Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4

Welcome to Constantinople

‡ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

‡ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

‡ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

‡ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

‡ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

‡ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

‡ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

Comments

Fill: These Fishes in the Sea, 3/3

[(Anonymous)]

Sixteen tells him that things will get worse before they get better – that his madness is expansive and growing, will grow until it caves in on itself and takes him with it. Everything Sixteen says is confusing and depressing and it makes Desmond desperate to wake up, but he can't.

If Desmond is honest with himself, there is a part of him that is anticipating the moment when Ezio sees him – truly sees him – and it terrifies him. He stands on his own two feet and stares into the gateway, feels short of breath and lost, and everything is so much static in his head.

Sixteen grins, a little madly, and runs his tongue along his top teeth. “No one blames you for being lonely, Desmond. Not your ancestors, not your friends, not me.”

“None of this is real – you're not real,” Desmond tells him, because he's been repeating the same mantra in his head over and over and over, but it's difficult to believe it when he can't wake up.

Sixteen clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shrugs loosely. “Feels real, doesn't it?”

“You're not real,” Desmond repeats, and he thinks if this were a child's story then saying those words should make Sixteen vanish in a puff of smoke. It should make it impossible for him to exist.

The hands on his elbows are cold and rough, but they feel very real.

“I was real. I was a pawn just like you, Desmond. I was a pawn and it wasn't enough to just cast my piece off the board,” Sixteen says, and he's still grinning madly, even though his grip is tight and his words are shaky. “They cast me off the board, off the table, onto the floor to be forgotten – and you're going to feel just how real that is.”

Then the grip on his arms pushes him, roughly backwards, and he's stumbling – through sand, through a haze of light and blue, and then there is darkness and nothing, and nothing.

It has become a challenge to differentiate what is Ezio and what is not. It has become harder to tell which is Desmond and which is Ezio – which is Altair and which is Desmond. It is harder to decide what is a memory and what is a mistake, what has been forgotten, but he knows – knows with certainty – that something has glitched within the Animus.

When Desmond falls through the gateway, he falls into Ezio's world – into his memories – and Ezio takes him somewhere that isn't a memory at all. Desmond clings to his mantra, tells himself that he has to keep his sanity clutched tightly in both hands before he gets lost in this forever, but it is difficult when Ezio stares into a dusty mirror in the assassin's hideout and Desmond stares back at him. Desmond sees his own, scruffy, modern appearance in the reflection – and he can't see Ezio's expression, because he cannot see Ezio -

Gloved fingers rise up and press against the glass, against Desmond's bare fingers in his reflection – and it should feel like cold glass underneath his fingers, not leather – not like someone else's hands-

“Desmond,” Ezio says, and Desmond hears the rough drag of it as though it were in his own ears, feels the chills it sends down his spine, and he shouldn't be able to feel that either. “Who are you, I wonder?”

It's insane to think he can manipulate these events – these events that are not even memories, have never happened, should not be visible to him right now because he's in the Animus – but he tries regardless. Desmond steps towards the mirror, forces Ezio's boot-clad feet closer to the mirror, until he feels the brush of stubble against his face, the hard press of leather against his knees. He pushes until there are gloved fingers against his face, warm breath against his open mouth, and he pushes until he slips through glass and memory and into warmth and arms-

Until there is sand all around him, the sound of a shore nearby, and Sixteen is staring up at him, pinned underneath him by his mouth, with wide, indecipherable eyes. He is warm and pliant and he yields – and this isn't a memory, isn't real, but it feels like something tangible. The ground is shaking, the sky falling down on them, and Sixteen grins madly into his mouth and-

Desmond wakes up in a van, in the middle of nowhere, and nothing feels real anymore.

Re: Fill: These Fishes in the Sea, 3/3

[(Anonymous)]

Op here.
That was.... Augh! I love it! I cannot really emphasize how much! >.< Poor Des...
Simply beautiful work. I thank you wholeheartedly. ~<3

Re: Fill: These Fishes in the Sea, 3/3

[(Anonymous)]

*____________* Nnnnnngh! So much love! Ezio just picking and picking at it and refusing to leave the question alone, and Desmond finally just giving in.... *rolls in the shiny*