asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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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
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Part 3
Part 4
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OH MY FUCKING GOD I NEED THIS SO HARD

You are not the only one thinking about this.
I want this.
+ ∞

want this with clay so bad omfg thirded

hello an interested A!A here i might just do this but im way too tired tonight my mother did not fill my pills bleh

Charles is sooo deliciously evil in a spectacularly...intriguing way. Absolutely loving the smaller games that Charles is playing to keep Connor off-balance. Giving the wrong time just to spring on Connor as he's about to leave--brilliant. The subtle derision from the maid--very good. Everything to keep Connor as isolated and in no position to make an escape attempt before he's broken.

Makes me wonder if Charles will also apply dog-training techniques, given his expertise with the pomeranians (it's awesome that you included his love of dogs here!).

(Time for a fic where people actually have seconds thoughts about homosexual relationships, because of the time and it's morals they are living in and with.)

Malik knows for some time now that he is in love with Altair, and thinks the other assassin might feel the same. But when he confronts Altair with it (Maybe surprise kissing? I like something like that.), Altair is shocked and confused and pushes him away.
Happy end is optional, but either way I want a heartbreaking fic, where Malik is angry at Altair for avoiding him, but at the same time he loves him just so incredible much.

Bonus points if Altair does have feelings for Malik, though, but struggles with accepting them.

Yeah, I sure made Charles a bastard in this - and he just keeps getting worse each time I write him ^^; I wonder how Connor manages to keep his sanity through 20 years of this. Of course I had to include the dogs, ever read Shaun's commentary on them in the Animus?

Missed the commentary, but saw the character drawing of him (the dogs are soooo cute) and read about how the real Charles Lee loved his pomeranian to bits. Charles Lee has always had a very interesting dichotomy in ACIII for me. He's capable of incredibly rude, annoying and almost outright heinous acts (choking a 4-5 year old boy for absolutely no real reason, his entire attitude for most of the game), but also of amazingly adorable and sweet acts (first meeting with Haytham, his expression and suffering at Haytham's funeral...and the cuteness of his character drawing with the pomeranians). He's at least a character as complex as Haytham, imo, just a lot more subtle about it and with a whole lot less screen time.

I see Connor surviving 20 years of abuse with Charles mostly by adapting himself (and Haytham Lee). Connor, in the game, has always seemed to me to be very straightforward, somewhat innocent but with moments of amazing foresight and clarity. His snark at Sam Adams about the irony of men fighting for freedom owning slaves hinted at this (even if he backed off that train of thought) and his offer to the Homesteaders to stay on Davenport land always seemed both kind and shrewd.

As Charles's forced spouse/captive, Connor is removed from his traditional weapons (hidden blade, tomahawk, network of friends and contacts, position as a trusted comrade/advisor/etc. to the Sons of Liberty, even stealth) and therefore must engage his lesser used weapons of that keen foresight, shrewdness and even his business acumen. In his circumstance, those are the weapons that will allow him to know when to push Charles in the future for a small victory here, a small victory there and, perhaps more importantly, when to back off. Currently, those weapons are rusty, with relatively little use compared to his opponent. But Charles will get used to having the upper hand and will grow complacent, while Connor will only learn more and more about how to make his cage more bearable and how to pick at the lock that bars his escape.

Haytham Lee also plays a large part in his sanity. Charles isolated Connor and took away all his former tools, weapons and contacts. Somehow or other, Charles did not deign to separate 'mother' and son (really his most fatal mistake), and so Haytham Lee is that other source of comfort, of support and expression.

Ultimately, Connor forged a close bond with his son and was able to use 'small' victories (such as suggesting Haytham Lee's placement as recruit trainer and correspondence handler) to put the only person who he felt actually cared about him and his ideals into a position of influence. He probably wasn't expecting Haytham Lee to arrange things so that Charles and the top-ranking Templars all got exposed to a deadly disease and die and then perform a coup d'etat, turning the younger Templars into Assassins...

:)

Although...methinks I have watched too many Asian historical dramas...

Fair warning: this is probably terrible. I have no experience with writing femslash, but I think a fill, even mediocre, is better than none. Someone else, please fill this!

Sorry, they kept their names even if it makes no sense. I spend way too much time trying to find a female Arabic name that sounded similar to Haytham and meant something relevant.

_____________

"Hey, sweetheart! You should ditch your friend and join us. I’ll show you a good time."

Charles should probably stop being offended on Haytham’s behalf every time a drunkard makes a pass at her, but she can’t. It seems ridiculous to her that those idiots mistake Mistress Kenway for a woman of loose morals. Charles knows it wouldn’t be this bad if the two of them travelled with their male companions, but neither Charles nor Haytham will abase themselves so far as to demand protection. Hickey would never let her forget it. Worse, he might take it for encouragement and try to "escort" her to bed, a fate Charles will do everything she can to evade. If she persists, he will understand that she is not interested. Someday, surely, he will.

Haytham ignores him, as she always does. Better men have tried to seduce her, have offered gifts, recited poetry and declared their love. They have proposed marriage, promised power and money. She could not care less. She has no lover, no hated fiancé waiting for her, no expectant parents. She is the Grandmaster of the Order, nothing more, nothing less. Anyone else would find such isolation oppressing, but Haytham seems to revel in solitude. A natural beauty gifted with remarkable charisma, she could have anyone she wanted, but she spends every night alone. Charles will respect that choice, even if it seems like such a waste.

"We should stop visiting this establishment. The clientele is subpar, present company excepted, of course."

"At least their taste cannot be faulted." Silence. Charles can’t believe she let that personal reflection out. Haytham just expressed her disgust for those who try to have her, and what does Charles do? She flirts with her. She should apologize, tell her she meant nothing by it, but she’s mortified and can’t find the words.

"I already paid for our stay, so we won’t leave tonight, but do try to remember to choose somewhere else next time."

Haytham is not offended. Charles did not destroy everything she worked for. Thank God.

"Well, it is late enough. It might be better for us to go to our quarters."

"You’re right, my lady. Let’s go."

Haytham throws a look around, surveying drunken fools and untrustworthy individuals of all kinds. "Maybe I’ll miss them. There’s life here, unlike upstairs. One can feel lonely, entrapped in those small rooms

That’s unusual. "If you say so, Mistress Kenway."

She turns to stare at her. "You’re never lonely, Charles? Oh, I forgot, you have Thomas to keep you company."

Charles groans. "Please, do not tease me about him. The fool can’t seem to understand the meaning of "no". Can’t you talk to him? He’d have to listen to you."

"You’re a big girl, Charles, you should be able to take care of yourself. If you can’t, thought, Thomas will still be here. It is nice to be taken care of by others sometimes. Surely it is reassuring to know there is someone who would hold you during chilly nights. Winter can be harsh here. Nothing replaces human warmth."

Charles fears she has no idea where this conversation is going, but if they are going to continue talking about Hickey, she might as well go to sleep. It’s a better use of her time. "I believe I am quite tired, my lady. I shall retire to my room."

" Charles! You’d leave me alone, to spend the night in a cold bed?"

Charles can’t quite believe her ears. They didn’t drink. She doesn’t feel unwell. Everything seems normal, and yet, it seems to her that Haytham wants her… to join her in her bed? Just the idea is scandalous, but nothing has made Charles react this strongly before. She knows she’s flushing. She feels overheated, arousal conquering her. How to answer? She can’t say no to such an offer, if it really is one. She’ll take her chance. If it goes somewhere, it will have been worth it.

"If you want me by your side, then this is where I will be." Charles takes a deep breath and reaches for Haytham’s hand.

She doesn’t pull away.

"Let’s go."

_________________

Once they are in Haytham’s room, Charles tries not to let the awkwardness overwhelm her. She still holds Haytham’s hand, warm against hers.

Haytham is staring at her. Her gaze is closed off, unreadable.

This is unbearable. Charles breaks, prays that she didn’t misinterpret Haytham’s intention, and kisses her. Her lips are soft. They stay closed. Charles worries. After a small eternity, they open. Her heart starts beating again. Charles deepens the kiss. She allows her hand to cradle Haytham’s head, the other to circle her waist. Haytham softens against her and embrace her back. Charles has to say something. She has to be sure. "I never you wanted… this."

Haytham snorts. "I ignored everyone else. Did you think me without desire? I’m only human, Charles, not some remote goddess. I have needs like everyone else."

Charles doesn’t think Haytham would be impressed if she told her that for Charles, she might as well be.

"Let’s take care of those, then, if I am suitable." They kiss again. Charles thinks she could do this forever.

It feels very daring to undo the laces holding Haytham’s bodice, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She sighs, helps Charles until she is gloriously naked, sitting on the bed and, well, disrobing Charles with her eyes. Charles blushes. Her body could never compare to Haytham’s. There is not an ounce of fat on her. She is slim, her muscles sculpted by the skills she was forced to learn when she was an Assassin, and yet no one could mistake her for a man. She has firm breasts, of a respectable size, nicely rounded hip, and long legs.

Charles undresses, quite conscious of her small body. She isn’t ugly, but nature has made her frail. She’s short and thin, with slim hips and a disproportionally huge bosom, an appearance that attract the attention of untoward men, who are always destabilized when they realize she’s not the meek flower she looks like. Her parents wanted her to be a real lady, so she didn’t exercise much. Now that she is working with the Order, maybe she will become healthier, but for now she’s rather flabby.

She submits herself to Haytham’s stare. She seems to find her adequate, because she grabs Charles’ arm and pulls her on the bed.

Charles gets to taste Haytham again, and again. She marks the skin on the side of her neck, caresses her sides, teases her thighs open. Haytham is happy to let Charles takes control and discover her body. Charles herself is satisfied to worship her as she should be. She lowers her head to her breast and mouths the nipple. Haytham arches into her and moans. Charles turns his attention to her other breast as her fingers find their way between Haytham’s legs. She’s already wet, which is gratifying. Gently, she strokes her sex. Haytham lets out a cry that Charles will definitively hear in her dreams later.

She resists the impulse to touch herself. This is all about Haytham. Her pleasure doesn’t matter right now. She kisses Haytham’s stomach, slowly sliding lower. She slides a finger inside. Haytham starts begging, asking for more, now, please. Charles’ mouth reaches her sex. Her tongue licks her as she add more fingers. Charles hears her name in between pleas for her to push harder and deeper. She obeys. A few seconds later, Haytham tenses and comes, letting out a wordless cry of pleasure.

Haytham really is stronger than she is. Charles isn’t over the awe she feels at seeing Haytham reach completion because of her touch when she is pushed down the bed and kissed senseless. Haytham apparently is more dominant after pleasure. It takes no time for Haytham’s fingers to push into Charles. They enter easily; Charles has never been this ready before. This won’t take long. Haytham starts murmuring in her ear. "You were magnificent. I want to see you shatter just like I just did. I want to hear you say my name as you do, beg me for more, tell me you’re only mine as I fill you." It’s too much. She does scream Haytham’s name.

Charles tries to get her breath back. She plasters herself against Haytham as she does. Haytham looks at her.

"You did ask me to keep you company."

Haytham’s arms circle her. "Don’t you dare think about leaving."

Charles strokes Haytham’s locks away from her face. "I would never. I’ll be here as long as you want me to."

"Good."

Charles pulls the covers over them, kisses Haytham for the last time (tonight) and closes her eyes.

Ahhh ... I really, really, want to read your take on the 20 year gap. Just to see how the family interacts with each other. Sadly, I don't know when I'll finish the Honey Moon story since it ran away from me and turned into a multi-chapter fic rather than a one-shot.

lol. ^^ I know the feeling. But this is good! Your fic really fleshes out Charles and Connor and brings them to life as people. It's really brilliant reading it. :)

...but yeah...maybe I'll begin at a safer point so I can start the 20 year gap earlier. :) Just hesitant about starting before Honeymoon is over in case of inconsistencies.

Yeah, that's actually a good idea... and I'll be sure to work in those 'pet obedience' lessons in the next smut scene. Oh, Connor, why am I doing this to you???

BTW Next chapter is almost finished.

So we've had loads of prompts on this meme where Connor is the submissive partner in sex. Let's switch things up a bit! I mean, this is Connor we're talking about, the man who can kill twenty men with his bare hands.

I want to see Connor and a male suitor (my preference is Haytham, but Washington is fine too), getting ready to have sex for the first time. They're expecting Connor to be highly inexperienced in bed, basically an awkward and shy, blushing virgin who needs to be guided through sex...

Only for Connor to get on top the moment they get into bed and assert his dominance in the sexiest way possible, by pounding his partner into the mattress. And whoever Connor's partner is LOVES IT.

Please anons? <^.^>

Ooohhh can't wait to read. :D

Giovanni has to be my favorite character in the AC games, aside from the main protags and a few side characters, simply because he stands out. He manages the art of being an assassin and being a father without letting anyone sans his wife know what he is. Now that, ladies and gents, takes dedication.

So I need a h/c fluff fic that involves the two coming together. You know in the game, how Giovanni is hung before he can tell Ezio how to be an assassin. He gives him his cloak and his dagger, but not the lessons that undoubtedly would have come if he were alive. The wiki reports he was training Federico in the arts (secretly of course) and was fixing to get to Ezio before he died.

So! We're going to turn back the clock and prevent the hanging that gets in the way of all that fluff. Here's the situation. Ezio's Eagle Vision comes in his early teens, rather than from birth. In my mind, receiving the Eagle Vision is a very terrifying thing because of the amount of pain and suffering involve. Hallucinations, headaches, extreme sensitivity to light, full-body fever, you name it. Ezio hits his fourteenth birthday and is suddenly in a lot of pain, and Gio is away on business. Maria calls him back, citing that Ezio's "time" has come, and Gio freeruns his ass as fast as he can back home to his distraught child, who has no idea the story he's in for. Ezio's early receiving of the EV gives Gio more time to train him on how to be an assassin, which means that when Gio and his brothers are made to hang, Ezio has more than enough exp. to save them.

Basically: Ezio gets his Eagle Vision, and learns about what his family does from Gio. Ezio is trained by Gio and manages to save his father and brothers from being hung.

Also, bonus points if older brother Federico is the one who discovers Ezio's pain and subsequently panics because he wants to take care of Ezio but doesn't know how. More points if he's there for the explanation about their assassin heritage and knows more than he lets on.

So far, dinner was a silent event. Well for Connor's part, anyway. He tried to focus on the large meal in front of him, after all he had been quite hungry; but knowing that he was on par with (if not lower) the General's dogs, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Charles clearly enjoyed the sound of his own voice, along with the reactions he could get out of the still willful Omega with the inappropriate touches under the dining room table.

The Assassin didn't even hear half of what his mortal enemy was saying - something about new acquisitions - as a gloved hand rubbed distractingly up and down his thigh. He had to duck his head many times to hide his flushed face when servants would enter between courses. Connor had attempted to shake the limb off, only to wince and gasp in pain as fingers clawed deep into his leg. All the while, his assailant continued speaking without a hitch.

"Going over your ledger this morning, I must say that I'm actually impressed," Charles remarked as he finally withdrew his hand from underneath the table. "I had no idea you were quite the entrepreneur. All those acres of land in your name, the wealth that you've accumulated from its resources; in addition to the bounty from the Aquila's privateer contracts, is quite astounding. You have no idea how much I appreciate such a generous contribution to the Order."

Connor glared darkly at his mate. The thought of the Templars desecrating the Manor at the Homestead with their presence - sifting through both his and Achilles' belongs- unnerved him to no end. However, the idea of his enemies stealing all that he and many others had worked for made him absolutely livid. How dare they!

"What do you mean by that, Lee?" he demanded furiously "The land belonged to Achilles, and all the assets you mentioned will remain with the Davenport Homestead residents."

Charles' raised an eyebrow while taking a sip of his wine. "You honestly didn't know? The sentimental old fool had a will, Connor. It is a legal document, declaring you and your chosen mate are to be the beneficiaries of his property and fortune."

For a long moment, the half-native Assassin was stunned into silence. He knew his mentor had cared for him like a parent. The old man named him after his own deceased son, trained and educated him to become an Assassin, stood beside him in place of a father during the wedding ceremony. But for Achilles to give him everything...

"I..." he began, voice wavering slightly as he slammed his hands down onto the table, "I did not choose you!"

The Templar only raised an eyebrow at the fierce scowl thrown his way. Connor would have liked to thrown much more than that, such his plate, or better yet the silverware; but he cannot. His loathsome mate is just waiting for an excuse to spill more innocent blood.

"Oh but you did, honey," Charles says with a cruel smile. The endearment makes Connor flinch and shudder from the memory of their first time. "You chose me as your Alpha, in front of all those lovely people who are currently safe and living on our land. We are recognized as husband and wife both by church and law, the latter of course is more important."

When Lee produced a marriage license, Connor felt his stomach drop down to the floor. He did not know how the Templar acquired one so quickly. Charles must have planned this right after the failed execution. Both his and Washington's. The latter was still in danger, he had to remind himself yet again.

"Furthermore, Connor, you will address me as your husband. Calling me by our surname is no longer acceptable," the Alpha informed him, dabbing his mouth before pushing back his seat before standing. "I'm afraid you'll have to dine alone for the last course, I need to return to my study. But, you will join me there for afternoon tea at four-thirty. Understood?"

The Assassin glared back at him, but the older man waited for a verbal response.

"Four-thirty? Not five, Charles?" Connor hissed his husband's name back like it was an obscenity.

"Four-thirty," the said Templar confirmed. "If you're incapable of telling time, I can have a servant escort you."

"I am sure I can manage."

Connor did not dare take his eyes off the other for a moment. Not even when the Alpha approached him, placing his hands upon the chair's armrests while leaning forward. He tensed, leaning his head back in a futile effort to escape the hungry and possessive kiss. There was no affection in it, of course. Merely a reminder of their roles as master and slave, instead of husband and wife.

"Enjoy your dessert, sweetheart," Charles purred lowly into his ear before nipping at the lobe. "I will take pleasure in mine, later."

To his credit, the Omega remained perfectly as lips descended to their favorite spot upon his throat, and made it redder than before. It was only a few minutes after the older man departed, did Connor finally allow himself to move. He slumped forward in his chair, and buried his face into shaking hands.

You, OP, just made me wibble from this prompt alone. I absolutely love fix-it-fic, and wish I could do this justice.

Someone plz fill to make me wibble more?? *puppyeyes*

Warnings: basically same as Bloody but Unbowed + miscarriage

Pairings: Charles/Connor, Haytham/Charles (onesided), implied Washington/Connor

Master of the House, prologue

Building an empire, a kingdom, an Order was like building a home. Loyalty needed to be gained. Bonds carefully crafted. Threats neutralized. Most importantly, the king of the estate, the lord of the manor had to have a full understanding of the complex web of relationships that spans his kingdom.

Charles Lee was not too proud a man to admit that while he is master of the first, the second has somehow eluded him. He was a decorated commander who won the war against England and ended the so-called tyranny of King George, soon-to-be Grandmaster of the Colonial Templars, and an overwhelmingly popular celebrity that was very likely to be named the new King of the Colonies.

He still did not have his heir.

It wasn’t as if his wife was not fertile. Connor had been impregnated soon after their wedding, possibly even that very first time Charles had forced his legs apart. But despite all of Charles’s training during that week of their honeymoon, despite all of Charles’s efforts, Connor remained closed to the idea of their union and his place within it. He had not willingly slept with Charles even once, though many seasons have passed since Charles first seized him.

Charles would not care except that Connor had been despondent and listless during the pregnancy. No matter the threat, the man had barely eaten or drunk, imbibing just enough to keep both himself and their child alive, as was their agreement in exchange for Washington’s continued existence.

Washington had died due to age, guilt and grief seven months in. Connor had miscarried a couple of days later.

His firstborn would have been a son, a son with wispy hair and the promise of Charles’s features.

Charles stood above the cheering masses of Boston, waving to the exuberant crowd as they strained to get a glimpse of the man who had led them to victory and driven out King George’s men. He forced a smile on his lips and the crowd crested into an ecstatic chant of his name. Would that getting an heir be as easy as manipulating the foolish, gullible masses.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the new Templar doctor beckoning to him. Graciously, he bowed to the crowd and withdrew from the public. He stepped through to his townhouse and silently followed the doctor to a private room away from prying eyes and ears.

“How is he?” Charles surprised himself by asking.

The doctor, Matthew Davies, heaved a tired a sigh and answered his question with another question. “Are you sure he must bear your heir, sir?”

Charles grimaced but reluctantly nodded.

“Then you’ll need to temper your approach. You’ve cut him off from all ties, sir,” Matthew forestalled his complaints. “You’ve isolated him and deliberately kept the household as hostile as possible to him. You’ve kept him from news of his friends and made sure the only person he could rely upon was you. But he found out about Washington’s death. And he’s surrendered himself to despair.”

Charles scoffed. “I need him to bear me a son, an heir. As long as he is physically—“

Matthew interrupted. “An Omega birth is a difficult thing. Sir,” almost like an afterthought. “To successfully birth a child, a male Omega needs to fight and take care of himself. An Omega who is miserable, has absolutely no emotional support and, to be frank, has lost everything and gained nothing has no desire to fight. At this rate, your little half-Native will keeping on losing the sons you give him until he himself succumbs.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes.”

Matthew paused, suddenly hesitant and unsure. “You should know, sir…” he trailed off, uncertain.

“Yes?”

A deep breath, the gathering of courage and nerves.

“He’s pregnant again.”

Charles was not a man who liked to change his thoughts, actions or habits. He was a British gentleman of the old sort (even if he could never admit it again in this new world) and liked his set schedules and his order and doing things his way. But Charles also had made many, many mistakes in his life and had many regrets. He was determined that this child not be the next one.

Have I mentioned how deliciously and calculatingly evil your Charles is? I love it so much! The Davenport assets was a brilliant stroke. What a blow to Connor! To have all that he worked for, saved for, to be given to Charles...

Phase 1 - completely drag the rug from underneath Connor's feet - going at warp speed!

btw, you have an amazing update schedule. I don't think I've ever seen anyone update as fast as you...Kudos! :)

YES PLEASE

Augh, I absolutely LOVE this idea. Such a good fix-it idea.

Thank you for the kind comments! I hope you'll like the next part, too. :)

-

Access granted.

Daniel blinked at the screen and almost spilled the coke he was drinking over his hoodie. That was the – fuck, who knew? Three thousandth name on this godforsaken list, but apparently he had finally hacked the Abstergo system. ‘Hacked’ in the broadest sense of the word, of course. He couldn’t search his ancestors for information on that, what with computers still being room-sized monstrosities when Daniel had been born. Besides, it was not like these ghosts in his head had ever showed him what he needed to see without enough drugs to knock out a horse.

In truth, Daniel had just stolen a printout of set-to-purge account data from a tech guy’s desk and tried out every single one, all belonging to dead and removed employees, until he found one that hadn’t been deleted yet. Dear Delphine Briant. She was probably dead in a ditch somewhere.

Abstergo wanted him to do a good job. Well, if they couldn’t find Desmond Miles, he’d make sure he would. Because that kid had tricked him in Manhatten and knocked him clean out in Brazil and Daniel was about done playing grabass with him. It was personal now.

Daniel clicked through the folders that his new authorization enabled him to open. Much of it was useless, internal organisation stuff. While he might be too impatient to wait for Vidic’s as usual opaque schemes to come to fruition and tell him where to meet Desmond next, he did trust that he knew all he needed to know on the management side of things.

Somewhere deep in a directory, there was an unmarked map. He clicked that, too.

17 subfolders were displayed before him, labelled with numbers.

He chose Subject 17 because that was what he’d come for, pulling up the data. Pictures of Desmond emerged. He was in a dress shirt and tie combination, black jeans, black shoes, warming his hands on a plastic cup as he stood outside the staff kitchen door of some club or restaurant. Used to be a bartender, Daniel remembered from an earlier briefing. Another one in which he sat in the bus, hoodie drawn in his face. The next showed a picture by the security camera in the Italian Abstergo facility, Desmond on his side, fast asleep.

Daniel stared at the picture. If he was completely honest, he could admit he had a sort of grudging respect for this guy. He was... Daniel checked the birthdate. 13 March 1987. Yeah, lots younger than him, but you wouldn’t know from the way he fought. It was difficult to expect he was any good at it at all, though. That was how Desmond had managed to trump him that first time. He had the most peaceful brown eyes and a face that seemed to default to an open, searching look.

However, when he lifted his fists and unsheathed his blade, it was like a switch had been flicked. His movements were controlled, precise, concentrated, his gaze focused. Of course, those weren’t his own skills, this was what the Assassins had carved into their little puppet’s brain via the Animus. In Daniel’s eyes, though, that made it more of an achievement. He’d heard other Templar operatives talking, men who knew half-truths and rumours, joking how they sure wished they could exchange years of training for a few weeks of dozing in a chair.

These men knew shit. Daniel knew. He knew what it was like when half a dozen people were trying to superimpose their own reflexes, their own weaknesses, their strengths, their habits onto you when you were fighting. He knew what it was like to feel their rage and their sadness and when they pulled you into their maelstrom of despair with not even a reason to ground yourself with. Desmond brought all that together into something efficient and Daniel knew, he could feel it, every day, that it would have been so much easier to just give in to that chaos that bubbled right under your skin. How could he not admire it?

Daniel closed the images. To his frustration, there was nothing useful to his purpose in the folder, all just old data up to Desmond’s escape. However, just when he was about to shut down the machine, he found his curiosity grow. Subject 16. He’d heard about him. An assassin plant. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to see how the Animus had worked on these others...

Ballpoint pen. What a way to go.

An hour later, Daniel had worked his way through the reports of Subjects 16 to 5. The further down he went, the more crude the methods described were. But no matter how far the Animus advanced, no matter if the subject was willing or unwilling, Assassin, Templar or civilian, the final result was always the same.

So the first thing that drew his attention on Subject 4’s file was that there was no death date.

Then he looked at the picture. A young boy with blond hair, face round, looking to the left upper corner, as if he wasn’t even aware he was being photographed. A hand rested heavy on his shoulder. His eyes were bright blue like shards of ice.

Daniel didn’t remember much from before his twelfth birthday. But after a second, he recognised his own face.

Daniel checked the birth date, too. He found out that apparently he was not ‘about fourty’. He was exactly four days and thirteen years Desmond Miles’ senior.

His hand was surprisingly calm as he scrolled downwards.

Date of discovery by Lineage Discovery and Acquisition: 26 Decembre 1982
Date of liberation by Team Beta.7a: 15 February 1984

Mission Report:
Elimination went successful despite minor hiccups. Male (46) and Female (48) were taken out with gunshots while asleep in their bed, but we were not previously informed about presence of Male (16). Male (16) was woken by the noise and took Target S4 from his room. They were out through the backdoor when our team caught up. Elimination was then eased by Male (16) positioning himself between S4 and the team as he urged S4 to flee, giving us a free shot. S4 attempted to return to Corpse C and was hit with a tranquiliser dart and subsequently collected. No immediate police involvement despite noise levels (secluded place). Pik 4 and Karo 9 staid behind to prepare robbery scene.

Total collateral damage:
Male (46)
Female (48)
Male (16)
Note Yamaguchi: I have no idea where the communication breakdown was re: Male (16), we’re going over that in the meeting. Props to the team for reacting quickly. No further relatives have been uncovered by LDaA. There should be no trouble keeping S4.

Daniel closed his eyes and prayed, begged, pleaded his brain to give him an image – an image of Male (16). Corpse C. The boy who’d tried to save his life.

There was nothing. Of course.

Years and years of all this goddamn Russian garbage, but not a single solitary trace of his big brother. (Cousin? Late-comer baby uncle? There had been a family, he’d been part of a family, he would have known these things.)

He scrolled past large columns of numbers he couldn’t make sense of, halting at passages of text.

S4 has been kept sedated. His vitals are stable and he is taking to the Animus sessions with rapidity. Trauma of insertion and various operations might cause long-term memory loss and instability between core memory lines. However, since S4’s body withstands the chemical rush – unlike S2 –, no further adjustments will be necessary.
Note Vidic: This is astonishing. S2 was a grown man and couldn’t deal with the trauma. S3’s memory became a completely inaccessible jumble. S4’s potential at this point seems almost unlimited.

Daniel remembered just a year or two ago, Vidic pulling him into his arms in front of a whole room full of bigshot Templars, telling him he was proud of him.

The last note on the page was supplied by the lead scientist himself.

Note Vidic: It was fortunate S4’s programming extended so far. I had not quite hoped for it. To have him back among us with his information and skill – he is a great asset. I’m sure after the disappointment that was S12 we can all use these news.

Something was scrawling and scratching the inner side of his skull like spider's legs as he went back up to look at the description of his – liberation. Nikolai with Innokenti in his arms, his wife and daughter lost in the night, his heart beating against his ribs like it wanted to break them and Anna and Nadya were gone, what would he-

But Daniel pushed him out, out, out, fuck off, go, because this was his life, it was his own life he was looking at, not Nikolai’s, for once not Nikolai or Innokenti or any of the other people who tried to upstage him in his own head, they didn’t matter now.

He was Subject 4.

When Daniel left the room, the screen had been smashed with the bottle of coke and the computer casing laid broken on the ground, wiring spilling out like guts. The table was toppled. No one would wonder. No one would dare complain. They all knew poor Daniel was a bit touched in the head.

All his years – all of them he could fucking remember, at least, so roughly three quarters – Daniel had wondered what it might be to have that. A family. He thought he had found it in the Templars. Yes, they had used him and of course he had to work for their approval, the care they gave was hardly unconditional. However, it was better than most he could have hoped for, being a man who had already fulfilled his alloted purpose in life and was left stranded with the Mentor’s corpse in his lap after that.

Daniel stormed down the hallway, cursing in Russian. He wanted to kill Vidic, right then, right now. All that blood he’d spilled in the name of the Templars, he would add to this flood. It would hardly matter at all. If he’d had a soul at some point, the Animus ate it long ago and defragmented it into bits.

But that would be much too easy now... No. No. Killing Vidic was like removing one leg from a centipede. No. He took a deep breath and another one. No, no. Niet. He had to think. Templars cared nothing about individual lives. The goals where what mattered. He’d have to fuck with their precious plans to get at them. Then, he’d always have time to slit Vidic’s throat.

Daniel stood and took a deep breath.

If he wanted to cause mayhem, he needed the help of the Templars’ enemies. If he wanted to cause panic, he needed what was most precious to Vidic right now. This all came down to him getting his hands on one thing: Subject 17. Until he got that chance, he’d have to pretend he didn’t want to crush every skull sitting atop a shirt that was adorned with the Abstergo pyramid.

It would be risky. He might end up dead. For once, though, Daniel realised, he was wandering a path not surrounded by the invisible walls erected by the Animus in his child mind. The satisfaction was enough to still his hand – for now.

-

Goshdarn I keep playing as the red coat and during wolf pack there's always an Independent who wins the top assist, and it's me being helped! It's hard for me to say I don't ship them. I'll be forever grateful for anything with these two kick ass ambitious ladies! Some potential scenarios might be:

- They need to share a haystack in order to both get points for killing the same target.
- Both blending while going after the same target, or one after the other and playing with their prey. (which ends up with a target lost)
- Right out usage of a different poison or even something similar to Avelines whip.

My first request on the link meme. Would love something!

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Page 170 of 385

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: This is not where we fell asleep - Haytham/Ziio

Re: Kadar/Haytham????

Re: Amnesia crossover

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FILL: women do it better

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Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 6/?

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Daniel/Desmond: Free Falling (2/?)

Daniel/Desmond: Free Falling (3/?)

Independent/Red coat AC3MP