My Beloved (Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 2

You wake up to the sound of your Dad yelling your name, and the baby screaming bloody murder. Bolting out of bed, you snatch a robe from your closet, and barely manage to cover yourself before stumbling into the nursery. When you get there, you see your Dad, holding your son at arm's length, with panic in his eyes, as the six-month-old squirms uncontrollably.

"What the...? Dad? what are you doing?" you ask, trying to suppress a laugh.

"You were asleep, so I tried to take care of Tubbo, but he started screaming... and um, I didn't know what to do", your father answers sheepishly.

"Okay, okay, give him here", you sigh and stretch out your arms. Your dad immediately drops the baby goat hybrid into your arms, where he instantly calms down. Bringing Tubbo up to your face, you sniff, wrinkle your nose, and turn your head away. You comment, to no one in particular, "Wow, no wonder he was fussing, Sheesh, that smells."

Walking over to the changing table, you start the process of changing Tubbo's diaper. While doing this, you smirk to yourself, at how squeamish a baby could make your dad, the famous warrior (F/N) slayer of armies. It made sense though, piglin moms like yours, are very protective of their young, not letting even the fathers touch them until they are at least a year old. Dad, being an only child, had no experience with babies, until his grandson. So, he has no idea how to take care of one, though you appreciate his attempt too.

After cleaning Tubbo up, you grab a crisp little gray suit and tiny red clip-on tie, to dress him in, for the day. You admire the boy, with his short brown hair, tiny yellowish horn nubs peeking out from under the strains, his sapphire blue eyes, and pale skin, that all combined make Tubbo look quite dashing. Eventually, your dad decides to leave the room, realizing there is nothing more for him to do in the nursery, and heads downstairs, to hopefully make breakfast. Grabbing a comb, you brush Tubbos hair into a somewhat organized manner. Then heading downstairs with him in your arms, you follow your Dad into the kitchen. You grab a bottle of goat milk from the fridge, and sit down at the kitchen table to feed the baby.

"What time is it?", you ask suddenly.

"About 7:30", Dad responds.

7:30? You woke up about 30 minutes ago. So, that means you got about 4 hours of sleep. Well, that's better than usual... but before you can finish the thought, your dad sits a bowl of steaming porridge in front of you. The porridge has dried sweet berries, nuts, and brown sugar, just the way you like it.

Then your dad says, "Once you're done with your food, put Tubbo in his playpen, and go get dressed in your nicest clothes. We have a big day ahead of us. Also, remember to let me do all the talking unless they ask you to speak, Okay?" You nod, mouth already full of porridge, chewing quickly.

With one hand, you spoon up your next bite of porridge, and with the other feed Tubbo, who already finished half the bottle. Scarfing down your food in record time, you're suddenly very thankful for the trait of fire resistance, inherited from your mother, because the porridge was right below the boiling point. You wait a minute for Tubbo to finish his bottle. Standing up, you walk him over to the green netted, collapsible playpen in the living room and gently place him in it.

Walking away from the living room, you head through the kitchen and upstairs towards the bathroom. Before you enter the bathroom, you stop by the medical cabinet and get some supplies. Placing the medical supplies on the counter, you start up a warm bath. While the tub fills up, you strip off your robe and undergarments. They peel slightly, dry blood binding the clothes to you and now the scabs are open, exposed to the air again. You're just hoping that the injuries won't get infected.

Finally, the bath is full of water. You scrub off the dirt and grime from the bottom of your hooves, before entering the bath. Sliding in the perfectly tempered water you let yourself relax for about five minutes before washing yourself. Scrubbing off the dirt from your face you next move to the blood and grime everywhere else on your body, wincing at the slight stings of the soap. After, you go over yourself again with cinnamon-scented soaps, and then you wash your hair. Shampoo, rinse, conditioner, and rinse once more. After all this is done, you drain the bath and apply your favorite apple cinnamon body lotion. Proceeding to dry yourself off with a towel, you go to the sink and wash your face again, making sure it's completely clean.

Now you start to dress your wounds. starting with the arrow wound to your arm, which poses the greatest threat of getting infected. It's not as deep as you thought it was though. But still at least half a centimeter deep. Cleaning the gash properly with some disinfectant, you proceed to cover the arrow wound with gauze, wrapping it with some bandages that you specifically brought to match your skin tone. After you finish with your arm you continue all over your body cleaning and covering cuts and scrapes with waterproof skin-colored bandages.

Once all your injuries are clean and covered, you throw your stained clothes into a laundry hamper and wrap yourself in a fluffy white towel. Then opening the bathroom door, you head to your room. Once you're in your room you walk over to your closet and open it, deciding on what to wear for such a big day, the day your family appeals to become a permanent resident of the Athians Kingdom.

You choose a black long-sleeved button-down shirt with pure gold buttons, tucked into a red thigh-length skirt, with a black silk belt, gold latch, and white leggings. Over the leggings, you have a fancier pair of custom black boots, with gold embellishments. On top of all this, you wear a white cloak with red fur trim and a gold chain latch, which your Dad got you after your first kill. You love and hate the cloak. For one, your Dad gave it to you, and two, it completes the look nicely, but, you also hate what it took for you to get it; taking away your innocence of being a child to become a full-grown woman and warrior.

Putting the cloak on, you head back to the bathroom and apply slight amounts of lip gloss, eyeliner, and blush. Not wanting to look too much unlike yourself. You then brush your hair and braid the golden streak of bangs amongst the sea of red in your hair. Inserting the golden braid into a french braid that circles your head and that leaves the extra hair to flow behind you.

Finally, you head downstairs where you see your Dad, the tall pale-skinned man, with so many freckles and scars on his face that he was more tan than pale, fiery red hair that normally danced on his head was now combed and plastered down with gels. Adorning a navy blue three-piece suit with a white undershirt, red tie, and black dress shoes completed the look of the rich businessman he portrayed himself to be.

Grabbing a leather baby sling you put it on and snuggle Tubbo inside. His arms, legs, and head protruded from the leather sling. You hand your Dad a bag of baby supplies and head outside, Dad closing and locking the door behind him. You, your son, and your Dad walk down the road towards the castle, looking forward to what's hopefully about to happen.