Chapter 1: Rules
Chapter Text
Rules for submitting a request:
First and foremost, I withhold the right to procrastinate a fic for thirty billion years, as my Aut-DHD runs wild
Please submit requests either in the comments, or on my tumblr, which will appear within a day or so.
I mainly want to write /reader or /OC fics, but if there's a pairing you really want, I can give it a try.
Note: I never use Y/N for my insert-fics, if there's a specific name you want, include it in your request, but otherwise I will either write it without a name, or use one of my own. I may also re-use certain names and IGN tags.
I will write romantic and platonic relationships for almost everyone on the server, although there are some I don't know as well and might be a little ooc, I am open to writing smut for the adults on the server, nothing for minors unless it's aged up, and nothing too heavy (rape/no-consent/sadism). I haven't really explored smut before, so it won't be my best work to begin with, but I'll get there eventually.
When submitting a request make sure to have:
- relationships within, and whether its platonic or romantic
- universe the fic is set in (DSMP, Origins, IRL)
- any specific things you want to happen within the fic, which can be smut, having a picnic, Reader having a panic-attack and so on
- any side relationships, backgrounds or interactions you want
- desired name of the reader, sex and gender. (If you don't request this, I'll automatically use they/them pronouns and attempt to avoid describing their person.
If there's anything I've missed, please let me know (this is my first time doing this sort of thing.)
And note: I will still write fics for Wilbur, but only for the character, not the real guy, as I don't condone abuse.
Chapter 2: Technoblade/Reader (fluff and comfort)
Summary:
Plus-size and insecure Reader attend their first meet and greet with their boyfriend Technoblade.
It doesn't go quite as well as they hoped.TW: fat-shaming
Chapter Text
“You okay?”
The man next to you nodded slightly, eyes softening as the pair of you linked gazes.
You could hardly believe it’d been 6 months since you’d made it official, 4 since you’d revealed to the public that you were dating The Technoblade, PvP master, potato farmer extraordinaire.
These last 6 months had been the best of your life.
You met him originally through the DSMP, being a childhood friend of Dream’s, who he invited onto the server for the purpose of creating pure chaos.
Canonically, you were a deity, rather like XD, although more involved in daily life and less obsessed with George.
You had fashioned yourself rather as the Loki of the SMP - causing mischief, playing pranks, occasionally stabbing people when you felt like it. It had been on one of these pranks you’d come across the other player - you’d been exploring, trying to grind for various materials when you’d come across his Tundra Base. The interaction that followed was one of the most replayed clips that you’d ever had - it had arguably been the one that had brought you to the place you were today. In more than one way.
“And what would a mischief god be doing outside my base with TNT?”
You froze, turning slowly to face the Piglin Hybrid, TNT held in your hotbar.
“Uhhh, redecorating?”
The man chuckled, “Sure. Give me one reason not to kill you now.”
Your mind had raced - unlike XD, you were not immortal, having temporarily given up that status in return for being able to travel the SMP without the whole ‘glowy god-thing’. If the man killed you, you’d be unable to return to SMP in corporal form, losing everything you’d created.
“Uhhhhhh.”
Chat were going crazy.
Run. Run! FACE THE BLADE!! STAB HIM!!!
“Ummmmm…” you squeaked as a familiar blade appeared in the pig’s hand.
“Wait! No! If you let me go, I’ll… give you this!”
With that, you tossed nearly an entire stack of potatoes you’d collected at the Piglin’s feet.
Slowly, he walked forwards, picking them up.
He remained silent.
“... and this?”
This time he moved slightly faster, picking up the 28 gold ingots you’d dropped.
Still not saying a word, he looked up at you, meeting your eyes, before nodding once and walking off.
Standing still, you didn’t speak for a full minute.
Then…
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT CHAT!”
It had taken Chat approximately 2 minutes to come up with a name.
“Sword Duo? Huh, that actually fits, Chat. And… Bribery Duo? Come on guys, one teeny tiny case of bribery doesn’t define a dynamic.”
A few days later, when you stumbled upon Techno grinding for wither skulls, you gave up protesting the second name. Probably something to do with the stack of gapples now in your inventory.
“Kat? Kitty?”
“Hmm?” you startled out of your thoughts at the sound of your IGN - well, the abbreviation of it at least. Your full name was Katana, after the sword. Kat was something you allowed only your closest friends to call you (which a canonised Tommy had found out rather unpleasantly). And Prime-help anyone other than Tech who called you Kitty. (Well, other than Ranboo - the teen had once called you it on stream, and you’d been too busy aww-ing to correct him. Techno still teased you about it)
“Question.”
Oh right. You’d somehow managed to forget you were sitting in front of an audience, having a meet and greet with maybe fifty people.
“Shit, sorry guys. Zoned out there. Uhh, question?”
You could tell your OG’s from the general fan base by their reaction - your chat knew how easily you zoned out of stuff, needing direct interaction to stay focused.
A girl was standing up in the audience.
“Don’t worry!” she said, “I’d be distracted with all these guys around me as well.”
She giggled as she said this, and you immediately feel your gut sink and your smile tighten.
It was probably an innocent mistake by an overexcited fan, but comments like that always made you feel weird.
Fingers pressed lightly onto your palm, and you squeezed Techno’s hand back in silent support.
“Yeah,” you joked back, “there’s a lot of eye-candy around here. But there’s only one I’m interested in.”
You turned to stare into Techno’s eyes, leaning in, before… leaning around him and yelling
“I’m looking at you Niki!”
You finished with an exaggerated wink at the audience, heart lifting as the mood lightened back to the silly goofy mood of before.
Techno slapped his hand over his heart, “I thought we had something!”
“Yeah well - “
A tinkling laugh from the audience,
“It's okay Tech! You’ve got a perfect replacement down here!”
Aaaand mood gone. Wonderful.
On your other side, you could feel Ranboo begin to tense up slightly, sensing the mood - you knew from experience how much the teen hated any kind of conflict, especially given his anxiety.
Up and down the table people were beginning to shift uneasily, not liking the tension in the air. Techno’s grip on your wrist had tightened and you could feel how uncomfortable the situation was making him.
“Well, uh, did you have a question then?” you ask, faking a smile,
“Of course!” she beamed, “It’s about you and Dream, actually, about how you became friends and stuff.”
You relax slightly - this is something you could talk about.
“Oh, yeah. Well, we went to the same school as kids - I moved around a lot as a kid, which my OG’s will know is the reason my accent is so weird - but the longest I ever settled was three years in Florida, where I met Dream. We lost contact when I moved again, but reconnected a few years back.”
“Could I ask another one?”
No, you really couldn’t. In fact, everyone would be a lot happier if you sat down and shut up.
“Yeah sure.”
“Have you ever considered Dream romantically?”
And we were stopping that right there.
“No.” you said shortly, “Thank you for your question. Next?”
“Pretty defensive there, huh?”
Someone take the mic, please.
“Hey, that's uncalled for. I don’t know what exactly you’re insinuating here, but this is meant to be a meet and greet, not an interview. If you’d like to sit down, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it.”
As Dream sat back down you mouthed ‘thank you’ at the smiley mask. He nodded slightly, and a moment later a text popped up on your phone.
Suck-it-Green-Boy: No problem. She was being a bitch
You sent back a shocked face emoji, and turned back to the crowd, where the girl had sat down, face flushing.
Good.
Pulling a smile back up, you leaned back, letting the others take the next few questions.
Seeing your phone beep again, you looked back down at it
Honk-boy: Hey u ok?
Better-Blade: yh im fine
People be like that
Honk-boy: u sure?
I can go hit her or something
You giggle under your breath, showing Techno the screen when he looks over.
Behind his glasses you see him roll his eyes, but he reclaims the hand he was holding earlier, leaving you to type one handed.
Better-Blade: karly, u r very cute and protective, pls dont go hit a fan
Twitter will hate u
Plus ur too nice
Honk-Boy: mmkay
If u say so
But tell me and ill..
Look really cross at her
Until she cries
Or get subpoena to hit her
*snapnap
**SAPNAP
Better-Blade: L
Honk-Boy: DONT L ME
UR SO MEAN
Better-Blade: SUCK IT GOOSE BOY
Honk-Boy: IM NOT A GOOSE!!!
Better-Blade: Then why do u HONK!
Honk-Boy: ITS FOR THE BIT
Better-Blade: Sure honk boy
“I’ve got a question for Kitty-Kat over there. How -”
“What did you call them?”
The hall went silent as Techno’s monotone voice filled the hall.
The man in the crowd smirked, “Kitty-Kat. Cause I bet her kitty’s as fine as the rest of -”
“Get him out. Now.”
Working efficiently, the man was immediately surrounded by security guards,
“Hey! Not cool man!” the man yelled, “don’t know how a guy like you ever pulled a chick, fucking gamer HEY IM TALKING TO YOU BITCH, DON’T FUCKING IGNORE ME, YOU FAT, UGLY SLU-”
Tears brimming your eyes, you push your chair back, running as fast as you can backstage, away from the prying eyes, and the yells of your friends and the cruel, ugly words spilling out of the man’s mouth.
You run, barely aware of feet coming after you, until you finally find a door that leads outside.
Gasping, you suck deep breaths down, hearing those words replay around your mind.
Fat, ugly, slut.
You knew you weren’t conventionally pretty - it had been something you’d accepted about yourself for years. You didn’t have the perfect hourglass shape, your skin wasn’t flawless, your features weren’t perfectly symmetrical.
You weren’t a Barbie.
Your stomach was soft -
Nights spent with Tech’s head cushioned on your stomach, running your fingers through his hair -
Your thighs rubbed together at the top -
“Thick thighs save lives, darling.”
“Alex! My thighs aren’t saving anyone’s lives”
“... the bigger your thighs, the more kittens you can hold.”
“You’re a dumbass.”
“Your dumbass.”
“...My dumbass.” -
You had bad hair days, and terrible ones -
“Why don’t you want to go?”
“My hair looks terrible! I can’t - I’m too tired to wash it, but it looks so bad and it’s making me feel gross and I’m so-”
“Come on, bathroom time.”
“What?”
“I’m going to wash your hair. You’re too tired, so I'll do it for you.”
“...thanks Tech.”
“You’re welcome darling.” -
And the day had just been stressful and long and that stupid girl had put you on edge with her assumptions, and then that man dared to insult Techno, and it hurt .
You hurt.
All over.
“Darling?”
“Alex?”
“Yeah it's me. You.. you okay? Shit, sorry that's a dumb question. How can I make you okay?”
And that was why you loved your boyfriend.
You lifted your arms, and that was enough for the man to sit beside you, pulling you carefully onto his lap.
You remembered when you’d first moved in with him, and how touchy he’d been - it had startled you, this monotonic man, being so freely affectionate. Something you’d learnt about Techno in the few months you’d been together, that was while he sucked at talking about emotions, he was everything when it came to physical contact.
He couldn’t for the life of him express his feelings in words, and yet a simple touch could explain more than any amount of therapy.
You remembered being worried, the first time he’d pulled you onto his lap, the pair of you watching a movie, and you’d gone to sit down, and he’d pulled you onto him.
You’d sat there, stiff and awkward, until he’d asked you what was wrong.
“I don’t want to squish you. I’m - “
“Nothing compared to my brothers. You haven’t actively tried to elbow me in the throat yet. Is it uncomfortable for you?”
“No, I’m just… you’ll tell me if I get too heavy?”
“Sure darling, now relax.”
You were far past embarrassment now, burying your face in Techno’s chest, slowly relaxing as the taller man stroked your hair, gently carding his fingers through it.
Techno didn’t speak again until you’d fully melted into him, tears slowing, breaths even.
“Better?”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, not quite ready yet to move.
“You know that jackass was wrong, right?”
“Yeah. It’s just… it’s been a long day.”
He laughed, only slightly bitterly, “Yeah it has, hasn’t it? I always knew I hated people for a reason. We don’t have to do another of those if you don’t want - we can just hide backstage from the crowds if you’d like.”
I tilt my head back to look at him, looking straight through those gorgeous blue eyes and into the beautiful soul beneath.
“I’ll be alright to head out later, I think, but I don’t want to do another small meet and greet. It’s too… personal, in there. And thank you, for…” I chuckle, “Everything really.”
“Anytime darling. You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Anything?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eyes, “Even give up potato farming?”
“Hey, hey, let’s not go too far there. Potato farming is a serious matter.” he replied, still holding you close.
“I love you.”
Techno smiled at you, his eyes crinkling adorably, “I love you too, darling. Now come on, let’s find some tissues and water, and I’m pretty sure I saw some cake back here.”
“As long as it isn’t made by Ranboo,” you replied, letting him help you up onto your feet and guide you down a corridor, his arm around your waist.
“I still can’t believe you actually ate that thing. Or that you’re still alive.”
“He was giving me puppy-eyes-!”
There would be repercussions for this, no doubt, but you knew that Techno would have your back, no matter what. You could face anything with him at your side. And so you walked on into the future, with your past and present at your side.
Chapter 3: Technoblade/Reader IRL fluff, streaming and getting together
Summary:
based on this request:
oc!character/Technoblade
ok so his name is Phoenix but online it is Croix. He is a Mexican man from California and a Minecraft YouTuber friends with the dt and techno mostly. Croix is like a vampire girl persona while he is more of a chill punk guy. he has a humor that doesn't really stop and he will joke about anything. Him and Techno live together and have been kinda dating for awhile but it has mostly been an unsaid thing. I don't really care about the scenario it could be smut or whatever but if it could be in 2020 and just have them bonding in some way or in an actual relationship id like that maybe them streaming on the smp
Notes:
I... did far too much for this
Whoops
I wrote like 2k for this, decided I hated it, and rewrote the entire thing, coming up to a wordcount of 5.2k
I definitely ran away a little with this prompt, I hope it fufills what you wanted it to be!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Alex? I’m home! I bring offerings of food!”
Phoenix’s voice rang through the house as he shoved the front door open, using his hip to push it shut behind him. There was no response as he continued through the house, kicking his shoes off at the door and padding up the stairs in his socks.
“Techno?” he called softly through his roommates door, not using his actual name in case he was streaming, “I have dinner, if you want it.”
There was shuffling from inside the room, and a muffled voice from within, before the door swung open, Alex leaning on the doorframe in a way that shouldn’t have made Phoenix's heart flutter.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m just finishing up here and I’ll be down in a minute. Thanks for getting food.”
“Well it’s not like you’d remember to feed yourself,” teased Phoenix, “You’d starve without me.”
“You just don’t understand the Minecraft grind,” deadpanned the man, “One day you might be on the same level of epic-ness as me.”
Phoenix rolled his eyes, “Sure cariño, whatever you say. Say hi to Phil for me.”
“Yup, will do.” replied his roommate, and then the door was shut again, leaving Phoenix alone on the landing. Heading back down the stairs, he grabbed a couple of plates, the bag of take-out, and flopped onto the couch, flipping idly through their shared Netflix account, looking for something mindless to put on while they ate.
It had been a wild few days - scrap that, it had been a wild few months, if not the last year.
Phoenix had set up his channel in early 2017, the set up and camera having been an accumulated eighteenth. birthday present from assorted members of his extended family, and had started making Youtube videos and streaming on Twitch in the summer before starting his degree. Eight months into said degree, he’d dropped out of College to continue his Channel full time, recording under the name Croix, and gaining a fair following and a devoted fan base for his vampire-themed persona and consistent humour.
He’d grown steadily from there, working his way up to half a million subscribers in late 2019, continuing to stream at least every other night, and recording videos both on his own and with other creators during the daytime. It had been through these collaborations he’d met Technoblade - he’d received a DM from Skeppy, who’d he’d worked with in the past, asking if he wanted to be in a video. Phoenix, never one to turn down an opportunity, had agreed immediately, and they’d been in a voice call the next day, along with Techno himself.
Phoenix and Skeppy had always gotten on - they had very similar senses of humour, and their audiences meshed well together, but to his surprise, he got on just as well, if not better, with Techno, the pair of them exchanging contact details once the video had ended.
From there, they’d started up a friendship of sorts, recording videos, streaming together, sending each other long strings of stupid memes, to the point where Phoenix spent more time off screen with Techno than he did the majority of his other friends combined.
Moving in together had been a whirlwind and impulsive decision - they’d been friends for almost a year when Lockdown was announced, and close enough that Phoenix would class him as a best friend for half of that.
They’d been calling on the day after Lockdown was announced, Techno complaining to him that he’d only just bought an house and would be stuck in it by himself now, and Phoenix commiserating that he’d been planning to look for a place of his own, which would have to be postponed until the Lockdown was lifted, when Phoenix had blurted out a stupid idea, and Techno had suddenly gone silent in contemplation.
Which was why a week later, Phoenix found himself in a car, driving halfway across the state to go live with someone he’d only ever spoken to online, quarantined in a house during a global pandemic.
It had been quite possibly the best stupid idea of his life.
It had been awkward at first, he wasn’t going to lie about that - living in the same house was nothing like being online friends was, and neither of them had ever lived with anyone but their own family, but they made it work, figuring things out as they went.
Techno had helped him paint the spare room to be his office and recording space - the walls were a dark grey, with black bats silhouetted on the background. He’d filled the shelves with gifts he’d gotten from conventions, knickknacks he’d picked up over the years that fit his style, and rows of books, mostly dark fantasy and tacky vampire novels that he had never read but looked cool.
Within a few weeks, however, they’d found a rhythm in their new life - they’d wake up late, grab some breakfast, sometimes cooking actual food, other times shoving some toast or cereal in their mouth. The rest of the day they’d either be recording, editing, occasionally streaming, or just hanging out around the house, sometimes together, sometimes not, but they’d always try and eat dinner together at least.
It was startling how easy all those hours spent talking online had translated into spending time irl - he’d kinda expected to be on his own for most of the time - Techno spent a lot of time in his room, and he’d taken that to be a dismissal and a silent ask to be alone. However, only a few days after moving in, Techno had mentioned, only slightly awkwardly, that Phoenix was welcome in his room whenever, even when he was streaming, and he would welcome the company.
It had taken less time than he’d thought to become comfortable with the idea, and now eight months later, he could more often than not be found sprawled across Techno’s bed, scrolling through his phone while the man was fixated on his computer, usually on Minecraft.
“Ooh garlic bread.”
“Hey! Hands off my garlic bread!” Snapped Phoenix playfully, batting away Techno’s hand with no real force.
The man raised his hands in defeat, flopping down onto the couch beside him, stretching out in all his six foot four glory. It was definitely unfair how tall the man was - Phoenix wasn’t short, at just over six foot, but Techno was taller still.
While Techno settled himself, Phoenix grabbed the boxes of pasta, passing over the bits he’d picked up for his roommate, as well as begrudgingly half of the garlic bread, and then clicked on some anime that Techno had been watching. Anime wasn’t his thing at all, really, but it made Tech happy enough that he was willing to spend hours attempting to follow whatever was going on onscreen.
Techno wolfed his food down, staring avidly at the screen the entire time. Knowing the dumbass like he did, this was probably the first thing he’d eaten today, what with time blindness and the lack of hunger cues his ADHD fostered on him.
Once he’d finished, he shifted against the cushions, moving so that he was leaning against Phoenix’s side, his head propped on his chest in such a way that his glasses weren’t bent weirdly, and he could see the screen.
Phoenix let out a contented sigh at the feeling, lifting up his hand to run his hands through his boy- through his best friend’s hair, which was beginning to inch over into the ‘too long’ period of growing out your hair. Idly, he wondered whether he could convince Techno to keep it this long - it felt like silk through his fingers, and was oddly satisfying to stroke through.
As they sat there, Phoenix let himself practically melt into the cushions, mostly ignoring the show on the screen now, and focussing on the man practically on his lap.
Technoblade was… he was everything. It sounded corny, sure, but he was Phoenix’s everything. His best friend, his partner in crime, the person who’d he’d be happy to spend the rest of his days with.
He was also, potentially, his boyfriend.
Which sounded a little backwards, when he really thought about it.
Techno meant the world to him, and he would trust him with his life, and he still couldn’t find a way to ask ‘hey, are we dating? Or is this just a deep queer platonic relationship?’.
Techno had never outright stated his sexuality - Phoenix was like 90% sure he was asexual, but other than that, he’d never clarified whether he was gay, bi, straight or anything in between. In all likelihood, it probably hadn’t even occurred to him that that was something that he needed to clarify - Techno tended to assume that everyone was on the same page as him, and work from there.
But beyond that, even if the conversation ever did come up, how was he meant to ask if they were actually dating or not? Surely that was something that you should just know, right?
And what if he asked, and got it wrong? What if he was reading the entire thing wrong, and Techno would back off immediately.
And it wasn’t as if by labelling themselves they’d probably do anything they weren’t already - they spent basically their entire day together already, they cuddled on the sofa - hell, they’d even fallen asleep on the same bed more than once, waking up with Phoenix using Techno’s chest as a pillow.
He didn’t want to lose what they had. Even if it would be nice to be able to hold his hand when they went out in public.
The next hour or two passed faster than Phoenix could comprehend - it seemed like only a few minutes had passed when he looked over to his phone and saw that it was almost midnight.
He groaned, knowing that he had to be up early the next day - he was meant to be recording a modded video with Dream, Sapnap and George in the morning. Given the time zone difference between them, and the fact that they would all be streaming on the Dream SMP for about 6pm GMT, Phoenix would need to be logged onto Minecraft for just before 8am, which was 11am for the Floridians, and 4pm for George, which gave them two hours to make something YouTube-worthy.
“I better head up to bed,” he said reluctantly, “I’m filming tomorrow. You gonna stay down here for a bit?”
Techno stretched out on the couch, popping his joints with a wince before rolling upright, “Nah, I’ll head to bed now, otherwise I won’t sleep until like 6am.”
Together, they balanced containers on their arms, dumping them in the sink to be rinsed and recycled in the morning, working in the sort of synchronised domesticity that made Phoenix’s heart hurt.
The stairs seemed longer than they usually were in his tired state - half twelve really wasn’t that late, but he’d had a long day, and his legs hurt from his run earlier in the day.
Techno reached the top first, pausing at the top as Phoenix stepped up onto the landing as well.
Standing like they were, Phoenix was practically backed against the wall next to his door, Techno standing over him like the giant he was.
Being this close, Phoenix had to crane his head upwards a little to look him in the eye. His breath hitched at the look in those dark grey eyes.
He was barely breathing as Techno’s hand lifted, fingertips running up the side of his neck and resting on his jawline, essentially cradling his face.
Their faces were mere inches apart by now, close enough that if he lifted up just a bit on his tiptoes, and tilted his face upwards, their lips would touch.
Techno moved his face down slowly, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle on Phoenix’s jawline, and-
“I think I left my phone downstairs,” he blurted out, and the tension in the hallway snapped, Techno stepping back abruptly, his hand leaving Phoenix’s cheek and rubbing the back of his neck.
Phoenix didn’t make eye contact as he moved swiftly back down the stairs, claiming the offending object from where it lay discarded on the sofa.
By the time he’d returned to the landing, it was empty.
He couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.
——————
“Dream! DREAM! STOP IT! I’M ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE!”
Phoenix laughed as George screeched over the headset, Dream laughing maniacally as he chased down the Brit’s Minecraft character with a diamond sword he’d found from mining a prismarine block - they were doing a random drops mod, and so far they’d spent most of the time attacking each other instead of actually trying to beat the game.
“Hey Sap, how funny would it be if we left them and beat the dragon by ourselves?” Asked Phoenix as the screaming continued from the other two.
“Wait no!” Protested George, “It’s not my fault Dream keeps killing me!”
“Oh George!”
George shrieked again, likely a Pavlovian response to the legitimately terrifying call, and bounded away, continuing to yell at Dream.
It took another forty minutes, but eventually they did make it to the End, Dream killing the dragon with a crossbow he found coming from Endstone.
“Oh, before I forget, who’s streaming tonight?”
“Not tonight,” replied Dream, “I’ve got a manhunt video I need to edit.”
“I might log onto the server, but I’m not streaming tonight,” added Sapnap.
“I’m planning to stream with Techno,” answered Phoenix, trying to ignore the lump that was making its way up his throat at the mention of the man. He was assuming they were still going to stream, at least. “Which means I should head off soon, so I can shower and eat before the stream starts.”
They said their goodbyes quickly, all leaving the vc at the same time, leaving Phoenix alone in his room. Well, not alone - Pumpkin had claimed his bed as his own, and was currently attempting to leave fur on every square inch of fabric. He hadn’t spoken to Techno yet this morning - when he’d woken up, there had been dishes in the sink, but no person to claim them. And no Floof, either, which meant that Techno had likely taken the dog on a walk.
Stepping into the corridor, he noted that the door was slightly ajar, and through the crack he could see the computer screen glowing brightly, and hear the accompanying clicks. Any other day, he would have barged into the room like he owned it, and flopped across the bed until Techno paid him attention.
Today, he just went downstairs.
He felt marginally better after lunch and a shower, noting that the plate of food he’d shoved through Techno’s door had disappeared, as he rubbed his hair dry with a spare towel.
Phoenix wandered back into his room, shaking the last of the water droplets off like a wet dog, before he stood in front of his wardrobe, deciding what he was going to wear to stream - he was using a face-cam tonight, and wanted to look the part.
The majority of the time he wore oversized band t-shirts, black jeans and whatever accessories he had the energy to wear that day, but face-cam was important, as he didn’t do it all that often, and so he dressed up for the occasion, even slipping in the fake fangs he’d bought when he’d first started using his vampire persona. He wouldn’t be able to wear them all through the stream - they made him lisp - but they would look good for his opening bit.
Finally, he was ready to log on, setting up his stream with the ‘starting soon’ screen, and loading up Minecraft.
He still hadn’t asked Techno whether they were still streaming together, but he supposed he’d get his answer soon enough.
Just before he could turn his facecam on, however, a knock came at the door.
And unless Floof had grown opposable thumbs in the last hour, it probably wasn’t him.
“Hey.”
Techno looked almost surprised on the other side of the door, as Phoenix swung it open, trying for a friendly smile and succeeding maybe halfway there.
“Hey.” the man replied, apparently just as eloquently, “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were streaming yet.”
“No worries vato,” he said easily (dude), “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known.”
“I should have asked first.” he countered, and Phoenix got the distinct impression they weren’t talking about him streaming anymore.
“Yeah well, you can’t exactly go back and ‘unknock’,” he said, trying for a laugh, “Anyway, what did you need?”
“I just wanted to check if we were still good. For streaming tonight, that is.”
“Yeah, we’re good, man.” he hesitated a moment, before pulling the taller man into a hug, “I should probably get back to Chat before they start an uprising, but we could talk later?”
“Alright,” nodded Techno, “I’ll see you on stream in a bit.”
“After I’ve stolen your house, you mean?”
“Heh? You can’t steal my house, dude! That’s mine!” protested Techno, and just like that they were back to normal.
“Watch me!” he said, grinning as he shut the door on his roommate's face.
And this time the smile was real.
They’d be okay - they always were.
Dropping back down into his chair, he double checked that everything was set up and ready, before flipping his camera on, and his ‘starting soon’ screen off.
“Hola chicos, today we’re going to be learning the art of home title fraud-!”
—-----------------------------------------
Croix shouldn’t have come out this far.
The bitter air was hardly a matter for him - he’d been dead for centuries, after all, and the cold on the outside was nothing in comparison to the cold of empty veins.
What was a problem, however, was that while he might be just fine in the chill, not much else was, which gave him few options for feeding. If he didn’t find some creature soon, he’d be too weak to travel onwards, and become trapped within this biome until he could contact one of his friends to rescue him.
It had been an impulsive decision to leave the relative safety of the Essempi, where his friends lived, and where he had access to his castle, and to an almost unlimited supply of food.
He fed on animal blood mostly, since there weren’t exactly hordes of people jumping at the chance of being bitten - the amount of blood he required from humans wasn’t nearly enough to cause them lasting damage, but on a war-torn server like this, the few days needed to recuperate from the blood-loss could be the difference between winning and losing a battle.
Tensions had been rising on the server again - L’Manberg was as unstable as ever, with it’s pawn-President, and Quackity who ran things behind the scene, Dream had exiled Tommy and was acting more suspicious than usual, and that wasn’t mentioning the cult that had been casually building itself in the Badlands.
When Dream had invited him to the server all those months ago, he’d been promised a place of peace, a place where he could be free from the stigma that arose from his heritage. And it had been, to begin with. He’d built his black stone castle on a nearby mountain, complete with tunnels running right through the ground and down to bedrock, spending his days interior decorating and breeding up livestock, and his nights exploring, partying and hanging out with friends both old and new.
But in the same way that history was doomed to repeat, that peace came to an end with the arrival of the British.
He hadn’t taken a side in the initial conflicts - being such an ancient being meant that he was well used to battle and opposition, and he’d long since learnt that the best course of action was to let them pass by, and side with the winners at the end. He hadn’t been unduly worried by the entire affair - what would happen, would happen, and it was hardly any skin off his nose if a country got blown up once or twice. He was glad that the Dream team had come through unscathed - he was rather fond of the admin and his chosen companions, but other than that he’d been content to watch.
The conflict had been predictable - the British had never been particularly creative in their methods of war, and L’Manberg was no different. He’d sat on the sidelines of the election, watching with amusement as George failed to arrive for the day itself, and then as Schlatt and Quackity had teamed up and taken the Presidency as their own.
In fact, it had all been so predictable that he could practically write a script for it. Predictable, right up until the point it wasn’t.
He’d heard of Technoblade, of course - the man had helped form and arm Pogtopia, Tommy had called him his brother on more than one occasion, and Wilbur was openly fond of the piglin-hybrid. He’d heard of Technoblade, and even seen him once or twice from a distance.
But he’d never seen Technoblade.
He’d never linked the potato-obsessed hybrid with the god he’d heard of whispered around campfires, who left a trail of blood behind him like the realms had never seen.
He’d seen him in action precisely once before, from very far away of course, given that he was still alive to tell the tale, and even for a creature that survived off blood, it had been terrifying to witness.
You could understand why he had a hard time equating the Blood God to the sarcastic, slightly emotionally awkward but apparently well-meaning hybrid.
Well, well-meaning right up to the point where he spawned withers to attack the city he’d been fighting to protect, and brutally executed his younger brother.
Then he’d seen the Blood God in his… well, hardly all his glory, since there were actually survivors from the 16th, but part of it at least.
After everything had happened, he’d decided that perhaps it would be for the best to head out of town for a bit, just until things settled again in the South.
Which was why he was here now, pushing North in a full blizzard, and wondering why he always seemed to make terrible life decisions.
And then he saw the light.
Literally, he saw a light on the snow, rather than that he was dying dramatically or had a sudden revelation.
From the distance, a house rose from the snow, a rather cosy looking log cabin from which light spilt invitingly. It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected from an individual with the moniker ‘the blood god‘, but unless someone else had retired to the Antarctic recently, it was certainly his house.
Knock knock knock
There was a dead silence in the few moments after he knocked, before the faint shuffling of feet across a wooden floor could be heard, slow and deliberate.
Croix had to tilt his head upwards to look the heavily armed Piglin in the face, smirking at the blank look he received in return.
“Croix.” Greeted Technoblade shortly, “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend who dropped by to say hello?” asked Croix in mock offence.
“I wouldn’t say we were old friends,” replied the man, “I don’t seem to recall you hanging around Pogtopia with us.”
“I’m a busy man, what can I say? Plus, I’m fairly certain I would have got a rash from all the potatoes you had stashed in there. I’ve got a delicate constitution.”
If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn that Technoblade stifled a snort.
“What do you want?” He asked bluntly, “I’m in retirement.”
“So touchy,” tsked Croix, “I just wanted to say hello to my new neighbour!”
“… heh?”
“Neighbour!” repeated Croix brightly, “I’m moving out here! There’s a nice patch of forest half a mile west I’ve got my eye on.”
Technoblade just stared blankly at him. “You’re not moving out west.”
“You know what? You are so right. Forest homes are so tacky. I’ll just move in here!”
Technoblade looked as if he was in the midst of some horrific fever dream. “You can’t just move into my house.”
“Watch me.”
“I haven’t invited you in.” Techno’s tone was firm, “You can’t steal my house if you can’t come in.”
Croix smiled. It wasn’t a particularly nice smile.
“See, the funny thing about vampire rules, is that there’s rather a lot of them, and they’re all rather unverified. You’ve seen me out in the daylight, you’ve seen me cross running water, eat garlic, touch silver - hell, Eret staked me once, on a dare. What makes you think I need an invite to enter a building?”
Techno just stared with dead eyes as he stepped over the threshold and into his house. His hand didn’t even twitch towards his weapon as Croix immediately flit over to a chest on the far wall, opening them rapidly one by one, and maybe snatching a gapple or two as he did so.
The shock-fueled apathy lasted maybe another twenty seconds, just enough time for Croix to joint out the place before the hiss of metal alerted him to the fact that Technoblade had drawn his sword.
“You have five seconds to get out of my house or things get messy.”
Croix chuckled slightly nervously, raising his hands up, “Hey, hey, why don’t we stick the sword somewhere else than in me? Innuendo not intended. Unless-” he winked at Technoblade, who’s expression didn’t change, “Okay, apparently no ‘unless’s’, but still! We can be friends, right? I mean, Phil wouldn’t want you to kill me, right? And he was the one who gave me directions, anyway!”
“...Phil gave you directions?”
“How else do you think I found you?” He hoped his voice was more convincing than it felt, since Phil very much did not give him directions. “Come on, Blade, one night? For an old friend?”
“We’re not friends,” repeated Technoblade, but he was looking less and less like he was going to take Croix’s head off with his sword. The man hesitated a moment, before rolling his eyes and roughly saying, “You can sleep on the floor. You’re leaving in the morning. If you so much as open a chest, you’re dead.”
“Yes, yes, general threats to my personal safety, I know the deal.” Croix waved off, “I’ll be gone in the morning. Pinky promise.”
“Fine.” replied Technoblade, hesitating before he shrugged, “I’m heading to bed.”
“Night night roommate!”
Technoblade didn’t dignify him with a response.
Fair enough.
The next morning dawned bright and early, Croix rolling out of his makeshift bed and onto the hardwood floor, where a familiar figure had dropped down from his bed in the attic.
“Morning Technoblade!” chirped Croix brightly, “Sleep well?”
“Why are you still here?”
Croix gave the man a blank look, “There’s a snowstorm out! I’d get swept away in the wind! Surely you wouldn’t send a guest out to die?”
Technoblade automatically looked out of the window, where a faint sprinkling of snow was descending from the sky, barely enough to cover the ground.
Finally, he shrugged, “Oh what a shame,” he deadpanned, “Guess we’re snowed in.”
“Oh the horror,” agreed Croix, “I guess we better learn how to get along now that we’re trapped together for potentially weeks! What should we do first as a bonding activity?”
“... you ever farmed potatoes?”
Later, Phil would arrive at the cabin to find the both of them in a giant cavern full of rows and rows of potatoes, Croix gleefully excavating more and more room and Techno planted steadily. The pair of them pulled him inside immediately, scolding him for travelling in such awful weather. Every time he tried to tell them it was sunny and almost warm outside, they would talk over him until he gave up and began farming potatoes with him. By the time the Syndicate was formed, they had more potatoes than they knew what to do with. Ranboo was constantly horrified every time he opened a chest and there were more potatoes. Croix definitely wasn’t following him around with a stash in his inventory that he’d empty everytime it looked like the teenager was calming down.
—--------------------------
Phoenix groaned as he stood up from his chair, popping his back as he did so, which was sore from four hours hunched over his PC.
The stream had been a success - streams with Techno always did better anyway, and they seemed to have an even better flow than normal, the content pouring out perfectly. In unrelated news, he was also contemplating starting a potato cult, which would be hilarious to have as a bit with Badboyhalo and the Eggpire.
Scooping up Pumpkin from the bed, the ginger cat protesting momentarily before going limp in his arms, he exited his bedroom slowly, padding down the stairs to the kitchen. Pumpkin regained his bones when they stepped through the door, leaping down and sitting next to his bowl with an impetuous look.
“Alright, alright, I’ll feed you,”grumbled Phoenix, grabbing a can of cat food and another of dog food for Floof. The white dog was currently in Techno’s room, but he’d come down when Techno did.
As if on cue, scrabbling claws appeared at the kitchen door, Floof bounding in and straight for his food bowl.
“Stream was good.”
“Yeah?” asked Phoenix, briefly debating whether to actually cook food, and rapidly deciding that cooking was overrated and Just Eat was clearly superior, “It was definitely fun. I should move into your house more.”
Techno snorted, “You’ve done that twice already, I don’t have any more houses for you to move into. Unless you’re going to move into my childhood home, but you’d have to live with my parents then.”
“Offering to let me meet the parents?” teased Phoenix, “Take me to dinner first.”
“Alright.”
Phoenix’s witty reply was momentarily delayed by the freezing of all cognitive thought. “What?” he managed, rather eloquently.
Techno shrugged, although his eyes had that same fixed look to them, “I said I’d take you to dinner. If you want me to.”
“I-” Phoenix took a breath, “Take me to dinner how? As friends? Or…?”
“However you want to go. I mean, I know what I’d like to go as, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I- can I just clarify that by ‘you know what you want’, you’re asking me on a date? Because if so, then yeah. I’d like that.”
“Don’t get too excited,” said Techno dryly, but there was a faint smile on his lips, and his eyes were practically luminous, “I’m taking you to Olive Garden.”
Phoenix smiled, and it was a bright thing, “You know I’m going to wear the most atrocious outfit I can think of, right? I’m going to give at least one good Christian lady a heart attack.”
“I’ll hold your hand on the way in and give at least three more a heart attack.”
They laughed briefly, Phoenix stretching his hand out to cover the taller man’s. He stepped closer, and Techno stopped laughing, even though his eyes kept smiling.
“We didn’t do this right earlier,” murmured Phoenix, “Which was mostly my fault, but I’d like to try again. If you’d like-”
As it turned out, Techno did want that. Multiple times in fact.
And if his lips were slightly swollen when they finally managed to stumble up the stairs and into Techno’s room, well, there was no evidence, and that would hold in a court of law.
Notes:
If you liked this, and would like to see your own OC, reader-insert or DSMP pairing, drop me a request!
my tumblr is @ria_writes_stuff come check me out!
Chapter 4: Unfinished Techno/Male OC
Summary:
I have an idea if you'd like.
A request for ZombiePiglinMafia or Hero/Villain AU with Soulmates
Techno x Reader - Platonic Partners
The soulmate aspect can be like 'Where you touch for the first time is black until touched by your soulmate' or "Count Down to First Meeting"
Male Reader named Xander perhaps?Basically "innocent" reader meeting notorious criminal Techno, and they are soulmates. Reader goes, 'oh well, guess we are partners now' and shenanigans happen. Techno isn't looking for romance, and reader doesn't mind. (They do. But they take out their anger elsewhere.)
Notes:
hey so- if you hadnt guessed ive stopped writing stuff like this (im deeper in the fandom now and im busy as heck lmao)
ive stuck the book on anon for now, but for anyone whos been around long enough, yeah you know who i am
this chapter is unfinished, but its 7k worth of material and i frankly dont have the motivation to finish
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Soulmarks.
A perfectly ordinary, albeit beautiful part of life, as inevitable as puberty or the turning of the seasons.
No one knew how they worked - how the black patches of skin would swirl into colour with the connection of its partner, nor how almost everyone ended up activating their soulmarks, despite the statistically unlikelihood of the events occurring. Of course, activating a soulmark was different to actually finding your soulmate - it was everyone’s greatest fear to return home after a long day, to find your soulmark swirling with colour from an accidental touch, and then have to stare desperately at your account on Soul-Bank, with the details of when and where you crossed paths, in hopes of finding your other half.
Soulmates weren’t always romantic - in fact, in many cases they weren’t. People who were in love already, or married, or committed, or even just not interested in romance, would find a deep platonic bond with their soulmate, or a sibling relationship, or an almost-parental one in cases where the age gap was larger than normal.
On his part, Xander had always been open to negotiation with his soulmate, wherever and whoever they were. He’d be happy to engage in a romantic relationship, being currently single and all, but he wouldn’t be a bastard about it if his soulmate felt otherwise, or had a previous commitment.
Stepping out of his doorway, Xander pulled his scarf tightly around his neck, buttoning up his jacket against the wind chill on the street - the afternoon was cold but nice, the winter sky that specific shade of blue that came only during the coldest months, and Xander enjoyed the brisk walk down to the offices where he worked, stopping briefly at his favourite coffee shop/bakery to pick up his usual order on the way, waving to Niki as he left. Twenty minutes later, he was settled at his desk, a steaming cup of coffee to his left, and a pastry to his right, ready to start his day.
Almost as soon as he’d switched his status to open, and turned on his call line, the phone was ringing, and he greeted his first customer of the day. One might assume that Xander’s job was exciting - taking live reports of suspected villain and vigilante activity seemed vital and thrilling, but when you took anywhere from eight to twenty calls an hour, half of whom were attempting to report service workers for events out of their control, and the other half who would ramble for ten minutes about their morning before telling him “oh yeah, this guy literally robbed a bank, but don’t you want to hear about my terrible day-?”, it got old fast.
He would pass on the active cases to the Hero Tower, who would dispatch a Hero of varying rank down to sort it out, file away reports that didn’t have an active crime attached to the respective files, and politely hang up on the trolls and the old ladies complaining about their back problems. The one and only upside of this job was that he was legally allowed to do that - the lines had to be clear as possible in the case of an actual attack, where calls in could save the Hero team precious minutes of searching.
The day passed in infinite moments of watching the clock, and blinks that made hours disappear at a time, the hands on the clock showing his progress from mid-afternoon when his shift started, to eleven pm, when he could sign off for the day. Or the night, rather.
He’d almost made it out when everything went to hell.
It was quarter to eleven, the time when the people for the next shift began to set themselves up, ready to switch over as soon as the afternoon shift finished their last call. He’d just submitted a report that the Vigilante Red Chaos had been seen entering a building in the L’Manberg district, thanking the patron for their help as he hung up, tossing his long empty coffee cup into the bin as he did so, more than ready to make the switch over to Tina, his replacement for the night shift.
And then, as if the universe had heard his desperate desire for sleep, and had decided ‘fuck no’, the alarm blared out across their floor, red lights flashing menacingly as iron grills slammed over the windows and the doors. Xander groaned out loud, dropping his head onto the desk. Why couldn’t this have happened before his shift?
“What do you think it is now?” asked Kaleb, who sat on the other side of the desk, “Reckon someone tripped and hit the alarm? Another fault in the wiring? Someone stole a set of cutlery from the dining room?”
“Maybe the Warden came for a visit and saw a stray cat.” suggested Xander with a smirk, referring to the incident during a recent Level 5 where the Hero in question had been startled by the appearance of a cat in his lab, and had hit the panic button on reflex. Given that the lab in question made most of the Hero’s weapons, half of the active Hero force had abandoned their posts and raced back to the Hero Tower. It had been the biggest scandal since the Dream Team had accidentally broken into a HOA meeting instead of a black market deal.
In any other city, something like this might have sent the occupants into a panic, huddling under desks and crying. In the Greater Essempi, this happened every other week, and they were no more panicked over it than if the coffee machine broke. Less, in fact.
They would sit there for an hour, maybe two, or three at a stretch, until the Heroes gave the building the all clear, and then those who were meant to be working would start, and everyone else would go home with overtime. They were nothing to the Villains, nothing more than mindless drones going about their work, barely even people. Even if this was a legitimate alarm, there wouldn’t be any reason why they would attempt to harm them. They’d be too preoccupied by the various Heroes coming to kick their asses.
And then the metal grill on the door buckled.
At least three people screamed, as a second impact buckled the door before it shattered entirely, a tall figure stepping through. “Stay still.” it commanded in a deep voice, “And no one will have to get hurt.”
Xander watched in horror as Kevin from Accounting, who’d only come down to visit his friend, let out an unholy screech and made a break for it across the room. He was dead before his body hit the floor.
He barely suppressed a whimper of his own as the blood poured out of every orifice on Kevin’s face, soaking the beige carpet that management had threatened to fire them over if they stained. It was strange, what you focused on when there was a dead body three metres to your left, but all he could think about was that the blood was never going to come out. Maybe he could buy a rug.
“I really don’t know what you expected there, man.” said the figure in a dry voice, stepping over the body carelessly, and into the light from the alarm still spinning. As if on cue, the shrill call of the siren stopped, leaving them in silence. It was glaringly obvious who the man was - even without the display of blood-manipulation, the Blade’s costume was infamous and instantly recognisable - long pink hair braided back over his shoulder, a heavy-looking red cloak trimmed with white fur, and of course the pig skull fastened tightly over his face, hiding all expression from the person who was more legend than man. Along with the Crow Father and The Siren, The Blade made up one third of the most powerful criminal empire in the world. The Syndicate.
And if one member of the Syndicate was here, that meant that the rest were close behind.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” said The Blade in an almost bored manner, “About ten minutes ago, one of you took a call about Red Chaos. Whatever report you made is going to be wiped off the system entirely, from every cloud and database you have. You have thirty seconds to identify yourself, or the majority of you are going to die a slow, painful death. Your precious Heroes are currently quite distracted with my friends, so I have at least-” he made a show of checking his wrist, “Half an hour to have some fun. Your thirty seconds starts now.”
Oh Prime.
Oh Prime.
That was him.
He wasn’t particularly fond of anyone in the room, apart from maybe Kaleb and Tina, but he couldn’t let them just die. But neither did he feel like dying himself.
“That’s- that’s me.” He was proud that his voice didn’t shake as he spoke, shifting from the spot where he’d dropped to the floor onto his knees, to face the man that even the most powerful Heroes were scared of fighting.
“Stand up.” commanded the man, and Xander complied, legs shaking only slightly. The Blade was even taller in person than he looked on the comm-screens, at least 6"4 if not more. As Xander approached his computer, he couldn’t help but be hyper aware of the man behind him, standing just slightly closer than was comfortable as he turned the screen back on from its sleeping state. He flinched as the sound of footsteps echoed from his left, followed by a scream and a thump, as a second escape attempt was foiled.
The report was easy enough to wipe - he hadn’t managed to send the final copy out before the alarm had sounded, and as such he only needed to cancel the report function and delete the written statement.
“It’s done,” he croaked.
The Blade looked at him for a moment, eyes indecipherable behind the mask, before apparently deciding that he was telling the truth. “Good. I-”
“Blade. Put down your weapon and this doesn’t have to get messy.”
Xander had never thought he would be less happy to see a Hero in his life. Why the hell couldn’t Dream have waited thirty more seconds until he was away from the serial killer.
“Ah yes, I, the notorious criminal, will definitely listen to the Hero telling me to disarm.” The Blade snorted as Dream took another step inside the room, raising his staff at the pink-haired man. Unlike most of the Heroes, Dream’s power didn’t technically fall under the ‘attack’ category - the man was gifted with incredible luck, which he couldn’t control but came in very useful during battles. Unfortunately, his drawback was that the luck he used was taken away from those around him, meaning that Xander was most likely screwed.
Before Dream could move to engage The Blade in combat, Xander found himself being swung bodily around, facing Dream, and suspended upright by a single hand wrapped around his upper arm, the grip tight enough to cut off the circulation, and make the bone ache under the skin. He barely held back a whimper as fingernails dug into his arm, surely drawing blood with how deep they were pressed. In front of them, Dream had frozen, almost tripping over as he halted his momentum, not wanting to hit the civilian currently being used as a human shield. Real nice of him.
“Blade…” Dream’s voice was strangled as he stared at the sight before him, and Prime if that didn’t make Xander’s anxiety spike. Surely one of the top Heroes had dealt with civilian hostages before? The hand around his arm tightened even more, and Xander couldn’t hold back the whimper this time, gasping as something cracked.
“That’s my name, yes.” replied the Blade, “‘Now if you don’t mind-“
The almost bored voice choked off, and Xander promptly dropped to the floor as he was ungraciously released, barely catching himself on his forearms, yelping as the movement jostled his arm, cradling it against his chest. He spun round in a futile attempt to fend off the Villain, only to see the Blade frozen in place, staring at his own hand, the one that had been clamped around Xander’s arm only a few moments ago.
The hand that was swirled with colour, deep burgundy streaked with metallic gold.
The hand that he was fairly certain had been decidedly not colourful a few minutes ago.
To his left, Kaleb was staring at him with eyes filled with enough pity to make him cringe, and it was with a deep sense of horror, that he stared down at his own arm, which, as he had feared, was now swirled in an identical colour.
“Fuck.” He whispered in a very eloquent manner.
The Blade let out a laugh that if he didn’t know better, would say was nervous. “Well, that complicates things.”
And then there was a heavy impact somewhere around the back of his head, and Xander’s world went dark. Mother fucker.
-0-0-0-0-0-
“- mate, you just need to calm down.”
“I am calm, Phil. I-”
“Really? Because it sounds like you’re panicking.”
“Wilbur, you’re not helping, this is a conversation between your brother and I.”
“About a decision that will impact all our lives.”
“Oh, because you were so considerate when you brought Tommy in-”
“Boys!” came a sharp bark, cutting off the indignant reply of the third man, “Quiet please. Our guest is awake.
Xander groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as he rolled over on his bed, hoping that if he tried hard enough, he could make both the voices and the thumping headache go away. He’d had a terrible day, what with being taken hostage by a Supervillain and-
He bolted upright so fast his head spun, eyes darting around wildly.
The first thing he noticed about the room he was in, was that it was big. He could probably fit half his apartment into it, not including what appeared to be an extensive walk-in wardrobe on one side, propped open by a chair.
The bed he was on was both the biggest and softest he’d ever slept on, large enough that he could stretch out into a starfish and not come close to touching the edges, the bedspread a deep red to match the colour of the walls. However, what he focused most on, were the three grown men standing at the end of the bed.
“Hey mate.” said the one closest to him, his blue eyes narrowed despite the friendly smile on his face, blonde hair falling almost to his shoulders, “How you feeling?”
Xander didn’t answer, instead craning his head round to look at the other two - they were both obscenely tall, even from his vantage point on the bed, but that was where the differences stopped.
The one leaning against the wall had a mop of curly brown hair, streaked with a single strip of white, and a pair of deep orange sunglasses that hid his eyes.
The other man was… quite possibly the hottest person he’d ever seen. Dusky pink hair fell almost to his waist, even in the loose braid it was tied back in, a few wispy strands framing a pair of cheekbones sharp enough to kill, and the most gorgeous eyes that Xander could almost sink into. From this far, he couldn’t quite tell what colour they were - a deep brown, maybe? Mixed with something a little softer, that made them almost glow in the-
“Mate?”
Oh right, yes, he really ought to focus on the people who had kidnapped him, rather than on how hot they were. Which was very, just to be clear-
“I’m fine!” he blurted out, before the blonde man could get any more concerned, “I mean, my head hurts, and everything’s sore, but other than that, I’m fine.”
The man watched him for a moment, before shrugging, “Wil, go get a glass of water and some paracetamol please.”
The brunette - Wil? - grumbled, but did so, stalking out of the room in a fluid motion.
“Now, before we do anything else, do you know who we are?”
Xander watched the blonde warily, “... should I?”
“We’re all over the news most days, so yeah, probably.”
Xander stared blankly at the man for a second, running his mind over who he saw on the news regularly, and trying to match a sweatpant-wearing man with electric eyes and smile lines to-
“Oh fuck.”
The Angel of Death - because that’s who he was - smiled again, but this time his smile was a little darker, a little sharper. Xander scrambled further up the bed at the sight of it, clutching a pillow to his chest like it might protect him from one of the most powerful, unremorseful killers in the world, who committed war crimes for shits and giggles.
“What- what do you want from me?” he managed to choke out, “I don’t- I’m not rich, I don’t know anyone, I’ve never messed with your- your kind of people. I-”
“You don’t remember?” His rambling was cut off by the pink-haired man at the end of the bed stepping forward, un-hunching his shoulders to stand at his full height. It would have been intimidating if he hadn’t been chewing on his lip, clearly nervous.
“Remember what?” Xander fought to keep his breathing calm and even, fought not to lose it in front of these people, “I don’t-”
Except he did. The memories were trickling in now: the alarm going off, joking with Kaleb, the entrance of The Blade, wiping the computer report, Dream entering, and then-
He scrabbled at the hoodie he was wearing, noting vaguely that it wasn’t one he recognised, pulling it over his head with shaky arms, to see-
To see the handprint stamped onto his arm like bloody gold, darker at the tips, where barely scabbed-over wounds sat, crescent cuts blending in almost perfectly with the blood-stain of his soulmark.
He stared down at it, running his fingertips along the edges, feeling the ridges of the cuts, mesmerised by the swirls of the centre. It was beautiful.
Xander swallowed, looking up at the man before him. The Blade was visibly tense, his entire frame stiff as he came to stand by the side of the bed, but Xander didn’t flinch as he extended his hand, palm up.
Just as he’d expected, gold-streaked blood covered his palm, matching the outline on Xander’s own arm perfectly.
There was silence in the room for a moment, The Blade standing by the edge of the bed, Xander in the middle, and The Angel at the end, watching them both with those bright eyes. When Xander finally moved, it was with a cautious slowness, and reverent fingers, tracing across The Blade’s palm, stroking up and down each finger, before settling on his wrist, fingers wrapped loosely around the joint like a bracelet. He let his gaze drag back up his arm, along the jawline he wanted to run his tongue along, and back into those endless eyes. Almost unconsciously, he tugged slightly on his wrist, The Blade sinking in one elegant motion down onto the bed beside him, close enough that Xander could finally make out the colour of his eyes, a deep maroon, flecked with gold.
In one movement, The Blade flipped their connected hands, Xander’s loose grip broken easily, his own wrist suddenly locked into the tight grip of the others. The Blade was noticeably less gentle as he held onto his wrist, even as his thumb rubbed soothingly on the side of his arm.
“Blade…” The word fell out with a quiet gasp, a flicker of something not dissimilar to butterflies sparking again in his chest.
“Techno.” corrected the man, in as quiet a voice as Xander had heard from any of them up until now. “My name’s Techno.”
“Techno.” whispered Xander quietly. Reverently.
The Bla- Techno’s hand released his wrist, but didn’t leave his arm, trailing up and along his forearm, nails scratching delicately and deliberately as he went, Xander shuddering slightly at the feeling. He traced invisible patterns along his arm, his nail continuing to dance the line between pressure and pain, before his hand finally settled against his upper arm, covering the soulmark entirely. He held on for a moment, not squeezing, just holding on, his fingers sitting comfortably in the dents he’d left last time.
Their gazes re-met, closer than ever now, practically pressed up against each other on the bed, Xander hyper aware of every place their bodies touched.
“I want-“
Before Xander got the chance to hear exactly what Techno wanted, there was a loud thump as the door was kicked open, and a small object was thrown at his head.
“Ow!” he said, more out of reflex than actual pain.
“Be grateful I didn’t throw the glass of water as well.”
-0-0-0-0-0-
Xander paced back and forth across the plush carpet, picking absentmindedly at the skin on his fingers as he did so. For how big the room had seemed when he first awoke, it seemed almost cramped now, as he wore a path in the floor, occasionally stopping to rattle the door in case it had magically unlocked itself.
After Wilbur, (who had introduced himself snappily before asking to talk to Techno and Phil outside) had returned with the paracetamol and water, the three of them had left rapidly, Techno dropping his arm like it scalded him, Phil giving him a look closer to pity than he’d like. The lock had clicked as they’d left, leaving Xander alone for the first time during this entire thing. Which was great in that the Super Villains were out the room, but bad in that he now had nothing to distract him from the fact that The Blade was apparently his soulmate.
He’d gone through the entire room in a matter of minutes - all the drawers were empty, the closet held nothing but clothes, and the attached bathroom, while massive, was also barren of anything but overly fancy soaps. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would have done if he had found some sort of weapon, but it would have felt comforting to have it anyway. Rather like how a child felt protected by a blanket at night, despite the fact that a real monster under their bed would easily tear through it.
He had managed to wind himself up so tight, that by the time the lock clicked once again, he actually jumped as it swung open, managing to trip over his own feet and land back on the bed.
At the door, stood Techno, his arms folded, and an unreadable look on his face.
“Come out.” he ordered, holding the door open, and Xander hesitated only a moment before complying, resisting the urge to touch his soulmate as he passed, well aware that the longing in his body for contact had no guarantee to be reciprocated, and might well make his situation worse.
The corridor he stepped into was as plush as his room had been, but unlike his room, showed actual signs of life. There were five other doors along the hallway, with one on the end.
As Techno led him down the corridor, not touching him, but standing close enough that he could feel the heat of his body, Xander craned his neck, taking in everything he could. One of the doors was open slightly, and he caught a glimpse of deep blue walls, and what appeared to be a guitar leaning up against one.
Together, they turned the corner, and emerged into a large space that appeared to be a combined kitchen and living room, filled with soft-looking chairs, beanbags and the various detriments that came with life. Shoes were strewn on one side of the room, there were jackets hung on chairs, photos framed on walls - there was even a DVD case on one wall, filled with hundreds if not thousands of DVDs. There was also, of course, an alarming number of weapons strewn across various surfaces, and in some cases, buried hilt deep into the wall.
“Ah mate!” came the cheerful voice of Phil, “I’m just making us some lunch, you like mac and cheese, right? Everyone likes mac and cheese.”
Xander had to clear his throat before he spoke, not helped by the fact that everyone in the room was now watching him. “Y-Yeah. That’s fine.”
And by everyone, he meant everyone. Techno was still behind him, Phil was by the oven, and Wilbur was sitting at an island table, but next to him were three more people. Correction, three more children.
They couldn’t have been older than sixteen, any of them, yet they all seemed perfectly relaxed sitting in the kitchen of the world’s worst (best?) Super Villains.
“Ayy!” cheered the one next to Wilbur loudly, a wide grin splitting his face, golden curls skimming his eyes, “Tech’s bitch is here!”
“Tommy!” half-yelled the short brunet next to him, “You can’t call people bitches! And even if he was, he isn’t Techno’s!”
“Yeah, yeah,” waved off Tommy, “You know what I mean! I’m Tommy, by the way. This is Tubbo, and this is Boob boy!”
“...boob boy?”
The boy in question, a rather tall looking child with spilt-dye hair, groaned, “It’s Ranboo. Tommy’s just… he’s Tommy, basically.”
Tommy ignored the taller boy, “What’s your name, bitch boy?”
“Uh Xander.”
“Pog name, Big X. Not as pog as Tommy, but still pretty pog. I-”
Tommy was cut off by Phil placing a large bowl of food in front of him, the child apparently forgetting all about the conversation he’d been having in favour of stuffing his face with the pasta, making him rather resemble a chipmunk.
Xander hovered awkwardly as Techno took a seat on the island, frozen until Techno rolled his eyes and pointed to the seat next to him, which Xander claimed. An equally large bowl of mac and cheese was placed in front of him, complete with just about every topping in existence. It looked and smelled good enough that he wouldn’t even care if it was poisoned - it would be a worthy way to go.
They ate in silence - well, he ate in silence at least. Tommy managed to talk almost all the way through the meal, which was impressive given that he had more food than physically possible in his mouth at all times, the rest of them seeming content with butting in occasionally to answer a question or make a point of their own.
Techno didn’t speak once during the entire thing, although Xander could feel his gaze on the side of his head like a laser beam, the man never taking his eyes off him. Finally, they were all finished, plates empty and cutlery laid neatly to the side.
“Can I show Xander to his new room?” asked Tommy excitedly, practically vibrating on his seat.
Xander froze. His… room? They were planning to keep him here? He-
“Tommy,” chided Phil, “We haven’t spoken to Xander about that yet, mate.”
The blonde scrunched his nose, “But we had a whole conversation about it! You said we could vote on whether he could stay here, and everyone but Wil said yes! And Big X wants to stay here, right?” Tommy turned wide blue eyes onto him, staring deep into Xander’s soul.
“Or,” cut in Wilbur, with a nasty smile, “We can wipe his memory and send him back to his little mundane life. Not everyone is as adaptable as you, sunshine, some people just aren’t cut out for this life.”
The taller man ran a hand through the blonde's hair, drawing Xander’s eyes to the swirl of bright red and dusky orange that ran through the tendrils. Sure enough, there was a matching swirl on Wilbur’s hands, little streaks all squished together, a few fine lines escaping.
Something inside him twisted at the sight, at how easily Wilbur and Tommy seemed to fit, the younger ducking away with a curse, but grinning all the while.
“I want to stay.”
He didn’t have to be looking at Techno to feel the way he tensed up, stiff at his side, yet a sense of almost… relief going through him.
Phil grinned widely at him, “You sure, mate? We’re not going to keep you here against your will.”
“I’m sure,” Xander said, forcing his voice to be strong, “I… it’s not exactly how I imagined meeting my soulmate to go, but I don’t want to lose him now.”
Phil’s smile widened, even as Wilbur’s twisted into a dark look. “In that case, mate, I’ll let Tommy give you the grand tour. There’s a few house rules we have, but it’s pretty laid back here.”
“Yes!” crowed Tommy, “Come on Big X, I’ll show you everything!”
-0-0-0-0-0-
‘Everything’ had ended up being just slightly more than Xander had anticipated.
It turned out that the Syndicate owned the entire building they were in, under the radar, of course, and that their little family (Tommy had referred to them as the SBI, and had refused to elaborate), used the top three for their own day to day lives. The room they’d been eating in was the top floor, which was the one that most resembled an actual house, and therefore the place they spent most of their time. The next one down was where they kept the ‘fun stuff’, which turned out to be a large swimming pool, several games rooms and an indoor cinema theatre. The third floor down Tommy said was out of bounds - from what Xander could pick up on between the boy’s rambling, which was endless and loud, that floor was where the Syndicate kept most of their personal weapons and a private gym, which the teens were only allowed in with adult supervision.
“So, uh, where did you meet Wilbur?” Xander finally managed to say, as Tommy refilled his lungs briefly.
The younger boy lit up, even as his mouth scowled, “The bitch was- well he was being a bitch! Tubso, boob-boy and I were trying to patrol like we always do, and then he threw me off a roof top for literally no reason! Well, I mean Tubbo did kinda explode him, but that’s barely a reason.”
Xander held back a smile, even as concern flickered across his mind, “Patrol?”
“Oh yeah, right, we’re all Vigilantes.” Tommy paused, “I mean, we were Vigilantes. I’m not sure what we are now. Wilby says we don’t have to do anything Villainous, and we still stop smaller Villains from doing stuff, but anyone hired by the Syndicate knows not to mess with us.”
“I see. So how did you go from ‘throwing you off a roof’ to letting you live here?”
Tommy shrugged, “Soulmates, innit? After that one time, Wil found out we were minors and refused to fight us anymore, which is bullshit ‘cause I’m a Big Man who can fight anyone, but no matter how many fire-balls Big T threw at him, he just kept trying to buy us hot chocolate and shit. And then one day I guess he ruffled my hair ‘cause he’s a bitch like that, and then our Soulmarks lit up! He took me to meet Tech and Phil the next day, to tell them I was moving in ‘cause our apartment was terrible, but I wasn’t gonna move anywhere without Tubbo, and he and the boob-boy are Soulmates. So now we’re here!”
The blonde grinned widely at Xander, even as the older man was left reeling. That was… a lot of information to take in at once.
“I see,” he said again.
“It’s good that Tech found you now, though,” mused the boy, “It means that no one else is gonna move in with us now.”
“What about the Ange- what about Phil’s Soulmate?” asked Xander without thinking.
Tommy was uncharacteristically silent, scuffing his shoe along the floor, “She- She’s not around anymore. Wilby won’t tell me what happened, and Phil gets- he gets a bit scary when I ask. It would be better if he shouted or something, but he just goes kinda cold.”
Xander nodded slowly. He wasn’t exactly surprised that Phil’s Soulmate was out of the picture - the guy had to be at least in his thirties, and considering the lifestyle he led, he couldn’t fault her for walking out. Or, you know, dying horribly.
Tommy was quiet for a moment longer, before he seemed to shake the fugue off, smiling broadly once more, “So that’s pretty much everything around here! I’m sure Techno will show you the gym if you ask nicely. So, where do you want to go now? Tubbo and Ranboo are probably in one of the games rooms - we’ve been trying to beat the Ender Dragon and it’s not going great. You can come and help us if you want!”
The boy was staring at him with wide puppy-dog eyes, and Xander felt the slightest bit awful for letting him down, “Uh, actually I was wondering if I could just head back to my room? It’s- it’s been a long day.”
Tommy deflated slightly, “Uh, yeah, sure Big Man. You know the way, right?”
“Yeah I know the way. Maybe- maybe you could set up a Minecraft account for me? I can’t remember the password to my old one. Then I could play with you guys later?”
Tommy immediately brightened again, yelling, “I can do that!” as he raced down the corridor and back down the stairs to the ‘fun’ floor.
Xander watched him go with a fond smile on his face - Ranboo had been right, Tommy was certainly Tommy, but the kid was sweet under the brashness, and it was evident he cared deeply for his family.
There was no one on the top floor as he walked through, but he thought he could hear the faint strum of a guitar from somewhere. Despite the emptiness, his shoulders remained tense all the way through the open space, only relaxing once the door to the room he’d stayed in before was open, stepping towards the bed with every intention of belly-flopping face first into it.
Only to be scared halfway to death by a figure lying half-naked across it.
He immediately looked down at the ground, fumbling half-blind for the door handle, “Oh Prime, I’m sorry, I thought this was the one I was in this-”
“It was. You can come in. And take your hand off your eyes before you trip and break your neck.” Techno’s voice was the same monotone it had always been, although Xander could have sworn it was tinged with amusement.
Gingerly, he looked back up, trying not to openly stare at the expanse of tanned chest he found himself face to face with, the muscles toned and taught against his skin, scars marring the smooth surface every other inch. If he had any less control, he might have run his hands across that smooth skin, and then followed them with his tong-
“I didn’t realise it was your room,” he blurted out, mostly to stop his thoughts running rampant again, “When I woke up it didn’t look-“ He stopped. Because it did look like a proper room now. Somehow, in the last hour or so, the bare walls of the room, void of personal affects or trinkets, had turned into something that while still clearly organised and tidy, was decidedly lived in.
“Most of the walls are reversible,” explained Techno, answering his silent confusion, “They’re designed to hide whatever I need them to in short notice. Everything else was transferred to temporary storage. We weren’t… we weren’t sure how you were going to react when you woke up and I figured weapons weren’t the best thing to have on display.”
Indeed, one entire wall was taken up by what had to be at least a hundred different weapons, most notably a giant axe that shimmered with a coating of what could only be netherite, and was clearly enchanted.
“It’s… nice,” he offered, mouth dry, “I, uh, like the knives.”
Techno smiled, “I know. I like them as well.”
Xander almost dropped to the floor in shock at the expression. Techno didn’t seem like the kinda person to smile. He grinned and he smirked, and he’d caught more than one fond look towards the teens at lunch, but he hadn’t seen him smile. It didn’t help that he was still shirtless and splayed across the bed like some kind of supermodel.
“So, uh, if this is your room, where should I go? I kinda just wanted to… decompress for a bit?”
“I believe Phil is currently converting one of the storage spaces to be a room for you, so until that’s done you have the choice of sharing with me, or taking the couch.” Techno didn’t take his eyes off Xander as he spoke, voice calm and confident, betrayed only by the way his fingers picked at the edge of the blanket, tugging threads unconsciously.
Xander blinked, “And you’re… okay with that? I would’ve thought I’d be banished right to the couch.”
Techno scrunched his nose, “Why would I do that? ‘Course you’re welcome to, but I figured you’d like privacy from at least Tommy, and he’s not allowed in here. I love that kid but sometimes I want to throw him out a window.”
“Well, because…” Xander hesitated, “I know this isn’t exactly normal, what we have. How we found each other. Who we are. And… I wasn’t sure how you wanted to go about this.”
Techno watched him for a moment, before shifting over on the bed and patting the side. “... I guess we should have a conversation then,” he said finally, thankfully (or not, depending on your perspective) pulling a shirt back on.
Xander hesitated only a moment before awkwardly clambering up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged facing the taller man, and feeling rather like a child, an uncomfortable feeling given the context of their conversation.
“So-” he started, “- I guess the real question here is what we want to be to each other. Obviously I don’t want to push you into a relationship or anything, but I’m definitely open to one sometime in the-”
“No.” The denial was clear and sharp, and Xander couldn’t help the way he flinched backwards just the tiniest bit. Techno’s face didn’t change, but there was a sharp current of regret that flowed briefly through his eyes before it was shut down. Techno sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I- I’m not looking for a relationship. Now or ever. It’s not a personal thing, it’s- I don’t particularly care about labels, but Wilbur says that it’s usually called being aromantic? I’m not interested in any sort of romance, it just doesn’t have an appeal to me.”
His words softened the blow slightly - it was nice to know that it was a general thing, rather than Xander himself - but he was rather more distracted by the glaring gap of what Techno hadn’t said. “That makes sense,” he said, nodding slowly, “I have a few friends like that. But- you said you were aro, right?” He looked down at his hands, not daring to meet Techno’s eyes as a flush spread across the back of his beck, “Are you ace as well? Asexual?”
“Why do you want to know?” There was definitely a teasing tone in Techno’s voice now, the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and Xander fought down the blush that was consistently pushing up into his face, making him resemble a very embarrassed tomato.
“Curiosity,” he said, finding the courage to look up, “No real reason.”
“Mmm.” hummed Techno, a smirk playing around his lips, “Sure bruh. Do you want to play chess?”
The abrupt switch in topic gave Xander whiplash, confusion replacing the coil of heat beginning to wind its way along his core, leaving him floundering. “Uh- sure? I mean, I can’t really play, but-”
“That doesn’t matter,” cut off Techno, already moving to get the board, “I’ll teach you.”
-0-0-0-0-0-
“I feel ridiculous.”
“It was your choice to come along,” Wilbur reminded him with a nasty smile, from where they were perched on the edge of a rather tall building. The taller was dressed in his Siren outfit, cutting a striking figure against the rising sun, as the city below woke up in the early morning mist, scurrying like ants along on the ground. Xander, on the other hand, was wearing a balaclava he’d borrowed from Tommy. And he still wasn’t entirely sure Wilbur hadn’t brought him here to push him off.
In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why he was here. There had been no pressure from anyone in the family to join their business - hell, Tommy still operated as a Vigilante most nights, while Tubbo and Ranboo had mostly retired, and Xander had been given the exact same options. The only thing that hadn’t been on his list of options had been to return to his old civilian life, but that was something he’d given up the moment he’d agreed to stay.
“What are we even doing here?” Xander asked, keeping one eye on the Villain to his left, “Robbing a bank or something?”
“Or something. Tech’s been planning this for weeks, you know? He was awfully excited when you said you wanted to join the business.”
“He was?”
“He was positively vibrating with excitement.” Sarcasm dripped from Wilbur’s lips, and Xander rolled his eyes. While it wasn’t too far-fetched that Techno had been excited, he most certainly hadn’t been visibly so.
It had been three months since he’d agreed to stay. Three months since he left behind the only life he’d ever known.
Notes:
the rest of the fic would've been 'xander kills some poor guy in a fit of rage during the attack that techno had planned, out of frustration that techno had been toying with his emotions'
and then uh- they probably would've had sex tbh, but i keep this account sfw mostly
croixthecross on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Jun 2024 11:26PM UTC
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Riveria_Fall on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Jun 2024 06:27AM UTC
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croixthecross on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Jun 2024 07:46AM UTC
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Riveria_Fall on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Jun 2024 11:06AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 05 Jun 2024 11:40AM UTC
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croixthecross on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Jun 2024 04:01PM UTC
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croixthecross on Chapter 3 Fri 14 Jun 2024 04:48PM UTC
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croixthecross on Chapter 3 Fri 14 Jun 2024 04:48PM UTC
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tylerthecreatorscumslut (Guest) on Chapter 3 Thu 05 Jun 2025 08:42PM UTC
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