asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2009-12-26 11:46 pm
Entry tags:

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme
Fill Only

Welcome to the Animus 2.5

✠ 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
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
( Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only

(Anonymous) 2009-12-27 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Altair/Lucy. Clever use of haystacks and/or those things you hide in atop buildings. ♥

(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
Okay so this is my first time trying to draw Lucy and admittedly I don't think it's my best work... but I was so sad that no one had filled this request yet. Sorry it sucks!

Umm, they're in a roof garden. I suck at backgrounds.


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I had this dream for a week

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(Anonymous) 2009-12-27 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Desmond/Lucy, sex on the animus! Desmond can be using the animus or not. >:3

(Anonymous) 2009-12-29 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
Abstergo's animus or "baby"?

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Desmond/Lucy, Sex on the Animus [1/?]

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Desmond/Lucy, Sex on the Animus [2/?]

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(Anonymous) 2009-12-27 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Ezio/Leonardo. Rosa is flirting with Leonardo and Ezio gets jealous.

Evening Chatter [1/2]

(Anonymous) 2010-02-05 11:46 am (UTC)(link)
[A/N: Somehow this moved from flirting to Rosa breaking Leonardo's brain. Sorry, Leo.]


Leonardo knelt down once he was at a deserted pier, setting down his purchases carefully onto the creaking wood. The first songbird had to be coaxed out of its cage, and the next was a flutter of brilliant yellow into the breeze. As he was flipping the latch to the third cage, a woman spoke behind him, her tone low and amused.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, Leonardo nearly fell into the water, clutching quickly at the wooden edge and steadying the cage as the bird within it squawked and panicked.

The woman looked distinctly familiar. Short dark hair, a blouse cut to show an unseemly amount of cleavage... "Oh! You are the thief."

"Rude as well as crazy."

"I mean," Leonardo scrambled to his feet, fighting his blush, "The young lady who ran into Ezio on our first day in Venezia, likely not connected at all with the reason why Ezio suddenly found himself financially disadvantaged."

"Better," The woman grinned, planting her fists on her ample hips. "My name is Rosa. Yours?"

"Leonardo da Vinci, signorina Rosa."

"So, what are you doing?"

"Freeing the birds," Leonardo said, somewhat confused. It was fairly obvious.


"Because they are caged?"

"You do know that all of these birds are bred in cages, cretino Leonardo? If you let them free, without someone to feed them and keep them safe from the cats, they will all die."

"I know. I am giving them a chance to be free. What they do with the freedom is their choice." Leonardo knelt down again, opening another cage. "There are many wild birds in Venezia. They will learn."

"And what you do is a drop in the ocean. There will always be caged birds."

"It is better to do something than nothing, signorina."

Rosa stared at him for another, long moment, then she sat down abruptly, cross-legged beside him. "May I help?"

"Of course." Leonardo smiled warmly.


"... and then he says, Antonio, what is the meaning of this?" Rosa slapped her thighs, utterly unladylike, roaring with laughter, and Leonardo found himself joining in. The empty cages sat in a neat row behind them, and they were seated on the edge of the pier, their legs dangling over the murky water.

"It seems he usually causes all of you a lot of trouble."

"It is how he treats people. He uses them." Rosa leant back, against her palms. "You do not begrudge him because you know that he does not do it for himself."

"I know," Leonardo said, more soberly, copying Rosa's gesture. Above, the sun was sinking slowly over a bank of yellowing clouds. "I do not see him often."

"Truly? But he says you are his best friend!"

"He has an odd definition of 'friend', signorina Rosa. 'People to keep safe', not 'people to live life with'."

"You sound wistful." Rosa's smile was knowing, and then Leonardo froze as she edged over to press against him, soft and supple, from this angle giving him a clear view down her blouse. "Wistful and lonely, friend Leonardo."

"I, ah," Leonardo tried to inch away, and tensed further as a slim hand slid over his hip. "Rosa. I, ah, have no interest, in women, so-"

"Truly? That is very interesting." Rosa grinned, undaunted. "I think I have never met a man who did not think first and foremost with his pene." She paused, concerned. "Did you lose your balls? Some sort of accident, perhaps?"

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(Anonymous) 2009-12-28 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
Ezio/Altair or Altair/Ezio, whatever tickles your fancy.

Have Ezio tease Altair on how he can't swim and doesn't have cool inventions to help him. But Altair teaches Ezio a (sexy) lesson he'll never forget. ♥

(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 11:23 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not a very good writer, but it pains me to see this meme so lifeless. So I'll give this a shot!

Having miscalculated a jump, Altair found himself pulled back down to the earth by that unseen force that he tried so valiantly to defy time and again, and it was as he was falling that he realized what he was to land on, or in. Water. He couldn't swim, and there was no telling how deep it was from here. He noted that there were people milling about nearby and surmised that he probably could yell for help, but he was too proud for that.

With a splash, the cool liquid enveloped him, soaking his robes, dragging him down with its volume. It was deep. He cursed mentally, thrashing about in an attempt to keep his head above it. Some water had managed to get into his lungs already, causing him to cough as he flailed and that is when he noticed someone jumping into the canal towards him. The stranger wrapped his arms around Altair and, thankfully, opted to save him in a fairly secluded place. It was a small grotto in what seemed to be an untraveled area of the city they were in.

Altair's lungs violently rejected the water that he'd managed to breathe in as he coughed, on his hands and knees. From his narrowed peripheral vision, he could just see his savior's boots, and when he was finished expelling what had gotten where it shouldn't have, he looked up and was surprised to see what... appeared to be another assassin. Well, the hood was akin to his, but the outfit he wore... was far flashier. An uneasy silence extended until the stranger finally spoke.

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(Anonymous) 2009-12-28 11:16 am (UTC)(link)
Older Ezio/Younger Ezio! ♥

They say with age comes much wisdom...
Well maybe the older one can show the younger that he has learned much more valuable "experience"
in certain activities, rather than just assassinations alone.

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-16 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
Lorenzo x Giovanni
Not necessarily in that order

filled - His Will Alone (1/2)

(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"This is not like you," Giovanni managed, and got a scowl for his troubles. "What is the matter?"

He had only thought to say goodbye more privately, since his preparations to leave for Rome allowed him some time. In truth, he hadn't thought to find Lorenzo the Magnificent at home, since the man slept barely a few hours each day. But home he had been, ensconced in his bed room, reading in such a way that Giovanni, coming through the open window on the fifth floor, thought that he was probably not seeing anything that was before him. He did not seem surprised to see Giovanni either; quite the opposite in fact - his eyes were dark as Giovanni came over.

And Giovanni had thought then, as sensitive to his master's thoughts and moods as he always was, that something was wrong. But then, leaning half on the edge of his large canopied bed, the lingering brush of his lips against the back of Lorenzo's fine hand had turned into a kiss on his mouth and a kiss on his mouth had become... Well, Giovanni did not like to complain about his current position, but Lorenzo was not usually quite so forward. Certainly, he had never been quite this aggressive with his passions; indeed, passion was normally slightly too strong a word for the Prince of Florence. The man was cool, calculating and in control, and right now he was in control of Giovanni, and he needed no racks nor ropes nor threats to exercise his mastery.

"You talk," Lorenzo pointed out gruffly, with a sharp shift of his hips, "far too much, Giovanni. I should have, oh, had you on your knees instead, where your mouth - ah! Could have been more appropriately engaged."

Giovanni let his thumbs rub gentle circles on Lorenzo's bare hips, but other than that, it was Lorenzo who set the pace and flavour of thier lovemaking, now as always.

"As it pleases you, Your Magnificence," he murmured, panting through his smile.

"Stop... calling me that," Lorenzo chided and lent forward to brace his hands on Giovanni's chest. The change in angle seemed to make Lorenzo's long, supple body shudder and suddenly Giovanni could not get enough breath, lying there on his back watching as Lorenzo rode him. He thrust once, hard, could not stop himself, and Lorenzo's spine snapped straight like a rapier.

"And stop...moving!" Lorenzo ordered again crossly, not for the first time in the last little while, and Giovanni removed a hand to the long, smooth arch of his throat to press his thumb against the pounding pulse of blood under the surface of Lorenzo's pale skin.

"You are making that..." He groaned sharply as Lorenzo shifted again. "Quite difficult, you realise."

"And I will make it more... difficult still," Lorenzo warned. "You will be still or next time... I will tie... you down."

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-17 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)

For someone seemingly so nice, Leonardo has a dirty mouth between the sheets.

filled - More Uses Than One 1/2

(Anonymous) 2010-01-24 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
This is terrible, but I hate seeing a kink meme without a single response! Come on people! You gotta fic as well as request!


Ezio would not have thought when they started this that his friend would be quite so… accomplished. But he does not know anyone who would look at Leonardo da Vinci and not see a slightly flighty if endearing fellow with a quick smile and a warm laugh, so perhaps he is not to blame if he was taken unawares. It was not he who kissed Leonardo first, although he returns his kisses with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. And it was not he who soothed over his protests and deftly stripped him of his garments, although Ezio is of the mind that he can only encourage Leonardo's hands upon his bare skin now, wandering with seeming abandon into the places that make Ezio shiver and shudder in delight.

No, he certainly had not thought to find the man so well versed in such past times, and yet he is pleasantly surprised, so much so in fact that he forgets himself a little. His hands knot in Leonardo's hair, his mouth chasing for Leonardo's kiss; his thighs grip Leonardo's hips. And all the while, Leonardo is quiet; the only sounds he makes are those of pleasure, the panting of his breath. It is not right, and Ezio forgets himself enough that words spring forth with no further thought.

"Do not…" he gasps, and then clutches at Leonardo when he goes to move. As if Ezio would want him to stop at this point. "No! I mean - Oh, Holy Mother of God – speak to me…"

"Speak?" Leonardo repeats, and even breathless, he sounds amused. "What would you like me to speak of, my darling?"

Ezio has long since learned to accept Leonardo will use what endearments he will. He's long since learned that he likes them. "Anything!" he groans, pushing his hips insistently into Leonardo's. "Normally, you would not… even need to ask."

"Ah, then," Leonardo breathes, still amused, and settles back down to press another heady kiss to Ezio's open mouth. "I think I shall talk of my drawing table. Did you know, Ezio, that as I work there of a day, I think about you? I think about its height, and its dimensions, about how sturdy it is, how smooth and cool to the touch and I think about fucking you on it. I think about taking you on it like an animal, from behind, holding you down upon it and pushing into your beautiful body and I cannot work a moment longer. I am utterly consumed with passion for you. It is not a wonder, eh? That I sometimes get very little done? When in that moment all that inspires me is the sight of your thighs parted for me, the unrestrained sound of your voice, moaning your desire."

"Oh, God," Ezio swears raggedly, his entire body clenching in response, and he can see it, can picture it clearly, feels feverish with the wanting of it. Wanting is too weak a word. "Leonardo."

"Sometimes," Leonardo continues, and there seems no amusement in his tone now as he presses a kiss to Ezio's collar bone. "Sometimes I imagine kneeling behind you, and using my tongue. I lick at this place until you are babbling, utterly insensible from the feeling, until my tongue is numb and all I can taste is you."

Ezio shudders, gasping, and there is no doubt concerning the place of which Leonardo speaks, because his hand has travelled between them and his fingers are sliding into Ezio's body and to have his tongue there… oh, oh god. "Please," he whispers, shaking and spreading himself open at the same time, and he is asking for that and everything. "Please."

filled - More Uses Than One 2/2

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-21 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
in that order
any kink you want

(Anonymous) 2010-03-22 04:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh please god YES. PLEASE!

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-25 11:02 am (UTC)(link)
Old AC kinkmeme died before it started so I'm copypasting my request from the old one.

After AC2 Ezio's life is ruined. He is completely lost and confused, and can no longer find meaning in the most simplistic of actions. All that's left to drive him is Desmond. It's become an unhealthy obsession.

The rest is up to the kind anon who fills this out.

I am dying to see this happen. Bonus points will be awarded if someone can turn this into an awkward sex scene where Ezio does something kinky while addressing Desmond.

(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 05:07 pm (UTC)(link)
W-wait. Lemme see if I get this right.

Ezio is still in the past, but addressing Desmond in the future like that alien chick did, right? And Desmond is in the animus watching this memory?

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OP Here

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 10:37 am (UTC)(link)

First time, Malik finds out that the best assassin likes to bottom.

(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 04:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Quick question about the circumstances!

Does it matter when in the game this takes place, how old they are, or if it's both their first time?

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Excuse me? (1/1)

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 02:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Malik/Altair or Altair/Malik.

Altair gets into trouble in Jerusalem and Malik comes to the rescue, either willingly or reluctantly. You get ten bajillion bonus points if you can work some sex in there at whatever location you wish.

Bedside manners [1/3]

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 07:15 am (UTC)(link)
[A/N: mm. I’m not very good at Altaïr/Malik, but I seem to have run out of Leo/Ezio prompts.]


“I take back what I have said before,” Malik’s voice drifted urbanely down from the high, barred window into his cell. “You are a terrible Assassin.”

One leg broken, light-headed from blood loss, his right hand crushed and his arm fractured, Altaïr lay on his back on the cot in the dirty cell, scowling up at the window. “I hate you.”

“Honestly, Altaïr. A novice’s mistake? I heard from one of our brothers.”

“I misjudged the distance for the jump.”

“You should be beyond such mistakes.”

Altaïr scowled. “I was in a hurry. Are you going to get me out of here or not?”

“Ask nicely.” Malik sounded amused.

“How did you manage to climb all the way up here with one arm?”

“I have my ways.” Malik drawled, still amused. “So, what will it be?”

“I hate you.” Altaïr growled, glaring at the cell door. “Leave me alone.”

“So prideful.” Malik’s voice dropped away, and for one long moment in eternity, Altaïr’s heart dropped with it, in dull fear, then he heard a faint patter on a rooftop, below him, and he sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

Some time later, he opened them as the cell door swung open. “You are late.”

“Be grateful, useless one.” Malik tossed something onto him that made him grunt. It was a long stick, effectively a makeshift crutch. Altaïr managed to catch his blade, then the rest of his weapons. Both effectively one armed, re-arming Altaïr was a frustrating and slow experience, until Malik finally grunted in satisfaction and stalked over to the door, blade in hand. “If you cannot keep up, I’ll leave you behind.”

Steadying himself on the crutch and forcing himself to ignore the agony from his shattered leg, Altaïr hobbled over to Malik, who led him back down the winding corridor of the Templar’s tower, the steps slippery from blood and entrails, the stale air rank with the stench of death. Altaïr breathed deep even as he carefully navigated his way downwards, the pace painfully slow. Malik’s one arm was bloody to the elbows, and his boots and lower robes were stained crimson.

Licking his lips, as the predator within him stirred, interested despite its wounds, Altaïr nearly did not notice as they reached the end of the stairs. A pair of guards inspecting the bodies at the bottom of the stairs jerked to their feet, shouting alarm. One staggered back instantly, from a blade thrown into his neck by Altaïr; the other gurgled and slumped against the wall as Malik cut him open with a quick, efficient upward swing of his blade.

As Altaïr watched, silently amused, Malik fastidiously wiped his sword clean on the fresh bodies, sheathing it, then he reached down to close their eyes.

“Do you always do that?”

“Respect for the dead. That you should have learned,” Malik retorted. “Not that I am surprised that you lack for it, seeing as you respect nothing.”

“I respect strength.” Altaïr looked Malik over slowly, pointedly, but the other ignored him, continuing down the corridor towards the exit of the building.

“You had better be able to ride,” Malik added, as they emerged into the blessed sunlight, two horses tethered at the gate to the small compound, looking uneasy and skittish next to the circle of bloody corpses on the ground.

“Whatever happened to stealth?” Altaïr asked teasingly, as Malik mounted his horse.

“Better to clear a path such that certain injured, incompetent people would be able to limp out unscathed,” Malik retorted bitingly, leaning down to help Altaïr roughly onto the saddle of the second horse. “We are on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Half an hour’s ride and we will be back in the Bureau, if you are not dead from blood loss by then.”

Bedside manners [2/3]

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)

The bleeding effect is taking a dangerous toll on Subject 17 and when Shaun pushes Desmond too far, sexy things happen.

Bonus points if "Altair" calls Shaun Malik!

(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 04:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Question: Would you like it as Desmond is coming out of the Animus or some time other than that?

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Speaking of bleeding effect like the person above, I would like to request Desmond/Malik with Desmond in the present thinking of Malik as Altair would. Possibly while having a moment in private with his hand and imagination/memories. ;)

filled - Phantom pain

(Anonymous) 2010-01-29 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Finally, some action in this meme! This'll be my second filled request now. Hope you like it (it's a bit sad maybe)


He's fairly sure he's not going crazy. He doesn't feel crazy. Just because he's seeing things that shouldn't be there, just because he's awake and outside the Animus and lounging on his bed reading while everyone else is out, and Malik Al'Sayf is standing there on the other side of the room doesn't mean anything. At least there aren't any horses this time.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake," Malik says, his voice echoing a little like he's speaking from a distance, but there's a fond smile on his face and Desmond can only stare, his book forgotten. This has to be after the siege, after Altair began rebuilding the Brotherhood. Malik is no longer wearing a rafiq's robes, and he looks thinner, older. There is grey in his hair and a scar on his brow that Desmond doesn't remember seeing and he's coming into the room with a grace that Desmond isn't sure he had before, when he was working in Jerusalem and Desmond watches, can't even move as Malik comes over and sits down on the edge of the bed and smiles at him and he is...

The thought strikes Desmond with all the momentum of a slap, because Malik is beautiful, in a way that Desmond never realised. His eyes on Desmond's face and his mouth curving in a soft smile and his hand bracing him as he leans towards Desmond, and oh god, he's going to kiss him, isn't he? Except he can't, he can't, he's just a memory, he's not even here. The bed isn't moving under his weight and there's no sense of a physical presence and this, this must have happened before. Oh, God. He and Altair were lovers, must have been, because Malik is leaning closer and Desmond is closing his eyes and he wants to be kissed, can almost remember a time, Malik's mouth on his, their skin slick and sweaty between them, his legs wrapped around Malik's hips, his arms around his broad shoulders, Malik's breathless laughter warm against his throat...

Desire slams into Desmond like a oncoming train and he opens his eyes, but Malik is gone. The room is as it was. He's alone, and he's hard, and he can't stop thinking about how it felt, how much he needed it, needed Malik. He shoves his book away from him and shoves his hand into his jeans, no room but oh fuck that feels good. And maybe he's is starting to reassess that idea that he's not crazy, because he can remember, Christ, remember Malik's mouth around him, sucking, his fingers inside him, harsh and intrusive and incredible, can remember kneeling, Malik pushing into him, his voice rough with adoration and oh, God, Desmond wants that back, wants it again, right fucking now. He scrabbles to open his jeans, to push them down far enough to spread his legs a little and get his other hand down there while he jerks himself off and it's not enough, not enough, god damn it. His breath is almost sobbing out and his body doesn't want to take his finger but when it does, when he pushes and turns it awkwardly, lightning tears up his spine. He hears himself groan an eager, grateful sound, echo to others he remembers making lying with Malik, Malik's soothing murmur washing over him, his hand on him, his arm embracing him, his head lying on the pillow next to Desmond's, his gentle voice saying over and over and over in a way that Desmond believes with his whole heart, I love you, I adore you, you are mine.

Desmond comes in a gasping rush and it's not a relief. The ache's gone from between his legs, moved into his chest, a hollow, hopeless throb of something lost, of something impossible to regain, but that's not real either, right? Because he's not Altair, and Malik is not here. He never was, no matter how much Desmond lies there wishing otherwise.

Re: filled - Phantom pain

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writer anon

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-30 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
We need more Leonardo in here.

I would like to request Leo being taken hostage by the Templars as bait for Ezio. This of course leads to them having some "fun" with him since he is so goddamn molestable. As horribly angsty and noncon as you please with maybe some comforting at the end. Do with this what you will.

God, I feel like a horrible person.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-05 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Anon is at this >3

I approve very much, guys

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Fill: Bait (1/?)

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Fill: Bait (4/5)

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-30 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
Da Vinci decides he's tired of using corpses as his only anatomy models.

Dead people [1/1]

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 05:56 am (UTC)(link)

"Rigor mortis is the bane of my life," Leonardo muttered to himself. Forceps measured the length of stiffened fingers that would not uncurl no matter what Leonardo tried. And this had been a good specimen too, fairly muscular and not diseased, some unknown drunkard who had been found dead in an alley.

Leonardo had tossed out his third sketch when the door to his workshop opened. As he emerged from the dissecting room to see who it was, Ezio grinned at him, pulling his mask off and dropping it on a chair, and then staggering over to sprawl into another.

"Ezio. You are drunk."

"Not... not not not entirely," Ezio amended, waving away a glass of water and Leonardo's attempts to check his eyes. "Why are you in here? Outside is nice. Carnivale is nice."

"Should I ask why you are drunk, or should I guess 'Antonio'?"

"Excellent! You are a genius." Ezio peered at the sketchbook in Leonardo's hands. "Dead people," he concluded, sounding so proud of himself that Leonardo could not help but laugh, pulling Ezio's arm over his shoulder to guide him up the narrow stairs.

"Yes, Ezio, dead people."

"Not fun."

"No, not entirely."

"There are live people outside," Ezio dragged at his feet, clearly unwilling to go upstairs. "Let's go. I can drink a little, a little more, and you can draw live people."

"Live people would not keep still."

"Hah, that is where you are wrong!" Ezio squinted at him, and Leonardo tried not to breathe too deeply. Wine, brandy and possibly ale, all at once. Good God. "Live people can keep still, if you ask. Like me."

"Like you, amico mio?"

"Mm." Ezio was leaning heavily against him now, as Leonardo made it to the bedroom, pouring out the drunk assassin onto the bed and trying to remove his boots. "I can be still. Maybe not upright at the same time. At least, not now."

"Live people also have clothes,” Leonardo pointed out, as he managed to remove both boots, lining them neatly beside the bed, and then unbuckling scabbards, despite Ezio’s flailing attempts to help which actually hindered.

“Psssh. Clothes is a small, clothes are temporary,” Ezio amended, pulling off his glove and bracers, and then another thought seemed to occur abruptly to him. “You mean, the dead people have no breeches?”

“They no longer need breeches, Ezio.” Leonardo was struggling not to laugh, as he removed Ezio’s baldric, armor, cape and vests, folding them onto a chair. “Now sleep. You are going to have a very bad headache tomorrow.”

“You can draw me while I sleep,” Ezio yawned, struggling without much success with his shirt, then giving up and simply ripping it open, twisting until he had pulled it off completely.

Leonardo’s mouth suddenly became dry. “I… I think that would be a bad idea.”

“Why?” Ezio’s hands went to his breeches, and Leonardo quickly pinned them to the sheets. Mulishly, Ezio pulled ineffectively at Leonardo’s grip. “You do not draw people who have breeches.”

“Actually I do,” Leonardo said mildly, keeping a tight hold on the bubbling laugh in his throat and trying at the same time not to think about Ezio naked on his bed. “It just so happens that the dead are different. Sleep, Ezio.”

“I want you to draw me,” Ezio said stubbornly, pouting.

“Very well,” Leonardo said soothingly, and satisfied, Ezio relaxed onto the sheets as Leonardo settled beside him, turning the assassin’s left hand palm up to study the adductor pollicis.

“But with breeches.” Ezio’s alcohol-drowned mind seemed to have fixated on one single point.

“Yes, until you are sober enough to realize what you are doing to me,” Leonardo said wryly, and began to sketch.


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(Anonymous) 2010-01-30 07:17 am (UTC)(link)
Two-armed Malik/One-armed Malik

It would be fabulous if Altair's name came up for whatever reason ♥

(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 02:38 pm (UTC)(link)
“Come to bother me again, Altair?”

The man behind the desk smiles down at his half-drawn map. It’s a private smile, Malik thinks, one he has no business nor particular desire to see. Whether the conceited Altair is involved or not matters little to him except for his curiosity at why this man could possibly be the least pleased to see the pig-headed assassin. If Altair were bothering him, apparently more than once, no less, he’d fling himself off the nearest roof without a nice pile of hay under it.

Malik feels actual fear when the man looks up and his face contorts. Obviously he is not Altair, but his presence shouldn’t be quite that shocking.

“What witchcraft is this?”

“Um--” Suddenly everything feels wrong. Malik takes a step backward, on less steady legs than he would like, trying to think through his screaming instincts. It’s something he’s always been praised for, his intellect, but he comes up with nothing now except that he should probably run.

The man behind the desk may have one arm, but that means little. It’s his right and obviously going to be strong enough to compensate and, from here, Malik can even see the sword callouses as the other man advances on him, all grace he was probably forced to learn, sword held tight.   

“What is your name?”

Brown eyes pierce him and they’re strangely familiar, just like the man’s hair, and even his neatly trimmed facial hair. What Malik remembers of his father he can see in this man but he is not his father; he is too young, yet old enough to be a brother of his if he had one besides Kadar.

“Malik,” he rasps, back pressed against the bureau wall. He merely wanted to complete his mission. He hadn’t thought as soon as he set foot in the Jerusalem bureau he’d be accosted. “Malik Al-Sayf.”

“Funny,” the man snapped, “that is my name. Remove your hood.”

Reluctantly, and yet, more reluctant to be run through, he pulled his hood slowly back.

The man did not seem pleased. “If this is your idea of fun, get out now and I will not kill you. Come back and I will not be so merciful a second time.”

Malik stared as the other, obviously much higher ranked than himself if he wore the black outer robe, sheathed his blade and strode back behind the desk. He took a deep breath and then began to work on his map again, not raising his eyes or even looking in his direction as if to do so would expose the fact Malik wasn’t really there.

Except he was. “I only came here to complete a mission to--to kill a man named Zafir--”

Those eyes were on him again, looking through him, divining his intentions. “Zafir Al-Hakim.”


“I see.” Looking down to draw several lines, the man looked down and did not look back up immediately. Malik chanced moving closer. “Tell me: what is your age?”

“I-I am twenty-six years.”

The man laughed, head thrown back. When he ran out of mirth, he looked back at Malik, a smile curled on his lips. It wasn’t the private smile he had seen earlier, this one had more of an edge, more of a smirk. “This is impossible.”

“How old are you?” he snarled, angry at the man, frustrated by his lack of knowledge in this world obviously ahead of his own.

The smile grew wider though it turned a bit introspective. Sadness seemed to hang around the eyes of this man. Malik could not guess if it was from the loss of his arm or something more but whatever it was had effected him deeply. Lines were under his eyes and he was thinner than Malik himself was. “A question for another day, I think.”

“What of my target?” Malik asked at length, not sure he wanted to know any longer.

“You’ll find he’s been dead for quite some time. I killed him years ago. Go the graveyard at the south end of the city: see for yourself. I doubt you‘d be inclined to believe me any other way.”

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It's still going, srsly? (6/?)

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It's still going, srsly? (7/?)

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It's still going, srsly? (8/?)

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It's still going, srsly? (9/9)

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Oh noes!! 404 alarm

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Re: It's still going, srsly? (9/9)

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-30 01:44 pm (UTC)(link)

Leonardo paints Ezio - by which I mean he actually paints Ezio. Naked skin makes a wonderful canvas.

(Anonymous) 2010-01-30 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Do want writing/painting kink. Make it happen, anon!

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Filled for you!

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OP here

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Anon here!

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-30 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Altaïr wants to be forgiven.

(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 12:04 am (UTC)(link)
Anon is on the case!

Hamartia (1/?)

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
Ghusl ( (bonus points for after sex).

(Anonymous) 2010-07-17 11:03 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not a writefag anon, but I will attempt a drabble for you, OP.

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Cleansed {1b/1} (whoops, forgot the title on 1a)

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 09:54 am (UTC)(link)
"Leonardo! Ezio tells me you travel often to Milano. I have a grand willa in Toscana. You must come visit me there."

Who else thought this was the most awkward thing they've ever heard?

Uncle Mario/Leonardo.

Leo takes up the offer to go to Mario's villa, but things turn a bit awkward. Mario's a bit too drunk and Leo DOES-NOT-WANT.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 05:28 am (UTC)(link)
(I hope this is okay...I couldn't make Mario rape Leo or anything like that, I just couldn't see him doing that xDD;; )

Leonardo was greeted warmly in Mario’s villa. Truthfully he really only accepted the offer in hopes of seeing Ezio more. He wasn’t quite so lucky. He managed to catch the assassin right as he arrived. While pleased to see the painter, he was forced to leave on a mission. Leonardo understood, the other had grown rather busy in the growing weeks, he was lucky to see the other right before hand. Before he left, the assassin promised the painter a moment alone, and offered a rather nice goodbye. Leaving Leonardo shuddering in anticipation, wishing he didn’t have to wait.

But now that he was here, and without the younger assassin, he might as well enjoy himself. He was offered some space within the same office that Ezio’s sister Claudia worked in. He could see Ezio in her. She was strong willed, passionate. Thought coming from such a high class family, it almost seemed strange to see her work so hard over the books like that. The way she was dressed, even how she acted. But it seemed as though the years of work had forced her to grow accustom towards it. Her wit was as quick as her hand, as she quickly looked over the painter. “So this is the man who has charmed my brother so much?” she asked, leaving Leonardo rather embarrassed.

Thankfully Mario had saved him from the rather inquiring words of Ezio’s sister, as he was lead towards Mario’s office. “So sorry of my niece, I hope she does not offend,” he said as Leonardo quickly shook his head.

“No, no, it is fine,” he said with a smile,” he said as he was offered a seat, Mario pulling out what looked like rather nice wine. Pouring Leonardo a glass, he did the same for himself as the two drank for their health.

Mario was a nice enough man, intelligent and experienced. The conversation was nice enough for a while. They had mutual ground on the codex pages, both able to read and understand them. They discussed the apple for a bit, though in hushed tones, as if truly afraid of really delving into it too deeply. But Mario was not content to keep the topic as such. Leonardo began to notice that the other was drinking far more then himself. Leonardo liked a fine wine now and again, but he never drank to really go under the influence. Mario on the other hand seemed to drink it like the waters of life itself.

“Ah yes, my brother and I…we used to be little devils. Probably worse then Ezio and Federico. Though they…they have caused trouble,” he said fondly, his face red from the drink. Leonardo smiled lightly, tapping his empty glass.

“Boy’s will be boys after all,”

“Mmm yes. Ezio was too much like his father at that age. Always chasing after something beautiful,” he said as his eyes slowly moved to Leonardo, trailing along his form. For a moment the artist was a bit embarrassed, having the other stare at him like such. The older man almost looking through him.

pt 2. end

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anon fail

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Desmond/Altair or Altair/Desmond, whichever you wish.
It's all in Desmond's head. Bonus points if Desmond 'accidentally' moans Shaun's name during sexy times.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-02 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
Working on it!


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Fill [1/?]

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(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Altair finds out that Malik's stump is very sensitive.

(Anonymous) 2010-01-31 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
There are some things that Altair does not know about him and that Malik would never tell anyone. Like how sometimes he has nightmares about Solomon’s Temple, or that he actually likes falling asleep on Altair’s arm, or that he finds it amusing and just a tad endearing when he can make the man blush and does it as often as possible.

He also would never tell anyone, ever, that the place where his arm used to be is…hypersensitive. He wraps it with soft cloths simply so his robes will not rub against the skin during the day and never does Altair touch it when they are both stripped and sweating. He is either too focused on other things or simply does not wish to, and that is perfectly fine with Malik. He prefers it that way.

So when one day he is pressed back against a pile of pillows in a side room in the Jerusalem bureau, stripped to the waist and being thoroughly kissed, and Altair’s hand slips in the slickness of his sweat and brushes down the bicep of his stunted left arm, he gasps and arches his back at the flare of tingling ecstasy. Altair jerks back in shock, the first words of an apology on his lips, before he really looks at the man he was kissing and sees him biting his lip. Malik instantly stops and glares at him. “Do not even think of it.”

But such is Altair’s nature and he quickly presses his lips to Malik’s shoulder, slowly working his way down. Malik squirms but has nowhere to go with Altair straddling him, bucking to try and throw him off before he just ends up moaning and shuddering at the scrape of teeth. It is a bit humiliating Altair has found a weakness of his and is blatantly exploring it but his body begs to differ as he rubs himself against the other man.

There was hardly enough air before and now there seems to be none at all when the master assassin sets to the flesh delicately with his tongue and teeth and lips and fingers. Malik’s chest heaves quickly with his fast breaths and he refuses to watch Altair, head turned far away to the right and eyes squeezed shut, but though his eyes are closed he cannot seem to shut his mouth. High-pitched noises escape between his lips, groans and whimpers and whines as Altair’s tongue sparks fire through his entire body, hips taking on a life of their own as he frantically pushes against the man. He thinks the least he could do is produce something coherent but, when he tries, cannot get past the first syllable of the master assassin’s name and once more moans.

When Altair actually bites, high up near where his arm joins his shoulder as to avoid unnecessary pain, he fists the man’s hood so hard his knuckles turn white and pulls him close enough to bury his face in the man’s neck, hips stuttering to a stop. He shouts and sobs out his pleasure pathetically for anyone who may be nearby to hear and when it finally ends, falls back against the pillows and truly glares.

Altair laughs. “Was it so bad, Malik?”

“As soon as I find a blade, I’m going to kill you.”

The master assassin closed his eyes and shivered. “As long as it’s you, I think I could enjoy it.”

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
Altair being insufferable because he's sick. Kudos if you work Malik in there.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 05:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Come, Altair. You must rest." Malik ushered the other man towards a simple bed.

"No, I must train. I cannot afford to rest." Altair retorted.

"And it is such thinking that has made you ill! You can barely stand! Tell me who you are planning on training in such a state?"

"I am fine now. Release me and let me train!" Altair struggled against the man who was able to hold him down with just his one arm. This should have been proof enough to anyone lucid that Altair was not well.

"You most certainly are not fine." Malik hissed, pushing Altair down onto the bedding and straddling him to keep him from getting back up. "Lie down and rest."

"I do not have time for this!" Altair struggled in vain against Malik's weight, but the rafiq was steadfast and did not move.

"I do not care what you do or do not have time for. You are unwell and must read to regain your strength. I have here a remedy from the pharmacist to quicken the healing." Malik said evenly as he removed a pouch from his belt and extracted a small bottle.

"I am not ill." Altair insisted.

"Then why did you collapse during the training exercise? You- of all the brothers- fell to the ground during the most mundane of exercises and you are not unwell? Do not be ridiculous." Malik snapped, still sitting on Altair who would try to unbalance the other man from time to time. "Stop trying to escape. I will not let it happen. You will never recover swiftly unless you allow me to help you."

Altair frowned, unhappy with the turn of events, but finally complied. He allowed Malik to open his robes as he dabbed something that smelled of musk and camphor, causing him to wrinkle his nose. It was a penetrating smell that invaded his nostrils and he did not much care for it.

"This should help open your nose." Malik explained, "It is Muthallaathat."

"It smells awful." Altair complained.

"See, it is already working." Malik replied with a smirk. Altair's frown deepened. "This will help, but you will need to rest. I'm going to be keeping an eye on you, so do not get any ideas." He fixed the skilled assassin with an icy glare. If looks could kill, Altair would be even deadlier right now. "Perhaps I shall just remain atop you." Malik mused, grinning widely.

"Do not dare..." Altair hissed, "Or I will-"

"You will what? You cannot even topple me from my perch. You could not even fend me off- I who am missing one arm."

"Do not try to play yourself off as a weakling because you lack an arm."

"I am not, but I would not think it possible to be much a hindrance to you." Malik replied coolly, "Thankfully you are not at full strength and that is all the proof you should need to know you are ailing." Altair opened his mouth to retort, but was unable to think of one. He closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line and finally stopped trying to get Malik off of him.

"Fine. I'll rest."

"I knew you would see things my way." <-- where I got infos on Muslim medicinal practices of the time.


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(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
Anyone/Altair (though Malik or Robert are preferable)

I just really want uke!Altair. Like burning.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Anon is working on it.

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Re: OP

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 03:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Malik/Altair or Altair/Malik. Kadar is alive or hasn't died yet, walks in on the two, and is surprised he likes what he sees.

(Anonymous) 2010-04-16 11:30 am (UTC)(link)
I am not the writefag for this, but I found this a while back, and just ran into this prompt, and I do hope it's what you're looking for, there's 6 parts. Here's part 1--a rather enjoyable read up 'till the 6th chapter where the write fag puts in an OC unintentionally (I'd think).