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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✩ 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
Part 2
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Part 4
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Thanks so much, anon! I've been trawling the kmeme looking for conhayth and there are so many unfilled prompts so I thought I should add a fill of my own.

Glad you enjoyed it! :3

Thank you! :D

Ominous foreshadowing, writeanon. Very ominous...No, Desmond! Don't go charging into battle! D: (Shaun, you better be on your toes to keep Des from getting captured!)

Somehow I get the feeling that Des should've also had access to those journals, now. (Probably gonna bite the Moderns in the ass later, huh?)

A week later Charles finds himself at the docks waiting for Haytham's ship to dock. He surprises even himself when he manages to keep relatively calm as he waits, opting to let Spado embody his excitement as he ran around Charles's feet.

Charles liked to think himself a patient man-- one of the few stereotypical Omega traits that he could stand-- but waiting was proving to be a harder task than he would have liked. It isn't as though Charles had somewhere else to be. In fact, Charles specifically left his schedule completely open so that he might be available whenever Haytham might need him. Still, he was eager to meet the man he admired above all else and every second felt like an hour.

By the time Haytham's ship nears the docks, Charles has to make a conscious effort not to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. Soon. Soon he would get to meet the man he's admired for years now. Soon he'd be able to stop worrying that Braddock would find some way to end the assignment before it ever really began. Soon, perhaps, he'd be able to impress Haytham so much that a marriage would be unnecessary for his admission into the Templars. It's this last one he hopes for the most. Perhaps at one point Braddock would have outranked Haytham within the Templar Order, but not now. As of late, Braddock has grown distant, putting more of a focus on his military work than anything that would truly further the Order's goals. No doubt, one thing everyone is likely hoping to come from the marriage is a renewed sense of loyalty to the Order in Braddock. It's no secret to anyone how much Charles wants a spot among their ranks and his loyalty is even less of a secret. Likely, they're hoping some of Charles's enthusiasm will rub off on the general.

Charles doubts that there's any possibility of that. What's more likely, is that Braddock will grow more and more distant until he demands that even Charles surrender whatever position he might be given and what could he do to fight it? He's heard stories of the difficulty Omegas have resisting their Alphas. It's one of Charles's greatest fears that once their bound, he won't have a chance of resisting Braddock and then what will he do? Everything he's spent his life dreaming about, everything he's worked for could be-- no, would be taken from him the moment Braddock found it to be an inconvenience.

Vaguely, Charles feels something small press against his leg and he looks down to see Spado pressing his nose against his leg, almost looking worried about his master. Charles bends to scratch the little dog behind his ears and gives a small smile. He has to impress Haytham enough to be able to break this engagement off and join the Order for his own talents and not for his husband. And if not for his place in the Order, than for Spado. Braddock hates Charles's little boy. There's no way he'd allow Charles to keep him once they're married and mated and the thought of separating from Spado sends a fear through Charles that he didn't think was possible. He wraps his arms around the dog and brings him closer. He'll never part with Spado if he can help it.

As Charles straightens he looks back to where Haytham's ship docked, immediately noticing the very noble looking man walking off. There. That must be him. The sight of him causes Charles breath to catch in his throat and he hesitates before walking up. He'd heard descriptions of Haytham before, but he'd been unprepared for just how handsome the man truly is and Charles had to remind himself that for now, he is engaged to a very jealous man. Best not to dwell on thoughts of how handsome Haytham is until he's out of Braddock's grasp.

"Master Kenway! Master Kenway!"

"Yes, may I help you?"

Charles doesn't think about it before be leans over to take Haytham's hand for a shake. Perhaps he's being too forward, but he's too excited to care.

"Charles Lee, sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've been asked to introduce you to the city. Help you settle in."

Haytham doesn't respond and Charles barely gives him time to, anyway. As Charles is introducing himself, Haytham bends to pick up his bags and Charles cuts himself off to stop Haytham.

"oh, no need, sir. I've arranged to have your bags delivered to the inn."

Charles motions to a man standing nearby who nods and comes over to take Haytham's bags for him. Charles hopes this comes across as efficiency and not the over eagerness it really is.

"Are you by any chance John and Isabella's son?"

Charles hadn't expected the question and he tenses a bit. He doesn't mind that Haytham knows who his parents are, not in the least. It's what other bits of information he might know that get him nervous.

"One and the same..."

His voice no longer has the same joy to it that it had before. He only hopes Haytham can't hear his nerves in the response.

"Your commission is with Edward Braddock, is it not?"

He becomes even more tense with that question. It really doesn't mean anything. Just because Haytham knows that he works under Braddock doesn't mean he knows that they're engaged. He hopes it doesn't, at least. He'd hate for Haytham to think that he was unwillingly taken from his future husband when he left quite willingly.

"Aye, but he's yet to reach America and I figured I might... Well, at least until he arrives, I thought..."

Charles trails off here. He hopes his mutterings at the end make it seem as though he's nervous about making a request and not about the lie he just told. The easiest way to fend off questions about Braddock is to make it seem as though Charles has yet to officially meet him and what better way to do that than to say they're separated by an ocean? He only hopes Haytham believes him.

"Yes? Out with it."

"Forgive me, sir. I had hoped that I might study under you. If I am to serve the Order, I can imagine no better mentor than yourself."

"Kind of you to say, but I think you overestimate me."

"Impossible, sir."

The words come out slightly breathless and Charles doesn't think he's ever been more sincere about anything else before. It's slightly embarrassing to think about, how he's so taken with this man that he's only just met and so he quickly follows that up with a quick "this way" so as to end the conversation a little more quickly. It works well enough and Haytham turns his attention to a woman dropping a cart of apples and a man taking the opportunity to steal one. Charles half expects Haytham to go after the thief, but he instead remains at Charles's side.

They part after a few more words, Haytham going off to take care of some business of his own and Charles to get their horses in the meantime.

Whatever eagerness he'd been feeling before was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Finally-- finally he is doing something useful for the order! And not only that, but his first assignment is to work closely with Haytham Kenway of all people. Spado barks happily from his place on one of the horses' saddles and Charles can't help but to laugh a little.

Finally, things seemed to be falling into place.

EEEE! This is awesome, writeanon! I love that Shaun and Des are slowly trusting each other, and that you have Shaun teaching Rebecca just in case. And fluff at the end! Much better than outright smex (waaay too early for that, if it happens at all in their relationship ~~I vote it does!~~, and it would've felt like healing!smex. Which can be awesome, but detracts from the story.)

William...I agree w/ above anon. There's too much between those two, and the elder Miles isn't really good at the "Dad" thing (I haven't played enough to make a full decision yet, but so far not impressed w/ the guy. Seems like he's trying too hard, and failing b/c it clashes w/ his personality.)

His Mother’s Son

Journal of Haytham Lee, age 10

Something happened today! Something great!

Rosa gave birth to a litter of puppies and Daddy said that one of them would be mine!

My own puppy!

He’s still little and his face is smushed and he doesn’t have a lot of hair, but Daddy said that he’ll get bigger. Daddy said that he’ll grow a yellow and brown coat soon and be very soft and cute.

I’m going to name him Spado. Daddy’s dog was also called Spado, but Spado got old and died.

He was a good dog. I want my puppy to be just like him!

I always gave him my vegetables. I don’t like vegetables. They don’t taste good.

Yusuf caught me though. He always stares at me and won’t let me give my vegetables away anymore.

But I like Yusuf.

He’s big and strong and he always protects Mommy.

If I don’t grow up to be an eagle, I want to be Yusuf!

Yusuf doesn’t like Daddy much though. He always sneaks into the house and steals Daddy’s food.

Daddy doesn’t like Yusuf either. I think he wants to cook him.

Mommy won’t let him.

He says that if Daddy cooks him, he’ll never let him near him again and Daddy likes kissing Mommy so he doesn’t cook Yusuf.

Daddy is strange around Mommy. He’s always trying to kiss him.

Maybe Mommy tastes sweet like strawberries?

I like strawberries. They taste good with cream.

I think Daddy likes berries too, especially cherries. Sometimes when I sneak to Mommy’s room and the door is locked, I hear Daddy saying that Mommy is still as sweet as when he had his cherry.

How did Mommy lose his cherry? Did Daddy eat it?

I asked Daddy about Mommy’s cherry yesterday, but Daddy turned red and wouldn’t tell me.

I think he must have eaten it.

Daddy is very strange sometimes. His stories are not as good as Mommy’s or as scary as Uncle’s or as sad as Grandpa’s. But they are still good.

Daddy likes to tell stories about a dog named Charlie. The dog was the same kind of dog as Spado, and he was a good dog! He had a master who had the same name as me!

One day, Charlie found a very bad dog who caused a lot of trouble and hurt his friends. Charlie and his master were very mad at the dog, but then Charlie found out that the bad dog was his master’s son.

I always ask Daddy how a dog can be the son of a man, but he never tells me.

Charlie is a smart dog. And he found out that the bad dog liked a rat. Charlie knew that his master was sad about his son being so bad, so he caught the rat and told the bad dog that he would listen and be good or he would drown the rat.

The bad dog must have really liked the rat because he listened to Charlie.

Daddy says that Charlie and the bad dog didn’t get along at first, but then the bad dog got sick. When Charlie saw that the bad dog was sick, he felt sad and was nicer to him.

The bad dog got better and Daddy says that the dogs are still learning to be nicer to each other but that it is hard and the bad dog still does naughty things sometimes.

I asked Daddy why Charlie and the bad dog are still together if the bad dog is still bad. But he says that the bad dog is special and that Charlie likes him.

Daddy likes Mommy like that too. Mommy fights with Daddy sometimes, but Daddy never wants to let Mommy alone.

Charlie must like the bad dog like that.

Oh my gosh I'm so excited you updated ashdfghjk I've been stalking this! I adore how you've used the dialogue but adapted it. I can't wait to read the next part!

Writer anon is overjoyed to come back here and discover not one but three new reviews, one from OP herself! :D My joy knows no bounds. I had too much fun writing this, really I did.

May I presume then that OP and present company would not mind if this writer took a shot at the Leo/Ezio story? Not terribly long of course; anon fails at long stories. >_

Present company wouldn't mind AT ALL.

~~Present company also begs for a ShaunDes sequel. ANON CAN DREAM, RIGHT?~~

Aaaw RIP Spado, but I'm glad Yusuf is still around and causing Charles grief by sneaking into the house and stealing his food LOL

How did Mommy lose his cherry? Did Daddy eat it?

I asked Daddy about Mommy’s cherry yesterday, but Daddy turned red and wouldn’t tell me.

I think he must have eaten it.

This whole part killed me. Poor Haytham is going to be so mortified when he grows up and starts remembering all these innuendos that flew over his head. All of them directed at his poor mother who is both the 'bad eagle' and the 'bad dog' in his father and grandfather's stories.

Kind of wondering what the 'naughty' things Connor is still doing that upsets Charles so much. BTW, has Connor been reunited with Stephane and Deborah?

Poor Haytham is going to be so mortified when he grows up and starts remembering all these innuendos that flew over his head.

That's the beauty of journals. You look over them 8-20 years later, and you're like...what was I thinking? Lol. Although I imagine future Haytham would probably not want to think of his mom like that...

Connor has definitely been reunited with Stephane and Deborah, and they will feature soon. :)

A/N: More porn... part 2

There was a long uncomfortable silence after his outburst. Although Connor continued to hold strong to his convictions, he felt his heart beat quicken in fear at what the Templar would do next. He tried to prepare himself for the pain his husband would punish him with. Would Charles strike him again? Or would he continue to use force and brutality to take his pleasure?

One of the large hands that was planted on his hip, reached around and began to rub at his belly, causing Connor to jerk in surprise. The touch was gentle even if it was still restraining. He had been expecting violence, and yet again Charles had pulled the rug out from beneath his feet. Teeth scraped lightly against his shoulder, as the hand descended lower to wrap around his flaccid cock.

"You are alone, boy," Charles spoke softly into his ear. "Your allies cannot help you. Whereas I see no point in harming those civilians who live on our property..." Connor bristled again at the idea of Charles owning any part of the land that Achilles had entrusted to his heir, but kept quiet as his tormentor stroked him encouragingly. "Your remaining recruits and your former fiancé are another matter."

There it was, his choke chain.

"Did we not have an agreement, Connor? You would give me an heir, an Alpha son who will inherit those remarkable eyes that belong to you and your father, in exchange for Washington's life?"

Connor grit his teeth as he thought of George, and wondered - hoped - his beloved was still alive somewhere.

"Or perhaps..." Charles paused to lap at the bite mark on his shoulder, causing the pinned Assassin to shiver beneath him. "Perhaps you no longer care. I would not hold it against you. Washington was a pathetically weak Commander and an insult to all Alphas. He would have allowed you to walk all over him."

He growled in warning, about to speak until the Templar slowly began to thrust, long and deep, inside of him. Tears blurred his vision again, and he stubbornly blinked them back. He crossed his arms beneath his head, biting down on one in order to muffle his sobs.

"But you are fond of protecting weaklings, aren't you?" The friction was unbearable, Connor could barely concentrate on what his husband was saying. "It is one of your many flaws."

'And what of the casual dismissal of killing innocents?' he wanted to scream out loud, but instead bit harder into his arm when Lee began to gradually speed up the pace.

The hand around his cock, stroked him hard enough that it was nearly painful. It must have been his damn heat cycle again, because slowly but surely, his body began to respond. It was not long before he became aroused, and despite his desperate wishes, felt himself rock back against those harsh thrusts.

Charles hummed a little in approval, but did not slacken his grip or slow his movements. "Then there's your recruits. They're a rather troublesome lot..."

Stephane... Deborah... Clipper...

The Assassin was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming sense of failure as a leader, a mentor, and a brother. Connor closed his eyes as remembered them bruised and battered, but still standing, as they were held at gunpoint inside the Church. He remembered yelling death threats and profanities at Charles who had taken George's place as his groom. He was relieved that they were still alive - assuming the Templar was telling the truth - but for how much longer?

"The two Alphas in your pack, I ought to have disposed of. They are dead weight after all..." Charles mused and inhaled sharply as Connor tensed around him. "You would probably be interested to know that the Inner Circle has recently gained some new members."

Connor was not surprised. Cut off three of the hydra's heads, and six more bloom in their place. It explained the Templar inactivity after Hickey's death.

"Some of them are unmarried," Charles continued on conversationally as he leaned back and began to roll his hips. "I was planning of giving one in particular an Omega as a welcoming gift. What do you think?"

Clipper!

Connor's eyes widened as he released the abused flesh from his jaws in order to protest, but ended up crying out instead as Charles' cock grazed that oversensitive bundle of nerves inside him. The pleasure spiked straight to his groin, and the inferno that burned through his loins before was now rekindled.

No! No! No! Fight this! You are not his whore!

Hot tears dripped down his flushed cheeks and his legs spread further apart in their own volition. He felt feverish once again as his thoughts became hazy and muddled. The only thing the Omega could seem to concentrate on was the pulsing heat building between his thighs, and the constant rubbing against that spot within him.

He released a low continuous moan as he reared back and met each one of those plunging thrusts. They were so deep, that Connor could actually taste the Charles in the back of his throat. The sweaty hand around his heavy cock, pumped him furiously and would tighten its grip each time Lee slammed into him.

The hand on his side tightened, nails cruelly leaving a row of red crescents, as he felt Charles rear back and plunged back inside one last time, striking that sweet spot before he came. Light exploded before Connor's eyes - he thought he might have gone blind for a minute - and he screamed himself hoarse in either pleasure or pain, his mind was too far-gone to differentiate.

After spilling his seed into Charles' hand and the covers beneath him, he went boneless, while struggling to catch his breath. His knees wobbled beneath him, and the only thing that seemed to be holding him up was the arm wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes in fatigue as he tried not to think of the wet warmth filling him up and trickling down his thighs.

He tried not to think about what would be living inside him in the months to come.

A/N: Writing porn is hard /buries face in hands/

I would definitely not mind, and would love to see more of your stories! :D ~~And seconding that sequel...if writeanon gets more plotbunnies for the verse.~~

And don't worry about the Leo/Ezio one being short! While I love long fic, sometimes it's nice to get shorter fic as a breather to all the epics that have popped up here (and to tide us over till next epic fic update! :D)

Writing porn is hard, but you did a very nice job of angsty porn here. Poor Connor. We're so mean to him.

Really loving how you're weaving the threats into the rape and the overall loss of control and power. It really highlights just how low Connor feels right now, in almost every way, and it's very heartbreaking.

And guiltily hot.

And Charles is so deliciously reprehensible but oddly delicious...

Writer is glad to hear it! (And if I get anymore plotbunnies for the Shaun/Des, I'll throw them up here or link to them, don't worry.)

------

The execution of the House Auditore sends a ripple down Firenze's power structure. Despite the fact that the mother and daughter still live, the greedy nobles who have sought what Giovanni sat on for so long still reach forward in a desperate bid to claim whatever is left. The mother is broken and the daughter traumatized; neither would put up much of a legal fight over land or possessions. The Pazzi are the ones who end up benefiting the most; Vieri Pazzi and his father claim insult against the former House, and the judges decide that it is only fitting they get what remains to answer for the damage done to the Pazzi. Within three simple days both Maria Auditore and Claudia Auditore are forced from Firenze, banished by the Pazzi's power and dirty coin. They carry nothing more than the clothes on their back and what they can carry in their pockets.

Leonardo had offered to house them, and even Lord Lorenzo had attempted to step in and sway the judges favor. But without Giovanni as his grounding, Lorenzo could only push so far, and was forced to concede in the end. As for Leonardo, he was quickly written over and ignored. The duo were forced to retreat and watch as the last decent House in the city crumbled under the Pazzi's boots. There was no doubt in Leonardo's mind that there were a number of reasons Vieri Pazzi and his father had claimed insult on the former House, but perhaps the most prominent was to spite Lorenzo, who controlled the bank that had outgrown their own. The artist knew it wouldn't be long before all of Florence would be under their control, especially now that Vieri's father was out of jail.

Of course, Lorenzo was no fool either; despite relying mostly on Giovanni, he had numerous other eyes and ears about the city that reported to him at least every day, if not every week. What was surprising to Leonardo though was when the leader called for HIM to come in -- something that had never occurred before. He was made all the more nervous by the fact that Lorenzo sent armed guards to pick him up. Still, he didn't resist, and mutely followed the group all the way to the Lord's chambers, where he was left to stand on his own, the door shutting and locking behind him. Only then was Leonardo able to finally get a decent look at what the past few days had done to the man.

He looked paler than usual, and the dark bags under his eyes said that he had gotten little to no sleep lately. Leonardo could relate, but for a different reason. For all that he man held himself upright and proud, the artist could see how badly he was fraying at the edges. "Milord--"

Yet before Leonardo could even get started, Lorenzo held up a hand. "I am aware, Leonardo, so still any warnings you are about to give to me. I did not bring you here so we could discuss what I already know."

Leonardo sighed shakily, nodding. "Very well then. What can I help you with, Altezza?"

"House Auditore is not dead."

Leonardo froze where he stood, eyes wide. "That... that is...impossibile! I was there, Altezza, I witnessed their deaths with my own eyes!"

Lorenzo nodded thoughtfully, throat bobbing as he swallowed, a great sadness lurking behind his stoic expression. "Yes, I know. But as it turns out, Uberto did not pay attention when he tossed my hawk and his nest into the fire. There is one still remaining that has not been cast out or cut down. And we need to find him very quickly."

"Who?" Leonardo found himself whispering, stepping forward as his heart hammered in his chest. "Who is it? I give you my word I will search everywhere I can--"

Lorenzo nodded, eyes shutting. "Ezio Auditore. He lives still, somewhere out in Florence. I find myself fearing for him - he is Giovanni's last foothold within this city, and his family's last chance for vengeance. If we do not find him and get him up to speed by the time the Pazzi put their plans into motion, this city and I will crumble and burn."

The warning was dire, but not unexpected. Still, the gravity of the situation weighed down as heavily on Leonardo as one of his stone statues. He fought to stay still, fists clenched at his sides. "Do we have any idea where he could be?"

Lorenzo hesitated, and Leonardo knew the answer. "Then we must search. By day and by night, until we find him. And we must pray against all odds that we get to him before the Pazzi do."

It had been a week since the meeting with Lorenzo, and despite both men's best efforts, neither had found any trace or clue as to the whereabouts of Ezio. Lorenzo had gotten in contact with Ezio's uncle Mario out in Monteriggioni, but the man swore he had not heard from his brother or his nephew in a long time. Perhaps to add insult to injury, Lorenzo was forced to tell Mario of his brother's execution. Mario swore he would keep an eye out for Ezio, and let them know as soon as possible if he did encounter the boy.

Fortunately, he was not the only one; several factions within Florence's walls had held peace with House Auditore, and seen Giovanni's death for what it was. La Volpe, surprisingly enough had been the first to step forward, confronting Leonardo one evening after everyone else had gone home. Leonardo had heard enough of the Fox through Giovanni to be aware of the rumors circling him like so many horses, as well as his temperament; Giovanni had told him Volpe held little love of fools and sitting ducks. Leonardo found himself nearly overwhelmed by the man's sheer presence and natural charm, although both seemed to disappear once the door was shut.

"Is it true then? Giovanni's last child is out in the city somewhere?" The thief demanded, moving from his spot against the wall.

"Si. Altezza, Mario and I are working as hard as we can to find him before the Pazzi do. We know they hold no love of the Auditore - we can only speculate what they would do if they were to discover an Auditore still remained among them."

"They would destroy him," Volpe spat unflinchingly, "they would break his body and then his mind. That is the way of the Pazzi. I would not be surprised to find him with a collar around his neck when we drag him out."

"You make it sound as if he's already been caught!" Leonardo cried, alarmed. Volpe shook his head.

"I'm merely stating the truth of the matter. If we don't find Giovanni's missing son soon, then we must assume he is either captured or dead. Fortunately, both I and my men move fast in tight situations. I have heard that we are not the only ones that have agreed to search. Who else is on the hunt?"

"The courtesans have already agreed, although they are the only ones I'm aware of so far. Altezza may have the names of others."

Volpe scoffed. "I do not need to know their names, only their faces. Even without the lordling's directions, I can assume which side goes to which leader. You'll find help in the darker places now; shield yourself well little artist, and prepare for the blowout when the Pazzi discover their prize has been under their nose the whole time. We will steal Ezio back, and we will not be merciful doing it."

Volpe vanished after that, leaving Leonardo with mixed feelings, most of which consisted of worry and dread. The thought of the Pazzi discovering Ezio before had been disturbing, but now it was positively sickening. Forcing himself to go back to his work, Leonardo prayed to whoever was listening that Ezio would stay in hiding long enough for La Volpe and his followers to find him.

---------

He had not slept since the execution.

Although exhaustion dogged him like a shadow and his very soul ached with the pain of loss, he could not sleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes for just a few precious minutes and lose himself in the blessed darkness, he would recall their faces, the nooses around their necks, the stab of betrayal in his chest at Uberto's words. He had failed his family - his brothers and fathers were lost to him forever, and his mother and sister had been cast from the city, thrown to parts unknown.

Ezio curled up in a ball. He didn't know where he was - only that it was dark and quiet, nobody around for miles. He could hear the town off in the distance - was he near Firenze? He couldn't tell anymore. His mind refused to put the last few days in order, the strain of attempting to walk off such devastating events so soon crippling him like a broken limb. Overhead, the sky darkened and re-lit itself like a beacon fire, the sun passing in a constant cycle that made him dizzy if he stared at it too long.

It came to him that he needed to be somewhere, needed to see someone. But after a few minutes of trying and failing to recall a name or a face, he gave up. If it were truly important, he wouldn't have forgotten.

It was an invasion.

That was Desmond's first thought as he ducked into the shadows and made his way across the area above, quickly counting numbers and adding them up in his head. The total was quickly nearing four-score -- and intimidating number considering there was only one of him. He recalled Shaun's refusal to let him go, and thought for a brief moment that perhaps he should have listened.

/Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Are we going to do something or just sit here and wait for them to find us?/

Point made. Desmond climbed down, carefully sticking to the shadows and giving the adversaries a wide berth. If he could get to the back of them all, he'd start sweeping them from the back and hopefully get to the front before they could get inside and track down Lucy, Rebecca and Shaun. He still wasn't sure how they hadn't smelled him yet, but he wasn't going to look a gifthorse in the mouth.

He managed to find a little niche in the corner of an alleyway and stayed there as the numbers went by. Even when it seemed like the last of them had gone, he stayed a bit longer, in case they had set up a group further back for a plan like his. The Templars were an aggravating bunch after all - he would give them that they were intelligent, but that was all he'd give them.

After a moment or two of waiting, he tentatively ducked out from his hiding spot and began to sneak up on the first in the back row, waiting until he fell a step behind the others before reaching out, covering his mouth and slicing his jugular. He dropped the body and continued onward, keeping pace with the others and praying that they wouldn't turn around.

Luck was with him, at least until he finished the sixth man in the group. Then luck abandoned him. He wasn't sure what he did, or if it was even him, but one of them glanced behind him - and that was that.

"Assassin!"

"It's the target!"

"Get him!"

There must have been some apprentices in the group, because only novices rushed into battle like that. Desmond briefly considered how much he had just sounded like Malik before ducking under a knife swing and planting his blade firmly between the guy's ribs. There were only three of them, but it was enough of an annoyance. Especially considering they had guns, and instead they'd chosen to use knives - not that Desmond was complaining, but it was just a thought.

When the third guy was down, four more advanced, much slower than the first group. And then suddenly, they just stopped. Desmond couldn't figure out why--

--right up until they started smelling the air. /Fuck my life./

"'ey Sarge? This 'un, he's in heat," one of the men called over his shoulder. The 'sarge' stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. After a minute, he grinned.

"So he is. Well boy, unfortunately for you, Vidic wants you back. And he's ordered us not to hurt you, so you can count your blessings, however short they may be. But..."

"But?" Desmond snapped. He was feeling on-edge now, the sensation of so many hungry gazes making his instincts scream. Suddenly he was more than ready to fight and cut these guys to pieces. It was just like with Shaun, except Shaun hadn't been an enemy or made his skin crawl out of itself like his was trying to do.

"But Vidic never said we couldn't have a bit of fun before we returned you. And after all, we're going out of our way to collect you're deranged ass and all. It only makes sense, right boys?" He chuckled, and then jerked his head towards Desmond. "Secure our treasure."

Desmond's mind seemed to fall away then, some part of him stepping out of his body and watching as he was apprehended, arms held while he was forced on his knees. /No.../

They surrounded him, a solid wall of black and silver metal mixed with dark vibrations. It was like being sucked into a void of tar, slowly pulling him down and drowning him. He could smell them, feel their desire. Some part of him craved it, wanted what they were offering. The rest of him, the part that wasn't driven by the heat, was disgusted and terrified and and and--

/Kill them./

"Now then boy, why don't you open your mouth like a good pet? And don't you dare bite down."

/Let me go. Let me go let me go letmegoletmegoLETMEGOLETMEGO--/

"LET ME GO!"

And suddenly that part of him that had been sucked out was back inside, and his vision was covered by a veil of red flame. His mind went blank, and the last thing he remembered was Shaun rounding the corner right before his blade severed the head of the man in front of him.

---------

It was like watching a horror movie. Shaun could think of no other way to describe Desmond at that moment. A mere second ago he had been intent on saving the other man, seeing him pinned and surrounded. But now? Now Shaun knew Desmond didn't need any help. No, Desmond was... well, for lack of a better word, he was berserk.

It was a slaughter, simply put. He was razing the men to the ground with the blade, screaming like a wild animal, eyes unfocused as he struck down Templar after Templar, blood hitting the ground and him in copious amounts. It was enough to make Shaun sick, especially once Desmond seemed to get bored of severing head and moved on to stomachs, the contents emptying along with the intestines, the bodies dropping to the ground without putting up a single fight.

What felt like hours took only seconds. Then only Shaun and Desmond were left standing, one with a gun in his hand and the other with a blade. Shaun began backing up, trying to quietly get back inside and let Desmond cool down, the reminder of the volatile first heat suddenly striking him. He was doing well, right up until his foot hit a rock, causing it to skitter aside. In the silence, Shaun could hear his heartbeat.

Desmond turned to look at Shaun, and grinned, no sign of his sanity anywhere to be found. Shaun said the only thing he could think of.

"Oh bugger."

Please ignore my tense fails in the previous fill. ^^; I apparently wasn't as awake as I thought.

This anon also apologizes for the romantic fail that's about to take place. OTL brace yourselves please.
------

The air between them was hot.

Leonardo knew the second he said it that something had changed. It was practically like something had snapped into place, completing a picture that he himself had never seen the whole of. A beautiful portrait that he had painted half of before being forced to leave it unfinished. And if there was one thing Leonardo hated, it was an unfinished portrait. But now it was complete, so he could finally relax.

Except he /couldn't/.

Because Ezio was suddenly looking at him with a gaze that was hot and feral and deliciously heavy, as if he was the only person in the whole entire universe that mattered. Leonardo had dreamed of seeing that look, wondered countless times how Ezio would deliver it, but nothing he had ever dreamed up could compare to now. It felt good, being so focused on. It gave him a sort of strength he might not have had otherwise, a strength that encouraged him to go on and speak his mind, because Ezio wouldn't interrupt or try to stop him. "If I was the one who loved you, would you hate me?"

The assassin didn't hesitate. "Never."

"Would you attempt to escape my affections? Pass them off as a delusion?"

"No."

"If I said I wanted to kiss you, would you let me do it?"

"Once the guards were out of the way, yes."

"Assume there are no guards."

"Without a second thought."

"What if I said I wanted you as my only partner? If I proclaimed jealousy towards your other 'friends'?"

Something hungry was showing in the other's gaze ; Leonardo was more than certain he had the same look on his own face. "Then I wouldn't visit them again. I wouldn't do anything to distress you."

"If I asked for your heart?"

"My heart would be yours."

"What of your blade?"

"No other would touch you so long as I lived."

A shiver worked itself down the artist's spine. Ezio's tongue flickered over his lips quickly, but it wasn't quick enough to escape Leonardo's gaze. They're playing around now, driving themselves mad with a want that has been building since creation knows when. It's like a dance, slow and sensuous that relaxes them while it entices a hunger that goes beyond words. Leonardo didn't want the dance to end too soon, but he knew that if he drew it out too much, Ezio might think he's only asking hypothetical, rather than begging the truth. So he switched tactics.

"If I gave you my trust, would you return it?"

"Always. I would never betray you, no matter what you were to me. Even if we were enemies."

A heavy statement. It bodes well for later on in the evening.

"If I gave you my heart, could I trust you to guard it?"

"Even if my own stopped in the process, I would protect yours until you didn't need me to anymore."

Leonardo slipped up. "I would always need you, Ezio. I promise you that."

A tiny sound came from the back of the man's throat, and his fists curled in at his sides, so hard until he can hear the knuckles crack. His own pulse sped up in reply. It's time to end this. So he cast the final question.

"Do you want me, Ezio? Do you desire me as more than a friend?"

Time seemed to stop for a beat right before it slammed into Leonardo with all the grace of a train wreck. Wait, but time shouldn't feel warm...

Ezio pinned him to the wall and tipped the artist's head back, so that they were staring into one another's eyes. Ezio's pupils were blown, a mere sliver of color behind the black. His body rubbed against Leonardo's, causing the smaller man to shiver. Finally, this is where they need to be.

"Allow me to show you, tesoro." And Ezio's head dipped down, the kiss that both have been waiting literally years for finally being performed.

Personally, Leonardo thought it was his best one yet.

--------

On a scale of one to ten, how bad am I failing so far? OTL *goes off to the corner of shame*

Agh, you've given me a toothache, this is so terribly sweet. Especially Haytham's reassurances to Raton and how he puts off celebrating to keep his promise.

For one moment, Shaun actually considered running. Not that that was a bad reaction, of course. Hell, anyone would have run by now. But it wasn't him. He couldn't leave Desmond alone now, just like he couldn't leave him to suffer those damn Bleeding Effects by himself. As much as Shaun would never admit it, Desmond made his life interesting.

Well, more interesting. After all, he was in a group comprised of murderous Assassins, trying to keep mythical artifacts from falling into the hands of tyrant men and women called Templars. That alone was practically the definition of interesting. And that wasn't even with the addition of the supposed Ones Who Came Before and all their magic mojo thrown in. The point was, his life was hectic and had been for a very long time. He was used to hectic. But Desmond had thrown a wrench into his patterns, cast doubt on things he used to be so sure about. And Shaun liked it; it gave him something to look forward to.

Normally. But now was not normal, because now Desmond was moving towards him with his blade bloodied and Shaun dropped his gun, because he didn't need to be gutted right now and certainly didn't feel like doing so. So when Desmond pushed him down and sat on him, blade kissing his throat, he didn't move. He merely watched, not offering up any resistance. This seemed to confuse the assassin, as Desmond tilted his head and frowned, blade digging in a little. Shaun fought not to gulp in response and turned his palms over, showing he held no weapons. "Easy there, Desmond," he muttered.

Something shifted behind Desmond's eyes, and the brunette shook his head, as if trying to clear it. While he was distracted, Shaun quickly slipped his hands up near Desmond's hips. Something in Al-Sayf's journal had mentioned that occasionally physical touch could shake an enraged Omega out of their blood lust; he didn't know if Desmond was one such man, but it was better than lying there and waiting for Desmond to slit his throat.

When the blade wavered a bit, he gently laid his hands down. A hiss of breath told him that the touch was noticed; keeping his gaze locked with the one above him, he carefully slid his hands up, near Desmond's ribcage.

The reaction was not what Shaun was expecting. Desmond practically threw himself back to get away from Shaun's touch; he blinked rapidly and shook his head several times, blade slipping back into its sheath.

"Desmond?" Shaun tried.

Desmond said something, but it wasn't in English. Shaun might not have understood the words, but the tone was clear; Desmond was pleading for something. Carefully getting up, he approached the other man, palms up to show he meant no harm. Desmond didn't back up, but he didn't advance either. "Easy Desmond, it's okay... the Templars are dead now, you see? No more danger. You can relax. Just... just relax, okay?" At this point Shaun wasn't sure if he was talking more to Desmond than himself, or perhaps it was a combination of both - all he knew was that Desmond seemed to be suffering under both a Bleed and the effects of a heat-induced blood lust, which made him virtually a walking bomb.

Lucy and Rebecca could handle a lot of things, but a suddenly murderous Desmond was not one of them.

So once again, Shaun got close, Desmond wavering on his feet, looking more than a little faint as light returned to his eyes. Then, just before Desmond could collapse, Shaun seized him under the arms again. And once again, Desmond yowled and tried to spin away, but Shaun held tight. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Miles? I'm trying to help, you ignorant git!"

"L-l-let go S-s-shaun! T-t-that--"

"Why are you stammering?"

"B-b-bad touch!" Desmond yelled, cheeks turning red, and suddenly Shaun just GOT it.

"Oh. Oh bloody hell!" He let go of Desmond so fast his hands might as well have been on fire. His mind dryly recalled the little thing Al-Sayf's journal had mentioned about Omega pleasure points - it seemed Shaun had inadvertently found Desmond's. /Good going there, idiot. Way to make an excellent impression. And you call yourself an intelligent man./

"Shut up," he growled at himself, his own cheeks a fantastic shade of pink. "Uh, Desmond I didn't mean to--"

"I know, I know," the other reassured, looking more like himself already. "It- it was just... um, you-you touching, and m-my heat..."

Oh. OH. Right. He was still under his heat, and Shaun was still exuding hormones, and with him touching the pleasure point...

"M-maybe we should, uh, clean this up and go back inside and call it a day?"

"Good idea. Best idea ever."

"Excellent. You want some tea?" Shaun never shared his tea, but he was willing to make an exception, seeing as he'd practically molested Desmond just now.

"Love some. You want some spaghetti for dinner?"

"Sounds delightful. I'll let the girls know."

Haytham is captured by miscellaneous assassins from random timeframes. Although I would prefer the characters to stay in the historical periods, I'm not choosy :)

I just want Haytham bound and interrogated by Assassins who are in disagreement over the best way to extract information from their enigmatic prisoner. Who is he? Who does he work for? How does he know the Assassins' own techniques? Everyone has a different idea of how to get him talking.

Machiavelli goes for the subtle manipulation and mind games, while Altair and/or Bartolomeo D'Alviano just want to beat the living shit out of him. Malik is not impressed by this and knows he could get the Templar to spill his mind if only Altair didn't keep fucking it up. And Ezio... when left to his own devices, they ended up making out, with Haytham's wrists still bound securely behind his back. Great job, Mentore.

Who will break him, if anyone? Does anyone care? Even one tiny segment of this would be amazing, the scenario is driving me nuts.

I hope this is to your liking, OP. :) All of the A/B/O fics floating around here made me want to try my hand at writing one as well, so I hope it's okay! Fic features Charles/Haytham with a very tiny side of Birch/Haytham.

***

It was something he had long prided himself about.

Haytham had, for the majority of his life, fooled the world into thinking that he was an alpha. Powerful, charismatic, and always in control of the situation, there was nothing about him that gave away his true nature, nothing that marked him as a needy, submissive omega. The personality elements of it all came naturally, raised as he was under the careful eye of two very impressive alphas.

Oh, some would have scoffed at the idea of turning an individual of an inferior nature into an Assassin or a Templar, but his father and Reginald had both seen the potential in him--seen what the Kenway line could continue to offer the world, despite this certain inborn... misfortune. Needless to say, Haytham had risen marvelously to the challenge, earning himself respect and a title that matched his devotion and dedication to exceeding expectations.

To him, the psychological and emotional components of his nature were the easy parts to master. Making sure that no one learned of when he went into heat, however, took a bit more work and creativity. Mental exercises, an assortment of herbal remedies, and extreme care in closed spaces meant that, thus far, he’d managed to survive without a bonded partner.

The physical cravings to be taken, to be fucked--owned, dominated--never completely went away, even given his most stringent practices, and at an early age, Haytham learned that his hand was hardly a suitable replacement. It would have been all too easy to hand himself over to the nearest alpha in the vicinity, and given his charm and his looks, it never crossed his mind that anyone would dare think of rejecting him.

Still, to act upon any of those impulses was to put his own future in jeopardy, and now that he’d climbed so far... No, Haytham couldn’t risk it.

The challenge would continue to grow when he crossed the Atlantic though. A good portion of his herbal teas had been ruined on the journey over--a rotten, sodden mess after being exposed to more than a little salt water--and to survive a heat without it... Well, Haytham had never managed it in the past. When this had happened previously, Reginald had always served as a last resort, but here he was in the Americas, an ocean away from his mentor and only source of physical relief.

It was a problem that he recognized and decided to try and fix the moment he set foot on Boston soil, but no matter how many stores he browsed, no matter how many peddlers he spoke to, not a single one carried any of the ingredients he needed. Writing to Reginald for more was certainly an option, but that would only provide him with reprieve in several months’ time; it would do nothing for his next heat.

Anxiety continued to grow within him as he began work with Charles, William, and Thomas, but to his benefit, the perfect facade never failed him once; his secret was, for the time being, safe. In fact, his colleagues were all quite impressed with him, with Lee all but worshipping the ground he walked upon--strange behavior from an alpha but not entirely unwanted, given his own situation.

With no hope of procuring more tea before the arrival of his heat, Haytham was left with two options: suffer alone or find an alpha who would take care of him during his time of need. When he was younger, he’d tried the former to disastrous results, and it was only with good timing on Reginald’s part that his dignity and reputation had been spared from a lifetime’s worth of slander and humiliation.

No, he couldn’t risk it again, which meant turning to his colleagues. Thomas was an omega himself, but the attitudes they held toward their natures were completely and utterly different. While he sought to hide any and all traces of it, Thomas seemed to take great pride in it--basked in his lasciviousness; he flaunted his omega status and slept with anyone and everyone who would have him when he was in heat.

--Including William, who seemed to tolerate the man’s behavior with remarkable calm and patience. Haytham had originally thought the two bonded, but if they were, William was an extraordinarily lenient alpha; he seemed to overlook every single one of Thomas’ transgressions. This sort of casual nature made Haytham wonder if he would be a good choice to find relief from, but William seemed to have little interest in him aside from on an intellectual capacity, which, admittedly, was not a bad thing.

This meant, of course, he had but one option.

“Charles, I’ve a favor to ask of you,” he started, pacing the room slowly; William and Thomas were out--the former had gone to speak with one of his native associates, and the latter was sniffing around the underground for leads about the precursor site. He had two more days as a free man before his nature would claim him for its own, robbing him of his sensibilities; his time was short. If Charles refused him, if Charles was not the individual he’d pinned him to be, Haytham would be in a world of trouble.

“Anything for you, sir.”

His lips quirked in a quick, sharp smile. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

He’d drunk the last of his tea yesterday, and while its effects lingered, Haytham knew he was running on borrowed time. He moved into Charles’ space, pressing close enough to allow their scents to mingle. Would he notice? Would he realize the nature of his request?

“I require your vow of silence and your personal... assistance,” he murmured, voice pitched low. For a moment, there was no reaction, but then Haytham felt hands settle carefully against his hips; a soft, rattling sigh slipped past Charles’ lips. Interest piqued, the man’s nostrils flared, and Haytham smiled once more. Was it always so easy to snare an alpha? “Do I have your word?”

“Of course, sir. I am yours to command.”

Arrangement made, that, he hoped, was that.

On the eve of his heat, they’d taken up temporary residence at an inn on the other side of the city, hidden away in the safety of strangers, and while the night had started off well enough, Haytham woke up sweating and slick well before dawn, groaning at how uncomfortable his nightshirt felt against his skin, at how very aroused he was. He knew without a doubt that his scent had filled the room by this point, and any other alpha would have take advantage of him--even Reginald would not have been able to resist such temptation.

Still, Charles held back, twitching slightly in his seat like a dog barely held at bay by the words of its master.

It was only when he saw Haytham struggling to remove the remainder of his clothing that he approached the bed, touched a gentle hand to his shoulder, his skin fever hot. “Master Kenway,” he murmured, voice strained and filled with a need that matched his own. “Please, sir, allow me to help.”

At any other time, that sort of deference would have been appreciated, but right now, such preferential treatment only served to irritate him.

“Don’t ask, Charles. I brought you here for a reason. Take,” he snapped, grabbing the man’s shirt and dragging him down for a biting kiss. Charles replied with a moan and shoved, pushing Haytham back against the bed and the air out of his lungs; the alpha’s scent was heady this close, and Haytham wanted more of it, wanted to drown in it.

The heavy weight of a body on top of his was wonderful, crushing him into the mattress, and Haytham bucked upwards, hissing as his cock dragged against the fabric of Charles’ breeches; he could feel the answering heat there, the hard press of his arousal against his leg. It was just extremely unfortunate that the man was still dressed. This was not the time to drag one’s feet; Haytham needed a cock inside of him, and he needed it now.

Growling his frustration, he nipped and bit at Charles’ lips, leaving them red and swollen under his attentions. The alpha finally lifted himself onto his arms and rolled his hips against Haytham, ground against him in a way that had him whimpering with need. “Ready yourself for me,” Charles said, a low, demanding snarl that sent a shiver lancing down his spine. That was the tone he wanted to hear right now, and Haytham hurried to comply, to obey the alpha’s demand as the man slipped away to finish undressing.

A part of him wanted to watch as the alpha revealed himself, but the haze of lust was too strong; he could hardly see straight as it was. All Haytham wanted was to be touched, to be fucked, and if it meant sacrificing the sight of Charles denuding himself to hurry themselves along, so be it.

He had two fingers within him, buried to the knuckle, by the time the alpha returned, and Haytham spread his legs all the wider in invitation, slipping his digits out and smearing his fluids over his thigh. Hesitant he might have been before, Charles took the initiative now, lifting Haytham’s hips and thrusting deep--forcing a groan right out of the omega’s mouth; long fingers scrabbled at the sheets, bunching them in his hands.

Finally, finally,finally, he was complete, the hot and heavy weight of Charles filling that void within him. He was beyond full, and heavens, it hurt but in the absolutely best way possible. The alpha’s breath was hot on his ear as he panted from exertion, body pulled taut like a bowstring, and Haytham clawed at his bared back, hissing encouragements--that he could take it, that he wouldn’t break, that he needed this.

“I give the orders, omega,” Charles growled, punctuating his words with a particularly sharp thrust. “And I will dictate how your needs will be met.” Were he in any other state of mind, that sort of tone and that choice of words would have caused a sharp reaction from Haytham. But now? With his legs spread wide beyond decency, he merely whined, his true nature overcoming the carefully groomed persona he wore for the rest of the world to see.

The sheets beneath him were damp with his need, damp with his sweat, and his breaths came in ragged gasps as Charles continued to fuck him and fuck him hard--each thrust causing the headboard to bang against the wall. High as he was on the smell of sex, of an alpha, Haytham didn’t have the ability to think, his eloquent tongue lost to desperate pleas for more, yes, no don’t stop that spiked when Charles’ cock grazed that special spot within him, making him see stars.

All too abruptly, though, the alpha withdrew, and Haytham keened at the loss, eyes glaring daggers at the man; anger struck clarity back into his thoughts, gave his leaden tongue an edge once more. “Charles, what are you doing?” he hissed, vehement. “You are here for one purpose--”

“If you wish for my assistance, then I have one request: on your knees, Master Kenway.” When Haytham looked as if he were about to balk, Charles stroked a fingertip over his lip. “Be good for me.”

And that little bit of praise was all it took for him to twist, arse in the air and head in his arms--ready to be mounted like an animal.

Charles was good on his word and pushed home, making Haytham shudder beneath him. A hand splayed across his back as the other settled against his hip, and dimly, he could make out words that sounded like encouragement and high praise. They slowly shifted into low growls, however, and those sounds then turned into commands hurriedly whispered, dictating that he spill, that he beg for an alpha’s knot.

A hand closed around his cock and squeezed, and that touch was like electricity, sending his oversensitized body into overdrive. Haytham climaxed, fingers curling tight against the sheets, his leavings mixing with the slick of his arousal, and while his knees threatened to give, Charles did not seem to notice, the snap of his hips more brutal than before.

“Charles,” Haytham bit out, gasping with pain and residual pleasure; he was rougher with him than Reginald had ever been and ten times more possessive. The alpha ground against him in response, hot and demanding--still hungry. “Sodding Christ!” Dull fingernails raked against his sides, and Haytham snarled, desperate for a sort of completion that he could not find alone. “Charles. Charles! Knot me already, you bastard!”

Oh, he could feel it, feel the way his arse felt more stretched than before. Charles’ panted heavily as his thrusts grew shallower and shallower until at last he came, filling Haytham with warmth from within--making him mirror the groan of his alpha. The knot within him swelled to its fullest, edging on pain, but he merely hummed pleasantly, finally satiated.

Equally satisfied, Charles’ attentions became gentle once more, a hand smoothing down his chest, over his thigh; he worried a spot at the base of his neck with his mouth, marking Haytham as his own. When the man had at last caught his breath, he pressed a kiss to his shoulderblade. “Was I too rough?”

Clenching around the bond that still joined them, Haytham relished the little hiss that slipped past the alpha’s lips. He rocked back against the cradle of Charles’ hips, already teasing for the next round. “I asked for an alpha to assist me,” he said matter-of-factly. “I would have no use for an individual who couldn’t even control an omega.

“Do I make myself understood, Charles?”

“Completely, sir,” he replied, and those words were filled with promise--promise that Haytham would see him execute.

I may have something for this, if you'd like.

Thank you! ;u; Knowing you're enjoying this so thoroughly makes me confident enough to keep on writing. Makes me really glad to know others are enjoying as well.

Dear Juno on apocalypse, are you me OP? First you like AltMal, then you like Ezio/Sofia and now DesLucy too???

This anon didn't really have any other plans for secondary chars in this story, but I just might write spin-off minifills expanding on Ezio and Sofia's backstory for this fic and Lucy and Des'. (As a matter of fact, seeing as DesLucy is my ultimate AC OTP and I'm really enjoying writing this fic, I did already plan on writing something about them and post on AO3 or tumblr).

That and there's a severe lack of DesLucy fics in general

Not OP is thrilled to hear this!

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Page 217 of 385

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: Fill: A Lesson in Respect 2/2

Re: Fill: A Lesson in Respect 2/2

Re: FILL: The Best Sort of Death 7/?

Fill: No Danger (Haytham/Charles Omegaverse 2/?)

OP

Continuing Fill 3 - His Mother's Son 3

Re: Fill: No Danger (Haytham/Charles Omegaverse 2/?)

Re: OP

Not OP

Re: Continuing Fill 3 - His Mother's Son 3

Re: Continuing Fill 3 - His Mother's Son 3

Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 19/?

OP

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 19/?

FILL: The Lost Eaglet 1/?

FILL: The Lost Eaglet 2/?

FILL: The Best Sort of Death 8/?

FILL: Our Paradise 15/?

Re: Stay 1/1

FILL: The Best Sort of Death 9/?

Haytham captured assassins in a mixed-up timeframe

Fill: Indulging in Plan C

Re: The Big Bad Wolf

Author!Anon here

Re: The Big Bad Wolf