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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.6
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Open
Sky World
≈ 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!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive
#3 (Delicious.com) Archive <-- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Re: FILL: Short Change Heroes, Part 23b/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-26 01:07 am (UTC)(link)“I am grateful for it,” Connor let out a deep sigh.
“He’s on the move, ‘en,” Dobby jerked her head in the direction of their tail. “I’ll take the roofs?”
“That will do well,” Connor replied, “And I thank you for taking Duncan’s place on this.”
“Not a problem, the man needs a break. Especially since Clipper came back from Trenton slightly worse for wear,” Dobby waved off. “I’ll be yer eyes in the sky.” With that, she gave Connor a quick salute before speeding off and taking an effortless, flying leap across to the next rooftop. At the same time, Connor scrambled down the side of the building to street level. After all, completing the tasks of the Brotherhood always took precedence over all else. Even one’s own personal discord.
****************
From his viewpoint causally leaning against the column the general store across the street from the church, Thomas didn’t recognize Connor initially. Rather, he intently focused on picking out this William Saint-Prix character. Considering he was the next target of the Hessian, it would easier to track down the murderous kraut this way.
This time, he didn’t utilize his usual Templar informants to find Saint-Prix. Instead, he relied on his personal network of low-level fiends, the ones who had no idea he worked for the Order. He always kept a few at hand and outside of Haytham’s sniffing around. If only to never put all his eggs in one basket. Lord knew when one would have to disappear or find himself on the wrong side of his current employers. Not to mention, languishing in jail for three weeks certainly made him question just how important old Kenway considered him.
Gaze locked on Saint-Prix, Thomas missed the bob of Connor’s black hood as she slid her way through the crowd exiting the church. Tossing away the toothpick he chewed on, he nearly ran into her heels. Of course, she would be here. Their endgames were in alignment, after all. Thinking quickly, he ducked into an alleyway just to her right as she paused and spun on her heel at what he could only assume was his presence. Counting to ten, he stepped out from his hiding place to follow.
His utter shock at seeing Connor’s faint grin when Saint-Prix gave her a deep bow and brushed his lips across the tips of her fingers caused him to nearly crash into a troop of Patriots hanging about along the sidewalk. Thankfully, he swiftly recovered with only their glare of annoyance at his proximity. However, he almost lost the other two to the crowd. Remaining a solid length behind the pair without discovery was admittedly a challenge. The Sunday bustle helped conceal him.
His expression remained stunned as he watched the two nonchalantly traverse the boulevard. Not once did Connor shove the fop away or purposely keep her usual distance. If anything, she fell into easy step with him before dropping a hand to his forearm.
It was evident Saint-Prix he was the moneyed type. His dusky, black long coat bore a black hood. Both were lined with scarlet silk, which matched the trim of his black tricorne. Beneath it, he wore a black waistcoat edged in white lace and clasped with gold buttons. The ruffles of his shirt were lace as well. His spotless white breeches spun of heavy white cotton, they were tucked into his shiny, black dragoon boots.
Thomas was able to get a better look at the bastard’s face when turned and dropped a handful of gold coins into the hands of the street urchins who appeared in front the pair. Save his tanned skin, he bore a patrician look. High cheekbones, full lips, a sharp nose and bright, brown eyes. A delicately trimmed black goatee completed the appearance of a dandy. His easy smile and brief chat with the urchins softened his visage. Especially when he sent them off with a leisurely wave.
Swallowing down the flare of alarm at how casually Connor allowed the smarmy tosser to steer her into a tavern after a while, Thomas let out a snort of irritation. Waiting for a bit, he slipped into it as well, using a handful of customers as cover. Taking a seat in the darkened corner, he ordered a pint of ale. The Assassin and her apparent mark were huddled in deep conversation. Taking table nearest to the back door, they could be gone in a matter of seconds. Not that he blamed them.
Huddling down at Connor’s gaze sweeping the dining area for what seemed the millionth time, Thomas waved off the middle-aged tavern owner’s wife for a refill and continued nursing his drink.
The two talked for some time. While the rich one conversed in an animated fashion, waving his hands about and bobbing his head, Connor remained her usual subdued self. Turned partially to her, Thomas could only make out the measured shift of her shoulders, the relaxed line of her back and the way her flexed her feet along the chair legs. Every so often, she pulled her hood closer about her head and slightly leaned forward. To anyone else, nothing looked amiss. But soon, he could make out how she drummed her fingers along the table in increasing staccato. Or the way her foot thumped along the floor planks in faster rhythm. She even heaved a sigh a few times, her spine snapping tense before relaxing again.
After about an hour or so, Connor gracefully got up from the table. She made no gesture of goodbye but still disappeared out the back door. Coolly moving to his feet, Thomas followed while making sure not to be spotted by her apparent partner.
“I expect more of your skills when it comes to following someone,” she sniffed as soon as he exited the rear of the tavern. Leaning up against the brick wall of the establishment with one foot propped on it, her arms were crossed. Inspecting her nails for a moment, her hard gaze flicked up to meet his. “I realized you were at our back but a few minutes after I caught up with William.”
“Maybe I be wantin’ to draw your attention, sweetheart,” he snapped.
“Whatever you may say to convince yourself,” she sneered.
Barking out a mirthless chuckle, Thomas propped himself up against the wall opposite her and in an identical fashion. Thumbing back his tricorne bought him time enough to give her an obvious once over. Save the slight downward twitch of her lip, she didn’t react to his leering. Not even her usual blush at his gaze colored her cheeks. “So I’m guessin’ ya always be this bloody difficult after a good dicking?”
“A good what?” her expression slid to genuinely curious.
Oh, she had to be fucking pulling his chain, right? “Holy fucking hell!” he threw his hands up in disbelief, “Do ya really not be understadin’? How can ya not get...seriously?!”
Her frown deepened as she replied, “Uh, I do not quite comprehend what you mean.”
Rolling his eyes, he shrugged and drawled, “All I be sayin’ is ya got a hunger in ya girl. Somethin’ fierce ‘n panting that I wasn’t expecting when we, well, when we went ‘n did our thing, ya know?” Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he smirked, “Back in the cabin? Last night?”
Steeling her voice to flat, she squared her shoulders and replied, “Speak clearly, Hickey.”
His gaze darkened, purposefully sweeping over her again in a way that made her hate how her stomach curled and tightened with sudden heat. The accompanying crackle tingling along her skin didn’t help matters either. “I think you know what I be speakin’ ‘bout,” he slowly grinned, “After all, ya ain’t never been the daft sort, love-”
“I assume that you mean when we fucked?”
What the hell had gotten into her?! She certainly had no idea what prompted her to use such words usually reserved for his ilk. Not to mention how satisfying it felt to say it out loud, as though a heavy weight was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps it also had something to do with the lick of satisfaction coursing through her at how his eyebrows seemed to shoot up to his hairline at her retort.
Unfortunately, she also felt her cheeks sear scarlet as soon as the last word left her lips. Swallowing even as she pulled herself straighter up against the wall, she added, “That was what you meant to say, yes? Or perhaps I am mistaken?”
“You sure in the hell looked surprised to see me back ‘ere in Boston, darlin’,” Hickey abruptly changed the subject. His brittle smile accompanying his narrowed gaze only heightened her irritation.
She should’ve known getting rid of him wouldn’t prove so easy. “Hardly,” Connor brusquely retorted. “I have never underestimated your propensity for appearing in places where you obviously do not belong.”
“Like all up in ya?”
“Mr. Hickey…” she clenched one of her hands in warning.
“Ah, she calls me ‘Mister,’” he snickered while absentmindedly scratching behind his ear. “Now I be upgraded to fancy titles ‘n such? So lemme ask ya this, lass,” he leaned in nearly nose to nose with her, “What do a bloke be havin’ to do between them comely legs ‘o yours to get back on a first name basis, eh?”
Admittedly, he braced for her slap across the face. But the sheer force of it sent his head snapping back with a painful jolt. Thank God for his thick skull and vast experience in taking a blow. It allowed him to recover quick enough to hear her viciously reel off something that sounded awful peeved in her native tongue. Not that he gave a flying fuck.
Cracking his neck from side to side and slowly rubbing his smarting chin, his smirk deepened. “That, love,” he deliberately said, eyes flashing with savage fury, “Was untoward.”
“I should not let my temper get the best of me,” she grit, chest heaving with restraint.
“So don’t be fuckin’ apologizing if ya don’t fuckin’ mean a bloody word ‘o it!” Thomas mocked.
“Pardon me for your notion that I was doing anything of the sort.”
“What in the fuck-?!”
Squaring her shoulders, Connor swiftly pushed herself up off the wall. “I have nothing else to relay. Good day-”
“Not so fast, poppet,” he growled. Reaching to snatch her by the upper arm, he came up sort at the sight of her left bracer blade sharply flashing in the pale sunlight.
“Consider your next actions, Hickey-”
“You do the bloody same, Connor!” he barked.
Eyes darting to his right hand, she immediately made out the glint of his dirk. Rocking back on her heel, she readjusted her balance to defensive. It was subtle, but he had years of experience on her, as well as recently witnessing her in the field. “We appear to be an impasse.”
“Speak for yerself,” he drawled, tone sliding to nonchalant despite how smoothly he palmed his weapon. “I just be defendin’ me self from some balmy chit who drew on me first. What, with ya assaultin’ me and now looking to gut me for no goddamned reason!”
His icy emphasis on his last words caused her to visibly flinch. Yet she refused to tear her gaze away from his.
Re: FILL: Short Change Heroes, Part 23c/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-26 01:08 am (UTC)(link)“No one,” Connor swallowed. Relaxing slightly, she sheathed her bracer blade. Dark eyes following his motions as he intentionally did the same with his weapon, she slowly repeated, “No one at all, Dobby.”
Well would you fuckin’ look at that horseshit-
“He sure in the hell don’t be lookin’ like no one, darlin’,” Dobby retorted, now at Connor’s side.
Thomas’ eyes swept to this ‘Dobby.’ Yet another Assassin, judging by the similar bracer she wore around her right wrist. In her mish-mash of clothes, she appeared only a bit younger than him. Her flinty, green gaze and implacable expression gave little away beyond that. Add to that how she kept her weapon trained on him, he’d bet dollars to donuts she knew how to use it. Still…
“Yer one of the old country, ‘en?” he purposely softened his accent while forcing his stance to relax. Leaning back, he gave her a playful wink.
Eyes darting to Connor, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod in spite of her openly harried expression, Dobby slightly lowered her weapon and said, “Maybe…what of it strainséir?”
Yep, she was definitely of Ireland. “Oh, just wonderin’ at how lucky Connor be at knowin’ another one like meself-”
“Your accent be plenty wrong to be of my kind,” Dobby interrupted with a defiant jerk of her chin.
“Aye,” he shrugged, steeling an easy smile to his face and throwing his hands up in surrender, “Ya got me, dearie. It be me mo mháthair agus a athair, me folks be of Waterford back on the ‘ole Emerald Isle.”
“Oh yeah, then?” Dobby smirked, “How nice for ya, mo buachaill álainn.” Relaxing a bit, she dropped her hand completely and flashed him a grin. “Still,” she kept her finger on the trigger, “None that explains why you’re having clandestine conversations and whatnot ‘ere in this alleyway with me Connor, yeah?”
“It is nothing,” Connor huffed. If he wasn’t so wound up, Thomas would’ve found it amusing at how Dobby clucked her tongue in disagreement, like a mother hen scolding a child. It was even more apparent in how Connor restlessly swayed from foot to foot while pouting in the other woman’s direction. “I am on my way back inside-”
“Good,” Dobby replied, sheathing her flintlock. Moving to cover Connor’s back, she glanced over her shoulder and gave Thomas a purposeful once over. “Ya sure he ain’t anyone?” she grinned, “He looks like a lout. Well, a handsome lout-”
“Why does everyone always insist on relaying that?” Connor hissed in exasperation.
“‘Cause it be fuckin’ true?” Thomas obstinately shouted back. Whipping her head around, Connor stared at him surprise. “What ‘en, sweetheart?” he snorted, “Ya think I don’t got ears too?”
“I-”
“Besides,” he followed after her, though he made sure to keep his hands in plain sight at seeing Dobby silently flick out her hidden blade at his movements, “We had a deal, right? And last I checked, ya prided yerself on bein’ a woman of your word? Unless ya forgot how to even go ‘bout doin’ that too?”
“What’s he prattling on about?” Dobby stopped in her tracks just before they made it to rear door of the tavern.
“Oh, just makin’ sure ya man in there don’t go getting’ killed, ‘tis all,” Thomas graced with a supposedly innocent smile. “Wouldn’t want yer ranks thinned out none too much, now would we, Connor?” he came to stop just outside arm’s reach of both of them. Seeing the Assassin drop her head and rub the bridge of her nose in frustration, he barked out a chuckle. Swiftly looking between him and Connor, Dobby fixed him with a jaundiced eye before approaching. While she sheathed her hidden blade, she still remained out of his reach. Smart lass, Thomas thought to himself.
“I don’t believe ya ever formally introduced yourself,” she insisted.
“It really is not necessary at all for him to-”
“Come now, Connor! No need to go hidin’ ya allies, yeah?” Thomas mocked with a vicious smile. It widened even more at the utterly furious look she shot him. Rocking back on his heels to appear less threatening, he gave Dobby an exaggerated bow while smoothly saying, “Oh, and I be Thomas-”
“Thomas what?” Dobby insisted.
Still bowed but looking up at her through dark lashes, Thomas smiled, “Seein’ that we be havin’ our own agendas going on here, you can just leave it at ‘Thomas’ miss.”
“That so?”
“Quite so.” Narrowing her eyes for a split second, Dobby waved for him to continue. “Like I be sayin’,” Thomas insisted, “It always be a pleasure to be meetin’ another of the Old Country, Miss…?”
“Call me ‘Dobby,’” she slowly replied.
“Dobby what, madame?” Thomas replied with the politeness of a school boy in front of his headmaster.
“Just ‘Dobby’ will do ya,” she replied with slightly more ease. However, she made no move to curtsy or shake his hand. She didn’t appear to have the patience for such manners. Not if she was one of Connor’s ilk in their little Brotherhood.
“So Connor,” Thomas rose and whipped open the door of the tavern, “Don’t ya think it be high time you go introducin’ me to this William bloke? Considering we gotta so savin’ his life and whatnot.”
Dobby’s eyes darted over to him as he waved them both inside. “And how exactly does he go knowin’ all of this?” she prodded Conner in her arm with an elbow.
Grinding her teeth but following Dobby back inside, Connor muttered, “It is a long story, I’m afraid.”
“And now, ya be stuck with me, lass,” Thomas mocked.
“Unfortunately,” she droned.
As they all made their way back to where William sat at his table and charmed one of the serving women, Connor seriously contemplated how much worse this could all get. By the gods, hopefully it would all be over soon.
Author’s Notes:
Non, absolument pas, ma chérie – “No, absolutely not, my dear” in French.
strainséir? – “Stranger” in Irish Gaelic
mo mháthair agus a athair – “My mother and father” in Irish Gaelic
mo buachaill álainn – “My lovely boy” in Irish Gaelic
Re: FILL: Short Change Heroes, Part 23c/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-26 05:26 am (UTC)(link)Beautiful!
Re: FILL: Short Change Heroes, Part 23c/?
(Anonymous) 2014-03-01 03:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Short Change Heroes, Part 23c/?
(Anonymous) 2014-03-01 11:28 am (UTC)(link)