A Gentle Soul (Technoblade x reader)

XXXIX

Shadow of the Prison
In which a prison casts a dark shadow across L'Manburg

...~<<<()>>>~...

The dim light of the cabin flickered as (Y/n) carefully assisted Technoblade in donning his formidable netherite armor. The weight of the blackened metal seemed to blend with the shadows, adding an aura of strength and determination to the room. As she secured the intricate pieces, her fingers moved with practiced ease, a dance familiar from countless preparations before battles.

"You know," (Y/n) began, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips, "the last time I braided your hair was before the war with L'Manburg."

Technoblade grunted in acknowledgment, memories of that turbulent time surfacing. "Ah, the chaos of it all. The spires of government rising against the chaos of freedom."

As she finished with the armor, (Y/n) moved to stand behind Techno, fingers gently combing through his unruly hair. "You were a sight to behold, charging into battle with your hair flying. But, you know, the braid did add a certain flair."

Techno smirked, feeling the tug of nostalgia. "A flair for the dramatic, maybe. It's been a while since those days."

"Yeah," (Y/n) murmured, her hands deftly weaving a braid. "A lot has changed since then. But you're still the same Techno, the one who fights for what he believes in."

The cabin held a quiet moment, the only sounds the soft rustle of armor and the gentle hum of the surrounding woods. (Y/n) finished the braid, securing it with a simple tie. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork.

"There you go, the fearsome Blood God ready for battle."

Techno turned to face her, a rare softness in his eyes. "Thanks, (Y/n). It's good to have someone who understands."

She smiled, her own eyes reflecting the bond they had forged through battles and victories. "Always, Techno. Now, let's face whatever comes our way together."

Technoblade's eyes bore into (Y/n) with a mix of concern and determination. "Are we going to have the same argument about you not wearing proper armor?"

(Y/n) sighed, a playful glint in her eyes. "Techno, you know I prefer the flexibility. It's not like I can't handle myself."

He crossed his arms, unconvinced. "Flexibility won't protect you from a surprise attack. I can't focus in battle worrying about you."

(Y/n) chuckled, giving in to the familiar banter. "Alright, alright. For your peace of mind, I'll wear a netherite chest plate. Happy?"

A small smirk played on Techno's lips. "Ecstatic. Now, let's gear up. We've got a journey ahead, and I want you in one piece."

As Technoblade secured the netherite chest plate around (Y/n)'s frame, his fingers deftly worked, ensuring a snug fit. The clinking of armor echoed in the room. Once satisfied, he reached up and gently removed the dragon pin from her hair.

Silence settled between them as Techno carefully inspected the intricate accessory. His movements were deliberate, a mix of concentration and familiarity. The dragon pin, a symbolic emblem of their shared experiences, held sentimental value beyond its aesthetic appeal.