As my description states, this blog will mostly (mostly, not always) NSFW. I'd appreciate it if MINORS DNI. If i know you're a minor and youre following me, you will blocked, no questions asked.
SFW asks are also welcomed! This blog is not limited to NSFW asks. I just made this blog to make sure my main acc is clean (it used to be a pokemon ask blog and AEUGHHH i dont wanna taint their eyes with nsfw shit, i know minors are in there so its better to just make a new acc) and safe for everyone.
Currently, this blog is for FATE asks. Specifically Cu Chulainn(lancer,caster,proto,alter) , Karna, Arjuna, Diarmuid, Archer EMIYA and Achilles asks! With any reader (F/M/NB)
I also do Dead Dove: Do Not Eat topics, those fics will be spoilered after the warnings/written tags before the fic, please heed them.
Im so sorry but for now i am only aware of these characters. Im not particularly well versed in the f/go game because its a personal tick thing about the UI looking old, so im only aware of holy grail scenarios, HOWEVER, after reading and searching up a lot of things, i can write f/go scenarios as well, just not that versed, more versed in stay night, UBW, and apocrypha.
I think thats all for now, if my interest changes, this will be updated. see you soon in my asks.🌱
HELLO SUDDENLY I AM BOMBARDED WITH ASKS WHILE IM ABOUT TO GO INTO LAW SCHOOL AGAIN, hello people from hsr👋 its lovely to see you guys realizing the appeal of fate men LMAO, ILL TRY FINISHING MY ASKS, IM LIKE JUGGLING ART COMMS AND INTERNSHIPS HAHAHA
Hi hello!! I want to request SFW, Archer Emiya x M! master where its the gruff care thingy, specifically the "Sit up and take the olate, im not going to handfeed you" i think that fits him very well
A/N: thank you for the first request, anon, i hope you enjoy this! Its kinda hard to write Emiya's stoic character, but i persist. A side of caster cu in the first half, i hope you dont mind.
3,07k words. Enjoy the read.
A thick layer of silence cloaked your room, broken only by the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. Curled beneath a mountain of blankets, you lay still, your face pale and etched with the strains of illness—albeit your face devoid of life, you feel your cheeks and forehead heating up with each intake of breath you take; your lungs ablaze.
You tilted your head with half lidded eyes, vision blurry as you slowly blink trying to make out the silhouette that's right next to you. You blink several times, attempting to get rid of the foggy haze clouding your mind. Not long, your head manages to recognize the patterns; blue fur robe, black tight crop top— your servant, Caster Cu Chulainn, sat perched on the edge of the bed.
No words were exchanged, instead, you feel his broad hand hovering over your forehead before gently placing it down. You wince slightly from the sudden contact, his hand cool against your fiery skin as your mouth opened slightly, taking in puffs of breaths.
Your heavy eyes are fighting to stay open as you try to peer into his gaze ; Caster's piercing crimson eyes, usually filled with a warrior's ferocity, held a tender concern as he monitored your temperature.
“Master, your temp ‘s way too high,” he sighs, pulling away his hand from your forehead while he lets out a small hiss, placing his hand back down on the sheets, “there's a cooling rune I could use, but I think archer wouldn't like that.”
Archer? Which archer?— your eyes squint as you're trying to figure out which archer he's implying to, that is until you saw the usual mischievous glint appearing in those crimson eyes, decorating his somewhat serious face.
You sighed, closing your eyes. Ah, Emiya. You remembered that Caster likes to tease Emiya about anything when it comes to you. Your archer has never been the type to directly say to you that he cares or worries for your well being, in fact, if you recall his words, it's anything but nice and caring.
You still remembered the moment he snatched the cooking utensils from your hands and said that you're better off not inside the kitchen. You saw the disappointed look in his eyes for a brief moment before your other servants snatched you away, trying to cheer you up.
“Maybe I should use it, see how archer reacts, eh?” your thoughts were broken off and your eyes opened as Caster stood up from the bed, now fully facing you with a sharp grin plastered on his face. One of his hands went up, index finger up and ready to trace shapes in the air, “cooling rune, was it..” his brows furrowed, focusing on his fingers.
With practiced movements, his fingers began tracing shapes in the air; your heavy eyes followed his movements the best you can, feeling tired midway as Caster does an elaborate gesture with his index finger.
Unfortunately, before he could finish, the door to your room opened with a smooth swoosh sound and not long after you hear Caster yelping, followed by the sound of the door sliding shut.
You shifted your head to the side again, facing the door; the pillow felt warm- unnecessarily warm from the effect of laying your head too long on one side. The smell of various foods infiltrated your senses, giving strength to your body as your eyes opened wider.
There, you saw your archer holding a silver tray filled with what seems to be a bowl of soup and some eating utensils, accompanied by some side dishes. The look on his face is the same as always; stern, firm and serious, however, your tired eyes managed to catch a slight glimpse where Emiya's gaze softened upon seeing your state- only for a brief moment before it was masked back by his usual demeanor.
A coughing fit attacked your throat as Emiya placed down the silver tray, laden with a steaming bowl with a quiet clink. A subtle frown creased his brow, a familiar line etched into his face. Your hand went up to cover your mouth as your throat felt like it was suffocating— this really couldn't get any worse.
The scent of the soup, a rich concoction of vegetables and meat, filled the air, mingling with the clinical odor of your room. Emiya's nostrils flared slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the warmth and nourishment it promised.
Unfortunately, You caught a fever during a mission, presumably because of the plants there throwing out some pheromones or something that tickled your nose buds and went further down into your system, causing a fever to ignite within your body as a defense mechanism.
Your servants easily got rid of the said plants, but their pheromones have already gotten into you, and you didn't mind it at first, which was a big mistake leading up to you getting bedridden in the present.
With a sigh, Emiya began to unpack the utensils, his movements efficient yet gentle. Swiftly, he pulled a nearby stool as he took a seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest while he faced your weakened body.
Your chest heaves heavily as your head feels like it's nailed onto your pillow; your eyes that were momentarily strengthened by the scent of delicious food quickly return to their previous state as they look up, searching for Emiya's face.
His expression remained unchanged, his face a mask of controlled indifference. A soft click of his tongue echoed in the quiet room. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but it carried the weight of unspoken words. It was a silent reprimand, a chastising of his master's carelessness.
His eyes, a deep dark gray, scanned your form, taking in the pale complexion and the way the blankets were pulled up to your chin. You feel exposed albeit the weighted blanket covering almost of your entire body, his gaze left no place for you to hide.
For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something akin to disappointment in their depths, a stark contrast to the usual coldness of his expression. It was a fleeting moment, quickly masked by the familiar facade, but it was there, a silent accusation of weakness.
You blinked slowly. Weakness? Why was there weakness? Was your archer thinking you're weak?
You felt small under the weight of that gaze, a sense of inadequacy creeping into your consciousness. You huddled deeper into the blankets, as if seeking refuge from the penetrating scrutiny. Every imperfection, every sign of vulnerability, was laid bare under Emiya's unwavering stare.
The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, as you grappled with a mix of shame and helplessness.
Emiya's gaze remained fixed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His lips were pressed into a thin line, a stubborn set to his jaw. It was a posture of defiance, a refusal to yield to weakness. Yet, there was an undercurrent of concern, a flicker of empathy hidden beneath the layers of stoicism—
—oh. He didn't think you were weak— no, not at all! Your hazy brain and the fact that you're pressured under his stern gaze made you think that you were perceived as weak for falling ill just because of some plant, but truly it was far from that.
Your archer was blaming himself.
He blamed himself for he couldn't protect you, causing you to be bedridden. He blamed himself for not noticing the symptoms sooner, if he did, at least he could have prevented all of this. He was the closest to you, he's been there when you were still learning how to be a better master, he—
"I'm not going to hand-feed you,"
The silence was broken. Emiya's voice was low, a stark contrast to the usual harsh tones. His words were a command, but there was an underlying note of exasperation.
"Sit up and take the bowl." he added, his voice firm, laced with a hint of impatience.
Just as your mind wandered to how Emiya was falling into the depths of self blame, his stern voice rang through your foggy head, clearing all your remaining thoughts about him and forcing you to focus on the possibility of how you were being reckless, causing the archer to be disappointed at you.
Suddenly,the weighted blanket feels a little bit too heavy— they felt like heated bricks stacked onto each other and placed firmly down on your chest as well as your head, your heart skipped a beat at the coldness in Emiya's voice. It was a sharp pang, A wave of self-consciousness washed over you, a deep-seated fear of disappointing your archer.
With a determined effort, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, your body trembling with exertion as your head felt like it was filled with molten lead.
The world spun around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Your vision blurred, and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. Shit. You moved too quickly. You subtly clutched at the edge of the bed, your knuckles slowly becoming whiter than it already is as you try to keep in mind that you don't want Emiya to see you struggling more than you have.
Emiya's figure was a hazy outline, a distant presence that seemed to grow larger and more imposing with every passing moment. The archer's arms remained crossed, his expression unchanged, a silent judgment hanging in the air.
Your body felt like it was on fire, a furnace consuming you from within. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world. But the darkness was filled with the image of Emiya, his stern gaze and disapproving expression. A deep sense of shame washed over you, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest.
Your hands trembled as they reached up to touch your burning forehead. The coolness of your skin offered a brief respite from the fiery inferno within, however, the relief was short-lived, replaced by a fresh wave of dizziness.
Emiya watched with a critical eye as you struggled to comply with his command. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze as he witnessed your determination to overcome the illness. He had always believed in his master's strength, your resilience in the face of adversity.
As your hands found their way to your forehead, Emiya's attention sharpened. Your breathing was labored, your face flushed with fever. A flicker of concern passed through Emiya's eyes, but it was quickly suppressed. He had to remain strong, to provide the necessary support without succumbing to weakness.
Your body swayed precariously; grip on the bed loosening. Emiya's heart skipped a beat. This was not part of the plan.
You were weaker than he had anticipated. Panic surged through him, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach. His arms, previously crossed defensively, relaxed, his hands hovering near the edge of the bed, ready to intervene if necessary.
Then, not even a moment later, his instincts had proved him right. Your head lolled to one side, your eyes glazed over as consciousness slipped away; you found your head landing against Emiya's broad chest with a soft thud.
Your body felt limp as you took shallow and ragged breaths,the heat consuming your vision. Your head could barely manage to register the soft hiss that came out of Emiya's mouth, let alone the feeling of his well toned arms wrapping around your weakened form firmly yet gently.
Emiya had his arms wrapped around you in a protective way while your temple rested comfortably against his chest; the material of his clothing cool against your constantly ablaze skin. He had miscalculated his master's strength, but he admired the way you're willing to push through.
A soft sigh escaped his lips as one of his hands went up, palm pressing lightly on your forehead to check your temperature.
…
Emiya wished he had asked Caster earlier about your temperature rather than just yanking him out of the room by that stupid blue robe of his. If Emiya had known that your temperature was this high, he would've loosen the gruff personality he had while handling you.
His calloused hand slowly pulled away, back to wrapping around your frame; it seems like he was more careless than he'd like to admit.
In your half dazed state, you'd half expect him to scold you for swaying and falling unconscious from such a simple command, but you waited and waited, and the words you expected to hear never came.
Instead, all you got was Emiya easily manhandling you as he lifted you up so that your lower half were now straddling his lap instead of uncomfortably planted on the bed while your upper half leaned against his body. He carefully placed your head so that your head could lean on his left shoulder whilst the rest of your body is nestled perfectly against his own.
The cool warmth of Emiya's body cooled your feverish skin, you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing yourself to lean against him, “..this… feelsh..nice” you muttered the best you can, enjoying his presence.
“..Master, are you okay?” He had questioned as he felt you sneaking your face into the crook of his neck, much like a puppy huddling closer with his litter to seek for warmth.
You answered with a soft hum as your arms went up to wrap around his neck, shifting into a more comfortable position, “mmn,” you had always liked the way Emiya's body would feel against yours— one time he had to carry you away swiftly because an aggressive enemy had ambushed you, and at that precise moment you realized that you wished Emiya would hold you more like this.
Emiya carefully adjusted his hold, ensuring you were comfortable. The young man was limp in his arms, a weight that felt strangely familiar yet utterly foreign. His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying— he had never been this close to you before, never felt his body so intimately against his own.
Sure, he prides himself on being close to his master, but not in this way. Never had Emiya been this close to you, more like he never allowed himself to be this close to you. He cares for you, that much is true, however, he doesn't show it like your other servants.
His care is shown through the foods he cooked you after farms and missions, his care is shown through the way he shields you from attack and carries you away from danger— his care is shown through the way how he wants to see you grow and become a strong master, and he'll be there to support your every step, even if it means being tough on you.
His hands found a natural home, one resting on your back, the other gently tracing circles on your waist. The warmth of your skin seeped through his clothes, sending a shiver down his spine.
He fought to suppress the emotions swirling within him, to maintain the facade of indifference. But the truth was, he was utterly captivated by the vulnerability of the person in his arms.
A sense of protectiveness washed over him, a primal instinct to shield you from harm. He had always been the protector, the one who stood between you and danger. But now, in this moment of intimacy, he felt a new level of responsibility, a desire to care for you on a deeper level.
You stirred in your sleep, your body twitching involuntarily. Emiya tightened his grip, offering a sense of stability in the midst of your restlessness. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, a constant reminder of your illness.
Right. Your illness.
Emiya let out a soft sigh, the sound lost in the quiet of your room. He glanced down at his master, your peaceful slumber a stark contrast to the chaos that had preceded it.
His mind drifted to the bowl of soup, carefully prepared with ingredients specifically chosen to aid in recovery. He had hoped to coax you into eating it, to provide nourishment for your weakened body.
His gaze shifted from you to the tray on the small table, the steam from the soup now barely visible; a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. There was a part of him that wanted to shake you awake, to insist that you eat- It was his duty, his responsibility to ensure your health. But as he looked at your peaceful slumber, a different part of him, a softer, more vulnerable side, protested. You looked so small— so vulnerable in his arms.
A battle raged within him, a conflict between duty and compassion.The soup was cooling rapidly, its medicinal properties diminishing with each passing moment— the soup was indeed important, a crucial step in his master's recovery. But so was rest.
Perhaps a few more moments of sleep would do more good than a bowl of soup…
Emiya's fingers traced the outline of your face, a gentle caress that seemed to deepen their slumber.
With a heavy heart, he made a decision.
The soup could wait. For now, his priority was your comfort. He adjusted his hold, ensuring you were cradled securely against his chest. Your weight was a comforting presence, a reminder of your reliance on him.
Emiya closed his eyes, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest a soothing lullaby. He allowed himself a moment of peace, a respite from the constant demands of his role as a Servant. In this quiet moment, he felt a sense of connection with his master, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared experiences.
Your room fell silent, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the now soft and calm breaths emitting from you. Emiya held you close, a silent promise of protection and care.
