asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

Entry tags:

assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.3
Fill Only

Get out of my bureau!

☃ 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
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ezio/Leonardo would be so sweet- I can see novices attending

OP loves all of this. I can't stop giggling about this entire thing.
"A way the neighbours surely worried about after the 3rd time they had heard the two of them punching each other in the face repeatedly for about half an hour and then taking it to the bedroom. Yeah, persuasive. "
Love that line, a lot.

Also the thing about driving shopping carts was fucking hysterical!

If it makes you feel any better I have two friends (like... close friends) named Richard and Jonathan, and I didn't realize it till after I'd killed them that I'd done that. :T

*grins* You're welcome, I'm so happy you liked it! It was oodles of fun to write. I think my favorite was Maria lecturing Leo on what a slut her son is ^o^ (Closely followed by creeper!Volpe)

Hee, after these two fills, Alessandro is now my head-canon for the naive new recruit who always ends up in embarrassing positions ^_^

You're welcome, I'm glad you like it! After I wrote it, I re-read your prompt and worried it might not be ok since it seemed like what you really wanted was something much longer with actual, y'know, plot ^.^;;

Um... the more I write this... the more I think it is going to be VERY long and might take some time to actually get to your requested pairing... if I continue to write it the way I have it in my head. It will take some time and there will be other pairings with Il Lupo(Vittorio) prior to Ezio/Il Lupo(Vittorio) and it also will not end with the Ezio/Il Lupo (Vittorio) scene. That is going to happen (for the first time) kind of in the middle I think... I'm really not sure at this point...

I guess my question for you OP is; Are you willing to bear with me? I'm in it for the duration... This might end up being my masterpiece. ROFL

Take as long as you need to write this authoranon.

SWEET JESUS I NEED THIS LIKE WOAHHHHH

I love you so fucking much for that anon.

Dam sorry everyone.

I feel like a doucher making you guys wait, so I'm going to go ahead and post what I've got done. Sorry I'm taking so long, OP. ;~; And on another note, damn you LJ character limit.
___________________________________________________________________________

Every now and then, as Desmond was doing extra tasks in Ezio's memories, like finding those few remaining feather's for Maria or taking down a couple of Borgia flags, thoughts and questions would slip into his head: why did he really need to do these things, would Maria ever speak to her son in a familiar manner to Ezio again, or even occasionally the thought that Ezio's most recent conquest looked an awful lot like him; perhaps they were related. Recently, however, a different question had arisen in Desmond's mind: what was up with this 'Subject 16'? There were all sorts of things that lay hidden in the minds of his teammates about the man, but Desmond dared not ask them. It seemed to be a bit of a taboo subject. So, he decided he would try his best to find those answers on his own.

The others' emails provided no help whatsoever. Apparently none of them discussed it period; he'd simply thought it was just something they didn't want to tell him in order not to freak him out. After that, he tried seeing if any of the computers had saved files or anything on them, but found nothing. He scoured every folder and download, but found nothing other than Rebecca's rather disturbing stash of robot porn. Thus, he had to reluctantly return to doing menial, pointless tasks in the Animus to up his sync. It was during one of these tasks when he grabbed a Borgia flag and promptly broke it in half that he noticed something odd that he quickly realized could aid his search. Glad that the others had finally stopped observing him for the day after Shaun's bitching about having to watch a grown man do nothing but find flags, he ran over to the entrance to one of the underground tunnels, which was glowing in a way that reminded him of Subject 16's glyphs.

Instead of being brought into a dark room with a box or being thrown directly into a puzzle, Desmond opened his eyes and found himself, him, not Ezio, standing on the computer generated platform surrounded by a sea of black with small bits of data disappearing back into the murky abyss. He quickly recognized it as the same type of platform that he had been on the last time 16 had come to him via the cluster puzzles.

In the corner of his vision, he saw a larger bit of data come from what appeared to be out of no where, a ball of ones and 0s glowing in the eerie darkness. Even though he probably should feel some sort of negative emotion such as fear or apprehensiveness at least, Desmond felt nothing of the sort. He actually felt something similar to hope swell in his chest, which only intensified as the ball began to move and sprouted limb-like appendages. These appendages slowly took shape, first molding arms and legs which sprouted detailed fingers and toes. Lastly, the main body of the ball grew and turned into a torso from which a head and neck sprouted. It was almost like the previous time 16 had appeared, but this time the data forming 16's 'body' was complete and showed every detail, leaving no holes or empty space like the previous one.

Desmond took a step forward, reaching a hand out as if to grab for something, but what exactly he was grabbing for was unknown. "Subject 16...?"

The figure nodded, and then a voice emerged from its moving lips, less static-y and broken up than before.

"Yes, Desmond Miles. I am glad I have gotten to speak with you when your comrades are not watching. Finally... my energy supplies have recharged, and I can at last tell you the things that need to be told." Desmond opened up his mouth to ask the questions that had been beating at his mind for the past he doesn't know how long, but a digital finger raised to his lips (when did the other get so close?) silenced him immediately. "Sit," Subject 16 said, gesturing to the artificial looking floor, "and everything will be explained piece by piece as you need it. If you take in too much all at once... well, look how I ended up before my death."

Desmond did as told and sat down Native style, crossing his legs and waiting for Subject 16 to do the same in front of him. At the mention of the other's death, he wanted to apologize, although for what he wasn't exactly sure. He didn't have anything to do with 16's death, after all.

"As you know, at Abstergo I was tagged Subject 16 the same way you were Subject 17. I do have a name, however, and that is Micheal. I'm sure Lucy didn't tell you that; after all, I was one of the dirty secrets, and if you do not listen to my words carefully, Desmond, you'll be the same. Just another bad mark on a scoreboard to be erased before it makes the assassins look bad."

"How can you say that, though? You have assassin blood running through you, just like me! We were born to serve the assassins."

It seemed as though you could feel the emotions in the air where they could not be seen on the digital facial features correctly. Desmond could tell 16 was disappointed for some reason, even though the others facial movements did not go beyond lips moving.

"That, Desmond, is where you are wrong. We are not born to serve the assassins! God, I thought you were smarter than this! How can you not see it, after Minerva talked to you in the vault?"

Subject 16 (Desmond still couldn't manage to get himself to assign this mass of pixels and images a real, human name even if it was his original) threw his arms up in the air in obvious aggravation. Desmond simply sat, listening to his words carefully, if not somewhat annoyed at basically being called an idiot. He had enough of that from Shaun on a daily basis, thank you very much. After a moment, 16 calmed enough to face Desmond again.

"We are not born to serve assassins, nor are we born to kill Templars. We are the children of two worlds! We were born to serve Those Who Came Before, and in extension, all of humanity!"

Then 16 suddenly stood up and was once again standing in black nothingness.

"Wait! You've barely told me anything!" Desmond ran to the side of the platform, watching as the slightly luminous body began to sink into the darkness.

"We've been here for a lot longer than you realize, Desmond. Time is... distorted here. It's been hours that we've been talking and your friends have gone into a frenzy trying to get you to wake up."

Even as Desmond called after him, demanding more answers, 16 did not mention that one of his friends had been watching this little interaction shortly after it began.

Don't mind the herpderp behind the curtain who keeps forgetting to take out the little 'Re:' in the tag line.
_______________________________________________________________________________
When he finally emerged from the Animus, his senses were slow to kick up. He could only hear echo-like voices around him, though he could recognize the panicked tone in all of them. They were repeating something quite often with only a few other words peppering the spaces between it. That word was familiar... what was it?

Oh... that's my name. Desmond.

He tried to ask what they wanted, but all that came out was a confused groan. For a moment, he couldn't quite tell what was what anymore; he couldn't see anything except the blurry shapes when he opened his eyes and the voices were going from completely unintelligible to muffled. He just lay there, waiting for it to all come back to him since trying to sit up was obviously getting him nowhere. In bits and pieces, little snippets of the past Animus session returned to him, starting with ripping a Borgia flag off its perch, then progressing in chronological order from there before finally piecing itself all together with the rest of his memories. That was like a splash of cold water and he snapped up, hitting something with his head in the process... except he didn't remember Rebecca ever putting anything in front of the Animus...

“Bloody fucking hell, Desmond! First you nearly give us a heart attack, then you ram your idiocy swollen head into my face! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Desmond looked up to see Shaun still swearing and clutching onto his nose, a small amount of blood dribbling from between his fingers.

“Uh... whoops?”

“Whoops? Whoops? Is that all you can say is 'whoops'? I told you his brain had fried in that thing.”

Lucy looked at the ranting British man in an annoyed way. “Shaun, can you be quiet for five minutes? Now,” she turned to Desmond once again, her expression softening somewhat into a mixture of compassion and worry, “how are you feeling, Desmond? We thought we lost you in there.”

“What do you mean you thought you lost me? I was there the entire time.” He decided to omit his little visit with 16.

“Well Des, it looks like you may have found a glitch in the system or something; by the time we got back, your vitals had dropped, indicating a loss of synchronization, and all history of everything you did today is gone.”

“Wait, what? Does that mean I have to go back and do all that crap I did today?”

“Yep. And maybe a little bit more.” Desmond could've sworn he heard an 'it serves you right,' from Shaun, but ignored it. “It seems like whatever glitch you found opened up some new 'grey area' memories of Ezio's. So if you need a break from doing annoying crap, go ahead and open up some of those.”

Desmond was about to hop right to it, but when Lucy saw him begin to lie back down again, she jumped into the conversation.

"Do all that after you take a rest. After how long it took to get you to wake up fully this time, I think we need to keep you out of the Animus the rest of the day."

Of course. After he'd finally found a way to get some of the answers he needed, he'd overdone it to the point they wouldn't let him back in. Just wonderful.

All he could do was sigh, nod, and collapse into a tired heap on his sleeping bag. He was out within seconds.

*facepalm*
And ignore the herpderp who keeps forgetting to change the subject line period. |D

It's okay, anon. I'm enjoying this a lot. :3 And I know how hard it can be to remember to change the lines.

OP loves it anon! Honestly, I don't really care who does it, as long as Salai gets what's coming to him. Thank you!

UNF!!! That made passerby!anon happy in the pants...

Anon is a perv and feels kinda dirty for requesting this buuuut.
I offer assorted internet bakery of choice to whoever is going to fill this. Make me feel more of a perv than I already am.

Here's the prompt:
Maria (Auditore) sends young!Ezio to the Doctor to uh, cure his raging hormones. Of course, the Doctor's therapy involves prostate milking.
Bonus points if Ezio feels awkward and rather grossed out at the beginning then he starts to like it more and more until by the last session he manages to reach the most mind blowing, nerve frying orgasm of his life.
And Maria disapproves.

I swear it makes sense in my mind ._.

Captcha says "Yes loalli". Seems like LJ wants it too!

Oh god, Altair and Malik like no other. I totally picture Altair being edged a little (or a lot)

Oh hell yes! Anon also loves milking, so I'm really hoping for a fill for you, OP! I wish I were a writer so I could give you the sticky goodness of this fic xD

Passing through the entry hall later that night, having only just returned from speaking with Marco, Vittorio looked up as the door swung inward and Francesco arrived, escorting a young boy. Vittorio recognized him instantly. Giovanni Borgia! Supposedly he was Cesare’s son although Vittorio had never believed Cesare was really the boy’s father. What was he doing here?! Cazzo! He had been known to the boy as Il Lupo! Cesare never spared the poor child any of his unpleasant business and would often dispense orders to Il Lupo within view and earshot of his son. The boy was young but Vittorio was certain Giovanni would recognize him!

He cast about in panic for somewhere to go but they were right before him, he had no time to flee! The small boy looked up from under long eyelashes and Vittorio froze in terror as dark eyes lit upon him and widened in recognition; grit his teeth against a shout, fear ringing in his ears when the child’s small mouth opened... and then closed again, his eyes drifting up and to the left for a moment. He seemed to be listening. Francesco did not notice. He was saying something but Vittorio could not hear it for the blood rushing in his head; dizzy from holding his breath. After a heart-stopping second, Giovanni looked back up to regard him curiously, staring right through him with unfocused eyes, saying nothing. ‘Dio...’ Vittorio He dared to breathe. What had held the boy’s tongue?

Vittorio could not guess...

“Are you alright?” Snapping out of his stupor, he tore his eyes away from Giovanni’s pale serious face. Francesco was looking at him with brows knit in an expression of concern, leaning far in toward him as if only careful, close-up study of his face could solve the mystery of why he was standing in the entry hall frozen like a statue. Vittorio recovered his composure quickly and leaned back from the invasion with a lowered brow and a frown.

“I am fine Francesco..” He lied smoothly though his heart still hammered in his chest. Francesco straightened back up and Vittorio did the same, brushing the front of his robes as if the Artist-Assassin's proximity had somehow tarnished them. “I was only a bit shocked to see such a young... visitor...?”

“Recruit actually...” The Artist-Assassin smirked, accepting his forged explanation easily. This is Giovanni Borgia. He is ours, born into our ranks but lost to our enemies, now returned. He is our Brother.” Vittorio raised an eyebrow, rather thinking that might not be the full story but he decided against questioning Francesco on it in front of the boy. Francesco knelt before Giovanni and indicated Vittorio by pointing.

“This is Vittorio, Giovanni. He is your brother.” Unsure of what to do, Vittorio took a half step towards them as Giovanni looked up at him again, smiling with eyes that held an understanding Vittorio did not expect. He knelt before the boy also, taking up his small hand and squeezing it gently.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Giovanni.” He smiled as the boy's fingers curled into his palm, large brown eyes deep with a strange wisdom and calm grace which had been the thing to convince him when he was Il Lupo, that the boy could not possibly have been Cesare's offspring.

He did not look as if he had been sleeping well, his eyes ringed with dark smudges.

“It is a pleasure for me too... Vittorio... I am glad you are my Brother.” Giovanni murmured digging his toe into the floor.

Vittorio smiled, releasing the boy's tiny hand and ruffling his thick brown hair as he stood.

“I am glad too Giovanni. Welcome home.”

Someone nudging him made Cecil wake quickly, eyes snapping open and he was instantly awake. It was one of the hotel staff. “Excuse me sir, you can’t be sleeping here,” they said.

“Right, sorry,” and he left quickly without a backwards glance. His back and shoulders hurt but he didn’t complain, that’s what he got to sleeping in a hotel lobby, plus he wasn’t dead or in police custody, both those options were much worse then his current one.

His stomach growled hungrily but the last thing on his mind was food, especially after a night like that. He kept seem them over and over again in his mind’s eye. Still, his stomach continued to complain so if nothing more then to shut it up he dodged into a McDonalds and bought something not totally disgusting, munching on it as he walked.

He didn’t have a plan and he had no idea where he was going. Master Anders had said someone would come for him, but he couldn’t go home, not with those police there. He had no way to get in contact with the Guild either and he knew Jonathan’s home would be sealed since there were two murders in it.

Feeling depressed he sat down on a bus bench with a sigh and tried to think of something. Normally he could come up with fantastic ideas. Brilliant even. Ones that left people in awe. But he didn’t even know where to start, he was lost and more than a little freaked out and he didn’t know what to do. He looked up when someone sat next to him but they had their head buried in a magazine and ignored him. He looked away only to do a double take as he saw, of all things, a pay phone. He could do something, he could try that number again.

Hopping up from the bench Cecil walked quickly over to the pay phone and slid in a few quarters before dialing. He got tone again. No. No! Master Anders had said to call this number and damnit he was getting an answer so God help him! He got the coins back and tried again, and a third time before finally, amazingly, someone picked up.

“Hello Cecil,” he blinked at the voice since he hadn’t had a chance to introduce himself.

“Who is this?” he demanded.

“A friend.”

“Well obviously,” he growled, his patience being very short at this point. “Who are you. Name yourself.”

“Oh, bossy,” he knew the man was grinning. “I have many names, not all of them to be repeated in polite company, but you may call me Erudito if you wish.”

“Why did Master Anders give me your number? Are you a member of the Guild?”

“I am not.”

“Then who do you work for?”

“Myself. And of course, the entire world. Someone has to since everyone has an agenda on how the world is to be run.”

“Why would Anders give me your number?”

“I’m sure I know, I know everything-

“Well isn’t that conceited of you,” he growled.

“No, it’s pretty true. I know everything. I know the Truth, I know the Lies, I know it all,” Cecil didn’t speak, something in his tone didn’t let him argue. He was good at picking out liars, but it sounded like Erudito wasn’t lying. “Now then Cecil, what do you want? I’m a busy man.”

“I don’t know,” he confessed softly. “My Master was killed by Templars and they’re watching my house. I don’t know how to get in touch with the Guild.”

“Ah. So you need help, is that it?”

“…Yes,” he admitted.

“Well I would love to help you. But this isn’t a secure line. Buy a disposable phone and call me again. Which is perfect actually since your time is going to run out right, now,” and then the pay phone gave him tone. He stared at the receiver. How had he known that? It didn’t matter. This guy may have been a bit of a jerk but he was all he had. Now he just had to find a place to buy a phone.

An hour later he was leaving a Radio Shack with a new phone, fully turned on and he as he left he called Erudito again. Growling and muttering to himself all he got was tone the first time but the second time he picked up. “Hello Cecil,” said the mysterious man. Cecil hated mysteries. He liked to know when things happened and why. It was how he’d been taught since a child and how he’d been trained as an apprentice; always find the truth.

“You said you would help me,” he said softly to not let his annoyance come through.

“And I already have,” he said.

“How?”

“You’ll see. I’ve sent someone to help you.”

“Who? And don’t give me any of your mysterious bull shit, just tell me who,” he added the stress making him lash out.

Erudito just laughed, “Fine. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a member of the Guild. You lot always do need the truth to make you shut up. I’m sending a friend.”

“A member of the Guild?”

“Oh good heavens no.”

“What!” he stopped walking and didn’t care if people were staring at him when he yelled.

“There’s more to everything than meets the eye Cecil,” he said soothingly. “I know what needs to be done and right now you don’t need the Guild, for they can’t protect you. Not from what’s coming.”

“W-what does that mean?” he stammered. “What’s coming?”

“A storm, a war. It’s very important that you don’t die. It’s why I didn’t tell the Guild where you are.”

“Then who did you tell?”

“The Assassins,” and Cecil swallowed, quickly glancing over his shoulder fearfully. Like any child raised within the Guild there were stories about both the Templars and Assassins, ones that made you wary and keen to watch your back, sort of like the fairy tales of old to make sure children didn’t wander into the woods. Only these were very real fears. Both the Assassins and Templars only knew so much of the truth, so much of what was real, the Guild knew it all, or at least the fully trained members did. People like Cecil didn’t know the truth, not the full broadness of it anyways.

“Why would you do that?” he hissed and started walking again, this time a bit quicker. “The Assassins would want a member of the Guild to interrogate, same as the Templars.”

“Ah, I did not tell them you were a member of the Guild though. These people don’t even know what the Guild is, they’re too low on the chain. I just told them that one of their own needed their help, if they choose to believe you’re one of them who am I to tell them otherwise?”

“But I’m not,” he hissed, “I’m not an Assassin I’m a Painter and they’ll know.”

“You’re just a novice, as I told them. Trust me, they will protect you.”

“And take me to their leaders.”

“Not these. They’re trying to hide, like you are. I don’t know anyone better at hiding and running then who I sent to get you,” he sounded mirthful. “Trust me, they’ll help you.”

Cecil bit his lip, he didn’t want to trust this man. He wanted to be among his peers, he’d expected to be. Now though… now he was going to be in the clutches of the Assassins. None of that sounded good. In fact it all sounded very bad and dangerous. But… but Erudito had said that they wouldn’t know him, they thought he was one of them.

“They won’t know who I really am?” he asked finally.

“Not unless you tell them,” Erudito replied. “And they won’t ask,” then he sighed, “Irony is that unlike you they aren’t trained to ask questions, just act, and react. Maybe you could teach them a thing or two about finding out what’s true, eh?”

“How will I know it’s them?”

“Trust me, you’ll know. Is that all Cecil?” he asked when they were both silent for a longer stretch of time.

“You said you know everything.”

“I do.”

“I have a key. My Master left it for me. It doesn’t have any teeth though. If you know everything, tell me what it’s for.”

“Oh,” now he seemed interested. “It’s to open a door of course.”

“He said I would know what to do with it. If you know so much tell me what it’s for.”

“Even if I did it would mean nothing to you. You don’t know the Truth, it would seem like fantasy. Just keep it safe and eventually you’ll find the door you need to open.”

“Can’t someone else do it? All I want is to have my life back?” that was really all he wanted.

“No. It has to be you.”

“Damn. I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Sorry.”

“If I need help, can I call you?”

“Yes, though if I pick up or not is something entirely optional,” Erudito said smugly and Cecil scowled slightly. “Good luck, perhaps we’ll talk again soon,” and he hung up.

“Bastard,” Cecil muttered yanking the phone from his ear and turning it off. Why had Master Anders given him this number? He wasn’t helpful, he’d just put him in more danger. He put the phone in his pocket and as he did held the key in his hand and pulled it out. It was a useless key, an older one with no teeth on it. It couldn’t open anything, let alone an actual door. It was pretty at least with small perfect geometric grooves etched into the entire things. Whoever had made it had taken a long time to craft it, though for what purpose he couldn’t fathom.

The Assassins were looking for him though and despite his want of it he couldn’t find it in himself to distrust the man on the phone. He said they would keep him safe where his fellows couldn’t. Maybe he was right. Those of the Guild were not warriors like the Assassins. Their greatest defense was in their stealth and their ability to vanish. The Assassins thought they were masters of hiding, they’d never seen a Master Painter then, for if they did they would realize how wrong their assumptions were. The Assassins hid away in the outer reaches of society, trying not to draw attention to themselves while subtly manipulating the world around them. Painters truly did hide in plain sight. They were not anonymous but that itself gave them their animosity. Be they well known or just another ‘starving artist’ it was sometimes easier to hide when people were looking at you then looking for you. But he’d been compromised. His defenses and that of his teacher’s had been destroyed and now they were looking for him and he could only do so much to change what he looked like.

He sighed and realized he’d found himself at a park, near a playground and sat on one of the benches tiredly. So much had happened so quickly and he still didn’t know what to think of any of it. He just wished everything would slow down so he could process it. Of course though the world waited for no one and nothing happened, meaning he just had to pound out his thoughts to the same beat that everyone else did.

There was just one problem, he didn’t even know where to begin.

He sat on the bench for a while, actually trying not to think too much, and watched the kids on the playground from over the top of his glasses and eventually his fingers found their way into his mouth and began to bite at the already stubby nails. Normally he cut them so he wouldn’t bite, but sometimes, like now, he did not give a shit. Cecil looked up when he heard paper fluttering, it was practically instinct and he saw some kids drawing a few feet away with some crayons.

Without thinking that it may have been weird, he stood up and went over to them, crouching next to them. “Hi,” he said cheerfully and the kids, that looked about five or so looked at him. “Mind if I join you?” he asked them.

“Sure,” one said and gave him a green crayon and a piece of computer paper. Still on his knees Cecil started to draw. It was cathartic to do something so familiar, something so engrained.

“Wow, you’re really good mister,” said one of the little boys, they were all watching his hands now as he drew.

“Thanks,” he gave them a slight grin.

“Hey mister, will you draw me?” asked one of the little girls excitedly. He just smiled at her and found a clean piece of paper before telling her to sit still and quickly found the rounded contours of her face. He sketched quickly since he knew children had a hard time staying still for prolonged periods of time and while what he had drawn was by far not a masterpiece the little girl was madly in love with it. “Thank you,” she said shyly when Cecil handed her the drawing.

He felt someone watching him again, staring at his back and he looked over his shoulder. A man and a woman were standing just outside the playground looking at him and talking though he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He looked away, maybe they were just interested that he was drawing with a bunch of kids. He didn’t care, he was just going to ignore them. The other kids wanted him to draw them stuff too and he was all too happy to have a distraction away from how his life was currently falling apart. He went through over a dozen pieces of paper and three crayons before he heard someone come up behind him.

The kids ignored the new person except for a vague glance, but Cecil looked up and around, ready to bolt if need be, his switch blade and heavy weight in his pocket. The person behind him was the woman he’d seem from a distance, the one who’d been watching him. She was rather lovely with blonde hair, blue eyes and creamy skin, her face only touched slightly with makeup. He categorized her instantly; strong female, well organized, she filed her nails and looked in charge, like she was used to taking care of people. Her face was neither kind nor malevolent, she was simply in control. She reminded Cecil of his mother before she’d died.

“Excuse me, Cecil?” she sounded a bit unsure of herself as if not knowing if he really was Cecil.

“I- yes, that’s me,” and the kids complained when he stood up but he ignored them.

“Hi, we got word you were in trouble,” she said and seemed wary of him.

“You could say that,” he admitted.

“My name is Lucy, if you’d come with me,” and she motioned for him to follow her. After a moment of hesitation where he was conflicted he decided to follow her. He turned briefly and waved goodbye to the children who called after him and for a piece instant made him smile.

“See, I told you,” he looked back again as they approached the man Lucy had been with earlier.

“Yes you did,” she agreed and Cecil took in this new man. Brown hair, brown eyes, slumped but was probably taller if he had proper posture, he stood with his feet apart, knees slightly bent adding to the last of height and Cecil categorized it along with clips he’d watched of karate and ninjutsu and other martial arts masters. A fighter then, not like Lucy. He had his hands in the pockets of his unzipped hooded sweat shirt and had a day or two worth of growth along his jaw. He looked like he hadn’t slept well for a long time for his eyes were bagged and shadowed. “Cecil, this is Desmond.”

“A pleasure,” Desmond said and held out his hand. Oh, friendly and courteous as well it seemed, not like Lucy who was suspicious. Cecil mutely shook it and made eye contact a bit surprised to see a similar look in Desmond’s eyes as his own, one that was categorizing him and ticking off things he knew about him just from his appearance. “Glad I’m not as crazy as everyone likes to remind me I am,” and he gave Lucy a look that was almost annoyance.

Lucy sighed, “Later Desmond,” she said, “We need to go.”

Desmond just nodded and put his hand back into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I’m sorry about what happened to your cell,” he said quietly as they followed Lucy and Cecil was confused by his statement before remembering what Erudito had told him. To them he was a novice Assassin, not an apprentice Painter.

“Me too, he agreed.

“If it means anything know that you’re safe now.”

“Thanks. How did you find me?” this he was curious about.

“A superior told us. Secret stuff you know, don’t ask, just do.”

“Yeah,” he agreed though already he was bursting with questions. “Uhm, can ask who?”

Desmond just shrugged, “Dunno. It just came in an e-mail. Had the clearance, didn’t bother to ask. Not important,” and Cecil wanted to scream at him. Not important? Not important! Everything was important. How could they just blindly go on a mission on the faith of an e-mail? It was absolutely absurd.

“I see,” he said instead. “She the boss?” he looked at Lucy and Desmond grinned and nodded. “What about you?”

“Just a novice,” he sighed and somehow Cecil highly doubted that.
--

Decided to make Lucy live in this AU cause why the fuck not? Aaaaand ya we're at the canon characters! Cecil you notice way too much stuff, stop it.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 118 of 322

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

Re: Marriage..!

Re: Pavlov's Housewife 2/??

Writeanon

auth-anon

auth-anon

The way to fly!authoranon has a question for OP

Re: The way to fly!authoranon has a question for OP

Re: Stranded!

no subject

no subject

Cluster [1a/?]

Re: Cluster [1b/?]

Cluster [1b/?]

^above is Cluster [1c/?]

Re: ^above is Cluster [1c/?]

Re: [Wrong pairing, not a fill] Ezio spanks Salai, Leonardo watching [2/2]

Re: [Wrong pairing, not a fill] Ezio spanks Salai, Leonardo watching [2/2]

no subject

Re: Cornered

no subject

The way to fly [18]

The Guild (3a/?)

Re: The Guild (3b/?)

Re: The Guild (3c/?)

Re: The Guild (3d/?)