asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Discussion
no subject
(Anonymous) 2012-11-08 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)So, I want Connor to see his father being nice to animals while they're working together. Maybe he comes back from stealing that uniform to find Haytham playing with a dog, or maybe he has a habit of throwing a few crumbs to any chicken they pass, or maybe he causally pets the cows they come across, whatever anon likes. What Connor thinks about that is also up to anon.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2012-11-08 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)A New Perspective (1/1)
(Anonymous) 2012-11-11 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)---
'Oh I'm sorry, would you like me to come along? Hold your hand perhaps? Provide kind words of encouragement?'
Connor huffed.
Merely over twelve hours after meeting his father have just passed, Connor had firmly established an infinitely brewing animosity towards the man. The Englishman was horribly conceited, insultingly sarcastic, and unbearably obstinate—traits that ate away at the native's already scarce patience. Not only was his personality intolerable, but in addition he seemed to lack any resolve to help his temporary trustee, his son, and albeit they were still enemies, the entirety of the definition of "truce" barely came into play unless it benefitted his father's self-interests.
First he was rudely ounces on by his own father from the ceiling of a church, and now here Connor was, plotting to mug and rob a poor off-duty officer of his clothing in winter weather while his own father would sit and relax in waiting.
How ridiculous, the native thought, gritting his teeth.
But nonetheless, compromises must be made to achieve goals. And then Connor struck, whistling to the man off duty near the corner of the city's alleyways, quickly silencing him with a firmed fist to the neck, and proceeded to strip the officer of his garments. And with his luck, the breeches were too tight, the coat barely held together to adjust to his broad shoulder length, and the crotch area was so poorly knitted that the seams were nearly tearing apart, prior to Connor even donning the outfit.
His father would never be forgiven for this, this… humiliation.
Connor promptly returned to the alley in which he promised to meet his father, ready to encounter a snarky remark from the man for how ridiculous he looked and preparing a comeback to counteract it. He stomped, turned the corner, and then—
There was Haytham Kenway, the Grand Master of the oppressive Templars—his father, he—
He was feeding chickens. Not just chickens, but dogs and kittens, and some pigeons, and…
Good lord, he giggled.
Connor deadpanned at his father's expression, one of a softer, kinder look in juxtaposition to the painful hours he had spent with him. And he was smiling and laughing as the dog nipped at his fingers, barking merrily and wagging its tail. Haytham leaned down on one knee to scratch the kitten's ears with one hand, while humming, while the other was occupied with gratuitous amounts of food. He kept grabbing from his back pocket handfuls of food, as if his breeches were a manufacturing center of animal feed.
Individuals tending gently to animals was a comforting and relatable image; Connor fed animals throughout all his visits to Boston and New York and got much enjoyment out of it, but it was normal since he saw himself as generally good-natured, but this…
This was just wrong, outright disturbing, and obscene.
But Connor could not help but smile. He felt a warmth growing in his chest, constructing sentiment towards the man who he, just moments ago, saw as a primary enemy and a target doomed for assassination by his hands. But he couldn't help that feeling; it almost reminded him of his mother—
Haytham promptly turned around when his son tried to quietly approach another angle to look at his expression. The older man cleared his throat and dusted off the massive amounts of accumulated animal feed that wove itself into his breeches.
"You certainly appear… interesting, in that apparel, Connor. Say that of a grown man who tried to wear a toddler's outfit. Needless to say, it's rather charming on you," scoffed his father, smirking and laughing down upon his son.
An obvious cover-up.
Connor would have retorted, were it not for the fact he was resisting to laugh from the fact that all the animals flocked around him, begging for more affection. Haytham tried to dismiss them and their existence, pushing the animals away gently with his leg and arm, but the animals only clung more to his boots and cape. There was an undenyable flush in his father's cheeks, but Connor said nothing upon the matter as they both headed to the warehouse while stifling a chuckle.
Maybe his father was not such a bad man as Connor had thought.
Re: A New Perspective (1/1)
(Anonymous) 2012-11-11 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)Re: A New Perspective (1/1)
(Anonymous) 2012-11-11 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)Also:
...as if his breeches were a manufacturing center of animal feed
this gave me the most peculiar and hilarious mental image I've had in a week. You don't want to know where the animal feed was coming out of. *sporfle*
OP
(Anonymous) 2012-11-11 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)Seriously. This is all kinds of adorable and I have to join the anon above in saying that it's even cuter than what I imagined when I wrote that prompt.
I just.
...I'm just gonna sit here and smile like an idiot. You've made my day :D