Someone wrote in [personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme 2014-11-07 07:42 pm (UTC)

FILL: Turnabout [1/?]

Caution, this is fourth-wall-breaking, and may be slightly out of character at times. Enjoy.

"You know what, guys, me and Lucy are so fucking pissed." The angry sentence comes out of the blue from Rebecca one evening, but it sounds like something she's been sitting on for a while. "We're sick and tired of you two getting all the attention!"

"Attention? What are you talking about?" Desmond says. He knows full well what she means, but he also knows that none of them are supposed to let on that they know.

"The fandom!" Rebecca screeches.

Shaun groans. "Now you've done it. You've gone and broken the fourth wall. Brilliant."

Rebecca continues her rant as if he hadn't said a word. "Shaun/Desmond, Shaun/Desmond, Shaun/Desmond! It's like you two are the only moderns! Sometimes it's Clay/Desmond or Alex/Desmond or Ancestor/Desmond, but it's abso-fucking-lutely never Lucy/Shaun, or Alex/Rebecca, or Lucy/Vidic, or Rebecca/Desmond!"

"Who the hell would want to see anybody/Vidic?" Shaun asks, shuddering.

"I ran an analysis," Lucy seethes, ignoring the question. "Seventy-four percent of fans said 'Deshaun' is their OTP."

Desmond winces, as if physically hurt by the two syllables of "Deshaun". "God, I so fucking hate that cutesy nickname!"

"Another thirteen point five say they don't ship it but their favorites and bookmarks tell another story!"

"Hey, slashers gonna slash! Whaddya want us to do about it?!" Desmond retorts. "We can't make fangirls change their mi-" He stops, a horrified look creeping over his face. "Oh my god. You're not going to use the Apple to control their shipping preferences?!"

"Hell no."

"Then what are you suggesting?" snipes Shaun. "Shall we have Erudito track the IP address of every visitor to, then go to their house and threaten them with bodily injury?!"

Desmond gives him a puzzled look. He seems pretty certain of that URL. It didn't sound like something he made up off the top of his head.

"Of course we're not doing anything like that!" Rebecca snarls. Then her tone becomes less angry, more cold and calculating. "We've thought of a much better way."

Lucy nods, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. "It is true- although nothing is true- that 'slashers gonna slash'. But we're going to show them a new type of slash..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Femmeslash."

Rebecca gives her a high five. "And it'll be so hot, it'll blow their clits off."

"Femmeslash." Shaun adjusts his glasses. "But these fangirls are attracted to men."

"Yeah, I mean, sure there's male AC fans out there," Desmond admits with a shrug, "but they don't really go in for shipping at all. They're just into the 'badass stealth killing machines throughout history' thing that the games got going on. Hell, some of them even have the coglioni to say that all the Desmond stuff is boring!" He looks very angry about this part.

"That's where you two come in," Lucy says slyly, holding up a coiled length of rope.

"What?" the two men say in unison.

"Take off your clothes."


"You're right, they're into men. So we'll give them men. But all the action is going to be me and Luce," Rebecca explains. "Take 'em off."

Her demanding tone is stirring something in Desmond, and he tries to tell his boner to go away. But it was no use. This was one of his recurring fantasies: a girl telling him to strip. Add to that the fact that he hadn't gotten laid since well before his capture by Abstergo, and when he'd found out they had cameras in his room, he'd decided to refrain from masturbation. After the rescue, he'd only been able to get himself off once or twice, since they all were in such close quarters.

"I... I guess we have to, Shaun," Desmond tries to sound annoyed as he unzips his hoodie.

"You can't be seriously going along with this bollocks!"

"You heard her. It's the only way to make fans stop shipping us together." He tosses the hoodie away and peels off his shirt.

"You've all gone mental."

Without him noticing, Rebecca has crept up behind Shaun, and she now grabs his wrists and wrangles them backwards. "What the bloody hell?!" His eyes widen when he hears a click. "Handcuffs?! You seriously have gone mental!"

"You're doing this, whether you like it or not," Rebecca declares, speaking the words only inches from his ear.

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