ᴇᴛʜᴇʀᴇᴀʟ-technoblade x reader

here comes trouble

Running as fast as you could, waving your staff across your feet to make them move even faster, you listened out for another noise, an indication of where the hell that explosion came from. There was the twang of a bow being pulled and released, the arrow hitting the ground with a loud thunk, and you sprinted towards the noise, hiding behind a tree.

The familiar noises of the pillagers surrounded you, their voices taunting the poor soul who they had found. There was a pillage tower nearby, but you always steered clear of them-everyone knew what they were like.

Scanning over the area, you lost count of how many there were, all of them swarming together, some with ridiculous banners attached to the body, commanding the rest to attack.

Even with the sheer number of pillagers, the person they were attacking was doing remarkably well.

You turned your attention to him, raising an eyebrow at their choice of clothing. A red cloak hung from his shoulders, the white trim caked in dust and mud. Just as you were silently judging him, he threw the cloak off, throwing it to the side without care, not even caring when the pillagers stomped over it.

He still had even more questionable fashion choices.

He was wearing a white shirt, frills around the neck, a single ribbon tied around the collar, paired with dress pants, white boots digging into the ground as he ducked and weaved around arrows. A crown rested on top of pink hair, which was carefully tied into a single plait, swinging around while he fought, the crown somehow staying firmly in place. You managed to laugh at that, somehow, the idea of fighting in that kind of gear seeming ridiculous to you.

"Fuck-"

Your eyes widened, time seeming to go slowly as an arrow embedded into his arm, blood spurting out from where it hit, splattering onto the floor, staining the grass. Gulping, you watched the pillagers loom closer and closer, their weapons glinting. The fighter jumped to their feet, still holding his sword, even as blood stained his white shirt.

Gripping your staff, you bit your lip nervously. You hadn't fought in years.

"GET DOWN!" you cried out, jumping into the crowd of pillagers, gritting your teeth and focusing on your magic. Landing right in front of the fighter, you offered them a small smile, before hitting your staff against the ground. The whole ordeal felt foreign to you, your magic being used for nothing more than farming for years, adrenaline rushing through your entire body.

"Relinquo." You only whispered the word, staff placed firmly onto the ground.

A gust of wind whipped out from where you were standing, circling around you for a few moments before moving out, the trees whistling at the sheer force of your magic. Several strangled cries were drowned out by the wind, blood rushing into your ears, everything sounding muffled to you anyway.

And then it all stopped.

You didn't even notice your eyes had been firmly shut, muscles tensed in your face to keep them that way. Opening them slowly, you blinked, expecting to see the passed out bodies of the pillagers surrounding you-that was the only thing you were able to do really, your magic wasn't strong enough to kill...supposedly.

There was nothing but dust.

"What the-"

Interrupting yourself, you turned around, searching for the fighter from before, letting out a small gasp when you saw his unconscious body on the floor, a pool of red surrounding his limp body. Had you killed him too?

Leaning in closer, you saw his chest moving up and down, practically collapsing in relief when you realised that. You must've cast a protective spell over him without realising.

Feeling shaky, you gazed at the dust piles on the ground, watching as the wind picked some up and took it away-literal particles of people floating away with the wind. But did the pillagers really count as people?

"Wait, since when am I so...strong?" you paused, looking around until your eyes fell onto the red cloak, carelessly chucked onto the ground. "That's not important."

Picking up the cloak, you tapped your staff on him twice, sighing when he slowly floated up-like he was on a stretcher that didn't exist. You started to run back towards the house, him following you from behind, eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

He better not cause trouble.