Work Text:
The slamming of the front door to your small cottage-like home causes you to jump, almost falling off of the stool you're sitting in. You in turn slam your leather bound journal and your quill pen on the table before you, enraged at whoever has chosen to disturb your creative process. Then, you hear his voice, and your heart almost leaps into your throat.
“___? ___! I’m h-” You cut Techno off with an annoyed shout, and he chuckles in response, though you cannot hear. The piglin shifter follows the sound of your angry grumbling and stomping around til he finds you in your dining room, placing down a cup of tea on the area across from where your journal is. Techno stands in the doorway of the room until you finally, finally sit back down at your spot at the table. You wave your hand in a beckoning manner at the man at the door, trying to hide the way you shake with excitement and relief that he’s back.
“Go on, Blade. Seriously, you standing over there is making me all nervous and shit.” With that, the tall man takes large steps, seemingly eager to have a place to sit after his long journey. He’s quick to plop down on the seat you’d settled for him, not at all trying to be careful with your furniture despite the many times you’d told him to be before.
You don’t notice this though, already focused on the journal in front of you. You’re tapping the tip of the quill against the table, almost obnoxiously like you had been before Blade arrived. There’s an ink mark there, where you’ve tapped away for the past thirty minutes, and yet not a single drop of ink stains the page which you're so obviously annoyed at. Technoblade raises a neatly trimmed brow, running his thumb along the handle of his axe which is still held firmly in his hand.
“What’s up, Kid? Somethin’ on your mind..?” You put your quill down next to your book, pouting in what you hope isn’t an unflattering way before you admit to your woes. Techno listens of course, using his free hand to pick up the dainty tea cup with his clawed fingers and bringing it up to his lips. He sips the hot liquid as quietly as he can, so as not to annoy you further. In this moment, he catches your body shaking just barely. He decides not to mention it however. For now, anyways.
“It’s nothing you can help with.. Just a good old case of writers block, if you can believe it.” This causes the piglin lord to snort loudly, blood red eyes widening in surprise at your words. Pulling the cup away from his lips, Blade tries (and fails) to stop the incredulous grin from spreading across his face. You furrow your brows and tilt your head at the mans odd behavior.
“Wh.. What? Did I say something silly?” This causes Techno to laugh once again, a deep, hearty sound in his throat. He answers you, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“You do know I studied English literature for an extensive amount of time during my travels, right?” He asks, amused as you begin to stutter out an embarrassed reply.
“You’ve been away for six months, I’d forgotten! S.. So, you must remind me all that you’ve told me about those travels! It’s only fair.” This is met with a chortle from the man across the table. He places his axe down on the ground beside his chair, moving to run a hand through his tousled pale pink hair. Technoblade tugs at the bands that have been keeping his hair in place, and shakes his long braid out absentmindedly. He pauses, and smirks at you upon noticing your stare. Technoblade must take pleasure in picking on you, you think. Though he’ll never say it to your face, you are more than correct in this assumption.
“You missed me.” He states quietly, gesturing to your hands which are still trembling like the rest of you. You frown and look away quickly, too embarrassed by this to look the man in the eyes.
“Perhaps.”
“You missed me.”
“... I did.”
It comes as a shock to Blade when you admit this so softly, but he smiles nonetheless in a gentle manner, and leans back in his chair. His hands prop back behind his head, and he sighs.
“Muh. That’s... Cringe...” Techno’s elf-like ears twitch as he says this, eyeing your expression from where he’s seated. “Well, I suppose I could grace your feeble mind with some top tier writing advice, free of charge.” You bring your hands up to your mouth to try and hide your grin, letting out a small “Yaaayy!” which causes Technoblade to roll his eyes.
“Alright, Weirdo. Here’s the advice.” He pauses then, for dramatic effect, and-
“Just write.”
Silence follows for more than a minute. You slouch in your seat, mouth set in a thin line, expression not readable. Technoblade moves his hands to tap at his small tusks absently, shrugging his shoulders with an amused expression as you stare, so clearly unbothered by how you don’t understand. You guffaw at this, pointing at him and narrowing your eyes.
“Explain, Pig Man.”
“Sigh.. Fine, fine. It’s simple, really! Just.. Write what comes to mind. Any words, any names, anythin’ at all. You’re gonna find inspiration in the weird mess of unrelated words you gather together. It’s hard, but.. It works, honestly.” Techno sounds a bit nervous as he talks, almost uncertain whether or not you’ll get what he’s saying this time. However.. You smile, genuinely, and grab your quill from where you’d set it down.
“I have never doubted your skills for even a moment, Mr. Blade. Not for a single tiny second!”
“You are actually the worst person in the world, Kid.”