#edward richtofen x reader

[spearsillustration]

Should I write an Edward Richtofen (Primus) x reader fanfiction? I've been thinking about it since he's my latest hyperfixation.

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

Hiii ✨️ I have a little ask for you!

How would the Primis crew react to a fem S/O that's generally quiet and reserved, only to learn that she is a big nerd when it comes to her special interests? Maybe she info-dumps and gushes about her knowledge of her special interest, and that's how they learn that she's really smart.

I, myself, am a huge nerd when it comes to astrology. Yet not many people know that 😅

Do take your time. I love your work 🩷

-🌾

AAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

I know I have to do this one!!! As a bonus, I'll throw in my personal headcanons for their astrological signs

Reactions of Primis: Quiet Fem S/O Excitedly Info-Dumps Their Passions (Includes Personal Perspective about Astrology)

Edward Richtofen - Sagittarius

His mind is always running a mile a minute all the time. So already listening to his s/o talk about their interests helps distract from The Horrors™️. Seeing you bounce about with joy after weeks of turmoil puts the softest smile on his face... And the biggest kiss on yours!

Intellectual conversation of any kind is something he needs for a close connection. Sharing one-on-one quality time like this is exactly what helps him thrive in a relationship. Even if a topic isn't something he is knowledgeable with, it will have importance to him if it's important to you.

Richtofen is rather strict about his scientific profession and typically scoffs at any pseudosciences. This is all a façade. What he will never tell you is that he secretly practiced alchemy in the past and has occult involvement with the Illuminati. Nevertheless, he would always be gentle to his s/o. The doctor will simply stay respectful and curious about your interest with astrology. I think in the long-term he might just spill a tiny bit about his practices to you.

Tank Dempsey - Scorpio

Seeing his soft-spoken sweetheart so suddenly excited is a very pleasant surprise (and he hasn't been able to find many good surprises this whole shitshow of an expedition). The fact that you trust him enough to open up so brightly like this helps him grow closer to you. Tank is a very good listener, but please forgive his dopey smiling the whole time. Your soothing voice and happy little mannerisms are making his heart throb. It's truly a sweet thing to see.

You never fail to open his mind to new experiences and interest. You can be both sharp-minded and sweet. Those are just some of many shining reasons why he loves you so much. With that being said, please come to him the moment you need an ear to let you infodump. Tank Dempsey is best known for his loyalty and reliability, so please remember that.

He thinks the mythology behind all the constellations are really cool! Orion is his favorite one. I suggest explaining to him during a stargazing date about the various celestial events while lying down on his chest. If it gets cold at night, he'll have you burrow underneath his leather jacket to keep warm. As for astrology readings, he would like to have his horoscope read (and perhaps get a tarot reading as well with you!)

Takeo Masaki - Libra

Takeo is a strong support who's always there to listen no matter what is on his partner's mind. He’s someone who will listen and nod without interruption. He may chuckle if you start to get jittery with joy about what you’re lecturing to him. Such a vibrant soul hidden in such a timid angel!

Takeo’s presence is very patient. If by chance you feel worried about “talking too much”, he reassures you that you could never do such a thing. You deserve to be able to thrive in what makes you so happy. And for shame on whoever tried to invalidate what you had to say!

Out of everyone in the Primis Crew, Takeo is the most spiritual without a doubt. He very much believes every soul carries a fundamental purpose. Being a more introverted soul, he can often be found reflecting in solitude. He would be able to discuss the philosophy of destined fate and similar divination topics with ease. Because it can go hand in hand, I think he would be able to perform a bit of Reiki healing if you were feeling particularly stressed.

Nikolai Belinski - Aries

Nikolai is already doting on you to begin with as his quiet yet kind girlfriend. Once something inspires you to express yourself, he is taken aback by how much passion you have for your special interest. It keeps him wondering more about you. You’re just a beautiful enigma he so desperately wants to know more of!

He’s more of a listener, but his add-ons to the conversation are either genuine questions to learn more about said topic or slipped-in compliments about how brilliant you are. Nikolai also may bring up stories it reminds him of. He could spend hours learning about just about anything you tell him.

The Soviet Union repressed a lot of expression, one of them being astrology. Because of this, Nikolai is completely new to it. Typically, he is a skeptic approaching anything that he comes across. But being his beautiful little treasure, you have the gift to get him to understand that the universe wants what’s best for him. He would grow to trust the divine and the guiding light of fate itself. He says the most profound things that would touch your soul with an enlightening comfort.

[woods-and-adlers-left-hand-dude]

TREYARCH GIVE ME EDWARD RICHTOFEN AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!

I love Adler and woods but I need this man as well

[widowswineapologist]

a/n: random assortment of hcs for the primis boys! slightly suggestive at times so proceed with caution. i left it kind of ambiguous as to whether this was canon au or modern au so have fun imagining whatever :33

primis richtofen:

♡ - he's the type to spend hours initially researching a very vague question he has and then it spirals into him researching something completely unrelated to said question. don't ask him how he got from reading about greek mythology to how bed bugs mate, he doesn't know.

♡ - (also don't ask him how bed bugs mate.)

♡ - for some strange reason, for as long as he could remember, he just gets the most random and inconvenient of nosebleeds. it has happened so often that he's grown to just be mildly annoyed by it at best and he usually has tissues on hand just in case. for him, this is entirely normal, but one time he got a nosebleed while he was talking to you and you freaked out and he had to reassure you he wasn't dying.

♡ - richtofen always wants to be the smartest guy in the room, but he kind of goes feral whenever you correct him. intelligence is already an extremely attractive trait to him, and passion compliments it greatly. the slight humiliation he feels for being wrong is quickly forgotten when he sees that fire in your eyes as you lecture him.

♡ - if you're not able to read or speak german, he is... not exactly going to teach you. what he is going to do, however, is randomly hand you a slip of paper with what seems to be utter gibberish scribbled on it, and he'll simply ask you to say the word with a completely serious expression. and then he is going to cackle like a witch when you say it wrong. he enjoys the little things.

primis dempsey:

♡ - he's really bothered by how much he can't remember about himself, so as a substitute, he tries to remember everything he can about you. it's incredibly sweet and thoughtful sometimes, but occasionally it creeps you out that he can recall some extremely niche and easily forgettable detail you revealed about yourself in passing several months ago.

♡ - throughout his life, he's had a habit of just... randomly falling off his bed in the middle of the night. he has no idea why it happens, he's just grown accustomed to waking up on the floor with his blankets trying their best to keep him tethered to the mattress. it truly is a sight to behold.

♡ - what dempsey lacks in book smarts, he makes up for in street smarts. he knows a bunch of strange life hacks, random bits of information about generally niche topics, weird remedies for certain illnesses, the works. (if any of you have seen breaking bad, he's kinda got jesse vibes in that regard LMAO)

♡ - he doesn't do it anymore, but during the earlier stages of your relationship, he really liked pushing your buttons. once, in the midst of an argument, you slapped him, and after the initial shock wore off, you frantically tried to apologize, only to be met with the marine giving you a lazy smirk. he wore the red handprint on his face like a badge of honor.

♡ - (you've asked him multiple times if he's a masochist or something and he never gives you a straight answer.)

primis nikolai:

♡ - that one guy that just always has random resources on him for virtually no discernable reason. you need batteries? he's already reaching into his pockets. you need a toothpick? it's your lucky day, he's got a pack of them right here. hell, you need matches? he's fishing an entire box out of his bag.

♡ - nikolai has a strange habit of taking in stray animals. he literally can't help it, he sees a cute, fuzzy little creature in need and he's dropping everything to assist the little guy. it's a little sweet watching him take care of animals like puppies or kittens, but he brought home a bear cub once and that's when it became a problem. you do kind of miss mishka though.

♡ - his upper body strength is INSANE. it's not news to anyone, not even you, but it was a little shocking when nikolai asked you to sit on his back while he was doing push-ups. and he did a good amount of them!! if he noticed your shocked expression when he was done, he didn't mention it, but he does subtly flex in front of you every once in a while. what? he's just proud of his physique.

♡ - it might just be because of where he grew up, but he's always checking if you're cold or not, especially during the night. the second you say yes, he's dropping everything to find you a better coat, or blanket, or he even gives you his gloves. he doesn't want you to be cold :( you're always welcome to leech off his body heat too.

primis takeo:

♡ - the proud owner of a very impressive and vast collection of bladed weapons. he prefers swords by a long shot, but even he can't turn away from a well-forged knife. it would probably be concerning if it was literally anyone else, but it's takeo so it's cool.

♡ - a relationship with takeo is an extremely slow burn, but once you've finally crossed that threshold, takeo is in it for life. he takes the term "ride or die" very seriously, and he's willing to do nearly anything for you. takeo would even kill for you if asked. anything to make you happy. anything to keep blood off your hands.

♡ - takeo is very graceful and collected in all aspects of life, except for the first few minutes after he wakes up. his brain tends to lag behind during those moments and sleep still has a tight hold on him, so it results in him looking completely and utterly bewildered as he takes in his surroundings. sometimes he mutters incomprehensible things in japanese during this, and it's hard to keep yourself from laughing. he's kind of embarrassed by it once he fully wakes up.

♡ - he will NEVER admit it, but he has entertained the thought of being a house husband before. what he found even more embarrassing, however, was that he realized he would be very good at it. he's a good cook, he's a god at keeping things neat and tidy, and he would enjoy having time to himself for a while. takeo will never bring this up, but if you do, he's down for it.

[magneticallyyours]

What fandoms would you like to see more of on my blog? Fics and imagines wise. (From my masterlist)

REBLOG for visibility, with tags if possible >:c

Thanks -w-

[enterwittyjokehere]

Quick little Richtofen x reader headcannon that popped into my head while at work today:

[Reader Fighting period cramps (bc mine are always horrible) but could technically be applied to other ailments as well.]

> In the early years of relationship, if your pain was severe, even if you tried to hide it from him, he would take notice.

> Edward would probably not let you leave the house while like that, he would want to baby you.

> Neither you nor him are going to work... He's playing doctor with you all day.

> Lots of affection.

> Most likely tried cooking for you, but personally I don't think you would have much of a kitchen left after that...

>Would definitely argue with you when you still tried to leave for work.

> probably say some corny sh*t like, "As your medical professional, I firmly believe you shouldn't put more stress on your body than absolutely necessary und as your husband, I think we should listen to your medical professional."

× "What if both my husband and medical professional are being a pain in my a*s."

× "Would you like me to check that out as well, mein Herz?"

> When all else fails, he makes you feel better with some good ol vitamin D

× and that doesn't stand for Dempsey ;þ

Also if you write something similar please lemme know I would love to read an Eddie oneshot like this >_<

[yanderestarangel]

☆ Yandere Edward Richtofen x FTM reader ☆

Tw: Sex, unprotected sex,afab reader, fem anatomy, sub!edward, bottom!reader, smut, light yander themes.

He's sick for you, like, sick as fuck.

He worships you as if you had some kind of power over him, at first he thought you were even a being from another dimension to have that power with him.

But not.

You were just a boy lost amid hordes of zombies like him.

In addition to having been exposed for a long time to the compound

Edward wasn't very sane since college, which made his yandere tendencies worse with you.

You weren't allowed to leave his side, he would be a mess, a mix of whiny puppy and sarcastic madman with everyone around him.

Even the others knew that the best thing to do was to let you close to Edward so he could work well.

Edward met you when you accidentally fell into some kind of portal to your reality.

He offered you help in exchange for sending you home again.

You just needed to scare away zombies along the way.

Edward was enchanted by you, you were the most beautiful boy he had ever met in his life.

He was even thinking of never letting you go.

And he did.

But before he got to know you as a normal human being.

Edward will try to court you normally.

He will get to know you, your likes, flaws, what you love or hate, and mentally write them down.

He will also flirt with you, but it's so bad it comes off as a joke, Edward knows this and does it to make you smile.

If you tell him about being a trans kid he acts indifferent.

His reaction is literally:

"-That's cool... Where were we?"- and goes back to talking about the machine he's repairing.

He'll also give you little touches if you use a breast bandage.

He is a doctor he knows very well the effects and damage that all that can cause.

The others don't stay close to you because of your guard dog Edward.

He even threatened to break the machine just because you and Nikolai were laughing together.

He is extremely possessive.

He and you would have some kind of relationship.

Something like a friendship with benefits maybe.

Yandere Edward! It is of the Yandere mousse type, that is, it is a soft Yandere but more dangerous when it wants to be.

He can give you the whole world if you ask him to, he would literally kneel at your feet and serve you with anyone's head, you just ask.

But he also takes it from you if you're not good with him or try to run away.

Yandere Edward! Is submissive with you on all scales, he is most comfortable with you on top of him.

Either on top of your dick or sitting on your face.

He asks you to put all his weight on it and sit on it like a chair.

He's a masochist too, he loves it when you deprive him of cum or use ropes to tie him up and do bondage.

He is a giver.

He loves to butt heads with you.

You are Yandere's one and only! Edward.

If you've already had a partner, he'll be even more possessive.

In sex he will beg while he eats you from behind for you to say it's only him while squeezing your hips.

If you say it he shakes and falls on top of you babbling words in German.

"-I-I-I adore you so much...I would literally rip my heart out and give it to you, kneel at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on."

I would literally do anything for you.

Anything."

He would talk while shaking and feeling you cry underneath him.

He is also delusional.

So if you plan on just sex he would be pretty pissed off locking you in some shed safe and sound.

If you fought he would tie you to a chair and stare with piercing, sick blue eyes:

"-I really would hate to hurt you but you don't give me any other choice darling."

He would brand you too, maybe a few scars for every tantrum you throw.

[meinlieberdoktor]

1.0 Edward Richtofen: In The Bedroom

The doctor had been cold on the outside, even when you courted him successful. He still kept his professional (if you could call it that) demeanor around you, though with the added romance. It wasn't surprising for him to have sadistic tendencies in the bedroom too; whips, bondage, choking, slapping, spanking, knives and sometimes the threat of a needle were all on the table for him. But after getting him all riled up wether it be with your mouth or down there, the doctor couldn't help but turn into a whimpering mess. Often he would resort to muttering in German in-between whimpers as you purposely tightened up around him to send him over that edge. The same cold hearted doctor was easy to turn into a whimpering mess of a man, and he loved it just as much as you.

[eggsnbac0n]

✧⁠* 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃✧⁠*⁠。

𝚖𝚒���𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚗𝚒

This is where all of my works are and the stuff that I'm working on! It tells you how I'm such an amazing author (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

✧⁠*⁠。RESIDENT EVIL:

Carlos Oliveira:

Love at Work: SFW, fluff

SFW & NSFW headcanons

SFW fluff headcanons

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑ BLACK OPS ZOMBIES:

Edward Richtofen:

Running away to (another) circus

*⁠.⁠✧✷✷ TEAM FORTRESS 2:

Not started yet...

[edvarddichtofen]

Sun's Embrace

Primis!Richtofen x F!Reader

Warnings: None

~~

In the tapestry their love, she is the sun, a vibrant ball of energy. 

Her laughter is like a burst of solar flares, filing the universe with warmth and joy. When she smiles, the whole cosmos seems to shimmer with her luminous glow.

In his eyes, the world seems to fade away, leaving her as the only object in his vision, shining like a bright brilliant star. Richtofen can't help but to bask in her warmth, finding solace in her brilliance. And she, finds comfort in him, knowing that he’ll be there to light up her darkest nights.

Edward is the moon, calm and mysterious, a master of tides and emotions. Just as the moon controls the tides and flow of the ocean, he has the power to soothe and bring a sense of tranquility to her heart.

Her touch is the sun’s caress, infusing and setting his heart ablaze with passion. When they embrace, it’s like a solar eclipse, a celestial event where their love is perfectly aligned, casting a spell upon their souls.

Edward reflects her light, shining brighter with her at his side, and she finds her place in his darkness, bringing hope and illumination to his life; bringing back to life the humanity he once thought was so long dead and to never be revived.

It’s no secret that he was hesitant for her to join them officially with all the “killing and maiming”, but as she grew onto him, every time their eyes met, it slowly felt as if long-lost lovers reunited after lifetimes apart.

The wind would tease the curtains that covered the broken windows of the house they’re taking shelter in.

As Edward look at his beloved, the morning sun gifted its celestial touch upon his lover, creating a halo of warmth and radiance that seemed to frame her with ethereal light as she sat up from the rickety bed.

He believes she illuminated the cold world around them.

Richtofen gazed at her, he felt as if he were witnessing a sacred apparition, a vision sent by the heavens to remind him of the beauty that still existed. He’s witnessed the creations, rise and fall of civilizations, dimensions, yet nothing could rival her.

Her silhouette glowed with a golden hue, as if the sun had chosen to weave its golden threads through her being, transforming her into a celestial being. The sunbeams embraced her, casting a spotlight upon her, making her the focal point of the earth’s admiration.

Her eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky, reflecting the sun’s brilliance, and drawing him into the infinite depths of her soul.

Her smile radiated just like the morning sun that's slowly awakening, warming his heart and igniting a symphony of emotions that swept him away like a gentle breeze.

In that moment, he truly realized that she was his sun, his guiding light, and he basked in the glory of her, feeling the warmth of her love enveloping him completely. 

Time seemed to stand still, he felt like a mortal in the presence of a goddess and he vowed to love and protect her just as the sun loved and held the world, until the end of time.

[edvarddichtofen]

OH MY GOD WEY!!! TE AMO !!! GOD I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH !! I AM BLUSHING AND TWIRLING MY HAIR!! I WAS ON A ROLLER COASTER OF EMOTIONS!

After War Is Over (Primis Richtofen / F! Reader) [WWI AU]

Summary: It's 1917. You are an American medic in the war, crawling through no man's land to save your fellow soldiers. You are captured during you rendezvous by a German field medic -- a dark haired man who's pointing a Mauser at you and bleeding out. You must save him, you have no choice.

You commit treachery -- you fall in love with him, even when you don't speak the same language.

Words: Chapter 1 (this post) - 5,604, Full fic (7 chapters) - 25,216

Quick jump to full fic: (Ao3)

Notes: There is a lot of German in the fic, and I do NOT expect you to understand any of it. That's the point, the reader canonically cannot understand German. You aren't expected to translate anything (but you can if you want to, I might have slipped in a few jokes.)

Tactically translated German (Aka Maxis translating) is in bolded sentences.

1917, France 

Your gaze peaked over the splintered barrier, eyes flicking back and forth as the screams broke out again from no man’s land. The echo made it difficult to pinpoint, and the cover of darkness didn’t help at all – perhaps it was best for the poor soldier, though. 

It has been a few months since you had stepped foot on French soil, and the bright eyes and go-getter attitudes you and your fellow soldiers had was all but washed away in the dreary European conflict. Your forefathers had explained with reverie the honor and glory one can only achieve on a battlefield, but there was no sign of that honor in these trenches. No glory. The realization of that hit when you first climbed down in those trenches and saw the empty eyes of the French and British soldiers whose life this had been for the better part of four years. They were not men, they were walking ghosts, already resigned with their eventual death. 

“Medic!” The man cried out again, the anguish growing in his voice.  

You glanced behind you, soldiers huddled against the other wall, it was obvious they were tuning out the screams. You studied each man in view, no NCO’s, it was now or never. 

You joined as a field medic. Your mother was a nurse back home, so it was only natural you followed in her footsteps. Many a nights under the cloak of darkness did you and a fellow medic crawl out into no man’s land to retrieve soldiers – dog tags if they were already gone. But it was always under the orders of a superior. An officer would judge the frequency of shellings and where they landed, the light levels, and a multitude of other things to determine if a rescue would take place. Tonight was a no-go. The shellings too frequent, the sky too clear. With a trained eye - as all soldiers had, you could see the grounds of no man’s land clearly. It was too dangerous, it was deemed. Do not leave this trench. 

With one final glance, you hoisted yourself up, praying there wasn’t an enemy sniper watching. Hushed exclamations came from your fellow soldiers, some asking what the hell you were doing while others congratulated you for signing your life away. To the enemy or higher command, you didn’t know.  

The mud caked your uniform immediately as you rolled out of the trench. The bright moonlight caught the puddles that littered the ground, illuminating the deadened ground. Barbed wire was everywhere, as well as bodies from both sides. Hands stuck out of the ground, helmets were common too, sometimes with brain matter still inside. These things had once made you gag, but now you were so desensitized, you barely glossed your eyes over them. 

Besides onlooking Jerries, you had to be wary of the ravenous rats that feasted on the skin of corpses. They’ve been known to nibble on living soldiers as well. 

Moans of an injured man found your ears again, and with bated breath, you started to crawl towards it, ever so slowly. 

You awkwardly inched forward, one arm glued to the medkit to keep the sounds to a minimum. Gunfire rang out every now and again, and with how close it sounded, you prayed it wasn’t aimed at you. You got closer and closer to the voice that groaned and cried, becoming more anxious at the distance from the trench. This last push forward was rough, and you didn’t remember anyone making it this far. You looked back, back at the trench you came from. It was a good 40 yards or so. No soldier could have gotten this far under the conditions they were in, right? 

Still, You continued crawling forward, eyes scanning for any and all life, freezing when you finally saw him, the pained soldier in the drab grey uniform 

“Fuck.” You whispered to yourself, shuffling back in a panic. It was a Jerry, pale in the face that contrasted his dark black hair. He clutched his abdomen and even in the lowlight, you could see the red that darked his uniform.  

With every inch backwards, you prayed he didn’t see you. As a medic, your instincts said to go help the poor soul, but you’ve heard stories of them being ruthless. That they shoot on sight, no matter if you were a medic. It would be a twist of irony if you helped him only to be thanked with a bullet. 

Before you could turn around, the hand not clutching his abdomen raised, revealing a pistol that was now aimed in your direction. His eyes snapped towards you. 

„Du rennst, Ich schieße, verstanden?” The German whispered harshly. Fuck. 

There weren't many ways you could play this with a gun being pointed at you. Crawling away would ensure he had a good shot, and running away would definitely get you spotted by snipers. He’s injured… you could wrestle the gun away and…  

That wouldn’t comply with the hippocratic oath, though.  

“Don’t shoot! Medic!” You whispered hurriedly. “Medic, medic.” You did your best to point at the Red Cross armband wrapped around your upper arm with a shaky hand.  

The Jerry lowered his gun slightly, looking at what you pointed at. He was relieved to see a medic, even one that was an enemy. You got a minute to look at the man as he studied your uniform. Dirt and grime settled in the creases of his face and neck. His black hair was caked in mud, even his thin mustache had flecks sticking the hairs together, and his blue eyes seemed to be lost of colour they once had, at least colour you assumed they had.  

The gun was again aimed at you as he started speaking quickly. His voice was like gravel as he spoke in his mother tongue – a tongue you didn’t know. He was angry, maybe scared, whatever emotion it was, it was intense.  

You were at a loss, although some battalions were taught basic German in preparation for dealing with a Jerry, whether pleading for their life or interrogating, you weren't a part of those lucky groups. At most you knew Ja and nein. – and, you’ve heard Gesundheit before, but that was it. Even if you did have a shaky grasp at the language, he was still speaking way too fast. 

“I- I don’t” you faltered, shaking your head. It was clear he finally understood the language gap, he sighed, slamming his fist into the mud before pointing at his injury. 

He wanted you to fix him. You surveyed the man, peering at his injuries as best you could the few feet away you were from him, and shook your head. You grabbed at your collar to get the pin to catch the moonlight. At the right angle, the U.S. lettering showed clear enough for him to see. “I’m American, I can’t help you.” 

He didn’t understand your words, but he understood the shaking of your head, and he knew that what you were pointing to was an enemy pin. The message was loud and clear, and a desperate anger erupted in his eyes again. The barrel was once again pointed straight at you as he whispered harshly. You knew he would be yelling if he could, if it didn’t run the risk of enemy fire. It was obvious he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. 

You looked at the man again and sighed, nodding slowly. If you didn’t comply, you would be killed. When he saw your efforts to crawl over to him, he lowered the gun. It was still aimed at you, but now resting on his lap. He gasped with every breath – you wondered how long he had been here writhing in his injuries.  

As you got closer to the Jerry, you were able to make out more of him. He wasn’t that young, at least not compared to the fresh enlistees that showed up every couple of weeks, but he wasn’t old, like the higher command. Maybe 30-ish if you’d guess. You had thought all Jerries were blond haired brutes – that’s what the fliers that were handed out showed, but he was anything but. He looked like the moving picture star, John Gilbert.  

More importantly though — he had his own Red Cross armband. He was a medic as well . A medic threatening a fellow medic! It became a little more clear why he could have been out here. He might have been on a rescue mission with another medic, but was left behind - what terrible fate if so, why would his comrade do that? Or maybe he was on his own solo mission like you… what a twist of fate. 

You undid his belt and untucked his darkening uniform, pulling it and his undershirt up, exposing the wound for you to see. Blood oozed and stained pale skin, with each beat of his heart came more blood, it wasn’t a bullet, that would be cleaner than this. The jagged wounds that littered his midsection were from shrapnel - a far worse fate. Shrapnel meant shredded flesh, metal poisoning the blood, punctures that are hardly visible to the eye. Hell, this man needed a surgeon, not a field medic.  

As you surveyed the scene, you took a deep breath, trying to figure out what you could do for him. He lifted the gun again in an effort to speed the process along. You were really starting to get fed up with that damn Luger, or Mauser or what ever the fuck he had. You took a deep breath.  

‘ Bleeding, dressing, pain management, evacuation.’  

You sat up the best you could while still being hidden from sight. You grabbed your canteen and used what water you had to wash the mud from your hands. You then reached into your coat to pull out the field dressing kit you had. It was a waterproof pouch that a Limey had given you, and a quick pull at the seams was enough to get it open. Inside held dressings, a suture kit, and what you were after currently – an ampoule of Iodine. You struck the capsule against your leg, breaking the glass to access the element. Half went on your hands so you could begin touching the man’s wounds. 

With a clean rag, you began wiping away the blood, every swipe caused the man to groan. He stifled it the best he could, paranoid of catching unwanted attention. The rest of the iodine ampoule was poured onto his wounds. What mattered most right now was the bleeding, and getting his heart rate down to slow it. Rummaging through your things, you breathed a sigh or relief once you saw you still had morphine left. There wasn’t any water left in your canteen to mix it, but perhaps he still had his.  

“Do you have your canteen?” You asked your captor. 

„K-kantine? Ja.” He nodded, recognizing the similar word, grabbing it from where he had stuck it in the mud. It was half full, which was more than enough.  

You tore open the powdered morphine, pouring in a little water at a time until it became a paste. You wished you had the supplies to inject him with the medicine, knowing it would work faster and be much stronger…. Maybe he did, though? 

“Where is your medkit?” You asked him, after a second, you held up your, pointing to him, then to the bad. “Your medkit, where?”  

„Habe meines nicht…habe es im Kreuzfeuer verloren.” He answered, letting his head roll to the side. After you blankly stared at him, he sighed, shaking his head. „Nein.”  

Unfortunate. What you had on your person would have to do. You looked up to your patient, who watched with distressed eyes. 

“Morphine,” You announced, holding up the packet. 

„M- morphium?” He asked, hope filling his tired eyes. You nodded, which made him slump down, relaxing a little knowing that pain relief was soon.  

The packet of the morphine was rubbed into the wound, and as you waited for it to work, you retrieved a pair of tweezers from the kit, wiping the area one last time to begin extracting the worst of the shrapnel.  

You wished you could take your time, but the severity couldn’t call for it. You unburied the big pieces, and the pieces that were superficial, doing just what you had to do to properly bandage the wound. He still grunted here and there, but it was obvious he was in less pain than before, muttering something into the air. You threw the tweezers back in your bag when it was done and retrieved some gauze, stuffing the bigger wounds with it. They began to stain red, but that was expected. You packed it as best as you could. The only thing left to do was bandage him, so with a roll of bandages you set out to work. You laid the remaining roll of gauze against the wounds as you began to wrap him up. The injured Jerry got the hint and did his best to arch his back for you to pass the bandages under him. At least he was a very cooperative patient.  

Soon enough he was bandaged. You encouraged him to drink water. It was important he kept hydrated. You sat there for a few minutes to keep an eye on the wounds, colour returning to his face. He was still pale as hell, but he was significantly less grey.  

“I don’t think I need to tell you this, but you need to get to a hospital. You will need a surgeon to remove the rest of the shrapnel and stitch you up.” You explained to the black haired man, packing up your supplies. He just stared, eyes narrowing as he tilted his head to one side. You once again felt stupid that you expected him to understand. 

“Hospital.” You said again, this time much slower as if that would cross the language barrier. He shook his head in confusion. “Hospi- fuck. Uh…” You pointed at your red cross again, knowing at least that was universal.  

„Krankenhaus? Ja, natürlich werde ich in ein verdammtes Krankenhaus gehen!” He said quickly, almost in an annoyed manner. 

He said ‘ja’ so you assumed he knew what was meant. You nodded, grabbing his hand to shake it before turning around, beginning your crawl back to the trench. You did what he asked, he will be fine as long as he gets medical treatment soon, you now know that their medics also do these kinds of rescue rounds, so you were fairly confident his men will find him. He might be uncomfortable, but you had more important things to worry about - the American soldier you crawled out into no man’s land to help, who was still out there in god knows how much pain.  

„Nein.” He hissed, grabbing your coat to keep you in place. He all but pulled you back, once again pointing that damn gun. 

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, was he really going to kill you after you saved him? Typical Jerry. They had no respect for the rules of war. Your hands went up in surrender, fear pooling in your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut. This was it, you’ve lived a good life. Short, but pretty good. 

The man sighed loudly, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes to get them open again. He pointed out into the distance, where you knew the enemy trench was. Your heart dropped. 

“No.” You shook your head quickly. “No. Nein .” You were captured right now, but that would be your ultimate capture. There would be no hope of escaping an entire platoon. The thought of spending the rest of the war as a P.O.W. made you nauseous. You’ve heard stories of how the Germans treated their prisoners. You’d be lucky if they didn’t just shoot you on sight – you would just be another mouth to feed. 

‘If he wanted to be saved so badly, why don’t I take him to our trench? ’ Your fellow doughboys would treat him well as a P.O.W., and he’ll see American Freedom at its finest. 

“Krankenhaus? Ja… uh, ours!” You pointed in the direction from whence you came, miming dragging his body that way, and pointing at the Red Cross again.  

He motioned with his gun again, saying something that sounded threatening, and again pointing towards his trench, much more aggressively this time. His face was red and scrunched, it was obvious he would shoot you, and perhaps you couldn’t argue, not with a gun pointed at your face. You solemnly nodded, getting closer to the injured man to help pull him across no man’s land. 

It was slow and strenuous, pulling the Jerry across the mud that tried to keep him in place. You couldn’t move too fast, with how clear it was that night. Even when you got closer and closer to the German trench you had to be careful. Some new recruits were trigger happy, shooting at anything they saw out here, and with you sporting an entente uniform, the probability of getting gunned down was even higher.  

Once the two of you made it to the edge of the trench, the black haired man pulled himself up to peek over, despite the pain and your hurried words of ‘please don’t do that! ’ yelling something in his rough mother tongue to the startled soldiers taken off guard in the trench. They relaxed when they saw his face, some even seemed relieved to see him. Two of them ran up to the side where you and him laid in the mud, grabbing the clothes of the Jerry to pull him into the relative safety of the trench. 

One of them froze when his eyes landed upon you, no doubt recognizing that you did not wear drab grey like they did. His eyes ran from the arm band, to your Caduceus and U.S. pins. He staggered back, reaching for his rifle with trembling fingers. 

„Halt!” Your captor commanded, eyes fierce as he barked at him. More words were harshly directed at the poor boy, you felt awkward being witness to this reprimand, even when you didn’t understand a word. The soldier who backed off slowly put his rifle down, cautiously returning to where he was, eyes burning into yours as if he was afraid you would bite. 

The men pulled the pale man over the side, a few more coming to help when they saw the extent of his injuries. They did their best to be mindful of them. Quickly, he was brought down, and onto a stretcher that was fetched alongside what seemed to be two medics. One soldier stared into your soul with a burning hatred, curling his finger in a ‘ come here ’ motion. 

You took a deep breath and carefully crawled down the side as well, shaking ever so slightly from the fact you were completely surrounded by the enemy. The soldiers’ expressions all ranged from shocked, confused, to disgust upon seeing you. You didn’t miss how some gripped their rifles just a little tighter.  

The man you saved was getting hauled off, hopefully to a surgeon, by a few soldiers that accompanied the medics. The two that originally pulled over into the trench now stood in front of you, grabbing your arms tight enough to make you yelp. They began pulling you deeper in the trench when the dark haired man yelled yet again, apparently witnessing what was happening. One of the soldiers muttered something under his breath as they released your sore arms, instead gently ushering you forward. They lead you to a vein of the trench that obviously saw less traffic than the main avenues. Down into a bunker, you were pushed into a makeshift holding cell that held no light of its own. The door was slammed once the men had walked out, cloaking you in complete darkness, even darker than the midnight you were in.  

You collapsed onto the floor, hyperventilating with your heart jumping into your throat. ‘ This is it. ’ you thought. ‘ I’m going to die here as a prisoner.’ 

— 

You had no idea how long you had been in there. It was too damn dark to check your pocket watch, and the only noise you could hear was the occasional shell and gunfire. The shaking of the ground that accompanied the munitions helped your anxiety none. How disturbingly funny would it be to be killed by your own army’s shells. 

You had calmed down in the unknown time frame and found yourself sitting against a wall, swinging the watch from its chain to keep your mind somewhat occupied. You’ve thought of ways to escape, but all was fruitless. You were tired, and cold, and so hungry. How the hell were you going to get out of this alive? 

—

The door creaked open, flooding the room in faint light that, compared to the complete darkness you were in, was like a spotlight. You shielded your eyes as you sat up, not having a clue when you drifted off to sleep, but looking behind the silhouette of the man who stood in the doorway, it was still night. He approached you slowly, eyes narrowed and rifle held tightly. Oh god, this was it. Instinctively, you cowered away from him, bringing your hands up to shield your face. The man made a grunt of surprise. 

When no bullet rang out, you slowly peeked out from between your fingers, seeing his look of confusion. He slung the Gewehr over his shoulder, grabbing your arm to pull you up. He wasn’t all that gentle with leading you back out in the trench, but it beat the bullet you were sure had your name on it. 

You walked deep into the trenches, away from no man’s land until it became level with the ground, no more a trench, but feeding into a camp of sorts. Soldiers bustled about, a mix of running orders and simple leisure walks. Many stared at you when passing, but seemed to know better than to say anything towards you. He led you to a tent, the red crosses making this medic tent unmistakable. What, were you now going to be an enslaved medic? Helping the enemy? Stitching up the Jerries your fellow soldiers had shot? You didn’t want to make that a habit - it was truly a one time thing. He held the flaps open and ushered you inside the moderately busy pop-up hospital.  

You were pulled along to a separate wing of the tent, an enclosed private area that only held one bed. You locked eyes with your captor, who laid on the cot bandaged up, looking more alive than when you last saw him. His skin was flushed with colour and he was no longer 50% mud - you wished you could say the same.  

Another man was in the room, an older gentleman that sat at a close table. It was littered with maps and correspondence that was quickly covered when the older Jerry noticed you. He stood, giving you a polite nod. 

„Du kannst jetzt gehen.” He said, presumingly to the soldier who brought you here, voice much more relaxed. His deep voice was almost comforting like this, when he wasn’t yelling at you– and pressing his pistol against your head. The soldier turned on his heel, leaving you alone with the two men. 

“Ah, hallo. You are the medic that was took in, ja?” The older one asked. He approached you, reaching his hand out for you to shake. “It is always nice to see a fellow medic, even one from the other side.” He chuckled 

You felt relief, seeing that at least one person here spoke English. You took his hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Yes that’s– that’s me.” 

“I’m Ludvig.” He led you to the table, to a chair that sat between where he sat and the black haired man. He picked up a bottle of Whiskey and poured himself and the other jerry a glass. He grabbed a third and held it up to you in a silent question. You shook your head, declining the drink. “I speak English… obviously. Doctor Richtofen would like to converse with you, I will translate. Do you have any questions?” He gave the injured man - Doctor Richtofen - the glass and sat down, giving you his entire attention. 

“Yes– I’m… not going to die, am I? I mean, I’m only a medic.” You asked, eyes trailing from Ludvig to Richtofen, not sure who to look at as you spoke. Ludvig turned to Richtofen and translated the question. He seemed taken aback by it, quickly answering while shaking his head. 

Ludvig turned back to you. “No, you are not going to die. You saved his life, he is very thankful.”  

You let out a shaky breath, laughing as you composed yourself. “Well, he was very eager to wave his pistol around.” You muttered. You didn’t expect Ludvig to translate that but he did, Richtofen looked sheepish at that. He responded. 

“He apologizes, he didn’t think you would help him otherwise.”  

You sighed, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that. You would have probably done the same thing if you were in his shoes. “Well then, can I leave?” 

“No. As a medic you are an asset to the enemy, we cannot allow for your release.” 

It was a longshot, and you missed. You nodded as you swallowed the lump in your throat. With the feeling of relief still swimming in your stomach that you won't be executed, and the distraught nature of being a prisoner, you couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes. You tried to blink them away, but a tear escaped, staining your cheek. Richtofen saw this and reached to the small nightstand next to him, grabbing and handing you his handkerchief. You took it, dabbing your cheeks, embarrassed you were crying in front of the enemy.  

Richtofen softly asked a question, with Ludvigs words chasing closely behind. “What is your name?” 

You told them men your name, earnestly knowing lying won’t help you at all. Richtofen repeated it, his accent making your name sound so much sweeter. He tasted it a few more times under his breath. “bist du hungrig?” 

“Are you hungry?” 

“God, yes.” 

Ludvig chuckled as he stood, walking to the opening of the tent wing to call over some soldiers. He ordered them to fetch you some food, smiling warmly as he walked back. “I hope you don’t mind leftovers, dinner was over quite a while ago.  

“That’s fine,” You said, turning back to look at Richtofen. He watched you intensely, holding your gaze unabashedly. You quickly look down, admiring the patchwork the docs had done. “No complications during surgery?”  

Ludvig quickly translated your question, answering immediately after he was done. “No, we were able to get all of the metal out, mostly clean stitching, minimal scars. You cleaned und packed the wounds very good, Edward spoke highly of it, und I seen it myself.” 

“Edward?” You asked, looking from him to Richtofen, the way the injured Jerry looked at you answered your question, but Ludvig confirmed it. 

“Doctor Edward Richtofen” He clarified.  

“Oh, right.” 

A soldier appeared at the door, holding a tin mug and utensils in one hand and balancing a metal bowl in the other. Ludvig thanked him and brought the tray to you. It looked to be potatoes and some kind of meat. The mug had what smelled like very strong coffee. You quickly grabbed the bowl and began scarfing it down, not caring about any sort of manner your mother would slap you upside the head for not following.  Richtofen laughed softly, watching as you devoured the meal in seconds. You looked up and caught his eye. Your mouth was full as broth dripped down your chin. You swallowed hard, wiping your mouth with the handkerchief you still had of his. “Sorry, I’m being rude.” You tried to catch yourself. 

Richtofen waved you off once you were translated. „Nein, essen.” 

You drank the last of the broth, along with the coffee, and heaved as you finally caught your breath. Once you were able to think clearly again, you turned to Ludvig thinking about something that caught your attention earlier.  

“You said ‘we’ when you were talking about his surgery… did you operate on him?” 

“Ja. I am Doctor Ludvig Maxis, a lead surgeon. Not only that, but Edward is… a dear friend, I wanted to make sure he got the best care - und that’s me, of course.” 

“Right.” You nodded, looking away with a small smile twitching on your face. American surgeons, German surgeons, they really are all the same.  

A commotion erupted outside the tent, maybe at the entrance of the field hospital. You heard men shouting and groaning, it sounded like incoming injuries. You’ve heard those yells many times. Ludvig quickly stood, walking to the canvas doors to take a quick look. He sighed, walking back.  

“Entschuldigung- I’m sorry, I have to go for a minute, injured soldiers” he explained. He left before you could say another word to him, leaving you with your injured captor, who still looked at you like you were the most interesting thing in this room. 

Well, you probably were, this tent was pretty boring.  

„Ohne dich wäre ich tot.” He said, voice so soft and comforting.  

You still didn’t know German from the time you last saw him to now, and it was getting frustrating trying to grasp even the slightest understanding of this damn language. None of those words sounded similar to English. It sounded… good? He wasn't berating you, so it must be good.  

“Richtofen I don’t-” You sigh, rubbing your eyes. 

He tilted his head to the side, lost in his thoughts with almost exasperated eyes. He wanted to communicate, you did too, but you were both imprisoned by your own knowledge - or lack-there-of. 

He reached his hand out, silently asking for your own. Did he want you to… pray with him? Was that what he was asking? You timidly gave it to him. His bright blue eyes stayed on yours as he brought your hand close to his lips, gently kissing the knuckles. 

„Danke,” He whispered like a praise. „Danke, dankeschön.” 

It clicked. 

He was grateful. 

He dropped your hand when Ludvig returned, almost shooing you away so as to not get caught. You could imagine what kind of trouble fraternizing with the enemy could get him. You sat back down, watching with doe eyes as Ludvig walked over, new blood stains on his uniform. 

“Apologies about that.” He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, getting right to business. “As you know, as a prisoner of war, we cannot let you leave. However, Doctor Richtofen has pulled some strings to make your… living area much more comfortable since you saved his life. It is getting fitted with a cot und a lamp, as well as a water basin - everything that comes with that, und clean clothes. Meals will be brought to you.”  

Your gaze fell to your hands, the reality of the situation setting in even more. This is where you’ll stay for the duration of the war - behind enemy lines.  

Ludvig ushered you up and towards the exit of the tent. You turned to look at Richtofen one last time, who looked at you with just as much intensity. He gave you a nod, as if to say goodbye, which you reciprocated. You had no idea if you would ever see him again. You saved his life, yes, but in turn he supposedly made your stay here more tolerable, so you guess that made you even. He had no real reason to seek you out again, and who’s to say higher ups would even allow that. You looked back at him until you couldn’t anymore, turning the corner to walk out into camp, the sun peeking over the horizon, marking the first day of your new life. 

You were led to the small bunker again, seeing the amenities you were given - everything Doctor Maxis mentioned, as well as a chair, a small table, and a deck of playing cards. Your medical pack was in the corner of the room, it seemed they were allowing you to keep it. Ludvig curtly gave you a nod, wishing you a goodnight. You muttered your own farewell, stripping quickly once he left.  

The water basin was a godsend, finally able to bathe yourself. You flaked off as much mud from your clothes and skin before lathering the washcloth with soap to scrub down. You scrubbed until your skin was red but mud-free, your hair washed and unmatted. You washed your clothes with the now dirty water when you were done, scrubbing, wringing, then throwing them over a beam for them to hopefully dry off. You felt nice being in clean clothes, even if they were German military undergarments.  

You laid upon the cot, the kerosene lantern long blown out. The events of the night kept running through your mind, every mistake you made, every chance you had to turn, or run. But what plagued for some reason was the man you saved, the man who put you in the position you were in now - Doctor Edward Richtofen. He was your last thought before slipping into thrashing nightmares of sleep.

~

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[spearsillustration]

°[Please Fight For Me]°

Notes: I had an angsty idea when at work today and had to write this. I had this idea and wrote down a single sentence. I now have to turn into a whole story. But I do plan on making some of you cry with this so be prepared.---Alright after finishing this be prepared to bring tissues. I'm so sorry. 

Word count: 3,933

Page number: 10.9

-----------------------------------------------------------       After what felt like an endless, dragging fight, my body was completely drained of energy. I could barely summon the strength to keep going, but despite my exhaustion, my mind still searched for Richtofen, desperate to know where he had ended up. It took a moment before I spotted him, and the sight that met my eyes struck me like a bolt of lightning. I froze completely, my breath catching in my throat as I took in the horrific scene before me. My love, the one I had fought so hard to protect, was strapped down, utterly helpless. I could barely process the sight of him, pale and lifeless, as every last ounce of blood was being painfully drained from his body.

        The world around me seemed to slow as I stood there, completely frozen in place, my heart hammering in my chest. The realization of what was happening hit me like a tidal wave, and an icy chill ran through my veins. My steps were slow and unsteady as I stumbled forward, my body moving on its own while my mind screamed at me to do something, anything. Every step felt like it took an eternity, the weight of my feet dragging against the ground as if I were wading through water. My blood ran cold, and the air around me grew still, too still, as if the universe itself held its breath.

        His cries of pain cut through the silence, each one more agonizing than the last, a sound that sent shards of pain through my chest. The closer I got, the more it felt like my soul was being torn apart. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to escape this nightmare, but my body refused to obey. I was trapped in some sort of nightmarish limbo, my limbs heavy, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, and yet I could not bring myself to turn away, unable to tear my eyes from the terrible sight before me.

        I was only a few feet away when, without warning, a rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me away from him. Panic surged through me as I struggled against the grip, my heart lurching as I was pulled back, farther and farther from the man I loved. The sounds of his screams and the sight of his pain seemed to blur together in my mind, but I was helpless to stop it. I was being dragged toward the swirling, open portals, the very things that had brought me here, the very things that were now threatening to tear me away from everything I held dear. My heart shattered as I was pulled further from him, and all I could do was scream in anguish, desperately trying to break free.

        I let out a painful scream, my voice raw with emotion, as another version of Richtofen roughly dragged me away from my Richtofen—the one I loved with every fiber of my being. My sweet, kind, loving Richtofen, who had always cared for me, who had always been my anchor. The one now screaming in agony, bleeding out in front of my eyes. My heart shattered as the new version of him, so cold and distant, showed no concern for the situation, treating me as nothing more than an obstacle to his mission. He showed no sympathy as he tried manhandling me, pulling me away with a relentless force. I felt as though I was being torn in two—my body a dead weight, my limbs unresponsive, my mind too overwhelmed with despair to fight back. I went limp in his grasp, making it more difficult for him to move me, but that didn’t stop him from dragging me forward with a fierce determination.

        My entire being was consumed with helplessness. Every step felt like I was being pulled farther from the love of my life, farther from the man who meant everything to me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face, even though it was becoming harder to bear. My vision blurred with tears, but I refused to look away. His pain, his suffering, was too much to bear, and yet I was powerless to stop it. I could hear the others yelling at me, ordering me to get up, to move, but their voices felt so distant, so hollow. Their words echoed in my ears but didn’t register in my mind. It was like I was in a trance, stuck in place, my body betraying me as it refused to obey.

        The others didn’t make any move to help. Not one of them stepped forward to stop the version of Richtofen who was pulling me away. Instead, they stood frozen, their eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sympathy, but no one intervened. They exchanged glances, each one silently agreeing that I needed to leave, that leaving my love behind to bleed out and die was the only choice. My heart shattered further as I realized they were all complicit in this decision. They were all part of this nightmare, and not one of them was willing to help me save him.

        The voice of the man dragging me away broke through my daze. "Y/N, ve need to leave now," he said, his tone urgent but cold. "The portals are gonna disappear if you don't come vith me."

        I felt a sickening twist in my stomach at the sound of his voice—so familiar, yet so wrong. Even though it was his face, even though it was his voice, I knew deep down that this was not my Richtofen. This wasn’t the man I loved. This was a cruel imitation, a twisted version of him. I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. He wasn’t the person I had fought alongside, the person I had trusted with my heart. He was someone else entirely, and I could feel my soul recoiling from him. My silence was deafening, filled with an overwhelming sense of despair. But with every passing second, as my eyes remained fixed on my love’s face, something inside me began to change. A warmth, a burning anger, started to surge through me. It was a rage I had never known, a deep, primal fury that began to overtake every part of me.

        "No," I whispered, barely audible, but my refusal was clear.

        He paused, clearly not expecting it. "Vhat?" he asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

        I felt the heat in my chest intensify, and I could feel my anger rising to a boiling point. "No!" I screamed, my voice sharp and full of defiance. I yanked away from his grip, my strength fueled by the fierce love I felt for my Richtofen. "I'm not leaving him here to die!" My voice cracked with emotion, but the conviction was there, burning bright.

        He stared at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before his grip tightened once more. "You can't stay here," he said with a cold, steely voice. He grabbed both of my arms, pulling me forward with all his might, fully intending to force me through the portal. He didn’t care that I was resisting, that I was fighting with everything I had left.

        His actions were harsh, and unfeeling, as he dragged me kicking and screaming, like I was nothing more than a child misbehaving. My body fought against him with all the strength I could muster, but his hands were like iron around my wrists, his grip unyielding. My cries for help were drowned out by the pounding of my heart, the rising panic, and the growing realization that I was being torn away from the only person who mattered. Every inch that he pulled me away from Richtofen felt like an eternity, my body writhing in desperation, my voice a raw, guttural scream of refusal. But he didn’t stop. He kept pulling, dragging me farther, as my heart continued to break with every step I was forced to take away from the one person who made me whole.

        I saw that I didn't have much choice in the matter but I was not going to leave my love to die alone. I let him drag me seeming that I lost the will to fight but in reality, I was waiting for the perfect moment. It broke my heart to hear my love yell out in anguish as we were all leaving him. His words make my eyes fill up with tears. I didn't plan to leave him so I waited for the perfect moment right as I was about to be pulled into the portal I bit the hand that was dragging me so hard they were forced to let me go so I fell right as they entered the portal. 

        I saw, with a sinking feeling in my chest, that I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. There was no way I could overpower him, and my body drained from the fight and the shock was unwilling to continue resisting. But even though I was physically beaten, I would not leave my love to die alone. Not like this. The thought of abandoning him was unbearable, and deep down, I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him suffer, couldn’t let him be taken from me without a fight.

        I let them drag me, seemingly surrendering to the inevitable, my body going limp in their grasp. It looked like I had lost the will to fight, but in reality, I was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment, the one opening that would give me a chance to break free and go back to him. My heart ached as I heard my love's anguished cries, his voice filled with pain and desperation. It was a sound that tore at my soul, and it shattered me completely. His screams echoed in my mind, reminding me that every second we were pulling away from him was another second of agony, another second closer to losing him forever.

        His words, those haunting cries of pain, burned into my memory, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I tried to hold them back, tried to stay strong, but it was impossible. The overwhelming sense of helplessness made it feel like my heart was slowly being ripped apart. Every step I was forced to take away from him felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t let my love die alone. I couldn’t leave him behind.

        But then, the moment I’d been waiting for arrived. As they began to drag me closer to the portal, pulling me with relentless force, I saw the perfect opening—the smallest window of opportunity. With all the remaining strength I had, I bit down hard on the hand that was gripping my arm. The sudden shock of pain coursed through my mouth as my teeth sank deep into the flesh, and the force of my bite was enough to make him gasp in shock and release his grip. The pressure around my wrist vanished in an instant.

        I tumbled to the ground, the air rushing past me in a blur as I fell, but I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. I knew I had to act fast. I had only moments before they realized what had happened and tried to drag me back again. But as I lay there on the cold ground, the last remnants of hope still alive within me, I gathered every ounce of courage and strength I had left. My heart was racing, each beat louder than the last, but it was a heart full of love, and I was determined not to let go of that.

        I knew that I wasn’t leaving him behind, not without a fight. As I hit the ground, my body rolled instinctively, pushing me back toward the space between the portals, towards the fading light that still held my love’s presence. The others were already being pulled into the portal, but I wasn’t going to let them take me without one last chance.

        I could still hear him in the distance, his cries echoing in my mind as I gathered myself. The portal’s edge flickered before me, but my resolve was stronger. I wasn’t going to let them pull me in. I wasn’t leaving him behind.

        The portals shut behind me with an agonizing finality, sealing off any chance of return. I felt the weight of their closure in my chest as if a part of me was locked away with them, lost forever. The men, the ones who had dragged me away from my love, were gone now, sucked into the swirling chaos of the portal, leaving nothing behind but the echo of their departure. The world felt eerily quiet as if the very air was holding its breath in the wake of their disappearance. I stood there, frozen for a moment, my heart racing in my chest, trying to process what had just happened. The thought of them all being gone—vanished into nothingness—should have given me relief, but all I could feel was the overwhelming urgency to reach Richtofen.

        My mind was still spinning, but there was no time to waste. I couldn’t let him suffer alone, not for a second longer. I stumbled forward, my legs shaking beneath me, barely able to support my weight after everything I’d been through. Each step felt like it took an eternity as if my body was rebelling against the sheer emotional and physical toll of the events that had just unfolded. But my determination pushed me forward. No matter how weak or exhausted I felt, I had to reach him. I couldn’t let him die alone.

        As I made my way toward him, my breath came in ragged gasps, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face as I neared his prone form, my body trembling with a mixture of fear, relief, and sorrow. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, and it felt like the ground beneath me was shifting with every step. But nothing else mattered now. I had to get to him.

        The closer I got, the more real the situation became, and the sight of him—so broken, so lifeless—nearly stopped my heart. My love, the one I had fought so hard to protect, lay there, vulnerable and injured, his blood staining the ground around him. His chest rose and fell, slow and labored, but I could see the pain in every breath he took. My stomach churned, and my breath hitched in my throat as I knelt beside him, my hands reaching out to gently touch his face.

        "Richtofen," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please, stay with me."

        I couldn't lose him. Not now, not like this. My fingers traced the lines of his face as if trying to memorize the feel of him, to remind myself that he was still here, still with me. I knew I had to act quickly—he was fading, slipping away with every passing second—but I couldn’t help the flood of emotions that overwhelmed me.

        I needed to be strong for him, but the thought of losing him was unbearable. My mind raced, trying to figure out what I could do, and how I could save him from this fate. The cold wind whistled around us, the world still and silent as I held him close, willing him to fight, to stay with me. "Please," I whispered again, my voice a desperate plea. "Please don’t leave me."

        With every passing moment, I felt the crushing weight of the situation, but I refused to give up. I wouldn’t leave him to die. Not when there was still hope, not when there was still a chance.

        I looked at the cold, metallic machine he was strapped down to, my heart sinking in my chest. It was a horrifying sight, one I could barely process. The machine was intricate and clinical, with wires and tubes running everywhere, all connected to his fragile form. He was bound to it, helpless, his body completely restrained, and the needles protruding from his skin made it clear that whatever this was, it was not for his benefit. The blood was being drained from him in steady, relentless streams, his life force slipping away with each passing second. My stomach churned at the sight. Every part of me screamed in protest, but I didn’t know what to do. I felt utterly helpless, completely powerless against the machinery that was draining him.

        "How do I get you out of this?" I whispered, my voice shaky and full of panic, my eyes darting from the restraints to the various wires, unsure where to start, unsure if I could even do anything. My hands trembled as I reached out, brushing over the cold, sterile surfaces of the machine. Every part of it felt alien, too complex, too beyond my ability to understand or dismantle. The realization that I might not have the skill or knowledge to save him made my chest tighten, and a cold, suffocating dread settled in the pit of my stomach. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t stay attached to this monstrosity, trapped in this cruel device.

        “How do I help you?” I asked again, more urgently this time, my voice breaking as the overwhelming panic surged within me. The question was barely a whisper, but it hung in the air, desperate and helpless. My fingers ran over the sharp edges of the tubes, feeling the strange, unnatural hum of the machine vibrating against my skin. It was as if the very machinery itself was alive, and in that moment, it felt like it was holding him prisoner, and I was powerless to do anything about it.

        I paced around the machine, my thoughts racing a mile a minute, but none of them made sense. What if I did something wrong? What if trying to free him only made things worse? I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him even more. My mind spun in circles, unable to focus, unable to think clearly. I needed to act. I needed to save him, but how?

        His eyes were closed, his face pale and unmoving, and I could see the pain etched into his features, even in his unconscious state. It tore at me, each shallow breath he took was a reminder of how fragile he was, how close to death he was becoming. His body was slowly being drained of life, and I was running out of time. My throat tightened with a sob that I barely held back. The sound of his heartbeat, faint and erratic, was the only sound I heard, a constant reminder of how little time we had left.

        "Please," I whispered desperately, my hands shaking as I looked back at him, "I can’t lose you like this. Please don’t let me fail you."

        I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my racing thoughts, trying to calm the panic that was threatening to overwhelm me. I had to focus, had to push through the fear, and find a way to help him. There had to be something I could do, some way to stop the machine, to break the chains that bound him to this nightmare. I wasn’t going to give up. Not now, not when he needed me the most. My love for him burned fiercely, a fire that would not be extinguished, and no matter how impossible it seemed, I was going to find a way to save him.

        His voice was weak and barely audible, a fragile whisper that seemed to tremble in the air. My heart clenched at the sound, every word dripping with sorrow that cut through me like a knife. "It's too late, Mein Liebling, I'm sorry."

        The words hung in the air, heavy with finality, as if the life that had once been so vibrant within him was now slipping away. Each syllable felt like it was tearing him apart, and it shattered me to hear the resignation in his voice. He spoke as though there was no hope left, as though he had already accepted his fate, and the pain in his tone was unbearable.

        I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of everything he had endured, and it was like a storm raging inside me. The man I loved, the one who had fought so hard, who had been so strong, now seemed like a mere shadow of himself. His body was frail, his breathing shallow, and every breath he took seemed to cost him more strength. I couldn’t bear to see him like this, to hear those words coming from his lips. How could he say that? How could he believe it was too late?

        "Don’t say that," I whispered, my voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please, don’t say that. It’s not too late. I won’t let you go, not like this."

        I reached out, my hands shaking as I gently touched his face, tracing the lines of his skin, as if willing him to fight, to push through whatever darkness had consumed him. His eyes met mine, and though they were clouded with pain, I could still see the flicker of something deep inside—the same fire, the same determination that had always been there. I refused to believe that it was too late. There had to be a way to save him.

        "I love you," I said, my voice breaking as I leaned closer to him, my forehead resting gently against his. "Please fight for me. Fight for us." The words were a plea, a desperate cry for him to hold on, to not give up on the love we had shared. The thought of losing him, of never hearing his voice again or feeling his touch, was too much to bear.

        He looked at me then, his gaze filled with an overwhelming sadness, and for a moment, I thought he might say something else—something that would give me hope, something that would make everything feel like it could still be okay. Instead, his lips parted slightly, his breathing ragged, as if he were trying to speak but couldn’t quite find the strength.

        "I... I'm sorry..." His voice faltered again, the words barely a whisper. His hand, weak and trembling, reached up, brushing against mine, a gesture that was as soft as it was heartbreaking.

        I felt my chest tighten, every part of me screaming at him to keep fighting, to stay with me just a little longer. "Please," I whispered again, more urgently now, my tears falling freely. "I can’t lose you. I love you so much. Don’t leave me."

        But as I looked into his eyes, I knew he was slipping, and a cold wave of dread washed over me. He was fading, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The harsh reality of the situation settled over me like a suffocating blanket, and my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

[angelwheat]

Primis, Nikolai Belinski X Reader

Author's Note: Instead of neglecting writing entirely, I thought I'd keep myself refreshed by writing small stories every so often. Here's one for Nikolai as he doesn't get enough love <3 (gif not mine)

Topics: Hurt/Comfort , Fluff

Pronouns: She/Her | Words: 559

Location: Der Eisendrache

“It’s awfully cold out here.” A gentle voice spoke behind the man.

Nikolai glanced over his shoulder, tiny snowflakes fluttering down, filling the distance between himself and the girl standing in the doorway. His eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at hearing her voice.

“You should come inside.” She suggested, concerned that the man might catch a cold if he remained on the balcony any longer.

The Russian let out a soft chuckle, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “I have grown accustomed to the frigid temperatures,” He remarked politely. “It’s much like home.”

She tilted her head, observing the way Nikolai scarcely gave her his full attention. One could only speculate about the multitude of thoughts that occupied his mind. He was undoubtedly a man of great complexity, yet there were moments when it appeared as though he displayed his emotions openly and simply. In this instance, she could not surmise him.

Pulling her coat closer to her body to fortify as a barrier against the frigid wind, she ventured onto the balcony. Overlooking the courtyard blanketed in thick snow, she approached the rickety railing with caution. She dared not lean against the ledge, baffled at how it hadn’t already collapsed under the weight of snow settled atop it.

In the periphery of her vision, she noticed Nikolai. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was bowed, conveying a weight of emotions that were not immediately discernible.

With genuine curiosity, she posed a question. “What’s on your mind, Nikolai?”

A deep sigh slipped past his lips and into the air as a wispy mist. She faced him completely, her eyes filled with a sense of urgency as they quickly examined him.

Nikolai composed himself and addressed her with sincerity, uttering a single word. “Home.”

With a contemplative frown, she pondered whether he had more to share. As he remained silent, a sense of foreboding seemed to envelope him, casting a dark shadow over his presence.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she moved closer to Nikolai as a cold breeze swept in. He seemed to feel the chill as well, as his shoulders scrunched up and he subtly made a face.

“Do you miss your home?” She inquired with genuine concern.

Nikolai placed his hands in his pockets, maintaining his gaze on the distant horizon, and nodded subtly, acknowledging the girl’s attentive observation.

“Despite the persistent state of war in my homeland,” Nikolai stared down at his boots, hearing the snow crunch beneath his feet as he shifted his footing. “I find myself longing for the comfort and familiarity of my native soil.”

She felt a pang in her chest, contemplating whether it was due to the chilly air or the wave of sadness she felt for the Russian.

“I understand.” She uttered in a gentle tone.

Nikolai softly hummed; his face almost devoid of emotion as he turned to her. His eyes were visibly drooping, clearly weighed down by sheer fatigue.

“Oh, Nikolai, you’re exhausted.” She said, feeling slightly apologetic for being so direct.

Nikolai would be a terrible liar if he even attempted to refute her words, and instead eyed her indolently.

Her arm extended in a courteous gesture, inviting Nikolai to accompany her as she gracefully led him inside.

“It’s Dempsey’s turn to take watch duty.” She informed him. “You deserve some rest.”

[eloisyw8]

it's already midway through January, how does Richtofen feel about Valentines day ? *gives Der doktor a rose*

[widowswineapologist]

ultimis richtofen the typa guy to tell you that you have the kind of eyes he'd like to keep in a jar (affectionate)

[magneticallyyours]

PLEASE brain conjure up some very professional very demure, totally sane Ultimis Richtofen ideas...