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lest precious love slip away like time's sand

[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!!!]

I KNOW I WAS GONE FOR LIKE A MONTH BUT I COME BACK BEARING GIFTS WHICH IS TO SAY I WROTE 16.3K WORDS THUS BREAKING MY RECORD OF 15.6K.

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.

"Yeah."

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.

"ENOUGH!"

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.

"Technoblade?"

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.

"Okay."

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.

Genuinely.

"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.

"What?"

"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.

"Anything"

"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.

"Figures."

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 -”

“Techno.”

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?"

"Friends?"

"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.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

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?”

“Mhm.”

“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.

“What?”

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,

Technoblade

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, well...it 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.

#smp!techno x reader

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#smp!techno x reader