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

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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.

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✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

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Yet another anon agreeing! I really love this story, and always read, even if I forget to comment most of the time. You're brilliant, author-anon! :3

Do want!

You know what would be the awesomeness?

AC/Evil Dead crossover.

Your favourite Templars as Deadites.
And as Ash... I don't know. Desmond would be logical choice, but I don't see why the poor bastard in the cabin can't be Ezio, or Altaïr, or... or... Claudia, or...

Altair felt incredibly out of place in the large black car. Everything looked so expensive and clean, and Altair was sitting next to a window in clothes that hadn't been washed in well over a year. He shifted uncomfortably and clutched his duffle closer to him, before glancing up at the driver. It was the same man who had supplied him with the cell phone, and given him back his things, although the man had not spoken more than a few words to him the entire way up. Under normal circumstances, silence would have suited him just fine but these were not normal circumstances. In fact, it was about as far from normal as it possibly could be.

He looked out the window, which was just a little higher than his line of sight, and shifted uncomfortably against the seat belt. "Where are we going?" He looked back towards the driver.

"North and High."

Altair felt like he had swallowed a spoonful of sand. That had been where the man on the phone had said the bus station was. The bus station where Ezio and the others allegedly were. He had no idea how trustworthy the mysterious voice from the other end of the cellphone was, and his heartbeat was speeding up and his palms were growing more and more sweaty as his mind raced to supply him with all the scenarios that could play out where the man could not be trusted. This whole thing felt very wrong, and not just the fact that he was putting his faith in a man whose face he could not see. Altair had always thought of himself as a loner. He had done fine on his own, and he had liked it that way. Yet here he was, worrying himself sick over the welfare of four other children.

The car continued to rumble over the poorly paved city streets, and Altair clung to his bag tighter than he thought possible. He had already checked through it, to make sure that everything was still there, and he had been more than a little relieved to see they had not taken anything. The ride continued to drag on in total silence, until finally the car pulled to a jerking stop, and the driver unfastened himself and exited the car. Altair slowly unclipped his own seatbelt, and as he reached for the car handle he was very surprised when it opened for him. The driver stood there, holding the car door open, and Altair slid out, pulling his duffle over his shoulder again. He looked up at the driver, and the man stared down at him passively, before reaching deep into his pocket and pulling out a long blue lanyard, with a shining metal key at the end. He thrust it forward, and Altair stumbled to catch it. He held it up by the lanyard and frowned.

"What's this for…?" He glanced up, but the man ignored him and simply circled back around and got back in the car. The engine roared, and it backed up briefly before speeding away down the street.

Altair watched after him with his mouth agape, and then sighed, lifting the lanyard up again to look at the shining key. Engraved into the head of the key were three small numbers, a two a one and a five. "Two fifteen?" Altair mumbled, running his hands along the silver. "Two-hundred and fifteen?" He shrugged and gripped it tightly in his hands before lowering it again. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

And then, as if on cue, activated by his question, the cellphone he had tucked in his pocket began to vibrate and ring. Altair fumbled with the key, shoving it into his pocket and reaching deep into his other to grab the phone. He yanked it from the confines of his jacket and examined it closely. The screen was lit up again, and on the front were the words 'unknown caller'. Altair frowned before tapping the 'accept' button and holding it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"The key you have opens the door to a house on Sandalwood Road."

Altair scowled and shuffled in place. "Oh, I'm fine, how are you?" He muttered sarcastically. The voice on the other end chuckled a little, and Altair suddenly raised his head and began to look around him. "Wait a minute, are you watching me?" He asked, scanning the parking lot for any signs of life.

"In a way, yes." The voice sounded smug. "Smile, you're on camera."

Altair's head snapped up and he turned around, scanning the upper walls of the building. On the far left corner, there was a small security camera pointed directly at him. "You're watching me through a security camera?"

"It's not really important. Now, the key you have…"

"Just who are you?" Altair cut him off. "How did you get me out of police custody? How are you watching me through a security camera."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone, before Altair heard a sigh. "I am a very influential man, Altair. And a valuable ally for you to have, so I suggest you show me some gratitude before I retract my generosity."

"I never said I wasn't grateful." Altair mumbled, shoving his hand into his pocket and gripping the key between his fingers. "What, I can't ask questions?"

"Not ones you're better off not knowing the answers too. Now." The voice sounded curt and slightly put off. "Are you going to let me explain the key or not?"

"Go for it."

"Very good." He heard the man clear his throat. "Now, then. Like I said. That key opens a door to a house on Sandalwood Road. Its house number is two one five, like it says on the key. It's not exactly five star accommodations, but it's out of the cold, so that might be a step up."

"Wait, a house?" Altair frowned. "You're giving me the key to some house?"

"Yes. Sandalwood Road is only a few blocks from where you are now. So go inside, gather your little friends and-"

"We're not going to squat in some abandoned house. That's a social worker call waiting to happen." Altair glared. "Or worse, the police. We're more transient orphans."

"Yes, I'm well aware. Unfortunately, if you want to keep your friends safe, your days of city hopping are over."

"And you've decided that, have you?"

"Look, I'm well aware of the challenges a group of children will be facing living on their own, in a suburban neighborhood. But it's like I said. I am a very influential man. Social workers will be the furthest thing from your mind." The man continued. "I'll provide money for food, and a few luxuries. You won't have to miss another meal, Altair. You won't have to think about those children going days on end without food, or being cold, or glancing over your shoulder all the time."

Altair looked down at the floor, and licked his lips before glancing back up at the bus station. "It does sound like a pretty good deal, but…"

"Being safe, and well fed, and warm… well those things might mean you have to give up a personal freedom or two." The man's voice was slightly colder. "If you want to live in the adult world, you'll have to act like an adult, Altair."

"So if I refuse?"

"Then I call some police and social workers and have them pick you up."

"You're threatening me?"

"It's not really a threat, Altair. My demands are beneficial to you, after all. I'm just trying to keep you safe." The man sighed heavily, and then began to speak again. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. Make the smart choice here, Altair."

There was a small click, and then a dial tone. Altair pulled the phone away from his ear and quickly stuffed it into his pockets. He looked up at the security camera and folded his arms in a huff, giving it the dirtiest look he could muster. He then turned to stare at the front doors of the bus station, and frowned. There was no good explanation for why he was so hesitant, but he found himself very unwilling to move. After a few moments, though it might as well have been an eternity, Altair picked his feet up, and walked into the bus station.

It was as dirty and unkempt as Altair had been expecting it to be. The floors were covered in dirt and grime, and hard deposits of salt that had been laid down on the sidewalks to keep ice from accumulating, and the whole room was lined with dirty wooden benches and a few small coffee tables. The lights overhead were of the pale blue fluorescent variety, and were emitting a high-pitched whine, which was starting to drive Altair crazy. Towards the back of the room, there were several people all slumped up against walls and seats, most of them dozing, though some were reading and doing crosswords. It was there that Altair turned his attention, as he slowly made his way towards the back, scanning the rows and examining the people. At first there was no sign of Ezio or the others, but then again, that was usually the point. Altair had schooled Ezio well in the art of not being seen when they did not want to be seen.

However, Altair was also a master of finding who he was looking for. He spotted Ezio slumped up against a bench, near a couple of adults. His chin was resting against his chest, and his eyes were closed in peaceful slumber. On his lap, nestled deep into his arms was Desmond; the child's face was red and puffy, and snot and tears glistened along his cheeks and upper lip. He was clinging to a fistful of Ezio's jacket, whimpering in a fitful sleep, his legs kicking and twitching ever so slightly. Connor and Aveline were nestled together on the edge of the bench against the armrest, each leaning on the other. Aveline's arms were tucked around Connor's chest, and he held one arm around her shoulders, his head tilted up against her hair. Any passer by would have just assumed they were there with their parents, or waiting for the bus. But naturally, Altair knew better.

He walked over to the bench they all sat on, asleep and raised his foot, slightly knocking it against Ezio's leg. The boy twitched in response, but did not wake up, so Altair kicked him again, a little harder this time. "Ezio. Wake up."

The mention of his friend's name brought his head up, in a startled and still half asleep panic. He looked around him, before his eyes settled on Altair's jacket, and then slowly made their way up to his face. The look of shock on Ezio's face was amusing to say the least. "Altair?"

"Yeah." Altair nodded, and Ezio jumped up, clearly forgetting about the two year old he held nestled in his arms. Desmond dropped a few inches before Ezio got his thoughts together and readjusted his grip on the two year old, lifting him up. The act had startled Desmond awake and he let out a protesting cry, which almost instantly gave way to sobbing as he grabbed more fistfuls of Ezio's coat.

"Altair, you're okay!" Ezio ignored the screaming child, and continued to stare on at Altair, with beaming eyes and the happiest expression Altair had ever seen. Upon this mention, Desmond turned his head and finally caught a glimpse of Altair, and he reacted instantly. He nearly threw himself forwards, extending his arms, and continuing to cry. Altair caught him, startled by the sudden display, and slowly removed him from Ezio's arms. He pulled him up, and held him against his shoulder, which Desmond promptly buried his face into, wrapping his arms around Altair's neck. Altair could not complain, as the act seemed to soothe the child, which meant no more screaming or crying.

"Yeah…" He huffed, adjusting his grip on Desmond. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The entire commotion had been a lot louder and a lot more of a show than Altair had been expecting, and more than a few people were starting to rouse from their sleep to stare at them. This included Connor an Aveline. The two children sat up, looking around, confused and dazed. Connor reached up to rub his eyes and Aveline pulled herself up to look around. She spotted Altair first, and smiled widely.

"Altair!"

Connor looked up, and went wide-eyed at the sight of him. "You're back!"

"Yes. Yes I'm back." Altair spoke in a quiet and strained voice. "Now please, be quiet!"

A hush fell over the group, and Altair slowly sighed and then nodded his head back at the other end of the bus station. "Come on, let's talk outside."

Ezio nodded and stood up, reaching out to help Connor and Aveline up with him. The five of them slowly made their way to the doors of the bus station, and Altair pushed his back up against them, pushing them open and propping them there as the children all filed out. It was slightly warmer on this particular day, and the lack of wind made it much more tolerable outside than it had been only yesterday. When the five of them had all gathered near the wall of the bus station, they all huddled around Altair, except Desmond, who remained placid in the older boy's grip.

"So?" Ezio walked over, holding his hands out beseechingly. "How'd you do it? How'd you get away from the cops?"

Altair frowned and looked around at the eager children, who were clearly expecting some tale of grandiose escape. "They just let me go."

"What?" Ezio blinked. "For real?"

"Yeah…" Altair sighed and shifted. "There was some guy… I guess he must be pretty important. He just got the police to let me walk."

"Really?" Ezio folded his arms. "Wow… That's useful. But, what about that dead guy? And the warehouse? I mean, those cops were shooting at us…"

"Sorry…" Altair glanced down at the ground. "I don't know anymore than I did." He then frowned and glanced down at Connor, who stared up at him in response, with his eyebrow raised. "Hey." Altair, shifted in place. "Did your mom have any friends in the police?"

"What?" Connor blinked heavily, clearly thrown off by the statement. "No, of course not. She always told me I couldn't trust anyone in the police. Why?"

"Just wondering." Altair muttered, furrowing his brow.

Aveline looked up and glanced around at the three older boys that surrounded her, and asked the question that was on everyone else's mind. "So now what do we do?"

"Well…" Altair removed one of his hands from Desmond, supporting him with only one, and reached into his pocket. "I think I have a place for us to go."

"You do?" Ezio frowned, folding his arms.

"Yeah." Altair pulled the long lanyard from his pocket and dangled the key in front of them. "You guys ever squat in an abandoned house before?"

-

The man on the phone had not been lying when he had said that Sandalwood Road was only a few blocks from where they were. It was relatively close to town and a few convenience stores, although the further down they went, the more secluded the place felt. The house they stood in front of now was small and grey, with the shining brass numbers two fifteen nailed to the wall next to the door.

"This place?" Ezio frowned, looking it up and down. "It doesn't look very abandoned to me."

"It's abandoned." Altair looked down at the key in his hand. "Trust me."

"How did you know about this place?" The second eldest of their group eyed him warily, and Altair swallowed heavily under the scrutinizing gaze.

"I just did, alright?" He gripped the key tightly in his fingers, and very slowly made his way up to the front door. It was a large cedar door, with black peeling paint, and a very small triangular window towards the top. Altair took a deep breath, and shoved the key into the small golden lock that sat a few inches over a dirty metal doorknob, and turned. It was an effort to get the lock to turn, but after a while it opened with a thunk, and Altair was able to pull the key out. He looked back at the group of kids who stood a little ways behind him, and slowly pushed the door inwards and stepped inside.

It wasn't a nice house by any stretch of the imagination. It looked as though it was ready to fall apart at the hinges at any second, and crash all around them. When the man on the phone had said 'not exactly five stars', Altair had at least expected three stars. Maybe two and a half.

"This is where we're going to squat?" Ezio walked in behind him, running a hand on one of the water stains that lined the walls. "Its um… nice?"

"This place is a dump." Connor walked in ahead of him.

"Yeah, well…" Altair folded his arms. "Its safe here, at least."

"How do you know that?" Ezio frowned at him.

"I just do, okay?"

Connor and Aveline both began to poke around through the living area, and began to explore the hallway that connected to it. Ezio walked up beside Altair as he shut the door, and Altair felt Desmond's small fingers close around his pant leg. He put a hand on top of the child's head, and looked over at his friend who was staring at him with folded arms. Altair sighed and shook his head.

"Look, its got running water, electricity… a heating system…" He looked over at the heater on the wall. "Sort of."

"Yeah, I know, Altair but…" Ezio sighed. "We're not going to stay here long, are we?"

"I don't know, Ezio…"

Then suddenly they both heard Aveline let out a shrill cry, and the girl tore from the back room, running through the hall and grabbing onto Ezio, hugging him around the knees and burying her face into his stomach. Ezio gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, and Altair looked up prepared to be horrified by whatever was back there that had made the girl run… When Connor came running out, holding something small and furry in his hands.

"Look! I found a rat!" He beamed, running his hand along the creature's fur. "Can I keep it?"

Ezio stared down at the rodent in Connor's hands, and then turned to look at Altair, with a look that spoke exactly what the younger boy was trying to convey. Altair just sighed and put a hand on Aveline's head, patting it, and looking back up at Ezio.

"Not too long, I hope." He muttered.

I'm loving this prompt so much!!! I'm so glad it updated. Your twists on cannon events are so clever and I can't wait for more! :-)

hurry! i need!!!!

OMG!!!! YES!!!!

This will be a series of very short chapters. There will be creepiness and flashbacks to the King threatening his soon-to-be-Consort.

How Connor had come to be in this situation was not important. It had involved hostages and people he loved at gunpoint and the Apple of Eden, and it had finished with Connor being lead into the King's palace, and shown to a grand room. There was a huge four-poster bed, with drapes. A small dressing-room and a walk-in-wardrobe already filled with expensive-looking clothes. The other items of furniture were lavish and in some ways outright gaudy.

He did not like it.

Unfortunately, it did not particularly matter what he liked or did not like. The King wanted an exotic new pet or trophy or something equally degrading, and he wanted his new possession's high status to be obvious to everybody. He'd even had a secondary throne constructed next to his own. A smaller, less lavish throne, but a throne nonetheless.

It made Connor sick.

The King (he would not call him Washington, he was not the man Connor once had known in another world) made a concentrated effort to be sugar-sweet as he showed Connor round the palace, a twisted thank you.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Connor wanted so badly to snarl "set me free", but he knew that would only end badly. He had agreed to this, after all- reluctantly agreed, agreed because there had been no other choice, agreed only to prevent unnecessary death but agreed all the same.

"You could give me a task to complete. I do not like doing nothing, sir."

That had, in hindsight, been a mistake. The King was delighted, and agreed set him small jobs- things like helping his clerks with accounting and French for half an hour or so at a time, when he was not required in Court.

"Anything for my Queen," the King said. "And it's George, by the way. Not 'sir'."

Connor nodded politely, and continued to avoid calling him by name.

Connor soon leant that the King talked a lot. He would often lounge upon his throne, and ramble at length about how he had searched for so long for a worthy Queen.

"The Apple showed me that you were the one," the King said, smiling reverently at nothing. Connor watched him from the corner of his eye, sitting stiffly in the formal outfit the King had picked out for him the evening before. It was a simple affair compared to the rest of his wardrobe, a white lace shirt with blue silk waistcoat, cream breeches and a royal blue jacket, offset with silver accents and details.

Connor said nothing, and wished he could properly tie back his hair. That morning's Lady-in-Waiting had been ordered to pin it in a delicate half-chignon, and the King had been overjoyed at the result. It had not been even a whole week, and Connor was already sick of the King and of this false freedom that had been forced upon him.

"We'll need to have a proper coronation for you, of course. It'll give the citizens something more to celebrate."

"Why would they celebrate? They hate me." Connor ignored the King's glare. To the people in the cities, he was nothing more than a savage. Even before this nightmare with the Red Willow and the Mad King, he had been nothing to them, despite his efforts to save them.

"You're the Queen," the King said, on the verge of losing himself in frustration. "The citizens will be delighted to see you."

"They will curse us," Connor argued. "I am no queen. I am a man, I was their enemy."

"They will cheer because I am their monarch and you are my consort!" the King snapped. "You are the Queen because I am the King, and you are whatever I say you are!"

Connor did not argue. The King was clearly unhinged. To push any further would likely result in something terrible happening to the village, to his people. He'd only just gotten them back, he would not be responsible for their deaths.

"I hope you do not expect me to wear a dress to the ceremony," Connor ceded, after a minute. The King was silent a moment before chuckling.

"No, I don't," he said. "But rest assured I'll choose beautiful clothes for you-- not that your clothes aren't already beautiful."

Connor bit his tongue to stop himself pointing out loudly that the King chose all his clothes anyway, so it didn't make any difference.

PossibleWriter!Anon from above here. It's going to be WITH Plot Twist! But I am most certainly doing it. :)

A/N: The last part of this chapter, in which I do not give Connor a break. BTW, I'm going to try to wrap this story up before the last week of the month. Going to be going on vacation for a few weeks, and there will be little to no internet access >_< so may not be updating GSTQ or Shattered for awhile, we'll see.

Connor didn't intend to answer, just kept his eyes down to avoid the semi-curious stares of his father and husband who still had yet to vacate the room. Really, why were they still here? Did they really find the sight of their once fearsome enemy, reduced to a trembling mess, so amusing? Connor tried to sit still, staring at their feet and hoped they would just accept his silence and leave. However, it was only when he saw a familiar set of shoes - Charles' shoes - begin to approach, he began to speak.

"No, I was not planning on having children. Well, at least not until a few years from now." Not until I had eliminated all of you, Connor added as an afterthought to himself. "But my heat came earlier than expected." Which his loving husband had taken complete advantage of.

"Does this happen often?"

"No, not often. However, sometimes when..."

Connor hesitantly began to describe certain situations when his heat came unexpectedly, all usually when he was out working. The Omega wasn't sure why he added in details such as hunting, tracking, and reconnaissance, as more words spilled from his lips. Maybe he was also curious about this irregular heat. Or simply he didn't want to be left alone with Charles so soon. Or perhaps to show them that, even he could be a good Omega, and they would ease up on tormenting him and his friends (where ever they were being held).

He stopped abruptly upon finally noticing the shade of red his husband was turning. Perhaps it was out of embarrassment that they were discussing something as intimate as Connor's heat. But the Omega was fairly certain it had something to do with Washington when he made that slip about how the Commander had discovered him - protected and comforted him while he was at his most vulnerable... Oh, George - he suddenly felt too drained to care at the moment.

"I see... " Church spoke finally while also noting the color Charles' was becoming, while the Grandmaster's frown was less obvious. "Well stress and danger is most likely the cause of such irregularities."

As an Assassin trapped in the enemy's den, it certainly explained it. Even though his life wasn't in any danger, he was constantly worried over the wellbeing of George, his friends, and the Homestead residents. Did that mean his cycle would always be irregular? Assuming he wasn't already...

"When will I know if I'm..." Connor couldn't bring himself to finish his question, suddenly feeling light headed.

"Pregnant? It is difficult to tell when the pregnancy is at this early stage. In the first two months, the fetus is quite small, so we won't know simply by looking at you. But during this time you'll start missing heats, feeling ill and fatigued..."

Which the Omega Assassin already felt as he gripped his knees to cease their shaking. Ready or not, he was going to be a mother. Mother... to think, within a couple of weeks time, he'll know whether or not he would be a mother.

The mother of Lee's child.

"...Advise not to skip meals," the Templar Doctor was saying. For some reason he sounded distant. It was as if Church was speaking in another room. "It's also important to get plenty of rest and not overexert yourself."

A heavy hand fell upon Connor's shoulder, and the Omega flinched and slowly looked up at his husband. His vision swam. His eyes watered as they strained to focus.

"No worries," Charles' voice echoed in his ears. "I'll take exceptionally good care of the mother of my child."

He was going to be the mother of a potential Templar Grandmaster.

An Alpha gifted with Eagle Vision, and would use that power to control, dominate, and strike down any who opposed the Order.

Another cruel and merciless Haytham Kenway.

The Master Assassin would soon give birth to the destruction of his Brotherhood.

Suddenly it all became too much. His vision darkened. He could barely hear their voices calling out to him, as he fainted dead away.

The piece of Eden sends him on a strange journey.

Desmond is Dorothy. Dress and all.

Altair is the Tin Man.

Ezio is the scarecrow.

Connor is the lion.

This!!!! Has made my day!!!!! Thank you!

I was beginning to think it would never happen! My hope is renewed!!!!

What if instead of Washington getting the Apple of Eden, Haytham Kenway got a hold of it? Connor wakes up in a lovely mansion, with fine clothes, and servants who all address him as Young Master Kenway. Upon further investigation, it is revealed that Haytham seems to think he raised Connor, and that Connor is a templar, and a rather high ranking one at that. Oh, and on a side note, the Templars rule over the colonies with an iron fist.

The DLC rules are the same, Connor remembers everything about being an Assassin and such, but he seems to be the only one who remembers the real world. And now he has to figure out how to stop his father, and set the world right again. Will he try to reason with Haytham, or resort to force right away?

Also, some bonus points if all the Templars act really buddy buddy with him, especially Charles Lee, and are really surprised and can't figure out why Connor suddenly hates them so badly. Also, its up to you how Haytham deals with Connor's sudden betrayal of the Templar ways. He didn't handle Church's betrayal all that well, so...

Oh, and Haytham declares himself Emperor. Because King Kenway just sounds silly.

Also, also. No smut, please. I'd like the focus to be on the story, and not on any pairings.

I second it!!!!

I lied! This is going to end up being more than three parts. Oops. Also, OP, I apologize if the updates are slow! I hadn't been expecting this to turn into a multi-parter, so I've been rotating my writing time between all the WIPs I have ahahaha.;; Anyway, sorry for the delay, and enjoy! ♥

***

The thing that bothered him the most about Q Branch was the dog smell that permeated the area. It wasn’t especially strong (and was thankfully not the scent of wet dog), but Haytham could never help but wrinkle his nose each time he stepped foot into the division. When the quartermaster would inquire about why he always seemed so unhappy to be in the area, he’d always sidestep the question by asking about the closest looking item (preferably one that seemed dangerous and explosive) or picking it up and causing mass panic in the area.

(Haytham would admit, under pressure, that he took quite a bit of pleasure from terrorizing the individuals who worked in Q Branch.)

Greeted by three Pomeranians, today’s visit seemed to be no different from the norm. They wagged their tails, one of them even yipping at him, and Haytham gave the dogs a weak smile, desperately hoping that none of them would try jumping on his leg and getting fur all over his suit. (Having dog hair all over oneself was decidedly not threatening and tended to kill the mood in the bedroom as well.) Really, the quartermaster was lucky that M had allowed the blasted creatures here; that was favoritism, no doubt about it!

“Ah, Kenway!” Q said, waving a hand from behind an array of shelves. “Over here! I’m just about done with my newest project.”

Curious, Haytham made his way over, hands clasped behind his back. Gaze sweeping over the worktable, there wasn’t anything obviously military about the spread there, unless Q was working with exploding paper and that pair of scissors morphed into something a little more deadly. (Haytham wouldn’t completely discount the possibility, seeing as the man had come up with a Swiss Army sandwich before--very original but, sadly, not very practical.) “Is it anything I can use? M told me to come see you before I head off.”

At that, Q opened his mouth to say something, gave him an odd smile, and then winked, holding up what appeared to be a... scrapbook? Filled with photographs of Pomeranians? “Not quite.” Haytham took the item and flipped through it, eyebrows slowly rising toward his hairline. “Those would be all of the dogs that made it to Crufts this year.” And by all of the dogs, Q clearly meant the Pomeranians, as there weren’t any other breeds present in the book. “Prince John Barker of Woofington here won best in class.

“It was his second time to be shown there, and I must say that that extra year was all it took for him to really start to shine. You see, his coloring took a bit of time to mature and--”

“Q?”

“Yes?”

“Did you have anything for me?” He offered his best smile and hoped that he was being gentle enough. Creating a scrapbook seemed like some sort of coping mechanism on the quartermaster’s part, and Haytham hated the idea of discomforting the man. After all, if even M was telling him to step carefully around Q, then he’d do well to be on his best behavior; there would be time enough later on to tease him about his canine obsession.

Q blinked, his train of thought derailed, before adjusting to the shift in conversation. The quartermaster deflated, and for a moment, Haytham thought that he’d have to show a sudden interest in dogs before Q rebounded. “Ah, yes, just a moment.” He took the scrapbook back, placing it carefully on the shelf, before hurrying deeper into the workshop, a small entourage of dogs on his heels; Haytham would never cease to be amazed that the quartermaster never tripped over his own pets. “It’s not as interesting as the showing at Crufts, but...

“I believe this is what you’re looking for?” Q continued as he came back, holding an envelope and a small, black case. “The usual documents, including your passport, a ticket to Taipei, a Walther PPK, and a small, distress-signal radio.” He offered 007 a small, brief smile. “Not that you’ll be needing it, of course.”

Haytham returned the gesture and looked inside the case, noting with some amusement that the radio was shaped and colored like Spado, his tail serving as the on and off switch. There was just one other thing that he’d been hoping for, and he stood waiting, expectant. It took a moment, but Q figured it out, eerily in tune with Haytham’s thought processes as he was sometimes. With a knowing smile on his lips, he held up a hand, disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared with another box. “And here are few extra magazines.”

His lips quirked into another smile. Much better. After that last fiasco in Johannesburg, Haytham was definitely not going back into the field with so few rounds. Certainly, it probably dropped his cool factor a few points, but in this instance, he’d accept a bit more survivability over that. After all, it was rather hard to impress people when one was, ah, dead.

“Is there anything else you need?” Q asked, hands clasped in front of him. He was wearing an over-eager look on his face, the one that said that he wanted to be talking about his dogs again but wasn’t because he was trying to be professional. Oh, on occasion, that face meant that Q sought to force some new device on him, but that was much more uncommon.

Maybe he’d indulge the quartermaster one of these days over a cup of tea, but... Today was not that day. Haytham had documents to go over, equipment to examine, plans to formulate, and a lovely lady to daydream about; there simply was no time to linger about.

“An evening to pack and a full night’s rest,” he replied, giving Q a lazy smile and patting him on the shoulder. The quartermaster sighed quietly and nodded his head in understanding.

“Of course, sir. Safe travels and--” Haytham smirked, already expecting the words that would follow. “--Try to bring back your equipment in one piece.”

It was all too much for poor Connor.

//pets Connor//

Poor baby...

He's well and utterly trapped, and he's not seeing a way out. And you can tell that the last thing that he's trying to fight for is his friends and Washington.

Such delicious angst...I like it's a bit subtle. :D

Btw, totally exhausted today. Will update Strange Fates tomorrow. Too tired to think at this point.

Poor Connor!!!! Like what I'm reading so far.

Crack-fic
It's Halloween and Desmond and gang are bored and taking a break from the animus. Rebecca somehow gets her hands on a replica of Altair's outfit and forces Desmond to wear it in the sake of 'Halloween spirit.' Everyone is amused, Desmond is not (making him seem more like Altair). Unfortunately, they then get a lead on where a shard of Eden could be and that the Templers were closing in. They have to go right away, like NOW. Giving poor Des no time to change. Cue Desmond killing templers looking like Altair, trolling them all. Templers freak out. Vidic has a heart attack. Desmond has fun.

PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE THIS FOR ME.

GAWD.
THIS.
SECONDED.

Make Sean toto!!!!

Juno can be the wicked witch!!!!

So, I filled one I figured I would request one now, and I just can't get this out of my head.

I want Connor and clipper to be completely awkwardly in love with each other, and they don't know what to do about it. Clipper is confused about his feelings towards a man, and Connor couldn't care less about his gender, but can't figure out how to even begin courting him, and it's starting to affect, there team work.

and that's all I got, it is up to writer!anon to finish it.

Ooh! Seconded.

I can't help but think the other recruits would end up staging some sort of intervention, after many hilarious failed attempts at teaching Connor how to date and telling Clipper that gay is ok...

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Page 274 of 385

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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