the fact if it was like 2020 or 22 we would have over 100K posts abt it 😭😭 mcyt x reader IS DEAD
AGREED. BRING IT BACK. WHAT DO I NEED TO DO TO BRING IT BACK??? 💔💔💔💔 COVID 2.0?????
WRITERS.. Writers.. writers.. if ur rlly thinking abt bringing the dream smp fanfics back again in the big 2026— don’t even bother doing it when brand new minecraft smps with the absolute most heartbreaking stuff going on between the characters are literally right there…… im desperately asking.. plz.
i would do it if i can…… but im illiterate and i get confuse on where plotlines of a story are headed, and my brain will definitely make the characters VERY ooc ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ aint no way im posting a crappy fanfic for the CCs to come across and read abt bruhhhhh
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
okay uhh, I know it's barely been a few days since my last techno oneshot BUT MY GOD I NEED TO WRITE MORE😭 this man has me in a chokehold!!! ALSO the voices won't be appearing in this oneshot for now because yeah I'm trying something out 👅
Anyways, THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO LIKED MY LAST POST AND LEFT COMMENTS! They honestly made my day :3 OKAY LET'S GET ON WITH IT!
Stronger Than You Think | c!Technoblade x Reader Oneshot
It started with the chest.
You’d barely opened the cabin door when you nearly walked right into Techno, who was hefting an entire storage chest in his arms like it was a loaf of bread.
He gave you a quick nod, muttered “morning,” and casually set it down on the table like he hadn’t just carried fifty stacks of cobblestone in one hand.
You blinked. “Uh… need help with that?”
He waved you off, too fast. “Nah, light work.”
You frowned, suspicious. “You sure you don’t want me to help?”
He shifted the chest back in his grip, muscles flexing. “Pfft. Nah. I could carry three of these.”
You gave him a long look, then turned back into the cabin. The second you stepped inside, you heard a loud CLUNK and a very quiet, breathless “…ow.”
At first, you chalked it up to Technoblade being… well, Technoblade. He was big, he was strong, and he wasn’t shy about it. But then it happened again. And again.
Every time you entered the room, suddenly he had something to lift.
You’d walk in, and he’d be hauling anvils. You’d come around the corner, and there he was, lugging entire stacks of logs across the yard. Always with that same forced nonchalance, like it was nothing.
“Oh, hey,” he’d say, too casually, straining just slightly as he carried a barrel full of iron. “Didn’t see you there.”
Or, “Yeah, no big deal,” as he dropped a mountain of stone bricks on the floor, panting only once you were out of sight.
You couldn’t help but wonder. Was he really just that obsessed with efficiency? Or was he—
No. That would be ridiculous.
…Wouldn’t it?
The answer came one afternoon when you doubled back into the storage shed after forgetting your tools.
Inside, Techno was bent over a stack of anvils, red-faced, arms trembling as he tried to shuffle them into position. A low grunt slipped out, followed by a muttered curse under his breath. He was so focused that he didn’t notice you until you cleared your throat.
He froze. Slowly—painfully slowly—he turned his head.
You crossed your arms. “It’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose.”
For once, the great, composed Technoblade actually stuttered. “Wh—what? Nah. Nah, this is… training. Yeah. Arm day.” He gave the anvils a weak pat, like they were loyal companions. “Gotta… keep the routine, y’know.”
You raised a brow. “Funny. I’ve only ever seen you train when I’m in the room.”
That earned you a sharp exhale through his nose, the closest thing he had to a nervous laugh. “Coincidence. Complete coincidence.”
“Mm-hm.” You leaned against the doorway, enjoying how the tips of his ears were turning pink. “Next thing I know, you’ll be hauling the entire cabin on your back.”
He smirked faintly, trying to reclaim some ground. “Don’t tempt me. Could probably do it.”
“Sure you could,” you teased. “Right after you finish catching your breath.”
His eyes widened just a fraction, and you knew you had him. But instead of admitting defeat, he scooped up the nearest anvil, staggered two steps toward the wall, and dropped it with a loud clang. Then he brushed his hands off like he’d just solved all the world’s problems.
“See?” he said, feigning calm. “Easy.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. “But at least I’m consistent.”
Your grin widened. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, big guy.”
pairings: c!Technoblade x reader, c!philza mentioned
premise: technoblade gets cozy purring during retirement
rated pg, it's just fluff yall
a/n: i haven't had much experience writing in general, so any criticism/tips would be pretty helpful! ive been super distracted with genshin so i might write for neuvillette next but idk
☆ミ
Technoblade doesn't purr. That's what he had thought his whole life. As the god of blood, he had singlehandedly wiped out entire armies, overthrown countless authoritative governments, and slain powerful deities and gods, he did not purr. Though his lineage allowed him the ability, and retirement could afford him the comfort, Technoblade couldn't see himself capable of producing the deep rumbling sound.
Maybe his throat had been the focus of too many attacks from enemies, maybe his piglin DNA had skipped the physiological part, maybe after everything he had been through, he wouldn't ever be comfortable enough anyways. That is what he told himself and everyone who asked. Including you.
But, on nights like this, you rest peacefully in his embrace as the fire crackles beside you and the words blur on the pages of his antique book, his tea cooling behind him on the table beside the couch, he feels your heartbeat and hears your pulse. Hundreds of years of pain and ache are slowly absolved until all that is left is overwhelming security and safety.
Technoblade almost misses it in the misty embrace of sleep. A dull vibration deep in his chest. It's broken, like an engine that hasn't been ignited in years. Surprise and subtle fear of the unfamiliar takes over and the rumble stops after only a few seconds. It was long enough to leave him alert and on guard. Technoblade doesn't purr- he thought to himself. He, the blood god, had never been able to do that before. Luckily, you were still asleep and weren't woken up by the sound that night.
He needed time to process this new sensation, he didn't get it though. About a week later, the feeling of your fingers working through his hair ignited that fire again. Your hands carefully separated his hair into thirds and weaved them together as per your morning routine. You had done his hair every day since moving in together to his retirement cabin. Nothing had changed, but it didn't stop the growing vibration in his ribcage, the warmth on his cheeks, and the shake in his hands.
You noticed, of course, and asked if he was okay, but your voice only made him melt further into the cushion. Before he could reply, his purr picked up tenfold. The sound filled the room as embarrassment and resignation filled his mind. He shakily explained the last time this happened, and how he didn't know why or when it would happen again. You reassured him that it had to be natural, and that it was nothing to be ashamed of, and he took that to heart and decided to himself that the next time he would purr, he would embrace it.
About a month later, the snow had picked up. Raging winds and subzero temperatures ravaged the landscape. Philza's windows couldn't handle the pressure and froze over. They cracked and shattered when he tried to warm the rooms up and now he had to stay in Techno's spare room. The room you usually slept in. Normally, you could take the couch downstairs, but why waste firewood when you could just share a bed with the living furnace that is your boyfriend. Techno's excuse for making you sleep separately was that he was huge and if he rolled over in his sleep, you would be flattened, or worse - enjoy it. He would take that risk tonight though, the cold is harsh and unforgiving, he felt far better knowing that you were safe and sound asleep next to him instead of downstairs where you would surely freeze.
Your nightly routine was normal - if not domestic, clean dishes from dinner, wash up, brush teeth and hair, and get comfy in pajamas. You slipped into bed beside him, the sheets were smooth and silky, the pillows were large and soft, and he was warm and comfortable. The bed was wide and smelled like him - like pine wood and something vaguely smokey from the nether or explosives, perhaps both.
It's almost awkward the way he tries to get comfortable around you, unsure whether to cuddle close or keep distance. You took pity on him and wrapped an arm around his torso. You eventually ended up in a position halfway on top of him, your head leaning on his shoulder and arm that wraps around your waist. Your leg slots between his and your bodies melt together under a thick duvet.
The lantern was out by now, the only light came from the enchanted tools and equipment on the wall. After a while, you picked up on soft snores and deep breathing beside you. The wind outside created a white noise perfect to fall asleep to, but not before you heard an unfamiliar sound take over the room. Technoblade had started purring in his sleep, loudly. The vibration alone rattled the bed frame.
You briefly had half a mind to wake him, he cherished soft intimate moments like this between the ache of blood and war, almost as much as you cherished fleeting rest and sleep. Techno needed sleep too, though. Retirement wouldn't last forever - savoring things now when they were stable and certain gave way to a sense of hopefulness, as if the world could stay like this forever and you didn't need to think of sharpening your sword for tomorrow's enemies. Techno needed all the strength he could get and more importantly, all the rest he could get.
The purring had eventually made you sleepy much like how a cat's purr could heal mental distress. The overwhelming sense of safety and comfort encapsulated your entire being and the night bore witness to your promise: Technoblade would never find himself without your stability, your comfort. Even when he came home soaked in blood, even when he cried and yelled out to a higher being to relieve him of his afflictions and curses, you would be there as his rock or shield to hold him close and keep him warm. You would always be there for him as he would always be there for you.
The sky above Manberg hung heavy with dark clouds, turning the afternoon light dull and gray. From the balcony of your small wooden house overlooking the central square, you could see the entire crowd gathered around the large stage that had been built for the election announcement. Colorful banners fluttered in the wind, but the atmosphere felt anything but celebratory. Something about the air felt wrong, tense, like the calm before a storm.
At the center of it all stood Jschlatt, his posture arrogant and triumphant as he gripped the podium. His voice carried across the square through the microphone, echoing off the buildings and stone paths of the city.
You leaned against the balcony railing, your fingers tightening slightly around the rough wood as you watched him. Below, sitting in the front rows among the crowd, were TommyInnit and Wilbur Soot. Even from this distance, you could see how rigid their bodies were, how their shoulders seemed tense as they listened to the speech.
Your chest felt tight.
When the election results had first been announced, something in your stomach had twisted uneasily. Schlatt wasn’t someone who won quietly. If he had power now, he was going to use it.
And everyone knew it.
Schlatt raised his arms dramatically, his grin wide and smug.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Manberg!” he shouted, his voice full of pride and mock celebration. “Your new president has arrived!”
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Some people celebrated genuinely, others clapped hesitantly, clearly unsure of what this new leadership would bring.
You watched silently, your grip on the railing tightening.
Schlatt basked in the noise for a few moments before raising a hand to quiet the crowd. Slowly, the cheers faded into murmurs.
“Now,” he continued, his tone dropping slightly as his eyes scanned the people before him. “Before we move forward with this glorious new era of Manberg…”
Something about the way he said it made a cold shiver run down your spine.
“There are a few… problems we need to take care of.”
Your heart skipped.
Schlatt leaned closer to the microphone.
“I want TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot…”
He paused deliberately, letting the tension build.
Then he said your name.
“And Y/N.”
Your stomach dropped.
Schlatt’s smile widened into something cruel.
“Get them out of Manberg.”
The crowd murmured in confusion.
Then Schlatt shrugged casually, as if what he was about to say meant nothing at all.
“Or kill them.”
For a single heartbeat, the entire square fell silent.
Then chaos erupted.
Tommy shot to his feet instantly, knocking his chair backward in his rush to escape. Wilbur grabbed his arm and the two of them ran through the crowd, shoving past confused citizens as guards and soldiers quickly began to react.
You saw Punz push through the crowd, already chasing after them. Nearby, Sapnap followed closely behind, his sword drawn as he sprinted through the streets.
Your breathing quickened.
They were coming for you too.
Without wasting another second, you rushed back inside your house and slammed the balcony door shut behind you. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs as you hurried across the room, your mind racing.
You needed a weapon.
Your hands shook slightly as you grabbed the sword leaning against the wall near the staircase. It was heavier than you remembered, the metal cold and unfamiliar in your grip. You had never been much of a fighter. The sword felt awkward in your hands, like something that belonged to someone else entirely.
But right now, it was the only thing standing between you and death.
You took a deep breath and began moving down the stairs, your footsteps quick but cautious.
Halfway down, you froze.
Someone was standing in your living room.
Your heart lurched painfully as you recognized the tall figure immediately.
Dream.
Your eyes widened in shock and fear.
He stood calmly in the center of the room, as if he had all the time in the world, his mask staring directly at you. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.
Your grip tightened around the sword.
“Please,” you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to stay calm. “Spare me.”
Dream didn’t respond.
Instead, he began walking toward you slowly.
Each step echoed softly against the wooden floor, the sound making your chest tighten further.
Before you could react, he suddenly reached forward and grabbed your face roughly, his gloved hand gripping your jaw and forcing your head upward so you were looking directly into the blank expression of his mask.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Instinct took over.
You swung the sword.
But Dream’s reflexes were far faster than yours.
His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist mid-swing. The sudden force stopped your movement completely, and before you could pull away, he twisted your wrist sharply.
Pain shot through your arm like lightning.
You cried out, the sword slipping from your fingers as it clattered loudly against the floor.
Dream leaned closer, his grip still firm on your wrist.
“You can stay alive,” he said calmly.
Your breathing was uneven now, your chest rising and falling quickly as fear curled tightly in your stomach.
“All you have to do,” Dream continued, his voice steady and cold, “is betray Tommy and Wilbur.”
Your eyes hardened instantly.
The pain in your wrist barely mattered anymore.
“No.”
Dream tilted his head slightly.
“They’re family,” you said firmly, your voice shaking but determined. “I’m not betraying them.”
For a moment, Dream said nothing.
Then suddenly, he released your wrist.
“You have ten seconds,” he said.
Your eyes widened.
“To get out of Manberg.”
You didn’t hesitate.
You turned and ran.
Bursting through your front door, you sprinted down the street as fast as your legs could carry you. Your lungs burned as the cold air rushed into them, your boots pounding against the ground as you headed straight for the forest outside the city.
Branches whipped against your arms and cloak as you pushed through the trees.
Then, against your better judgment, you glanced back.
Your heart nearly stopped.
Dream was already behind you.
He moved through the forest effortlessly, closing the distance between you far too quickly.
Panic surged through your body.
You ran faster, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as the forest grew thicker around you.
Then suddenly—
The ground vanished beneath your feet.
You skidded to a stop just inches from the edge of a cliff.
Your heart pounded wildly as you slowly turned around.
Dream stood several meters away.
Then he ran at you.
The speed caught you completely off guard.
His sword flashed through the air.
Pain exploded across your side as the blade sliced into you. Before you could react, another strike cut across your neck, warm blood spilling down your skin and soaking into your cloak.
Your vision blurred.
Dream raised his sword again.
But your foot slipped.
You stumbled backward.
And fell.
The fall felt endless.
Then darkness.
Pain dragged you back into consciousness.
Your eyes slowly opened as you lay at the bottom of the cliff, the world around you spinning slightly. Snowflakes drifted gently through the air, settling on the ground and on your blood-stained clothing.
Your head throbbed painfully.
Your right arm ached terribly, and the wounds along your side and neck still burned with every breath you took.
You forced yourself to sit up, though the movement made your vision swim.
You couldn’t stay here.
Dream might come looking.
Slowly, painfully, you began walking.
After several minutes of struggling through the forest, you spotted something ahead.
A wagon.
It sat on a rail line cutting through the snowy terrain.
You didn’t know where it led.
But it led away from Manberg.
And that was enough.
You climbed inside the wagon and pushed it forward with the last bit of strength you had. At first the wheels rolled slowly along the rails, creaking softly as they moved.
Then the wagon hit a redstone rail.
Suddenly it shot forward.
Cold air rushed around you as the wagon sped through the snowy biome, the wind biting against your injured body. You curled into a small ball in the corner of the wagon, your cloak wrapped tightly around you as exhaustion finally overtook you.
Your eyes slowly closed.
You woke later to silence.
The wagon had stopped.
Snow stretched endlessly in every direction.
You climbed out slowly, your legs shaking beneath you.
The cold seeped through your clothes as you looked around, searching desperately for any sign of civilization.
There was none.
Still, you began walking.
Each step grew heavier than the last, your wounds leaving faint drops of blood in the snow behind you.
Eventually, your legs gave out completely.
You collapsed into the snow, the cold biting into your skin.
Your vision blurred as darkness slowly crept in.
And finally, you lost consciousness.
Not far away, Technoblade and Philza moved quietly through the snowy forest while hunting.
Philza stopped suddenly.
“Techno.”
Technoblade turned toward him.
“What?”
Phil pointed down at the ground.
A trail of blood.
They followed it through the forest, the crimson stains standing out starkly against the white snow.
The trail eventually led them to a figure lying motionless beneath a tree.
You.
Technoblade stopped walking.
Inside his head, the voices immediately erupted.
SAVE HER.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD—
WAIT NO NOT HER.
OMG A WOMAN.
SHE’S PRETTY.
BLOOD.
Technoblade pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Shut up,” he muttered quietly.
Philza crouched beside you, gently checking your pulse.
“She’s alive,” he said after a moment.
Technoblade looked down at you.
Your breathing was shallow, your skin pale from blood loss, your body half buried in snow.
The voices screamed again.
SAVE HER.
Technoblade sighed heavily.
Then he bent down and carefully lifted you into his arms.
“Let’s take her home.”
Philza nodded.
And together, they carried you back through the silent snowy forest.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
*cracks knuckles* Aight, ive for my first request!!!! Hopefully this is an actually good one lol, it just popped into my head while I was tryna wake up lolz.
Uhh basically reader goes away on a trip for whatever reason, and surprised C!Quackity when they return??? Uhh idk all in all fluffy stuff... Thank you!!!!!!^^
₊‧°𐐪 C!Quackity x GN!Reader 𐑂°‧₊.
"And I promise that one day l'll
feel alright
And I'll make a cup of coffee
With the right amount of sugar
How you like it"
Summary: After being away for a week, you finally return to Las Nevadas and are greeted by a very relieved Quackity, who practically tackles you into a hug after missing you the entire painful week. To make things better, you surprise him with a box of souvenirs from your trip to the neighbouring country, including a little duck trinket that immediately makes him overjoyed.
A/N: OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ANON. THIS IDEA WAS SO CUTE UIFNFJVNEJOF. Lwk my heart can't overload this much cuteness. The whole time I was cooing, giggling, and being delulu while writing, I had so much fun writing this. Also, shout out to my friend for suggesting the duck trinket thingy! Had been on it since this morning, and rn it's 10:54 pm. So if we do the math right, 9 hours. DAMN. I'm giggling. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and it's what you hopefully were looking for! Also i left it to the readers whether they wanna view this fic as platonic or romantic.
Seven days. One week.
A hundred and sixty-eight hours.
Not that Quackity was counting, he absolutely was.
The first day had been manageable, to say the least. He had rolled his eyes and, of course, thrown a childish tantrum over it when you'd announced that you were leaving Las Nevadas for a little while. For what? Dream XD forbids; no living being can be sure. This is how unpredictably chaotic you were to him.
"A week?" He had repeated it, almost sounding offended.
"Just a week."
"A week is seven days." Quackity deadpanned, and to his annoyance, you dared to grin at him as if he had just won a one-thousand-dollar lottery.
"Congratulations! You know your days." You patted him on his shoulder.
"I know how many days are in a week, dumbass." He hissed, swatting at your hand.
"Then why are you acting like it's the end of the world?"
Well, first of all to begin with... Because it felt like it. And maybe it was. But he never said that out loud. Hell, he'd eat dirt but admit it out loud.
Instead, he bratily crossed his arms and complained for another ten minutes while you laughed at him.
You had left anyway. Traitor. Quackity just huffed and said to himself who cares, it's only just a week.
Yeah, well, he underestimated that, unfortunately.
Quackity had spent the following week trying very hard not to think about it. About the emptiness you left behind. How he missed your nosy questions. The way you laughed a bit too loudly each time he'd crack a dry joke. And whatever else related to you.
Which was difficult.
Because suddenly everything reminded him of you.
Even the silence felt wrong. It's not even the tranquil silence you expect after a rough day. But a heavy one. Like something is missing; in this case, it's you.
Las Nevadas was never exactly quiet, but your absence left behind a noticeable gap. A space only you seemed capable of filling. And Quackity isn't a big fan of it at all. Call him dramatic, but he'd rather have you eat his brain off with your talkativeness than endure painful silence.
By day three, Quackity was convinced you had somehow gotten yourself into trouble. Like 'getting captured by aliens' or 'being shot to death out of nowhere' type trouble.
By day four, he was debating whether or not sending a search party would make him seem overly attached. Or maybe he'd be the better choice to go and drag your clumsy ass back home.
By day five, he had already planned three different rescue missions. Three of them were equally horribly planned. But who cares? It's the thought that counts, roght?
'Just in case... yep.' That's what he told himself while halfway through a dramatic panic attack.
Not that he'd ever admit it. He's taking this information with him to his grave.
By day six, he was pacing around his office so much that even Sam had started looking concerned. DO YOU EVEN HEAR THAT?!
Then your letter arrived, much to his relief. Quackity had nearly ripped it in half trying to open it. And there it was inside, your messy, familiar, yet weirdly comforting handwriting.
You'd be back in two days. That's what you wrote: short and simple.
Two. Days.
Two more freaking days.
For the first time all week, Quackity actually smiled. A real smile, one that showed his dimples and where the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling from the flood of relief and pure happiness.
The kind that softened his features and made him look younger than he usually allowed himself to appear.
"Finally," He muttered excitedly, almost vibrating. Too excited for his liking, but at the moment, he was lost to the news.
The wait somehow became worse because now he knew exactly when you'd be arriving. And every hour dragged on. Every minute felt twice as long.
When the day finally came, Quackity had been pretending to work, keyword: pretending.
The paperwork in front of him hadn't been touched in nearly forty minutes. Then one of his workers mentioned seeing a familiar figure approaching Las Nevadas. And that was all he needed to know.
The chair nearly tipped over behind him. He was already halfway out the door before anyone could finish their sentence.
You had barely crossed into the main area before you spotted him, marching toward you with enough determination to start a war or maybe a conversation that would last forever, judging by his expression, you couldn't tell honestly.
You opened your mouth, about to either greet or question him, "Qua—", that was as far as you got before his arms wrapped around you so quickly that your feet nearly left the ground. The impact knocked the breath right out of you.
"QUACKITY!!"
"Oh my God," he muttered immediately, but it came out muffled, buried somewhere against your shoulder like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.
His arms were tight around you, almost too tight, like he was trying to make up for every second you weren't there just by holding you closer. You could feel the way he was breathing, a little uneven, eyes delighted, like he had been holding it in for too long and only now remembered how to let it out.
"You were gone forever," He said, and even though it was dramatic, there was something real underneath it that made your chest feel weird in a soft way.
You let out a breathless laugh, still half stuck in the shock of it all.
"I was gone only for a week," You reminded him, though it came out weaker than you meant it to.
"A week is forever," He shot back immediately, like it was the most obvious fact in the world.
"It literally isn't," You remarked back, but there was no real bite to it, not when he was still holding you like you might disappear again if he blinked wrong. At the moment, you almost felt guilty for leaving. Almost.
"You abandoned me," He added, pulling back just enough to look at you, though his hands didn’t leave your shoulders.
"I sent a letter," You argued, trying not to smile too much at how serious he looked.
"You sent only to let me know when you'd be coming back," He replied with a frown, like that was a crime.
"That's enough to let you know I'm coming back, and not abandoning you," You insisted, scoffing softly at his antics.
"No, it isn't," He replied instantly, completely convinced.
That finally broke you. You laughed this time, the kind that made your shoulders shake a little as you leaned into him without even thinking about it.
The sound made him squeeze you tighter, way too tight, like he was trying to make up for a whole week in one hug. You wheezed out his name a couple times, "Quackity… Quackity, I need my ribs," and that finally got a snort out of him. He loosened his grip just a little, but not enough to convince you he was done being dramatic.
When he finally pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders like he was double-checking you were real. His eyes immediately started scanning you up and down, serious in that overprotective way he gets when he’s trying not to panic. "You okay?" He asked fast.
"Yes."
"You sure?" He asked again, sceptical.
"Yes, i promise."
"Nothing happened?"
"Nothing happened." You confirmed softly.
"No one attacked you?"
"Not at all."
"You didn’t fall off a cliff, did you?"
"No!" You replied instantly, huffing as if the mere question of falling like some rookie sounded ridiculous to you.
"You didn't get kidnapped?"
"No."
"Start a revolution?"
Now that seemed to make you hesitate for half a second, "...No."
His eyes narrowed instantly, "Why did you hesitate?"
"I didn't!"
"You definitely did!"
You laughed again, and he went quiet for a second like he forgot what he was mad about. Then he cleared his throat, trying to act normal again, but his hands didn't leave your shoulders.
That's when he finally noticed the box. Wrinkled, too-colourful paper, crooked ribbon, very clearly 'I tried my best' energy radiating from it. "What's that?" He asked, suddenly curious.
You lit up immediately, remembering its existence finally. "Oh, right! I brought you something."
"A gift?" He repeated, suspicious already.
"Mayyybeee."
"That's concerning..."
"It'll make sense if you open it."
He took it like it might bite him, shooting you a look like he fully expected it to explode or contain something illegal—Ironic, given who's speaking, "You look scared," You teased.
"I'm being cautious," He protested immediately, "You once put a chicken in my office."
"It was funny."
"It nested on my desk and laid eggs."
You were still laughing—almost wheezing due to the number of times you'd laughed so far—when he finally opened it, and for a second he looked ready for a prank. But then he actually saw what was inside.
Souvenirs.
Little things from your trip. Carefully packed, like you actually thought about him the whole time you were gone. His teasing just… stopped. Gone.
And then he found the duck.
A tiny, bright yellow trinket. Probably clay made and hand painted.
"Oh my God," He gasped, or well, squeaking at the sight of it.
"I knew you'd like that one," You said proudly, placing your hands on your hips with that smug look of yours.
"It's a duck!"
"Thanks, i knew—"
"It's literally me."
"Pretty much."
He turned it over in his hands, and then he laughed in disbelief and admiration, the kind he doesn’t do in front of everyone. For a second, everything around Las Nevadas just faded out.
"You didn't have to do all this," He spoke, a little quieter now.
"I wanted to, though," You shrugged, like it was no big deal. Because it really wasn't.
That did something to him. You could see it in the way he looked at the box filled with souvenirs and the duck trinket again, then at you, like he was trying not to feel too much at once.
"A week," He muttered, mostly to himself.
"What about it?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed together, as you stared at him, confused.
"You're not doing that again. Period. No talk."
You groaned, "Here we go."
"I'm serious," he argued, but there was no real bite in it. Just worry pretending to be attitude. "I was worried."
That made you pause, but you quickly masked the reaction by bumping his shoulder playfully, "Hey, I'm back."
And that was enough for him to breathe peacefully, knowing you're still here. Still standing.
His expression softened, and before you could even tease him about it, he pulled you back into his side, arm around your shoulders like it belonged there. "Good," He said simply.
You giggled at his response, "There he is!"
"Shut up."
"Nuh uh."
"Fine," he grumbled, tightening his hold just a little more than he meant to, "But you're staying where I can see you. Got it?"
You rolled your eyes, but you didn't move away.
Because honestly?
You missed him just as much as he missed you.
And the duck stayed in his hand the whole way back into Las Nevadas, like he wasn't planning on letting go of it or you anytime soon. And you don't blame him at all for it.
what about a mcyt x reader headcannon where reader is like a streamer who mostlly plays roblox andlike she cant even kill a zombie in minecraft cause im big on roblox and i js do creative in minecraft!
Thanks for the request! I love doing these!
Various!Myct x Fem!Reader
Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, Caseoh, and tommyinnit
Quackity
-Quackity would definitely play roblox with you
-Quackity likes terrorizing little kids on any roblox game you guys play.
-Definitely hides behind you in horror games and beg you to go first.
-“NO NO I CANT GO!” he would yell with fake sadness and fear as he hides his character behind yours.
-In any combat game or any game where you can kill other players , he stays spawn camping you, he definitely targets you. until you finally kill him and he gets salty about it lmao
-He hates streaming it because fans keep trying to join and lagging whatever game you guys are playing.
Karl jacob’s
-Karl loves roblox, he probably begs you to play with him.
-Karl only likes the obbys though, like the goofy “2000 levels!” or the cart ride games.
-will definitely get sapnap to play with you guys, and it ends up with them jumping you in every game.
-Yall definitely stay up all night playing games and yelling about them over a discord call, The stream is like 6 hours atp
Sapnap
-Sapnap didn’t want to at first. thought he was too good for a “children’s game”
-Once you showed him the home page and all the games you and your fans like he caved.
-He has a love for the shooter and racing games. always making you play at least 3 rounds with him if you guys log onto roblox.
-Hates obbys. absolutely despises them, definitely complaining about every time you or Karl have the audacity to mutter the word “Obby”
-Secretly loves dress to impress, he will never admit it though
CaseOh (why not)
-100% yes. if anything he’s asking you to play roblox with him
-caseoh isn’t the best at minecraft either so you’re not alone
-He makes you play dress to impress for HOURSS
-he’s definitely down for horror games, loves playing the Mimic, even though he rages at it so much.
Tommyinnit
-Definitely takes some convincing
-He’s traumatized from the few times he’s played with Schlatt and jack
-He only plays the stupid games that make zero sense
