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seviiul · 3 months ago

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𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒊 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒔

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 :: ( general scenarios ) "How do the main assassins work around the fact that (S/o) practices the language of flowers?"

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 :: ( assassin's creed ) Altaïr, Ezio, Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor, Edward, Arno, Jacob, Evie, m!Eivor; gender neutral reader

𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 :: none; unless you're afraid of flora(..?)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 :: For one this had MANY rewrites because I wanted to keep it short enough while still covering all the main points(?). Also, there are SO many meanings to flowers out there — but for the sake of fiction we're only going to include the romantic aspects that I got arharharh enjoy

ALTAÏR

There was some initial.. indifference, towards flowers in general as they weren't much of importance in his line of work— that is unless someone manages to conjure a flower species directly related to Pieces of Eden. But regardless, if he was to do something with flowers, it would be rather difficult to grow them up in sweet old Masyaf unless they're specifically adapted to grow in harsh, mountainous climates.

And yet somehow (S/o) still managed to integrate the special tongue into the two’s relationship, having to endure Altaïr’s initial confusion at the bouquets and dried flowers they had along, and then his reasoning on why he doesn't see the need behind using them. BUT he eventually got the gist that this wasn't about practicality. Just affection.

After having skimmed through all kinds of meanings behind flowers the both of them could get hands on, next to his trial and error on understanding the language (and his instances of messaging an insult at you on accident), it had become this almost regular exchange of Damascus Jasmines: a sign of love, with an additional statement of how they feel home with each other.

EZIO

It's no surprise that he would know that there is meaning behind flowers — look how roses came to be the symbols of love and Aphrodite! And for years he has gifted them to women as a show of his interest and a way to woo them into an interaction with him. That also applied to meeting his now beloved. So it wasn't difficult for (S/o) to introduce more flowers; more different ways to arrange them; the vast range of meanings each of the flowers carry and how they can vary from place to place—

Getting back to roses, as classic as they are, he didn't want to exchange any with (S/o) the more committed their relationship became. He has seen the potential other flowers carry and what definition his beloved had given to a bouquet of varying flowers as means of conveying a message. Roses can be defined as love and passion by the flower language, but everybody knows that. In a way, they are too generic for him to show what (S/o) means to him. He's dissatisfied. He wants to do something different, especially per the encouragement of (S/o) to experiment.

So he sticks to sending sunflowers: as easy as they are to cultivate in Italy, they mean happiness, longevity, and loyalty, always arriving into the hands of his love as yellow and orange as the radiance of the burning Sun.

RATONHNHAKÉ:TON

He had once put in the work to get flowers so a friend had some for his courting, but to be frank he hadn't used the flowers in any decorative way after that; mostly making use of them as herbal medicine or spice or flower-based tea. So when (S/o) introduced flower arrangement and meanings behind flowers, he wasn't shy to point out how they also benefit them both in their endeavors.

Although it was pretty evident his beloved struggled with self-satisfaction in terms of how the flowers are: they were pretty used to working with much more colorful and unique flowers, but it felt like Colonial America has it all too bland. It wasn't like they could just get more vibrant flowers from Europe either, especially with how pricey it was to deliver them and how long it took to arrive!

So he resorted to finding what local flora North America has which (S/o) has pointed out: Black-Eyed Susans; Honeysuckles; Vervains, and else. The ones he doesn't recognize make him wonder just what meaning they have, and what are their names (a rare occurrence)

But in terms of what flowers he'd present, he had traveled West to acquire seeds in an attempt to grow Columbines in the Homestead, particularly to gift them in compositions of three: an arrangement having come to mean faith, hope, and love.

EDWARD

Now as much as he has gifted flowers to people dear to him— like his daughter and so— one cannot deny he does NOT give much of a fuck about flowers unless they are mighty expensive to grow, let alone to get hands on. Because, you know.. pai-ruh-see 🏴‍☠️

So it wasn't a surprise when he looked at (S/o) funny when they were picky about their (albeit limited) flower choice when they once traded in Nassau. And as much as he was hearing out their reasoning, he briefly had a headache trying to wrap his head around all this new information on what can this flora stand for and what message can that flower convey. He usually just went for what looks pretty and his person of choice might like and that's it.

Although a question did arise that could aquatic plants have any kind of meanings applied to them — so at times he comes across water streams and picks up a Calla Lily or a Lotus to hand (S/o) when he sees them – and from there he’d get a yet another headache that colors of the petals are a factor in definition as well.

He’d take note how land flowers are incredibly vibrant as well, at least in the islands of the Caribbean he traverses in; ranging from the pink Hibiscuses to Barbados Lilies. His first choice, though, out of all of them is to gift his beloved yellow bells – a shrub flower, yes, but their trumpet-like blossoms symbolize joy, new beginnings, and promises of happiness: something that he strives to achieve for the both of them.

ARNO

He is pretty aware that flowers have an importance in courting people; also that roses are very often used in that process: I mean, what kind of a City of Romance would Paris be if roses weren’t a commonplace?

Although when it came to his (S/o), flowers weren’t at first only a subject of courting: with their vast knowledge on flowers in the first place, Arno also made some use of it within his salon. Certain flowers had come to resemble the fleeting seasons, and also an incoming holiday if there was one: French Daisies had decorated the tables of Café Théâtre at the start of spring to resemble this new season; Daffodils are always set out around St. Patrick’s Day to symbolize good luck; and Panicle Hydrangeas are placed in celebration of autumn. And hey they also had come to be useful in the kitchen, as the herbs (S/o) provided added to the dishes and also included new items into the menu, now having flower-based teas and all, like lavender and chamomile.

What he does with their flower language can entirely vary from the events that he went through. If we only look at before tragedy, he could put much work into what flower bouquets he’d gift to (S/o), and he’d have no problem with making them either as subtle or grand as he wanted them to be. Next to the obvious choice of roses, there were times he’d gift his lover daisies, the particularly blue ones resembling long-term commitment and trust. He can’t ask much from them or crack a joke wondering when will he get a flower or a few: he can simply embrace them, and he’d receive the comforting smell of so many flowers that he might get dizzy.

JACOB

He's heard of the flower language, but he doesn't use it: at least not the way one would expect in the Victorian Era, a time when flower language was in fact standardized as public affection was frowned upon.

As much as (S/o) does put care into their flowers of choice, they mostly do it as a purpose of gifting. Jacob, however, has started to use it as means of conveying a message or information, a certain arrangement of varying flowers being capable of carrying on much about anything if done right: it can look silly, yes, but because of how common the language of flora is at the time, he's aware he can use it to his advantage.

.. He and his beloved may and may not also use it to entertain themselves: just to rouse a reaction out of unknowing spectators, they give, they toss, they full on throw bouquets at each other with a vast range of meanings behind each; one time making a show of absolute devotion to one another, and the other conveying disgust, initiating an emotional rollercoaster out of bystanders: all while the culprits disappear behind a corner while cackling together.

But sometimes, aside the Assassin duties and their shared antics, Jacob just prefers to hear what (S/o) has to say about a flower or so, occasionally coming from a patrol to sit down with a couple flowers and hear what they mean, much to the delight of his beloved. Or he comes to embrace them from behind, holding a precious flora as a means of apology for leading a Blighter to their doorstep when he was chased by one.

He also likes to put in the work sometimes to cut from the stem a little and make sure the flower bud sits behind (S/o)’s ear, being able watch them laugh and try to improve its placement. His favourite choice is flowers from heliotropes; standing for heartfelt adoration he has for them.

EVIE

Oh she knows really well about the language; she likely has had occasional exchanges or one sided confessions with these bouquets after all. It's just that she hasn't been able to incorporate it much to her life the busier she came with the London Assassin Brotherhood.

It's probable that she'd take on delivering information via flora as well: as commonplace the flower tongue is, it would be hard to suspect anything about them. Although there's doubt that she'd do those arrangements just for the purpose of aesthetics. It's appealing to see (S/o) do so, however, having gained a first impression on that outside London with an arrangement of Cornflowers, Chamomiles, and some Wheat: no, it did not have any meaning behind this bunch of petals.

There was this brief idea that a flower shop would make it easier for her beloved to do what they love; becoming a full time florist and regularly being able to put in their work. But by the words of (S/o), she had to realize them practicing the language of flowers in pursuit of profit would only drain them, losing the passion for in the process.

So by agreement they only stick to sending information to cooperators, and also sharing a private kiss while giving each other a pair of white and red chrysanthemums, white meaning loyalty and red meaning joy and love.

EIVOR

HERBS. That's his knowledge on flowers summarized. He has made tea out of them to warm his body in colder days; he has collected them by the request of the Seer and villagers in need; he has used them as means of medicine as well.

Eivor would have (S/o) tell him the advantages of, or at least identify, unrecognizable flora in their travels to England — obviously to end up not ingesting something poisonous, not wanting to do what could've been so easily prevented.

He did become intrigued over his lover’s particular interest in flowers, especially the supposed meaning behind them. It wouldn't be surprising to see him return to Ravensthorpe with some herbs, having picked out a certain flower he saw on the way and hear out what it stands for. And of course from there he received the shock of how varying their meanings can be, having recalled the same flower having a completely different symbolism back in Norway.

He more regularly, if given the opportunity, comes back with a small bundle of snowdrops, symbolizing hope, new beginnings, and the overcoming challenges, the beginnings parts being especially suitable for the springtime they bloom in.

#💤 :: 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆 #💭 :: 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔~𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed #ac #asscreed #altair x reader #ezio auditore x reader #connor kenway x reader #edward kenway x reader #jacob frye x reader #arno dorian x reader #evie frye x reader #eivor varinsson x reader

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 months ago

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𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒:

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ queue name: resting in the café theatre

✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐈 ✧ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐕: 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: 𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐲 ✧ 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚

⊹₊ liked it? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

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teecupangel · 2 years ago

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What if Revelations Ezio dated a woman while he was in Istanbul who was a belly dancer had 2 teenage boys who didn't like him because their real dad would abuse their mom which is why they're very protective of her. How would he win them over?

According to wiki, the most accurate thing we can do is make the woman be a Romani who learned this from Egyptians musicians and dancers who were in Constantinople at the time.

If she and her sons are Romani then Ezio’s in for a bit of trouble as his sons wouldn’t trust Ezio as far as they could throw him, not just because of what their biological father had done but because of the socio-political standing of the Romanis in Constantinople during that time.

The best Ezio could do would be to show his sincerity with his actions and help the Romanis out any way he can (which he did do in canon if we consider the 100% sync to be canon).

But it’s gonna be a long road for Ezio to do such a thing so yeah…

He’s gonna be doing this for a while.

#ask and answer #does this count as #ezio x reader #or #ezio x oc #idk #tagging both i guess #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore x oc

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demigoddessqueens · 9 months ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you could do a fic about how different Assassin’s cuddle? Your main bunch is fine

btw I love your writing, I’ve been re-reading your stuff and it has me kicking my legs and giggling like a school girl

have a great day!

Oh of course! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing 😄 and I love that comparison, making me giggle like a schoolgirl too 🥹💞

a/n - I’ll add as many of the leads as I can so everyone gets some love

Masterlist 11

Altair

The type who says he doesn’t like cuddles but absolutely does! Likes being the big spoon to where he feels protectively wrapped around you

Ezio

Kicking, clicking his heels and twirling his hair! Yes please, absolutely, bene bene! Any excuse to kiss you more

Desmond

Lover boy who likes laying on top of you cause if you’re cuddling, you’re not going anywhere!

Connor

Likes to cuddle with you on top his chest and those large arms wrapped around you

Arno

Did he hear you right? You wanna cuddle 🥹 with him? Yes please cherie!! Any type of cuddle where he can admire and kiss you

Jacob

A whole teddy bear cuddler, with a scruff that tickles you, who also lets his lips and hands and mind wander 😉

Evie

First it starts off as reading together as some down time but then evolves into cuddles when the book is less interesting than you 💕

Haytham

Thinks he’s too dignified and above cuddles but the second you thread your fingers through his hair, it’s immediate defeat and he wants to just hold you

Basim

You are LOCKED IN!! Even if you try to move, Basim will whine if you try to pry out of his arms

Shay

Cuddles are an excuse of his to be as flirtatious as possible, even letting those hands wander 😏

Kassandra

Sometimes you need cuddles, sometimes she does too; cuddling face to face is a more intimate preference

Eivor

Warm and toasty cuddles 🥰 completely submerged under all the furs and blankets

Aveline

She’s a sweet cuddler that likes to leave little kisses here and there when you start to doze off

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navstuffs · 2 years ago

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how trilogy!ezio has sex with gn!reader in different phases - (PURE SMUT, MINORS DNI)

assassins creed 2!ezio fucks you hard and fast in dark alleys. he always rushes, pounding into you like he could die tomorrow (he could really), shows up whenever he wants but never leaves you unsatisfied, sometimes making sure you have an orgasm before him. he warns he can't fall in love but always finds his way back for you. assassins creed brotherhood! ezio spends the night. he is a passionate lover and takes his time to ensure you feel cherished and pleased. expect one or two multiple orgasms, he just loves to watch your body tremble over his control, the only sound coming out of your mouth being his name. ezio doesn't leave until he has you completely breathless in his arms, his expression full of worship for your naked form. and he is possessive: he takes his time to mark you as his, making sure you know exactly to whom you belong. lastly, assassins creed revelations!ezio wants intimacy and cuddles. it doesn't mean he won't make love to you as he did when he was younger or even spank your ass as he takes you from behind. no, this ezio wants you to know that he loves you. with every kiss, touch, rub, every small little gesture, he wants you to know and feel how much he adores you. ezio watches you sleep, imagining himself having a normal life as a married man, growing old with you. he has finally found his peace with you.

my ezio masterlist

#ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore x you #ezio x reader #ezio x you #ezio auditore imagine #ezio auditore fanfics #ezio auditore da firenze x reader #ezio auditore da firenze x you #assassins creed x reader #ezio auditore fanfic #IM SO HAPPY WITH THIS #ik i havent paid my man any attention lately #but i will start editing my wips and write my last request #i do have two LONG fics plan for him

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fandom-smutty-shots · 2 months ago

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The assassins kissing their s/o for the first time

Request

Masterlist

| ~ * ~ * ~ |

Characters: Altaïr, Ezio, Edward, Arno, Jacob, Evie, and Basim

Warnings: Maybe a little suggestive content?

| ~ * ~ * ~ |

Altaïr Ibn-LaʼAhad

Altair would be so shy.

I mean, he knows what he's doing, of course, he's been married before, but that was why he was so afraid to show you he cared.

He would put his finger under your chin and lean in carefully, giving you a gentle but dazing kiss before letting you go with a goodnight.

You both couldn't wait to do that again.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

He'd be teasing you first. He'd have his arm against the wall with you backed up, leaning down on you with that smug smile.

He'd whisper Italian in your ear, his hot breath sending tingles down your spine before he moved, painfully slowly, to your lips, hovering over you as you looked into his eyes with desperation.

Finally, he'd tug you in, one hand in your hair and the other on your waist as he crashed into you, moving so fast your head spun.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away, your gasps filling the otherwise silent air.

"You think I'm good at kissing, mi amore? I have so many other things to teach you."

Edward Kenway

Man, Edward would sweep you off your feet with your first date and kiss.

You would be so in love so fast you won't know what hit you. He would kiss you so passionately, pushing you up against something and cupping both sides of your face while your hands roamed his back.

It would last minutes before he finally broke it off, stepping away with his final words.

"You look beautiful tonight, (Y/n). Just in case you I didn't make that clear."

He had made it pretty clear.

Arno Dorian

He'd take you out for a nice dinner before walking you home, holding your arm as he escorted you

He'd give you a gentle goodnight kiss, just a simple peck to remember him.

And a promise to be back to take you out again.

Jacob Frye

Your date had been... interesting at best. The food was bland, the drinks were watery, and the conversation was forced.

You didn't know what had gone wrong. You had great chemistry when you first met, but the dinner had just been... awkward.

Just as you were ready for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow you, Jacob stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours, moving slowly and confidently as your eyes fluttered closed and you eased into his arms. It lasted minutes, just the two of you in your own world away from everyone else.

It was perfect.

Evie Frye

She'd take you out for a day around town, chatting you up and showing you a good time.

Finally, she'd sit you down, lean in slowly, and hold the back of your head before devouring you. She'd kiss you hard and deep, filling you with every bit of want she had for you.

Basim Ibn Ishaq

Basim had been injured, and you had been watching over him for the days he had been healing.

He was finally moving around, although slowly, and you were pretty sure he was still in pain.

But that didn't stop him from placing the ghost of a kiss on your lips as you helped to tuck him in one night, his lips barely tracing over yours as he thanked you, in his own, sweet way.

You hoped he'd thank you again.

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elfven-blog · 10 months ago

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Milking Session

Summary: You work at 'The Aquila Bovine Sanctuary' and it's milking day for the Italian Bull Ezio. BullHybrid!Ezio Auditore x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, blowjob, handjob, he is a hybrid (cannot stress this enough). Word Count: 1.8K

Working at ‘The Aquila Bovine Sanctuary’ had been a weird experience to say the least, when you had applied to be a farmhand you had expected your duties to be cleaning the stalls, feeding the hybrids and maybe helping with the calves. Originally they had put you with the heifers’ and cows’ which had led to you blushing and shifting awkwardly the first time you had helped with a ‘milking’ session. The more experienced cows had started doting on you, stroking your hair and crowing about how sweet you were and gentle too. Over the past year or so you had become more calm about your job and had no worries anymore, especially when you made friends with some of the cows and heifers.

Unfortunately you had to be moved to the Bull area, which was far less peaceful. Some of the bulls did not care for fighting or dominance or any of that, but then some of them seemed to do nothing but fight or ramp each other up. It was a very different experience compared to what you had become used to. That’s not to say the women didn’t fight, they did. Often. But then they seemed to go back to being kind with each other very swiftly, a bull fight seemed to be able to last for days.

To make it all worse, today was a milking day. Milking day with the bulls was ever so slightly different, after all they didn’t produce milk…what they did produce however was seed.

The thought had you almost scowling, you didn’t hate it. It was a job and that’s all you thought about it as, you were sure in the same way many escorts and dominatrix’s thought of their own jobs.

It’s just that, quite often, it was messy. One time a Bull’s cum had gotten inside your glove, one of your colleagues had underestimated the amount and had dumped what would have been half a bucket more on the floor.

Today would most likely be just the same, at least the stories you swapped with your fellow handlers were funny. No one else seemed to understand your work and your nose scrunched as you remembered when you started working here, you had told one of your friends about a shift and that friend had a rather harsh reaction.

The wind grazed across the back of your neck and your body tensed for a moment before you shook your head and continued walking towards the bull field. Your hands immediately rested on the wood to help as you pushed yourself up to try and find the bull you were after.

A loud moo rang through and then the slam of horns against horns attracted your attention, and there he was. Ezio. He wasn’t the largest bull in the field but he was one of them, originally he had been kept in Italy but a few months ago they’d shipped him over to Aquila Bovine’s when he’d gotten into a rather messy situation and lost half a horn.

He seemed to have settled in quite nicely, none of the bulls were particularly aggravated with each other and most fights were really just them playing.

You yelled to the Italian bull, watching as his head shot up from the bull he was fighting and his mouth stretched into a grin before he was practically bolting over to you. His hands either side of yours as he panted down at you, his long tail flicking behind him and sweat dripped down his tanned skin.

“Tesoro!” he chimed at you, bending down to huff at your hair, seemingly taking rather long deep breaths “Where have you been?” Your body freezes at the feeling of pressure from his nose practically huffing you like glue, your hand moving to pat his arm until he decides he’s had enough and pulls away.

“I have other duties to attend to Ezio” you answer with a shrug but it doesn’t seem enough for the bull as he shakes his head and stamps his hoof “But don’t worry, I’m all yours for the moment.”

The gate is, surprisingly, easy to unlock so you make a mental note to get it checked by maintenance. You wouldn’t want the bulls escaping.

The gate itself is nearly pulled off its hinges as Ezio all but rags it open so that he can be on the same side as you, he closes it and gives you an awkward smile as he does so. The look on your face makes him bend his head and nudge you with it, he is careful of his horns but rather insistent on getting your touch so he knows you are not mad at him.

When your hand finally reaches up to stroke his hair and then at the base of his horns where you know he struggles to itch himself, his weight starts to lean on you as his eyes close and that rumbling purr sounds from him. It’s more like a groan to you, but the other handlers say it’s a purr so you go with it.

“Ezio! Ezio!” You panic slightly until his eyes open and he stands up again with that charming half-smile he has, one of his hands awkwardly resting on his neck as he pulls away and you simply shake your head as you make sure the gate is completely locked before gesturing for the Bull to follow you.

Technically you’re meant to put him in a harness or halter but Ezio’s always good. Following after you like a lost puppy rather than a bull, it’s only when you go past the cows and heifers that he seems to struggle. His head turning to their field and his nostrils flaring as he halts in his tracks, eyes searching for someone but you’re quick to tug his tail and he happily follows after you again. The distraction forgotten as you make your way to the milking room.

You can see his nose scrunch as you enter the room that had been booked out for his milking session, the Italian unhappy with the scents surrounding him. “Sorry, bud” You said as your hand patted him on the arm before slipping down and curling your hand in his to pull him over towards the milk stand.

It wasn’t a machine, just a bench where he would kneel and his hands would be slotted in and secured so that he couldn’t grab hold of you. The metal creaked under his weight as he leant on the plush pillow provided for his knees while you secured the straps around his wrists.

Once he was secured you grabbed the bucket and placed it just below him. When you looked up to speak to him, you found the bull already looking down at you. His pupils blown wide and his chest heaving with each breath he took as his eyes trained on you.

“You look so pretty like this” Ezio murmured to you in that rumble, his voice deeper from the arousal coursing through his veins which was made even more evident when your gloved hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the Italian pulling at his straps already with a hiss “So so pretty” he mumbled.

Your hand moves up the length of his prick, making him whine and buck his hips at the feeling. His head thrown back as he lets himself fall into that pleasure you’re offering him, ezio’s thighs tense as you tease the head of his cock with your thumb and it draws a low moan from the bull, the precum starts to drool from the slit which you use as lube to make it easier to pump your hand up and down him. You can hear his tail swaying behind him in excitement and it makes you smile more than it should.

His hips buck again as your hand slides down and squeezes the base of him, your eyes fall to the heavy set of balls to watch as they draw up to his body before relaxing again. Even though he’s now oozing precum, he’s not close enough to release yet which makes the corners of your mouth turn down as your pace increases. The bull’s eyes roll as his breathing quickens, his cock twitching in your palm but it’s still not enough even as his hips chase your hand every time.

Your eyes jump to the clock and you realise you’ve been in here for a good few minutes already with nothing to show for it. Which is why you lean forward and press a kiss to the head of his cock, Ezio’s mouth falls open with a loud groan and he mutters praises above you as your tongue flattens against his tip, swirling once, twice before you sink down on to him.

This is against the rules, something you’re definitely not meant to do but the poor bull was having trouble. Your hand moves to cup his balls, gently rolling them in your hand while the other one continues to pump around him. Your eyes close as you focus on tasting him, but it’s difficult to focus on making sure you do your job when his hips buck and force you to take more of him into your mouth.

You try not to gag from the sudden stretch of your jaw, his cock making you ache as he loses himself in the feeling of your warm throat around him. He tugs at the bindings on his wrists, groaning as his eyes roll and flutter, his mouth slack at the feeling of a wet mouth pleasing him. Your tongue tracing at the prominent veins on the underside of his cock as he fucks into your mouth until you are gagging around him.

There’s not much you can do as your hand slips from the base of his cock, his pace speeding up as he keeps humping into you and you can feel his balls drawing up again as he mumbles and moans above you “So so good”, “What a pretty girl” and “Feels so good dolcezza” all fall as praise from his mouth. His tail swaying more and more as the bench creaks from his movements, the bull chasing his high with the feeling of your mouth consuming him.

Your eyes widen as you feel him tense, his thighs shaking and his cock twitching in your mouth as he pulls at the bindings again and you’re barely able to pull off to grab the bucket before there’s white ropes of cum spurting from his cock, oozing down into the bucket as he moans. His head lolling back as he goes almost limp from his orgasm, cock twitching with the last few bits drooling from him as his eyes flutter. And you can’t stop your mind from wandering at the sight of him like this, you’ve never been so affected by your job before but there’s something about seeing the Italian so blissed out on the bench, or maybe it’s the spit covered cock that’s still hard between his thighs.

But either way, you’re really starting to enjoy working with the bulls at the sanctuary.

#assassins creed #assassins creed 2 #assassins creed revelations #ezio auditore x f!reader #ezio auditore smut #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore #assassin’s creed ezio #assassin's creed 2 #assassin's creed x reader #ezio auditore x fem!reader #assassin's creed smut #assassin's creed brotherhood #assassin's creed hybrid au

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yourinnerdemon · 9 months ago

Note

Just because you don't like seeing the smut doesn't mean everyone else has to hide it 😭

I’m not asking them to hide it??? I’m asking them to put a few tags as warning’s????

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yasashii-leaf · 1 year ago

Note

Happy holidays!! 🎁

*gives your AC bois mistletoe kisses*

Aw merci a toi aussi bonne vacances !

#my art #y/n #reader #shay cormac #assassin's creed #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ezio auditore x reader #altair x reader #shay cormac x reader #Altaïr ibn la'ahad x reader

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paws-of-the-quill · 1 year ago

Text

felt this made this

#assassin's creed #jacob frye #assassin's creed syndicate #malik al sayf #assassins creed headcanons #ezio auditore da firenze #ac2 #blueflames #desmond miles #delsin rowe #delsin rowe x reader #jacob frye x reader #Mailk x reader #ezio auditore x reader #desmond miles x reader

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ridingtorohan · 1 year ago

Text

𓇻 ft. ezio auditore x civilian gn reader

𓇻 summary. There's just you, Ezio, and a slow, sleepy morning on a rooftop.

𓇻 content. platonic or pre-relationship. pre-Brotherhood.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎read on ao3! - masterlist - join the taglist!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───

Soft strands of sunlight crests over the city walls, dusting over the roof slates in a golden sheen. It’s beautiful and tranquil, the starlight fading overhead into hues of gentle light. Early dawn has you feeling cold, a little uncomfortable under the brisk air. Monteriggioni feels quiet beneath the sway of your feet, the small city silent with sleep. Ezio barely breathes - and when he does, it’s relaxed, the motion slow. He’s, somehow, not quite what you imagined and yet everything all at once. Quiet. For all the charismatic clamor you see him with, he watches over the city with a sense of calm that Claudia has never spoken of.

Aristocratic nose, fine cheekbones and firm jawline, Ezio was without a doubt a cut of the finest cloth. Boisterous. Loud. Everything you’ve heard spoken about him - and even seen him act. This is a tender side you didn’t know existed, hidden beneath swaths of fine armour and silky fabric. Looking at him as you do now, his presence almost muted beside you on the rooftop, he seems more man than myth. Gentler, almost, even with the garment of metal strapped to his wrists.

Despite all the armour he typically wears, the imposing and broad figure he cuts, he’s everything but. You’ve seen him out and about, moving along the rooftops and city walls, scrounging for feathers - you still didn’t quite understand that— and tending to mundane jobs. He’s even swept out an arm to guide children back to their feet after a tumble to the street. Which happens a fair bit, even to a young child from your extended family.

Thing is, while it happens a fair amount - Ezio is there to stop it. Always visiting, moving between houses and tending to the people with a spirit and jubilance that you haven’t even seen the Lord cherish the town with. He loves it like his own, a home far from his birthright.

You don’t know much about Ezio’s past, only gleaned some of it from gossip and from Claudia. Even that isn’t enough. Enough would be to hear it from his own lips, to have the man himself explain. But, the strange thing is, despite all the good tidings he gives to the town, when he’s alone with you like this, he grows somber. A million miles away, lost in a world you can’t comprehend.

Other days it’s good. He tends to you like every other townsperson in Monteriggioni, making sure you have everything you need. You’re not even sure how spending time with Ezio like this even happened - what you did to make him choose you. There are many ladies who express an interest in him, many soldiers who want privy into his skills. But he chooses you, takes you for strolls and stops first thing at your market stall when new produce is brought in.

Today is not one of those days.

“I am sorry,” he says then, voice hard in the growing daylight. Not because he’s harsh - never is— but because that’s just how his words sound. “My mind is … quite occupied today.”

“It’s okay,” you breathe out, because it is. It’s okay. You don’t question where his mind goes.

There’s a long moment of silence before Ezio quietly elaborates, “It is close to my Christening day.”

“Oh-” You pause and consider his tone. “I’m sorry.”

His expression twitches then, mirth dancing in his eyes, dark eyebrows knitting together. A small smile plays across his handsome face, fingers spreading across his thigh. “Thank you.” He laughs, an unused sound that rests deep in his throat. “Ah, I’m sure you’ve already heard of Claudia arranging a party, no?” Your pinched expression gives you away and his laugh deepens, eyes turning away.

“She wanted it to be a secret-” You stop yourself there by instinct. But Ezio doesn’t interrupt, he never has. He’s attentive that way, always listening to what you have to say, even if it’s about the soil or the worms in your garden. “You weren’t supposed to know about it.” “She always tries to make it a surprise,” Ezio responds, eyes tender as he looks at you.

“And yet you know of it anyway.” There’s a twitch of his scarred mouth when you speak.

“Mm.” He gives a slow nod of his head, leaning back, brown hair moving from his shoulder to spill over his back instead. Ezio closes his eyes, the hazy sunlight moving across his face as it climbs into the sky. “Has anyone invited you?”

“The whole town is going.”

“Yes, I imagine.” Ezio laughs slightly then. “I’m inviting you as my guest.” It feels like it should be a profound statement - something awe inspiring or an utterance to make you gasp. It doesn’t. Instead, all you feel is a low seeping warmth that touches the tip of your toes. You look down, swaying you feet over the edge of the roof. Ezio isn’t saying it to be polite - there’s something about the way he speaks and acts with you that makes you feel like he’s genuine.

“Thank you,” you say after a moment. “That’d be great.”

Ezio says nothing to that, though you can feel his eyes turn from you back towards the city at your feet. An emotional eclipse washes over you and you’re left feeling cold. Every moment with Ezio is like this - inviting, like summer days and fireflies. Like he sees who you are and accepts it.

There’s nothing for a long moment, just you and Ezio and the slow march of time. Dew glistens on the lower tiles, the rough texture cold beneath your palms. “Thank you for going,” he says - and the way he says it makes it feel more profound than it originally sounds. Like it matters to him, like your presence is something he basks in.

You look at him, at his battle worn features, weary lines smoothing into something almost peaceful. He needs moments like this, you realize. Needs it like you do - the companionship, the ease from everyday life. The slow, quiet mornings, the yawning pull of life. An insurmountable, insignificant second of life - every second that amounts to something more. Because he exists, you exist, and this moment exists.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you promise, meaning every word of it. You enjoy these mornings with him just as much as he does.

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thesharktanksdriver · 2 years ago

Text

Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)

Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?

Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol

Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol

You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul

Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons

Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him

A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after

It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind

The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by

But as a child you eventually put the thought away

Eventually you forget

Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time

Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time

It just seemed to grow the older you got

Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you

It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it

That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting

And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries

Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment

Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age

You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian

Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge

And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur

Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress

In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts

A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night

The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve

The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop

I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures

What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group

One well know to historians such as yourself

Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment

It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts

Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye

Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter

Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times

They for some reason seem to call to you specifically

Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve

But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment

So you lie and wait

Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job

In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian

Hell you were in first year for gods sake

But somehow despite it all

Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier

A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into

Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research

You got to touch these artifacts

Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges

You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs

Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal

Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work

And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them

It’s great

You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more

Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost

Find new angles and perspectives on events

For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources

And even then sources can be biased

Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event

Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations

Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic

How could you not be?

Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry

Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian

It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking

Either way it’s an honour

One you don’t take lightly as you study it

Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code

An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit

Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension

You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field

Especially since no one knows the name of the company

It’s just under an anonymous donation every month

It’s sketchy

But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge

Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded

Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious

Not when this place was almost shut down

With a sigh you continue on your work

Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm

Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors

Well, along with being giant nerds

And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace

A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident

With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants

Then going up to get a bandaid

You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed

Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow

When you get home your more exhausted than usual

Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue

Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut

You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch

Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace

So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch

Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into

A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house

But your mind writes it off

Your too tired to question anything let alone get up

All you want is sleep

And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut

You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind

Blurred images of odd men

A weird void-like realm

The cries of an eagle overhead

A single word appearing in your head

Kenway

And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears

Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion

Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear

Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert

Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion

Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized

And there you find several men in old garb

Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate

Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence

they turn to you with sharp eyes

It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most

The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you

Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features

Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room

The bridge of your nose

A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes

The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face

Your posture as you decided what to do

It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence

Especially not when all of them are Kenway

Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death

“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”

You all but confirm his suspicions

Their suspicions

And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated

Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one

Neither were the other ones you looked at

The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves

It’s a lot to take in

Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real

Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home

…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift

You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated

Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct

Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic

You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart

And in those cases things ended up fine

But now your faced with this

A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in

Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment

For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid

I mean, how couldn’t you be?

But you get the sense that they understand

At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say

Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well

So for now they’ll stay

Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them

Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad

The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study

It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company

Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies

Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about

He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on

So you indulge him

And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering

Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart

Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era

You answer as best you can

Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte

But he appreciates it anyways

Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place

Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history

She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about

But he does

He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion

It’s nice

What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well

So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together

A constant back and forth

Hypotheses, discussion, and testing

Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted

But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together

After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape

It drove who was left away

Made the pit in his heart deeper

He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path

And he warns you of it

Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges

He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession

Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role

He helps out and offers advice and guidance

Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts

Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair

He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them

Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile

Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in

Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side

He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences

He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far

“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.

“Would I ever!”

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business

Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)

Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue

Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you

Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around

Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most

Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends

It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed

Despite that though he keeps a brave face

Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”

You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind

Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break

And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again

He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on

You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta

He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady

Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort

Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin

You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language

Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it

He’s happily rambling and teaching you words

Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor

Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice

But despite the facade you see the cracks

Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar

Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book

How Petruccio would have loved this toy

It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth

Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family

Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope

One that would never come to fruition (until now)

It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy

Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing

In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things

Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality

He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress

Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?

Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend

When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing

You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence

But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says

Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit

It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something

A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer

Meet Altair besides through a weird vision

His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls

“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.

“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”

“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”

“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”

“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”

Edward Kenway

For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be

Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something

Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home

Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation

His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily

Or more easily than he does with Haythem

It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night

A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window

You don’t talk

You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt

In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die

Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause

He changed and did good yet his past haunts him

Hands stained red

Guilt eating away

A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him

At some point when he stops his rambles you speak

Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed

It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands

Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place

It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help

In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away

You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw

You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better

You see a human being at its core

With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being

One who was just as flawed as you and I

But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that

He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance

Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to

He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair

Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales

You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman

Mind blown

Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay

Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.

“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?

“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “

“Care to tell?”

“Aye, sure thing”

Haytham Kenway

As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch

A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him

From his father its confusion and sadness

The others it’s a mix of that and anger

From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it

The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through

But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier

A neutral zone so to say

Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict

To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war

Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics

Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down

So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham

He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation

Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs

He is a conflicted man

A flawed one

But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor

He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt

Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh

Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude

That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly

That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became

What ideals and morals he still believes in even now

It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own

Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person

It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations

How you still don’t know how to feel about this all

The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head

Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad

It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking

To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction

To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order

On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea

He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices

He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it

It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave

Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern

There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests

Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look

Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages

It’s…odd

With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow

Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings

He feels melancholy

Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe

One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly

“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst

“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”

“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”

“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason

Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate

Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons

His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company

A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another

The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone

He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most

And it’s the same likewise for him

Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally

People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world

People who were let down one way or another by their father

People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination

It’s odd but you feel truly understood

Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world

One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation

The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home

Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them

And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path

He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who

It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage

In return you talk about what you know as well

Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories

An equal exchange of sorts

On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed

The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety

The times in which you need to breath

Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action

Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye

It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most

Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself

To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots

Letting the cold breeze take away your worries

It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support

Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching

Of watching and knowing when you need a break

When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know

Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own

It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect

Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing

He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation

But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out

He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them

Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes

The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular

But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes

He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples

It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him

“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.

He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”

Desmond Miles

Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you

Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive

And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive

Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine

You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague

Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat

But then things got complicated

Things change

You began talking to the others

Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table

But you still try to avoid him

It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you

The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you

Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake

It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)

The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that

How would you even start?

What do you even say to him?

You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do

Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him

Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)

Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done

The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension

The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this

But what can you even do?

How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?

Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world

He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.

But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012

It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not

He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins

Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death

And your you

A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people

It hurts but it’s true

If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light

A mere blip or spark to the greater picture

There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything

Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you

How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own

Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk

But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return

But eventually he corners you

Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair

“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)

You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.

Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off

I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here

If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes

Small glances full of opportunities in them

It’s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive

Or even private benefactors of sorts

But then they turn their attention to you

Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit

Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts

They stand not too close nearby

Watching

Waiting

And then she begins talking

And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable

Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin

They apparently are interested in your findings

In your research

But more specifically you

They’ve researched you…a lot

Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather

And your father

…but that’s not public knowledge

It wasn’t even on your birth certificate

This….this isn’t

She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing

Dangerous and sadistic of sorts

And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo

Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones

You didn’t mind

The less you know the better in that sense

Out of sight and out of mind

But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now

One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar

Abstergo

You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out

Mind drifting to that of panic

What would happen to you?

What will happen when the others find out?

But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep

When you wake up things are odd

Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes

The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift

Everything feels odd

And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void

And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts

Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something

A memory? Specifically one of your memories

Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self

A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile

You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten

Your left wordless and confused

And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains

This entire thing is a simulation of your memories

And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.

Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts

And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart

Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out

Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in

It hurts so damn much

Over and over

Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments

Left begging for it to stop

For someone to help

For the love of god someone help you make it stop

Of course this would happen to you

You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”

What utter bullshit

You can’t make good luck from bad

Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way

But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone

And your left in the void still reeling from it all

Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view

Blinding and bright as your still recovering

And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in

“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”

You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head

“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”

“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.

“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”

You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.

For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too

There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots

Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm

Composed despite the chaos of it all

So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him

There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head

But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short

Footsteps far behind eventually stopping

Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath

It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name

Shay

It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it

Either way your grateful because how can you not be?

Your away from that place

Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment

Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded

But now your somewhat okay

Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something

Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced

but Shay doesn’t seem to mind

He offers an arm that you cling to for support

A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further

And then you notice his clothes are….old

Like Haytham and Connor level old

And…shit

It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes

The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something

Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green

And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment

Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head

He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you

Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady

And the other person now attacking Shay

“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”

“He’s a Templar!”

“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”

At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat

Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip

Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail

Both waiting on your word

“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“

“You’ve been gone for 4 days”

You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.

The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father

It’s….odd but nice

Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes

He looks like hell

But none of the others are any better either

They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe

Your home

It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school

The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face

It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor

Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins

A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing

It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family

Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here

Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay

Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that

But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger

Your not safe

None of you are safe

Perhaps you never truly were

And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next

Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force

You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans

as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you

Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision

So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option

It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)

Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad

So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy

It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again

Only time can tell what will bring upon you next

But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side

The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone

But maybe you understand it a bit better now

#platonic #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed imagine #desmond miles x reader #ezio auditore x reader #ezio x reader #altair x reader #connor kenway x reader #haytham kenway x reader #shay cormac x reader #edward kenway x reader

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