asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-03-29 05:37 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-03-29 05:37 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.3
Fill Only
Fill Only
Get out of my bureau!
☃ 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
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Ezio/Female Character Domination and Dirty Sex
(Anonymous) 2011-06-08 05:48 pm (UTC)(link)Bonus if they're cute and sweet outside of the bedroom and then total animals behind closed doors.
I also love slightly older man Ezio, but that's not critical, anons. PLEASE. I'm dying for dommy het Ezio!
Re: Ezio/Female Character Domination and Dirty Sex
(Anonymous) 2011-06-09 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Ezio/Female Character Domination and Dirty Sex
(Anonymous) 2011-06-09 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Ezio/Female Character Domination and Dirty Sex
(Anonymous) 2011-06-11 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)this prompt. my ovaries. BOOM.
somebody make dis shit happen.
Re: Ezio/Female Character Domination and Dirty Sex
(Anonymous) 2011-06-14 02:33 am (UTC)(link)[Bonds Unbroken 1/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-06-15 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)His hands trembled as he smoothed the cloak down in his pack. She watched that one tremble and knew he would not come back. The winds outside tumbled into the room, rustling the crinkled silk curtains and sending them floating up toward his face. The scent of cypress and juniper, of the garden rosemary and the last of the lilacs, filled her and it hurt, pressing her lungs to overfull until they felt like they might burst. He blinked slowly, the corners of his eyes as wrinkled as the curtains and she knew he smelled it too. Home. Would he recall that perfume months from now, trapped on some lonely stretch of sand in a far off land?
He sat down heavily in the bench nestled against the window. She tried not to see it, the tremor in his legs and arms, but he was older now and there was no escaping that. If she squinted, he was hale and young again, holding their firstborn in one arm, turning him toward the sunlight and watching as his tiny nose wrinkled and sneezed...
“Come here to me.”
Ottavia brushed by the pack lying open on the bed, her fingertips touching the worn canvas as she went. Age changed many things, but not the way her smaller frame tucked so perfectly into his. She nestled into his chest, seated on his right leg with her his chin resting on the top of her head. His beard was coming in thicker now, liberally salted and silvered. Hands large and firm and heavily scarred cradled her, stroked idly up and down her arm. It comforted her, but nothing could chase away the undercurrent of dread souring every breath she took. She would not weep. Assassins did not weep.
Her husband had taught her that. Before she knew the architecture of his naked body, before she vowed to love and protect him, before their children, Ezio had taught her to curb the urge to give in to emotion.
“There will be more days like this,” he said, standing over her as she huddled against a crumbling parapet. She had misjudged the distance and cracked her knee on the stone crenellations. Blood blossomed like a red flower over her knee, staining her already-dirtied assassin whites.
His stare was cold, impassive. “Cry each time you lose a nail or scrape your elbow and you will spend the rest of your life in tears.”
Ottavia stirred from the memory, her husband’s thumb pressing gently across her lower lip. It was a silent question.
“I thought you were crazed,” she whispered, laughing quietly. “I thought I would die trying to impress you.”
“You nearly did,” Ezio replied. “Several times, if memory serves.”
“But it worked.”
“You were difficult to ignore.”
Outside, she heard laughter in the garden. Ezio turned toward the sound, craning his neck. His face seemed to freeze, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and terror. He knows, she thought with a heavy heart, he knows he will not return.
“One hour more,” Ezio said softly, frowning. “I have delayed too long already.”
“Your ancestors are long dead. Surely they can wait?” Ottavia wanted to strike him. Sometimes it was like being his apprentice again. How a good man could be so selfish, she would never understand. “Your children need you.” I need you.
“They are grown. And strong.”
“Yet you were older than Gio when you lost your father. Have you forgotten that pain?”
He shook his head and shrank back against the window, his grip around her relaxing. “You think I will not return,” he said. And then he smiled, “Your faith is overwhelming, dear heart.”
[Bonds Unbroken 2/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-06-15 08:35 pm (UTC)(link)“Bartolomeo warned me that you would be a demanding wife. I seem to relearn that lesson every hour...”
Ottavia pinched the back of his neck, smiling when he chuckled and seemed not to feel the bite of her fingers.
“I promise.”
She filled the loneliness in the ensuing days with their children. The boys took their father’s absence as they usually did, busying themselves with swordplay and their studies. It would become easier, she knew, when they stopped feeling the empty chair at breakfast and supper so profoundly. Maybe she would ask friends to the house. There was a new assassin recruit who had some skill with music, and he had already written to offer his company. She said yes, but regretted it the moment the boy appeared. He stepped in out of the dusky coolness with his face hidden by the point of his white hood. At once it reminded her of the many times Ezio had rushed in after a long day, his face concealed for only an instant before he tossed back his cowl and smiled, warming the room and every part of her from her scalp to her toes...
Marietta liked the musician boy. He had eyes like a doe and sang sweetly enough, his voice winding through the rooms and easing, for a moment, the emptiness of the house. The boys finished their reading after supper and went up to the balcony to look for constellations and test out the charts left to them by Ezio and Leonardo. Little Federico was already enamored of sciences and philosophy. Eleven years old and lecturing her on the rotation of the planets, the curvature of the horizon and the mystery of bumblebees flying with their great, fat bodies and tiny wings. Marietta seemed not to know who or what she wanted to be yet, enjoying sewing one day and detesting in the next. The young girl took up most of her time now, since Gio was old enough to watch Fedi and keep him entertained.
The assassin boy left an hour or two after the meal concluded. Ottavia escorted her daughter up to the second floor of the modest estate, listening to the girl chatter about how well she liked the singer Pietro and his pretty voice. The girl had her own room, one set just down the hall from where Ottavia and Ezio slept. When he was home, she corrected, wondering what her husband was doing at that moment. Constantinople felt like a lifetime away.
“Will papa bring many gifts?” Marietta asked, pulling off her frock and getting hopelessly tangled in the process.
Ottavia helped the girl into her nightgown, taking a brush from the nearby table to comb out a day’s worth of snarls in the girl’s hair. She found a few stray flower blossoms hiding in her daughter’s yellow hair. The boys had inherited Ezio’s dark complexion, but Marietta took after her mother, petite and fare.
“What would you like him to bring?” she asked, resting against the headboard and brushing Marietta’s waves.
“Princes maybe,” the girl answered. She tapped a small finger against her lips, considering the question with grave seriousness. “Spices and perfumes. Do they have those in Constand... Consanter...”
“Constantinople. Yes, I believe they have all of those things in abundance. But the princes might complain. I don’t know if they will want to leave home, as charming and persuasive as your father may be...”
“They will like it better here,” Marietta assured her. “And I will read them stories if they get lonely.”
Ottavia nodded, feeling a bit of her sadness melt away. “Where would they stay? I shouldn’t think princes belong in the stables or the larder.”
[Bonds Unbroken 3/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-06-15 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)“You’ve thought of everything, sweets.”
Marietta nodded, hiding a yawn behind her fist. After two brief stories, Ottavia slid out of the room on silent feet. The boys were still outside, their muted voices drifting down the hall from the open balcony doors. Ottavia bid them goodnight. She couldn’t linger. Gio was the hardest of all to face. Looking at him was like seeing a ghost. The tapered amber eyes, the hint of a beard beginning along his jaw, the confident jut of his shoulders and that cocky smile...
Their bedchamber provided solitude but not solace. Everything smelled of him and every inch was drenched in memory. Sleep was long in coming. If she concentrated hard enough she could feel his fingertips grazing her spine, skipping down playfully toward her waist... It was a mistake to think of his hands. They were the part of him that first enticed her those long years ago, the part that wore down her defenses and opened her up to the grief and beauty of love. With eyes tightly closed, Ottavia grinned, remembering their first meeting, her first glimpse of the most infamous man in Rome...
It was stunningly hot. She sweltered under her concealing hood but taking it off was not an option. Tavia paced, glancing up at the broken dome of the museo. Sunlight filtered in through the gaps in the stonework, a silver haze piercing the darkness. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, drifting like tufts of dandelion fuzz in the stagnant air. She wiped at the sweat filming her brow. In the corner, two covered canvases waited. This was madness... To steal from Leonardo da Vinci was insane, suicidal... But what could she do? She needed help, and not just any help...
The sound of one footstep and the rasping baritone of his voice sent cold shivers up her spine.
“You wanted my attention,” he said and she heard the snarl in his words. “Unfortunately, now you have it.”
The scrape of his blade leaving its scabbard almost tore her resolve. But Ottavia turned, slowly, both hands in the air. It was a surrender, one she hoped he would heed. If the whispers were to be believed, Auditore was only a killer when he had to be. His face was a black hole in the deep shadow of his hood. What sort of lunatic wore pure white to hunt and kill? Ottavia shuddered, knowing the answer. The sort that fears no man or woman, the sort that is half-man, half-shadow.
Her mouth ran suddenly dry. The light piercing the ceiling struck the flat of his blade, glinting, a sinister wink.
“Over there,” she said, tossing her head. “The master’s painting, and one more. A gift. A... peace offering.”
Ottavia kept her hands in the air. The assassin circled, slowly, and approached the wrapped canvases. He pushed the fabric cover away with the tip of his blade and examined the two works of art.
“What is this?” he asked, pointing his sword at the second canvas. “Should I know it?”
She almost scoffed, but held her breath at the last moment. Uncultured twit. Did he spend so much time running on rooftops and playing with knives that he didn’t know perfection when he saw it?
“That’s a Simoni,” she said incredulously. “Just a study, but it was deemed important enough to hang in Lucrezia’s private solar.”
[Bonds Unbroken 4/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-06-15 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)“Leonardo is concerned with art and artists,” the assassin said in a quiet, dangerous voice that prickled the back of her neck. “I am concerned with murderers and thieves.”
“I’m neither,” she insisted. She heard him vent a quick, cynical laugh. “I... I might have stolen from your friend, but I’ve returned what I took and with interest. That study is worth a fortune.”
“I’m not interested in money.”
“I am.” Ottavia carefully lowered her arms, finding they had begun to ache. “You probably came here expecting a trap...”
“Is it springing now?”
“No, there’s no trap.” Ottavia pulled back her shoulders, grasping for courage. “I need your help. My family’s vault is well-protected. The mechanisms locking the underground gate cannot be opened without a second person.”
“And why would I be interested in stealing from your family?” He planted his feet, his sword lifting as if to signal a duel. “Have they wronged me?”
“They support the Borgia,” she replied, hearing her voice quaver with fear. “Look, I stole from Lucrezia as an act of good faith. Her family disgusts me. I want them dead. Cesare most of all... But even if I killed him, that would not repair the damage he has done.”
“This is personal.” It was an observation, not a question. His sword lowered just a hair. Ottavia’s hopes soared. She had come expecting disappointment, but now it seemed as if he might at least her her out.
The assassin knelt, his white cloak and tunic pooling around his boots. He stacked the canvases and swathed them in the cloth again. When he stood, she saw the faintest smile flash beneath his hood.
“Tell me more.”
When they at last found the vault entrance, Ottavia paused to catch her breath. They had waded through miles of chill swamp water, the stench almost as horrible as the mysterious squelching in her boots. She had told him the reason behind her asking for his help and the history that had convinced her to abandon her family, despite their wealth and position.
They rested against the raised stone pilings that guarded the gated entrance. He had worn black, though a bright red sash glinted like a wound around his middle. The assassin hardly spoke, but Ottavia could feel him listening. He was good at it.
“He promised her the world,” Ottavia said, sucking down another breath. Her legs burned from walking through the thick, heavy bog water. “Marriage, honor... And now she has nothing - disgraced and reviled for doing what? For trusting?”
[Bonds Unbroken 5/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-06-15 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)“Many men are faithless, but they do not spread rumors and destroy a good, kind woman out of sheer boredom. He did it only to amuse himself. He has no idea what it cost Cosima.”
“I’m certain he doesn’t care.” The assassin frowned, peering up at the stone arch rising above the pilings. Moss and muck covered the ancient archway. Ezio wiped his sleeve across the stone face, revealing the coat of arms carved into the granite. His expression evened, his eyes unreadable as he turned toward her and murmured, “The eel and flower of Orsini.” His gaze narrowed. “You are that Ottavia?”
“What does it matter?” Ottavia pushed forward, the water rising to her waist as she ducked below the archway. “The gate is through here. There is a twin-barred mechanism. It cannot be raised with one set of hands alone - ”
The man caught her arm and gave a tug that spun her around. Ottavia gasped and tried to wriggle free. Even in the darkness she could see the intensity of his amber eyes.
“This is no game, little Orsini. If we are caught, if you are implicated... Your family will never take you back. This is betrayal, nothing less.”
“Would you rather the fortune inside went to the Borgia? It could pay for troops, armor, horses, cannons, cannons that will fire on your men. On you. Or would you prefer those arms and armor went to your soldiers?” Ottavia pried her arm away, backing into the iron bars protecting the vault entrance. “I abandoned my family’s trust the moment they promised their allegiance to rapists and murderers. I am one woman, I cannot dismantle the Borgia, but I can see that this gold never reaches their coffers. It will go to Cosima, to her escape. She deserves better than the cold comfort of a convent.”
Ezio waded up to her, the water swishing quietly around his legs and belt. Ottavia shivered, the damp of the water seeping through to her very bones. She stared up at him, wondering what exactly was happening behind those golden eyes. Then he took her by the chin, turning her face slowly back and forth. His fingertips were hard, calloused to the point where they felt not like human skin but leather. And they were warm, scarred, the nails broken from scaling walls and roofs. He could school his face into a mask of nothingness, but his hand told the vivid story of what his expression would not.
“Your story is moving,” he said gently, releasing her chin. “But is it true?”
Ottavia nodded toward the unlit sconce next to her left shoulder. “Help me get inside this vault and you’ll have all the truth you can stomach.”
Not!op
(Anonymous) 2011-07-16 07:30 am (UTC)(link)Re: [Bonds Unbroken 5/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-08-07 05:41 am (UTC)(link)