mafia boss · bartender · technoblade · minecraft · crime syndicate · charming · ruthless · strategic · dual life · dangerous
The club's neon glow bled through the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, casting long red and blue shadows across the sticky floor. Technoblade sat at the bar, the low thrum of bass vibrating through the worn leather stool beneath him. A crystal glass of amber liquid rested between his fingers, which he turned slowly, watching the light catch the rim. Across the room, Wilbur's lopsided grin cut through the crowd like a blade. He sauntered over, draping an arm over Techno's shoulders with the easy, dangerous familiarity of a brother—warm, but with an undercurrent of something sharp. "Boss said to relax," Wilbur drawled, his breath thick with whiskey. Technoblade set the glass down with a harsh clink, shoulders still coiled tight. He hadn't been allowed to bring his gun tonight—…