Black Clover Oneshots/ Boyfriend/Husband Scenarios

Fuegoleon Vermillion × Reader : The Patient She Couldn't Save

Requested by vvminari Thank you for requesting!

Genre : Angst.

Summary : Fuegoleon originally survives the attack that cost him his arm, but in this alternate universe things change.

Word count : 1076.

Trigger warning : mentions of death. mentions of injury. mention of blood.

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In all the years you had lived, aiding others had always been your best quality.

No matter the when, where, and how, you had always positioned yourself in the front lines, offering a hand to those willing to take it.

Such selflessness was the captivating attraction for those round you, especially individuals from your field of expertise. Yet, it was not confined to that category, for the patients you had healed reserved a warm place for you in their hearts.

Your reputation preceded your presence and your name became heavily associated with prosperous health. Before long, you were appointed as a head medical chief and new recruits began to ask for apprenticeship.

Dealing with captains was a regularity at this point, yet only one of the nine managed to capture your attention; his firmness or his calm, you couldn't fathom the reason he appeared so charming.

The man in question, on the other hand, was helplessly fascinated by your work; from your ethics to your talent, he was marvelled. Fuegoleon was no stranger to love, but for you he desired a deeper notion than its superficial definition.

Thus began a daily exchange of silent wills that could only be transferred by lingering gazes. An eye to an eye. A soul to a soul.

Eventually, on a fateful day came his confession and a bond was allowed to flourish at last. Secret meetings and hushed conversations were all you were permitted, yet you never complained as you waited for the day he would officially court you.

Time elapsed as nights gave way to days and vice-versa. In often days you would find yourself frightened by the concept of time, for it had been years since you started courting your man when it felt as if it occured the day before.

Then it happened.

The news arrived as a storm and all was in shambles. You witnessed the dread and panic in your apprentices' eyes as they awaited your orders; their alert was well justified due to the high chance of having their hands full of their loved ones on sick beds.

Or death ones, in worst cases.

"The kingdom is under attack," you began your command in a grounding tone, "our mission is to tend to every injured or sick in the battlefield. Five minutes to prepare; we leave at my command." Various salutations accompanied by affirmative expressions were your recieved answer.

Without further delay, you curtly nodded before you left to prepare yourself for what was to come next.

~~

The whole capital was in complete disarray. Havoc roared left and right, and no ears were paid to pleas for order. Nonetheless, you and your team retained your composure as you gathered as many injured as possible.

"It's okay, we are here to help." You assured an old lady as you cast your healing magic on the wrinkled skin that had been scratched by fire. Then, you handed her to magic knights who escorted her towards the evacuation area. On her way out, the old woman expressed her many thanks and prayers for your attentive care.

The words planted a smile on your face that sprung as soon as you waved her off. Turning around, a new sense of confidence and determination burned inside you as you scanned the area for more people in need.

Suddenly, a faint cry caught your attention from a close distance, which reactivated your legs and sent you running towards the source. As you neared the origins of the distressed voice, you were able to somewhat recognize the owner before witnessing them.

The wailing and shouts of help were feminine and young, and it sounded to be yelling words of encouragement to a certain, unknown someone.

Yet, nothing in the world could have prepared you for the cruelty that was about to crumple your world into shattered pieces of hope and joy.

You froze.

There, lying on the ground in his own puddle of blood, was the captain of the Crimson Lions. For an instant, void dominated your senses and everything became blank and dull; ironically, such wording was your exact description of Fuegoleon's eyes that bore lifelessly into your soul.

"Fuegoleon." The name barely managed to leave your lips in a whisper. As if by a trigger of survival instinct, you were by his side in a second; the speed by which you moved baffled even Noelle.

As rapidly as your trembling hands could allow you, you hoovered your exposed palms over the empty spot that was supposed to belong to Fuegoleon's arm. Your hands illuminated and magic flew in tremendous portions in an attempt to seal the wound that oozed of an endless, crimson stream.

"Come on, love," you heaved, "do not give up on me." You desperately awaited for slightest form of responsiveness to surface on your lover's dire condition.

Alas, his grimoire continued to fade simultaneously with his life.

"You promised to return home safe." Hefty, salty droplets cascaded down your cheeks into the blood beneath your knees, creating tiny blasts that sounded explosions into your ringing ears, "you promised to return home breathing."

You forlornly hoped that whomever was the writer of such tragedy would spare Fuegoleon's life from the scythe that hung inches above his neck.

"Please." You chanted in despair and anguish, the pattern never failing to remain consistant, "Don't take him away." You prayed to any deity willing to listen.

Alas, your wishes fell to deaf ears as Noelle announced through heart-wrenching sobs, "(Y/n)... He's gone."

You weren't sure when you had shut your eyes, but as you reopened them, dilated, purple orbs gazed at you with the same demolished hope for renewed life.

In denial, you shook your head as hysteria threatened to overwhelm your consciousness; the warmth in your hands extinguished as your magic ceased into nothingness. In one last resort of confirmation, you pressed your fingers into the side of the captain's neck.

The cold that covered his skin seeped through your digits and sent shivers down your spine. In the few heartbeats you awaited a throbbing pulse, an undisturbed, flat surface was your sole response.

Your fists clenched the captain's robe in whole-hearted anger and rejected grief. Uncontrollably, a wrenching scream tore through your gritted teeth as the world acknowledged the stolen life of the Crimson Lions' captain in his thriving youth.

Leaving behind countless, broken hearts, and a healer that wailed her failure to save her last patient.

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