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sspookayy · 5 months ago

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"𝚄𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗" || Cecil Stedman x Reader

Description:

Where extraordinary beings wield incredible powers, the GDA embarks on a groundbreaking project to synthesize DNA in pursuit of creating the ultimate weapon. But when things don't go as planned the project everyone was worked so hard for is put on hold, suspended in time.

"I don't understand.. If you loved me then why did you do this?!"

"Love makes us make tough decisions sometimes."

This took me all day lol

*crossposted on Tumblr, Wattpad, and Ao3*

Chapters Intro

Words

5.8k

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Chapter 1-

Getting up and beginning the day was always the biggest challenge. The hard struggle to wake your mind was like eternity, but to be able to slide out of your painfully stiff bed was at least the easier half. When the clock struck 6 a.m., breakfast was served—a new serving of flavorless gruel that slid into your stomach. One couldn't help but speculate how, being such a great asset, you were given such meager rations. The revolting meal only augmented the sterile, prison-like ambiance that surrounded your presence.

Your room itself was a bleak gray devoid of any color, making it feel more like a cell than your space. You would often dream of the day that you would be liberated from this place, and envision a cheerful house with vibrant colors and inviting rooms. And yet you knew reality was far off—there was still so much to accomplish to reach your physical, mental, and emotional goals. Nevertheless, you had the hope that once you had traveled that path, you would be liberated, soaring through the air like a bird released from a cage. How you yearned to be among regular everyday human beings, to breathe the cold, fresh air, and to tread on real grass beneath your feet instead of the fake, lifeless material that carpeted the floors of the mockup training centers.

Your heart ached for those simple, rich moments that lay only the distance of a fantasy away. Your mind's eye could almost visualize the sunlight spilling through high windows draped in cheerful curtains, illuminating a kitchen filled with laughter and the smell of warm bread. You fantasized about cozy corners where you could curl up in a good book, surrounded by walls splashed with bright colors that reflected your spirit and soul.

And so here, the day flowed into the day after, each separated only by the antiseptic walls that echoed with distant footsteps and routine. The dullness all around you as reminder of what was to be—the way perilous, perhaps, but also paved in hope for tomorrow. And so you understood with every step toward your bolstered body, with every step your training carried you toward, there was a piece on which a foundation was laid toward your freedom.

Sometimes, late at night when the world outside sounded improbably close, leaves whispering in the faintest breeze, and birds singing good morning to the day. Those sounds pulled at your heartstrings, inducing an overwhelming longing to capture the life that you so desperately craved —a life filled with relationship, laughter, and genuineness.

Resolute, you set yourself tiny goals, each one a step nearer to that vivid future. Whether it was a training session that pushed you to your limits or a moment of self-reflection that delved deep into your psyche, every effort brought you nearer to the individual you wanted to become. And as you imagined the day when you would gain your freedom, you held fast to the dream that beyond dingy walls stretched a world for you out there—a world replete with life, energy, and tinged with colors of possibility.

But what you didn't know as you sat in your room, was that your freedom was much closer than you possibly could have thought of, because somewhere else in the facility was Director Radciffe, settling into a meeting room with other scientists, doctors, and other professionals from different fields. Along in the room were a few of the higher up agents, who all had the privilege of being in on the experimental project that everyone has been working on for over a decade. Among those agents had just happened to be the one you managed to catch a glimpse of the other day, Cecil Stedman. He by far wasn’t new in the GDA, but was one of their most promising agents, having assisted in the capture of multiple villains, stopping of terroristic threats and even mass bombings with lethal chemicals.

With the click of the meeting room door shutting, the muffled hum of the air conditioning unit provided a background hum to the somberness in the air. Director Radcliffe took in the table, making sure each attendee recognized the gravity of their mission. Pens scratched and papers crinkled as the team navigated the task of sinking deeply into discussions that would reshape the very face of their organization.

“Ladies and gentlemen," Radcliffe began, his voice stern and commanding. "We stand on the cusp of a breakthrough that can reshape our approach to containment and rehabilitation of potential threats. Project 47C is more than an upgrade of our present protocols; it is a revolution." His eyes swept the group, searching for any sign of doubt or disbelief.

Cecil sat back in his chair, arms folded, a small smile spreading as he observed how Radcliffe's excitement was reflected in his own. Having spent years chasing justice, Cecil felt they were finally on the brink of something huge—a means of tapping into the potential of the very forces they were trying to master.

One of the younger scientists, Dr. Elena Krause, interrupted. "With all due respect, Director, has there been any work on the ethical implications of playing with individuals who possess superhuman abilities? We know that they have fractured psyches due to the nature of their abilities, and manipulating those variables can have catastrophic effects.".

Radcliffe leaned forward. "That's the very reason that we're here. We've got a recommended model for integration, one which takes into account psychological testing, monitoring, and a fail-safe mechanism to cut down on risk. We cannot let sentiment cloud our judgment when the stakes are this high.".

From the other side of the room, a buzz-cut agent interjected, "If everything works out, the subjects will be beneficial, not threats. Think about it—no more containment cells, only cooperation. Imagine using their abilities for the common good under our guidance."

Dr. Krause frowned, quite clearly not believing her. "You're proposing a fantasy, and in the world of superhumans, fantasies become nightmares. You're going to utilize untapped abilities—abilities that could cause vast destruction if they malfunction. We need to be worried about their autonomy and mindset."

Cecil leaned forward, intrigued by the scientist's perspective, but excitement was in the air. Radcliffe had that glint in his eye—the same look he had when introducing revolutionary technology or unveiling new ventures. "I know you're concerned, Elena, and we do need a strong ethical guideline. But the reality is that these individuals, if they are left unchecked or misread, pose a constant threat—not just to us, but to society itself. We have a responsibility to turn potential enemies into allies."

The buzz-cut agent, who now stood against the wall, sneered. "And just think of the PR! Rehabilitating ex-threats as heroes—can you imagine the media firestorm? We'd be credited as superhuman rehabilitation pioneers. It could revolutionize the public image of our organization overnight.".

Dr. Krause shook her head, disappointment etched into her features. “You’re saying you’d rather sell a narrative than ensure these individuals receive the care they need. This isn’t an opportunity for glory; it’s about lives—theirs and ours.”

Radcliffe was getting short-tempered. "I understand that there are ethical issues, but we're not discussing playing God—we're discussing regaining control. You all know what's occurred over the past few years—how many lives were lost due to the fact that we were unable to contain threats? We cannot be naive.".

It was a classic standoff—a battle of science against ethics, of pragmatism against morality. Amidst the firecracker exchange, a soft but firm voice at the far end of the table intervened. It was that of Agent Lila Grant, a seasoned veteran and one of the older field agents who had seen the consequences of both excess and inaction firsthand.

"Director Radcliffe, if I might, the balance you're striving for is good. We've seen what occurs when we try to control that which we can never fully understand. Yes, we must devise some way of mitigating threats, but we can never lose sight of the human element here. There's a person behind these abilities, a person whose life can't be reduced to experimentation or collateral damage."

Cecil felt a surge of agreement in his own heart. He had worked with Lila and knew that her compassion was rivaled only by her commitment to justice. She was adept at bridging gaps, grasping the subtleties of human nature in an arena long ruled by hard-headed arithmetic.

Radcliffe took a deep breath, obviously frustrated. "Idealism will not save us from an angry superhuman bent on destroying us. We can't wait for the perfect solution. Time is not on our side.".

The air in the room was electric with tension, each one aware that what they had to say could mean the very fate of Project 47C. For Cecil, more was riding on this than ever before. He risked—opening his mouth not only to say what was wise, but to consider the implications of the proposal.

"Director, certainly efficiency is imperative, but perhaps we might secure the subjects in a phased assimilation process? We could begin with volunteers—that is, people who already actively seek cooperation or redemption. Perhaps they could be a bridge leading from their world to our and be respectful of their autonomy."

Radcliffe's brow wrinkled as he pondered Cecil's suggestion. "You want to treat them like partners, and not like captives?”

"Exactly," Cecil insisted, his tone even but strong. "If we can first build trust and respect, we may not only be able to utilize their abilities but include them in the healing process as well. Many of them are still struggling with their past; they should be able to reclaim their story."

Dr. Krause's eyes lit up, and Lila concurred. "Pilot programs could provide us with valuable information and feedback. We can't ignore the psychological reality of this—accepting their stories matters.".

Radcliffe rubbed his temple, weighing their words. He was torn between guarded hope and a feeling of duty—both options with risks of their own. "I'll consider phased implementation, but we have to move quickly. We have to be vigilant. If we execute Project 47C, we'll accomplish both our mission and our code."

As the meeting reached its conclusion, a subtext to the atmosphere emerged. Fear mingled with hope, since a feasible scheme began to coalesce, but the unpredictable ramifications remained threateningly suspended in the air.

At long last, the moment arrived for you to be released, hours after breakfast. Today’s agenda promised a series of activities: a straightforward flight training exercise, followed by lessons in battle strategy, and concluding with a light workout before dinner and the evening vitals assessment. As you dressed in a snug tank top and comfortable workout shorts, anticipation tingled in your veins.

Stepping out of your room, you were accompanied by Dr. Blackwell, the senior scientist in charge of your daily activities. She was a middle-aged woman whose steady presence had been a comforting normal in your life—a kind of mother figure. Dr. Blackwell's very real concern for your well-being could be observed; her compassionate heart shone benevolence like sunbeams, but she was evidently capable of holding a visible boundary marking her professionalism. Her work ethic too often appeared to be a motherly duty, a blend of instinctive caregiving and dedication to her work.

With the soles of your feet making soft, slow sounds on the cold, hard floor, the echo was dampened softly through the sterile halls, offering a rhythmic backdrop for your thoughts. Each step was sounded as if with determination, a reminder of hurdles to be cleared and opportunities to be seized.

You paused for a moment outside the training hall, a simulated room that replicated the outside world. Beyond that door lay a world where you could spread your wings, figuratively and take a headlong dive into the whirlpool of flying, strategy, and hard work that awaited. Drawing in a deep breath, you stepped forward to take the day and accept that now was your time to forge your own path in a world which had so very often appeared so restrictive.

As you pushed open the door to the training center, the familiar hum of machinery surrounded you. The simulation room was vast, its high ceiling high enough to accommodate your soaring flights. Virtual worlds—mountains, valleys, and open sky—filled the digitally created horizon, ready to challenge your skills. You could sense the anticipation rising within you, along with the familiar cautions of nervousness that preceded any crucial training session.

“Remember”, Dr. Blackwell responded, her voice stern and encouraging, as you came in. "Focus on your attitude and path. Your skills are phenomenal, but control is the key. It's not necessarily how high you can soar, but how well you can interpret wind currents and obstructions"

You nodded, leveling your breathing as you moved to the starting platform reserved for launching dives into the simulated realm. You sensed the crackling energy that thrummed beneath your skin, a presence that was familiar as you got ready to fly.

With a swift movement, you leapt off the platform, muscles tensing and releasing in a fluid burst of power. Weightlessness enveloped you, and air rushed past your face as you burst upward. The virtual sky stretched out before you, a bright blue filled with the golden hues of a simulated sun. You sliced through the air, your body automatically knowing what to do as you looped and flew.

“Great!" Dr. Blackwell shouted down from the ground. "Now, level and stabilize at fifty feet!”

You changed your position, arms extended a little and legs bending at the knees, sensing the slight change in your center of gravity. The air resistance changed as you settled, hovering motionless. Catching your breath, you stood still to appreciate the breathtaking view. The world around you was surprisingly real—the feel of the simulated ground, the creak of trees in the simulated wind, even the buzz of simulated wildlife spread across the horizon.

“Now, engage your combat maneuvers,” Dr. Blackwell instructed. “Let’s simulate a threat. Picture an enemy combatant approaching from your right!”

Adrenaline ran through you as you whirled in mid-air, instinctively assessing the imaginary foe. Your wrist cracked, your mind recalling your power to hold energy in a concentrated blast, and unleashed a tightly packed beam of energy at the figment of an enemy. It undulated through the air, electric charge crackling within it, hitting the ground near the simulated enemy.

“Good use of your energy!” Dr. Blackwell praised, her eyes sparkling with pride. “Now, let’s increase the challenge. I’ll add wind simulations and obstacles!”

Suddenly, gusts of wind assailed you, testing your agility and poise. You changed rapidly, feeling the pull of the currents and using your flight abilities to ride out the sudden shift. Swirling gusts attempted to confuse you as violently swaying limbs from simulated trees sought to deflect you. With a smooth curve, you leaned forward, making skilled passage through the simulated trees, each turn precise.

Great!" Dr. Blackwell cut through the chaos. "Now, let's create a moving target. It will be like a threat in real life!”

When the target—a swiftly darting drone—dove into sight zigzagging through the sky, your heart raced. You tracked its erratic course, deciding what to do next. With a colossal surge of power from your legs, you sprinted forward, calling on every ounce of your energy. In the blink of an eye, you were racing towards the drone, covering the ground with ease.

As you approached, you rolled hard to the side, allowing the drone to zoom on by. With a swift turn, you spun around, arm extended, your focus once again on your energy. Job done, you released a burst of power, striking the drone squarely. It exploded in a cascade of pixelated sparks, a burst of exhilaration that left you gasping.

"Now, put it all together!" Dr. Blackwell encouraged. "Take it higher!"

Your heart pounding, you flew once more, soaring to the reaches of the simulated atmosphere. You felt an almost-euphoric thrill as you soared higher, testing your limits. The ground below blurred, the world spreading out before you endlessly under your feet.

While executing a series of breathtaking flight patterns—spiral, dives, and loops—you indulged in the thrill of flying. With each action, you were inches closer to attaining not only having more control over your skills, but confidence as well.

Finally, as you reached the landing time, you focused on descending. You straightened your legs and prepared your body for a perfect landing on the practice platform. Your feet descended with perfectly executed poise, and a triumphant smile spread across your face.

"Exceptional!" Dr. Blackwell announced, her hands clasping together in genuine enthusiasm. "You really commanded today. You've improved wonderfully!"

You felt a surge of pride in your chest. The training was tough, but every minute was leading up to finding your real potential. As the day progressed, you were more dedicated than ever before to embracing not only your strengths, but also the responsibility that came with them, prepared to learn the lessons of battle tactics in the second part of your development. Today was not only another day of practice, but a turning point in your path to becoming the hero you were meant to be.

But, as with much of your life, every joyful and prideful moment was abruptly interrupted when a voice crackled to life through Dr. Blackwell's earpiece. “Yes, sir, I’ll be right there,” she responded, her tone shifting from warm to professional in an instant. She gathered herself, glancing up from her clipboard to meet your eyes. “I have to go meet with the director. He's sending someone to monitor you until I return, and they'll bring you to your lesson in battle strategy.” She departed as suddenly as she arrived.

As Dr. Blackwell departed, the same man you'd noticed earlier when you'd gone in to check your vitals a couple of days ago entered the room: He approached you, and the moment your eyes locked, something almost palpable filled the air. He didn't speak at first; rather, he looked you over with a cautious, almost gentle, expression as if he were attempting to piece together a puzzle.

“So you're the one Director Radliffe and the staff have been discussing. I finally get to meet you," he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

You took his larger hand firmly in your own, shaking it up and down, and then releasing it, with a wary mixture of curiosity.

"So, 47C, then? They still don't have a proper name for you, do they?" he taunted, a playful tone creeping into his voice.

Rolling your eyes back in frustration, you felt a bit worse for taking the bait. "Actually, they do," you replied, straightening your posture. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Ah, well (Y/N), I'm Cecil Stedman. I'm one of the best agents here," he said to you, his expression shifting to one of genuine interest. "Dr. Blackwell said you might need someone to escort you to your next training session."

You nodded, intrigued by this enigmatic agent. He was a charming sort, his presence soothing and authoritative. "It's nice to meet you, Cecil. I appreciate your help."

“Likewise. I’ve heard you’ve been making quite the impression,” he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. “Battle tactics can be rigorous, but I’m confident you’ll excel. Shall we?”

As you fell into step beside him, you couldn't help but see the undercurrent of tension that filled the air. It was strange, the way he seemed to sense the intensity of your training and the weight of your potential. You saw him out of the corner of your eye, noticing his features—a strong jawline, intelligent eyes, and an air of authority that was both threatening and reassuring.

"So, what's the first task in battle tactics?" you asked, desperate to shatter the silence and find out more about what was to come.

Cecil looked down at you, the edges of his lips curling into a smile. “Today, you’ll learn how to analyze your opponents and adapt your strategies in real-time. We’ll simulate various combat scenarios where you’ll need to think on your feet. It’s not just about raw power; it’s about strategy and timing.”

A surge of excitement flashed inside you. The possibility of continuing to build your skills even further—of refining your combat knowledge as well as your own abilities—was thrilling.

As you made your way through the halls of the facility, as guided by Cecil, you couldn't help but sense that today was going to be a turning point for you. This wasn't just another training session; it was a day to hone both your mind and your body, preparing yourself for whatever awaited you in this new foreign world.

"So, (Y/N)," Cecil cut you short. "Battlefield strategy—what do you know? What have they taught you so far?" You hesitated, struggling to think clearly. "Essentially positioning and the importance of understanding the landscape—but little more than that."

Cecil nodded, his face thoughtful. "Good start, but it's also important to know your allies' strengths and weaknesses. Working in a team, coordinating with others, is usually what separates victory from defeat.

As he spoke, you felt a connection building between the two of you, and that an increasing awe at this new world of heroes, tactics, and fight against impending threats was building inside. Day one, but already you could feel it deep within your own bones: you were meant for something great, and you would see it through no matter what.

Having arrived at the training room destined for combat tactics, you gazed at Cecil before proceeding to the room. The room was spacious, and there were holographic screens as well as combat simulation dummies all over the room. It was filled with activity as a team of trainees conducted various exercises.

"Welcome," a stern-looking instructor yelled, catching your attention. "Today we will be practicing adaptive strategies in battle. You will have to face different circumstances, and I demand only your best."

As the instructor fell silent, a quiet fell in the room. You felt a rush of excitement with a dash of nervousness. This training session was unlike the physical training you were accustomed to; this time, it would be a mental plunge into the intricacies of war strategies.

“(Y/N),” the instructor said, directing his attention solely toward you. “Today, we’ll focus on understanding tactics through a series of theoretical scenarios and simulations. You’ll be the centerpiece of our discussion.”

You felt the weight of his gaze, and while it was intimidating, it also fueled your determination. Awareness washed over you—this was your opportunity to learn directly and refine your strategic thinking.

"Begin at the beginning," the instructor said, getting up to turn on a computer-controlled board that bathed the room in color. Maps and battlegrounds blazed to light, colorful and intricately drawn. "Your first lesson will cover terrain analysis. Knowing your operating environment can impact your tactics as well as a battle's results.

He pointed to a precise map of a cityscape. "See the design of this place. Picture yourself standing here—a raised point with an unobstructed view—what are the benefits of this for fending off an enemy who is moving up from the north?"

You examined the map, allowing your mind to wander. "It would give me a better perspective," you replied thoughtfully. "I could see impending threats before they come to me, so I could prepare or lay an ambush."

"Right," the instructor nodded in approval. "But what are the potential threats of holding that position?" You cocked an eyebrow as you continued on to examine the terrain. "If the other side does possess ranged weapons, they will try to flank me or use cover and come in unnoticed."

"Excellent." He smiled weakly. "That's the key to battlefield awareness—constantly evaluating both your strengths and vulnerabilities."

As he ran through more situations, you were enthralled. The lesson moved along seamlessly, progressing from basic fundamentals to sophisticated theories like identifying enemy motives and behavioral patterns. Each slide was packed with anecdotes from past battles, and you listened ravenously.

"Now let's discuss opponent analysis," the instructor said, producing a list of traits to remember when your opponent is your enemy. "What kind of psychological tricks can you employ to gain the advantage?" You thought back over your past training. "Deception and misdirection would be effective—if I can make them believe that I am somewhere when in fact I am somewhere else, it might catch them off guard."

"Psychological warfare is just as powerful as physical combat." He paused, allowing you to absorb what was stated before issuing a new task. "I'd like you to develop a hypothetical plan for a two-to-one situation. You'll need to apply everything we've covered.".

With a slight leaning of recognition, you began to come up with your plan, mind working intensely. You envisioned the terrain—a steep alleyway with ambush possibilities but limited movement area. You took notes, not forgetting to consider unexpected factors that might happen in fights.

"Take your time," the instructor advised, observing as you sketched out diagrams and notes on your pad. "This is all about how fast you can adapt and strategize. Think about how your opponent will play off what you do."

After some solid thinking for a good half hour, you looked up, a sense of pride for your analysis creeping into your thoughts. "For the two-on-one fight, I would lead them into the thin alleyway, using my quickness and agility to avoid confronting them head-on. I'd create a diversion—such as by throwing something small and noisy to distract, then pounce from the back or use misdirection to drive one off the other."

"Bravo! You really grasped the fundamentals. A good strategy seeks to isolate the enemy and take advantage of their vulnerabilities." Your praise filled you with enthusiasm and confidence.

"Let's test this plan out with a simulation," he said, inputting data into the training system. The room transformed; the walls melted away into a virtual version of your alleyway. You felt a surge of adrenaline—this was no longer theory; it was going to become very real.

"Alright," he said, standing beside you as the simulation began. "It's not necessarily what you do; it's understanding how your opponents think. Implement your strategy and adjust according to their reaction."

The simulation sprang to life around you, the alley way filled with digital silhouettes and bursts of movement. You could see two aggressive figures at the other end, their

movements smooth and calculated as they positioned themselves to meet in the middle.

"Start," the instructor ordered, and you psyched yourself up.

As the attackers moved in, you executed your diversion, hurling an object that clattered on the ground just beyond your vision. The two virtual opponents exchanged a look, freezing for a moment.

You used the second to slide over to the side, establishing an ambush. As you did so, you felt the weight of your decisions—your previous analysis guiding every movement.

The leading attacker approached the noise with care, while the second hesitated, not knowing what to attempt. It was the time that you had anticipated, and your tension coursed through your system.

In a burst of tremendous speed, you struck out into the shadows, with the objective of disengaging the initial enemy and paralyzing him before the other could act. The moment felt thrilling as you allowed your survival instincts to operate.

"This is what it means to really understand strategy," the teacher told you, observing closely as you carried out your plan. "Now remember, improvise!"

When the second enemy came your way, your thoughts went wild. You could not get comfortable. You promptly adjusted, refining your strategy on the fly as you reacted to the latest events.

With a quick step, you ducked beneath the incoming blow and slid back into position with your agility. The air inside the room thickened with concentration, the ringing of your movement and the footsteps of the fighter echoing in your ears.

The simulation gamefully heightened as you waltzed around their attacks, using your knowledge of positioning to keep the upper hand. Finally, you managed to isolate the last opponent, repeating the plan you had designed in class.

When the simulation ended, the results flashed on the screen, and the outcome was a success. Your heart raced—not because of physical exertion but at the raw thrill of mental victory.

“Well done, (Y/N),” the instructor said, a rare smile breaking across his face. “You’ve not just learned the lessons today; you’ve applied them in real time with remarkable acuity. Your ability to adapt is impressive.”

You beamed at the praise, feeling a surge of pride and accomplishment course through you. “I appreciate that. I understand how important these tactics are.”

"Right," he replied, nodding his head in agreement. "The world is unpredictable these days. Having the ability to think on your feet and outsmart your competition tactically will set you apart."

As the class was over and you reviewed the lessons of the day with one another, you had a sense of closeness with your teacher—this was more than training. Every lesson developed a course towards mastery.

Determined to exceed all expectations, you left the room with a renewed sense of purpose, prepared to meet the challenges ahead of you, armed not only with authority, but with knowledge.

As the training session concluded, you were charged, buzzing with the adrenalin of the simulation and the pride of your performance. The instructor's praise lingered in your mind as you strolled with Cecil, who had stood silently throughout, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Great job there," Cecil told you and him when you exited the training room. "I wouldn't have doubted you would do anything less, but you totally nailed those tactics."

"Thanks!" you replied, your cheeks reddening slightly with praise. "It was great to be able to apply the theory. I didn't realize how thrilling it would be to think on my feet that fast like that."

Cecil's gaze rested on you, a spark of admiration in it. "You've got a feel for it. It's not something to soak it all up; it's how you apply it in an inventive manner, and you've got that ability." The affectionate warmth and candor in his tone gave you a shiver of excitement as you proceeded along the corridor. You enjoyed these small moments of appreciation and respect; they gave wings to your ambition and desire to keep improving.

“You're making it sound so simple," you said with a wicked smile. "But I'm quite certain a whole lot of practice is still in my future."

“Sure, but you have the right attitude," he reassured. "And trust me, one of the most important qualities a hero can possess. It's what makes you stand out." You exchanged a glance, the air around you changing a fraction, becoming intimate. There was something unspoken hanging between you, a glimmer that grew with each exchange of compliment and look.

"So what's dinner in your room tonight?" he asked, breaking the silence as you turned down another hallway. "Something hopefully better than field rations night after night."

You smiled at the humor in his words. "I'm hoping for something good. But it'll probably be the same gruel they serve us every night."

"Well that doesn't sound great," he said smiling.

You felt a rush in your chest as you locked eyes with Cecil. "I could use some company while I eat. It gets kinda lonely in those rooms," you admitted, wishing your invitation expressed your desire for something more than a shared meal; it was about camaraderie in the drudgery of training life.

"Not at all; I'd be happy to assist," he replied, his voice trailing on the last word, a hint of warmth entering his voice. Glancing at you, the air between you became thick, charged with an unspoken connection. But then he clarified, "Though, we should keep things professional. I wouldn't want to cloud any waters—we're still 'colleagues' after all."

His adamant refusal to invade your space calmed the moment, filling the air with an aura of mutual respect even as your heart missed a beat at the irremediable feeling of camaraderie. Walking by your side, you couldn't help but notice the way he moved—casual but confident, his casual humor making you smile. Each conversation felt like it seeped into something more, laced with the hint of flirtation.

At last, you reached your room, and Cecil stood just outside the door, the soft sheen of overhead lights in the air about you. The moment was suspended, with both of you there, hesitating just that fraction.

"Tell me what you think of the food," he said, his voice dropping a little as if to create a more intimate rapport."

You could feel the tension growing in the air, an unspoken knowledge that perhaps this friendship was going to turn into something more.

"Okay, see you later then," you said, pushing open the door and then looking back at him again.

"Have a good one," he said, his cocky smile reassuring you as you shut the door behind you into your room.

As you closed the door, you stood there for a moment leaning against it, your heart racing, the bright chatter ringing in your mind. You were elated—not just from the practice, but from the connection you had begun building with Cecil. Dinner would no longer be just dinner; it would be a way to open up, to bond, and even flirt some more. Smiling to yourself, you headed toward the small table in the corner that had been arranged, with a new thrill of excitement not just for your task as a hero, but for the friendship that awaited you.

The last time you’d felt this flutter of excitement toward the opposite gender was long ago, during the rare occasions when the young blonde maintenance man was called in to fix your toilet. You’d purposely clogged it just to catch another glimpse of him, desperate for that brief interaction. But that was a long time ago, way back, and other than the doctors and researchers who made up your daily rhythms, there weren't really all that many young men your age you could even talk to—much less ignite anything remotely sentimental.

The doctors knew why they were alarmed. They knew how, particularly during your early teenage years, the fascination with boys, love, and relationships would only bloom. As you grew older, curiosity prevailed, fueled by the knowledge that declaring romantic interest was downright forbidden. The tension between desire and repression kept you craving attachment, spurring the ache that coursed through you today as you navigated your feelings for Cecil.

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sspookayy · 5 months ago

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"𝚄𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗" || Cecil Stedman x Reader

Description:

"I don't understand.. If you loved me then why did you do this?!"

"Love makes us make tough decisions sometimes."

I LOVE THIS MAN.

I haven't really seen anyone write much fanfic about Cecil, and well hes my favorite character so i have to do the Cecil simps justice. Updates may be slow because i have an actual irl job and bills to pay but I'm gonna try my best and et chapters out in a timely manner.

*crossposted on Tumblr, Wattpad, and Ao3*

________________________

Introduction-

The wall clock ticked relentlessly on, each second whispering in counterpoint to the clang of metal and grunts. You paused briefly in your exercise, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead as you gazed about at the stark, unyielding walls of the government compound that was home. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, their cold light casting an unforgiving glare on the rows of weights and machines that were now familiar companions in your endless pursuit of power.

Today, like every day preceding it, you were in the training room, pushing against the limits of your flesh. The weight of expectation had borne down on you since the day that they concluded you were an "experiment"—a component of a program to mold human potential into something greater, yet an offspring of circumstance gone awry.

You were different—not another test subject, but a pioneer of hybrid experimentation. Your creators had attempted to create a weapon, but you had become something more: a being imbued with unbelievable strength, agility, flight and reflexes, approaching the scale that was the Immortal in ability. You were a creation of their ambition, and while the world around you buzzed with the murmurs of heroism and glory, you had been kept under the veil of uncertainty.

You took a deep breath and seized the heavy dumbbells to begin another set of reps, muscles contorting and flexing as you pushed yourself to your limits. Your prison—your estranged home within these walls that held your secrets and torturers alike. You were coming to the end of your set when the door creaked open, the intrusion jolting you out of your focus.

"Impressive as always."

The voice was deep and resonant, heavy like the weights you were using, and it sent a thrill of recognition down your spine. You dropped the dumbbells and turned and faced Director Radcliffe—a tall, older man with sharp features, dark brown eyes, and an intelligence that radiated even in this austere environment. He was the Director of the Global Defense Agency, one of whose main functions was running the experiments.

"Sir," you breathed, attempting to conceal your surprise at his abrupt arrival. "What brings you here?"

He strode towards you with a swagger that belied the seriousness of the facility and delivered a smirk that played at the corners of his mouth. "Just stopping by to visit our most promising subject. I've been hearing whispers about your advancements, and I can tell that they're not merely rumors."

Radcliffe nodded towards the equipment, his gaze remaining on you—a combination of curiosity and admiration. You were naked, exposed; a combination of admiration and caution simmering between you as he gazed at you.

"Getting stronger every day," you replied, keeping your tone deliberately casual. "But I'm still waiting for the day I'm not a set of experiments." deliberately keeping your tone light."They seem to not be too keen on unleashing me on the world yet." You sat down on the bench that sat alongside the huge mirror that stretched along the whole wall and took the towel that was lying across it to wipe your face in an attempt to get rid of the thin layer of sweat that was covering your face.

Director Radcliffe leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a curious smile spreading across his face. "You see, with the right mindset, even experiments can become pioneers. They just need the right environment to thrive." There was seriousness in his voice that suggested he knew more than he said, as if the very fabric of your life was woven with both potential and restriction.

You glanced up at him in the mirror, the overhead fluorescent lights casting a glare that was so harsh your reflection was almost ghostly. "I suppose so. But what if all they care about is how mindlessly I can follow orders?" You let the towel drop into your lap, the damp cloth a reminder of just how hard you were driving yourself—not just physically, but mentally.

He straightened, his demeanor shifting by degrees, as if he intercepted the undertone of your annoyance. "We understand what you're capable of. Your progress is... " He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Impressive. But I am not at liberty to ignore the risks of releasing you prematurely. You are not just a collection of skills—you're a person with a life ahead of you."

"Why do I feel like I'm in a cage, then?" you shot back, startling yourself with the venom in your tone. You could feel the tension building in the air, strained and charged.

Radcliffe's eyes softened as he took in a step closer. "Change is hard. I do know that. Yet every experiment started with a spark—your spark. We're preparing you for something more than you can presently see. You're not a tool. You can be a leader.".

You let his words hang, considering the weight they carried. Progress. Leadership. What would that even look like for someone like you? "I hope you're not just saying that to soften the blow," you said tentatively, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you both.

"Trust me, I'm not," he replied, his tone level and sincere. "But I need you to commit to the process. Training isn't about physical strength alone—it's about building the foundations of what you're capable of becoming."

You took the towel again, this time using it to wipe the sweat from your forearms. Maybe he was right. There could be more to this quest than you realized. "And if I fail?" you asked, your heart racing at the thought.

Radcliffe smiled, a hint of warmth breaching his normally stoic demeanor. "Then we learn. That's the beauty of experimentation—you can always adjust and try again."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The path ahead of you was still uncertain, yet maybe, just maybe, the light at the end of your metaphorical tunnel was closer than you thought.

—

The day had drained you, each test and trial bearing down on your shoulders like a pile of bricks, a reminder of the burden you bore as you struggled to discover what you could do. Thankfully, the only thing left was to take your end-of-day vitals. Perched atop the unforgiving surface of the chilly, sterile examination table, you were able to sense a chill send a shiver up your exposed thighs, the fabric of your shorts far too brief to shield you from the cold metal below. Wires from a nest of machines coiled around you like sinister vines, and electrode pads affixed to your skin, squirming leads to monitors that displayed your EKG and a maelstrom of bewildering readings—esoteric glyphs that appeared to be a code you were desperately attempting to interpret.

The soft, soothing beeping of the machines almost lulled you into a restful sleep, but the cold, hard lights overhead were pitiless in their glare. Surrounded by an army of physicians and researchers prodding and poking at your body, you knew the largest threat was not in their intrusive methods but what followed: the return to your chambers, the place you disliked most, except for the frigid, unyielding halls of this tyrannical institute. As your gaze shifted to the left, you noticed a couple of operators and managers observing the professionals at work, their glances flicking with a mix of curiosity and indifference.

Far away, beyond the big window, ordinary people went about their everyday lives, becoming part of the rhythm of normalcy. Longing arose within you to be among them; to experience the comfort of a humdrum existence—a good job, a quiet day, a loving family. Such longings lay in the realm of dreams, an illusion which you knew would forever be out of your grasp. Amidst this sea of onlookers, your attention was suddenly drawn to Director Radcliffe, conversing with a passerby.

Squinting your eyes in an attempt to slice through the distance, your super-vision eventually caught up with the young man who had caught your attention. His smooth-slicked hair and authoritative height were equaled only by his sharply chiseled features, which spoke to authority. The gravity of the meeting was sensed, the tension so powerful it sliced through the sterile air. Then, suddenly, the young man shifted slightly, his intense eyes fastening onto yours like a shot of electricity. His eyes, an electric blue, pierced into your very being with an intensity that produced a shiver racing along your spine.

It was as if he could look right through the glass wall of your room, cutting through the layers of your being, stripping away the facade to reveal the vulnerable core within. For a moment, all else in the world outside of you melted away, and you were left with the weight of his scrutiny—a refined blend of curiosity mixed with something darker and more profound. You ached to look away, to recede into the sanitary folds of your hospital robe, but some inexplicable pull kept you riveted. Pity or judgment? Or something worse?

The beeping of equipment faded into the background, drowned out by the mesmerizing hold of his unseeing stare, stirring within you emotions long suppressed in the shadows. It was as though, in the bottom of that stare, he saw your unspoken wishes, your dreams of flight from this antiseptic jail. While the heaviness of his glance nearly strangled you, he tilted his brow infinitesimally, ever so small yet incredibly powerful an action, so it conveyed something unstated in between the two of you that was at once exciting and scary, which passed between the freezing emptiness of the lab and united the two of you into something akin to communion.

And since the moment was trapped halfway between suspended and reality, time itself stumbled, confusing the manner in which it must divide your closed-in reality from his certain truth. The sterile white walls of the room melted away, and for an instant, you were no longer merely a specimen of study, but a contributing participant in an unspoken debate—a bond of trust that poured from mutual helplessness and individual comprehension.

With each gasp of air, you felt the desire well up within you; the urge to flee the shackles of your existence. The world beyond your horizons, with all its mundane indulgences and small victories, beckoned you like a distant siren, promising freedom and a place of belonging. But as the electric blue of his eyes remained unmoved, a glimmer of hope was kindled in your chest. Perhaps, in that fleeting moment of comprehension, you could find the courage to dream once more—not just of a life beyond these bars, but of a world where your own desires were not on the fringes of fantasy.

With that in mind, you understood the weight of his eyes, allowing it to be a silent vow: to battle for freedom, resist the emptiness that wished to engulf you completely, and reclaim the vibrant life you had always imagined, no matter what.

Word Count:1869

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sspookayy · 3 years ago

Text

"Your Majesty" // C!Technoblade x reader

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is posted on my Wattpad SSpookayy as well

Female pronouns used!

Words: 2k+

~~~

Description-

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"Would you say it's wrong to kiss you before we wed?"

"I think it's best to find out"

~~~

Chapters- | 1 |

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After a few days for the messenger to travel across the land of the overworld and the Nether, going through harsh weathers and sometimes thieves was always proven to be difficult but within a few days he had made it to the Nether Fortress.

A man of many names sat upon a large dark throne, the crown that sat atop his head unbothered by the white porcelain mask carved with a smile. He hummed a tune to himself waiting for the seconds to pass by, anticipating who would walk through the large dark doors. The air was warm and hot and smelled of ash, anyone from the overworld couldn't bare to live here in what was almost considered to be hell amongst the humankind that lived in their perfect houses with their fresh clean air.

The King brought his eyes to attention as his guards opened the large doors in front of him, the messenger emerging out from them to stand in front of him, taking a bow of respect. "If I may, your majesty," the young messenger asked, "You may" the masked king permitted for him to speak. The messenger stood back up straight and reached into his bag to pull out a scroll, before unraveling it and clearing his throat to speak, "From the Phibarin Kingdom, your Majesty Philza wishes to inform you that his eldest daughter has accepted the marriage proposal and that a ball shall be thrown in the honor and celebration of the couple's engagement, that is if King Dream of the Nether Fortress accepts these conditions" the messenger rolled his scroll back up and put it in his bag before bringing out a new paper and quill, prepared to write the majesty's Dreams response.

Dream smiled under his mask, he was thrilled with the idea of their nations finally coming together through the marriage of yn and his highest warlord Technoblade. "I accept the conditions and shall send my embassy of people to attend in my place, as I would love to attend but duties for my kingdom come first. The embassy shall consist of my councilor Bad, and my general George, along with (Y/N)'s courter of course" the messenger had finished writing and rolled up the scroll before placing it in his bag, he took a bow before turning around and exiting out the large doors. Dream remained on his throne, a large smile spread across his face.

------

The kingdom was hectic, maids everywhere cleaning and even Niki off doing lots of work, musicians practicing and the chefs making sure everything they had was there for the time the ball would come.

Just a few days ago your kingdoms messenger had returned with the news that the embassy would be arriving within a few short days, which means the entire kingdom, including citizens, would have to prepare for their arrival. Your father spent most of his time with his staff making sure the ballroom was perfectly decorated, Tommy spent most of his time outside so he would stay out of the way. But for you, you had the most things to do and prepare for, after all this was your ball for your engagement.

You were in the study hall with Miss Alyssa and Ranboo, practicing the most important part of the ball, ballroom dancing. Ranboo had finished with his gardening very early at dawn so he was free to help whomever he can, and being one of the only free males at the time Miss Alyssa had drug him into the room to help you with dancing. "Now remember yn, Ranboo leads you. Posture straight and eye contact is always important." Miss Alyssa tapped your brother Tubbo's shoulders, who was helping you with dance practice, to signal him to resume the tune he was previously playing on the piano.

Ranboo put a hand on your waist and gently took your other hand to hold it up as your other hand rested on his shoulder, you straightened your posture and looked Ranboo in the eyes as a signal for him to start the dance. Ranboo nodded his head and began to move his feet and dance to the beat. You steadied your breathing, trying to concentrate on his movements so you wouldn't step on his feet with your heels. The melody was soft but strong, Tubbo had always had a talent for the art form, learning how to play at a very young age. Ranboo started to pick up speed as the tune began to speed up, moving and swaying faster which made it harder to keep up with him.

You knew what was coming up, the dip, this is something that the both of you had kept failing. Either Ranboo would accidentally drop you or you would bring him down with you and you would both fall to the ground. While it may have been funny to the both of you, including Tubbo, Miss Alyssa didn't find it as funny as the three of you did. Especially since you were a representation of her teachings and methods, it was up to you to make her look good. The moment came, it was time for the dip, Ranboo spun you once before bringing you close, bringing you down into the dip. This time you miraculously succeeded, maintaining the position for several seconds before Ranboo lifted you back up and took several steps back for him to bow to you and you returning the favor with a curtsy. "Well done, that was better than the last few tries" Miss Alyssa praised you and Ranboo. Tubbo had gotten up from the piano stool to stand next to Miss Alyssa, "I suppose that's enough for today, both of you will come back tomorrow for more practice, the ball is only a few days away so you must be prepared to the best of your capabilities." Miss Alyssa had sent the three of you off, Ranboo returning to the garden for some final touches, and Tubbo off to go find where Tommy went, leaving you alone.

You had hurried off to do your other duties, such as gown fitting, making sure that the dress you would wear would fit you perfectly. Niki was with you the whole time helping you pick a fine ballgown. You scanned through the different dresses and had your heart set on finding one that would be the finest of emerald green, not only your father's favorite color but the color of your kingdom.

Minutes passed of scanning the dresses, most of them either being the wrong color but some just not suiting your taste, Niki not being able to find any that you liked either. The seamstress tried to help by making some suggestions and even saying that she could alter pre-existing dresses that you've already seen. Pulling back one dress after the other you stopped on one that particularly caught your eye, it was the exact color you wanted and the small detailed prints were what you loved. You pulled it out of the bunch to get a better look at the finer details. "Oh that's a fine one, it would look lovely on you" the seamstress spoke in awe; Niki had looked over and a smile illuminated her face "That's a wonderful dress!" she exclaimed. You handed the dress off to Niki so the seamstress could help take your current dress off, afterwards Niki helped you into the newfound dress. Closing your eyes so the 2 ladies could straighten it and fix it up for you, plus you wanted to see what you looked like as a surprise.

Hours passed of the seamstress working on the dress, tightening it, and restitching so that it would fit and complement your form completely. "Well, I'm sure that this is the best it can get" The seamstress spoke while smoothing out your dress, "Open your eyes!"

You hesitated for a moment before finally opening them, and what you saw took your breath away. It was gorgeous; it made you feel confident, delicate but sharp, it made you feel like a queen.

"It's amazing." your breath was almost taken away, you were 100% your father would love it. You could feel your stomach start to get fuzzy as the thought of your new fiance came up, you hoped to the gods he would like it, your face started to get warmer at the thought. "What are you thinking about?" Niki perked up with the question, you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of her soft voice. "Oh uh... nothing. It's just this dress is so beautiful" you tried to playoff and even though Niki's expression looked like she wasn't buying it she simply ignored it. Niki and the seamstress helped you out of the dress and back into the one you were wearing before so you could continue your day.

You and Niki were walking down the hallway when Tommy crossed your path, "Father said he wants you in the throne room, Wilbur is arriving soon" He huffed out with his shrill voice. A smile spread across your face as you picked up your pace, almost running to the throne room. Pushing the large doors open with force you spotted your father talking to your older brother Wilbur who must have just arrived earlier than Tommy said. Laughing with joy you ran to him, almost tackling him into a tight hug, "Oh it's been ticks since I've seen you!" You practically squealed. Wilbur held onto you tightly, you two had always been the closest, "I've missed you so much!" he yelled. You both pulled away from each other, you stared at him a bit noticing small changes and details in his appearance, he looked so old. (lmao old ass)

The three of you, you, Wilbur, and Phil sat in the throne room to catch up on things while Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy played out in the garden. "So yn who are you to be wed to?" Wilbur asked with his brow raised, you didn't know how to answer because for the most part, all you knew is that your soon to be husband was once a student of your fathers, you never got a name or age, not even detail about what he was like as a person. Before you could answer your father Philza perked up, "Lord Technoblade" was all he had to say before Wilburs eyes widened, you've never heard of the name, even after assuming you would know since you've heard stories about your father's students the name still didn't ring a bell.

"Oh my... you're to be wed to the Blood God?" Wilbur asked, you froze for a second at that title, it sounded terrifying. "Wilbur don't frighten your sister" Phil spoke up before turning to you to give reassurance, "He's just a very strong young man is all, and he's won all his battles, I think he would make an amazing husband to yn."

You pushed down the harmful thoughts after your father's reassurance not bothering to dwell on the thoughts too long. Though the thought of him being a strong young man lingered in your mind, it made you wondered what he looked like. You wondered if his physic, how tall he must be or how broad his shoulders would be, even wondering if he had a manhood to match his praise.

No! Stop thinking like that!

Sounds of trumpets rung outside the castle doors so loudly you could hear it from the throne room, one of your father's servants rushing through the large doors in front of the thrones, "Your Majesty! The embassy has arrived early!" Your father's eyes widened as he yelled for everyone to take their positions before straightening his posture, you and Wilbur doing the same. Tommy and Tubbo heard the commotion and stumbled into the throne room for them to also sit on their shared throne.

The doors opened and your heart fluttered at the 3 members of the embassy who presented themselves, "Now presenting General George!" your servant's voice rang out as they begin to introduce the embassy one by one. The one known as George stepped forward and bowed in respect before your father, his height was rather short, and to go with it was short brown hair, he wore glasses with white rims and a blue shirt that complemented his armor and red cloak nicely. "Councilor Badboyhalo!" the second was introduced and was the tallest out of the three, he took a bow as you studied his features, it was hard to make features of his face except for his large glowing white eyes, his more prominent feature being his horns where a small halo of an angel hovered over them, his clothes also complemented him well, the black cloak that lined with red with the black and red clothes underneath. "And finally Lord Technoblade!" the last was introduced; he was tall but didn't amount to the height of Bad. Long braided pink hair draped over his royal red cloak, white fur lining where the neck is, gold and diamonds decorated the clothes of his white undershirt. But the most prominent feature was what was decored on his face, the mask of a pig skull to hide his facial features but that none the less didn't make you less attracted to him.

Your father was right, the more you studied your soon to be husband the better he looked, he was a VERY attractive young man who only looked to be aged about 23 ticks. He took a bow to your father before raising his head to look at your royal family, his eyes landing on you and looking at you longer than he did the rest of your family, opening his mouth to speak.

"Your highness~"

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #dreamsmp #dream #smp #c!technoblade x reader #technobladexreader #technoxreader #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #techno #technoblade #c!technobladexreader

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sspookayy · 3 years ago

Text

"Your Majesty" // C!Technoblade x reader

I posted this on my Wattpad but I'm moving everything onto my Tumbr-

Female pronouns used!

Words: 2k+

Description-

"Would you say it's wrong to kiss you before we wed?"

"I think it's best to find out"

~~~

Chapters-

~~~

"Rise and shine your highness, much to do today"

Niki had pulled open your curtains in a swift motion to let the beaming sunlight of the new day in. Bringing a hand up to your face you tried to shield your poor eyes from the incoming light, "It feels too early..." You groaned. "It's been 3 ticks on the sundial since it has risen, you've slept plenty" her soft voice spoke as she moved to the other side of the room to open your wardrobe. You slowly sat up in your bed, your hair poking out prominently in several places from bed head, "What's on the menu this morning?" You asked finally standing up and out of your bed. "Breakfast is served as biscuits and freshly cooked pig meat along with the freshest waters," Niki said as she laid out your dress and prepped your corset.

You untied the strings from your nightgown, letting it fall to the floor to pool around your feet. Niki came to stand behind you as she wrapped the corset around you, pulling the strings tightly to give you a smaller form. You let out the breath that was squeezed from you, you've gotten used to the feeling at least from over the years of wearing it. "My apologies your highness, ill try not to be rough next time" Niki had apologized with her soft voice, you had smiled a bit before speaking "You know it doesn't bother me, I would never be upset with my best friend anyway over something silly". The next few minutes followed with your usual routine, Niki helping you with your dress and hair before putting your shoes on followed by putting on jewelry of all the finest emeralds, and lastly your small crown that Niki pinned to your hair to make sure it would stay no matter what.

Taking a deep breath as you left your room you began to mentally prepare for the day, prepping for everything that would happen, most of your mentality going towards hoping your younger brothers wouldn't cause you or the kingdom staff any headaches today. As being the second oldest and the only oldest sibling left after your brother Wilbur left a few times ago, it was your responsibility to keep them in check whilst also being a good role model for them to look up to.

Walking down the hall with Niki by your side was peaceful, the light seeping through the windows illuminated the walls that held shelves of decore and paintings that hung from the wall, many of other nobles, gods, and your ancestors. Coming to the grand stairway you took a pause, looking up at the large prize jewel painting of your kingdom, a painting that was always the first thing visitors saw when they first entered the castle you've spent all your life in. The painting wasn't much recently but was an older one, your father Phil sat on his throne, you and Wilbur standing behind him towards the back with your younger brothers Tommy and Tubbo sitting on small stools in front of him and lastly your mother, your unfortunate mother who was sadly declared dead from being lost at sea many times ago when you were around Tommy and Tubbo's age.

You tried not to think much about it, you had already mourned enough, you were older now and not a small child anymore and it was time to grow up and take responsibility. Looking away you took your time going down the staircase with Niki following close behind you. By reaching the bottom you could already hear the commotion your brothers were causing coming from the main dining hall, Niki walked ahead of you to open the doors. Taking a few steps in you could see your father Phil sat at the head of the table, yelling at your brothers who were play fighting with wooden swords around the room, he hadn't even noticed you enter. Taking a deep breath you started towards your seat next to your father, your brothers taking notice, "Well look who finally decided to wake up, I didn't know they let the witch out of the dungeon!" Tommy remarked to you with an annoyingly arrogant voice. You learned a long time ago not to let his petty little remarks get to you, "I didn't know small gremlins were allowed to roam the castle halls" You remarked back, taking your seat next to your king father.

"Boys take your seats!" your father exclaimed in a rather louder tone than he had been using, your brothers stopped their horseplay and took their seats across from you next to your father, Tommy making faces at you while Tubbo played with his silverware. Tommy had always been a handful, and it got even worse after your mother's passing, always causing havoc when he could and terrorizing poor Ranboo in the garden. Tubbo however was the complete opposite, very calm and quaint, always being gentle and a bit shy, he had always been that way since your father had found him on a path from making his way back from a nearby kingdom, poor Tubbo abandoned in a crate.

Servants filled the room, placing the cooked breakfast onto the table before you, freshly cooked. You had taken your portion and began to eat, glancing up now and then to take peaks at your family's faces, Tommy had made a mess mostly always eating like a pig, Tubbo ate slowly while your father at almost even slower.

Time had passed and you had finished your meals, your father leaving off to go do his duties while your brothers went off to schooling. You on the other hand had to go attend your edicate classes, basically princess training to become queen one day. Niki following close suite behind you as you made your way down the halls to the study room where a noblewoman would meet with you for training.

"Eyes up, shoulders back, and posture straight!" Miss Alyssa berated you, "You've been around that damned Captain Puffy too much! Losing your manners!" She bickered and bitched. "Yes ma'am," You said respectfully and followed her commands, "One-day (Y/N) you'll have your kingdom to rule and watch over, a citizen won't listen to you if you have no proper respect or command!" She nagged. You glanced over at Niki who stood near the door, her presence being enough to support you, and her small gestures of nodding her head gave you the confidence you needed to get things done the right way. This lesson was learning how to pour tea, this was a crucial lesson as it would result in future relations with other queens that would soon become friends once you get married off, and having successful tea pouring skills for picnics in the garden would prove substantial for you.

Your hand grasped the handle of the teapot, slowly lifting it while your other handheld lightly to the lid that kept the contents in the pot. You moved the pot over a small cup and tilted it gently, making sure the glass didn't clink too loudly as you poured the savory tea into the cup. Setting it back down after the generous pour, you dropped 2 sugar cubes gently into the cup, stirring it with the small spoon before setting it back down on the small plate. You glanced up at Miss Alyssa to see what her facial expression was, to see that just maybe you were doing everything right; she had a poker face of an expression, making it harder to know what she was feeling. You put your hands out to gently pick up the cup slowly, making sure to calm your jitters so the cup didn't shake from you lifting it. You lifted the cup from the small plate before slowly taking a small sip and setting the cup back down on the plate, lowering your arms to set the glassware onto the table. "Well done, you're getting better" Alyssa congratulated you for having a good performance.

You smiled as you stood, bowing your head a little to Miss Alyssa before turning and leaving out the door with Niki trailing close behind you. "Well that went better than most times, don't you think your highness?" Niki asked you with her soft voice, "I suppose so, but I think it only went that way because my best friend was with me" You turned your head and smiled at Niki. Now that your classes were done you had a lot of free time, trying to decide whether to spend it in the library or the garden.

Niki had reached up and tapped your shoulder, both of you coming to a stop in the halls, "Well your highness I must be going now, many cleanings to do around your brothers quarters today" Niki had taken a small bow to you while you nodded your head in understanding, "That is fine, you are dismissed" You turned your head back before continuing to walk down the hall as Niki walked the opposite direction of you.

You decided that the best option for your free time was to be spent in the garden, making your way through the long halls before finally reaching the door that led to outside. As you opened the door, the bright light from the outside seeped in. It was a beautiful day, not too hot but not too cold and the temperature was moderate. Looking around you noticed Ranboo near the fountain tending to the roses as part of his daily routine, Ranboo always had a green thumb. He was like a brother to you, Phil having to adopt him, raised him for most of his life after finding him abandoned in a blue forest in the nether. Ranboo never wished to be royal, and instead loved the garden more than jewels and fame. You walked out into the garden, reaching your hand out to feel the bushes brush against your fingertips as you walked by, making your way to the small pond closed by trees surrounding it.

You sat down at the bench that overlooked the pond, watching the koi fish swim around with ease. This was your peaceful spot when you needed to get away from stress, most of the stress being caused by Tommy's shenanigans, it was rather quiet and held much shade from the sun so it wasn't too hot. The bushes near you rustled, you turned your head to look at them, thinking that it was one of your younger brothers that had come to look for you. Instead, the tall lengthy figure of Ranboo had emerged with a bright smile set on his face, his overalls rather dirty and his hair sticking out from the large straw hat that sat upon his head. "Evening your highness!" He exclaimed before taking the empty seat next to you on the bench, "Evening Ranboo" You greeted back, scooting over slightly to make sure there was enough room for the both of you.

You both sat in silence, watching the fish swirl in the pond as the lily pads floating on the water, the small waterfall that connected to the pond trickled with a soft sound. The birds chirped and tweeted in a melodic tone almost as it was performing a song. No pesky bugs were around thanks to Ranboos expert remedies to keep them away so they don't destroy his beautiful garden.

All for it to be ruined by the screaming of which you could instantly tell was Tommy. "Tommy give it back!" you could hear poor Tubbo call out, "Not until you admit how stronger and better I am than you!" you peered your head outwards to see behind one of the trees that blocked your view. Tommy had gotten a hold of Tubbo's precious bee doll, something that Tubbo held dear to him seeing as it was his favorite thing in the world. You sighed in a bit of frustration, standing up from your spot on the bench and walking over to the young princes to put their behavior to a stop and help poor Tubbo get his bee back. "Tommy you stop this right now!" you yelled at the young blonde child.

Tommy stuck his tongue out and threw the bee at Tubbo who caught it, running off back into the castle, making sure he slammed the doors behind him. Checking on Tubbo you saw he was smiling happily with his bee back in his hands.

Not even a few seconds later the doors had opened up again and Niki emerged from them, "His majesty, the king Philza wishes to speak to you your highness" Niki said in her calm tone. You had looked back to see that Ranboo has gone unbothered and was back to tending to his roses, "Ill be there shortly" You smiled. Niki nodded her head in understanding and left, leaving you, Tubbo and Ranboo in the garden. "Do you think Tommy went and told on you?" Tubbo looked up to you and asked, "Surely not" you said with confidence walking towards the door and beckoning him to follow you.

The two of you walked down the long halls until you made your way into the throne room where your father, Philza, sat on his large green and gold throne. "You wished to see me father?" you bowed your head before standing straight and walking to sit on your throne next to him. Your father turned his head to you and smiled, "I've been told you are doing exceptionally well in your classes and studies'' he slouched with interest towards you, "Yes sir, Miss Alyssa says that ill is ready for queenship anytime soon now" you had answered in a clear tone. "I'm very proud of you, it's lovely to know my daughter will make an exceptional queen, speaking of which, you are getting older and I think its time we start discussing marriage." you sat in silence for a moment, you never often thought about marriage but when you did it wasn't something that you seemed to mind, even if it was arranged (Which at the time was common) you wouldn't mind but just hope who you are to wed wasn't much of a bloke.

"There's a lord that I would like to have you wed too, he's from the Nether and I know he would keep you safe. He used to be a student of mine" Your father had stood from his throne and walked to you, squatting down next to your throne to get on level with you. "Please accept this, I just wish for you to be safe (Y/N)." You knew your father was just trying to think in the best interest of you and the more you thought about it the more you realized you probably knew this person, already personally knowing many of your father's past students.

"I suppose I can accept" You smiled at your father. Phil smiled and laughed as he stood up and bringing you with him for a tight hug, "Oh my (Y/N) is off to be wed! This is amazing!" he stood back for a moment, "Your mother would be so proud of you" he spoke softly

You sat back down as your father called in his messenger, telling that you had accepted and that a ball would be thrown in celebration of your new-found engagement.

Now all there was to do was prepare.

~~~

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