from here to infirmary


Hello, what the hell am I doing here?

Happy Birthday Historywriter2007!

We extend a huge Happy Birthday to one of our contributors @historywriter2007! Sorry it is a little late, but we hope you had a lovely day! To add more birthday cheer to your day, the lovely @mega-aulover has written a special Everlark fic just for you! We hope you like it :)

Title: Rosie the Riveter. 

Prompt: I love historical AUs especially WWII, but will take anything. Some smut would be great too!

Rating: M (Warning Explicit Everlark)

A/N: Happy Birthday @historywriter2007 I hope you had a wonderful day.  A special thanks to the marvelous queen my friend and beta @titaniasfics, you always make me a better writer.

Spring 1942, Virginia; USO Hall

Tommy Dorsey and his band were playing a great set. The hall was filled with Navy sailors and Marines. Each competing for the group of ‘Rosie the Riveters’ who worked at the docks by day and danced at the USO and other dance halls. At the USO, the men swung the girls around and the matronly chaperons were desperately trying to keep the dancing at a respectable level, but that didn’t mean things didn’t happen between the boys and the riveters.

Keep reading

Stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ // Daryl x EDS!Reader

Prompt: Hi I was wondering if you could do a daryl and reader were the reader has a condition it’s called EDS People with hEDS may have: joint hypermobility loose, unstable joints that dislocate easily joint painandclicking joints extreme tiredness (fatigue) skin that bruises easily digestive problems, such as heartburn and constipation dizziness and an increased heart rate after standing up problems with internal organs, such as mitral valve prolapse or organ she also went through early menopause

 A/N: I really hope this is okay, I googled a little bit about EDS before I wrote this to try and write an accurate fic for you guys!

Word Count: 1182

Warnings : Angst, some fluff

Send me a Negan or Daryl prompt!xox

Originally posted by prettymuchdixonalready

“What happened?” Daryl asked, his voice lapped with concern as he ran the back of his hand down your face with a feather light touch.

You shrugged through a strained yawn, your whole body protesting at the small movement. “It was nothing.”

“It was far from nothin’ Y/N,” Rick piped up as he strode into the room. “You fainted whilst on watch, bruised up your left side, caught your shoulder on the fall too, dislocated it.”

Daryl’s stern gaze bored into you, making you shrink further down under the covers, before his eyes snapped up to Rick’s.

“Yeah and why weren’t no one on watch with her?” he growled.

“Tobin was,” Rick answered, feeling uneasy under the hunter’s deadly stare. “He wasn’t quick enough to catch her.”

“Figures,” Daryl grunted. “Lumberjacks like him ain’t exactly the most agile.”

“Daryl it’s fine,” you spoke up softly, placing a weak hand on his forearm. “It’s no one’s fault.”

Daryl wanted to argue the matter, but he didn’t want to put your body under more stress than it was already in.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Rick eventually said, catching the door handle and shutting it behind him.

“It’s not the worst thing to have happened,” you said when Daryl offered up nothing more to the conversation. “I’ll be back on my feet by tomorrow.”

“The hell ya will,” Daryl almost snarled, but he managed to keep his voice gentle. “Yer ass needs ta rest.”

“There’s only so much rest can fix, this isn’t going away Daryl.”

Daryl knew you were right but for months he’d been in denial, trying to keep you wrapped in cotton wool, lead a sheltered life…but that wasn’t one you wanted. He didn’t mean to care about you as much as he did either, it just sort of…happened. From that first day he’d found you in the woods, practically on your deathbed, Daryl had stayed with you day and night, waiting to see if you’d wake up. Once you woke, it was like no one else in the goddamn world mattered. You’d told him of your condition, expecting him to show you the usual pity most did, but instead of seeing that familiar sympathy in his eyes, you saw admiration, and you came to learn that was not something Daryl Dixon often offered.

Daryl saw that there was more to you than just your condition, you were brave, generous, funny, sometimes even flirty (that one always caught him off guard). Although you two had never made anything official, you knew he was all but yours. He went out on countless runs at the beginning, looking for more pain medication, more blood pressure tablets, anything to alleviate the symptoms you were facing on a day to day basis.

You hated it. The thought of him putting his life on the line just to try and help you made you feel guilt to the pit of your stomach. It took a while but eventually he stopped going on so many runs, using that time to hang out with you instead, although you knew sometimes he was being over cautious, not trusting of anyone in case something bad did happen to you.

It had taken time to convince him that he needed to trust you, you wanted to help out, take watches, help garden, help teach the kids about knife safety. You needed a purpose, something more than sitting inside, wasting your days away with Daryl by your side, as much fun as it was.

He understood your need for freedom, berating himself for trying to control you. You told him you didn’t see it as him trying to control you, he just cared for you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Daryl blushed and ducked his head when you said it, murmuring an affirmation, saying he cared more than you knew.

You couldn’t help but fall in love with him after that, in the short space of a few months he’d become your best friend, someone you’d trust with your life. He wasn’t big on the verbal admission but his actions reflected that he felt the same. Gentle face caresses when he had to leave for runs; his hand searching out yours when you were walking side by side; him valiantly scooping you into his arms and plopping you softly onto your bed each evening, his excuse being he thought you might have been a bit tired. He knew that wasn’t the case, he just revelled in the feeling of you nuzzling into his hard form, kissing him on the cheek before he retired to his own room.

“I don’t know what I can do to stop it Y/N,” Daryl whispered, bringing you out of your wandering thoughts.

“You can’t stop it,” you murmured, letting a hand sift through his long hair. “I’m okay.”

“But what if next time yer not?” he asked in a pained expression, his eyes like a wounded puppy dog.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Same could be said for you. We live in the apocalypse Daryl, no one knows if they’ll be here tomorrow. Stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ and just be here in the now, please.”

Your begging tone made his eyes snap up to yours, a small nod following after.

Your hand that was tangled in his hair came down to cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb tracing his cheekbone.

Daryl couldn’t help himself, he turned into your touch, skin tingling at the feather light touch of your fingers running across his face, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm, lips trailing back and forth.

You felt a jolt of electricity spark through your veins at his caress, acting on instinct as you tugged at his jaw, ushering his face closer to your own.

Daryl quickly understood what you were doing, no words exchanged between you as he tilted his head gradually towards yours. You could feel your heart fluttering, in the best way possible, as Daryl’s eyes closed, breaching the last of the distance between you.

His lips were soft and willing, moving with slow, deep movements that had you yearning for more.

His hand skimmed the side of your neck, holding you close to him as he finally pulled away.

“I love you.” The words were out of your mouth before you even had a chance to think about them and you wanted to face palm yourself for even allowing them to slip free.

“Love ya too, Y/N,” he rasped with a quirk of a smile, noticing the blush tinting your cheeks.

You grinned widely at his words, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Ya really do need ta rest now though,” he said noting the moon high in the sky from the infirmary window, reluctantly pulling away. “I’ll be here when ya wake,” he promised.

You finally conceded, listening to your body that was already trying to lull you to sleep, turning on your good side to face Daryl with your eyes closed, a smile gracing your lips as Daryl intertwined his fingers with yours.

Blue Sky is in need of medics!

Originally posted by uniformstories

Got that itch for adventure and a knack for saving lives? Look no further! Blue Sky is seeking any and all capable healers/medics to join their ranks! Whether you’re looking to offer aid on the field and on the job or prefer to work directly from the infirmary, you’ll find a place here with us. 

((BS-RP on Balmung is open for recruitment for any and all kinds of heroes, though we are also actively seeking a new IC head of our infirmary/medics in general. Feel free to stop by ICly at any time or poke any of our officers if you’re interested! Check out our recruitment page/flier for more info!

@pavpatla @keizora @cmazing @dynamitecowboy ))

So Team RWBY, does Blake dislike going to the doctor like cats hate going to the vet? If so, how do you get her there? Maybe some sort of trickery or a carrier? (Asked by anon)
  • Weiss, with a sigh: The only time we ever needed to get Blake to the infirmary was when she got food poisoning this one weekend.
  • Blake, covering her face: Oh my god please don't tell anyone about this.
  • Ruby: I mean. We DID tell you not to get the sushi.
  • Blake, burying her face deeper into her hands out of shame: I thought they would've known how to properly handle fish!!
  • Yang, eyeing Blake and with an 'If you just listened' tone: Dude...we told you like three times EACH not to get it. I mean was a /pizza place/ that served sushi...
  • Weiss, with crossed arms: And YOU, were foolish enough to trust that sushi.
  • Ruby, groaning in the memory: It took all three of us AND Nora to drag you to the infirmary.
  • Blake, now curled up in a ball on the floor: Guys please.
  • Weiss, stomping her foot down: And /I/ had to pay one hundred and twenty lien to get Nora's outfit dry-cleaned because SOMEBODY vomitted on it!
  • Yang, grumpily: Not to mention Ruby and I had to clean the halls from here to the infirmary.
  • Blake, with tears streaming down her face comically: Guys I'm sooooo sorryyyyyyy

“Hi Alec I think there’s something going on with the vampires… I’m on patrol in Brooklyn.” You muttered into your phone.

“Well check it out but be careful try not to get to involved, we’ll portal to you as soon as we can.” Alec muttered before you hung up.


After careful inspection from afar you deduced that the vampires seemed to be having some inner war and that it would escalate unless someone stepped in.

“Stop, you’re going to get people killed.” You yelled, jumping in the middle of the fight, causing the vampires to scuttle away from you.

“This doesn’t concern the Clave, this is over land, now leave.” A vampire snapped at you.


“The Clave has given the New York Vampires to Raphael Santiago, you cannot take this land without the permission of the Clave.” You snapped.

Keep reading


Wrong Turn
By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine. I am just borrowing them for a while and not making any money off of it.
Author’s Notes- This was inspired by the Diavolos/Kenna scene in Chapter 16 of Book Three and her teasing him about getting the “right door this time”, so this was born. It takes place right after Kenna and Diavolos take down Luther. 
Pairing- Kenna/Diavolos
Rating- PG-13.
Summary- Diavolos escorts Kenna back to her room after getting her wounds looked after, but unfortunately makes a bit of a wrong turn. 
Words- 993

“I’m sorry,” Diavolos said again as he lead Kenna towards the infirmary, “I should never even have accompanied him to the throne room.”
“He would have probably just come alone,” Kenna said ruefully, “and he still would have caught me off-guard. Your help made the fight easier.” She reached over and squeezed his hand quickly. “I don’t blame you for hesitating Diavolos. For better or worse, he was your father.” 
She meant it, she understood why it would be a struggle, she was just glad he had made the right choice. It would have destroyed her to have to execute Diavolos, but if he had sided with his father she would have had to. Even if it would have broken her heart. 
“I’ve spent my life blindly loyal to him,” Diavolos told her, “I turned a blind-eye when he made questionable decisions, sure that he was doing what he thought was best. I thought that life had to be lived at the point of a sword and that rulers had to be brutal. Until I met you. You showed me that there was so much to life and ruling and that I could be more than my father’s weapon.”
“Diavolos…” Kenna began only to get interrupted as Annelyse came running from the infirmary.
“Kenna?! Why are you here? What happened to your shoulder?” Annelyse glared at Diavolos. “What did you do to her.”
“He didn’t do anything,” Kenna stepped in, “His father on the other hand…” 
Annelyse’s eyes narrowed. “That treacherous snake! Let me at him, I’ll teach him not to mess with my friends.”
“As much as I would have loved to see that,” Kenna said honestly, “it’s too late. Luther is dead, thanks to Diavolos.” 
Annelyse turned to look at Diavolos, giving him a long careful look and then threw her arms around him enthusiastically. “Thank you for saving our queen, I guess you really are a sweetie under all that black!” 
Diavolos shot Kenna an uncomfortable look and it suddenly occurred to her that he probably wasn’t used to spontaneous hugs. She was about to step in when Annelyse released Diavolos and turned back to Kenna. “We should get that shoulder taken care of.”
A short time later, Kenna’s shoulder was patched up. 
“Please try not to get in any more fights to the death,” Annelyse told her, “it makes me worry and worrying can give you wrinkles.” 
“I’ll do my best,” Kenna promised dryly. She was surprised to see that Diavolos was still there, obviously waiting for her. 
“Make sure she rests,” Annelyse instructed Diavolos, “we have a big night ahead of us and I plan on claiming several dances, so I want her in good shape.” 
“I will do my best, my lady,” Diavolos promised, leading Kenna from the infirmary and down the hall that led to the private wing of the castle and then swung her into his arms. 
“Diavolos!” She exclaimed, even as she relaxed into his embrace, marveling at his strength. She was used to being strong, to being the protector, and she loved that with Diavolos she didn’t have to be. He constantly made her feel treasured, protected, delicate. 
“I’m partially responsible for your injuries, taking care of you is the least I can do.” He told her, “which way to your quarters?”
“So it’s only nobility that makes you want to know where my quarters are?” Kenna teased. 
“I may have another motive,” Diavolos admitted, “but I try not to presume.” 
“Presume away,” Kenna told him, leaning forward to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did so. 
Diavolos groaned and clasped her tighter, kissing her passionately. “Anyone can see us,” he muttered against her lips. 
“Then I guess you need to get to my room fast,” Kenna teased, motioning to the door in question. She knew that kissing in the halls in broad daylight would probably lead to a lot of talk. Not that she really cared since she had already decided she wanted a life with Diavolos, but a little discretion probably wouldn’t hurt.
“You are supposed to be resting,” Diavolos reminded her, but she noticed he sped up his pace. He headed for a door and pushed through it. 
Something immediately felt off to Kenna. This wasn’t her room. “Diavolos, this isn’t…” 
“Kenna?” Whitlock asked, jumping to his feet at the sight of her and Diavolos. “What’s going on? Why are you here? How did you get hurt?” He glared at Diavolos as he said the last thing.
“Long story,” Kenna told him as Diavolos gently set her on her feet, “but for now, let’s leave it at Luther is dead and Diavolos is definitely on our side.”
Whitlock nodded, but she could tell he was curious. She intended to explain the whole thing later, she would just prefer to only have to do it once. “Are you ok? Do you need my help with something? Is that why you’re in my room?”
“No, Diavolos was just helping me to my room and got a little confused,” Kenna explained. 
Whitlock looked between her and Diavolos, blushing slightly. “Oh. Ok. Since you’re here, do you have a minute? I want to show you some of the ideas I have for repairing the castle.”
“Of course,” Kenna assured him, seeing her opportunity for alone time with Diavolos vanishing into thin air. 
“I’ll leave you two to it. I should go inform Zenobia of our father’s unfortunate demise,” Diavolos said politely. His eyes met hers and she could see the desire still lingering there, as well as a silent promise of things to come. “I’ll check in on you later, Queen Kenna. I apologize for the interruption, Whitlock.”
Kenna watched him go, her body tense with interrupted longing. She took a deep breath and then turned to listen to what Whitlock had to say. But next time, she decided, she was going to make sure that Diavolos picked the right door.
- Fin 


The pain is good. It means she hurt the Wildfire more than the Wildfire hurt her. If she wasn’t hurting, wasn’t feeling how heavy her bones were - that would be bad. Would mean that, at any moment, she could just collapse and bleed out.

There’s a roiling flush of heat in her gut, her head. It’s like her blood has been replaced with hot magma, like coals are sitting in her belly. When was the last time she stirred that blistering wrath in her like this? Every throb of pain through her body is a throb of fire.

That’s good too. She can feel the saturation of blood sinking into her gambeson increase, clinging to her skin with wet weight. Despite that, feeling is good. Being able to move as freely as she does is good; no severed muscle.

She wished the rest of them farewell once they all settled from the climatic end of the spar. After that, it’s hauling ass through the Dawnspire grounds. She wants to get the fuck out of there.

She feels suffocated. Ithanar doesn’t have to know that part.

There’s so many people surrounding the perimeter of the pavilion.

Harthen is there.

Of course he is. He wanted to see her fight someone her of her own mettle for once. Well, now he knows just who he has to impress. Fuck. He’s breaking from the crowd. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone else.

Before a word can escape that yapping maw of his, she’s planted the length of one arm against his chest. There is a hiss of pain, derived from the way shorn metal rivets dig into her opened flesh. She can see the blood seep into the cotton of his tunic. Clenched teeth pry apart and there’s this almost unfamiliar slurred growl that comes out,

“Get th’fuck out of m’face.”

Keep reading


Lay Me Down

(Pietro x reader one shot)

Warnings: attempted suicide, all around sadness 

“How can the fastest man on the planet take two hours in the shower?!” You huffed, thumping your pillow, “It’s three in the morning!” Pietro had been acting strange lately. Not turning up for training, avoiding everyone and getting careless on missions. No one seemed to notice too much, but there was something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite catch. Sick of sulking you got dressed and stomped to his room, knocking but getting no answer. Finding the door open you stepped inside.  


The room was pitch black. You carefully made your way to the bathroom, feeling along the walls. Opening the door the steam hits you stinging your eyes and making you cough. The floor feels wet and you fall to your knees, slipping in thick and sticky liquid. What is this stuff?! holding onto the sink you reach for the light switch. 

"Are you in here?” As your eyes adjust to the light you have to stop yourself from screaming. Everything is covered in blood. It pooled around your bare feet, splashes on your legs and all over the walls. A figure leaned against once white tiles, hunched over. It took you a moment to realise who it was, your mind disbelieving the sight before you.  

Oh god, Pietro what have you done?! He was so pale. Deep cuts covered his body, his arms, chest, stomach… there were so many.  He was holding a knife, pressing on his wrist cutting and cutting. He looked up at you with empty eyes, no sign of the man you knew. 

“It won’t stop healing….”  

“Pietro?”  You try to take a step forward but have to steady yourself, grabbing onto anything you can, desperate to reach him.  

“I keep thinking if I cut deep enough, I’ll bleed out before I heal…but it’s never deep enough, never enough…” he was rambling, trying to force the knife deeper into his wrist. 

“Pietro, please give me the knife.” 

He didn’t answer, his eyes not leaving yours a mixture of sadness and desperation as he smiled slightly, slowly lifting the knife towards his neck.   

“Maybe if I try my throat this time?”  

“No!” Screaming you grabbed for the knife just as it began to pierce his skin, throwing it as far as you could into the bedroom. 

“Ce dracu?! Give that back! I have to do this! ” He leapt at you with a crazed expression, so fast and angry, but you managed to block his path.  You tried to hold onto him, but he was fighting so much. Muttering in Sokovian, pushing, kicking, anything to get you out of the way.  He was so much stronger, you struggled to keep hold of him, both of you slipping in all the blood. 

“Pleacă de lângă mine fantomă! Nu mă tortura! Dă-mi naibii cuțitul!”

“Stop! Pietro please… just stop!” You sobbed, you didn’t know what to do, this wasn’t Pietro. You were so frightened of this man he wanted to tear you to pieces to get to that knife, but you knew you couldn’t let him hurt himself anymore.   

“Listen to me, you’re hurting me!”  All the fight seemed to leave him and he fell back against the wall, shaking his head and sobbing. He looked up at you with a broken expression. 

“Have you been sent here to torture me? Is this my punishment?”

You carefully wrapped a towel around his shoulders, and tried to pull him into your arms but he pushed you away. 

“Este singura cale de a te scot din capul meu! De fiecare dată când închid ochii te văd mor! Eu nu pot lua durerea mai! Please let me go.”

“Friday! Get Wanda, get help! please!” you screamed in desperation, keeping a little distance but putting your hand on his.

“I knew you were unhappy but not this, I’m so sorry I didn’t help you sooner,”  you whispered, surprised when he entwined your fingers with his.

"It doesn’t matter, I couldn’t save you.”  

“I’m here Pietro, let me help you.” You tried to reassure him, but he just shook his head, looking at you with such sadness in his eyes.

“You’re just in my head, y/n.” 

"I’m real Pietro, I’m here.” You squeezed his hand, but his mood changed again, his anger returning and he started to stand. You braced yourself for another struggle, unsure if you could hold him back again. 

“No! I let you-" 

Wanda burst in and you sighed with relief, “Thank god, I found him like this I didn’t know what to do!” 

"Pietro! Why do you keep punishing yourself? It wasn’t your fault.” 

Steve and Tony came rushing down the corridor stopping in the doorway, mouths open in shock. For a moment no one moved. Steve was the first, lifting Pietro off the floor, while Tony slowly lifted Pietro’s other arm over his shoulder, the two men gently carrying him down the corridor. 

You stood back as the doctors began to work, tears forming again as he struggled, he was so vulnerable so broken. You tried to clean your hands, wiping them frantically, everything full of blood. The image of him in that shower would not leave you, breaking your heart again  

You sat next to Wanda hoping to silently offer her comfort. She was crying, her shoulders shaking. You wanted to pull her into a hug but held back.  

As the sedation kicked in and Pietro fell into a deep sleep, you waited for Wanda to speak. An hour passed and Steve had come by, forcing Wanda to get some rest. You couldn’t leave him. You held his hand and brushed hair off his face willing him to be ok, knowing it would be a long way back for him. His breathing changed and his eyes began to open. You smiled at him, but he backed away from you and ripped his hand from yours.   

"Its ok you’re in the infirmary." 

You…you’re still here?!“ He grabbed his head, like he could shake the image of you away. 

"How could I leave you?” you asked, confused. 

“But you’re not real!” He was getting agitated, eyes darting around the room like he was looking for help. Why is he so scared of me? 

“I don’t understand, why do you keep saying that?!" 

"You don’t remember?” He finally looked you in the eyes, seeming as confused as you were. The grief in them unsettling you even more. 

“You died y/n." 

"Don’t be ridiculous,” a nervous laugh escaped you but his eyes were serious.

“I got you killed.” 

You thought back to the previous day. After rescuing a group of hostages from a hydra base you and Pietro were heading back to the jet, checking for stragglers. He was being impatient as usual, rushing through rooms without checking them.

“You are so slow why don’t you let me carry you?”

“It’s called being careful. Steve asked us to make sure no hydra agents escaped remember? and you know it makes me puke.”  

He stopped and grinned at you, almost getting his head blown off by the agent that appeared behind him.  Luckily you shot him before he managed to fire. Pietro ducked in shock. Regaining his composure with an arrogant shrug he looked from the body to you, “I could have taken him.“

"You’re welcome, grumpy,” he glared at you and stuck his tongue out, making you laugh.  He hated you calling him that but you loved how it made him smile anyway, “lets go home.”  

“As you wish my lady.” He said sarcastically, taking your hand and turning to pull you out the door.  A gunshot behind you made you both stop dead.  

Why is he looking at me like that? His eyes were wide with horror. It dawned on you as you saw your shirt turn red, blood pooling around the wound in your stomach. 


You looked back to Pietro and tried to smile, but were suddenly weak, dropping to your knees, “don’t look at me like that, it’s nothing, really…I’m fine…”  

Pietro growled in anger, running at the agent ferociously snapping his neck and throwing him against the wall, “You shot her! You fucking bastard!“ 

Still angry he pulled you roughly into his arms, running for the jet and pleading for you to stay with him. His voice was comforting and you wanted to tell him you couldn’t feel the pain anymore, you couldn’t really feel anything. 

"It’s not your fault…”  you forced yourself to whisper, hoping he would hear you before you blacked out.  Knowing he would blame himself.  Everything faded away to silence and you remember only darkness until you woke up in bed. 

“I should have seen him, been more careful, now you’re gone-” You cut him off with a kiss, tears dropping onto his cheek. You felt so much love and regret, wishing you had acted on your feelings while you had the chance. Now you never could. Pietro ran his hand through your hair, holding your face in his hands trying to remember every detail. 

“Please forgive me, I’d give anything-”  You cut him off with another, deeper, desperate kiss, knowing it was your last. 

“Promise me you won’t ever do this again, promise me you’ll be ok?" 

He pulled you into his arms clinging onto you, his warm breath on your neck. 

"I don’t want to see you again till you’re an old man with ten kids and stories of a happy life, you hear me grumpy?” He gave a small laugh and kissed your neck softly, his hands trailing down your back before squeezing you tighter and lifting his face to meet yours. 

“Yes my lady,” you both smiled sadly at the nickname you shared and he brushed the tears from your face, "I promise." 

You closed your eyes and leaned into him pulling him close, one last time.

I guess I had to stay a little while longer, just to make sure you were ok 


ce dracu/ what the fuck?! 

“Pleacă de lângă mine fantomă! Nu mă tortura! Dă-mi naibii cuțitul!”/ Get away from me ghost! Stop torturing me! Give me the fucking knife!

“Este singura cale de a te scot din capul meu! De fiecare dată când închid ochii te văd mor! Eu nu pot lua durerea mai! Please let me go.” / It’s the only way to get you out of my head! Every time I close my eyes I see you die, I can’t take the guilt anymore! Please let me go.

(I used google translate so I’m hoping it’s not gibberish! ;) ) 

As You Wish

Could I have come up with a much more cliche title for this au? nope. 

Princess Bride!au with Westley!Natsu and Buttercup!Lucy


read on and ao3

rating: teen plus for torture, blood, and very slight sexual joking (not in this chapter) 

characters: romeo, makarov, mirajane, natsu, lucy, and others that i will specify later

word count: 1263

type: multichap 

“You feeling any better?” Mira asked Romeo while pressing her hand to his forehead, and Romeo coughed up a storm.

“No,” Romeo said once he stilled, picking up the controller to play his baseball video game. It was the newest game out, and even though it didn’t take much mental effort, Romeo knew that it was the only adventure he’d get in a while since he was sick with the flu.

“Guess what? Makarov’s here,” Mira said, opening up the windows from the infirmary. Light spilled in, and Romeo covered his eyes from the bright sunlight. It had been days since he’d seen it, and he sure wasn’t going outside anytime soon. The flu had hit him like a truck and hadn’t stopped running him over for the past few days.

“Mira, why does he have to come over? Can’t you tell him I’m sick?”

“You’re sick–that’s why he’s here. He always tells the kids stories whenever they’re sick. Why, he even did that for me when I was a girl!” Mira smiled and left the room, leaving a tray of soup for Romeo to eat while he had the story read to him.

“Ah, there you are, boy,” Makarov said as he came in, and Romeo blatantly ignored the man. It was bad enough he was here–and now the old man was going to pinch his cheek!

Sure enough, Makarov reached up and pinched Romeo’s cheek, and the young man sighed with an eye roll.

“I brought you a present,” Makarov said, and Romeo opened it quickly in hopes that it would be something exciting.

“A book?” Romeo asked, confused.

“That’s right. I read that to your father when he was a child, and my father used to read it to me, and now I’m going to read it to you, boy,” Makarov said, nestling himself down in the chair with a fuzzy blanket and propping open the book.

“Does it have sports in it?” Romeo asked, and Makarov chuckled.

“Ha! Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles,” Makarov said, gesturing with his arms.

“I guess it won’t be too bad. I’ll try to stay awake,” Romeo said, turning off his game.

“That’s very kind of you,” Makarov grumbled, and began the story.

“The Princess Bride,” he began, and Romeo already felt his eyes glazing over.

Lucy Heartfilia grew up in a small town west of Magnolia. Her favorite pastimes were taking baths and tormenting the stable boy who worked with the horses outside her father’s mansion. His name was Natsu, and he liked her over any of the other people at the castle.

“Farm boy,” Lucy would call, and the man’s pink head would pop up from tending the horses, “Clean my bath. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.”

“As you wish,” he would always answer, and she would smirk and walk away from him as he watched her.

One morning, she went to the stables and asked for her horse to be fed and watered. “I want him cleaned as well,” she said, and when he looked at her with those eyes that entranced her so, she added a ‘please’.

“As you wish,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. Lucy’s eyes roamed up and down his body as he chopped the lumber for the fire. Her face flushed brightly, and she turned around before he could see. Lucy ran away, only looking back once.

And she found that he was looking too.

‘What is wrong with me? I must have some sort of a fever,’ she thought as she ran, and she went about her duties for that day with thoughts of Natsu.

“Farm boy,” she said another morning, and was met with focused eyes as dark as the river that flowed beside the farm. Lucy gasped at the sight and stumbled on her words.

“Could you–that is, if you want to–please take my horse out for a stroll? He is lonely and I will be up in my room writing all day.” Was that fever catching on again? Lucy certainly hoped so as Natsu’s lip curled  in amusement.

“As you wish,” he said with a slight chuckle, and Lucy found that she liked the sound. As she turned to go back, she found that he was taking her horse out to the pasture to be fed as well.

Slowly but surely after years of working by each other’s sides, Lucy realized that when Natsu said, ‘As you wish,’ he really meant, ‘I love you.’

“Farm boy,” she asked one morning as she made lunch for the afternoon, noticing that he was leaving the room.

Natsu swiveled around to face her, his eyes dark with the knowing that he needed to get work done. But still, his Lucy needed something.

Lucy’s eyes shifted everywhere to find something for him to pick up for her or do for her. She could think of many things that he could do for her, but none of them were appropriate in this setting. Suddenly, her eyes caught a pitcher for him to grab that was close enough to her that he would need to approach her to hand it to her.

“Fetch me that pitcher,” she asked, and within seconds he was approaching her. His eyes were focused but dark with the need of her, and Lucy gulped softly. He stared into her eyes with pure lust, and she wet her lips softly. His arm reached in front of her, grabbing the pitcher and setting it down at her feet.

“As you wish,” he said, and he kissed her with the passion only love could give. For a few moments, they were swept up in their love for one another.

But this passion could only last so long. Natsu had no money for marriage, so he set out across the ocean to find his fortune there. It was a very emotional time for them. As they embraced, Lucy whispered into his ear.

“I fear I’ll never see you again,” she sobbed, and Natsu held her as to comfort her.

“Of course you will,” he reassured her, rubbing her back. He knew that he had to leave, but at what cost? He wanted to marry her, but her father had said no because of his status. A farm boy could never marry someone of her stature.

“But what if something happens to you?” she asked, and he pulled away to look into her eyes. His eyes gazed on hers intensely, and their eyes conveyed the love that their words could not.

“Hear this now: I will always come back for you,” he told her with a slight grin. Lucy flushed at the words, but knew exactly what he meant.

“How can you be sure?” she asked, a tear dropping down from her eyes. Natsu wiped it away with his thumb and held her face.

“This is true love. Do you think this happens everyday?” he said, a brighter smile crossing his face now. She smiled back at him before kissing him goodbye and embracing him once more. Natsu headed off in the direction of the sea.

But Natsu never reached his destination. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, and Lucy was shocked to hear the news. She went in her room and shut the door and didn’t sleep or eat for three days. Her father had to force feed her some food during these days, and she vowed to herself that she would never love again.

Malec AU First Meeting #14 ‘Thunder’

So, I felt pretty pissed this morning an wanted to write something angry and thought I could use the prompt ‘thunder’ which I got on for it … then this happened.

Orphanage AU where Magnus practically lives there and Alec is the new kid

Warning: Swearing

Not edited. Oh, and I wanted to say this for tumblr as well, that if you want to, you can send me one word prompts for a First Meeting. I’ll make a list somewhere of the prompts I’ll still have to write. 


When Magnus heard the first crash, he thought it was the sound of thunder and that the storm they had predicted for this morning already was finally there to cool down the sticky weather of the past weeks. But then he realized that someone was yelling as well and that the following crashes each filled the pauses between those outbursts. 

“Guess there’s a new kid in the house”, Magnus muttered to himself. 

It wasn’t unusual for children, no matter the age, to have problems acclimating when they first got to the orphanage. For Magnus it had been the most difficult thing to accept it as his new home more than a temporary place to stay. He had gotten there at the age of nine. The people who had brought him had spent the whole trip telling him about how others would come to take him home because somewhere out there was a family that was just waiting for him, that would treat him better than his stepfather had after his mother had died. First Magnus had believed and hoped, but as time had gone by, he’d realized that nobody would come for him. But then he thought, as he got to know the other children and the advisors, maybe there wasn’t the need for anybody coming to get him, maybe this was already the new family … they definitely cared more for him than his stepdad had ever done. It wasn’t very hard considering that the guy had tried to drown him, but Magnus still appreciated the place he had at the orphanage.

“Magnus?”, a soft voice sounded from the right. Magnus turned his head to see a young girl with brown hair and those big, intelligent eyes. She had a book clutched to her chest and looked at him apologetically, but Magnus only smiled.

“Hey, Tessa, what’s up?”

The girl cleared her throat and straightened her back. “I am here to deliver a message from our beloved fairy of the infirmary-” Something on the second floor hit the wall again, followed by more yelling that seemed to turn more and more into a simple string of every swear word ever. “- that you shall rise and get ‘whatever idiot is failing at civilized communication to shut the fuck up’.”

Magnus grinned and Tessa copied the expression. “Okay, my friend, tell Cat that I will take care of it”, he eventually said. Tessa saluted and turned around to get back to wherever Catarina was working this afternoon. Saying that the orphanage had an infirmary was saying a bit much, but with Catarina they at least had the most dedicated nurse they could have hoped for and wherever somebody got hurt there was the infirmary. It was actually just Catarina and a suitcase with the most needed stuff, but the children had the highest respect for her. 

Magnus swung his legs over the edge of his bed, threw on one of the oversized shirts he usually slept in and made his way to the second floor trusting that the sound of the ruckus would lead him to said 'idiot’. 

On the second floor were the single rooms for those who needed personal space more than others and also where the more difficult children were placed so they wouldn’t cause an uproar among the others. When Magnus reached the top of the stairs he was greeted by the sound of a door being slammed hard enough that he could hear the wood of the doorframe splintering. He turned right and found two of the advisors standing in front of a door with several objects strewn across the floor. They were all parts of the basic equipment for every one of the single rooms. Metal pots, some shards that probably had been two vases once, a chair which was now missing a leg.

And from inside that one room came another string of curses. “Get lost! Leave me the fuck alone! I’ll sue you for keeping me here! I’ll screw you all over so bad that you beg me to go! I don’t fucking need you! You think you’re so good, but you are just as bad as the fucking rest!”

Magnus raised his eyebrows as he got closer. One of the advisors noticed him and his expression brightened visibly. 

“Hey, Magnus”, he said. “Did you come to try talking to him?”

Magnus gave the middle-aged man a little wave with his right hand. “Hey, Mr. Starkweather. Yeah, Cat asked me to 'work my magic’.” At that he wiggled his fingers like those wizards did in children’s cartoons. Hodge Starkweather nodded, a thankful smile on his lips. The other advisor was a younger woman with flaming red hair that was caught in a messy bun at the back of her head. Magnus looked at her. “What’s the deal with him, Mrs. Fray?”

Jocelyn sighed and shrugged. “We don’t really know, he-” She motioned to the door that got hit with something heavy followed by a new string of curses. “- ran away from every foster family and kicked out of one of the orphanages in the city … I guess they thought the country air here might help.”

“He got kicked out?”, Magnus exclaimed as he’d never heard of a case that bad that not even the orphanage could handle somebody anymore.

“FUCKING YES! AND I’LL PUT ON MY FUCKING RESUMÉ AS FUCKING SPECIAL SKILL!”, sounded suddenly the voice from behind the door, ripping through the silence like thunder breaking the sky. Afterwards it was silent again and Magnus could almost feel the raging heartbeat on the other side of the door. He could picture the other guy standing behind the door with his hands pressed against he doorframe, panting hard from all the throwing stuff and cursing.

Magnus huffed. “Nothing you should be too proud of, kid”, he sneered ta the door. He couldn’t stand people who thought of negative character traits as something they could show off with, the whole bad boy charm had never been something to work on Magnus in general. 

From the other side of the door though came a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t say I’m proud of it … it’s simply the only thing I will ever be exceptionally good at.”

“Oh, look”, Magnus muttered darkly, “it can form curse-free sentences.”


“Aaaaaand we’re back.” Magnus sighed, but nodded at the two advisors. After that Hodge hurried off to look after the other children while Jocelyn only stepped aside a bit so she wouldn’t be directly visible from the door anymore. Magnus took a deep breath am knocked to show good faith and good manners because if somebody spits in your face doesn’t mean that you have to greet them the same way.   

“Fuck off!”, came the expected yell, but Magnus only pursed his lips.

It wasn’t his first encounter with a difficult youth. As the person who had been at this orphanage the longest time out of all the children, he had become a kind of counselor when the advisors couldn’t get through to a new kid. Sometimes it was just easier to talk to someone your own age than an adult, no matter how kindhearted said adult was. 

Magnus himself had had Catarina in the beginning and no matter how rough she might seem on the outside, she still knew how and when to be kind. 

“I’m going to pick the lock if you don’t open up”, Magnus stated glaring at the closed door. “There’s no way I’m going to leave you to soak in your hatred against the world. It’s bad for your digestive system.”

“God, you’re annoying and I’ve only known you for about five minutes. Must be a new record”, came the growled answer through the solid wood. Magnus grinned and stepped closer to the door when he heard the key being turned. 

“Well, it’s one of my special skills and I already have it listed on my-”

The door swung open and Magnus’ train of thought completely derailed, crashed and burned. In the doorframe there stood one hell of an attractive guy. Black hair, piercing blue eyes that tried to kill him from afar. Maybe his skin was a bit too pale to be healthy and his hair was in need of a haircut … or just a brush. His clothes were ripped and torn and way too big. His feet were bare and there was dirt under his toe nails, it had obviously been a while since he’d last worn shoes or even socks. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and carried himself with that kind of stubborn arrogance that was both endearing and seriously annoying. 

When Magnus eyes reached the other’s blue ones again he was confronted with a dismissive eye roll.

“Stop drooling”, he hissed and Magnus felt his resolve to not hit the guy slowly crumbling. But on the other hand there was that big tear at the collar of the black shirt that caused said collar to slip from the right shoulder and Magnus found that he could spend a whole day just watching this guy trying to pull the shirt back up after it slipped down again.

“I’m not drooling”, Magnus growled, “and just for your interest, your good looks count nothing with that awful personality of yours.”

The black-haired youth snorted. “Well, you being pretty doesn’t help to forget the fact that you are terribly annoying either.”

Magnus’ eyebrows shot up and he wondered if this statement had been intended or if it had been a slip up. “Awww, sweetheart, so you think I’m nice to look at, too?”, he teased because he figured that he wouldn’t get anywhere talking nice with this guy. Blue eyes went wide, only to be narrowed into glaring slits right afterwards again. Yeah, totally a slip up, but hey, the new kid had a hidden cute side.

“I hate you.”

Magnus grinned because the anger in the other’s voice was less forceful now than it had been before. “Yeah, I’m not your biggest fan either, Mr … What’s your name again?”

“I don’t have to tell you any-”

“Lightwood”, Jocelyn whispered from her place next to the door, “it’s Alexander Lightwood.”

Magnus grin grew even wider while Alexander aggressively pouted. “I hate both of you”, he hissed and Magnus nodded. 

“Don’t worry, you made that very clear.” Outside the house the rumbling of real thunder could be heard and the first raindrops began hitting the windows. “But for now we are your only option, so act your age instead of throwing things against walls and curses at everything that moves. Also with a behavior like that and your record, the chance of somebody adopting you-”

Alexander’s whole demeanor changed within a heartbeat when the word 'adopting’ passed Magnus’ lips just like the first shot of lightning set the dark grey clouds aflame outside at right this moment. 

“I don’t want to get fucking adopted!”, he screamed uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists at his sides, the slipping shirt collar completely forgotten. “I had this shit often enough already and it’s always fucking the same. First they are like 'Yay, we have a child, we’ll give him the chance of a better life’, but  the moment you come out to them they are like 'What do you mean, you are gay? You don’t look gay’ as if they ordered a fucking fridge and are now upset because the food displayed in the brochure isn’t included! So pardon me if I don’t give a fuck anymore, okay? I can survive on my own, did it long enough before they found me again and stuck me into that shitty place where the staff couldn’t their fucking hands to themselves and then complain when I break a nose or two.”

Another roaring thunder passed over the roof of the house and the rain grew stronger with every second. Alexander’s chest was heaving with taking deep breaths and for some reason the sound of his anger and frustration overpowered even the thunder in some way.

“Okay”, Magnus held up his hands defensively. Alexander’s eyes followed his every move, fury still burning bright within them. “How about we make a deal then? I’m not going to mention the A-word again and you’ll stop trowing stuff at walls and no more yelling at people who don’t deserve it.”

Alexander thoughtfully chewed on his bottom lip while Magnus tried to concentrate on anything but those lips. Eventually Alexander nodded slowly and Magnus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He held out his hand hoping that the other wouldn’t change his mind again after all. 

“Well then, my name’s Magnus.”

Alexander eyed him skeptically before he cautiously stepped closer and tuck Magnus’ hand. His were warm and a bit clammy, probably from clenching them into fists so often.

“I’m Alec.”


“Yes, I prefer the short version of the name over the actual name.”

“Awww, but Alexander is much more-”

“I throw stuff at people who call me by my full name on purpose.”

Magnus nodded with pursed lips. 

And it was like hearing the thunder and waiting for the lightning to strike you down while you can already feel the heavy rain hitting your skin mixed with cold, piercing wind. You long to hear the sound of the thunder again and again because it sounds like the sky is breaking in thousand little pieces, it’s the sound of something new coming your way.

“Well, then let’s get you a bath, so you look presentable for dinner”, Magnus announced cheerfully and pulled Alec close to him, hooking an arm around his waist and dragged him out of the room. Alec’s shock lasted for about three steps before he gained back the control over his body and voice.

“The fuck? Are you kidding me? Hey! Let me fucking go-” A high squeal carried through the hallway when they took the first staircase. “I swear, if you touch my hair, I’ll hurt you!”

The growling thunder filled the sky above their heads almost as if it was laughing about the things that were about to come.