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justadeadreaper · 4 months

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CW: Gore, Death, Puke, Decaying flesh, Buboes, Blood, Description of the symptoms of the different plagues in The Black Death, Gruesome description of how the representation would look like, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

The most feared plague in history, The Black Death.

Mainly the bubonic plague mixed with its two more deadly brothers the pneumonic plague and septicemic plague. It was the deadliest plague of the time as it ran through Europe, Africa, and Asia and conquered any village, town, and city it found itself in, flooding the streets with blood, mucus, and rotted flesh as once healthy humans dropped dead from the plague that seemed to come from nowhere before it dragged everyone to the Hell it had seemed to have spawned from. It did not care who you were, it did not discriminate, rich or poor, loved or hated, known or not, it would blow out the little life that you had. It thrived off the fear and only seemed to grow stronger as another soul joined the long chain of victims that had already succumbed to the disease. Anywhere from twenty to sixty percent of the population of the time was taken by it.

The perpetrator? Yersinia pestis. The carriers? Fleas. The spreader? Rats but some say it could have actually been hamsters that were stowaways. But how were the rats able to spread? Trading ships that jumped from town to town leaving a deadly gift as it sailed away that would lead to the death of all that were unfortunate enough to live there.

Now you may ask what would happen if you were to catch it and let me tell you it was living torture. It would start with a simple flea bite but that flea was infected with Yersinia pestis causing it to build a barrier in its stomach so no blood could be digested or go into its stomach causing it to build up and be infected by the bacteria, and this blood would be thrown back up by the flea onto the wound infecting it as it would be absorbed into the bloodstream. From entering the bloodstream it could take one of three routes: the lymphatic system, continuing through the bloodstream, or directly to the lungs. If you were lucky enough for it to infect your lymphatic system then you had a sixty percent chance of dying meaning you had a forty percent chance of surviving. Even though you had more chances of surviving it did not mean that you were saved from not suffering, from one to seven, or if you were lucky eight, days of contracting the disease was when it would show symptoms. At first it would trick you into the false belief that you only had the flu. You would have a general feeling of being ill, lethargic and weak which only grew into worse fatigue as the days went on, followed by chills and a high fever which anyone would know just seems to be like a normal cold but then that soon developed into muscle cramps in your aching limbs as seizures overtook the body. Then it would present the symptom that gave it the name the bubonic plague, buboes. These were when the lymph nodes would balloon to become large, painful, smoothe swellings which would occur near the original area of infection alongside the groin, neck, and armpits which would continue to grow until they burst. You also had the issue of your skin slowly beginning to necrotise as it died alongside the lenticulae which were small black dots that would be scattered across your body and gangrene took over your lips, nose, toes, and fingers which all caused severe pain to the point you would rather die there and then instead of waiting it out to see if you had the lucky chance of surviving. Of course there were other symptoms like heavy breathing as your lungs felt like they were being held down by rocks, your own body becoming like the flea as it would start to vomit gallons of infected blood, coughing, gastrointestinal problems, and spleen inflammation, but in some cases even the sleep would be disturbed to the point of insomnia where sleep would be impossible to get as your were forced to stay awake to feel all the pain that riddled your body. But then the worst of the systems came at the final stage as delirium came and took over any rational thought as all organs began to fail from the disease overcoming them and causing them to shut down which only led to a coma, but it all ended the same way, death.

If you were unlucky enough for it to infect your lungs first or just infect your lungs before the other systems became worse then you had a ninety-five percent chance of dying meaning you had a five percent chance of surviving. To make the pneumonic plague even worse you could develop it even after being infected by either the bubonic plague or the septicemic plague; it could also be caught from not just it infecting your lungs after a bite which infected the bloodstream but by also breathing in air borne droplets of the bacteria from another thing that was riddled with the plague. As it would normally be caught after having bubonic or septicemic plague it meant that at first you would present all the symptoms from the other plagues before experiencing the specifics of the pneumonic plague. At first you would think you have a fever but a severe one as headaches, nausea, and weakness run rampant as if it was trying to warn you that this would be no normal bubonic or septicemic plague. Luckily compared to the bubonic plague the time you would suffer with this plague was a great short, even though it would take around three to seven days before the symptoms showed as soon as the symptoms worsened or even showed you could guarantee that you would be dead within thirty-six hours, most likely less. You would be constantly vomiting for three days straight as your lungs slowly began to feel as if they were being sewn shut at each bronchus, only leading to each breath becoming shorter and shorter as you seemed to constantly be coughing and rasping for the tiniest bit of unrestrained air. Then soon enough your lungs would spew out a bloody and watery mess that would stain your tongue with its mercury taste which you would continue to cough out in between the vomiting until you went into shock as your full respiratory tract went into failure and just stopped, finally leading to death.

But if you were the most unfortunate person alive on Earth at the time that every God seemed to hate since it stayed in your bloodstream and completely infected your blood it meant you had no chance of surviving as you had a hundred percent chance of dying. It made the other two diseases seem like child’s play as it normally only took around fourteen hours before it shut down the body, worse of all it could even kill you without showing any of the symptoms. Like the others you would think it was a common cold due to the fever, chills, and low blood pressure but soon enough severe abdominal pain would set in as it felt like you were dying due to the extreme amount of diarrhea which would be accompanied by nausea that only led to severe vomiting. But soon enough the vomit and diarrhea would be filled with blood until it was fully red as the body lost most of its clotting resources from the tiny blood clots that had formed throughout the body so it could no longer control the blood which started to bleed into the skin and organs creating red or black patches of rashes or bumps which could be seen on the skin. The blood clotting also caused necrosis as tissue and organs would die from the lack of blood flow as it all leaked into where it should not, the most obvious spots of the decay were the gangrene in the fingers, nose, and toes. Then the bleeding would extend from not just bleeding in the body but blood coming out from the rectum but most noticeably the mouth and nose where it would come out like a waterfall. Obviously due to the blood leaking into everything it would cause difficulty breathing as it would fill the lungs and deprive it of the blood outside the lungs that was needed to exchange the carbon dioxide for oxygen. And with no blood to deliver the oxygen needed for the organs to live they all would go into organ failure causing the body to go into shock before the final moments where everything went back as it was taken over by death.

As it can be seen all of them had the same outcome, death.

Luckily nowadays the plagues are a simple pest if the person has access to treatment to stop it from progressing further but at the time that The Black Death ran rampant no one had the luxury of those treatments leading most to die who caught it. Masses upon masses of bodies continued to build up only attracting more of the rats then the ones that had already been attracted to the large towns by the excrement and rotting butcher’s meat that made a river through the streets. With more rats that withered away from the disease it just meant more fleas would jump to more human hosts to use which only led to more living corpses to roam the streets as the disease turned people into skeletons while still living before turning them into an actual corpse.

It was understandable as to why humans of the time would be so scared of such a thing as to them it just seemed like their fellow mortals were dropping like lowly flies that would eat away at the flyblown flesh that continued to pile away in mass graves to create more nests for their larvae and eggs to incubate inside. Imagine the terror and fear that must have filled their minds as they did not understand pathogens at the time, to them it would have seemed like divine wrath but no one could think of a reason as to why their Almighty would betray them like this as everyone appeared to be on their best behaviour. They needed something to blame. They found something to blame.

Simple rumours turned into truths.

Somewhere in England there was said to be a village. Small, nothing of concern as it was like every other village of the time. Like every other village it had a butcher, a silent man who was rumoured to once be a knight but no one knew why he was not anymore. He tended to be quiet, avoiding others who were not his friends and family. It was said that he loved his nephew and that if he had enough swigs of barley that you could get him singing and dancing on the roof or you could convince him to give you his primest cuts of meat. He was deemed as normal, he was like everyone else, until one day.

No one knew what happened. It was supposed to be a joyous day to celebrate the coming of winter but it was far from that. Nearly the whole family was found butchered with a precision only expected to be known by a trained killer. The lower left leg and most of the fingers of the right hand of the older brother laid in a puddle of blood but they could not find the rest of his body; the mutilated body of the brother’s wife was spread around slightly from each different part as if when she was being attacked the culprit had went after another member while still holding onto the part it was hacking off; the body of their son was curled into the corner clutching onto the leg of his mother while out of the stab holes that covered his body in ten folds nearly making him unidentifiable oozed out blood into a bloody puddle that collected around his body; and finally the grandmother of the family who was found decapitated in her rocking chair with her head being found outside within the well. The only one not found dead was the butcher and when he returned, covered in blood, everyone turned their suspicions to him. When he tried to explain that he had been out hunting but had been attacked by a large grey man no one believed him, especially when they saw the crazed look within his eyes that could only be produced by when they had let Beelzebub into their soul. Everyone agreed to grab their pitchforks and chase him out so no more could be hurt.

It was only a few months before the figure started to appear across the world. People from the village murmured to other villages and beyond when they heard what the figure looked like in its earlier stage that they believed it to be the same butcher infected with the plague of Beelzebub to infect the world with their sin to bring more to Hell. Everyone believed him to be the reason for the spread of the plague. It was said that if you were to see him within the fields outside of any town, village, or city that all the inside were destined to die.

The Ghost of The Black Death.

A figure that would strike the fear into the hearts of all.

A horde of rats followed behind him in trails as flies buzzed around his head, if he was near you would always see a Black Shuck which commanded a storm alongside it as if they were his hounds of doom brought along to give the townsfolk warning of their dire fates and to pray to the Almighty while they were still apart.

A black coat hid the majority of his body as bloodied rags of old hunting gear of a peasant hung off of skeletal remains with a jaw hanging off his neck as if it was a necklace as it was tied there with rope. Messy blonde hair spread out in all directions as blood leaked out from the tear ducts in a false mockery of the tears that millions had split in their last moments. No nose or bottom jaw could be found, decayed off long ago. The face looked skeletal as teeth, gums, and a tongue were exposed to the bitter air that reeked of death and loss as the cheeks were tattered in form as more skin continued to flake off as it continued to decays; once blue eyes so full of life were left sunken, dead as if they were another victim that had succumb to the plague that the Ghost was said to bring alongside him. A trail of buboes surrounded his neck as if it was a noose to which he could hang himself with as the tail was marked by a diversion of buboes that wrapped around and under his arms to around his groyne. His spine and ribs jutted out for all to see underneath the greyed skin which was littered with blackened patches of decay as branches of red veins leaked and bleed out to leave a path of blood in his wake for all to track him by. Still, as he rotted away, vague faints of the muscular body that had been far gone from its prime lingered where it once remained. The bottom of his calves with his feet and the bottom of his forearms with his hands had turned black and mummified from the decay and gangrene that had taken them over, leaving no remaining sensations within the hands to feel the warmth of a human ever again for the rest of eternity.

If you were to see him late at night, staring into your soul you better pray that The Ghost does not turn you into another soul like him.

#plague!cod au #plague simon #plague ghost #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #cw: gore #cw: death #cw: sickness #cw: puke #cw: decay #bubonic plague #the black death

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multifanderwrites · 3 months

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Lorenzo di Lamberti x Autistic!Jewish!Reader (Well… Technically, Writer) Head Canons (With NSFW bc Virgin Territory) Part 1

[yes, I am fully aware that Jews were not treated like humans in Florence during the bubonic plague, but I raise you this question: can I please fantasize about yet another Hayden Christensen character and pretend, please? Also, the insert character doesn’t really know that she’s Jewish. That’s important to the plot. The basic message of this fic isn’t “converting to another religion to be with a love interest solves everything”; tbh, I didn’t really have any specific plot in mind for this, but then I thought it would be cool to see Lorenzo have an adventure outside of the one he has in Virgin Territory. Actually, I might have used some elements from “The Princess Bride” because I thought it would be fun to see Lorenzo and the reader having to recruit help from some sort of comedic duo who were… you’ll see. Also, TW for lots of antisemitism and ableism. But not from Lorenzo, for obvious reasons. K, bye]

You know you’re different. You’ve always known that.

You don’t look at all like your parents, and you don’t look like your sister. You look like no one else in Florence.

You feel out of place… and everyone else seems to know it too.

You have yet to meet someone that doesn’t treat you as a stranger in your own home.

That is, until you meet Lorenzo Di Lamberti.

To say that he’s handsome would be an understatement.

He’s a gorgeous man. Very, very charming. He’s no prince, but he’s quite easy on the eyes.

Upon meeting you for the very first time, he’s smitten. Lorenzo thinks he’s found the most beautiful woman in all of Florence, and he vows to win your affection.

In the past, he’s only ever been interested in pleasure when it comes to women. But you… have captivated him in ways he didn’t know were possible!

From the first time he met you in the square, you captured his heart. He believes that because you are different from other women, you are perfect and special.

He makes every effort to talk to you, even when you’re in your own world.

But you hear him. Sometimes, you like to pretend that you don’t, just because you’re so used to people not listening to you.

But he actually does listen to you! No matter what you say, he listens. He loves your voice, no matter what it says.

Sometimes, you sing, and you don’t realize that Lorenzo is listening. The first time he hears your singing voice… he’s absolutely enchanted by it.

“Of course the prettiest girl in Florence has the loveliest voice. Why am I not surprised?”, he says.

You gasp and turn around to see him leaning on the wall. “Oh, it’s you,” you say as you catch your breath.

“Yes, it’s me,” Lorenzo says as he walks to you.

“What are you doing here?”

He takes your hand, plays with it as he confesses, “I’ve come to see you.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Can’t I come to see the loveliest girl in all of Italy?”

You’re walking with him now. “I thought I was the prettiest girl in Florence? Have you even been outside of Florence, Lorenzo?”

He stops… and he puts his hands on your neck. He holds it gently, intimately. “No, my dear Y/N, I can’t say that I have.”

You can’t stop yourself from pulling away from him. “Then I couldn’t possibly be as attractive as you think I am-“

Lorenzo is hurt by that statement. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful,” he tells you softly. The tears in your eyes break his heart. He takes your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

You have no idea what’s happening… but you don’t want it to stop. You feel as though you’ve been put into one of your many fantasies where Lorenzo confesses feelings that you’re certain he doesn’t have.

But when he places his lips on yours… it seems like he does have some feelings for you. He pulls back with a soft smile as he tells you, “I love you.” He laughs and hugs you. “I am so happy to say it out loud. I want to scream it from the roof of the church. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He furrows his brows, pulling back to look at your face. His eyes soften when he sees the expression you wear. “You don’t sound happy about it,” he observes.

“I am happy, but I don’t understand how you could love someone like me.”

Lorenzo shrugs. “Simple. You’re very beautiful, smart, funny, talented-“

“How could you love someone different?”

The question stuns him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m different, Lorenzo. I look like no one in my family. I don’t even look Italian!”

“What is an Italian supposed to look like?”, he asks with a serious tone. You don’t know how to reply. He asks you again, “What is an Italian supposed to look like, Y/N? Tell me.”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks now. “Not like me.”

Lorenzo can only imagine how painful it must be to feel so isolated in a place where you should feel so welcome. He decides then and there that he’ll do everything in his power to make you feel safe. “Do you know where you come from?”, he asks carefully.

You know what he’s asking now. “No,” you reply.

“Perhaps the people who raised you can be of help,” he suggests.

That night, you learn the truth: your parents aren’t the ones you live with now, nor are you actually Italian. Your sister is not even related to you.

In fact, you’re not even supposed to be in this part of Florence!

When you were an infant, your real parents- Jewish people- were running away from persecution. They were desperate to give you a life that was better than theirs. They managed to find the couple who raised you, but it meant that you would never be able to live the way of your faith and culture. Still, you would be far safer in a Christian family than a Jewish ghetto.

Lorenzo learns of this as well. He’s never really interacted with Jewish people before… but he thinks it’s fitting that the first one he meets is the most beautiful woman in Italy. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Unfortunately, he is but a rare breed of Italian who doesn’t have any negative feelings towards Jewish people. And because of this, he knows that you truly aren’t safe in this part of the world.

“I’ll take care of her,” he says to your adoptive parents.

They tell you both that they have managed to make contact with your family in your home country. They live in the city of Jerusalem, which is incredibly far from Florence. It’s not quite safe to leave the city yet, but Lorenzo is determined to get you to a place where you can truly live in peace. And he wants more than anything to be beside you, because he really, really does love you. He’s never had any problems with Jewish people, nor does he believe that they’ve had anything to do with this awful plague.

It should be noted that Lorenzo is very, very skilled with a sword. He is deadly with a blade, and he is absolutely willing to kill anyone who so much as threatens you in any capacity. The way he sees it, you are in grave danger. Any threat to your life will not be taken lightly. He’s aware of the atrocities committed against Jewish people, and because you’re one of them… he is now incredibly protective of you.

“Just because you’re not Christian, doesn’t mean you’re not a human being,” he says as he sharpens his blade. It’s the morning after you learn of your true parentage, and Lorenzo has a plan to bring you back where you belong: with your real family, in the land that your people deserve to return to. Except he wants to stay with you.

“What if my family doesn’t accept you?”, you ask him.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“What if we don’t get to cross that bridge?”, you ask, already very frightened of the dangers that lie ahead.

He takes your face in his hands, kissing your forehead before he simply tells you, “That’s not for you to worry about right now.” He plays with your hair for a moment, wanting to provide you with comfort, and wanting to prove to you that he still loves you, because the fact that you’re actually a Jew changes nothing. And he knows he doesn’t have to take you to your relatives, but he wants to. It’s the only way he’ll know for sure that you’re going to get out of Florence alive.

“Why are you really doing this, Lorenzo?”, you ask in a slightly shaky manner.

He doesn’t take any extra time to think of an answer. “Because if I don’t, I’ll be no better than the savages who have nothing else to do except slaughter entire neighbourhoods with fire. And I would rather die in that fire than live among the savages who set the flames.”

“But what about your family? You’re Italian, and your home is here in Florence-“

“My family is dead, Y/N. I have very little to lose… and I don’t intend to lose you.”

A week later, Lorenzo has managed to find a group of young people who are trying to get out of Florence as well. He hasn’t told them where you and him are going, but they are going in the direction of Jerusalem.

You’re quite shy around these strange people, but they do seem to be… overly interested in sex.

You and Lorenzo haven’t really talked about that sort of thing yet. You’re still figuring out how to navigate your feelings for him. Apparently, he sorted out his feelings a long time ago. Remember when I said that he was incredibly protective of you? That wasn’t a lie. He never allows any strangers to touch you in any manner, not even women.

But he’s also very, very open about his affection for you. When the caravan settles down for the night, he offers his chest as a pillow for your head. The first night is rough for you though. You miss your family- the one that you lived with for most of your life- and you still feel like your true parents abandoned you. Yes, you know they were trying to keep you safe from persecution, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You end up crying yourself to sleep because you’re homesick and desperate trying not to believe that your mother and father died long ago. All you know is that you have family in Jerusalem, and they’re waiting for you to come home.

Lorenzo can’t stand to see you cry. He has his arms around you tightly. He dips his head and places kisses on your hair as you continue crying. He knows your father and mother’s intentions were pure, but he does understand that you feel hurt by what they did to baby Y/N. Then again, your parents didn’t ask to be in constant danger of slaughter or humiliation from their own neighbours.

“Y/N, everything will be all right,” he whispers as your crying starts to fade. “You’ll be safe when you’re home.”

While you’re asleep, he doesn’t stop comforting you. He leaves soft kisses on your head for a while before he falls asleep too. All his dreams are about you, about how much he loves you… amongst other things. But you frequently visit his dreams. And he loves when it happens. He always makes an attempt to remember what you tell him in the dream. Tonight, he sees you in a long white gown. You have a veil on your head, and you appear to be very happy. He’s not quite sure what the occasion is, but he’s certain that he’s involved.

But before he can even ask what’s happening, he wakes up. And oh, what a sight he wakes up to. Because he wakes up to see you still sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Unfortunately, he’s… got a little problem in his trousers. But because you’re still asleep in his arms, he really doesn’t want to disturb you. So he decides to wait until you get up from your much needed sleep to address his discomfort.

Lorenzo knows it’s not just a random erection- it happens every time he awakens, of course- because he had you sleeping on his chest for the entire night. While he’s sure you’re aware of how men can get aroused, he’s a little afraid of what you might think if you discovered that you were the source of his sexual desires.

Once again, in the past, he never really had any special attachments to the women he had escapades with other than the sexual kind. But now, everything is different.

Lorenzo sighs. He doesn’t want to think about this too much. Not when you’re having trouble eating your breakfast.

You’ve always had issues with certain foods. But after all the stress of the past week, it’s gotten worse.

“Y/N, at least have some bread,” he tells you softly. You have tears in your eyes, which he is very sad to see. Gently, he runs his hand up and down your back. “I don’t want you going hungry, my love. You need sustenance for our travels.”

You do the best you can, but your anxiety is so bad you can’t finish your breakfast. You feel awful for not eating more, but you’re just so sick with anxiety that you can’t bring yourself to take another bite.

When you start to sob silently, your lover hugs you tightly. “I got you, dearest. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry,” he whispers lovingly in your ear. In response, you feel butterflies in your stomach. They fly really low. [yes, I quoted Nerdy Prudes Must Die. And what?]

“Lorenzo?”, you ask him quietly. He hums just as quietly in response, his arms still wrapped around you as though he’s shielding you from the world that threatens to break you. “What if the people we’re traveling with discover where we’re going?”

“They won’t.”

“But what if-“

“If they show signs of wanting to kill you, I will kill them. But only if I absolutely had no choice. You aren’t safe, Y/N. I need to protect you.”

“Lorenzo, I really don’t want you killing anyone for me,” you say in a very anxious voice.

He sighs and pulls back, holding your face in his hands. “I don’t want to think about that right now, darling. I just want you to feel better.”

Before the caravan continues on its journey, the entire group washes in the pond nearby. You do as well, but you’re far more keen on getting clean fast. You don’t want any of these strangers to see your body.

The only person who would be allowed to see your body with no clothes is Lorenzo. But even then… would he even want to see your body?

You can’t deny you want to see his body, but you’d prefer to see it in a far more intimate and personal manner than right now.

Little do you know: Lorenzo himself has had several promiscuous dreams of you and your body. They’ve been far more romantic and tender than the dreams of women that he’s had in the past, which he doesn’t mind. That’s mostly because he knows that he has far deeper feelings for you than those women from his brief escapades.

The fact is that he loves and cares for you so much, and he would wait an eternity to see you with no clothes on.

But he’s just focusing on getting you- the most beautiful, precious, loving woman in the world- to your homeland where you belong, where your family is eagerly awaiting your return.

Maybe it was a trick, but it is far too early to tell. Lorenzo knows one thing, and one thing only: you don’t have any less of a right to live in peace than anyone else. And his heart belongs to you.

Day three of your journey to Jerusalem is the day that Lorenzo discovers the caravan is incredibly suspicious of you. He’s not sure if they’ve discovered that you’re a Jew, but he doesn’t want to stick around to find out.

At the crack of dawn on day four, he wakes you up. You rub your eyes and look up at him in confusion. But before you can ask him what’s going on, he puts his finger on his lips and silently tells you to get up.

He helps you gather your belongings and guides you away from the caravan. “Run,” he whispers when you’re both far enough away from the group. And you do, even though you’re tired and confused. The sun is rising, and so is the caravan. But you don’t dare to stop running. Because Lorenzo is certain that your life depends on it.

And sure enough, it does. “Where’s that Jewish cunt?”, you hear the leader of the caravan ask.

The words hit right into your heart… and it makes your lover feel angry. He stops you, pulls you to a nearby cavern and sneaks you into it. He hides with you as the caravan starts moving towards you two. You can see their feet coming towards the cavern. Lorenzo has his hand on his sword, ready to defend you from these monsters who wear the masks of men and women.

“Such a shame I didn’t get to fuck her senseless when I had the chance,” another man says.

“I wanted to push her into the river,” one of the women says. This terrifies you, but you can’t scream because then you’ll be caught.

So Lorenzo keeps your ear pressed against his chest, and it beats loudly. It’s a nice distraction from all the terrible things that the caravan has to say about you… some of which is in explicit detail.

Eventually, the monsters do leave. But their hurtful words remain in your head. Lorenzo cups your face in both of his hands and wipes your tears, and you notice that he has tears of his own. “Lorenzo, I don’t mind if you want to leave me,” you say.

The look on his face is priceless. And before you can say anything else, he smashes his lips on yours. You taste salt in between kisses, and you can’t tell if they’re your own tears, or his… or both of your tears combined. All you know is that you’re both crying. When he pulls away, his cheeks are wet and shining with the tracks of his tears. “I would rather die than leave you, Y/N.” You’re speechless, but he continues speaking. In fact, he pours his heart out to you. “Oh, I would so much rather die if it meant never seeing you again.” You start to whimper as the awful things that the caravan said come back to you… but again, Lorenzo drowns them out with his own voice. “My love, those words aren’t true. They may hurt, but they’re not true. They were words that came from children… who have nothing but hatred in their hearts.”

“Do you ever think those things about me?”

His eyes soften. “What?”

“Do you ever call me a Jewish cunt in your mind? Do you ever think about drowning me or fucking me until I’m screaming and crying from the pain?”

He sighs and kisses your forehead. “I would never drown you. I would never think those things about you, Y/N.”

“But you do thinking about fucking me?”

Lorenzo hates that word. “I…” he lingers close to your lips. “I think about making love to you. I’ve dreamt of holding your body in my arms while you make the sweetest sounds. And if you’re crying… then you’re crying tears of joy and pleasure. But I would only do it if you wanted to do it too.”

Your cheeks heat up when you hear him speaking about being intimate with you… in a sweet way. The way you’ve been dreaming of for so long. “Will you do it now?”, you ask him softly.

He looks around, wanting to make sure that there’s proper privacy. It’s still early, and you’re both pretty hungry. Funny enough, Lorenzo stole some bread from the cruel traitor caravan. So you both eat before you start to slowly get undressed for this tender activity.

The moment you see Lorenzo’s fully naked body, it becomes clear that he is indeed capable of protecting you and himself from any harm that might arise in the future while you’re traveling. At least… that’s what you tell yourself. Because the loudest thought in your mind is, his cock is big.

Lorenzo voices his thoughts of your body out loud. Gently, he caresses your breasts, then your stomach… then your sacred place in between your legs. “You are a goddess, my love,” he breathes in awe.

You still feel incredibly insecure after hearing those comments from the caravan today. And you can’t help mumbling, “I’m a Jewish cunt.”

This hurts your lover to hear. “Y/N, look at me,” he says as he takes your face in his palms. His eyes are kind and gentle, his thumbs wiping the tears on your face. “You are a Jewish goddess.”

You shake your head and sniffle. “I’m a dirty Jew who deserves to drown-“

Lorenzo doesn’t want to hear anything else from you concerning those awful people. He interrupts you with a passionate kiss, and he speaks against your lips: “You are the most beautiful woman in the whole world… and you are just as deserving of love… as anyone else. And I love you. All that I want you to think of now... is me. I am going to make you feel so good, because that's all I've ever wanted. You are precious, and I'll prove it right now.”

You feel those butterflies returning to your stomach… and they’re flying low once again. Lorenzo smirks at the way your cheeks are heating up, and he moves a hand down to your core. “Legs open, dear,” he whispers as he gently pushes you onto your back. He holds your waist as he presses a finger inside your heat, and it’s a sensation you’ve never felt before… and it feels so good. Your lover is very pleased with your reaction to his finger moving in and out of you. “Oh, we’ve barely started, Y/N. It’s only going to get better for you from this point forward,” he says into your ear. “You’re going to love what happens next.”

And you do. Because Lorenzo puts a second finger inside of you. “F-fuck,” you whimper softly.

He groans in your ear. “I know. It feels good, doesn’t it?” He smiles and looks at your face as he continues to push his fingers inside your heat. “You look so beautiful right now, my love. I hope you know that,” he says before he kisses your lips and takes his fingers out of you. He replaces them with his cock, slowly sliding into your center while you’re distracted by his kisses.

You whine against his lips when you register the sudden stretch in between your legs. “Ow.”

Lorenzo pulls back and holds the back of your neck. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. “No,” you moan softly. You look at the place where you two are now connected. “Aren’t you supposed to move?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” he replies as he moves some hair away from your eyes. “I’ll go slow.” Sure enough, he’s true to his word. Slowly, he begins to thrust his hips back and forth. Each move causes a moan to escape from your lips, and Lorenzo adores those sounds. Genuinely, he loves them… but not nearly as much as he loves you. He’s smitten with you, which isn’t new information, but it’s all he knows for certain. And he’s very much convinced that he’s found the woman he wants to marry. This isn’t just because he’s taken your virginity; it’s the truth: you’re his other half. You’re the only person that he’s certain he loves and cares for anymore. It’s you that grounds him, you who’s giving him one more reason not to die.

And you feel exactly the same way. Lorenzo Di Lamberti is your very first lover, and you’re certain that he’ll be your last. Because you want him to be your husband, and at this point he might as well be! He’s not Jewish like you, but he’s implied that he would willingly convert, and not just to be with you.

You can’t think about that right now because of how good it feels to have your lover’s cock inside of you… and he tells you just as much, whilst he kisses your neck and your breasts: “Oh, you feel so good, Y/N. You’re perfect.” He sucks on your nipples and your neck, which makes you whine loudly in a high pitched voice. Lorenzo can’t help but laugh at that sound, so sweet and innocent, yet so full of wisdom and maturity… just like you. You’re wise beyond your years, yet still very much a naive girl who has so much to learn. But Lorenzo knows that everyone still has so much to learn, especially him. “I love you, and you feel so good,” he groans as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

[hey, did I lose you? No? Good. Don’t worry. The Princess Bride aspects are coming up soon. Just let me finish this beautiful filth, k? Awesome]

Your hands are in his hair, nails scratching his back and your hips bucking up to meet his. “Lorenzo, I-“ you can hardly speak, his movements are making you feel so, so euphoric and the sensation is heavenly [irony]. “I love you too,” you manage to say.

He responds with a smile and a kiss, and his tongue goes into your mouth. You don’t resist, because you know you’re safe with him. He took you away from that caravan, and at any moment, he could have killed you himself. But after all the wonderful moments that you’ve shared with him before either of you learned of your true heritage… it’s not hard to see why he’s grown so attached to you, so protective.

And he whispers promises of his devotion to you, his desire to keep you safe, to keep you happy. They’re all so brutally honest and emotional. And Lorenzo is crying because he means every word that he says. And all the while, he’s picking up the pace of his thrusts. And you’re making the loudest sounds in his ear now, and your body is getting tighter and tighter with every touch the tip of his cock makes. “You’re getting so tight, darling,” he grunts as his thrusts get faster and more intense. [pffffffft! Get it?]

“Lorenzo,” is all you can say. His name is all you can think of. His face is all you can see. And his voice is all you can hear. He’s making you feel good. Nothing else matters except for Lorenzo Di Lamberti and his cock moving in and out of you.

He brings a hand down and rubs your clit in circles, wanting to push you closer to orgasm. You’re screaming his name in pleasure and begging for release at this point… and he’s in the same boat. “Y/N, fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

[to the Princess Bride fans: hold on a minute. Don’t leave. It’s almost done. I just want to give this slightly chaotic couple more sexy time. K? Great]

You can feel his cock hitting places you didn’t think existed… and it’s amazing! The circles on your clit get faster and faster, and you’re screaming and crying with joy and pleasure. It’s the exact opposite of what the leader of that awful caravan wanted from you, and Lorenzo is happy with what he’s seeing. You look happy, and he’s certain that you deserve all the happiness in the world. Far more deserving of it than all those people in that caravan combined. “That’s it, Y/N,” he praises as he thrusts faster. “I’m so close. Come with me, my love.” And sure enough, around the fourth or fifth thrust… you release, and so does he. You feel his hot seed spilling into your core… and your muscles tighten and loosen around his cock. You’re in heaven now, and Lorenzo is right there with you. And he’s kissing your cheeks, telling you how beautiful you are… and how much he loves you.

You’ve lost the ability to speak, to move. You’re exhausted, but you’re still feeling so good. And it’s thanks to your beautiful lover, who helps you get cleaned up… gently, lovingly. And all the while, he’s telling you how much he cares for you, and how special you are to him.

When you’re all cleaned up from that rigorous lovemaking, he helps you get dressed and ready to continue your journey to Jerusalem.

The entire time, he’s holding your hand in his, and his grip is tight. Lorenzo must’ve developed trust issues after discovering that the caravan had ill intent with you, because he doesn’t seem interested in talking to anyone who crosses paths with you two- not even children.

Wait… that reminds him. He came inside you. What if you’re pregnant now? Oh no.

Lorenzo quickly pulls you aside to a place where he’s 99% sure no one can see or hear you. You’re confused, until he says, “I might’ve given you a child.”

You shrug, not in the mood to talk about this subject. “That’s all right.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “What?”

“I thought we’d have to do what we did in that cavern more than once in a row if I were to become pregnant,” you say bluntly.

Lorenzo shakes his head and takes your face in his hands. “Sometimes, all it takes is doing it once,” he tells you in a serious voice. “And if I did… give you a child-“

“Then you should marry me.”

Those words suddenly make him feel less anxious… and he feels more like his usual troublemaker self. Drifting close to your face, he whispers, “Who said I didn’t already want to marry you, my love?”

His lips touch yours, and you feel his hands moving down to your waist as he kisses your neck. As he nips at the sensitive skin of your throat, you speak. “Perhaps we should-“ A gasp as you feel his mouth marking your neck. “- we should be more careful next time?”, you suggest.

He grunts in agreement as he holds onto your body as though you’ll disappear. “You know… there are… other ways to make you feel good, Y/N,” he purrs as he pulls away from your neck. His breath is heavy now, his eyes filled with lust. “Ways… that don’t involve me being inside of you.”

You’re about to ask him what he could do… when the sound of footsteps stops you.

Lorenzo turns and quickly gets his sword out to fight whoever is coming in your direction. “Stay behind me, Y/N,” he tells you as he pushes you directly behind him.

Two men come from the clearing that you and Lorenzo walked through not too long ago. One of them has a mustache... but that's not what frightens you. It's the scars on his face- one on each cheek. The other man... is... tall? No. A giant. That's the first word that comes to your mind.

The man with the facial scars takes out his own sword [oh, I know that's his father's sword. Hold on, fam. We'll get there. It's literally the first meeting. Don't go! Please don't leave! I promise there's plot... or whatever-] and addresses your armed lover.

"Greetings, young fellow," the man says... in a Spanish accent? What would a Spaniard be doing in Italy, especially now with a plague?

Lorenzo's jaw clenches, his grip on your wrist tightening. "Good afternoon," he replies, his voice assertive.

The giant makes eye contact with you, then smiles. [no one come for Fezzik! He's just being nice! Leave him alone, and please don't go. I know this is bad. So was Virgin Territory, but I'll be damned if I don't try to use The Princess Bride for... just... please stay?] "Is that man bothering you?", he asks in a very deep voice. You don't recognize the accent, but the tone seems genuine. However, after that morning with the caravan... you've grown wary of strangers.

Lorenzo is about to reply, but you interrupt. "No," you say. "We're all right. This man isn't-" You stop, look to your traveling companion- the man who's been loving you so unconditionally- for help. Are you telling these men too much? Should you stop talking?

But before either of you can speak, the Spaniard asks a question that you both know you cannot answer: "Where are you going?"

Apparently, Lorenzo has found an easy loophole to this dilemma: "Nowhere. Just wandering aimlessly." He glances at you. "Isn't that right, my darling?"

You play along. "Oh, yes," you say. You don't know why you say it, but you pray to... what is the name of the Jewish god? [oooooo... girl... we need to get you away from the goyim real quick. :') In case you couldn't tell... I'm struggling] Whoever it is, that's who you pray to, and you pray that the next words aren't going to get you and your beloved in any more trouble. "We're just a couple of naive travelers who don't have any specific destinations in mind, but we would prefer to enjoy the journey."

"And we were in the middle of something important when you two... gentlemen approached, so, if you don't mind, we'd like to get back to it. Go away, please," Lorenzo says... almost angrily. You don't blame him, of course. What was happening between the two of you was pretty important. [this was... i found it hilarious, personally] You were about to hear what Lorenzo could do to you with no risk of pregnancy. [ummm... honey, there's still plenty of risks. but this is a fantasy, so we'll let it pass because fuck it]

You find yourself clinging to your lover when the Spaniard looks at you. "If he is harming you, I can kill him for you-"

"NO!", you shout desperately. The thought of losing Lorenzo frightens you. Not because he's getting you to Jerusalem, or because he's the father of your hypothetical child... but because you truly, deeply love him. [yes, I did this. IDGAF if it's from a completely different Hayden Christensen project, okay? The reader and Lorenzo are... crazy for each other. I don't know how to tell you this- AND PLEASE DON'T LEAVE!]

Lorenzo doesn't like the offer either, obviously. Oh... don't forget: Lorenzo Di Lamberti is deadly with a sword.

But so is this Spaniard. "Come closer, young fellow," he beckons.

Lorenzo replies slyly with, "You first."

The giant steps towards you, which prompts Lorenzo to push you backwards. "NO!", you shout.

"Run, Y/N!", he yells. You run, fast, quick. You look behind you, see the giant coming towards you.

You can hear Lorenzo and the Spaniard grunting, along with the sounds of swords clashing. At some point, you run out of breath, so you have to stop.

Oops. The giant catches you, but instead of doing something terrible like... what the leader of that caravan said he wanted to do to you... he says something that shocks you: "Your uncle sent us to find you, so you could return to Jerusalem."

You don't know if this giant is telling the truth... but something in your gut tells you that he is. Something about the other man felt... different. But now, you fear for- "My lover is bringing me to Jerusalem, but your friend..." You trail off.

Then... you hear Lorenzo yell in pain.

[i'm evil. I did a cliffhanger. :) Anyway, glad I finally got this out]

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