy the moments but don't risk losing them. However, it soon becomes unavoidable when a snowstorm rips through the area and traps you inside the cabin.
It's intense enough that Phil couldn't even risk opening the door in fear of being blown away by strong winds and unyielding freezing temperatures accompanied by hail. Techno peeks outside and grumbles, rewiring his daily chores to adjust to the sudden weather pattern.  You're unused to it, wonder ebbing into your features as you watch the white landscape through the windows. It's brutal, pieces of ice battering against the reinforced glass panes that thud insistently and threaten to shatter it.
"I made sure they'll never break," Techno reassures when he spots you, "This isn't the first snowstorm."
"So we're trapped in here?"
"More or less."
You don't seem upset about it. Much the opposite in fact, as you merely hum and wander away from the door.
"I guess we'll have to get cozy then," you muse, joining his side where he's adding wood to the fire pit, "There're worse people to get stuck alone with."
Alone together. It's almost like fate wanted the two of you to get the deed over with already. There's not much wiggle room in the cabin itself and Techno usually went into a small hibernation when storms like these happened, lulled away by the sounds of the natural words banging at his door until slipping into unconsciousness. However, now that you're here for this one, he thinks it may be impossible to go to sleep for that long.
"How long do you think it'll last?" You ask curiously, bumping a shoulder into his arm.
"Maybe two weeks or so," he replies, bumping back, "Give it time. I'm sure you'll be out of here before I drive you crazy." Even though you already drive me crazy.
"You can try," you say cockily, "But I doubt living with you will be that hard."
You end up being so very wrong because there's no escape from your emotions now. One moment, Techno would be reading only to find you next to him, idly scanning pages over his shoulder or he'd be smithing at the anvil and catch you watching him with intense focus. You're so irresistible and loud without having done anything out of line or talking and it leaves Techno washed up and dry every time he says goodnight and you hesitate like you want to say something more.
If limbo was anything like this, then he was fucked. Always silently reaching, always quietly calling, always hopelessly trying to suppress himself. You were so close yet so far always almost there before he lets you slip through his fingers again. You keep him on a line without a hook, caught up without even trying. He almost tells himself he doesn't love you but if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire.
Techno's longing. He's suffering. It's all your fault.
He doesn't blame you.
It's one night that all bets are off.  Techno treated you to a nice dinner of mushroom soup and recited a Greek story that he held in the back of his mind, eliciting laughter and wide smiles that he treasures in his memories. The storm is still going on strongly, showing no signs of releasing soon. It's torture, but even though it hurts, it feels oddly good. Life might dangle you on a string he could never reach, but at least he can just exist with you like this for a while.
He's drowsy after the day, having sorted through his chests monotonously and putting things in their places with your help so he goes to bid you goodnight when you speak up.
"How long is this going to go on?"
His eyebrows pinch together in confusion, thinking with muted fear that you finally might have had enough. "I can't exactly tell the snowstorm to stop -"
"Not that," you swallow and fiddle with the long sleeves of his shirt that does not fit on you but suits you well, "You know what I mean. What are we Techno?"
You say his name in the tone where he knows that you're tired of avoiding the elephant in the room and want to get straight to the point. He sighs, sitting on the couch and mentally preparing himself. He feels you sit next to him, the silence suffocating and Techno wants to fade away again.
There's empty space.
Until he talks.
"Do you know why I left?"
You blink, looking up at him.
"You said it was because you couldn't bear to watch me grow old," barely topping a whisper, "If you stayed in perfect, pristine, and unaging condition while I shriveled away."
"Half right," he corrects and blows out a breath, "I said I couldn't bear to watch you fall in love and grow a family before dying."
You fall quiet, his words rolling in your head and he can almost picture the gears ticking away in your brain. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do,” he objects immediately, “You - You’re everything. To me.”
It’s uneasy and not at all the romantic confession you probably deserved. You should’ve had a grand gesture with flowers and confident words proclaiming everlasting immortal love. But, even now, your shared past taints his emotions with uncertainty and makes him stumble. One word from you could silence him forever.
Your mouth opens, then closes. You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair as you try and find the correct words to say. “I - I’ll be honest, I wasn’t just planning on telling you about my immortality the day you left.” You reach out for him and he readily intertwines his fingers with yours. Your body temperature is significantly lower than his so you’re a little cooler to the touch. “I also wanted to tell you that I - That I grew too attached to you as well. I was afraid of watching you grow older, but I would have done so if just to be by your side.”
“So what of your feelings now?”
You blink then inhale deeply.
“I’m afraid they haven’t changed.”
He can’t help himself as the voices rise up to command him, and this time, he succumbs easily. A battle-worn hand slides gently up your neck, tilting your jaw upwards. Techno doesn’t think. He just does. A fire ignites in him as his mouth claims yours, boiling higher and higher until all he can see is red. His eyes lid as you grasp onto his wrist for dear life, trying to hold your own against the pressure of him on you, and your eyes flutter shut as you give in to the desire that’s grown between your bodies since the day he found you in that cottage. When he moves back to grant you space to breathe, you only chase after him, lips pecking the corner of his mouth as you slide down to rest your forehead against his chest.
He can feel his heart beating strongly against your ear, mind lost in the voices that are shouting your name and in the way you hold onto him still like you never wanted to let go. He realizes then that he truly does love you. It seemed so simple an answer for a problem maximized outside of his control, but it all came full circle. It’s a beautiful truth with transparently brutal candor.
Techno loves you and you loved him back even after all the unnecessary heartbreak he forced you to endure.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” you mumble into his shirt, melting into him as his arms wrap around your torso and pull you in deeper.
“Then I’d follow without question.”
Sometimes, living was too hard so existing was all you could do. Miles away from any other civilization and listening to the windows rattling violently against the storm outside, it was easy to feel like you were the only beings on the earth anymore. You felt so fragile in his arms, but if anything, he knew that he held the world’s most dangerous weapon like a ticking bomb, ready to explode and devastate the terrain for miles around.
And so Icarus fell in love with the sun.
That night, he doesn’t leave you to huddle up on the couch but rather invites you upstairs with him. You look at home amongst his things and Techno nearly gets whiplash from the nostalgia of spending nights with you in camp tents as he served as your right-hand man. But you don’t give him enough time to dwell on it, pulling him towards the bed and onto the mattress. That night he tucks you into his body, finally indulging in everything he’s been holding back and felt so liberating to be able to hold you with tenderness like this.
For the first time in years, the voices let Technoblade have a good night’s sleep.
You no longer sleep alone, spending every waking and unconscious moment you can with him. The atmosphere doesn’t swirl with thick tension, but rather a fondness that comes with your newfound relationship. It’s more intimate than when you were used to, putting feelers out and testing the waters on what was okay and what wasn’t. It was a slow learning process, but you were getting there.
He kisses what he can reach, thanks to his stature and you quickly learn that he’s a big fan of the forehead and behind the ear. As for yourself, you like peppering small kisses on the inside of his wrist and on his hands. Even better is when you’re leveled and you can reach more.
Techno takes care of you, always checking to make sure you’re in good condition and you retaliate in kind by asking his voices things to keep them satisfied. They’re happier now that you’ve reunited, and there’s fewer headaches and stress that come with being a vessel for the Blood God.
You don’t go without your ups and downs, though.
“How are you this evening, darlin’?”
It’s an accident and he immediately regrets it as your head snaps to look at him with wide eyes. Pet names were never something either of you had considered or even talked about and Techno himself doesn’t even know where it came from, an apology getting lodged in his throat. That is until you take up one of his large hands in your own two and smile gently.
“Very well, my dear. And you?”
You laugh at whatever expression he pulls and tug him along to the couch, saying something about needing a warm cup of tea. The voices start repeating it, cooing out the word like a mantra which only causes him to be even more bashful. You sit him down and kiss his temple fondly.
“I’ll be back with some water,” you promise, an adoring look in your eyes, “Please don’t flush anymore, or else I’ll think you’ve come down with something.”
Soon, you have two steaming cups of tea in your hand as he reads a tale to you. His monotone dig is soothing even though some would say it droned on, lulling your eyes shut and your cup almost falls from your hands. Techno chuckles softly, plucking the fragile dishware from you and setting it aside. He tucks you into his side and continues reading from the text, pausing every once in a while to answer your occasional sleepy question.
“Can we go to bed?” you eventually ask, “Don’t wanna...fall asleep down here so you have to carry me up.”
“Of course,” he murmurs softly, bookmarking his page.
Anything you asked of him, he would grant to the best of his abilities after all.
The snowstorm begins to calm down, finally satisfied that it has done its job. The next morning, you awake to snowflakes falling gentle as can be to the earth below.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Techno forgets his birthday every year.
To be fair, he had much more important things to be worrying about than celebrating the day he was brought into this world, but Phil was an insistent bastard and didn't like letting it go. This time around seemed to be no different.
The sun intrudes into his eyelids, prodding him awake. He grumbles at the prospect of being conscious and ducks his face into the crook of your neck to hide from it. Your hand comes up, running through his hair and brushing across his scalp lazily as you murmur something.
"Need to get up," you say softly, "There's animals to be fed.".
"Five more minutes,” he pleads like a child, “Not in the mood to be up yet.”
You breathe out a laugh and let him be, continuing on your soothing touch that causes him to wane between being awake and drifting back to sleep. Suddenly, his ears flick upon hearing voices and he realizes they’re approaching quickly. Techno sits up abruptly, causing you to give him a quizzical look until his expression smooths out then hollows.
“What day is it?” he asks.
“The…” you think about it, “first. Why?”
“Of fucking course it is."
You open your mouth to ask something but are interrupted by sharp knocks on the door. Techno growls beneath his breath and swings his legs over the bed.
"Tech, what's going on?" You ask, copying his actions and following him down the ladder.
"Just an annual thing," he sighs, "It's my birthday."
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You never told me."
"It's not important," he mumbles half-heartedly, slinging his cape over his shoulders, "But I was foolish to think Phil would forget this year."
"I suppose it's sort of insignificant considering our situations," you shrug on your own cloak you've obtained and set a gentle hand on his upper arm, "But still, it would have been nice to know so I could've done something for you."
"You're already enough."
He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut for a brief moment before blinking like you'd been in a trance and weren't sure what you'd been doing beforehand. He takes your hand in his and opens the door.
The whole Syndicate is there, shining faces grinning expectantly at him. It’s touching, the way they’re eager for his reaction and he catches you tilting your head with a small smile of your own. They’ve set up a quaint area outside, complete with cakes, complete with five seats and it makes his heart twinge at the prospect that they’ve thought of you. They hand over fireworks to shoot into the sky, pass around slices of cake that Ranboo regenerates with his natural silk touch, and talk about the recent server drama that has been afflicting the server. Wilbur still seems to be a sore point for Niki, so Techno makes sure to steer the conversation away from it for her sake.
Somebody was here.
Techno risks a glance and his stomach drops. He doesn’t recall Quackity being invited to the party. He turns his attention back to the conversation where Phil is mentioning the risk of new governments on the horizon which very well meant that there was a chance that the Syndicate would be having work to do. He presses his lips together turns to look at you where you’re wiping frosting from your mouth. You meet his eyes with uncertainty.
“Can I help you?” you ask lightheartedly.
He reaches up, holding your head in place as he thumbs off some of the icing you’ve missed. “Wanna help tear down governments with us? Or was that a one-time thing?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” you huff out a laugh, “Is that what this little book club is about?”
“I’ll think about it,” you decide, “I’m a little out of shape since the last government I took down was literally centuries ago.”
“You’d do great,” he assures, pushing back his seat and dusting off his hands as he stands.
“Where’re you going?”
“Bathroom,” he answers shortly and you nod.
He leaves, thankful you didn’t ask anything else.
Quackity tells him that Dream wants to cash in his favor. He says that he wants a visit and Techno thinks that it was about time he checked up on his old pseudo-rival anyway. He knows it’s a trap and knows that something will go wrong, but it would be okay in the end because Technoblade never dies. However, as Quackity’s figure retreats and Techno begins routing a path in his head, he thinks about you.
What would you think of the prospect of being apart for another unspeakable amount of time? Surely you wouldn’t be too overjoyed at the fact, but to be fair, neither was he. When Techno returns to the table, you greet him cheerfully and offer a forkful of cake to him.
He brands your hopeful expression into his brain.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Technoblade doesn’t know how to break the news to you. The day he wanted to go was looming nearer and nearer while you stayed in perfect ignorance of his eventual departure. He nearly wanted to say fuck it and not go at all, but he couldn’t do that. Especially not when Dream was cashing in on the wish that Techno promised him for saving his life.
He’s outside right now, standing amongst the icy cold of the terrain. It’s the middle of the night and you slumber on peacefully as he slipped out of bed and into the cool air. It clears his thoughts and though the temperature minimally inconvenienced him, the wind provided clarity to his jumbled thoughts as if it were sweeping it all into line.
The stars glow brightly out here without the hindrance of the torches and lights that come with the Greater Dream SMP. Instead, they twinkle against the dark canvas of sky, tracing invisible constellations of the few he knows the names and stories of. Even after centuries of change and his life whittling away, the stars stayed the same until their time gave up and they exploded.
Maybe if he survived the burning of the world he could walk among the stars. But even for an immortal, that was a long time.
He barely registers the sound of footsteps behind him and a yawn before a gentle touch grazes the back of his hand.
“Tech, come back to sleep.”
Your voice is soft, a siren’s song amid the storm on the sea. He almost mindlessly follows until he hums indifferently.
“I like it out here.”
You sigh, joining his side and lacing your fingers with him. Your breath makes puffs in the air that he gets hypnotized by briefly.
“So what’re you thinking about?”
He should’ve known you would have pieced that much together. After all, you’re the one who’s known him even longer than Phil has and that was an accomplishment in itself.
“I’ve been putting off telling you.”
“Telling me what?”
He’s already told the aforementioned bird hybrid that he was going to go to the prison. The man was understandably concerned for Techno’s safety and even brought up you. Techno didn’t know how to answer then and he definitely didn’t know how to answer now.
He closes his eyes and exhales.
“I’m going away.”
There’s a momentary pause before you shatter the movements of the tundra as if you commanded the world to stop spinning. The wind even stopped blowing, leaving empty space where there was nothing but your shock which he could almost taste on his tongue.
The moment shatters and Techno’s jaw tightens.
“Dream’s requested me to visit. He’s cashing in the favor and I don’t - I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
He’s told you the horror stories of the prison. Of how a boy named Tommy had been trapped in there and was brutally beaten to death with his last life shattering inside the obsidian walls. He can feel your breaths quickening, the panic rising.
“No. No, no, no, no, no...”
Barely a whisper and then growing in volume as your fingers tighten in his. Techno can read the desperation, the anguish in your pleading eyes as you look up. For a moment, he can see how you must have been when he took his first departure, the definition of grief and mourning. Your grasp tenses and your repetitive answers become panicked, spilling too fast from your lips and running like waterfalls from your mouth. They only fade when he reaches up a shaky hand to cradle your face, so small and fragile in his arms.
“You can’t leave me again,” you choke out, voice cracking with the phrase that tears down every defense Techno had tried to build for this moment, “I can’t - I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t,” he assures, pulling you in gently and tucking you against his body. His heart twists when your arms wrap around his midsection, holding onto him like a vice he could never escape from.
He can tell you’re holding back, a dam to hold back the tears from cascading your eyes and staining the white fabric of his button-up. He almost wishes you did just to have something of you on him to remember you by, but if the revolution that sparked your relations taught him anything, it’s that you knew how to make a strong face despite any inner turmoil that might be ruining you. But there’s no facade in the way you shake against his body, shuddering from something that isn’t the cold.
In a twisted cliché moment, snowflakes begin to flutter from the sky, getting trapped in your hair and melting against his skin. Time, he thought, was cruel. It seems to torment him with the same punishment time and time again by allowing him to indulge in you before tearing a rift between your bodies, stretching you across a distance so that you could only be connected by the heartstrings.
You're holding onto him like your life depended on it and maybe it did. He felt that you might dissipate and crumble into a pile of ash as soon as the sun rose even though he knows your life was extended just as much as his was. Technoblade was scared and it figures that you would be the first to instill fear into him after years of life threats and commands for his head. You’d been so large in his life, dipping in then flickering out only to come in with a force equivalent to a million withers.
As he smooths down your hair and presses lips against the crown of your head, he fears a world where you never moved to the Dream SMP. He fears a world where he decided that whatever happened to you happened and didn’t find you. He fears a lack of a snowstorm and the warmth that came with it.
Technoblade fears you because he loves you.
He hates the rift that tears between your bodies when you pull away, eyes shining with glossy tears as you reach up to hold his face in the palm of your hand. He leans into it, pecking a kiss to the inside of your wrist and gazing at you with red eyes beneath his lashes.
The world wheels on as you tread through the snow back up the house together. He holds you close and wraps himself around your body when you collapse onto the mattress. He shushes you when you try multiple times to speak. He whispers for the first time since he’s met you even though he’s thought it plenty of times before.
“I love you.”
A whisper doesn’t skip a beat.
“I love you too.”
✧ ˚  ·    .
On the day of his departure, Technoblade gives you an ivory envelope and tells you not to open it until the next day.
It hurts and your heart burns to know what secrets it holds, but you promise him that you’ll wait. For seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries, millennia, eons, whatever it took. You’d wait for him.
When he kisses you goodbye, you can feel his sorrow, his desire to never let go and you watch him fade into the horizon with a heavy heart, a hollow feeling in your chest like something of yours had been snatched from beneath your nose. Philza rests a heavy hand on your shoulder as you stare in the direction of the Nether portal.
“He’ll be alright, mate,” he murmurs soothingly, “Technoblade never dies.”
“He’s still keeping up with that stupid mantra, huh?”
“Of course he is.”
Some things never changed, it appeared. It’s bittersweet but he was gone now, left to fulfill his end of a deal. You can’t blame him, of course, because he had the same system with you whenever you’d save him from an arrow to the back or an axe into the shoulder blade. But those usually ended up in lighthearted favors that never put him in harm’s way. You’ve decided you already don’t like this Dream character and gods forbid that you ever meet him if anything happened to Techno.
He wrote you a letter. In that ivory envelope sealed with an insignia that Phil identified as the Antarctic Empire’s, ink covers fancy pieces of parchment paper written in delicate handwriting that could be argued for calligraphy. You sit down at his desk and read.
My dearest,
I’ll have been gone by the time you read this. Right now, you are waiting for me upstairs as I write this letter to you for an inevitable future I cannot escape from even if I took Carl. You know better than any that time cannot be raced against. I do not know what awaits me and what it will mean for us, but rest assured that my whole being, body and soul, are yours forevermore.
You should know that I've loved you for every day we've been departed and you'll come to find that I still shall whenever we may meet again.
Please look underneath the floorboard just beside the fireplace. Take care not to burn yourself. I've left you something to remind you of me and to ideally give you hope that soon we will be in each other's arms where I'll never have to let go of you again.
I love you and please, stay safe.
Ever yours,
He left you a golden ring that fits perfectly over your ring finger and you slip it onto your right hand. It's well taken care of and feels like it's been forged with the utmost quality. Etched onto the surface is a phrase written in enchantment table that you manage to translate with what knowledge you have.
Whether near or far, I am always yours
The bed lacks his warmth and sometimes, you can feel his ghost still pulling you close for affection he’s never had before you. You dream about him. You dream of his face and his choking laughter and his touch and his scent that all fade by the morning that leaves you clutching at nothing.
It’s suffering, haunted by a man who’s still very much alive. You glance anxiously at your communicator in case of a death message even though all signal inside of the prison was strictly cut off for obvious reasons. Over time, you grow numb to the pain and remain empty. You still have tea with Phil and laugh at his poor attempt at jokes in a vague dad-like way but it doesn’t stop you from the phantom agony that lingers when you go to bed all alone. But you live.
Philza keeps you company, calming your erratic thoughts in the worst of times as you try to ignore the yearning that pulls you in the direction of where Techno is. You keep Steve and the foxes well fed, toying with the ring that encircles your finger at all times. You stand outside in the cold and look at the stars, reminiscing of a time when he was there to do it by your side. You're not sure if this was worse than when he'd left all those years ago. On one hand, there's no hallucinations or people watching you break down like an iron pick after too much use, but on the other, your ache for him has only grown to the point where he fills your thoughts at every waking and unconscious moment.
You exchange stories with Phil and you listen with interest about all the adventures they've been on together. In return you tell the winged man of what Techno had been like before they met.
"He's near the same as he was now," you think, stretching back your memories, "But his hair wasn't as long. I mean, it was long enough that I could make small braids but nothing like now."
"I can't imagine that," Phil chuckles, pouring more tea into your cups, "He always fussed about it. Said that growing it out was real sentimental to him."
"That might be because I told him he should grow it out," you smile, "And he stopped cutting it from then on."
"You have more influence on him than you know," he says lightly, "Never shuts up about you nowadays."
It makes you feel worse than better.
That night, you look up into the sky and wish on a shooting star, begging for his return.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Prison might be Techno’s new limbo.
Dream’s surprisingly unhelpful, watching with boredom as his new companion paces the length of the small room. It's only been a few hours since Quackity and Sam had left the two alone and the period of contemplation still lasted where Techno was still trying to wrap his head around the situation. The bubbling of lava was starting to drive him insane, but he reminded himself that things were going to be alright in the end. He'd given Phil that book with instructions and, would just be a matter of waiting now.
Dream asked multiple times about what was going to happen, but he kept his mouth shut on the matter, assuring him that things would eventually work out.
Naturally, Techno thinks of you most of all.
He misses the little things. The way you'd press your lips into a flat line when scratching a whetstone across your blade, sharpening the edge into perfection. The way your hands shake ever so slightly when handling magma cream and blaze rods because of the threat of burns. The way you'd smile too big for your face that made him feel like he could take on whole armies at once.
It felt like you were worlds apart and it hurt.
"So," Dream begins, then trails off like he's lost his wording, "anything fun been happening?"
Techno stops his pacing and gives Dream a once-over. He doesn't trust the guy enough to tell him about you. Sure they were partners in this small obsidian room, but outside where you were was very much free reign. And, if he broke Dream out, he couldn't risk that.
Just a few days and he’d be back home.
At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.
A day went by, then two, then a week, then a month. Techno was starting to think the enderpearl wasn’t there. He waited patiently but as every second seemed to slip away from him, hope slowly began draining. Eventually, he comes to the reasonable conclusion that he was trapped in the prison. It was soul-crushing, thinking that he didn’t even give you a proper goodbye or get to see you one last time, but life tended to be unfair to him anyway.
While Dream made light conversation with him, he thought of you. While this Jesus Christ headass appeared in the room, he thinks of you. As the man that everybody called his rival punched away at obsidian tediously, he thinks of you.
The voices hate ever second spent here, screaming their displeasure whenever they could and talking about you nonstop. They want to go home as much as he does, see you as much as he does. He’s just glad they’re not blaming him this time around.
But as he sits in the boiling room and roasts potatoes before the lava, he decides that he’s not going to be caged in here. The whole server could be at his damn throat for all he cared (it practically was at this rate) and nothing would prevent him from going finding his way back home to you. Perhaps he could steal you away and move to somewhere else that contained less drama, far far away from the threat of another war and separation.
He holds onto that hope obsessively, closing his eyes and tilting his head up against the wall to try and get a shred of sleep.
Technoblade breathes out a sigh and wishes on whatever star that be out there that he could be at your side soon.
✧ ˚  ·    .
Despite the warmth that comes with the cabin, you feel cold.
It’s been three months without him and you’ve been barely holding on. Phil tells you you’re strong and you appreciate the sentiment, but you can’t deny the heavy heart that rests in the cavity of your chest. Techno’s memory is a distant daydream at this point and even your unconscious visions of him have halted. You tell yourself that he’ll be back but every day is another one lost and you can feel time ticking away like sand marking down what’s left.
The flowers he gave you are pressed between the pages on a book you own, perfectly preserved to last. The colors have faded since then, desaturating into dull hues that are easier on the eyes. You run your fingertips across the paper fragile petals, taking care not to rip them and disturb their frozen forever.
Well...not forever.
They’d dissipate sooner or later and you’d have to watch as they manage to wilt past death until they were just dust in your hands. Would you, Techno, and Phil receive the sweet embrace of death? If you died, would there be an army of a revolution awaiting you with welcome arms or would there be a barren landscape devoid of everything you’ve pictured in the afterlife?
Death was a fickle thing. It didn’t hesitate nor did it care who it took. But it adamantly kept you alive all these years for a reason. You want to cry and laugh and wake up in a tent with his body missing from his cot, a premonition or something along the lines of it. You want to fall in love with him again, brighter than any firework shot on a birthday night, and feel affection that burns brighter than the vivid colors of the bursts of tints in the night sky.
Two conflicting sides tear you from the inside out, existing between hating him and loving him.
You almost miss Philza sprinting out of his cabin, tracking footprints in the snow as he bolts off somewhere. Your mind runs through everything, trying to think of a reason why he’d be in a hurry so fast. You don’t dare to hope but you do.
An hour later, you know it’s him before you can even hear it. You almost slip off the rungs of the ladder as you throw on a heavy jacket and cloak. You leave the door forgotten open as you cross the threshold and hold your breath.
Your name has never felt so sweet being called.
You spot Technoblade, hair mussed and eyes heavy, but it’s him. A feeling gathers in your chest, building up and overflowing as you shout for him and descend the stairs. You fight against the terrain, a sob choking out of you as his features split into what could only be described as unfiltered love. His arms open, awaiting your long-needed reunion.
Techno murmurs your name as you collide into him, arms constricting around him the tightest he’s ever felt from you and he returns the embrace wholeheartedly, careful not to break you.
He’s missed you. he’s missed you, he’s missed you -
You yank him down, lips colliding into a frantic kiss that you could only describe as desperate. Two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together. A tree’s first blossom opening up to the world. A circle finally coming to a close. An hourglass being flipped as the sands reset, slipping and counting down the seconds.
Technoblade’s home.
You’re home.
You only have each other.
And you’re never letting go ever again.
162 notes · View notes
nbivagant · a day ago
✧˖*°࿐ 𝒅𝒔𝒎𝒑
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# mornings
(fluff | gn!reader) mornings with george <3
nothing yet!
nothing yet!
nothing yet!
nothing yet!
# barista-ing
(fluff | fem!reader | coffee shop au ) wilbur meets a special someone during his shift !
nothing yet!
# technoblade never dies
(angst | gn!reader) technoblade never dies. what a small phrase with such big meaning
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24 notes · View notes
prrism · a day ago
I have come to say I look forward to a new addition to your series pretty much everyday! From what i can tell you really seem to have a good idea of each character and how they act! And as someone who doesn't always enjoy romantic fics this really hits the good ole' fic itch (ew, why do i call it that?) for me! Short and sweet, but we can always look forward to a little bit more!
Keep up the good work!!!❤
Thank you so much, ConfusedTurtle (are we on a first name basis here… I guess) this is really sweet of you to say, I’m glad you’re enjoying my series! Like genuinely, reading this made my heart go "🥺😊❤️" I really appreciate it. I can’t always guarantee a new addition everyday but I certainly try my best. 😄
Have an awesome day or evening depending on where you live, don’t forget, You Rock!
Much Love,
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wrenqueenisboss · 2 days ago
Chapter 5: Studying You
Chapter 5 of my series "New Girl" new girl series masterlist
Warnings: usage of dream's real name, dnf (if you squint), swearing Characters: Dream, Drista, Technoblade, Wilbur, George (mentioned), Sapnap (mentioned), Tommy (mentioned), Niki (mentioned), Jack (mentioned), Sally (mentioned), Philza (mentioned) Word Count: 1.9+ summary: the Was-Taken twins have a much-needed chat. y/n and techno are partnered together for a mythology class assignment
previous chapter < -------- > next chapter
"Is that my fucking shirt?"
You roll your eyes dramatically, taking out your earbuds to look Clay in the eyes. "Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty."
"Shut up."
"Yes, this is actually your shirt, now let me go back to studying."
Your brother wouldn't drop the matter. "Why are you stealing my shirt, much less my favorite shirt?"
You looked down at the shirt that hung loosely off your frame. Indeed, it was his favorite t-shirt. But you didn't realize that when you quickly grabbed it out of the dryer that morning.
"I guess it is," you respond. "But why do you care?"
Clay paused, before shrugging. "I don't, really. It's just weird having you here."
He sat down on the couch a little ways away from you, bowl of cereal in hand. "It's weird living with you again."
He wasn't wrong. You thought it was weird living with your family, too. After years at a boarding school, where you were away from them most of the time, it really was strange.
Plus, Clay looked so different. He was taller, carried himself as much more maturely. It was all so different from the obnoxious and nerdy middle schooler that you left behind.
"You're different," You admit, desperately hoping you don't make the situation any more awkward.
Clay nods. "You too. But it's nice. You're actually pretty cool!"
His words fill you with warmth. It's impossible to keep the slight smile off your lips as you reply, "Likewise. thanks for letting me meet your friends, by the way."
Clay took another bit of his cereal. "No problem. They liked you."
You smirked mischievously. "But not as much as you like George!" You shot back.
Your brother practically choked on his breakfast, a bright red blush rising quickly to his cheeks.
Just then, Drista came running into the living room. She practically jumped onto the couch right next to you, sending you lurching in the other direction.
You and Clay laughed. She's always been this energetic. It never fails to make people smile. Whether you're sad, angry, or downright depressed, Drista can always make you smile.
"Y/n!" She's clearly excited about something, almost jumping in her seat with excitement. "Are you gonna be at me softball game tonight?"
You mentally run through your schedule. "I have to study for two hours after school, but then I will definitely be able to go."
It was true. You did have to study. But it was for a History project, and your partner was Technoblade. Honestly, you were... pretty happy about that.
It's only because you've met him and because he isn't some random kid, you told yourself.
The coffee cup warmed your hands as you leaned over a textbook. Techno sat next to you, a notebook open in front of him, flipped to a clean, white page.
The greek texts and mythology books spread out on the table in front of you. Pencils and pens and other papers strewn about. You'd expect Technoblade to care about neatness but he literally could not care less.
Techno sighed, looking up from the textbook he was reading. "For the last time, Y/n: stop making fun of me for my shit organization skills."
You laughed, unable to stop yourself. "I still can't believe it! I expected you to the super organized and studious asshole who has no sense of humor."
He rolls his eyes. "I might be studious but I am not an asshole-"
"Tommy might disagree."
"You literally just met him!"
"And yet I still know I'm right."
Techno laughs and leans back in the chair. His pink hair is falling out of the half-bun he's styled it into. He sweeps the stray strands back and goes right back to taking notes. You have to force yourself to stop studying him and to go back to studying the material.
You tap his shoulder.
He looks at you intently, waiting for you to speak.
"This is a project, not a test. We don't need to be taking excessive notes. We need to have a plan first."
He considered this for a moment before blushing slightly in embarrassment. "I guess so. But don't you dare blame it on my lack of organization skills."
You smiled and shook your head. "But seriously. We have to choose a greek myth and retell it to the class."
"Which one do you want to do?" Techno took the book of greek mythology and began to flip through it, skimming for the titles.
"There are so many!" You cried. "And they're all so good! Okay- some are better than others, but still." You looked at the book as well, eyes taking in the rows and rows of text.
Hades and Persephone Pandora's Box The Three Sisters of Fate Perseus and Medusa Orpheus and Eurydice 12 Labors of Hercules Icarus's Folly Theseus and the Minotaur Narcissus and Echo Sisyphus and His Eternal Punishment The Great Trojan War
You groaned in utter frustration.
"I love history, but I am so done with this shit."
That made Technoblade chuckle. But then his demeanor changed completely. He stood up abruptly and grabbed his bag, gesturing for you to do the same. Hesitating because of your confusion, you did.
He hurriedly straightened the papers before dragging you out of the library.
"Techno! Where are you taking me?"
He didn't stop to look over his shoulder as he called back, "I'm late for football practice!"
You were shocked. "B-but the project!"
"That isn't due for another two weeks! We have loads of time." At this point, he had let go of your wrist, but you found yourself continuing to sprint behind him as you raced to the field.
A couple of times, you guys raced into a crowd of people, awkwardly excusing yourself and offering haste apologies as you continued to run where you needed to go.
After a good two minutes of sprinting, you burst through the heavy doors onto the football field. Techno gradually stopped and you followed suit.
Unlike you, he wasn't really panting at all.
"Thanks for running all the way here, and sorry for messing up the study session."
You took a moment to catch your breath before responding. "It's totally cool."
The metal bleachers caught your eye and you got an idea.
"Actually... I might study up there," you pointed to them. "And maybe watch some of practice too."
Technoblade looked at you curiously. He nodded before walking with you to the bleachers. He set his stuff down on the lowest metal step before turning around to run onto the field to join the rest of his team.
You sat down, popped in your earbuds and started brainstorming ideas, totally oblivious to the sports practice that was going on in the background.
(techno's pov)
Technoblade Minecraft threw a perfect pass to his brother Wilbur, whooping in celebration when it was flawlessly caught and ran into the end zone.
A perfect play. If the team continued to perform like this, they'd win their next football game easily. Techno looked over to the bleachers as the team started its five-minute water break.
His eyes caught on you, hunched over a textbook. But what shocked him was the fact that you were wearing his jacket. The SBI letterman jacket he always wore on football days.
He hadn't realized you were cold. You weren't wearing a jacket before and now that he thought about it, the fall months could get cold. The chilly breeze had to make you shiver. He was honestly glad you grabbed his jacket. It was much better than you being cold.
Wilbur had noticed his brother staring at you on the bleachers. He stood at Techno's side, following his gaze.
"What's so interesting about her?"
Technoblade had enough self-control not to jump, but he had actually been startled. "Just noticed that she was cold and grabbed my jacket."
Will squinted before laughing quietly. "It appears she has. Say," his face shifted to a more pensive expression. "You should invite her to the Halloween party."
The Halloween party. Every year Jack Manifold and Niki worked together to throw an amazing party. Somehow, each party outdid the last. But the thing was, it was invite only. And it was a big deal if you were invited. Of course, being one of Niki's close friends, Techno and Wilbur were always invited.
The other thing about getting invited was you were allowed to bring a plus-one. Wilbur had brought Sally last year and would be again this year, but Techno always went alone. It would cause a big stir within the school if he finally had a plus-one, no matter how platonic it was.
Even still, he replied. "Yeah. I'll ask. She'll probably say no, though."
Wilbur shook his head in disappointment. "I know you have amazing grades, but you really can be a dumbass sometimes."
Techno rolled his eyes, not understanding, but began walking over towards you. His footsteps caught your attention and you looked up, which to his eternal surprise, made his face start to heat up.
He sat down next to you, still facing the field. "Hey stranger."
You smiled, remembering. "Hey. What brings you back here? Practice is still going on for another hour, Mr. Quarterback. Plus, you need to improve your passes to the wide receiver. He's a crucial part of your team."
He was shocked. "I had no idea you knew so much about football! You never talk about it."
You laughed, the sound like a happy melody. "I'm Clay's twin sister remember? Plus, football is a cool sport."
"Oh right." Technoblade had totally forgotten who you were related to, but he was still going to ask you.
But you could tell that he wanted to say something.
"Have you heard of Niki's and Jack's annual Halloween party?" He blurted out, as if the question desperately wanted to escape his mouth and be free.
"Yep. I have. Clay is going this year."
That was news to Techno. "He was invited?"
"Absolutely. He won't stop obsessing over it. Says it's a chance to 'show those losers who's actually the best team'." you shook your head in affectionate disappointment.
The pink-haired boy scoffed. "Yeah, right. Our team was looking really strong out there."
"True, but SMP isn't weak by any means."
But Technoblade wasn't worried. He was confident in the abilities of his team. They had been running passing drills and plays flawlessly for months and their team communication was "admirable", as Philza described it.
But he hadn't yet asked the actual question that he wanted to.
"Would you like to go to the party with me?"
There. He asked the question. The words hung in the chilly fall air. Not heavy and anxious, simply a thought being pondered.
He waited in anticipation for your answer. But thankfully, Techno didn't have to wait long.
"Yes. I'll go with you."
That was all he needed. The boy fought to keep a smile off his face as he picked up his bag and slung it on his shoulder.
"Cool. I'll text you the details so that you can prepare."
You packed up your stuff as well, getting ready to walk with him again when someone interrupted.
Tommy. The youngest brother.
"Techno. Dad wants us home," was all the blond boy said before sprinting back to Wilbur and the rest of the team,
You and Technoblade shared a quiet laugh before he picked up his pace to follow his little brother.
But then, he turned to look over his shoulder at you, still walking.
"Keep the jacket," he called back. "It looks good on you!"
Taglist: (send me an ask to be tagged) @baguettehead @paradigmax@natsueyama @itsberrydreemurstuff @absentharm @hemmosgirl1996 @bergandysam @multis-fandom-trah @just-a-stan @meimeihershey @colmathgames2 @lunarandmoon @zanth000 @ozdramaqueen @chaoticotaku @dreamerwasfound @serenitylolz
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rainxox0 · a day ago
I... honestly, I just want fluff, slice-of-life headcanons with Technoblade, if you could. Just anything so sweet that it almost makes me have diabetes, yet intimate (not in a NSFW way ofc, but rather show how much reader and him trust each other, if that makes sense)
That's all, thanks :)
I gotchu hun! ;) Thanks so much for the request! Honestly I was losing hope that anyone would be interested.
An affectionate relationship with c!Technoblade might include:
Spending the coldest nights in the tundra just enjoying each other's warmth (probably you more so, as we can agree Piglins would be blazing)
Hugs between you two are literally the warmest things everrrr
Both figuratively and literally
You two not only being lovers, but best friends
You two doing everything together, even if Techno swears that it's too dangerous, or that he can do it by himself
"No, Y/N, I don't need help farming potatoes."
"Uhhhh what if there's a horde of zombies?? Skeletons with enchanted armor and bows?? CHARGED CREEPERS?!"
It's cloudless out and it's the middle of the day
Him being lowkey (highkey) worried about you during battles, even if he tries not to show it
Like you could get a small scrape and this man would be like
You just brushing him off
The voices adoring you
Like they will n o t s h u t u p
Hey, at least they aren't advocating for murder 24/7!
Him knowing you can watch your back, even if he does get worried
Like you could leave for a week, pop back up and this man'll be like "Yoooo"
You know the saying "Technoblade never dies"? Well, you hold that saying to heart
You know he's capable, so you aren't as overbearing as you might've been if he were someone else
But you do sometimes get a tiny bit worried (see example above)
Both of you care more than you show, but you still show heaps of affection
If one of you were to lose a canon life, the other would immediately wreck havoc
The Blood God and the Blood Goddess are the best things in the Dream SMP
They're just awesome???
You 100% exploring the "new" caves together
Techno just wants to find some diamonds for you (fr tho diamonds are so much easier to find now holy shit-)
You find him some gold
Lemme tell you something
This man
LOOOOOVES seeing you in gold armor
Like call him Ares cause you're practically Aphrodite
All in all, while Techno might seem cold
He just has to warm up a little ;)
Hope you enjoyed!
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cyber-dump-171 · 2 days ago
Chapter 3: A cruel place
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The Song of the Cursed (DSMP x Reader)
← Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Chapter 4 →
Summary: After those bizarre events, you wake up in a strange room. The atmosphere feels sadder and your colleagues begin to show more signs of affection towards you.
Word count: 6.4 k.
WARNING: Cursing, mentions of death, descriptions of gore and blood.
Note: I’ve been having some problems with my works not showing up on tags, please know that chapter 2 has been published (just doesn’t show up in recent tags -_-) Anyways! In case you want to appear on the tag list, you can enter your username here. ┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈
You don’t know for how long you’ve been unconscious. The last thing you remember before falling face-first into the ground was the brutal pain that plagued your entire body, it felt as if thousands of hands plunged themselves deeply into your ribcage and began pulling on every single muscle and bone they could find, while someone else grabbed your wrist and placed it right on top of a bonfire. Maybe you’re exaggerating a bit, but that doesn’t take away the thought that at that moment, you thought you were going to die.
You had very short lucid moments, in which you remembered hearing various voices, one of them was the voice of somebody who you believe to be Connor’s, he asked if you were going to be alright and if you were ever going to wake up, sadness lingered on his tone. And then you remember another one, this time of who you believe to be Sam, asking what happened to you during the confrontation. But other than those two times, you’ve been swimming in the black abyss completely unaware as to what is happening in the world and to your comrades.
After a while, you finally begin to open your eyes, everything looking blurry at first, the whites, browns, and oranges of the room mixing with each other creating strange yet enthralling swirls and shapes. Soon they begin to adjust, the colors forming coherent shapes, but once they do, you quickly realize that you’ve been staring at the dust particles that dance in the air. It’s quite hypnotic, really, the way that the small white, sometimes gray, pieces of dust fall into a rhythmic dance with each other, and they repeat it over and over again until they fall to the floor, disappearing.
You’re snapped out of a trance when you feel that your body is completely stiff. Your eyes are drawn to the small windows and see the colors of the afternoon sky slowly mixing with the hues of the night sky. Suddenly, you realize something. The first thing is that you have a different set of clothes on. It appears to be a white nightgown, the kind that patients wear whenever they’re submitted to a hospital. And the second thing, and the most important, is that the only pain you feel is from the stiffness that your body has suffered from being asleep and unmoving. It is as if you were getting up from a nap and your muscles were sore from being placed in an uncomfortable position for a very long time. You don't feel the pain in your ribs and you no longer feel the burning sensation on your wrist. Curiosity takes over the numbness and you decide to check for any injuries, surely you still must be asleep because you heard those cracks coming from your bones and you did feel how the skin on your wrist was melting. You place your arms flat on top of the hard mattress of the bed, putting all your strength to slowly lift your body, your bones and joints letting out small pops and cracks which causes a groan to leave your mouth. After a while, you successfully managed to get into a position where you can comfortably see your torso.
You decide that you're going to start with checking your wrist first. You raise your arm upwards and you slowly lower your sleeve until it reveals your mark. In pure shock, you catch your breath for a second when you notice that the mark and your skin are completely intact, there is no sign of a burn, no redness, not even a new wound. Somewhat shaky, your hands grasp the fabric of the nightgown and pull the garment until it reveals your entire torso, there has to be an injury there. Your eyes widen and you can't believe what you are seeing, there is nothing. No bruises, no new wound, nothing.
Could it be that there’s only internal damage? One of your hands lets go of the nightgown and delicately brushes where your ribs are located, but the only sensation that you feel comes from the coldness of your hands, there is no pain. You take a deep breath, one sign that your ribs are broken is that taking a deep breath is going to be painful, but you don't feel anything. Everything is normal.
What the hell is going on? You let out a sigh and begin to practice a few breathing exercises with the intention of calming yourself down. All of this has to do with the boy who appeared in your dreams and the woman who spoke to you before you fainted. There is no way you would have felt that pain and out of nowhere your body is completely fine.
After calming yourself down, your eyes wander and examine the room you’re currently in, trying to recognize if you’re somewhere familiar. It’s quite a large room, rows of wire beds with stained gray mattresses and white blankets line the cream-colored walls which are somewhat faded and chipped, several papers are hanging on the walls, some have words and phrases that you cannot read and others seem to be crude drawings made by children. It seems that this place, at some point, is either a shelter of sorts or a small hospital.
However, the room is not familiar to you, it’s not one of the medical tents that you used to work on since they were way smaller and it was strictly forbidden to place or hang anything on the walls since the material could rip easily. And it can’t be the hospital in the kingdom, since the walls are painted in a deep navy blue and they would always be filled to the brim with various patients and would have nurses running up and down the small corridors. So, you’re still in the village. Wait. Suddenly, panic once again sets in, and your eyes quickly scan each of the beds. Why are you alone? Shouldn’t there be at least another soldier or person occupying one of the beds? You’re the only one in the room and from what you can remember, the villagers that were once dead rose from the ground at the command of the man with the strange mask. Those things didn't look weak, they were fast and their jaws could rip a good chunk out of someone's neck. At least a couple of younger less trained knights must have gotten hurt from this situation.
The worst thoughts began to invade your mind, what if you were taken as a hostage? Is somebody going to torture you? No, that’s stupid, they would’ve tied you down. What’s going to happen to Crumbs? What about Connor, Alyssa, and Ponk? Hell, you’re even worried about Sam.
Before your thoughts can delve deeper into the spiral of madness, somebody opens the door of the cabin. In a panic, you quickly revert to your original position and shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You hear light footsteps tread the entire cabin. They run up and down the place, the person moves objects and bottles while whispering what seems to be a list of materials. You don't want to open your eyes, your brain is still on high alert about the suspicious empty cabin and it would be a better idea to open your eyes when you’ve already established that you can easily move and defend yourself. The person is still in the room, their murmurs are starting to become more frustrated, it sounds as if the person is scolding themselves.
"W-what did Miss Alyssa say? Umm, I think it was bandages, alcohol, water, and ... AGH! Stupid brain, why don’t you work?!", you vaguely recognize the person's voice. It sounds like the boy that came out of the church, screaming that the man was going to kill you.
Out of curiosity, you slowly open your eyes and quickly look over to one of the beds, where the strange boy stands, his hands buried deep in his hair as he begins to pull at it in pure frustration. He keeps muttering about his stupid memory and repeats the list over and over again in hopes of remembering the forgotten object. He lets out a sigh, pulls one of his hands out of his hair, makes a fist, and angles it to the side of his head. This idiot.
"Don't even think about hitting yourself on the head", you are a bit surprised by how your voice sounds, hoarse and scratchy. Your sudden presence takes the boy by complete surprise, causing a gasp to come out of his mouth. He notices it almost immediately, slapping a hand across his mouth, and you watch as his cheeks turn bright red.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were awake!”, he quickly apologizes, his hand still on top of his mouth. You let out a sigh before waving your hand up and down, a signal for him to not worry about it. “How much time has passed since I was unconscious?”
You attempt to get into a sitting position, but it’s a bit difficult since your body is still very stiff. The boy notices what you are doing and quickly runs to your side, though he stumbles mid-way and almost falls face-first into the floor, and he helps you get into a comfortable position. Once settled, you let out a sigh and turn your head towards the boy, who now has a small smile, his cheeks are still red. "Don't worry, it's only been a couple of hours. But, if I may say something... I didn't know you had such cool powers!", the boy says excitedly, the smile on his face widening.
Powers? The only "powers" that you have are very weak incantations from your grimoire that aren't even used in combat, only to heal and temporarily close wounds so that you can get someone in a safer place for proper care. You give a quizzical look to the boy, feeling absolutely confused about his statement. You ask him to explain and he eagerly tells you about what happened. The levitation, the purple glow, the slaying of the creatures and the man, etcetera.
In another time with a different context, you would've smiled and found adorable the excitement of the boy as he tells you a story about magical beings fighting dangerous creatures, however, knowing the dreams you've had, the voices you've heard and the fact that you can’t remember anything after you blacked out because of the pain, you're absolutely terrified. Something or someone took over your body, something made you kill. Sure, those creatures that you killed most likely would’ve eaten you if they saw the chance, but, the man with the owl mask, you could’ve kept him alive and questioned his intentions. But that option is long gone.
You no longer pay attention to the boy's story. Thousands of questions swim inside your head as to who or what could’ve possessed your body, but it becomes worse when you think about your friends and comrades. What the hell will they think of you after seeing that? Connor and Sam especially, since they know your abilities very well, you aren’t a person trained in combat much less in magic, and so, out of nowhere, have powers that are strong enough to easily kill several strong enemies... You fear what they will think of you, what they will do to you.
“Are you alright?”, the voice of the boy snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes meet his worried face. “Would you like me to go get Miss Alyssa? I’m sure she cou-”
“No! It’s fine! I just woke up so my brain might be a bit foggy”, you lie, hoping that the boy could change the subject. He seems to be a bit startled by your sudden response, but he quickly nods, and the smile once again returns to his face. “Anyways, what’s your name? I don’t think I ever got it.”
“Oh! My name is Ranboo, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” you introduce yourself and extend a hand to the boy, who quickly takes it and gives a small shake back. The both of you talk for a little bit, he mostly asks if you’re alright and if he should go get Alyssa’s help, which you quickly deny and keep reassuring him that you’re okay, just tired. Eventually, the two of you start talking about each other, but you’re sadly interrupted by the door of the cabin opening.
“Ranboo? Alyssa is asking if you got everything- OH THANK THE GODS YOU’RE AWAKE!” Before you can even say a word to Connor, he bolts towards you and engulfs you in a bone-crushing hug. You hurriedly tap him on the shoulder, your breath being cut short because of the pressure, and Connor quickly releases you, an apologetic look plagues his face. You simply giggle in response.
“Sorry, I just got a bit excited to see you awake”, he laughs in response, you noticed that one of his hands is gently gripping yours. When did he do that? Ranboo clears his throat, drawing the attention of Connor who quickly composes himself, though he still holds your hand. “Alyssa is asking if you managed to find the items.”
“I did! Well, almost, I forgot the last one”, the boy chuckles in response, his hand sheepishly scratching the back of his head. Connor smiles in response, repeating the list and discovering that the last object being sheets. Ranboo thanks him and quickly runs towards a table where some bottles and a pack of bandages sit on top of it. He crouches and after moving around some things, he stands up with a pile of white sheets stacked neatly on top of his arms. He gathers all of the objects and excuses himself, bidding you farewell, and exits the cabin.
After the quick exit from the boy, you and Connor sit silently, a very awkward air lingering between the two of you. You look down at your lap, noticing that Connor had begun to gently rub his thumb on the back of your hand. You feel your face getting hotter and a small smile appears, it’s a sweet gesture that manages to calm your negative thoughts for a bit, however, you still find yourself a little nervous about how Connor thinks of you after seeing that scene. He lets out a deep and long sigh,  his gentle voice reaches your ears, causing you to lift your head up.
“So, could you tell me what happened to you? Forgive me for being so forward, it's just...”, he softly says, his expression is filled with worry and sadness.
You don’t have the guts to hide what happened to him, he’s your only friend, and perhaps telling him everything that has happened can alleviate the weight of the situation. Still, your hands shake a little bit and an uncomfortable feeling sits at the bottom of your belly. You’re terrified, you don’t know how he’ll react. But you move forward, taking a deep breath, collecting your thoughts in the process, and you tell Connor everything. The boy who gave you the warning in your dreams, the woman who spoke to you before your bones split in two, and the burning sensation on your mark on your wrist. You notice that Connor does not change his expression while you speak, the movement of his thumb rubbing on your hand still present, it’s soft and gentle. When you finish speaking, you let out a sigh of relief.
"You think I'm crazy, right?", you add with a dry chuckle, your nervousness gets worse when you notice that Connor is no longer looking at your face, but instead at your hands. But it takes you by surprise when the brunette lets out a little laugh. “Gods (Y/N), with everything that I’ve seen today, you would think that I am the crazy one”, he joyfully responds, his laugh becoming a bit louder. The feeling of nervousness disappearing as you laugh alongside the blue-eyed man. “Don’t worry, I believe you. In fact, with everything I’ve learned from history books, you’re not the only person that has received those types of premonitions and sudden powers.”
He’s right. Many history books claim that very few living beings have been able to speak to gods or get “blessings” from them. The problem that arises from your situation, is that now to find out why the hell you have been chosen, however, you won’t have time today and maybe not in the following days. But having been able to tell Connor what happened took a huge weight off your shoulders. You still have a very trusted friend by your side.
"Hey, do you think you can walk? I'm not saying this as an insult, I just think you should see what we found inside the church", Coonor interrupts. You think you’d capable of walking, it might take a little bit of time to get back to normal speed. You nod to Connor and he quickly gets up to help you, his hands gently grasp your arms, you feel like he's afraid of hurting you.
You manage to stand on both feet, though your legs wobble a bit every time you try to take a step. Connor quickly points to your bedside table, noticing that your clothes are neatly folded, you smile and ask him to give you a summary of what happened while you change. You notice that Connor’s pale expression turns red as he quickly turns his back on you, clearing his throat before speaking. "Are you sure you don't want me to leave the room?", he asks. "Don't worry Connor, it's not the first time you've seen me almost naked."
He stutters an incoherent response and you can’t help but giggle a bit, since when is he this shy? Either way, you tell him to start speaking as you slowly begin to change.
After you fell unconscious from the battle, Alyssa and a group of soldiers took you back to the village’s infirmary. Sam decided to divide the knights into two groups, the first and the largest one would be in charge of looking out for any survivors, while the second would search inside the church. The commander ordered Ponk to take Ranboo somewhere safe, so that he could check for any injuries and obtain the boy's testimony about the situation. Connor and Sam joined the second group and entered the church where they were greeted by a gruesome and brutal scene. Due to the number of bodies that were inside of the place, it was concluded that at least three-quarters of the villagers that inhabited the town met their brutal end there. They noticed that the walls of the church were covered in the same red vines that the creatures possessed. However, what really caught their attention was a very strange object that sat on top of the church’s altar, which was what Connor wanted to show you.
Ponk came out with bad news. Ranboo doesn't remember much of what happened before the night of the massacre. He only remembers being woken up by the screams of the villagers, in a panic after seeing the bloodshed, he hid under a table, and he was then taken from the house to the church by the man. He remembers that once the monsters killed the rest of the villagers who were still alive, the man tied him to one of the pews and began to tell him that he was a key piece in awakening his "dear master". He spent the whole night like this, saying strange words and yelling at the monsters not to leave anyone alive. When morning came and the caravan of knights reached the village, the man became distracted and Ranboo escaped and the rest of the events played out as you know them.
Once you get your clothes on, you ask Connor if he knows where Ranboo came from. From the looks of the boy, he’s definitely a hybrid of some sort and because of his young age, many hybrids prefer to stay with either their parents or somebody that will keep them safe, so it’s strange to see him completely alone in the village. He responds that according to Alyssa, Ranboo had been brought in with another group of survivors by a man she called Mr. Winston, a priest and appointed leader of the small community. Although Alyssa tried to ask the man as to where he found the survivors, Mr. Winston avoided the question, replying that they should attend to the injured as quickly as possible, and then slipped out of the room.
“Well, we must hurry before the sun goes down”, you say as Connor turns around. Both of you exit the cabin, Connor staying close to your side as you walk to the church.
┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈
You were expecting this. As you near the tall white building, many of the knights on the way give you strange looks, some of them are surprised, others are scared, some even avoided seeing your gaze, and thankfully, a lot of them remained neutral and even greeted you. Connor quickly realizes that you are somewhat uncomfortable by all the stares and decides to whisper some words of encouragement, which puts a smile on your face. You thank him and the two of you continue walking.
Suddenly, you feel the stare of somebody. Thinking that it’s one of the knights, you decide to ignore them and continue walking. Connor seems to notice the stare and when he turns around to see, he lets out a loud laugh. "It’s Ranboo, he keeps looking at you," he says and you end up turning around.
Behind one of the houses is the boy, who seems to be hiding from you. Instead of seeing his happy smile, a sad look paints his features. You wonder as to what exactly happened, but instead, you raise one of your hands and wave at him, which seems to catch him by surprise as his cheeks turn red again. Even so, he returns the greeting with a small smile and disappears quickly when he runs behind some houses.
As you near the building, you notice the rows of bodies covered by white sheets in front of the entrance. Some of them are put in pairs or more while others are alone, there are so many bodies that it becomes incredibly difficult to count each of them from a distance. This morbid scene brings back so many disgusting and gruesome memories that you thought you had completely forgotten, of how cruel and unforgiving the world can be even to the most innocent of creatures.
Your thoughts are interrupted when you can hear behind you a pair of very loud and heavy footsteps coming towards you. Turning around, you see that Sam is quickly approaching you, a frown etched on his features and his eyes showing nothing else but determination. You know that damn stare, he’s going to interrogate you until you can no longer speak. But before the commander can even utter a word, you’re saved by an angel who quickly envelops you in a hug.
“(Y/N)! You’re awake! Thank the gods, you don’t know the scare you gave me when you passed out!”, Alyssa exclaims, a huge smile decorating her features. She buries her head on your shoulder, tightening her hug as she begins to ramble incoherent sentences, most of them telling you that she was worried and such. You hug her back, letting out a sigh of relief.
“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to worry any of you”, you admit. Alyssa lets go of you and because of the proximity, you notice the dried tears that linger on her cheeks. You can’t even imagine how she must feel at the moment, having been the one to witness close friends and family perish in such a brutal way.
“I’m also glad you’re awake, (Y/N)”, you’re startled by the sudden voice of Sam coming from behind you. But what surprises you even more, is the softer tone that he uses rather than a reprimanding one.
You thank everyone for their concerns and Alyssa asks how you are feeling. You tell her that you’re fine and that you can walk without any problems, which makes her let out a sigh of relief. Connor gently pulls on your sleeve, his eyes signaling to the church. You excuse yourself from Alyssa telling her that you’ll meet after you get done inside and quickly walk away with Connor, Sam following closely behind.
“Why is he dragging you? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Sam asks, now walking beside you. “They’re fine, Sam! Besides, I want to know (Y/N)’s input on this thing!”, Connor says with a laugh while Sam simply pats your shoulder and lets out a sigh.
As soon as you take a step inside the church, a revolting smell attacks your senses, which makes you nauseous and causes you to cough. Sam nudges your arm, handing you a light green handkerchief that has a small smiley face sewn into the corner. You give him a small smile and take the handkerchief, and for a second, you could’ve sworn that his cheeks turned red. You don’t waste time covering your mouth and nose, inhaling the flowery scent from the handkerchief. As you regain composure, you examine the current state of the room.
There’s blood everywhere, pools and small puddles of it on the floor, and huge streaks of it on the walls, the red vines that Connor had previously spoken wrap themselves around the chandeliers and they cover the crystal windows. Pews and various pieces of furniture were completely destroyed, the few intact pieces that remained appeared to be either used to build barriers or acted as weapons. However, what caught your attention was the strange object that sits atop the altar.
“Is that what you wanted to show me?” you ask, slowly and cautiously approaching the altar, Connor and Sam following closely behind. “Yeah, take a look at what’s inside.”
As you get closer, you notice that the strange object has a similar shape to that of a bassinet, only this one is built out of what appears to be metal and the edge is decorated with pointy and sharp spikes. You take a look inside of it, finding a bed of hay and sitting comfortably in the middle, is an egg.
You give a quizzical look to Connor ready to punch him if this was some type of joke, but from the looks that both men give you, this isn’t a prank of sorts.
“According to the boy, this thing was already inside of the church when the man dragged him inside. We don’t know if it's from an animal or something else” Sam clarifies, never taking his eyes away from you.
From your years of exploring lands and places, you’ve come across various eggs from different creatures. However, this one is not one that you can recognize. It’s way bigger than a chicken’s egg and it can almost be the size of a fire dragon’s egg. It has a strange appearance, the egg is black and has those same red vines wrapped around it, as if it were protecting the egg.
“So, can you recognize the type of egg?” Connor asks with a hopeful tone. You shake your head. “I don’t know. The color and pattern are strange and from the size of it, it appears to be a dragon’s egg.”
“That’s impossible, dragon’s went extinct years ago. The last one was killed near Snowchester and it happened almost two hundred years ago”, Sam adds. “Though there’s a small possibility that it might be of a dragon’s, they’re known to survive for hundreds if not thousands of years by themselves. Still, it would be almost impossible for someone to steal a dragon’s egg, they would’ve been eaten the moment they stepped foot into their lair.  It’s most likely that this egg belongs to one of the creatures that attacked the village” you say, stepping away to the altar to face both men.
“Ok, what should we do with it? I propose we break it and get rid of any future troubles” Connor displays a proud smile and he even puffs out his chest, but his posture and proudness are whipped away by a chuckle coming from Sam. “I would agree with you, buddy, but the king will most likely request to see this thing, so it has to be taken back to the kingdom.”
“I’m sorry, what kind of idiot takes back an unknown egg to a place full of people? Did you even hear what (Y/N) said? It might be a dragon’s or one of those fucking things that tear out people’s necks! I would like to live a little bit longer, thank you very much” Connor bites back, his voice filled with anger and appalment. Sam simply scoffs back. “Alright, what do you want me to do? Not put in the report that goes directly to the king, that in the place where at least half of the village got murder sits a potentially dangerous egg that might be the cause of the massacre? Also, what happens if we break it? Won’t something dangerous or toxic come out of it?” Sam raises his voice, starting to get impatient with Connor.
And after that comment, chaos erupts between the two of them. Words, accusations, and angry thoughts are thrown between them, and you can’t help but be reminded of that one time when you were traveling as a kid and saw two young scholars fighting about the true meaning of the statement said by a philosopher. It was a stupid and pointless fight since the statement had no deeper meaning and yet, the two scholars were ready to rip the hairs out of each other’s heads.
Connor is yelling about how stupid it is to take an egg that might contain a dangerous creature back to a place where a majority of the people are vulnerable and weak because of the war, he also claims that Sam has become too much of a suck-up, saying that there’s no need to report everything he sees to the king. Meanwhile, Sam defends that the king will find out one way or another since they brought with them a caravan of knights in which the majority of them are curious teenagers and young adults. Even if he were to take it out of the report, one of those knights will run their mouths to somebody else and the next thing you know, everybody knows about the egg. Not to mention, that the king will punish him if he finds out that he didn’t report anything of importance.
The fight turns from an angry debate to two grown men fighting like children, throwing pathetic insults at each other, with Connor gasping dramatically and Sam biting his tongue. You let out a sigh as a headache begins to appear on your head, you drift your eyes away from the fight, and at the entrance of the church, in which hiding behind one of the corners, is once again Ranboo. He quickly notices your stare and tilts his head. You let out a shrug and signal him to run along, you don’t want the boy to keep seeing more gruesome imagery. He gives you a smile before disappearing from your sight. And at this point, you’ve had enough, they’re going to kill each other and give you a migraine in the process.
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” your voice echoes throughout the walls of the church, making both men stop their antics. They quickly look down to the ground, mumbling apologies. “Both of you have good points but this fight is ridiculous. I agree with Sam that the king needs to know about this situation, it’s something that managed to kill an entire village, and with the peace treaty soon approaching, they need to be on high alert. But, I also agree with Connor that the egg shouldn’t be taken to a place where there are many vulnerable people.”
“What should we do then?”, Connor asks as he and Sam lift their heads, their eyes looking right at you. “The best solution, for now, is to leave the egg here and have a small group of knights guard it while we find a better and more isolated place to keep it” Sam offers.
That is the best option at the moment. With what has happened in the village and not knowing what lies inside the egg, it’s better to keep it here. Besides, if something were to come out of the egg, as morbid and cruel as it sounds, it’s better to sacrifice a few than to cause a complete blood bath.
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You force both men to apologize to each other, both of them muttering an incoherent apology, not daring to look at each other. You forgot how stubborn both of them are. You exit the church, leaving Sam behind to organize the group that will guard the egg, and Connor excuses himself for a bathroom break. As you step outside into the cold evening, you’re greeted with a calm yet depressing atmosphere. Many knights run around the village, some carry small crates and baskets while others chat about random topics, bored out of their minds. And yet, in front of the rows of covered bodies, sits Alyssa, a grim expression plaguing her delicate features. You feel horrible for the young woman, it must be heartbreaking and horrible to witness the people that you once loved and considered as a family, perish to cruel creatures that just want to satiate their hunger. You silently approach her, sitting beside her. Your presence seems to snap her out of her thoughts, as she quickly turns to face you.
“Oh! Hello again, (Y/N)” you greet her back and give her a small smile in return. Both of you sit in complete silence, letting the quiet chatter of the knights, the singing of the crickets, and the warm wind comfort the both of you. You perk up as you hear sniffling coming beside you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying at a moment like this.”
You don’t let her speak any further as you hug Alyssa, which causes her to completely break down as she begins to sob. In all of the years you’ve walked on this earth, you’ve lost many people that you held dear and close to your heart. It hurt so much to lose them, to let them go, it felt as if a sword would pierce through your heart over and over again until you could no longer shed a tear and you were left feeling completely numb. But, the big difference between your’s and Alyssa’s situation, is that you managed to make their last moments happy and comfortable, you managed to say your last goodbye to them. Alyssa couldn’t say that last goodbye to her loved ones, when she left to go get help, all of those villagers were screaming and begging for their lives to be spared. You simply cradle the blonde in your arms, letting her spill her emotions out. You don’t talk, you don’t tell her to talk, you just let her cry. She’ll talk when she wants to. Everybody needs comfort, she should never apologize because she’s suffering.
After a while, her cries quiet down until the only thing you can hear are her sniffles. She gets out from your arms, sitting next to you again. She tries to wipe away her tears using her hands but you quickly stop her, handing her the handkerchief that Sam gave you. She quietly thanks you, using the piece of fabric to clean her tears.
“Don’t apologize for crying. Grieve as much as you wish, there’s no need to feel shame” you add, the both of you once again falling into silence. You hear Alyssa let out a sigh before she speaks.
“W-we can’t find the body of Mr. Wisnton. It’s the only one that’s missing” her voice breaks, tears spilling once more. You place a hand on her back, rubbing gently in hopes of calming her down. “Ranboo and I are the only survivors. The knights found thirty-nine bodies, but Mr. Winston-”
“It’s alright, you don’t need to finish that sentence” you keep comforting her. Your head lifts up and once again, you find Ranboo standing at the side of the church, a sad expression decorating his face. You smile at him and extend your hand, beckoning him to come over, to which he obeys.
As Ranboo crouches in front of Alyssa, you notice that his eyes also have tears on them. His lip trembles as Alyssa lifts her face up and looks at him. “I-I-I’m so s-s-sorry, Miss” she doesn’t let him finish as she hugs him tightly. “Don’t apologize, dear.”
The boy breaks down, his sobs becoming louder as Alyssa also starts to cry once more. She lets go of the boy who quickly jumps forward and finds comfort in your arms, as you hug him tightly. As the two of them shed tears and let their frustrated emotions out, you simply lift your head up and watch as thousands of small white dots light up the blue night sky. And it is in that moment, that you feel as if you are sitting outside of the medical tent for the first time. Your hands are stained with blood and there are traces of dried tears on your face. It was the first time you lost a patient, it was a brutal and painful process that left you emotionally drained. And it was there where you remembered a phrase that an old friend used to say a lot when he was still alive.
The world is a cruel place, where the weak are crushed by the strong, where good deeds are received with cruel treatments. I think the famous philosophers got confused. Earth isn’t the path to heaven or hell. Earth is that hell.
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Tag list:
@beeissdead @vaxiwastaken @angelicadiabolus @ars0nb1tch​ @aceilnorthebeloved @ghostly​
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artgotbored · 2 days ago
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reading through the eyes of a battle-weary warrior coined “nomad,” you have seen your share of bloodshed and would rather gamble or drink than ruminate about the horrors of warfare. however, when a familiar face from your past asks for a favor from you, you begrudgingly agree. swinging your axe at a man's head is the last thing you want to do, but what choice do you have?
as you refuse to accept what you are at heart, you will quickly find yourself amidst a war you see no meaning to, all while you fight for the chance to start life again — away from the bloodshed and your violent ways.
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PAIRING: technoblade x reader
GENRE: angst / hurt/comfort / fluff
WARNINGS: not canon compliant (to a degree) / slow build / slow burn / tension / canonical character death / canon-typical violence / graphic descriptions / etc.
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© 2021 artgotbored | all rights reserved. do not repost or modify in any way, shape, or form.
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helliontherapscallion · 6 months ago
Philza: Have you guys seen (y/n) and Tommy? They still have chores to do
Techno: No, haven’t seen them since the storm started
Wilbur: Since the sto- (Y/N) NO!
Meanwhile, creeper hybrid!(y/n) standing in the middle of a thunderstorm with an iron shovel raised high: STRIKE ME DOWN ZEUS, YOU DON’T HAVE THE BALLS
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