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Finally Did It! - Blog Posts

2 months ago

AHHHH THE FIRST STORM SHADOW FIC I LOVEE AHH THIS IS AMAZINGG FINALLYYYY

Into Death's Arms

Into Death's Arms
Into Death's Arms
Into Death's Arms
Into Death's Arms

Pairing: Storm Shadow x reader Words: 1231 Summary: You and Storm Shadow have been meeting in secret despite being on opposite sides. One night, he arrives wounded at your doorstep, forcing you to confront the feelings you've been trying to suppress.

Into Death's Arms

The night air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth, the streets dimly lit by flickering lanterns. You quickly entered and locked the doors to your small hideout. You had barely stepped inside when a faint rustling caught your ear. Your hand instinctively reached for the blade strapped to your thigh, muscles tensing. Quietly opening the door to the room, you peeked around and saw someone sitting in one of the chairs. You unsheathed your blade and were about to attack when the figure rose from the chair and turned toward you.

Storm Shadow.

His usually pristine white uniform was stained crimson, and his breathing was ragged. He tried to stand straight, gripping his side, trying and failing to mask his pain.

You took a deep breath and put your blade back into its sheath, stepping forward without hesitation. “You’re hurt,” you whispered softly.

"It’s nothing," he muttered, his voice strained. But as he took a step, his knees buckled. You caught him before he collapsed, sitting him back in the chair. "Don’t move.” Your tone left no room for argument, and to your surprise, he obeyed.

You moved quickly, fetching a first-aid kit from the old cabinet and a basin of water from the kitchen. Kneeling beside him, you carefully peeled back the fabric of his torn uniform, revealing the deep gash on his side. He winced but remained silent, watching you work.

"You shouldn’t be here," you murmured as you pressed a cloth against the wound. "If they find out…” You left your sentence unfinished. Being a spy for the Joes, you were well aware of the consequences you would have to face if they knew about your complicated relationship with him.  

"I had nowhere else to go," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I knew you'd help.”

He was right. You would never turn him away. You swallowed hard, hands trembling for reasons that had nothing to do with stitching up a wound. The two of you had been meeting in the shadows for months now — stealing glances at each other, and spending moments that neither of you dared to name. You were supposed to be enemies. But the way he looked at you now, even though his expression was pained, made it clear that lines had already been crossed.

"This is dangerous," you whispered, finishing the last stitch. "Every time you come to me, you're risking everything. Neither of us can afford to be caught. Besides, Snake Eyes knows about this safe house of mine. We cannot risk him walking in on us.”

His fingers brushed your wrist, stopping you mid-motion. "And yet, I keep coming back." Your breath hitched. His eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, softened as he gazed into your soul. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. Then, against all reason, you let yourself lean in. And for once, he didn’t pull away.

After taking a deep breath to regain his composure, he leaned forward and gently but firmly pressed his lips to yours. There was no war, no conflict, no missions to finish, no opponents to battle, and for a moment, everything else vanished into the background, just the two of you existed for this brief period of calm.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. You withdrew and took a look at his wound which looked gnarly even after being stitched.

“You need proper treatment for this.” His eyes darted to his wound and he rolled his eyes. Pulling his torn garment back over it, he sat straight. “This is nothing. I’ve had worse.”

“You were one hour away from seeing your intestines dangle. Seriously, go to a hospital.” He shook his head, kissed your cheek quickly, and got up. You put the bloodied cloth and the first-aid aside and got up after him. “Surely you don’t plan on leaving right now? It is so late. Stay here for tonight.”

For a long moment, he didn't answer. His gaze was distant as he gathered his sword and shuriken.

"I can't," he finally said, his voice strained. You knew he would say that. It was never safe for him to stay there. But you couldn’t help but wish he would stay.  

You didn’t know what came over you but you walked over to him and grabbed his wrist. “Please. Please stay. Just for tonight”, your voice came out as a whisper.

He exhaled, shoulders relaxing as if the world's weight had momentarily lifted from them. His fingers curled slightly around your wrist now, hesitant yet steady. It was a small gesture, but it sent warmth through your chest.

“Alright. But only for tonight. I’ll leave before dawn.” You nodded your head quickly.  A smile made its way to his lips as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. You pulled away and gestured toward the water basin and dirty cloth. “I’ll clean up. You need to change clothes. I think I have some of your old ones in that locker over there.” He nodded and put his weapons back on the table. As he got changed, you quickly cleaned the room and made room for him in the bed. This was the first time he was staying and you did not want to inconvenience him at all.

He walked into your bedroom, which only had a bed, a small table, and a locker. He stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed. "You should rest," you murmured, breaking the silence.

His lips twitched slightly. "You’re the one who should rest. You always worry too much."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I’m not the one who nearly collapsed in my room."

"Touche." There was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. He walked over to the right side of the bed and you had to restrain yourself not to shout at him for taking your side of the bed. He sat down on the bed and you helped him lie back. As he settled in, you took a seat beside him, resting your hand on his forehead.

His eyes found yours and he held your other hand in his. "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked, brushing the strands of stray hair from his forehead.

"For being here. My actions are not easy to come to terms with and yet…”

“And yet here you are and yet here I am.” You reached out, letting your fingers brush over his hand. He didn't pull away. If anything, he shifted slightly closer, his warmth radiating through the space between you.

Then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in. Close enough that his breath fanned across your lips. For a moment, he stayed perfectly still, as if caught between hesitation and surrender. And then he closed the distance.

His lips were warm against yours yet he was hesitant. But when you didn’t pull away, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, he pressed in deeper, letting himself sink into the kiss.

He pulled back slightly and gave you a warm, genuine smile. "You should really stop letting me in”, he exhaled softly.

You smiled back at him. "Then you should stop coming back."

Neither of you moved. Neither of you meant it. Whatever the future held, this moment was yours. And for tonight, that was enough.


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