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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I don't know if you can tell, but I'm new and tired.The start of a fill. enjoy.

It's hard. It takes effort. But work is what makes it work. -JJ (Criminal Minds)

“Sir?”
“Charles?”
“Sir, are you sure that buying the...” Charles looked back on the native boy to search for the right word to call him “slave was the right decision? I do not question your authority, but what would be his purpose at your home?” Haytham tilted his head to the side and looked at Charles as he spoke “Look at him, Charles. His frame, build, and stature; what does it say to you? If he were to be a slave in my household, or any other household for that matter, all of it would be for not. He could be useful to our cause. So, to answer your questions, yes it is the right decision and all other purposes for him being here are to remind to our knowledge only. Understood?”
Charles nodded his head quickly with a muttered “Of course.” With a curt, “Excellent, take him to New York so he may settle down; I shall meet with you later. I have business to attend to here.” Haytham bounded off into a alleyway.

<><><><><><><><><>

The Green Dragon never failed to fall short of tolerable in Haytham's humble opinion. The smell of bodily fluids and alcohol seemed to be the only stench that taverns among the colonies had. Nonetheless, he held his breath as he climbed up the stairs to the top level of the Dragon. Haytham turned the corner to see his brothers in arms sitting at one of the tables. These four men were selected special and had each aided him in someway.
“Good Morning, Master Kenway.” Johnson greeted without looking up from what looked like a treaty document.
“Where's ol' Charlie, Boss?” Hickey laughed while putting his feet up next to Johnson's document. Haytham grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and pulled it to the head of the table as he answered with “He's showing a possible new ally to the Order his place at my villa.”
“And who is this new alley?” Church asked while observing Johnson work on the document. Haytham leaned forward to peer at the document that seemed to hold everyone's gaze.
“A native slave. Freshly bought, additionally, but I do not intend to use him for house work. I believe I've found a solution to our problems.”
“Native Slave? I thought you didn't believe in slavery, Haytham?” Of course the topic of slavery and Native America's would pique Johnson's defenses instantly.
With a sigh he answered as if it was obvious. “You are correct, but as I said he is not for house work. I must say, I was impressed by his build. This young man looked as if he could take on an army! With some training, time, and effort he could become a glorious fighter.” That seemed to satisfy Johnson somewhat even as he huffed in a harmless tone. “Let's hope you know what you're doing.” Haytham scoffed and chuckled as Church added “How long will the training take?”
“Never you mind that, Benjamin. Yet, the more I ponder it, the more I am convinced he could raise himself to be as high ranked as Charles or even myself.” Hickey snorted “Charlie aint gonna like that.”
“Well, forget my personal affairs, Thomas. I came to discuss business. Where are we in the Colonies?”
“Boston.”
“Where do we stand in numbers when pertaining to the Colonies?” Haytham clarified in a deep tone that demanded authority. At least, that shut him up.
“Less then five hundred, I'm afraid. The last report I saw for Braddock was a letter from the Crown stating something about more enlistments coming.” Pitcairn chimed in with a melancholy look on his face.
“And the Assassins?”
“That's what I'm reviewing now, Sir. This is a letter from the Iroquois tribe, pertaining to hooded figures speaking about peace treats and asking about a cross. Our cross, but the people didn't know anything. It also tells about four younger looking assassins who trailed along beside the speaker.” The letter was handed to Haytham as Johnson answered, but was quickly handed back.
“They're finally recruiting, hm? That is why you must always be one step ahead. Speaking of which, I must be off. I should check on Charles more then my guest. Contact me immediately about anymore 'hooded figures'. May the Father of Understanding guild us.” Haytham declared briefly before heading back downstairs to return to his ville.

<><><><><><><><>

The ride to New York was never a short one, but riding on horseback always allowed one to think. Haytham relished the time he got to think properly, knowing that there was no haste in his decisions or any plans that needed to be mapped out. The world was never shut out yet only it's undertones remained. The howl of a wolf, a hiss of a cougar, the breathing of his faithful mare, but something new filled his thoughts. The slave he had bought; no, not slave anymore, native or maybe even ally?
Whatever he was to the Order was becoming increasingly different to Haytham. The boy was just different, bordering on a feeling that felt a bit foreign. He had everything that proved him to be a great warrior, all that was left now was to smooth out any rough edges the boy had. A detail came back into his mind. Had he been blushing when I looked at him? What where my features that had caused that? I might have looked shocked, but certainly nothing more! More would be nothing but preposterous, or would it? He is handsome in a certain light...any light, really.
He stopped his mare abruptly and simply scuffed at the notion that he could be attracted to the slave. “That's all he is. A slave.” Haytham said out loud to reassure himself from the annoyance that was bubbling up inside him.
Urging the mare into a trot that would periodically burst into a run, Haytham wanted to get home quickly. He wanted to push down any feelings that felt less then anything from the Grandmaster he was. The boy is my slave and will train until I see fit. He'll rise to be my greatest work.

End of Chap. 2
<><><><><><><><>
(A/N: No smut. Still no smut. *Haytham is displeased* I know, hush Haytham. This story just EVOLVED into this big thing. Hopefully it's going okay. All mistakes are my own and again I'm sorry for posting it in the wrong spot like a dingus. *Haytham: Facepalm.* TAKE YOUR SASS SOMEWHERE ELSE, HAYTHAM.)

I am still working on this. Slowly.

------------

~ + ~

When Altair caught some of the scholars peering in their direction curiously, he knew it would be prudent to move this encounter elsewhere.

"Let's go back to my study. After that, I'll see if I can find...well, you, actually." He finished, bemused.

"The me from your time, you mean."

And somehow, it was just like Malik to differentiate. It took great effort for Altair not to laugh (he would probably take it poorly) but he's never been very good at hiding from Malik, it seems, because the novice just shot him a narrow-eyed look.

Instead of answering, Altair reached out for him, watched the way Malik frowned and leaned away from his hand with a blush. Altair thinks he might even be holding his breath.

Altair was aiming for somewhere behind his shoulder, though, in order to grab a hold of the grey novice hood and pull it up in a smooth motion.

He really did chuckle this time at Malik's undignified yelp.

"You should keep that up for now." He said wryly and if his fingertips brushed Malik's cheek, well, Malik had become rather immune to being teased over the years.

(Altair thinks, idly, that he had been foolish to waste this oppurtunity as a novice and was making up for it now.)

Then he turns and starts walking away.

There is a beat, and then Malik hurries to follow him and Altair slows his steps so they could walk side by side.

They reach the Mentor's study in relative quiet and Altair muses how strange it is to be walking side by side with Malik and yet not shoulder to shoulder.

He left Malik there with the offer to tkae any scroll he wanted for reading. The most important and secret documents were all safely locked away so he could have free reign to read whatever it was he wanted.

Altair didn't move to leave just yet though and, noticing this, Malik raised a brow at him.

"Before I go, there's something you should know."

~ + ~

"You are close to the Mentor?"

Without breaking step, Malik turned to look at Altair from his peripheral vision.

Altair appeared to be looking ahead, but Malik had had enough experience with his Altair to know that he was using his hood to help hide the fact that he's actually watching Malik.

It seemed some habits had been formed early.

"You mentioned earlier his dislike of water." Altair elaborated unecessarily and Malik wondered what the point of this line of questioning was, especially when he was sure Altair was looking for something. "You spoke as if you knew him well."

"I do, but not the Mentor you are thinking of." Malik answere simply, returning his full attention to the hallway again.

"There is a new Mentor?" Altair sounded surprised, "Who is he?"

Malik let that question hang between them as he considered the answer. Since he was, in fact, looking for his Altair, there was little point in hiding the true identity of the Mentor. Still, he was certain Altair (this younger version, at least) would be insufferable if he knew and Malik wasn't quite ready to deal with the boy strutting around like a puffed up peacock right now.

"Well? Who is it?"

The impatient question only sealed the deal and Malik clicked his tongue.

"The current Mentor is an idiot novice."

Silence followed his statement then a growl, "Be serious."

"I am being perfectly serious." He looked out the corner of his eye and saw Altair's expression of disbelief and couldn't help but chuckle, "He is an idiot...but he wears his responsibilities well." Pause, "Even if he is constantly interrupting my work." He added dryly, but couldn't help the warmth in his voice when he talked about Altair.

Another pause, "And yet you still follow him."

Malik shrugged, "He has his moments."

There is another pause, but this one has a distinctly sullen quality to it. "I have never known you to suffer fools."

Malik raised a brow and, oh, this was rich. Was Altair actually jealous? Of himself?

Before Malik could make a comment about how jealousy was unbecoming though, a voice called out for him.

"Malik."

He turned and, ah. There was Altair, the older one. Malik spares the one beside him a brief glance and found some amusement in the way he gaped when he recognized, first the robes, then the person in them.

"I was looking for...you."

The last word trailed off as both Altairs stared at one another, both in shock, though the older one recovered first.

"There's another one?"

Malik frowned, "What do you mean, 'another one'?"

~ + ~

By 'another one' he, of course, meant the younger Malik who had set himself up in a corner of the study, with a scroll spread open in his lap. He was staring at the parchment, but his mind was a million miles away.

Before Altair left, he'd told Malik about his futre self's situation. To say he did not take it well was an understatement.

Malik had balked, before bitter disappointment crashed into him.

Then he lashed out at the only person close to him.

"So you're telling me I become a cripple." He had hissed.

But Altair only frowned and walked over to place his hands on Malik's shoulder and told him, no, he wasn't a cripple.

"You had lost an arm, but you are not weaker for it." Malik had trembled, whether from anger or hurt he wasn't sure, but Altair hadn't flinched, had looked straight into Malik's eyes with such sincertiy and such conviction that Malik could not find it in himself to disbelieve him. "You are one of the strongest people I know, Malik. You weathered losses that would have crushed a lesser man. You are no cripple."

Malik frowned at the parchment in his hands. There had been guilt in Altair's expression too, but Malik hadn't had the heart to ask about it then. But he had been too stunned to, and, he groused, Altair had leaned in far too close for it to be proper. He did ask Altair this: why tell him now?

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to spare you as much pain as possible?"

He wouldn't have believed the Altair he knew would, no, but this older Altair, he had to admit, might. He suspected though, it might have been more for hils older self's benefit than his.

Still, the words and the proximity made him flush, so all he did in response was grouse that he didn't need to be coddled, least of all by you.

The sound of the door opening jerked Malik back into the present and, steeling himself, he looked up.

There was Altair and...Altair, the one who was more annoying but also more familiar to him. Then there was...him. Malik's eyes were drawn to where his left arm was supposed to be before returning his gaze to the scroll on his lap.

"I see you found him." He said dully with little inflection, determined not to look at any one of them.

~ + ~

In retrospect, Altair wasn't sure why he hadn't expected Malik to take all this poorly.

Still, even if he lost his arm in the future, he still became a Dai, and it's not like it's even a problem. So at the same time, Altair couldn't really understand why he was sulking about it. His one attempt at bringing up had been met with a furious glare and earned him a kick to his shin when he sat down beside Malik (the younger one). Altair had kicked him back, but after that they were more or less content to just ignore each other.

Well. Content probably wasn't the right word.

Altair watched (had been watching the whole way here) their older selves interact with something caught between mortification and envy. It wasn't that they were overt physical in their affections and, in fact, Altair hadn't recognized it for what it was at first. But it was there in his older self's eyes, written plain as day, and in the way their hands brushed from time to time, as if by accident, but the way the older Malik would turn everytime and make an exasperated face tells another story.

That he doesn't do anything to stop it from happening again only emphasizes it.

He couldn't decide if he was embarrassed at the open affection on his older self's face, or jealous of the way older Malik looked at him when he thought his older self wasn't looking.

Even when he's scolding the older Altair there's an undercurrent of affection (however exasperated) hidden beneath it. He tried to imagine the Malik beside him looking at him like that and couldn't.

An elbow in his side draws him out of his thoughts and he glares at (his) Malik who looked like he'd swallowed something unpleasant.

"What?" He hissed because their interactions have always been riddled with sharp words and competition (not lingering touches and fond looks).

"Stop that." Malik shoved him on the shoulder and Altair scowled.

"Stop what?"

They barely even noticed that the conversation from the other pair in the room had stopped as theirs rose not in volume but vehemence.

"Stop making eyes at--at him!" Immediatle, when Malik stumbles over his choice of pronouns, Altair knew exactly who this was about.

His first instinct, naturally is to deny.

"I wasn't making eyes at anyone!"

Malik quirks a brow in a way that was infuriating, but noticeably hesitates to call him out on the lie. Altair wonders if this is all as mortifying for him as well. (It must be, right? Altair can't possibly be the only one disturbed by all this.)

But Malik wouldn't be Malik if he let this oppurtunity go so Altair isn't surprised at all when the conversation quickly devolves into an argument.

This is anon's first time filling for the kink meme and I hope I'm doing this right and that this story is adequate enough. I also hope everyone's in character since this is my first time writing them ;_;

---

Legs pumping, lungs gasping, heat burning, pain overwhelming.

Clutching his bleeding side, Sergio cursed himself for his carelessness for he was certain that if he had only just casually lingered about the streets blending in with the crowd as though he had been there all along, or heck, climbing up, instead of running he wouldn't have been chased halfway across the city with a stab wound. Such a rookie mistake.

Sergio clutched the gash tighter and clenched his teeth against the surge of frustration and fresh pain.

He felt about ready to pass out.

He jumped the rooftop but his concentration faltered and he stumbled, legs finally giving way underneath him from exhaustion and blood loss and he gasped when his foot slipped and he began to fall. His hands scrabbled desperately for purchase but finding none, his body met the floor with a sickening crack and he let out a groan, his vision finally beginning to darken.

The last thing he heard was the creak of wood and a startled gasp of “Dio mio!” and then he knew nothing more.

---

Consciousness came slowly to Sergio, his mind a pleasant lazy hum as he sluggishly returned to the living world.

It felt nice. Nice and warm which brought a smile on his face but something in the back of his mind pressed at him, urgent, telling him that something wasn’t right. The feeling grew more and more as he drifted closer and closer to wakefulness until finally his eyes snapped open with a gasp and he shot up but a sharp pain had him crying out in pain and flopping back onto the bed, head spinning.

Woozily, he tried to get the room to stop turning so dizzily so that he might not feel like vomiting up his stomach.

In the midst of his discomfort, he vaguely noted that there were frantic footsteps running up to the room he was kept in before the door burst open and a man with chin-length blond hair and wide, concerned blue eyes walked in.

Sergio felt he should know who this was but his current state and ingrained caution had him growling at the man to stay away like an injured wolf.

The man seemed to understand and he approached more slowly, hands up in a sign of peace.

“I heard you yelling. How do you feel? Are you in pain? You lost a lot of blood,” the man said cautiously, standing a few feet away to give the assassin some room.

Sergio eyed the man speculatively, wracking his addled brain for a name to put to that oh-so familiar face. He should know who he was. He just knew it.

The man was waiting for his answer, he realized, smiling patiently as he looked at him with kind eyes and it suddenly hit Sergio.

“Signore Leonardo?” Sergio gaped.

Signore Leonardo inclined his head. “That is I but please, just Leonardo is fine.”

Oooh! How could he have forgotten? The Maestro had introduced him once as his greatest friend whom he treasured above all others beside his own family before warning them from putting him in unnecessary danger. After that, nobody dared to go out of their way to meet the man more personally.

Signore Leonardo was something of a wonder to the novices. They all knew him as the man who had stood beside the Maestro since the very beginning, not to even mention the man’s apparent genius and his wholehearted support of the Assassin’s cause even at the cost of his own safety.

Sergio felt a new wave of curiosity towards Signore Leonardo.

Maestro was somewhat of an enigma to among them and anyone who had first joined the Assassins were naturally curious about what their stoic leader was like in his earlier years. As a novice himself, he admitted to some curiosity as well but he, unlike some others, would rather focus on his Assassin duties rather than wonder a bit pointlessly after something that didn’t really matter anymore. But now, with the living link of the Maestro’s past standing before him, he found he couldn’t quite pass up the opportunity.

Suddenly realizing that Signore Leonardo was still standing there, Sergio snapped out of his thoughts and blushed slightly in embarrassment at having been lost in his thoughts.

“A-apologies. I am Sergio,” he managed to mutter.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sergio. How do you feel? Tired? Dizzy? Are you in pain?”

“N-no. Not particularly,” Sergio said numbly.

Signore Leonardo nodded. “That is good. You were bleeding so much I feared the worst! But not to worry, you should be fine now with some rest.” He smiled reassuringly and Sergio smiled back weakly. “Ah! I should bring you something to eat! It should help your recovery. I will be back momentarily.”

With a pat on his hand, Signore Leonardo was out of the room once more, leaving Sergio to stare after him, coming to grips with this feeling of gratitude warring with a longing heartache unfurling in the pit of his stomach.

Warm. That was the impression Signore Leonardo immediately gave off. He was so warm in the way that an Assassin’s life never really was. It felt like…

Sergio squeezed his hands together.

No. He shouldn’t allow himself to think about it otherwise he would never want to leave for his yearning but at least now he understood why Signore Leonardo was so important to the Maestro and, he rapidly grew to realize, why he was beginning to become important to himself as well.

---

When he returned to the Assassin headquarters good as new a few days later, Alberto, along with Beatrice, had both immediately accosted him as he walked in, asking after his whereabouts for the past several days and what had happened.

“I got injured,” Sergio reluctantly told them with a grimace.

“So you hid out while you healed?” Alberto’s eyes swept over him. “You don’t look very hurt.”

“Sí, thanks to Signore Leonardo.”

Both assassins gawked at him. “You met Signore Leonardo?” Beatrice whispered.

“Didn’t Maestro warn us not to bring danger to him?” Alberto asked, frowning.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Sergio exclaimed defensively. “I accidentally fell off his roof and he must have heard me. He took me in and nursed me back to health.”

Beatrice and Alberto shared a look before the former spoke up. “So… What was Signore Leonardo like?”

“He was… warm… And he’s very good at mending hurts, perhaps even better than the dottores around here,” Sergio tacked on hastily so as not to seem like he had been babied and enjoyed it.

Their faces seemed to brighten.

“Better than the dottores?” Alberto asked eagerly.

“Sí. No leeches, no foul-smelling medicine of questionable make and purpose, no—”

“Who’s better than the dottores?”

All three turned to look at a pair of fellow assassins who had just entered the room they were conversing in.

“Ah well, Sergio here had the privilege of being looked after by Signore Leonardo,” Beatrice explained, grinning.

Twin expressions of instant curiosity met her statement. “Really? What is he like?”

Sergio was beginning to see where this was going and he sorely wished that he kept his mouth shut.

Over the next few weeks, Leonardo had never seen so much traffic visit his home.

More and more young assassins were stopping by his workshop, usually injured but sometimes silent and broody in need of a place to just stop and sort themselves out.

Leonardo found himself vaguely confused if not amused with the new development but he took it all in stride. Though tending to them cut into his time working on other things, he didn’t mind overly much and besides which, now that his workshop has become a hub of sorts for the recruits, there were usually at least one or two at a time to assist him with looking after the injured. Besides, they were fairly unobtrusive and he found the company to be rather delightful if not helpful.

Muttering to himself as he rummaged about his worktable, scattering books and papers everywhere, he paused to scratch his head, fingers reaching underneath his ever-present beret to tangle quizzically into his hair.

“Where is that model I had—”

“Is this what you are looking for, Signore Leonardo?” teased a voice from behind him and only the years of dealing with Ezio sneaking up on him in this exact same way prevented him from jumping right out of his boots. Instead, Leonardo turned with a thankful beam when he spotted the sketch he had been looking for.

Even after all this time, he still couldn’t quite get the recruits to drop the Signore. When he had asked about it, they all basically gave him the same answer: It felt too disrespectful to call him by just his name.

He wasn’t quite sure what to feel about that. He would like it if they could see him more as a friend but on the other hand, he knew that it simply meant that the recruits had accepted him wholeheartedly as one of their own and only wished to show him the proper respect similar to how they referred to Ezio as Maestro.

“Ah! There it is! Grazie, Bianca. You are most helpful!”

The brunette’s lips curved into a smile as she replied, “I am always glad to be of some help to you.”

“Signore Leonardo!” came a call from upstairs and Leonardo was immediately sweeping away.

“Yes, coming!”

A knock came from the door and Bianca along with the five other recruits stilled, eyes narrowed as they focused on the entryway as their postures turned subtly defensive. It was unlikely to be an enemy because they were all extremely cautious with their route of arrival and they made sure that anyone who dared follow them was permanently indisposed. Besides, it was doubtful an enemy would politely let their presence be known before intruding. More than likely it was just a client but a certain paranoia and protectiveness had them ready to act at a moment’s notice anyway if it so happened that it was a guard who had come banging at the door.

“Leonardo? Are—”

The door opened and Ezio stopped short, staring in surprise as his sight was met with half a dozen of his recruits littered about his best friend’s workshop.

One of them was in the rafters, another two had a pile of books and sketches in their arms, another one was leaning against the wall reading a scroll and the last one had a piece of paper in her hands.

The novices in turn froze upon the sight of their Mentor, eyes shifting slightly away in faint panic and guilty bashfulness for their presence in Leonardo’s workshop which Ezio had explicitly warned them from.
Ezio’s lips tightened as he closed the door softly behind himself and he might as well have slammed it with the way his recruits winced and twitched anxiously.

“You, get down from there.”

The novice in the rafters obeyed immediately and dropped back onto the floor, antsy.

“And what are you all doing here?”

The inquiry was asked in a low voice, tinged with a sort of foreboding quality that said that if he didn’t get a satisfactory explanation now, there will be dire consequences.

His gaze fell on one recruit after another and each felt the heavy stare piercing right through them.

Finally, one of the braver recruits cleared his voice softly and said, “We are here recovering from various injuries.”

It was a lame explanation and the youth cringed when Ezio’s face told him that he thought the same way.
“And you couldn’t do that in the hideout?”

His novices shifted uneasily, glancing at one another as if urging the other to say something but they were saved from doing so when footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Leonardo reentered the room and immediately beamed widely upon seeing who had come to visit his home.
“Ezio! What a surprise! It is so good to see you amico mio! Is there something you need? Perhaps—”

“Leonardo,” Ezio interrupted not unkindly. “Why are my apprentices trespassing all over your workshop?”

Leonardo blinked. “Trespassing?” He laughed. “No, Ezio! They are not trespassing if I welcome them here!”

“My good friend, just their presence in your vicinity is enough to put you in danger and you are harboring half a dozen in your home.” Ezio shot a frosty glare at his novices who shivered at the look. “As much as I disparage the guards’ aptitude, even an idiot would eventually start to see patterns.”

Leonardo walked over and put a reassuring hand on Ezio’s shoulder. “Nothing has come of their presence here and besides, I feel it is much safer with them around.”

The artist smiled behind himself and a few of the recruits returned it tentatively.

Ezio didn’t share that optimism.

“Nothing has happened yet but all it takes is one mistake. Just one. Besides, you shouldn’t spoil them or they’ll grow too dependent.”

“But I can’t very well turn them away when they are in need of aid, Ezio,” Leonardo told his friend exasperatedly.

“They shouldn’t come to you for every little scratch and bruise,” Ezio growled, growing frustrated at Leonardo’s inability to see why it was not a good idea for his apprentices to so carelessly come and go through his residence. “If they are on the verge of death and landed at your doorstep, sí, I would understand if you took them in but if they were so seriously injured,” his gaze swept across the novices, “Why are they all standing?”

“Ezio, per favore—”

“No, Leonardo! This is not up to debate!” Ezio seethed. “They are to leave immediately and never bother you again. Am I clear?”

“Sí, Maestro,” was the muttered response before they each filed away quickly and silently. Their downcast hooded heads gave them a pitiable and disappointed air as they went.

Leonardo didn’t look too pleased and he turned away to his messy worktable when the door shut behind them.

Noticing this, Ezio slowly followed him, slightly hesitant. He hated seeing Leonardo upset and it was ten times worse if he was the cause of it but he’ll do what was necessary to ensure Leonardo’s safety at all costs even if his decisions don’t agree with his friend’s sentiments.

“They are just like you were,” Leonardo finally sighed, bracing his arms on the table and peering at Ezio across from him.

“Young and foolish? Sí, I quite agree.”

Leonardo shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Some of them come from dark places and others have darkness lingering in their eyes. They only seek temporary refuge where they may find reprieve and a sense of some peace and comfort. How could I or even you deny them that when you have been in their place in your own youth?”

Ezio’s eyes turned soft almost fond as he reached over and gently grasped Leonardo’s chin.

“Ami—No. Caro,” Ezio corrected seeing as there was no one around to see his display of affection. “I worry after your safety. If it were not for that combined with my work, I would visit you constantly whenever I may but the life of an Assassin means sacrifice whether it be in comfort or for family and the sooner my apprentices realize it, the better they shall be in the future.”

Ezio’s hand moved from his chin to stroke at a cheek and Leonardo nuzzled into the touch with a faint smile.

“Then they can just visit every other week,” Leonardo suggested, looking at Ezio with wide, hopeful eyes.
Ezio sighed. “I would deny them any kind of contact with you for anything short of a dire emergency but,” he stressed when Leonardo looked about to argue again, “If you still insist it, then I suppose I can draw up a schedule of days they may come.” Promising Leonardo, grudging as it was, felt like pulling a hook up his throat. Every part of his mind rebelled against the very notion but Leonardo can be just as stubborn as him in his own way and the bright look he received in return eased his misgivings if only slightly.

Leonardo moved around the table and encircled his arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss which Ezio returned full-heartedly, wrapping his own arms around the artist’s waist and pulling him closer.

There was a squeak in the direction of the stairs and Ezio immediately swiveled around, shielding Leonardo protectively as he did so, only to be met with the sight of one other recruit, eyes wide as they happened upon the tender scene.

“I-I um… I… Sorry for interrupting!” Sergio stammered, hastily running back upstairs, face a bright red blush.

Ezio growled and began to mutter under his breath as he stalked towards the stairs.

Leonardo simply laughed and pulled him back, capturing his lips into another kiss.

“Sí, sí you can scare your poor recruit later at another time but your lover has not seen you in several months. Will you ignore him and willingly walk away from him?” Leonardo grinned.

Ezio’s lips quirked devilishly. “No, of course not. Who am I to deny you at least this much?” he chuckled and closed in once more.

I'm not OP but wow, this fic so cute >.< I wish I could read more.

Passerby!Anon thinks this is absolutely adorable. Everyone likes Leonardo!

WELL DONE WRITER ANON YOU HAVE BROKEN MY HEART. HERE. HAVE A FRAGMENT OR TWO.

This is so amazing writer anon! Please Please Please continue this! I'm a masocist for this kind of thing! My heart wants to burry me in the ground with my tears but still hoping for a happy ending!

D'AWWWWWWWWWWW! Random!Anon is grinning madly. This has ALL the warm fuzzies!

Nice job for your first fic here, and welcome!

Mmm. Heart fragments marinated in tears. Delish! Glad to oblige you.

We'll see. Desmond is pretty content to just stay this way, but I have an idea or two to poke around. Trying to see if any of it'll take off now. Glad you enjoyed!

Really sad this fill was never completed. I come back to it time o time and just sigh. So many of the fills I like aren't complete.

This was AMAZING! It's been two years this was posted, but I hope the praise still reaches you. Seeing Ezio being in his natural environment is always a delight. <3

Aww, this was so sweet. Poor Des, no matter what he tries, it never works.

I don't care anoning because then I won't get the reply.

IS THIS UP ON AO3 YET, I WANT TO KUDO THE SHIT OUT OF IT.

Oh, I definitely want to see this!
Seconded!

I will bake you all the cookies you could ever want to the person who writes this!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!

Why is this not on AO3.

I'm actually writing one like this ATM, though Malik is actually really nice to Altair, and sex happens.

Ooh this is really interesting! Is there more?

I..I can't...

This is too sad. ;_; At least he is no longer physically there.

This was absolutely incredible. Holy shit, thank you for writing this.

I just read the entire thing and I love this fic so much! Please come back author-anon!

T.T oh please, please! Are you going to continue? I have been dying for months, more than a year now T^T please don't tell me its been abandoned this is one of the few good Omega Altair fics out there.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 380 of 385

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

[Slowly building FILL] Re: Haytham/Connor, curiosity killed the cat. (tw: slavery/servitude)

[Slowly building FILL] Re: Haytham/Connor, curiosity killed the cat. (tw: slavery/servitude)

[FILL 2/?] Time travel request

Nest

Nest 2

Re: Nest 2

Re: Nest 2

Re: [Fill] Listen

Re: [Fill] Listen

Re: Nest 2

Re: [Fill] Listen

Re: [Fill] Listen

Re: Prometheus Unbound 2/?

Re: Fill: Polyamorous Ezio/Recruits [2/2]

Re: Desmond/Malik: Bleeding Love (2/2)

Re: Fill 3/3 (Malik x Altair, I should have noted)

Re: Raising your ancestors

Re: Raising your ancestors

Re: Eternity in the Hands (4) [End]

Re: Blind!Altair/Malik maybe?

Re: Companion Piece to Apple of Eden 1

Re: NON-FW - Shattered AU - Frostbite - Apple of Eden (alt. end ) 37

Re: Filled: Supply and Demand

Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [14.5/?]

Re: ^ That's part 3a. This is part 3b (I fail).