It's one thing flying out to another country and spending a week in your best friend's home, but it's another thing if you're in love with said best friend. That's a whole different story, but luckily, that's what this story is about. -------- Cross-posted from AO3 under the same account name. My friend Pi drew the cover for me and I'm so blessed!!! Please check them out on Tumblr: https://prettyinaccurate.tumblr.com/ and/or Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/prettyinaccurate/

The door opened, and you were faced with a young man about your age. He filled the whole doorframe with his height, though he was kind of lanky looking. A few brown fluffy curls stuck out from underneath his beanie, and he wore glasses, looking down at you. "Oh, you are rather tall." You said, the words slipping out of you before you could stop yourself. You clamped your mouth shut before the rest of the thought could slip out as well - he was rather fit, too. He blinked quizzically. "Um, sorry?"

in a 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 where ᴛᴡᴏ streamers ➨ 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 for each other via a 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 ↣✯ and find much more in 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃 than they'd 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 expect if will or anyone else mentioned in this story says they're uncomfortable with something i'll change it/delete it/delete the story in general tw: depression, anxiety, mentions of self harm/sexual assault/suicide, slightly violent language she/her pronouns y/n = your name y/s/n = your streamer nickname impressive rankings: #456 on #dream #2 on #wilbursootxreader #397 on #dreamsmp #193 on #mcyt milestones (in reads) 1k - jan 9th 2021 5k - feb 5th 2021 10k- feb 19th 2021 15k- march 2nd 2021 20k- march 8th 2021 25k- march 14th 2021 50k- april 12th 2021 100k- june 6th 2021 started: dec 28th 2020

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. ... 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴀ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ɴᴇᴡ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ. Dream looked at the dead body, who soon faded away. He blinked, before sighing and going back to L'manberg. Not before grabbing her sword, and most of her belongings she's left behind though. Somewhere rather far away, laid an unconsciousness figure leaning on a tree. She possessed beautiful y/h/c y/h/l hair, which seemed to dance in the light breeze. She wore a clean gray sweatshirt with the initials W.D in bold white letters were in-scripted. The jeans she had on were slightly ripped, and she wore simple sneakers. Her skin was translucent, revealing the oak tree through her arms. She seemed perfectly at peace, and didn't seem to be injured much. There were a few minor scars on her legs that looked to be bleeding, but it wasn't trickling. It was practically frozen. A bit odd if you ask me. But judging by the looks of it, she seemed to be a 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 '𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸'. Cover art: @PenWingStar on Deviantart 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐒𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭.)

𝓐 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕕𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟, 𝕒 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥, 𝕚𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙. ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ "𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣?" "𝕀'𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕗𝕖." ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ Technoblade x Reader ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ I'm so sorry to the people who know me and are reading this. Please feel free to print, translate, and share this story to others. It's meant to be shared ❤️