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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only
Fill Only
Join or Die
✩ 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!
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
FILL 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-21 11:03 am (UTC)(link)Enjoy, anons!
-
From the first moment we met, I knew.
I knew he was different- worth being loyal to.
Special.
He thinks of me as someone special to him, as well.
But not in the same way I've started to view him. HAVE BEEN viewing him. My emotions have been changing more, and more, until...
It hurts.
SHE made him hurt, suffer. I can see it ever more brilliantly each day, splayed across his hollowing features. He makes nothing of it, always carrying on with business as if nothing tugged incessantly at his soul from the inside. But, I can see it anyhow. That loneliness in his eyes. That longing, for a person he cannot have any longer, one who has ended any established connections or thoughts of love for him.
I know, because that is exactly how I feel.
I have someone right in front of me, day in, day out, day immemorial. However, I cannot have him. I cannot touch him. I cannot tell him enough how she is a lost cause since she doesn't agree with Templar goals and ideals. Like WE do. Like I do. I would worship the ground you walk on if only it would allow you to notice your folly in attempting to keep your fettering ties with her. If you do not let her go, I will MAKE her go.
And then you can be happy.
With me.
Forget the savage.
I promise and swear on my life I will rid of that which ails you. No matter what that is, no matter what that ever will be.
Charles Lee 1756
Charles put his face in his hands and sighed deeply. The past few months he has been feeling sickly, tired to be honest. He tried everything he could think of to remedy the Grand Master's ails... but to no avail. There's no way he could talk about this with the other Templars, he needed his image as a competent right-hand preserved.
So, he elected to write to himself. It kept him sane, thus far, and it allowed him to cope with his stress without letting anyone in on it. However, if someone happened to find these letters...
Charles shook his head slowly, and got up out of his chair inside his living quarters. He cleaned his ink quill and carefully nestled it back inside its holder, making sure he didn't wrinkle the feather in the process.
'No one would find out, of course not. The hiding spot is too well-hidden...' he thought to himself as he slipped the note into an envelope and sealed it. He lowered it into one of his pockets and scooted in his chair. He glanced behind himself to make sure his room was still locked- it was, and made his way across the room to a space between his bed and a wall. To his left was a lacquered chest-of-drawers, and he turned to it after gazing idly at it for a moment.
'Good. It has been undisturbed this week.' He knelt down on the balls of his feet and carefully lifted a corner of the dresser up, wiggling it slightly until it came off the ground, bringing part of the floorboard underneath with it. He maneuvered it up and around the gap to rest it on an undisturbed board. He took a moment from here to rest; the chest was certainly heavy, made of rosewood.
"A beautiful hue, no doubt. Chosen by none other than Haytham himself, for he thought it suited me well." he murmured aloud, softly. He stepped back and watched the candlelight over from the desk dance shadows across the dresser as he moved away from it.
He was right. Haytham knew only from mere moments of mingling with his subordinates which types of furniture they would desire when they became part of the Order. Charles felt a swell of pride rise in his chest. His Master knew him so well.
If only he knew the thing he desired most at this present moment...
Charles frowned. Closed his eyes, took in a deep breath. 'No. I must keep myself composed. I musn't dwell on...' he put his hand on top of the dresser, tiredly bowing his head in sorrow. This was not the time for lascivious thoughts, prior memories and happenings twisting into a blanket of desire. No, he was exhausted, it was one in the morning, and...
Yet, they remain.
These hopeful wishes of making Haytham his,
...
Remain.
Re: FILL 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-22 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)Writer!Anon here
(Anonymous) 2013-03-22 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)FILL 2/? Onesided Charles/Haytham
(Anonymous) 2013-03-22 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)"How are you feeling today, sir?"
"I am quite... alright."
Haytham was seated in his delegated chair at a long table in the Templar headquarters, fidgeting around his guilded Grand Master ring on a finger. He gazed down at it in contemplation, focusing on that only. He also had a tired look on his face, and his posture was somewhat slovenly, unfit for a proud man such as he. Haytham certainly lacked that appealing quality of confident leadership this morning.
Charles looked at him, concerned, as he came through the entryway and carefully made his way around the table to stand opposite Haytham.
The melancholied Master looked up at him disenchantedly, his eyes however asking Charles an innocent question.
"How come you are up so early?"
Haytham could have sworn he said that himself, but instead he was hearing it from a distance, and in slightly more polite language.
"Why is it you are up so early, Master Kenway?" Charles asked, forcing a chipper tone into his voice, a small smile on his face. If Haytham was depressed, then Charles had to do his best not to be. He always had to feel reliable to the Templar leader, if he were to successfully remain his anchor.
"..." Haytham was silent, finally lowering his eyes to fumble with his ring again, not even opening his mouth to answer the question.
"Sir, your eyes are red, did you have trouble sleeping?" Charles slid down into a chair and put his hands on the table. "You look... very tired. Perhaps you should try to get some more rest. There are still a few hours yet 'fore work is to be done proper."
Haytham looked away from him, not messing with the ring anymore. He clearly displayed that he didn't care for what Charles was saying, but it was obvious he was still attentively listening to him anyhow. His senses were finely tuned; such was custom for a Grand Master. He paid absolute attention to everything and anything around him... sometimes even if he didn't want to.
"Or, perhaps, sir... You could tell me what has been on your mind so these phantoms will haunt you no more this day."
Charles daintily reached over towards Haytham, leaning forward over the table, and put his hands softly over the top of Haytham's. The bittersweet feeling in the air around them suddenly shifted.
Haytham's eyes widened.
Charles felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his body in check to stop it from involuntarily shuddering. He bent down again and took the envelope out of his pocket. He stared at it, holding it with both hands. After a few heart-wrenching seconds, he slowly, self-consciously kissed the seal, gently pressing his lips to it.
Instantaneously, Charles whimpered, along with air exhaling noisily through his nostrils as a pang of agony suddenly overcame him. He shakily reached down into the hole underneath the dresser with one of his hands and picked up a box that was hiding deep in the darkness. He placed it next to him on a board and reached into his other pocket, where a small key was hidden. He took it out and unlocked the box, keeping the key still inside the lock for the moment. His stomach heaved, and he trembled when he saw all the letters stacked inside it, nearly overflowing to the top. Charles' bottom lip quivered as he ran his thumb up the stack, the envelopes all in turn falling back down afterward.
He soon began to realize the painful gravity of his situation and began to whine and sob, crying hysterically. Tears streamed down his face, unhindered as he lowered the envelope into the box and gently pushed down the stack so he could close the lid again. He wiped an arm across his eyelids and locked the box again, putting the key back into his pocket. Charles sniffled, and blinked a few times as moved the box back to its original hiding space once more. He started to move the dresser back across the hole and stared at the empty blackness as he moved it. He choked back another sob while he watched his dark secret start to disappear once more, saying goodbye to it for yet another night.
"Charles, no. I am not in the mood for this."
"B-but sir!"
Haytham snapped his hands away from his subordinate and stood up. A vehement tone laced brazenly into the Master's words. He was not to be trifled with, presently.
"Do not concern yourself for me. It is my burden alone; it makes no difference whatsoever should I speak of it."
"But sir, please, I'm worried about yo-"
Anger flashed across Haytham's face and he scowled, looking at Charles one last time before he furiously turned to leave.
"Enough."
Charles stared at his Master with wide eyes, watching him walk away. This always happened. Charles waited until Haytham locked himself inside his own living space before he punched the top of the table, slamming his fist down on it with a dull, aggravated yell.
"Why...? Why don't you trust me anymore? What did I do? What happened to... you?" he whispered almost incoherently, suddenly finding himself feeling very weak. He crossed his arms over the table and rested his forehead against them.
The board seemed to stretch all the way across the floor again, connecting to the other boards seamlessly. Nothing stood out of place. Ordinary, just like before. Charles went over to his desk and picked up the flickering candle, now down to its final embers. He slipped a finger through the loop of the handle and went over to his bedside, placing it down on the small round table next to his bed. He shrugged off his coat and laid it across the end of the bed, not having the strength or energy at the moment to stow it away properly. He even felt no need to dress into nightclothes, and with a slight sniffle here and there, he crawled under the covers, blew out the candle, and put his pillow over his face.
-
What Charles didn't know, was that every time Haytham stormed away without telling him anything, he always regretted it, sometimes instantly. As soon as he would get into his room he would break down, pressing his back against the door painfully hard, feeling as though he deserved it- ill and remorseful. However, no matter how many times this had happened he never could muster the strength to tell Charles what happened. He just couldn't.
Re: FILL 2/? Onesided Charles/Haytham
(Anonymous) 2013-03-30 12:28 pm (UTC)(link)