asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

AAAAWWWWW BENE

Seriously, I cannot fucking wait for the next part(s). Rebecca is a super freak - a super freak. ~~She's super freaky, yow~~

Brava, indeed! This fill is like Christmas coming early for me- I love that Rebecca's response to "It isn't...actually a time machine" is "Who cares?" and I love that she turns the vibrator up to eleven to start out with and I basically love everything about this fill. <3333333

“Uh… up to eleven? I wanted to show off a little,” - THIS. This line got read with Rebbecca's voice in my head. Good job!

SHE MODDED A VIBRATOR. That's so awesome, I can't even.

I love, love, love the consent tap-dancing you've got going on here. It's really sexy that Shaun is gathering his courage because he really DOES want to do this, but he knows if he said no it would all stop. Nice.

The love of home is tangible in this, I really like it. Also, CLIFFHANGER. Oh, you devil!

hey, It's amusing to me! Please Continue!

thirded HARD!

Second because I like OOC, kind-of-a-sympathetic-character Cesare.

They'd be man-wives!

Oh dear, that made me giggle. All I could think of was them acting like my dad and his 'man-wife' as we dubbed them. They'll call each other just because, they're always visiting, and they gossip like old ladies.

Oh dear, I want to see how this prompt goes...

Not!OP lurves this!

I giggled throughout this thing. Too cute.

Hahaha, this fic is fun...! =D
Normally, Alex gets Desmond in Protocreed, so I'm pleasantly surprised that Desmond and Dana are together. Especially with their combined disdain of whatever Alex's opinion is.
Disdain...DesDana... *their pairing name is now a pun!*
I'm enjoying the silly, write!anon! Keep going!

Retrieval!anon is enjoying this fill as well

Old men in an established relationship. Anything from teeth-rotting cute fluff to pure crack will do.
Please make it happen, Anons.

I can see Rebecca or Desmond doing this, then pulling the other in after a bit...

OP here. Write!anon, I love how well you write these two. I can't get over it. I can almost read what's going through Shauns mind. xD Keep calm and put your butt in her lap, Shaun.
Thank you so much, and can't wait to read more!

Dying at the thought of all the characters together for this prompt. Altair and Ezio pranking everyone >>> :D

SECONDED for teh lulz. :D

It is whispered among them that Ezio Auditore is a god, or perhaps the descendant of a god. The man never seems to get sick, never seems to ache from age (that they can see or hear), and he never seems to be hurt long from any wounds. He has a gift, everyone says, that allows him to see an enemy, a target, an ally. He swims with ease beneath heavy layers, rebuilds all of Rome with an endless supply of florins. “A god,” every recruit whispers to each other over pieces of hard bread and soup, or over the clash of steel, the thwang of a bow. It’s a hard image to keep up, but Ezio manages somehow.

“A god,” Vittorio says, bobbing up and down while reclined on Enu’s back. “Everyone is saying it: Mentore is a god.”

Enu laughs breathlessly under the strain of doing push-ups with the added weight. His dark skin, baked by the generation and sun of Africa, is taunt and carved with muscle. He keeps his marksman arms strong by coercing one of the youngest to sit on him while he exercises. A young boy, no more than nineteen and rarely enlisted in this profession by Ezio because he still has the slight baby’s curl to his short hair, the roundness of youth to his jaws.

Vittorio doesn’t seem to mind, as it is a way to skip out on the daily routine of being a Tiber “wife”: sewing, cooking, washing uniforms, gathering weapons, checking coops. Moglie they call him teasingly, along with one other boy about his age. “They say if you stab him, he won’t die,” continues Vittorio, perhaps thinking about the similar rumors of La Volpe.

“And do you believe that?” asks Enu through a grunt on an upward push.

“Nothing is true,” says a sudden voice, a strong and confident one that pierces the quiet of the room.

Enu freezes half-way in his swoop toward the ground, and Vittorio jerks upright. Ezio is like a ghost still, haunting room after room with an unnatural silence that leaves even the most skilled Master Assassins jumping in their skin. He likes it that way, likes to keep them all on their toes. None of the apprentices can ever seem to understand how he does it in all those layers. Their faces are always priceless. It’s like a miracle to them, but they witness it with their own eyes, and so it is real. They have become believers in the proficiency of a trained Assassin.

Vittorio looks both surprised and astounded at Ezio’s entrance, and Enu relaxes down against the floor slowly.

“Mentore!” chirps Vittorio, rolling himself off Enu and up to his feet. “Are you dismissing the rumors about yourself?”

“If you can find truth in these rumors,” Ezio says, placing a heavy hand on Vittorio’s head, “then you may believe them.” Behind him, three of the recruits he had gathered earlier file into the room.

Rocco is first (as always, Ezio thinks), and he throws a few pretend punches at Vittorio’s ribs which make his white robes sway near his knees. Vittorio hunches in reflex and grabs his stomach, but is too slow to make any motions of defending or moving. Rocco has ample opportunity to fake an upper-cut just under Vittorio’s chin. Ezio can make out the appropriate reactions to the attack long before they are executed, like a slow blur in time. Rocco grins widely through his short beard at his success, all teeth. “Slacking off, rookie?” he asks, and then he laughs when Vittorio puffs up like an offended bird.

Severino, Ezio senses, doesn’t seem half as amused as Valeria does about the teasing. There are serious lines all over his face, a bad pinch of his sharp brows. His eyes, as he sternly watches the other five, are so black that no emotion escapes them, and he looks placidly grim. He is a shady apparition lingering on the edge of their gathering, very different from the laid-back cousin standing beside him, very different from the baby-faced Vittorio and ruggedly handsome faces of Rocco and Enu. Ezio, before, thought maybe it was a bad thing to have such a wraith among his men, but now he knows better. The somber attitude keeps many of the rowdy in line. Namely Rocco.

Valeria, on the other hand, is forever smiling, with deep cupid’s bow and feminine eyes. She is married, but even then, Ezio can admit to himself that she is a beautiful woman. Strong and beautiful, like the women of Italy should be.

“Marco needs some help,” Ezio says to Vittorio finally. He then turns his amber eyes to Enu. “And I need your help,” he adds, motioning to the other three. “Martucci, Sabelli, and I are teaching the others the crossbow. We could use the expertise of a skilled marksman.”

Enu nods respectively, smile on his lips. “Of course, Mentore.”

Ezio, rounding the four Assassins together with a hand, move to leave, but Vittorio is right on their heels. “Mentore!” he calls, raising an arm before letting it fall back to his side. Simultaneously, Ezio and the others halt and glance back. “I want to learn, too,” Vittorio says quickly.

Rocco laughs, and wiggles his fingers at the bottom of his face. “Find Mentore when you have some fuzz on your chin, boy,” he says.

Vittorio cuts Rocco a playful glare, and Ezio can’t help but to smile. He is vaguely reminded of himself, reminded of his brother Federico, and it leaves a bittersweet taste on the corner of his mind. “Unfortunately, Martucci is right,” Ezio says reluctantly to Vittorio, and it makes the young novice frown. Glancing up, Ezio nods at the others and waves his hand. “Go ahead. I will meet you there.”

“Don’t let his baby face coerce you into anything, Mentore,” Rocco says over his shoulder as the Assassins hesitantly file out of the door. It earns him a slap against the shoulders from Severino, and Rocco whines under his breath. “Jesus, don’t,” he sputters. “My back already hurts.”

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time on it,” and the following retort is lost as their bickering voices and chuckles vanish down the hallway.

Ezio finally turns back to Vittorio with a shake of his hooded head. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do with them all. “You are eager to learn,” he says, and he’s glad for that. “That’s good. However, you are still young, still have a lot of training to do.”

“I won’t learn if I’m never given the chance,” Vittorio says solemnly.

“You will have a long life with plenty of chances,” reassures Ezio. “We need you here, more than anything.” The corner of Ezio’s lips turn up just a little. “You may think it is nothing, it is useless, but it is everything. I use to think the same thing when I was your age.” Ezio raises his hand to toward the room, but the motion is further than that: Tiber. He’s not entirely sure where they would all be without the help of a few novices. Where they would be without the help of La Volpe, Machiavelli, or Bartolomeo, all of who weren’t even traditional Assassins. “You are the base of the pyramid that keeps it standing, the support that keeps the rest of us held strong. This is our home, the Assassins’ home, and you help keep it running smoothly. I would not be at the top without you, without your help. No one else can do what you do for us. They will help you along the way, this I promise.”

“I just…” Vittorio sighs exasperatedly. “All right,” he says.

“Go help Marco,” Ezio urges. “I will get Enu to teach you the crossbow when you are ready. Ah.” Ezio slowly crosses his arms and raises a brow. “How is our little aviary?”

Vittorio smiles childishly. “Well.”

“Bene.” Ezio backs up toward the door and makes a shift with his arm to allow the novice to exit first. The sole reason for his haste is God knows how much ruckus is currently ensuing with the bowman group, especially when Rocco is involved.

“Oh, Menotre,” Vittorio suddenly calls from the other end of the hall, and Ezio pauses to glance over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Another smile comes to Ezio’s mouth, and he nods his head before disappearing quietly around the corner in a hushed flurry of robes.

—

It was dark, Acre was a day behind him and Masyaf more than that ahead of him. Azrael sat in front of the fire for the night slowly rolling the Apple between his fingers. Since his first meeting (not the last) with Robert a week ago he hadn’t spoken to it, nor it to him, he wasn’t worried though, it had been quiet for longer than this. Now though, now it was time to talk.

“I know you can hear me,” he said.

“MAYBE,” was the unimpressed tone.

“You promised you would listen to me,” he reminded it.

“I DID. WHAT DO YOU WANT HUMAN?”

“Show yourself.”

There was a long silence, “YOU MUST BE BLIND TO NOT SEE ME IN YOUR HAND,” they said.

“I know you have another form, a man, show yourself as that.”

“WHY?”

“Just do it,” and he forced the issue. It took surprisingly little force and he blinked away a few black spots to look across the fire at the man standing there. His head tipped tipped back as he looked up at him, his mouth going dry.

“DOES THIS SATISFY?” he asked his voice bland, uncaring. The first thing that shot through Azrael’s head before he could stop himself was ‘no, you could never satisfy’ and he was grateful that he could not read minds. He knew that much at least.

“You’re not wearing any clothes,” he said intelligently unable to stop his eyes from scouring over his body which was flat and smooth and powerful, his skin the color of worked bronze, almost golden in the light of the camp fire.

“I HAVE NO NEED OF THEM,” he said looking down at him.

“Sit,” he ordered and the bronze man sat with a sigh, his legs folding under himself in a perfectly smooth movement. Azrael couldn’t find his voice for several moments. This was the second longest he’d ever seen this golden man, one made of an uncountable points of different shades of gold. He just stared and watched as he- it? They didn’t have a gender when they spoke, even aloud- stared right back. Only unlike Azrael’s theirs was without interest, it was with boredom and he blinked his bright golden eyes at Azrael dully. “What are you?” he found himself asking.

“DO YOU WANT THE LONG ANSWER OR THE SHORT ONE?” came the perfectly controlled response.

Azrael didn’t know. How long was the long answer? He had more questions though, he didn’t have time for the long answer. “The short one.”

“I AM A TOOL OF THE GODS, HUMAN,” they said and that startled Azrael so badly he actually rocked back a little. “YOU ARE PLAYING WITH FIRE AND YOU ARE NO PROMETHEUS,” he smirked a little, like it was somehow funny.

Azrael stared at him and hated how his palms started to sweat. “What are you, really,” he growled.

“A TOOL.”

“What is your purpose?”

Now he smirked wider, “MY DUTY IS TO PROVIDE ASSISTANCE TO THOSE IN NEED. I AM AN ASSISTANT, A SECRETARY, A TEACHER, AN ENABLER. I HELP YOU HELP YOURSELF,” he said and Azrael knew then where he’d been snagged. He’d said ‘I will do as you say so long as I am used for my purpose.’ Damn.

“I have no use for something like that. And if you are that why did you let me kill Zafir?”

“I WAS GIFTED WITH WAYS TO PROTECT MYSELF. I ONLY ALLOWED YOU TO USE SUCH FUNCTIONS IN ORDER TO DO SO. AS IT WAS YOU COULD HAVE DIED.”

“So then can you do it without my say?”

“IF I WANTED. IT WAS NOT HARD FOR ME TO INCAPACITATE YOU WHEN YOU TRIED TO FORCE MY HAND ONCE BEFORE,” he reminded him of the time he’d made him appear then promptly ravaged his mind in such a way that the pain had made him pass out.

“Then why do you let me live if you could kill me?”

“YOU HAVE YOUR USES,” he said softly and leaned forward till he was on all fours. He moved forward right into the fire, his body not even disrupting the wood or embers and Azrael realized what he was seeing wasn’t actually solid. More like a mirage. He scooted back slightly despite himself when the golden man was suddenly in front of him, still on all fours, staring at him with those eyes so gold they glowed. “YOU WILL DO GREAT THINGS. I WOULD BE STUPID TO KILL YOU.”

Azrael’s eyes widened. “You can see the future?”

“I HAVE A LIMITED CAPACITY OF SIGHT, YES,” he agreed, leaning back to sit upon his calfs.

“What do you see?” he asked.

apparently you can fail at numbering and then you can FAIL at numbering
--

“NOPE.”

“What! What do you mean no!” he roared and lunged forward as if to grab him by the throat but his hand went right through the golden man.

The an laughed, mocking him and Azrael growled. “YOU WILL HAVE EVERYTHING YOU COULD EVER WANT, AND THEN, WHEN YOU DO NOT EXPECT IT; DEATH WILL TAKE YOU FROM THIS LIFE,” he said with a cocky, mocking, smile.

“Do I become Grand Master after that idiot dies?” he demanded.

“DO YOU WANT TO?” he asked innocently his voice and face back to that flatness as before.

“Yes,” he said. Then he had the epiphany, “That’s what you do. You just said it. You help people help themselves,” and they just hummed. “Make me Grand Master of the Assassins,” he said.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT?”

“Yes.”

“YOU’RE SURE?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

“AND WHAT OF THE TEMPLARS?” he said softly and it didn’t just sound in his ears but also echoed in his mind and made him shiver, “WHAT ABOUT ROBERT?” they purred and Azrael shivered.

“I—” he stumbled over his words and had to think about that. He was not just an Assassin. He was a Templar. If he became the leader of the Assassins then he could not be a Templar. Yes, of course he couldn’t.

“I WILL LET YOU PONDER WHAT YOU WANT. SINCE IT IS OBVIOUS YOU DO NOT KNOW.”

“Wait,” he gasped and the man gave him an annoyed look. “What do you want?”

“WHAT DO I WANT?,” he made an unimpressed snort. “WHAT I WANT DOESN’T MATTER. I AM JUST A TOOL,” and he burst apart into a million tiny beads of gold. Azrael frowned at where he had been and looked down at the Apple. He had a great deal to think about.

I feel bad for calling it a mental disorder, but that's what I am asking for.

I want to read a fic about an Assassin (or a Templar, not too picky) with a mental disorder. Not one that would land you in a loony bin, but a mental disorder.

Currently, I am partial to Shaun being autistic or having Asperger's Syndrom. Just look it up, and I kind of starts to fit him... (At least in my head it does)

If modern, would love to see the inclusion of an aid animal. Did you know that there is such a thing as an Autism dog? Meeting one (in training) was what inspired this prompt. Sadie was just too cute...

Wait a sec, gotta brush my teeth from all the sweetness...

Ok, with that, one huge "D'awww!" to what you've got right now. Seriously. Love it.

OP, I have just begun to write this, and due to my crazeh mind, I was wondering if I could change some things?

First off, because I watched too many Jack Black movies, I have made the female recruit awkwardly comical. Not really a flirter, but there's charm ...

Secondly, I was wondering if the intended night sex could be ommitted for ... something else? I don't really wanna spoil it, but I decided to make the first night devoid of sex. It will come later, however.

You might be D:< WTFH right now, but I hope you won't be too mad. @_@ My fingers actually aren't procastinating because I love this prompt. lol

Oh, I'm perfectly fine with whatever personality you give her, anon, just as long as she has some! Besides, I'm awkward myself, so I approve.

Go right ahead, anon. I'm not set on sexy times at all, I just really want ~romance~ because that's just the way I roll.

I'm not mad at all, I'd love to see what you come up with. Although I'm gonna have a tough time writing man!smut, lol. ~~as if I can write smut at all wololo~~

Missfire?

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

Re: Like Christmas Came Early (As Shaun Nearly Did) [4/??]

Re: Like Christmas Came Early (As Shaun Nearly Did) [4/??]

Re: Like Christmas Came Early (As Shaun Nearly Did) [4/??]

Re: Fighter, Lover, Theif, Scholar [1/?]

Re: Upside-Down Adversity 2.5

Re: Ezio/Leonardo romance + mechs. Yeah, you heard me.

no subject

Re: Umar Ibn-La'Ahad + Faheem Al-Sayf

Re: Upside-Down Adversity 2.5

OP: Upside-Down Adversity 2.5

Re: Upside-Down Adversity 2.5

La Volpe/Machiavelli

Re: Fun time!

Re: Like Christmas Came Early (As Shaun Nearly Did) [4/??]

Re: Fun time!

Alis Aquilae [1.1]

Alis Aquilae [1.2]

Alis Aquilae [1.3]

Re: Shades of Gold (11/?)

Re: Shades of Gold (13/?)

Differently Abled

Re: Alis Aquilae [1.3]

So ... this might not make you too happy ...

OP is actually super happy right now!

no subject