#stanislaus katczinsky fanfic

[riflerhymeswithtrifle]

Life Is Short

AO3 fic link

Relationship: Stanislaus "Kat" Katczinsky & Paul Bäumer

Word count: 1778

Summary: "Kat's mind felt silent. The only thing he could think was 'Impossible'; It couldn't be possible. It could not. Paul's wound was small. Paul was his only friend. He couldn't be dead. It wasn't logical. It wasn't fair."

Author's notes: -An AU fanfic in which Paul doesn't loose Gerard Duval's papers and gets shot by the farm kid instead of Kat.

-First work published. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

-English is not my first language, sorry for any gramatical error.

***

"I'll be right back." Kat said and went into the woods.

Paul sat down and the man wandered for a while before stopping in front of a tree. Kat was just done when he suddenly heard a gunshot, clear and loud in the middle of the silence. Some birds flew while squeaking. He flinched, looked around quickly and put his trousers back on. He then ran back to where he left Paul.

"Paul? Paul!" Kat screamed and heard some quick steps close to him.

"Kat!" That was Paul's voice.

The man turned to his left and saw his comrade, walking rapidly towards him with his left hand pressing the right side of his stomach.

"Paul..." He looked around and saw, to his relief, no one else. When the young boy was near enough, Kat could see Paul was limping. "What happened?"

"We need to go." The young boy said in a serious tone. He didn't stop to let Kat examinate him. He was too scared to stay there any longer.

"Who fired the shot?" The man asked and followed Paul out of the woods.

"The little kid from the farm." Said Paul, trying to remain composure.

That didn't last long, because he fell on his knees while grunting in pain.

"Paul!" Kat exclaimed and rushed to him.

"This is bad." Paul whispered in fear while laying on the floor.

When Kat took his clothes and pulled them up, he saw a big amount of blood coming out of a small, black hole in Paul's abdomen and staining his skin.

"What a mess." Kat complained. This wasn't planned, not at all. "It's not so big."

"Take out the bullet." Paul said with a small voice.

"I'll leave that to the medic." Kat stated and looked inside of his pockets for a gauze. He found one and placed it carefully on Paul's wound.

"I was once in class at seven years old." The young boy said suddenly. "We were talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up." Kat frowned. He didn't understand why Paul was talking about that, in that moment. "I said I wanted to be a writer." The boy let out an unfunny laugh. "A poem writer. The teacher said I could do something more useful, the kids laughed and said that I certainly couldn't. I should have agreed with them and gone with the first plan."

Kat was left speechless. Was Paul venting because he thought those were going to be his last words? He couldn't allow that. He wouldn't let Paul die.

"Listen." Kat said with an accusatory tone. "Everything's going to be okay, alright? We'll get to the infirmary and they'll fix this. It's not a big deal, won't even be difficult to walk."

Paul slightly nodded and winced. His hand went to his wound, and Kat never in his life felt more guilty. Fucking decision of stealing from that farm, fucking hunger, fucking war.

"For Christ's sake." Kat whispered while looking down at the stained gauze. "Why did it have to happen now?"

Paul looked at him with a worried face, but said: "We have to keep going."

"Yes."

Kat got on his knees, put Paul's arm across his shoulders and took him by the unharmed side of his waist. He got up with an unusually required strength and Paul stumbled a little before steadying himself.

"Paul?" Kat said, before starting to walk.

"Yes?"

"I think you would've been a remarkable writer."

Paul laughed, incredulous.

...

The return felt so much longer and tortuos than the departure. Kat felt the way Paul's body was pressuring him more and more with every passing minute. He tried to shake his friend a couple of times so that he would gain consciousness, but it took Paul less and less time each time to go back to lay his dead weight on Kat.

The man started to panic. What if Paul wouldn't be able to make it?

He shook off those thoughts and intensified his grip on the boy. It wouldn't be illogical if that happened; No one died of a small hole in their waist. Besides, those thoughts wouldn't be any useful; They were there just to worry him and fuck it up again. But Kat wouldn't make a mistake again. He wouldn't let Paul slip, not so near the end. Instead, Kat would talk to Paul to keep him conscious.

That was something he was used to do. When receiving new recruits, it was almost a job he signed up for to calm them. After hearing the first gunshots, or witnessing their first bomb, or coming back from their first attack, the new soldiers were always scared and confused, as if just realising what they actually went to do. Kat had been the same on his first days, but he hadn't had anyone to tell him how to protect himself, or when the explosions were going to end. So he made it his job to take care of the new arrivers (as much as he could).

Kat was lucky he did the same with Paul's company. Franz, Albert and Paul weren't the youngest he had meet, or the most terrified in their first night, but they were certainly the best comrades he could have met. Especially Paul, who didn't have problem on staying by his side at all times, and read him letters, and just talk of anything. Kat was more than glad to take care of him as much as possible, and make bad jokes to pass the time, and talk nonsense just to distract Paul from all the pain and death that surrounded and threatened to ruin them.

This time was no exception, although it was easier to have a conversation with Paul when the young boy actually answered and wasn't about to fall unconscious.

"When we get home... I'm going to make you... a new pair of boots... for Christmas." Kat said between heavy breaths. "Yours seem like they hurt."

Kat wasn't sure if Paul actually laughed, because he heard some happy cheers growing louder in the distance. He turned around while strongly holding his friend and saw two trucks going through the road. Kat smiled with relief and backed off to the side. He left Paul sitting on the floor and looked at the first vehicle. He waved his arm but, to his horror, the truck didn't stop. It kept going, and Paul fell from his arms.

Despite his desesperate screams, neither of the vehicles lifted him and Paul. Kat cursed the men who were happily waving at him and turned his attention to Paul. He tried to lift him up but the boy was too heavy and dysfunctioning to get on his feet, even with help.

Kat noticed blood on his fingers, and with all the strength he had left, he lifted Paul over his shoulders. His friend made some painful noises, but almost didn't move.

...

Kat was going as fast as possible, breathing heavily. As soon as he crossed the infirmary door, he screamed a couple of times for a medic. Paul had stopped whinning of pain a while ago, and the man could feel the whole dead weight of his friend. That wasn't a good sign.

There was a free litter near him, so he bent next to it, sat Paul down and with a hand on his back laid him down. He took a moment to watch his face, which was pale but seemed calm. That was good, he thought. It meant no pain.

When he saw a man in white and stained in red go to him, Kat sighed in relief and sat on the floor. He watched as the medic analised Paul's wound, and then his face.

"You could've saved yourself the trouble." The man said, taking Paul's neck in both of his hands.

"Uh?" Kat hummed.

"He's dead."

Kat's mind felt silent. The only thing he could think was "Impossible"; It couldn't be possible. It could not. Paul's wound was small. Paul was his only friend. He couldn't be dead. It wasn't logical. It wasn't fair.

"But... It's only a small bullet wound." Kat said, standing up.

"Yes, black blood." The medic spoke while walking far from the litter (why was he walking away? He had to cure Paul). "Straight into the liver. His organs are poisoned."

"He's unconscious." Kat insisted. He had to, or the medic wouldn't help Paul. And Paul needed help, but he wasn't getting it. So he had to fight for it.

"No... He's dead. I think I know more about these things than you."

"No. It's impossible." Kat sat next to Paul. "I was... I was just talking to him to keep him conscious." His voice became desperate while he lifted Paul's clothes again. "He's unconscious..." Blood wasn't coming out the black wound. "He's unconscious." Kat kept insisting. He had to make the medic realise Paul was going to be fine if only he could get help.

But when he took the young boy's cheeks in his hand to shake his head, and when he applied pressure to the side of his neck, he didn't get a response. And then the it hit him, like cold water in an already very cold day.

"You see?" The medic spoke again, quite calm to be surrounded by so much death. "He was so unlucky. So young and close to the end."

As he was caressing Paul's face, Kat noticed it's expression was still calm, as though almost glad the end had come. No more pain, no more war, no more hunger.

...

It was a haunting memory. He became that: A memory. Paul Bäumer was no longer a boy, or a soldier, or a body; His youth was taken away from him, people will see him just as another name in the list of the dead, and his lifeless body could no longer imitate his movements and talk as if it was him.

Paul was gone. The only thing left was his memory.

What haunted Kat the most wasn't the fact that this was the loss of a friend, or the death of another boy, or all his wishes for a better life for Paul being smashed; It was that he never got to say sorry. It was his fault, and he could never apologise.

While playing with a "Gerard Duval" information papers, he thought of saying sorry to Paul's family and making sure to tell Gerard's family what happened to their beloved dad and husband. Would that make him forgive himself? Of course not. But he had to do it for Paul. It was the least the young boy deserved.

***

[littlemarylil]

Hello I decided to post my Paul/Kat fanfic that my friend requested. If you're not a fan of this ship, please don't read it, everyone has different opinions about their relationship and I respect it.

[riflerhymeswithtrifle]

I just want to read to Kat and teach him how to write🥺

•AT YOUR AID•

•••

Five months you’d been stationed at the camp for five gruelling cold, wet and lonely months. 

You had left determined to show your family that you weren’t just going to sit aside and allow thousands of innocent men to die.

Your mother chastised you for leaving, and your father well your father had no input on the matter finally agreeing with you for once in your life.

The fiery passion you once had for this role began to slowly linger away, especially after the first few weeks, when you spent days throwing up and crying over the sights you saw. The men’s curdling shrieks still ring heavy in your ears when you lay down at night.

Regiment after regiment came through, men piled in the small rooms, legs broken, arms blown off and gunshot wounds littered around their bodies, barely able to speak or move, but they still found a way to make an appeasing smile and wink with whatever women they saw first, desperate for any form of attention.

The grey skies seemed to somehow get greyer and the ground thicker with mud, making it harder for people and trucks to get through.

As you trudged through the mud of the main square with a spare box of bandages and tape you found while off duty, you looked around at the jumping men who had received letters from their loved ones parading pictures of their lover and families for all to see.

You haven’t received any for the past 2 months.

Looking up, feeling the small droplets of rain beginning to wet your head you knew it was only a matter of time before the dreaded rain started again the tapes and bandages in the lidless box began to darken in colour making you quickly run to find any kind of shelter knowing showing up with wet supplies would be useless.

Making your way into the yards' hallway, you could see the downpour hit soldiers who all just remained unbothered and still staying in the same place, all too tired to move.

As your attention remained outside, your peripheral vision and legs failed you.

Falling forward on to the cold, wet and hard floor, the box now tumbled in front of you and your hands began to sting the gritty mud staining them. The sudden ache in your knees stopped you from getting up straight away.

“Watch where you're going.” The man who sat to the side of you grabbed your arm, his full hand engulfing your bicep as he pushed your pack up to your knees.

“Watch where I’m going ? Took your legs in.” You spat back harshly at the man back, wiping your grazed hands on your uniform, small smears of blood now staining the cotton.

The man grumbled slightly but chose to ignore your words and instead helped pick up the bandages and tape which spilt from the box before handing the battered box back to you.

You took it quickly from his hands and stood to your feet, walking away with no words in between, you got a few meters ahead before stopping in your tracks, making you face the man.

His body sat in the position that had just made you trip, his large back straight against the wall and his legs spread wide, a letter held in his hands.

You walked back over to him, and the sudden shadow made him look up at you.

“Thank you.” You spoke, giving the man a small apologetic smile to make up for your rudeness.

“No problem” he nodded to you, putting his attention back onto the inked paper in his hands.

You stood still for a moment, staring at the man below you, his face was dirty with mud and dark bags rested under his eyes from the many weeks of no sleep. But underneath you saw a ruggish handsomeness in him, his moustache was still neatly trimmed, and his blonde hair still cut nicely despite the ongoing terror happening around.

There was a something cruel yet pained about the expression he held on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed to in sadness but his eyes pierced the paper in front of him mouth had a faint frown present and his jaw was tight as though he was trying swallow a shout.

Yet for some reason you couldn’t seem to feel frightened.

You quickly turned around, realizing you stared longer than needed leaving you once again to walk away.

“Miss.” He called out, his voice was ruff yet held a certain softness in his tone.

You turned back round, staring back at the man who eyes seemingly didn’t want to meet yours.

“Yes.” You replied, walking closer to the sitting man.

“You’re a nurse, right ?” He asked stupidly as though you weren’t stood in a nursing uniform.

“Yes, what else could I be ?” You couldn’t help but smile at his question.

“That means you can read.” He spoke again, playing with the paper.

“And write.” You added.

“Would you read this to me ?” He held the letter out to you, which you accepted.

You crouched down to be closer to the man and began to read the scribbled words.

“Dear Stanislaus

I hope all is well, and you are taking care of yourself out there, we need you back home with us. Our daughter misses you dearly and asks every night when will you return. I’ve kept her worries away for so long and her questions answered, but sometimes I run out of lies to say. Her studies are coming along nicely, and she’s even started drawing beautiful pictures there one of you from when you were last here. I visited our sons …” you paused, looking at the man. His eyes held some softness when you read out his wife’s words, the small smile on his now left at the mention of his son.

“Grave today I read to him like I promised you many years ago. I told him about you and how you were still being a brave soldier. I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you be able to send some money we are running low and if you have not yet put some away I would start to if I was you, it seems like a smart plan. I hope to see you soon, Stanislaus, and maybe we can talk about our future when you get back.  Love Anna.”

You carefully folded the letter over, handing it back to him. 

“Was that your wife ?” You smiled at the man, wrapping your arms round your body.

“Uhh…yes…she was.” The man tucked the letter into his inside coat pocket.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean.” You began to apologize, feeling bad for assuming.

“No, no don’t apologize she left me just before the war, she only writes for the sake of our daughter and my mental state.” He let out a small chuckle at the last part of his words, which for some reason calmed down your nerves.

You looked at the floor before standing up again and picking up your boxes, holding them against your hip.

“Thank you, by the way… for reading this to me.” He smiled at you again, and somehow it seemed a bit brighter than before.

“It was my pleasure sir and if you need me to write one back find me and I shall hopefully be free to help.” you informed the man who sat below you.

“Goodbye Stanislaus.” You bid the man before walking away once more.

“It’s Kat.” He shouted at your back.

“Well, I shall see you around, Kat.” You spoke again, not bothering to turn around.

•••

*Note*

I done it for the three people who wanted it lol 🙏 I hope you all like it I’m not really a good writer but I did try and I’m glad I’ve found other who love this man as much as I do I also decide to have Kat and his wife spilt cause I would have felt to guilt making this man cheat I think he has a daughter but I wasn’t to sure so I just wrote her in anyway and thank you so much for reading x

@iiriashouse @goslingdriver @hauntedbogwitch

[riflerhymeswithtrifle]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Im Westen nichts Neues | All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s) Characters: Paul Bäumer, Stanislaus Katczinsky Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, World War I Series: Part 1 of All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) works Summary:

"Kat's mind felt silent. The only thing he could think was 'Impossible'; It couldn't be possible. It could not. Paul's wound was small. Paul was his only friend. He couldn't be dead. It wasn't logical. It wasn't fair."

[littlemarylil]

I finally posted my Stanislaus Katczinsky/reader fanfic on AO3!

(it's the one originally posted here on Tumblr)

[iriashouse]

*screaming*

here we go again!

[iriashouse]

YEEEEEEEEEEEEES

GUYS IM GOING TO FINISH THE ENCT PART I COMPLETELY FORGOT IM NOT GOING TO LIE

[riflerhymeswithtrifle]

Hi everyone. Please reblog this, it's the revised version of my last fanfic.

And I actually started a series in which I'll post many fanfics of AQOTWF, so, yeah!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Im Westen nichts Neues | All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s) Characters: Paul Bäumer, Stanislaus Katczinsky Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, World War I Series: Part 1 of All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) works Summary:

“Kat’s mind felt silent. The only thing he could think was ‘Impossible’; It couldn’t be possible. It could not. Paul’s wound was small. Paul was his only friend. He couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t fair.”