𝐌𝐂𝐘𝐓 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Pairnings: Technoblade x Reader
Warnings: Breaking-in, attack
Pronouns: They/Them

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Masquerade balls were so fun. There was something oddly relaxing about being able to attend fun parties and galas while wearing a mask in front of your face. It surely brought down the stress of being recognised by other people with the only way to differentiate others is by recognising their voices. But (Y/n) didn't have a lot of friends, so there weren't exactly a lot of people for them to meet. In fact, a small voice in their head was actually telling them that the reason that they were going to this ball in the first place was actually to meet new people. Sure, a masquerade ball probably wasn't the ideal situation to find new faces, but it was a start to getting out of the house more.

It was hard to talk to people, especially with there being such a large selection to choose from. (Y/n) knew, as soon as they entered the gates to the hall of where the party was being held, that it was going to be hard for them to even find a friendly group of people to communicate with. Not because most of them looked unfriendly, but because there was simply too many of them.

And because most of them looked unfriendly.

There were large swarms of rich and wealthy lords and ladies, all chuckling over glasses of wine. Some of the richest people were most likely stood in the room before them, all engaging in intelligent conversation as if it were a typical thing to talk about. (Y/n) was starting to feel like their outfit absolutely paled in comparison to everybody else's. They weren't exactly poor, but they wouldn't call themselves rich. They were sitting comfortably in middle-class, which is where they had been comfortably sat their entire life.

Now, I'm sure if (Y/n) had any relevance in that society, then all would stop to divert their attention (Y/n)'s way. Fortunately, that did not happen. Because I don't think they'd know how to handle a situation like that with everybody's eyes being completely on them. For music to stop and for spotlights to shine on their body. That was way too much pressure to undergo. But thankfully, just like they had predicted, nothing had happened, and the ball continued as soon as (Y/n) waltzed through the entrance doors.

To be fair, (Y/n) would have liked if at least one person greeted them as they walked in. Because if they had nobody to talk to upon entering the room, then what was the point of even walking in in the first place? It made it really awkward for them because it would mean that they'd just have to aimlessly walk around the hall. They'd have to pass themself around from crowd to crowd, hoping that at least one person would engage them with conversation and, so far, they didn't seem to be having any luck.

The best that they could hope to do was just walk up to someone and just strike up a conversation right there on the spot. Their eyes had rested on a trio of people standing around the snack table: One had tussled, dirty blonde hair, another had dark black locks, and the final one had silvery curls that were tied back into an elegant bun. Each of them had all donned their own masks; the blonde and brunette were both in suits and the silver-haired one was in a gorgeous, black dress. (Y/n) just bit their tongue and made their way over to them, crossing their fingers to pray that they would accept them.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ball, the king's sons were sneaking themselves into the gala, wanting a taste of fun in their lives. Two of them were currently stood in one of the corners of the room beside one of the great pillars that held up the roof and the decorations of the party. The youngest son had already parted away from his older brothers, wishing to seek a thrill of the night. As long as the brothers were still able to catch glimpses of the white and red mask that the youngest was wearing, as well as his golden-blonde hair, then they were fine.