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anniebrainrots · 3 years

Text

Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past.

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warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n

wc: 3.2k

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,)

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You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin.

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off.

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it.

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him.

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back.

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come.

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him.

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it.

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else.

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations. It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out.

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?”

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?”

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him.

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night.

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed.

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could.

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age.

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?”

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.”

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort.

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time.

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months.

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies.

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed.

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused.

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had.

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks.

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down.

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages.

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace.

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent.

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?”

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.”

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind.

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory.

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.”

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—”

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?”

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?”

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’.

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother.

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.”

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep.

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment.

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.”

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops.

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil.

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him.

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse.

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks.

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person.

“I know.”

#techno x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #c!techno #dream smp techno #sbi family dynamic #sleepy bois x reader #sbi x reader #technoblade

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anniebrainrots · 3 years

Text

Visit

In which you visit Dream to get the revival book.

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warnings: sadistic! reader, slight mention of torture

wc: 2.5k

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“And what is your relationship with the prisoner?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and the burning stare the warden gave you would have given you goosebumps hadn’t you known him before.

You gave him a smirk, sharp canines glinting dangerously in the low light of the prison. “Oh, come on, Sammy. You know who I am, already, why are we even bothering with the formalities, hm? Just let me see him.”

“Answer the question properly, please.”

You pouted, even if he was the guard of a maximum security prison and was known as some unyielding and heartless warden, Sam was still as polite as ever.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed much, Sam.” You put a finger to your chin and pretended to think, “hmm, I guess he was a friend? An ally?”

The man squinted at you before scribbling something in a book. “And lastly, why are you visiting the prisoner today?”

You chuckled inwardly at the extensive procedures, but deep down your brain was frustrated and impatient; but still, you just smiled and tried to get everything over with.

“Just wanna visit and talk to him, ‘s all.”

Sam hummed, closing the book. “Very well. Follow me.” He led you down a hallway that opened up to your left, making you whistle in amazement.

“Heard from Sap that you built this prison by Dream’s request, gotta hand it to ‘ya buddy, you did a great job. Kinda ironic that Dream’s gonna spend the rest of his life rotting here, though.” You walked with a confident strut, arms raised and folded behind your head as you continued down the dark hallway of blackstone.

He deliberately ignored your last statement, “thank you for the compliment.”

You reached a room with four doors and he took you to the one farthest on the left. There was an ender chest to the farthest wall and a chest labeled ‘Locker 1”. “Dispense all your items in the chest and wait for the key to come out. Put that key in your ender chest and we can head to the cells.”

You followed all of his instructions mutely, the looming energy of the prison finally settling into your bones. The next few steps involved getting splashed with various potions and walking through various hallways of lava, water, and blackstone. You couldn’t wait to see him, after all you heard from the outside, you wanted to hear straight from the source.

Soon enough, you reached a room in which one wall was fully encased in lava. He tells you that Dream would be standing on the other side of the wall and you felt your fingers twitch in excitement.

“You sure about this?”

You rolled your eyes at that. Of course that would be the first thing he would ask you as himself rather than the warden. “Yes I’m sure, Sammy. Why, you think this is a bad idea?”

“No, I just—alright, just face the lava wall, it should come down soon.”

The man sighed, looking at you with defeat in his eyes before he turned to the wall behind him and pulled a lever.

You hummed but didn’t respond, following his instructions quietly. It took a while for it to fully settle, so you opted to hum a song.

“What are you planning on doing?”

You were barely halfway through the L’manburg anthem before cutting yourself short. You answer without looking back.

“What do you mean? I told you I was just paying an old friend a visit, right?” You turn your head slightly to the side, looking at him from the corner of your eyes behind you.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. Since you entered the prison, this was the most casual he looked. “I mean it, Red. Why did you come back?”

You smirked at the nickname. ‘The Red Queen’, you were known as. Rumors had spread about your ‘violent behaviors’ when you were traveling with Dream, thus earning you the nickname which your old friends couldn’t help but tease you with. You guessed that the name stuck with some people more than others.

You gave him a slight shrug, turning back to the lava. “Maybe I just wanted to see it for myself, the bastard finally rotting in a place worse than hell.”

He didn’t answer, and you didn’t care enough to listen if he did because the lava finally fell to a point where you could see a tuft of dirty blond hair in the distance. When the burning liquid finally settled at the bottom, you could see him standing there from behind the netherite blocks.

Sam told you to stand on the platform and you listened, fists clenching as you slowly approached the prison cell. The man inside the obsidian cell looks at you with cold eyes, similar to what you remember from outside the prison, though a lot more empty as opposed to being filled with power-hungry rage. You took a first step on the obsidian before the platform behind you retracts back and the lava falls back from behind you.

The netherite barrier sunk into the ground, letting you walk around the tiny cell freely. You hummed at the sparse decorations: a chest, a desk, and a clock with a tiny note on it that said ‘Do not burn’.

Your green-eyed friend judged you from his sitting position on the floor, following your movements with squinted eyes. “What are you doing here?”

You stopped your aimless wandering, turning to him with a sigh. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Is it weird for an old friend to come visit every once in a while? I was here when you founded the SMP.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, “you betrayed me.”

You shrugged at that, though something in you became slightly ticked off at the accusation. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Let’s agree to disagree.”

“Why are you here?” He repeated.

You sighed in mock sadness. “You’re just like Sammy out there. Not even a ‘hello’? Or a ‘long time no see’? Or a—you know, you used to call me by a nickname. What was it?” You paced up and down the small room. Of course, you were only messing with him, you couldn’t resist antagonizing him, after all.

“Flower. Why are you here?”

“Ah, yes. Flower! You used to call me that all the time,” you smile down at him, aura turning sinister and deadly. You pulled out the chair from his desk before settling it against the wall on the opposite side of the man. His mask was on the table next to a closed book, one of the few things he got to keep in his cell besides his precious clock that, from the looks of it, was not very precious to him at all.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Dream. I heard you have a little trick up your sleeve. A revival book. I’m gonna kindly ask that you hand it over to me. Take it as a gift for your dear ol’ pal.” Despite the playful nature of your words, Dream felt a chill run up his spine.

Still, not one to back down, he smirked back at you with equal heat. “I burned the book, Red. There’s no physical remnants of it in this world.”

You hummed, swinging your legs back and forth. You smiled at him with a tilt to your head, “then teach me how to do it.”

Dream rolled his eyes and scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “No.” There was nothing that he could gain from it.

“Not even if I help you break out of here?”

The way Dream paused made you produce a smile he couldn’t see. The man contemplated your words, mulling them over, weighing the consequences. He wasn’t going to lie, he has thought about calling you and asking for your help to break out of the prison. His plans to escape had to involve people from the outside, and he thought you were a powerful enough ally to do just the job. But, he thought, that the knowledge of the revival book was too powerful, too expensive to give for the exchange for his freedom that wouldn’t even be complete. Even if he did escape, there would be people constantly hunting him down until eventually, he would run out of tricks.

He sighed in defeat at his own thinking, sure that you thought of these scenarios as well, judging from the way you turned to him with a smug look.

“No,” he finally said. He also had that favor to cash in with Technoblade; and as far as he knew, no matter how strong you were, that Technoblade would be even stronger. “Besides, Quackity’s been asking for the same thing, and he’s torturing me to have it. If I haven’t even given it to him, what makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

You pouted, getting off the chair and walking over to the lava. You put your palm as close to the lava as you could bear, intense heat warming your hands instantly as you ponder over his words.

Dream was sure he finally got you. Even if you were to torture him and hurt him, he has gone through enough to block out the pain. You could never do worse than Quackity.

“I heard Sapnap visited you a while ago.” That perked the man upright from his slouching position, narrowing his eyes at you with a glare that you chose to ignore. “I saw him on my way to the prison. He said he stops by the prison from time to time, just to make sure you haven’t escaped. How does that feel, Dream? When one of your closest friends wants you to stay rotting in this place?”

Dream’s fists clenched in anger, heat simpering through his bones as you continued to talk like nothing was the matter. He would’ve loved to throw you into the lava, but the fight in him dwindled as he was worn down by the prison, and he has long since accepted his fate.

“You know, when I came in, Sam made me sign a visiting book or something. Made me sign my name n’ shit. I saw a few familiar names, some new ones. But, I didn’t see a name I thought for sure I would see.”

Dream felt his heart drop to his stomach, already knowing who you had in mind. A shadow loomed over him, making him feel smaller than he had ever felt. His hard expression crumbled as he looked up at you, crouching in front of him with a grin on your face. He never felt more like prey, like a lamb to the slaughter, more than sitting here in front of you.

You took his silence as your cue to continue, “George hasn’t visited you at all, hasn’t he?” There it was, the final hit to complete the combo. Dream, instead of growing angry and lashing out, slumped farther into the wall as if to hide himself from your snake-like grip on his mind. You stood up, going back to pacing the wall back and forth as you continued to monologue.

“I saw him on my way here, too. He had this cute little mushroom hat that—he told me—came from the kingdom that he started with Sapnap and this guy named Karl. Lots of new faces and names around here, Dream. Anyways, I made some small talk with Georgie, it was a miracle I even saw him, do you remember how he was always asleep? You could never make that guy attend any important events in his life.” You shook your head at the fond memory, glancing at Dream from the corner of your eyes, seeing his head still leaned down and staring at the ground. Still, you knew he was listening to you.

“I saw XD there, you know. What’s that about? He calls himself a benevolent god with an unforgiving nature, but in the end he’s just a guy with powers who has himself wrapped around Georgie’s fingers. Who could blame him, though? George is very charming. Now, pop quiz. How can you hurt a man who is blessed by a god?”

Dream’s head turned to you sharply, glaring at you with eyes full of heat. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it or I swear to god I will make you regret it.”

You continued to pace, unbothered by what he said. “Incorrect! You lose a point for that one. The correct answer is—”, you stopped in front of Dream, “you make him reject the god, then when he’s alone, you attack.”

You took a seat on the chair from across Dream, holding yourself up with your arms as you leaned forward as if to taunt the man sitting in front of you. Speaking of, he hasn’t stopped glaring at you, and it made you giggle excitedly to yourself. Good, this is good, you were getting a reaction which meant you were breaking him.

You stretched your arms above your head with a stifled yawn, “I’ll kill him.”

That’s it? You mentioned the revive book earlier so you must know that he can just bring George back to life. To your threat, Dream scoffed, “I can just bring him back.”

You smiled knowingly, “I know. Which is why I’ll just have to drag it out, I’ll kill him so painfully slow, then when he goes you’ll just bring him back. Then we repeat until you give up.”

Dream felt as if his world stopped. His best friend, dying by the hands of someone he used to admire, to cherish? He tried to respond, to deny, to say something. But he couldn’t, and all that would leave his lips were stutters that made you smile.

You crouched in front of him again, and this time his heart skipped a beat. Out of fear? He wasn’t sure, but he felt like something akin to an animal who’s been cornered with nothing to lose.

“I can just see it, Dream. You sitting right where you are, watching me hurt our little Georgie. He’ll start to beg me. Beg me to stop, to just kill him and end it. But, I won’t. And you won’t stop bringing him back, either.”

You took your hand and brought it up to Dream’s hair, the first time you’ve touched him since you entered the prison. You brought his head up so he was looking up at you, giving him the perfect view of your face.

“Then eventually, Dream, he’ll stop begging me.” You gripped his hair a bit tighter, “and he’ll start begging you. To make it stop, for you to stop bringing him back so he doesn’t have to go through all that pain anymore. I wonder, Dream, if you’ll be able to do that.”

For the first time, you could see Dream’s eyes well up with tears, making you giddy with power.

“Please, don’t.” He whispered, the shake in his voice prominent as he tried to hold back sobs.

You leaned in close to his ears, and you noticed he’s shaking. “So, what will it be, Dream?”

#dream x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #george x reader #dream mcyt #george mcyt

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