asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.6
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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
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

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The news of Revere's disappearance came as a blow to morale amongst the rebels. The news of Paul's wife and child going missing as well was a personal disturbance to Jefferson. Paul had been a good friend. They'd eaten together, worked together, fought together - there was enough blood spilt and mingled between them that they could have been blood related. While Paul's outgoing and noisy personality was off putting at times, it was made up in his enthusiasm and passion for life. He wondered if the family were being kept together, if they were alive even. In times like these, there was little chance to recover their bodies let alone their lives.

There was no time for mourning, not for Paul nor for his gentle, calm, and collected wife who was able to control her boys with a single look, nor his son, life cut short.

The informant had a slouch in his posture. Paul had been liked well enough and it was a sadness for them all. Jefferson patted the man on the back and invited him to rest.

When Ratonhnhaké:ton entered the safehouse that evening, he brought fresh meat - rabbits, he explained, from the outer edge of the city. Jefferson had made scarce response, devoting himself to paperwork and maps. Finally forced to open up, he admitted the tragedy, watched the conflict upon Ratonhnhaké:ton's face, and turned to his plans again. He didn't want to be distracted. Perhaps Paul's disappearance had to do with Jefferson's impious affections towards cultivating those impure thoughts glorifying Ratonhnhaké:ton.

No. No, they were not. They only sought to state the truth. The truth was that Ratonhnhaké:ton was a handsome man, and kind too once the layers of bull-headed focus were scratched away. Jefferson sensed that this war had changed something in Ratonhnhaké:ton and he regretted not having met him prior. His thoughts were not impure. They did not linger on the shape of his lips or the dark brown of his nipples that were occasionally (and cruelly) exposed, nor the sky blue that radiated from his eyes. And they did not dare wonder at those shapely legs and fine waist, his hips hugged by furs and leathers and broad crimson sashes. Jefferson forced them down. He was simply admiring something to be striven for in his own body.

"I am sorry," said Ratonhnhaké:ton.

"Revere was an able and valuable man," murmured Jefferson. "He was endeavouring to loosen the Bluecoat grip on the city. Neighborhood by neighborhood, he was winning the people's trust and support."

Yes, Paul had been well liked. And it was Jefferson's fault for not providing more protection for the man the people had placed their faith in. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Their rebellion was fading.

"I can do it."

"Pardon, sir?"

"I said, I can continue Revere's work," repeated Ratonhnhaké:ton, dragging a chair out to sit opposite. His body had coiled in it's eager intensity, waiting to be released. "If the citizens fight for us, we will replace Washington with a new leader."

"The people do not need another leader," said Jefferson.

"I do not understand."

"This country must be led by the people."

Ratonhnhaké:ton leaned back, his chair creaking with the change of weight. During the time it took, Jefferson thought it might crack and fall apart underneath Ratonhnhaké:ton. It held, fortunately, and Ratonhnhaké:ton tilted his head - Jefferson wasn't sure whether it was a more avian or canine tic - to consider what had been said. This slow contemplation wasn't from a lack of wit, quite the opposite, but allowed Ratonhnhaké:ton to carefully examine his thoughts in the relative protection of the safehouse. He wasn't being forced to make a quick decision as in most of his combat situations.

"What would you have me do?"

Jefferson smiled to himself. There was only one thing that could be done. He had not been previously privileged to issue this order, but it was clear now that Revere's work was done - his capture had signalled and broken something. No more peace.

He looked to the man in front of him, stared deep into those eyes, and did not flinch, blink, or otherwise indicate his passivity. Something changed in those eyes as he stared, a tightening of the lips, and they found themselves leaning in, a mutual knowledge of what had to be done next. Ratonhnhaké:ton respected him, a grim baring of his teeth in what one could call a smile, if one regularly enjoyed the company of vicious men and animals. Under the table their knees bumped together.

"Cry 'Havock!' and let slip the hounds of war."

***
Still fuelled by the energy of his adrenaline, Ratonhnhaké:ton was not quiet when he returned to the courtyard where Jefferson had first waited for him. He growled when he discovered that the man in question was not there. To him this man was infuriatingly intriguing. To be met with respect from Jefferson without having to ask for it, wrestle it and pin it, without having to point out the many successes he had made in the name of the patriots, now the rebels, was strange and alien. Scrambling into a tree, Ratonhnhaké:ton perched and waited for the fire-haired man, his informal commander.

***
When he finally managed to shake his Bluecoat tails, Jefferson was not surprised to find Ratonhnhaké:ton up high in their meeting place. The way the man lounged was obscene - hips jerked up slightly due to the branch's curvature, languid like a lion or a panther, feet bracing him against any gusts of wind. Always alert, though, never for a moment letting himself be distracted. Jefferson felt like prey.

Ratonhnhaké:ton slid down from the tree, his beaded belt flipping up with the momentum. He grabbed Jefferson by the upper arm and pulled him behind the tree, into a haystack. Pinning him there, a hand over the slighter man's mouth, Ratonhnhaké:ton listened as footsteps ran by. Heart pounding, Jefferson tried not to struggle against Ratonhnhaké:ton, an adrenaline shock from the realisation of how close they were to danger.

"You are late and you brought trouble," huffed Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Jefferson grumbled against the hand, eyes narrowing. His skin was flushed, warm from the smothering air in the haystack, and he was finding it hard to breathe. Wriggling, he tried to communicate his needs, but found himself trapped with a leg thrown over his waist to stop him from moving. After some effort he slid a hand free to clutch at Ratonhnhaké:ton's wrist. Even the stale air was better than nothing, and he gasped it in as quietly as he could.

That was when he realised how close they were.

"Not my fault. I did my best to lose them," protested Jefferson.

Ah, that was quite-

"Not good enough, evidently."

-oh. Another spot of colour rose to Jefferson's cheeks, quite unrelated to the heat. He had heard that the natives of this land could be quite large and strong in physical appearance. But this-

"Maybe they saw you," teased Jefferson.

Ratonhnhaké:ton shifted closer. Normally, at this point Jefferson would point out that he couldn't hear any other Bluecoats coming through and that they should move on. Normally, at this point, he wasn't being kept cuddle captive by a six foot three native that could tear him apart if he chose to. Instead, said native man had pulled him very close, enveloping Jefferson with safe, nice arms and the bulge of his flaccid manhood pressed against Jefferson's thigh.

At Jefferson's remark, Ratonhnhaké:ton tugged a lock of red hair.

"They have left," Jefferson pointed out.

"I know."

"Then why-"

He made a noise of surprise as Ratonhnhaké:ton pecked him on the cheek, before untangling himself from their awkward positions.

"I trust you," said Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Jefferson swore he saw a mischievous glint in the man's eye, a tiny smirk to emphasise it. "Come along."

Jefferson lay there for a few seconds, dazed by the amount of sensory input Ratonhnhaké:ton had lavished upon him. He knew he should be disgusted but it was just a kiss. Innocent. He spluttered for a moment, brain trying to catch up, then rolled out of the haystack.

Damn Ratonhnhaké:ton and his quiet charisma that snuck up on you and held you like the maws of a bear trap.

Focus!

This was for Paul, for the innocents murdered, for a world that did not deserve insanity. There was no time to wonder what these touches meant from this man he chose to admire. There was a signal to be lit and a rebellion to come to its close. Jefferson knew that it would not be him to confront Washington, to remove the source of power, but the shapeshifter that was now waiting for his instructions.

Ratonhnhaké:ton was only being friendly to secure their alliance. Why else would he be so gentle towards him? Jefferson closed his eyes and shook his head, and web that didn't clear his mind, he pressed his palms over his eyes. When he opened them, Ratonhnhaké:ton had his arm raised to touch Jefferson's shoulder but pulled away at the last moment.

Jefferson reached out instead, patting Ratonhnhaké:ton's forearm reassuringly.

"The people are ready and the signal has been prepared. My man at the military will help you," he said.

Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't pull away. He stepped closer, picking some hay from Jefferson's hair.

"It is the beginning of the revolution," he said, and bent to kiss Jefferson on the lips.

Tilting his head back, Jefferson accepted it, eyes staying open even as Ratonhnhaké:ton's closed in sadness. Jefferson had the overwhelming feeling that he might never see this man again. They broke away, Jefferson to continue staring at Ratonhnhaké:ton, a hand raised to touch his lips. Not alone. They would never see each other alone again.

"When this madness is over, I want you to find me," said Jefferson. "Please."

"I will try, although you may not remember what has happened," promised Ratonhnhaké:ton.

"I am sure I will."

Jefferson clapped Ratonhnhaké:ton on the back and watched as he flew away, waiting for the explosion down by the fort, gathering his men for the final fight.

***

FIN?

No fin...? Pretty pwease? *makes ridiculous puppy eyes*

This was seriously awesome. You made me a really happy OP, anon. And I love how you paid attention to Paul's disappearance - even with all his faults, I've come to like Paul in the game, so his disappearance in the DLC (and the fact that it was almost blatantly ignored throughout the rest of the game) made me sad.

I had a funny image stuck in my head when I finished this part... Imagine dlc!Connor returning to his real!Connor body, like in the end of the dlc, and going to find Jefferson (whom we sadly didn't see in the game itself). Then he goes: Well, you know, sir... I already know you and... we kinda kissed and stuff... lol imagine poor Jefferson.

But anyway, even if you decide to stop here, I really love the fill and a thousand thanks for filling the request, anon, you're wonderful <3

Shhh, it's okay, sweet OP. I've got an epilogue planned.

I ended up liking Paul as well. He was just boisterous and loud, and the most enthusiastic GPS I have ever had the pleasure of dealing with, but that clashed badly with Connor. Yes, he invaded Connor's personal space but he seems like a very tactile person. He's not an annoying character just an annoying level design. (Although I do admit that I really enjoyed the Midnight Ride.)

Well, as I said, I have an epilogue and it goes something like you're imagining. :) Thank you for being such a lovely OP.

I've got an epilogue planned. I'm so glad to hear that ;____;

Ah, on the contrary - thank you for being such an awesome author!anon. You're the sweetest, I just love this fill to pieces... Really looking forward to the epilogue <3

The sun was high, crickets chirping loudly in the heat of summer. Martha kept herself inside, in the cool of the study, windows thrown open in the hopes of catching even the smallest breeze. She couldn't focus on her book, unable to sit comfortably, and her gaze kept drifting to the fields outside. The workers were in the shade, sleeping off the hottest part of the day.

From the forest a man emerged on horseback. Martha perked up, squinting against the glare of the sun against the fields. The horse was well groomed - Martha could see the lustre of it's fine coat even from this far. The man was in a white and blue coat, but it was difficult to tell who he was. Martha was quite sure that she had never met him before but something seemed familiar about his noble posture and hood. Despite her chronic illness, her eyesight was still sharp.

As the horse drew closer, it became evident that this man was a native. His handsome jaw caught Martha's attention first, then the armbands and other symbols of his people. And then she remembered where she had seen him; on a cancelled wanted poster that Thomas had brought home not long ago. He'd been quite frazzled by his last trip to New York, wandering the house in the middle of the night, or losing his concentration in the middle of a conversation. It worried her to see him like this, which he did not want for fear of damaging her already delicate health.

The native man hitched his horse under a tree and slung a bag of feed over a low branch with a trough of water. With nothing better to do, Martha decided to see what the man wanted herself. Let the maids rest a bit longer with their late luncheon, she was the lady of the house and she would give this man her respect, native or not. The gentle rapping of the doorknocker surprised her - the stranger was large and she hadn't expected a high level of motor skills.

When she opened it, Martha had a proper look at the man. Immediately his fine features stood out to her. The high cheekbones, pensive eyes, and full lips were all part of a greater whole that made up a remarkable face. He was really quite pretty, she mused.

"Good day, sir. My name is Martha Jefferson. What may I do for you?" she greeted.

"I am looking for Mister Thomas Jefferson," he said, and good lord his voice was exquisite. "My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Well, Radonhakehton, my husband is in town but he'll be back by this afternoon if you'd care to wait. I apologise in advance for mangling your name. My French teacher always said I had a lazy tongue." She smiled, hoping to ease the serious face from the young man. While he didn't smile as broadly as she had hoped at her little joke, he did let out a huff of laughter. "Well, come in from the heat and get that coat off. It makes the heat worse just staring at it. And weapons by the door, please."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, pushed his hood off and removed his weapons, laying them on the sideboard by the door gently so he didn't chip the lacquer. Well he certainly was prepared with all of those knives and guns and even a bow! Martha wasn't sure if she'd ever seen such an armoury on one person before. She watched in fascination as his holsters and bracers were unbuckled, finally leaving the man in only his clothes.

"You must be a well-respected warrior of your people," said Martha.

"I do not know if well-respected is the right word for it," replied Ratonhnhaké:ton. "I am sure there would be a few that would dearly love to see me fail."

"Jealousy, my dear. Now, I have one last request and that's to remove your boots. Thomas upsets the maids so when he tramps mud into the study. It's terribly sticky stuff and the carpets have borne the brunt."

She left him to undo those alarmingly high boots, the leather coming well over his knees and asked for some fresh lemonade to be brought into the parlour. When she returned, she found the native had carefully leant his boots against the others in the hall and was patiently waiting for her.

"Mrs Jefferson, I would not want to be a bother-" he began, and his expression was so heartfelt and genuine that Martha had to interrupt.

"No, Rad- Ratonhnhaké:ton, it is no trouble. Any friend of Thomas is a friend of mine, and I would so love for some news from New York. Thomas has not been back lately and I only have some of the other wives to exchange letters with and Lady Washington does tend to go on a bit about her orchard. Now come, into the parlour with you and we shall watch for Thomas together."

He clutched at the bundle of fabric that was his coat and obediently followed her, hugging it to his chest. Awkwardly he sat, looking about the room until one of the girls brought a tray in with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. Then he relented clutching at his coat and held the glass with both hands instead.

"How do you know my husband?" asked Martha.

Ratonhnhaké:ton gave her a wry smile.

"We have fought together."

He sipped at his drink, his eyes widened (and Martha realised belatedly that this may have been the first time he had tasted lemonade), and he sipped again.

"This is nice. Thank you," he said, setting the glass down.

They sat there, Ratonhnhaké:ton staring at the books on the shelf, then to the portraits on the wall.

"I am afraid I do not have much to tell you," he said. "They are making good progress on recovering the shipyard where the fire was a year and a half ago. And the ruins are being cleared out for new houses. It seems to me that New York is a city that enjoys being on fire."

His grip loosened on his coat, and he let it rest on his lap. His white waistcoat almost blended with his shirt, the collar undone, revealing defined collarbones and a length of neck barely obscured by an unusual necklace. Martha thought his attire was all rather scandalous - he was almost naked in this state!

"Well, it is rather dense," agreed Martha.

That was all that was needed to break the ice. They chatted amicably after that, until the sound of an approaching horse made them turn their heads. Martha got up to bustle to the front door to greet her husband. Their voices spilled into the parlour.

"Martha, dearest, why is there a small armoury at the front door?" asked Jefferson as he stepped in.

"We have a guest," replied Martha.

She looked back to the parlour where Ratonhnhaké:ton emerged, pulling his coat back on.

"Oh," murmured Jefferson. "You're the man in the white hood."

He fainted.

***
"Honestly, Martha, I am quite alright my love. I do not know what came over me but I assure you I am fine," said Jefferson.

He glanced at Ratonhnhaké:ton, unsure of what to do next. George had shown Jefferson the artefact before he had taken off to find Ratonhnhaké:ton. The visions that came after were horrible, forcing Jefferson to flee New York for the time being. But there had been some pleasant ones - mostly with the man currently sitting as primly as he could on a chair that was too small for him.

"What do we do? I promised you."

Jefferson thought for a moment, staring at the beautiful face unmarked by the powers of the Red Willow. His eyes were different, a deep hazel-brown, but equally as captivating as the blue.

"I will talk to Martha. Did you find her likeable?" asked Jefferson.

"Yes, she was polite and intelligent. She didn't seem to mind my heritage," said Ratonhnhaké:ton.

He squirmed, uncomfortable about something other than the chair.

"What is wrong?"

"You keep slaves," said Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Jefferson's heart sank.

"They are treated the same as any white servant," replied Jefferson. "We have freed several in the past, but they did not leave. Those that did leave came back. Essentially they are free on all but paper and it is to protect them."

"You should abolish slavery," said Ratonhnhaké:ton.

"This country is not ready for it. Sadly, I believe it will be the cause of another war and the people are weary, Ratonhnhaké:ton. It could not be sustained."

They lapsed into silence, Jefferson's fingers itching to touch Ratonhnhaké:ton again, but fearing his right to do so had been revoked. He wanted to comfort the man, tell him yes, slavery was wrong, slavery should be abolished, that he bought slaves to give them a better life not in evaluation of how much labour he could get out of them. The freed ones enjoyed a comfortable life on his estate, working for their accommodation and meals. They were educated and clothed snugly for winter. There were no whips, and had no cruelty.

But he couldn't.

"I cannot break your relationship with your wife. You clearly adore her and it would be wrong of me-"

"No, Ratonhnhaké:ton, let me speak to her. This will not destroy us, I promise you."

***
Martha had warmed to the idea quickly. Ratonhnhaké:ton had come around to it in the end, with words of reassurance and coaxing touches.

Thomas sighed, turning over in bed, caressing his wife's cheek as she was hugged from both sides, protected from the world, blissfully content and secure in the knowledge that the three of them were in this together until the very end.

***
Actual fin now.

b'awwww I grew fond of Martha right away, she's very sweet. Also, I like your reference to slavery - as painful as the topic is, people often tend to oversee the fact that not everything was rainbows and sweetness.

I almost suspected Jefferson's going to be blissfully ignorant, but it seems plausible that he was exposed to the 'graces' of the apple.

In the end, what else can I say than thank you, anon. I really appreciate your efforts - it's such a shame Connor/Jefferson doesn't strike the fancy of a wider public. Thanks again for the fill, you're a wonderful author!anon <3

Thank you, OP! I was going to have Jefferson be ignorant as well, but he was pretty close to Washington at the time, so I figured Washington would at least show the Apple to Jefferson. Also, I felt the need to address a couple of issues about Jefferson: he did own slaves (but he was kind to them - to the extent that I say he is? Probably not, but I think we can use the Apple visions to excuse the higher levels of contemporary values in Jefferson.), and he had a wife whom he loved dearly.

Not much is known about dear Martha, except she probably died of undiagnosed diabetes and the strain of bearing seven children (the first from a previous marriage...only two children made it to adulthood, and only one past 25...thanks Wikipedia!). She died not long after giving birth to her last child. Jefferson, overwhelmed by grief, "was led from the room almost in a state of insensibility by his sister Mrs. Carr, who, with great difficulty, got him into his library where he fainted, and remained so long insensible that they feared he would never revive."

Thank you, OP. If you keep putting Jefferson/Connor posts up, then who knows? I might be able to fill some more in the future. It's a cute ship.

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