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
Part 3
Part 4
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The comment limit is the same as LJ's (10,000 comments per entry.) So I figured the same rules would be in place.

I lol'd at Washington's 'capture'. Poor man must be befuddled by all the assassin stuff - haystacks, Eagle visions and turkeys...

So all that ado with Biddle was just an act, eh. As expected from Connor, I guess. Though I really wonder if some Templar might actually catch Connor's attentions...

Another Anon here who got really excited about the gibberish emails that turned out to be stupid Juno. That disapointment helped spawn this. It's only a sort-of beginning, but this anon doesn't really know where to take it from here. Hopefully other anons will have more story/ideas so that the prompt can be filled properly!

-----

Shaun yawned and tried to rub the gritty feeling from the corners of his eyes. Rebecca was finishing a tune-up on the primary heat-sink module, and would take over for him in another ten minutes or so. The desktop gave a quiet ping as Desmond accessed one of the database entries, and Shaun pushed his glasses back into place as he finished an initial file on William Johnson and queued it up for the database.

Bill’s footsteps were quiet, but Shaun could hear the echoes as he came over to join them. He’d been spending a lot of time observing the Precursor generator room, or whatever it was supposed to be, and that was probably where he’d come from. Not that there were a lot of places to hide in the cavern, unless one felt like exploring a bottomless hole in the ground.

“That’s the second time it’s overloaded, isn’t it?” Bill asked, and Rebecca grunted as the heat-sink’s casing gave a loud snap.

“Yeah,” She agreed, hauling it back over next to Shaun. “There’s nothing wrong with it, the Animus just keeps going into these crazy high activity cycles whenever Desmond first goes in, and by the time I can switch to the backup this one’s nearly burnt out.”

“Is it Haytham?”

Rebecca got to her knees and started pulling apart the outer casing. “Dunno.”

“Well, not unless he’s trying to sabotage us from beyond the grave.” Shaun remarked and jumped as Rebecca practically head butted his knee. He glanced over at Bill and ducked his head a little at the look being shot at him. “Only joking.”

“I haven’t really been able to take a good look since we’re still in the middle of setting up.” Rebecca explained, and the desk jumped as she shoved her shoulder against the heat sink to pop it into place.

“What do you think it is?” Bill pressed, giving her a hand and helping her to her feet.

Rebecca bit her lip uncertainly and leaned over Shaun, invading his space and taking over the keyboard without even a by-your-leave. Shaun huffed and refused to roll his chair over on principle. She typed in a few quick commands and a white-on-blue text file popped up. Shaun recognized a few of the lines but Rebecca was already scrolling by.

“Here,” She stopped and pointed. “It looks like the system is trying to access a file that was backed up previously, but for some reason it can’t. There might be a repeating access command somewhere else in here, so the Animus keeps trying to load the file even though…”

She trailed off, her finger no longer pointing at any specific section, and when Shaun looked her eyes were skipping all over the screen.

“Rebecca?” Shaun asked, leaning forward to try and catch her peripheral vision.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, scrolling back up to a random point, then back down to where she’d been before. “This is…”

“Rebecca. What is it?” Bill’s voice was sharp but his hand was delicate as he laid it on her shoulder. Rebecca jolted like she’d been shocked, looking at the hand, then over at Desmond for some reason.

“Should we shut the Animus off until you can fix it?” Shaun asked cautiously, and Rebecca shook her head as if to clear it.

“No, I think I know how to stop it. I just need to copy it to another drive and I can work on it on the spare system.” She smiled quickly at Shaun but it dropped the second she looked back at the text file. “I’ll take over for you, go get some shuteye.”

Shaun held a yawn back behind his teeth as he relinquished his seat. “Right. Let me know how it goes.”

He shared a look with Bill as Rebecca pulled up three different windows and started attaching cords between the primary and secondary terminals. Bill’s eyes narrowed, but he sighed and shook his head. It was better to leave her to it, but Bill would keep an eye on her and Desmond. Shaun nodded and headed toward the shining barrier where he’d abandoned his sleeping bag.

-----

Sender: 0011000100110110
Subject: 0011000100110111

01000100011001010111001101101101011011110110111001100100

Shaun’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the strange email. It had been a while since he’d last needed to use binary for anything, and it took him two false starts and his finger tracing the lines before he got it translated.

Rebecca was nearly nodding off in her seat as Shaun turned around. “Do you know anything about this?”

“‘Bout what?” She asked, keeping her voice down since both Desmond and Bill had already fallen asleep for the night.

“Check your mail.” He prompted her, then stared when she froze.

In the next second she leaped up and charged over to the secondary terminal Shaun had been using, practically shoving him aside in her haste to see the screen.

“Rebecca!” He started to shout, then remembered the sleeping assassins just beyond the Animus. “What the hell are you doing? That’s my email, my personal, private email!”

She completely ignored him, a manic grin overtaking her face. “You did it. You crazy bastard, you did it!”

“What are you talking about? Why is someone sending emails in binary about Desmond? And stop shouting, you’ll wake the others.” Shaun waved his hand in front of her face to get her attention, but she was too busy typing a reply, in his email, to respond.

“Too late.” Shaun nearly had a heart attack as Desmond appeared at his shoulder, looking at Rebecca sending an email composed entirely in binary with bleary eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You saved him, Desmond!” Rebecca hissed, pointing to the screen where the original email was showing.

Desmond looked at it for a second, glanced at Shaun with an amused curl to his lips, then smiled at Rebecca. “I can’t read ones and zeros. Who did I save?”

“Sixteen?” Shaun asked, rereading the sender’s alias. “Rebecca, you can’t mean…”

Desmond twitched.

“The file, Shaun! The one that kept trying to execute? It was trying to run on an older version of the Animus firmware, and once I used a patch I cobbled together on it, it started working properly.” She laughed, exhilarated. “And when it started talking to me I thought I’d gone crazy, but it’s really him!”

The inbox button lit up then, and Rebecca pounced on the mouse to click it. Another one. Shaun didn’t even get a chance to start translating before Rebecca was reading it out loud.

“I have to thank Desmond. He needs a guardian angel.” She turned around, then started to falter when neither of them seemed enthused. “What should I reply?”

A muscle in Desmond’s jaw jumped. “Send: there’s no such thing.”

Rebecca seemed taken aback, and her fingers hesitated over the keys. “Are you sure?”

“If it’s him, he’ll know what it means.” Desmond confirmed, crossing his arms. Shaun scoffed, looking between the two as Rebecca turned back around to translate and send the reply.

“You can’t be taking this seriously.” He insisted. He groaned when they both ignored him, waiting for a reply. “Rebecca, how do you know it’s not a Trojan virus and you’re inviting Abstergo or who knows what in?”

“She knows what she’s doing Shaun.” Desmond defended, which made Shaun roll his eyes.

“You don’t know a pop-up from a worm, you have no idea what-” But his skepticism didn’t stop him from cutting himself off when a new message appeared in the inbox. Shaun had enough time to translate ‘hah’ before Rebecca turned back around again and cut off his line of sight.

“He just laughs for a while, then says ‘I was wrong. You get into too much trouble.’”

Desmond stared at her, then backed away and lowered himself into the desk chair. “He’s not dead.”

Shaun blinked. “Well, technically he’s still dead, if it is him. He’s just, well… conscious.”

“‘He’ who?” Bill voice cut through their earpieces. Shaun opened his mouth, then looked to Rebecca who seemed frozen.

Desmond slowly lifted his hand to his ear. “Clay. Clay’s alive. Rebecca found him.”

-----

“For the record: this is a terrible idea.” Shaun glanced at Desmond as he booted up the Animus’ main systems.

“Yup,” Desmond agreed as he sat back in the chair. “As ideas go, this one sucks pretty hard.”

Rebecca snorted from the other terminal as she triple-checked the connections. “Oh please, sucking hard is awesome.”

Shaun choked back a laugh as Bill wrinkled his nose. Desmond nodded thoughtfully and grinned. “‘Kay, then this idea bites hard.” He corrected.

“Kinky.” Rebecca smirked. “We’re ready as we’ll ever be. Time for you to do your thing, Desmond.”

Shaun activated the Animus, putting Desmond under. “Yes, let’s hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t particularly feel like having my eyes stabbed out by a mind-controlled Rebecca.”

The Apple gleamed in Desmond’s hand. His voice, slightly synthesized, came from the speakers. “So, no pressure then. Here goes.”

It was like a whisper of light rippled over Desmond’s body, and Shaun couldn’t help the flinch he gave. The last time he’d seen light like that, he had to arrange a funeral in Italy. The light didn’t spread though; it didn’t reach out and freeze him so that he could watch a friend die out of the corner of his eye. Instead it seemed to form a shell around Desmond. It wavered and almost disappeared, but Desmond’s hand flexed weakly and the shell of light solidified and sat up.

Colour seeped in as it separated from Desmond, an exact copy of him except for the black hoodie. It stood lifelessly, more manikin than clone. Shaun could hear Rebecca typing, but he doubted it would do any good. At this point it was all on Desmond, the Animus, and the Piece of Eden.

It blinked. Shaun half-stood to see its face better and it blinked again. Its eyes focused on the distant energy barrier, then shifted to the doorway to the generator room, then to him. It blinked again, and Shaun stood up properly as it started scrutinizing him.

Desmond groaned as he disconnected from the Animus and the copy tried to turn its head but lost its balance and stumbled. It caught itself on the desk, which Shaun quickly braced from the other side so it wouldn’t slide out from under it. Desmond was up, light from the Apple glistening over his hand as he braced his identical twin and helped it stand up straight again.

“Dd-” It grunted, one hand tangled in the front of Desmond’s white hoodie. “Dd-ss-n-”

“I got you, man.” Desmond reassured it, and it let out a huff of air that was almost a laugh.

“Here, sit him down.” Shaun got a hold of himself and lifted the desk chair over the cords in the way. Rebecca came up to the desk, staring unabashedly at the copy. Desmond braced it as it gingerly sat down.

“Welcome back, Clay.” Bill said gently. The copy’s eyes immediately focussed on him, and a disturbing smile grew on its face. The noise it made was somewhere between a scream and a sob.

-----

I fucking loved this. Short, but sweet! I like to imagine that Clay had a happy ending...

heh, I keep coming back hoping someone will have filled this. :p
Luckily I saved the link for the picture! Here you go anon-

http://crowthis.tumblr.com/post/47143275327/wow-so-washington-and-lafayette-had-the-most

I keep looking for more of these guys but there just isn't anything. :(((

Good catch
mod's computer broke a few days ago and mod will try to make a new part sometime tonight!
Thank you for your continued support eventho I'm more neglectful than Haytham was to Connor u-u

There will be no more request for part 5! Please go back and fill as many prompts as possible.

"Swear to me three things," the King said. "Three things and you'll never need worry about your village again."

"What are they?" Connor croaked. Despite the King's promises, he could not stop himself continually glancing back at the men and women and children held at gunpoint.

"Firstly, you will never raise a hand against me. Secondly, you will aid and assist me to the best of your abilities. Thirdly, you will honour and obey me, as a Queen ought to obey her King."

Connor opened his mouth, to argue the finer points of the last oath in particular. The King put a finger to his lips.

"Ssh. I don't mean I'll order you about. You'll still have autonomy and you can make your own decisions. But everything you do, you do for me and this land. We'll work together. Create an empire stronger than any before it."

The King smiled, clearly enthralled with his glorious vision of the future. Connor shut his eyes for a moment, before nodding. He had no choice. He could not be responsible for a genocide.

"I swear," he said. The King beamed.

"Wonderful!"

Connor was grabbed by two bluecoat soldiers and hauled to his feet. He found he could not bring himself to look anybody from his village in the eyes as he was dragged away. He wasn't sure why- was he afraid of their pity? That they would be disgusted? The reminder that the King murdered his mother?

He wasn't sure, and despite having naught to do but dwell on such thoughts during the long carriage ride to the King's mostly-constructed palace in New York, he came to no conclusions.

Desmond had known the instant he'd entered that bakery that something was wrong. The air had felt stale, and the scent of something sour had washed over him not long after that thought. He had known the smell, the crustiness of the air, the sour stench as what it was - fear. He had known that something was wrong when the baker wasn't there, and shop silent despite the fact that there was a customer waiting. Nobody came to help him. That more than anything should have told him what was going on.

But he had chosen to stay despite all that because hey, he was hungry and unwilling to walk the next three blocks to get something. If Desmond was William, he would have told himself he was a fucking idiot for ignoring the signs. He would have said that living by himself away from the Family for so long had made him complacent, made him forget the years of training the elders had beat into his head like sticks on a war drum. He had been a fucking moron, walking into that bakery and refusing to walk back out. He had been a threat to the Family when he'd gone around the back and found the owner of the shop being gutted while two men raped his wife. He had been just plain suicidal when he'd yanked the men away and started beating the shit out of them.

The men were a rival Family attempting to move in on the turf Desmond had claimed, an area that William had told him needed a guardian. Desmond wanted out of the Family, wanted his own life and freedom, and William had pointed him down there. He was starting to regret that decision. Especially when it landed him in a prison for rape and murder, neither of which he'd committed. And just to add even more insult, the head of his Family, the Boss had the audacity to call and tell him that everyone had been taking bets on how he'd finally end up doing his 'time'. Apparently his brothers had won a pretty good sized haul with the murder conviction ("It's always the quiet ones that snap first, baby bro," Clay had told him one evening during training. "And you're about as quiet as they come.") but the rape was a threat of a different flavor, and after being scolded over it (despite Desmond telling him he hadn't done jack shit besides be at the wrong place at the wrong time) the Boss told him to at least 'get a room' next time he wanted to explore.

And then he'd hung up.

For the longest time, all Desmond could do was stare at the phone in disbelief. He was grateful when the guard finally took him back to his cell, where he laid down and starting thinking hard about what he needed to do. Part of him was terrified - he knew the stories of what went on in prison - but the rest of him was cool and collecting, listing off names and numbers of men that were currently in the jailhouse for something. He must have run down at least three dozen before he finally remembered the people that could actually help him and keep the rest of the sex-hungry loons from making his life hell.

Altair Ibn' la-Ahad. A cousin on his father's side, with enough backbone and bite to stop the world exploding. He was the current pick for next Boss, and had enough people following him to keep pretty decent connections. If Altair was here, Desmond was willing to bet Ezio and Connor wouldn't be too far behind -- Ezio had always needed a firm hand to keep him in line, and Connor just wanted to be needed. Desmond had grown up with all of them, but after he had turned ten they had all gone their separate ways. Altair and the others had stayed around the main house to help the Boss and make their own paths and reputations, while Desmond had sought freedom. Hell who was he kidding, he was still looking for freedom.

The difference was now, that freedom was leashed. The only thing Desmond could control was who held the leash, who he had to obey and kneel to. The wardens were one thing, but Altair would be another. Desmond had no hesitations in believing that Altair would take care of his own, and if Desmond met the criteria for 'errand boy' he might very well be able to work his way up enough to earn that care.

First though, he needed to find Altair. Tomorrow morning he would begin his search. He could only hope that Altair wasn't too far away - or too low in power to do anything.

Yeah...I wanted to make that scene as destructive as possible. It was pretty awful for Connor, but then it's all pretty awful for Connor. He has absolutely no say in what happens to his body, and it's devastating for him.

In another world, where they weren't mortal enemies and they didn't have all that history, then Connor may have well been charmed by them. But they have too much history at this point for Connor to ever feel love for them. Respect, yes, but it's too late for any inkling of love on his part.

Charles feels a bit differently because Connor hasn't really been on his radar until recently. Charles has been on Connor's mind since he was 5, but Charles didn't really think him significant until shortly before the prison.

:D

I <3 Yusuf. He's such a little scoundrel. And yes, George will be tempted not to burn it, but he'll remember the danger Connor is in and follow directions.

//hugs Yusuf//

"My mentor thought that I should..." he managed to say even though thinking of Achilles while he was helplessly pinned underneath his (more than likely) murderer, made him sick. "He said that I come from a long line of Assassins, and despite my father, I should be proud of that."

"Hmm... the old man was a sentimental fool, always..."

"Do not speak ill of the dead."

Weary blue eyes narrowed at the abrupt command and the body above him stilled. Connor managed to suppress a whimper as the large hand wrapped around his cock, tightened a little in warning. Swallowing hard, the Master Assassin stared evenly up at his enemy's disapproving face.

"We Assassins have been taught to respect the dead and the dying, despite the crimes our enemies had committed while they lived, they deserve to rest in peace."

"I am a Templar, boy. I do not share your sentiments. However..." The corner of Charles' mouth twitched, he clearly did not like being preached to, but he also appeared too tired to argue anymore at this point. "I will not speak of your Achilles again."

Mollified by that, Connor looked away as Lee began to move once more. The Omega winced and held back whimpers of pain and pleasure, as Charles leaned down to gently suckle upon one of his nipples, a sharp contrast to the harsh rhythm of the Alpha's hips. He clawed at the mattress, panting heavily behind clenched teeth as the hand around his erection pumped in time with those deep thrusts that drove him into the bed.

The pace became more erratic as the Templar was in a hurry to finish before his stamina depleted. Connor was also eager to be done with his wifely duties for the night. So he didn't resist as Charles' mouth closed over his own, or when the Alpha reached around to grab his arse.

Hands kneaded his quivering flesh. The throbbing cock embedded so deeply inside him, began to rub against that sensitive cluster of nerves again, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his groin. He gave in, lifting up his legs so that his thighs bracketed Charles' waist, bucking against those powerful thrusts until his climax was finally ripped from him.

His husband followed immediately after, crying out against Connor's ear before collapsing heavily upon him. The half-native grunted at the large heavy frame crushing him into the mattress, and hoped its owner did not plan on falling asleep then and there. Soon the panting breaths against the side of his face slowed and evened. Much to his relief, Charles finally withdrew from his body and quickly rolled off of him.

While remaining perfectly still, Connor glanced over at his mate who was fast asleep, if that loud snore was anything to go by. Refusing to make a sound or even move a muscle, he watched the Alpha cautiously while counting the minutes in his head. Once a substantial amount of time had past, and he was certain the other male wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, the Assassin slowly climbed out of bed. Ignoring the familiar ache from his backside and the sickening sensation of Charles' liquids dripping down his thighs, he leaned down and snatched up the robe he had kept close to the bed and hurriedly put it on.

Bare feet silently padded over to the pile of the General's clothes that lay scattered on the floor. While keeping his eyes fixated on the slumbering form on the bed, his hands quickly searched through each and every pocket. At first, the Assassin was frustrated by the number of things Lee kept on his person. But once his hand enclosed over a set of keys, did he sigh quietly in relief.

With his eyes still trained on the slack and softened face of his slumbering husband, he quickly and quietly backed away to exit the bedroom. He took and held a deep breath as he slowly unlocked and managed to open the door without making a sound. The hallway was pitch black, but not a problem for the Assassin as his hunter's eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness.

He took one last look at the sleeping Templar, before finally stepping out of his designated prison cell, and closed the door softly behind him.

So suspenseful...

:O

I wonder what Connor will find. I hope it's worth his little diversionary tactic and what it cost him to implement it.

Poor baby.

//pets Connor//

I think I rewrote the second half of this chapter about a dozen times. 8(

Anyway, uh. Many, many thanks to everyone for your continued support! I'll admit that I tend to work a lot better with one-shots, so thank you so much for cheering me on this entire time! It keeps my spirits buoyed and helps me through any rough patches or writer's block I may run into. :) Haha, I just wish I could write a bit faster for you all. So yes! Enjoy! ♥ Hopefully my headache with the latter part of this chapter isn't too evident. ;)

Day Two Hundred
Having the boy around the Kenway residence for so long had made his son’s inclusion in the Order easier than he could have ever imagined. The men he counted as his aides accepted Connor as a Templar with little to no fuss, and while part of it might have been the severity of his words and expression, Haytham had no doubt that some of them had come to trust his son, had come to see his presence at their meetings as a sign of good will.

Using Gilbert Rogers was a good idea, too.

Now that the man was, at last, well enough to speak without overexerting himself, Haytham had gone on to regale Rogers with tales of how Connor had stood watch over him, lest anyone came to try and finish Charles’ good work. Oh, his story had not been entirely true, but it was enough for Rogers and, with his enthusiasm, good enough for the rest of the Templars. As for the boy...

Connor played his part well, accepting his role with open arms--after all, this was to protect his blasted Brotherhood and Homestead. He had spent enough time destroying Haytham’s personal library and mingling with his men--had spent enough time around him--to understand the Templar mentality to flawlessly pretend to be one of them, and in the few, quiet moments he had to himself, Haytham could not help but wonder if it really was an act, such was the perfection of his son’s performance.

He would not allow himself to dwell on hopes and dreams though; there were other matters to be taken care of, more lies to be woven.

The most pressing of these was, of course, making sure that those at the Homestead would go along with the ruse. After all, what good would it be if the Templars arrived, only to have to slaughter the very individuals that they were supposed to be assisting? Not only would this tarnish his own reputation as Grand Master, but Connor would never forgive him either, not when Haytham’s hands were soaked red with the blood of the boy’s friends and allies.

Needless to say, it was with no small amount of trepidation that Haytham wound his horse down the path that would lead him to the manor. Connor had left a few days prior to help pave the way for this Templar and Assassin collaboration, but for all of the love and adoration the Brotherhood seemed to have for their leader, he could not help but worry that his plan would still fail. What if this was too much for the Assassins to swallow?

After all that the Templars had done to them--what he had done to them--Haytham could not blame them in the slightest for being resistant to receiving aid from the Order.

The cold and hostile looks he got from the residents did not bode well for what he was to find at the Davenport home, and while he did not fear for his safety amongst these individuals, it was still uncomfortable to be stared at with such hate and disgust. Haytham was thankful that he’d chosen not to bring any men with him, what with so much open animosity lingering in the air; he just hoped that these problems would be smoothed over by the time his men arrived in a few days.

The sound of shouting greeted him at the doorway, and even before his knuckles could rap against the door, someone pulled it open: the man he’d seen on the rooftops at the execution--Wilkinson, was it? The look and the muttered greeting he gave him were not especially welcoming, but they were civil, which was more than what Haytham could say about the argument going on in another part of the house.

One voice he immediately recognized as his son’s, and the other had a French accent to it--ah yes, the individual they’d saved from the gallows. Eyebrows lifting in a silent question, he looked to Wilkinson for answers, but the Assassin said nothing, his lips merely pressing into a thin line. A crash had the man rushing upstairs to find the source, and while he momentarily thought of following, Haytham stayed put, ears pricked for any information he might glean from the argument happening up above.

“Sir, is everything alright?”

“We are fine, Clipper. It was an accident.” A string of colorful French quickly followed, and then Haytham heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. “Stephane!”

“I refuse! I refuse! We do not need those filthy Templars here!”

“Stephane--” That was Wilkinson this time, and there was a note of warning in his voice.

“Look at what they have done to Jacob. To Duncan. To Jamie.” A frightening silence settled over the house before Chapeau continued. “And you would trust them now to protect us? They are the cause behind all of our problems, Connor.”

“And what choice do we have now? Would you have us throw down our arms and surrender?”

“We fight! We fight as we have always--”

“We would lose! We will need their assistance to fight off Lee, if we are to have any hope of keeping the Homestead safe.”

“And how do you know that this is not a trap? What if your father’s plan is to strangle us from the inside out? To have us primed for slaughter when Lee comes--if he comes?”

“I trust my father.”

Stephane scoffed. “He speaks nothing but lies, and you... You have fallen for them. How can you believe the words of that bastard--”

There was a crunch, a sound Haytham recognized as a fist connecting with flesh. Stephane cursed loudly, but that was the only sound heard before Connor spoke, his voice cold and hard--a lethal edge to his words. “You may criticize me, Stephane, but do not say a word about my father.”

Haytham turned his gaze toward his feet, just a little pleased to hear that, but when he heard Chapheau speak once more, angry and bitter, what joy he felt left him.

“Achilles would be disappointed.”

Again, silence fell over the manor, and this time, it stuck, hanging heavy in the air. Angry footfalls heralded the Assassin storming down the stairs, and the man’s eyes flashed as he saw Haytham standing there. Wiping the blood from his nose off on his sleeve, Chapheau paused a few feet away to give him a good, long stare before brusquely moving past him and toward the exit.

The house shook when he slammed the door shut. Up above, the sound was mirrored.

Wilkinson rapped tentatively at the door to no avail, and Haytham took that as his cue to at last approach his son. The Assassin greeted him with a frosty look before moving between him and the door, as if trying to shield the individual inside the room.

“I’d just like to have a quick chat with Connor,” Haytham said, doing his best to keep his voice light and devoid of any threats, intentional or not. “I am his father after all.”

“A father would not have done put his son in this situation.”

He forced a thin-lipped smile to his face and took a few steps closer to the Assassin. It was with a dark sense of glee that he watched as Wilkinson back away from him, fully understanding who, exactly, was stronger than who. “And I have sought to make amends for my failings. However, if you’d like for me to undo all of my work by slitting your throat, be my guest.

“Now then, if you have no other complaints, step aside.”

Wilkinson looked like he was about to open his mouth to protest when the door behind him suddenly opened, causing both men to look at Connor. The boy was wearing a most displeased expression on his face as he assessed the situation before grabbing Haytham by the arm, yanking him inside the room, and shutting the door again.

In a blink of an eye, Connor had him shoved up against the wall, hands clenched around the fabric of his coat. The boy snarled, and Haytham chuckled breathlessly, having had the air knocked out of his lungs; an easy, infuriating smile curled his lips. His voice was like cold steel: unyielding and unforgiving. “Temper got the best of you?”

“Clipper is the only one who has agreed to our plan, and you threaten to kill him?” Connor hissed, anger and desperation painfully apparent in the wild look in his eyes. Oh, Haytham had never expected this exchange to go well, but judging from the boy’s response, even he had been too optimistic, which was saying something. “Stephane, Duncan, and Jacob want nothing to do with you, and Dobby is wary enough to avoid wanting to join in a Templar plot.”

“And the Homesteaders?”

His son removed his hands from him and simply shook his head, the anger he’d seen slowly but surely shifting into resignation. Haytham sighed and smoothed his hands over his coat; they’d both be in trouble if they couldn’t find some sort of arrangement--and soon. If it weren’t his men arriving soon, it would be Charles’, and at this point, neither group was going to be greeted with anything but musket fire.

“Should I assume that anyone from the Order will be shot on sight upon arrival?”

Connor had taken to slowly pacing the room, fiddling with his hands. “I do not know,” he answered after a moment, briefly lifting his gaze from the floor to look at Haytham. “They are angry with me for accepting your aid.”

“Very well. What other options do we have?”

It was too late to tell his men to turn back, and while the easiest path would have been to abandon the Homestead, that was not an option either. Killing the dissenting Assassins would only add to the friction and ruin what he had now with his son, so--

“Can you hold the pass?”

“Hm?” Haytham frowned, puzzled by the boy’s sudden question. “The pass?”

“Can your men hold the pass that leads here from the frontier?”

Ah, that pass. Haytham considered it for a moment, remembering the look of it as he’d traveled toward the Homestead. It was narrow enough to defend, but it was far from an ideal arrangement. The Templars were not quite as fond of stealth as the Assassins, but standing in the middle of a road, waiting for slaughter, was not their preferred method of combat either.

No, such open conflict was more Charles’ forte. After all, he was the general of the two of them.

“With a barricade in place, perhaps,” he responded, distracted. He understood the reasoning behind Connor’s plan, but Haytham wasn’t exactly delighted with it. If the Templars held the pass, then there’d be no need to interact with the Assassins and Homesteaders, especially if they made camp well and away from the people living there. Haytham would have to come up with a viable excuse for this sort of separation, but he’d manage somehow or another.

Haytham was already thinking of his potential losses, already wondering what the state of the Order would be after this--if his men would still consider him worthy of leading them after all was said and done. Maybe his worry showed a little on his face, in the crease of his brow and the downward curl of his lips, for Connor came over a moment later, warm hands on his shoulders and lips pressed against his own.

The gesture was surprisingly gentle and all too brief, but it was enough for now--it would have to be. There would be no thanks--no expressions of gratitude--from anyone until all of this was over, and sadly, the end was nowhere in sight.

I've decided. My hands are weird. They type weird stuff. :O

Strange Fates

Chapter 19 - Captors and Captive

Charles paced, waiting for the Assassin boy to emerge from his quarters.

It had been a trying couple of days, with suitors dropping in left and right (though Charles was glad to see that James had not been one of them). Charles had been surprised that a few of them had even gained Master Kenway’s permission to court his son.

There were no weak Alphas or stupid Alphas, but the appearance of Gerhard at his door had caused shivers to go up even his spine.

And the way the Hessian had stared at the wide-eyed and unarmed Omega, pale with anger and fear...

Charles hated to admit it, but if anyone could utterly cow the boy, it was likely to be Gerhard. OF course, it wasn’t like that there would be anything left of the Assassin once he finished with him.

Gerhard was sadistic when it came to their enemies, and it was highly doubtful that the boy would survive the man’s...attentions if, by some reason, Master Kenway took leave of his senses and gave the boy to him.

At least that was something Charles didn’t have to worry about. The boy looked as if he wanted to cling to Charles to escape Gerhard’s malicious gaze.

Gerhard might as well be driving Charles’s suit for him.

Charles had found Gerhard afterwards and warned him not to come near the Omega. His was a suit that Charles would not be allowing, no matter what Master Kenway said about the matter.

After all the excitement after Gerhard’s visit, the boy claimed fatigue and retreated to his room. He had not made an appearance since, and Charles was beginning to suspect that the boy had escaped somehow.

Impossible with the number of guards he’d stationed around the perimeter of his house (and the boy’s weapons were with Master Kenway besides), but the thought surfaced in Charles’s mind and just would not disappear.

So when he heard the click-clack of boots making their way down the staircase, Charles breathed a sigh of relief, turned to greet the boy...

...and stared.

He’d known the Assassin would clean up well once he was out of that infernal white outfit, but...

A small voice in the back of his head wondered if this was the reason Biddle was positively salivating over the boy. If this was the reason that someone like Gerhard would decide to court him.

The boy could not wear the same clothes every day so, in preparation for when the boy would become his wife, Charles had arranged for a pieces of clothing to be tailored for him. He’d arranged for the servants to lay out one of those he was told was quite similar to the boy’s captain uniform.

He’d been curious as to how the boy would appear, and when he turned and caught sight of him...

A succubus. The boy was a succubus.

His body was lean and slender, his legs long and fine. He was wholly transformed and looked...looked...

He looked as elegant and beautiful and commanding as Master Kenway had that first day he set foot in the colonies.

Charles wanted to ravish him.

Charles unconsciously licked his lips, then shook his head.

As much as he would love to pin the boy to the ground and have him, Master Kenway had forbidden it of him.

It was to be his punishment for his earlier transgressions, and he must suffer it.

But oh, how he wished he had not been asked that.

How he wished Master Kenway had acquiesced to his pleas to keep the boy, after the child was born.

There was always the chance that the boy would decide on one of the other Templars, just to spite him, and he would then forever lose the mother of his only child.

It was a thought that could not be borne.

He may not be the most kind or generous of Alphas, but he cared for the idea of family. He had a happy childhood with his own parents, and it was his fondest wish to extend that to his son or daughter, Alpha or Omega.

Family mattered to him. Blood mattered to him, and for it to be his fault that his child was deprived of a mother...

“You do not look very well.”

Charles started, staring at the boy who deigned to speak to him for the first time since he was first brought to Charles’s house.

He seemed to have gotten over his earlier fear of Gerhard.

“It is not easy to win this war.”

The boy did not look surprised.

“Allow the commander to do what he must, and the war will be won speedily.”

Charles’s mood soured immediately.

Washington again. Always Washington.

He stalked over to the boy and leaned into his face.

“He was not doing so well before you lent him your aid.”

The boy merely looked irritated.

“He was not yet tried in being a leader that everyone looked up to. His military exploits in the past were of smaller scale, so I am told, and so, he faced a truly astounding learning curve. What seemed to be his greatest weakness, his humility, has proven to be his greatest strength and endeared him to the hearts of many. And while his military tactics may not be the best against the crown, he is a genius in logistics, and it is mostly due to his organization and foresight that the army remains fed, stocked and able to fight.”

Charles stared again. The boy did not talk to him for nearly the entire couple of days he’d been here and now...

Loathe as he was to admit it, it was an accurate assessment. Washington was rather skilled when it came to army logistics and his operations management abilities made it possible for the army to operate for as long as it did.

They might have perished without Washington’s skill with supply chain management.

The thought did not sit well with him.

“Managing logistics does not make a great commander,” he felt compelled to say. “He ought to have been the army supplies officer, not the commander-in-chief.”

The boy shook his head.

“His understanding of the subject means that the person with the most say and power understands a vital but poorly understood area. Had it been anyone else in the position, they would not have seen the importance of his suggestions and the army would have been doomed. Whereas everyone understands the importance of good military tactics. George is blessed with a humility and willingness to listen to others, and that lack has been well complemented by the skills of his officers.”

It was...a very thorough understanding. An understanding that Charles himself had not come to.

He stared at the boy. At the unexpectedly brilliant mind that was capable of such analysis.

He had known Washington for longer than the boy.

He had not seen this.

And he did not want to see this now.

“His officers will trust him less with the rumors that I sent around camp. He’ll soon find himself outwitted.”

At least, that was what Charles hoped.

If the man kept blundering, then Charles may yet receive the position he was looking for.

The boy glared at him, and Charles was discomfited to discover that he looked just as magnificent when he scowled as when he was stoic-faced.

How could someone like this be so blinded by Washington? How?

And why hadn’t he been raised as a Templar, as he ought to have been?

Master Kenway’s brilliant and beautiful Omega son...an Assassin.

It was such a waste.

He remembered how it felt to have the boy under him. He remembered how it felt to be inside the boy, wrapped in his tight heat and driving towards blissful completion...

He leaned in, intent on smelling the boy.

He wouldn’t touch him, just smell him and remember how it was to be on top of him.

The boy leaned away, flinching from his proximity.

He reached out a hand. Just a small touch.

Just one...

“Boss!”

They both jumped at the sound, and Charles turned incredulous eyes towards the door, where Edwards had strolled in.

“Boss, the big boss says I can has a go, too!”

...What?

“So this is the big boss’s little Omega. A looker, ain’t ‘e? Wouldn’t mind getting a tooth in ‘im.”

Charles stared at him.

The Assassin stared at him.

“Wazza matter? Not scared of little ‘ol me, are ya? Don’t ya worry yer sweet little head. I’ll be gentle wit ya.”

He reached a grubby hand toward the disbelieving Omega.

Oh no. This wasn’t acceptable.

Charles caught his wrist midway.

“Do not touch him.”

Edwards had the temerity to look confused.

“But sir, he really did say—”

Charles was so furious, he grabbed a hold of the man’s shoulders and threw him at the door.

“Out!”

Edwards took one wide-eyed look at his face and then ran.

“Well.”

Charles calmed his breathing and then turned to look at the Assassin still in front of him.

“I can handle a drunk idiot.”

...it figured that Edwards was drinking on the job again.

Charles made a mental note to half his pay.

The Assassin then turned to leave, probably to head back to his own quarters.

That was it? Not even a thanks for Charles throwing Edwards out? Or acknowledge the fact that Charles was protecting him from the likes of Gerhard? He wasn’t even going to get his customary silence as the boy read?

No, he would not be scorned like this.

High on adrenalin and anger, Charles grabbed the boy, spun him around and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Immediately, hands pushed at him and scratched him, but he easily grabbed a hold of those wrists and brought that struggling body to the ground.

Every involuntary brush against that bucking body was delicious, if ineffectual. He was just bigger and heavier than the Omega.

“Don’t struggle,” he whispered. “I don’t mean you any harm. Just stay still.”

He just wanted the boy’s company.

He wasn’t about to force himself on the boy.

Again.

Master Kenway would have his head.

The boy did not listen to him and continued thrashing. One lucky knee hit him painfully in the stomach as the boy squirmed to escape from him, and Charles saw red.

Here he was, trying his hardest to restrain himself, and this was the thanks he got?

Fought against and hurt when he had even protected the boy?

Charles would not stand for that.

With one quick strike, he backhanded the boy and tore at his clothes.

If that was what he was returned for his kindness, then so be it.

Half an hour later, as he came down from his euphoric high to the sound of soft sobs and a litany of “stop, stop, please stop, no no nonono” from the finely trembling body beneath him, he felt sanity return to him.

Oh God.

He stared at the ripped clothes, at the way the boy flinched away from him, at the dull amber-brown eyes.

Oh God, Master Kenway was going to kill him.

O_O OMG CONNOR! /HUGS/ Thought Charles would have some restraint but having Connor so close, being hit on by his brothers (even Edwards, LOL), and in addition to the captain uniform replica... poor Connor didn't stand a chance. Wonder if Haytham is going to find out about this, or if Charles can work a deal with Connor to keep him silent.

Wow, you made Gerhard scarier than I imagined him to be, especially if Connor was nearly clinging to Charles. Heh. Wonder how that courting session went, in my headcannon, I would imagine Connor is fluent in German thanks to Jacob.

OMG Edwards, there's no way Haytham would have allowed anyone Hickey-like to be Connor's husband. I love that Charles threw him out :p

OMG yay!!! -OP

I think I love you.

alkfskhjfjsabfchsb!

Heavens above! I almost keened in excitement when I saw an update!

First of all, I'm so glad and relieved and happy that this story has not been abandoned. The extent of my eagerness cannot be put into words - that's how much I love this fill. I /dread/ to call it that, for it puts this story to shame - this is not just some random 'fill' or kink, it's fucking genius. I wish this story would receive more attention, since you definitely deserve it, anon, but I'm sure there's a bunch of people (albeit probably distracted by fapping) reading and enjoying this awesome story.

To say that I'm excited for the next part would be an understatement of the year. Though I recognize Haytham's worries, I can't help but wonder if they have a fair chance after all - they do have the element of surprise on their side, do they not? Maybe I'm wrong, but perhaps Charles wouldn't expect such defiance, wouldn't expect his own brothers (speaking of the Order, not Haytham) to oppose him in such a bold manner... No idea, man, I'm just excited to see what happens next, you have a knack for putting me on edge with these cliffies.

Stay motivated, anon! You've got much love and expectant excitement backing you in your efforts.

Oh Charles, you are in troooouuuuble. Poor Connor, though. Since Haytham has spies everywhere and Charles did take Connor out in the open like that, the Grandmaster is bound to know what happened. Curious to see what he does, he did sort of promise Connor that Charles wouldn't force his attentions on him again. Probably has to move Connor out of Lee's house or something.

So, if you care about backstory: they're headed out on a mission and stopped for the night in a cabin. Then sex. Enjoy!

-----

Clipper sat low on Connor’s bare stomach, legs spread wide to accommodate the larger Assassin’s girth. He ran his hands over Dobby’s bare spine and she purred, curving up over Connor’s torso. Clipper leaned forward slightly to rub his crotch over her seat, fascinated with the way Connor’s darker skin framed Dobby’s body.

She groaned and rolled her hips back, brushing Clipper’s ass against Connor’s huge prick. Both men gave breathy moans, and Dobby giggled as her fingers tangled in Connor’s hair. Clipper bent forward and shuddered as Conner’s big hand flexed on his hip, feeling Dobby do much the same.

Clipper felt Connor’s cock twitch and leave a wet spot on his ass as Dobby bent to kiss him. She had to bend a little awkwardly, and Clipper pulled her back as he sat himself over Connor’s hips. She purred again, and Clipper couldn’t help but rut against her. Connor was trembling and the hand on Clipper’s hip was going to leave bruises. Clipper put his hand over Connor’s and pressed it down harder.

Dobby had moved down again, pressing her groin flush with Clipper’s as she licked and nibbled on the thick column of Connor’s neck. Clipper could see his face at last, dazed and rapturous, staring up at the ceiling. Clipper squeezed Connor’s hand again and rubbed a little harder over Connor’s prick and those dazed eyes slipped down to look. Clipper smiled desperately, leaned forward and ground himself against Dobby’s ass one last time and came.

Conner finally started tentatively thrusting, and Clipper groaned as Dobby reached between her legs, underneath his hips and managed to awkwardly get her fingers around Connor. It seemed to steal all the air from his body, and Clipper whimpered before toppling himself off to the side. Dobby scooted down Connor’s body, kissing his chest and licking his nipples as she pressed the head of his cock against the lips of her sex.

Clipper heaved for air as he watched Connor freeze, letting Dobby slowly work her way down onto him in her own time. She paused halfway, pulled off a little and then rocked herself down farther. When she pulled off again, she could barely reach his lips for a kiss, but Connor was more than happy to lift his head.

His arms wrapped around her loosely, though Clipper could see from the tension in his forearms that Connor wanted to grip her tight. Dobby slowly rocked herself over Connor’s body, still taking him only halfway, letting her breasts and her stomach brush over him as she moved. Clipper licked suddenly dry lips and squirmed closer. One of Dobby’s arms reached out for him, and after a moment so did one of Connor’s. They pulled him in and he ended up with his head resting on Connor’s chest, his mouth taking one of Dobby’s nipples and his finger’s squeezing the other.

She reared back unthinkingly, and Connor let out an almost-pained moan as she finally started working her way down completely. Clipper, with some of his energy back, followed her, laving her entire breast with his tongue. Connor’s hand joined him on the other, though he was more than content to simply weigh it in his palm and let Clipper tweak and rub the nipple.

Dobby cried out throatily, and Clipper got to his knees and wrapped his other arm around her waist, squeezing at the flesh that padded her side. Connor was whimpering breathlessly now, barely hanging on. Dobby pulled Clipper’s mouth off of her with a desperate gasp, and shoved his head toward Connor’s. She laughed at his mock-offended look, then gave him another shove as she ground down. Clipper was captivated by the way her thighs and stomach flexed, but turned to Connor who looked like he was about to explode.

Clipper nearly fell on Connor’s mouth, wanting to taste what Dobby was doing to him. Connor could barely respond, too overwhelmed, and Clipper smoothed his hands over Connor’s chest and felt his heart skip a beat when he came. Dobby yowled a little, pulling his flexing hips up to meet hers, and Clipper gently sucked on his earlobe. Connor was barely capable of gasping for air as Dobby pulled off him, and the glisten of the wiry hairs at her crotch made Clipper’s mouth water.

Dobby rolled onto Clipper bonelessly, and Clipper turned her onto her back next to Connor. He crawled down and ran a finger over Connor’s half-hard prick, and Connor gave a weak moan to object. Clipper grinned and lifted the finger to his lips, sucked it into his mouth and enjoyed the whimper Connor gave. Dobby, on the other hand, managed to prop herself up on her elbows and was staring at him hungrily.

“Want to put that mouth to good use?” She teased. Clipper felt his cheeks get even warmer somehow, but he settled between her knees and braced his hands on her thighs. When she hummed encouragingly, Clipper bent down, nuzzling his nose against her pubic hair and getting it soaked immediately. The thick scent of her sex mingled with sweat and Connor’s seed made his mouth water, and Clipper eased her legs apart so he could get access.

Dobby gave a quiet, pleased hum as he pulled her lips apart and blew gently over the slick flesh. The folds of her inner lips led in a v up to where a little hood of flesh hit her clit, but for now Clipper looked to her entrance and let his tongue trace the outside. She was gaping open, and a little of Connor’s issue was seeping out and mixing with Dobby’s juices.

Connor’s seed tasted unpleasant, but Clipper didn’t care and mixed it with the salty tangy taste of Dobby and pressed his tongue into her. She gasped and mewled a little, her hips weakly pressing down toward his mouth. Clipper tried to hold her hips down as she slowly thrust his tongue in and out of her, but Dobby kept squirming and Clipper had to laugh.

She shuddered at the vibrations, and Clipper replaced his tongue with two gentle fingers as he licked over her inner lips. Dobby keened and he felt her hands grab his hair roughly and groaned with pleasure as she gave his roots a hard tug when his tongue flicked over her clit.

Clipper pressed his fingers in a little more harshly, dropping his jaw as his tongue rubbed, caressed, flicked and wriggled against Dobby’s button. She responded passionately, grinding her crotch down onto his fingers, giving his hair a good pull whenever he did something she liked, and constant whimpering moans that got steadily louder as he drove her closer to her edge.

Her sudden quiet made him look up, but when she kicked his shoulder he bent back to his work. Though now he watched Connor kissing her, thrust his fingers in time with the motions of their lips. Connor’s massive paws palmed Dobby’s breasts unselfconsciously now, and when he tweaked one of her nipples Clipper could feel her twitch and flutter around his fingers.

Even the kisses couldn’t silence Dobby anymore, and her voice cracked as Clipper worked against a certain spot inside her. She was babbling quietly against Connor’s ear, and his thick arms wrapped around her and held her as Clipper slipped a slick pinky into her ass. She shrieked a little as she came, clutching Connor’s shoulders and Clipper’s hair.

Her body kept shuddering even after Clipper pulled his fingers out, and Connor pet her hair with one hand as Clipper crawled up to lay next to her. They were all breathing hard, harsh gasps the only sound in the little cabin. When Clipper could get up the energy to look the candle only had half an hour left to it, so he didn’t bother getting up to put it out.

Dobby lay nestled between them, both he and Connor on their sides with Clipper’s leg draped over Dobby’s and tucked between Connor’s. Their arms all weaved together, hair a tangled mess over the pillows that would be a pain to sort out in the morning. Dobby let out a giggle and turned to face Clipper, brushing their noses together. She kissed him gently, pulling back when the pressure on his jaw made him wince a little.

She licked her lips and smiled. “We taste pretty good on your mouth.” Clipper managed a chuckle.

“Well maybe tomorrow we’ll have time before we leave to find out how we taste on your mouth.” He motioned to Connor and winked. He could feel Connor shiver through Dobby, and she laughed at them both.

“Maybe.” She smirked saucily, then turned and gave Connor a wry look. “Here, I’ll have none of that now. I’m done for the night.”

Clipper craned his neck and caught sight of Connor’s erection growing against Dobby’s thigh. “I am sorry. I did not mean to-” Dobby cut him off with a tired flap of her hand.

“It’s to be expected with young men. If you’re really up for it roll Clipper over and bugger him, I meant it when I said I was done.”

Conner looked uncertainly between Dobby and Clipper, and Clipper only hesitated for a moment before he shifted away from Dobby and rolled onto his front. He tossed Connor a nervous smirk over his shoulder. “I’m not quite tuckered out yet if you’re not.”

Dobby laughed as Connor clambered over her, her hand drifting to her crotch as she lay back to watch the show.

As per usual all prompts posted after this will be deleted. It's nothing personal it just saves room for filler comments and because mod was late in closing this part that space is needed.

(Sorry there's no animal-sassins in this chapter! They'll be around come next chapter. This is pretty short too, I'll make sure the next chapter's longer.)

--

Desmond's morning was routine. He wasn't sure he liked that. Not that he minded routine, going about mindless work, but the fact that this is what had become routine is what worried him. He woke automatically at 10 AM, checked if he required a shower, generally decided he didn't, and proceeded to shuffle aimlessly around his apartment for the remainder of the day. It had been nice the first week or two, just like an extended vacation. Now it was just getting sad.

He let himself fall onto the couch with a grunt, booting up his laptop. He scrolled through his e-mails—Lucy, Lucy, spam, Lucy, more spam. He paused at the last message in the inbox, noting the sender with interest. Someone had contacted him about his application.

The tiny glimmer of hope was squashed further and further down as he read. ...with all due respect, Mr. Miles, our company simply cannot accept anyone unwilling or unable to provide... He didn't even bother finishing. Whatever they were asking for—high school diploma, college degree, birth certificate, proof of insurance, social security—he didn't have. He didn't know why he bothered anymore. Every single application, all turned down for one missing document or another. Desmond pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids and muttered under his breath, cursing his parents, his stupid decisions, the bar for having the gall to run illegally and not bother to tell him.

"Desmond?" He looked up at the voice coming from the entranceway. "You'd better be wearing pants, I'm coming in anyway."

"I'm decent," he called back, after taking a moment to check that he was actually properly clothed.

"I doubt that, but as long as you've got pants on," Lucy retorted, her voice coming closer before her body joined it in the living room. She was still wearing her work ID, her bag still slung over one shoulder. She eyed the computer in Desmond's lap. "Any good news?"

Desmond sighed and set the computer aside. "Another rejection. I don't know why I fucking bother anymore. Nobody's going to hire a guy without any legal documentation. The only reason I got my old job is because I was the least illegal thing in the building—including the building!"

Rather than the usual sigh and shake of the head Lucy usually gave him, she smiled. "You'd be surprised, Desmond. Actually, I think I might have found something for you." When Desmond just stared at her blankly, she continued. "Warren has been working on a project in Genetics, some sort of gene therapy experiments. They're looking for someone to do security detail—really basic grunt work, and they're not being choosy."

Desmond let that process for a few moments, quickly shoving down the earlier glimmer of hope before it could properly show itself. "That's great and all, but Abstergo's still a huge, reputable, world-spanning company. They're definitely not gonna hire someone without paperwork."

"I'm pretty sure they'd take a hobo off the streets if he can take a shower and sign a contract," Lucy said, still smiling. "I've already put in a good word about you to Warren. It'll probably be a few days before they make any decisions, but any prospect is better than no prospect, right? And if they say no, you not any worse off than if I'd never mentioned it."

Desmond sighed, slumping forward a bit, but did manage a smile. "...You're right. Thanks, Luce." He paused. "...If this actually works out, I'm gonna owe you forever."

"Why do you think I asked in the first place?" She grinned at him. "Come on, put on something you haven't been wearing the past three days. I'm getting you out of this apartment if it kills us both."

--

The phone call came three days later at 8 in the morning. The person on the other end of the line didn't bother waiting for Desmond to become coherent. "You have out attention, Mr. Miles. We'll expect you at our main building in one week, 7 o'clock sharp, to test your compatibility with the job. No piercings, no loose clothing, no animal motifs." There was a click, and silence. Desmond stared blearily at his phone, working to process that information. He managed to open a note app on his phone and tap out "job 7 1 week no animals" before setting it aside and falling back to sleep.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO D,X

When will we have a part six mod?! TELL ME!

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: We're at 41 pages on Part 5

Re: Strange Fates 18

Sort-of Fill: Corrupted File Detected

Re: Sort-of Fill: Corrupted File Detected

Re: Washington/Lafayette + Connor, 5 times fic

Re: We're at 41 pages on Part 5

Part 5 CLOSED

GildedCages 9/?

FILL: Not Strong Enough 1/?

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 37a/?

Re: Strange Fates 18

Re: Strange Fates 18

Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 37b/?

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 37b/?

Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]

Strange Fates 19

Re: Strange Fates 19

Re: FILL: Not Strong Enough 1/?

Re: FILL: Beware of Stallion 1/3

Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]

Re: Strange Fates 19

Fill - A Little Cabin in the Woods

Re: Part 5 CLOSED FYI

Caged 1/?

Re: Part 5 CLOSED FYI