#creed fanfic

[kantush]

Does anyone here remember Protocreed......

It's a dead crack ship that fucks me over to this day.

(so srry for invoking this but I'm going down memory lane and remembered this ship existed and y'all the way it had a hold on me in the golden age of Tumblr. Can't believe this was my first crack ship. And now that I know how to art, I realized what's stopping me from drawing a nostalgic ship. )

#YALL #I played all the games and read every fanfic for their ship years ago and to this day I can't nothing about what happened in them☠️ #how fucking sad #I fixated on this shit in the early 2010s on here and deviantart #I remember the tags with this ship being filled with so much “filthy” art #protocreed #alex mercer #desmond miles #assassin's creed #prototype #my art #art

[starcrossedxwriter]

Princess’s Punishment (MBJ x Reader)

A/N: I didn’t have the energy to go back and find the two asks lol but this is a request from two folks for a kinky punishment story with. So enjoyyyy!

Warnings: degradation, name calling, NSFW, lots of kinks (spanking, cockwarming, etc)

***

“What do you think?” You gave her fiancee a model-like twirl so he could examine your outfit from all angles. 

Michael glanced up from his phone and the email he was typing, letting out a low whistle as his eyes swept over your perfect frame. 

“That dress gon’ get you into trouble, Princess.” 

You threw him a coy smile before turning back to the giant mirror in the middle of the store. You were the only customer there, Michael preferring to reserve stores for an hour or two so you could have a private and serene shopping experience. It ensured everyone in the store was solely dedicated to getting you exactly what you needed and wanted. Most stores happily obliged, knowing that anytime Michael brought his princess in, the limit on his card was nonexistent. Today was no different. 

“That looks great on you,” a man offered as he emerged from the back of the store. His dreads were neatly pulled back out of his face. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, the exact type of man who would have once turned your head before you met Michael, the love of your life. But no one compared to the literal sexiest man alive in your eyes and that was a fact. 

You had never seen him in the store before but when the woman you typically worked with didn’t return, you realized he would be assisting you. 

“Hope you don’t mind. Jenn had a family emergency. I’m Marcus,” he reached out to shake your hm which you accepted with a bright smile. 

“Nice to meet you. Y/N,” you introduced yourself before turning back to the mirror, your hands running over the luxuriously soft material that hugged your curves. “Not sure this is the most flattering though.” 

“I have another dress in the back, we just got it in. Similar to this one but it’s perfect for you. Will be far more flattering. A body like that… you should show it off.” 

You did not pick up on the obvious flirting in his tone, particularly as that was the farthest thing from your mind. You merely nodded with a smile. “Thank you. That would be great. Can’t wait to see it.” 

“I’ll bring that and a couple other pieces. We technically aren’t supposed to show them yet but for a friend,” he winked at you. “I can bend a few rules.” 

“Really??” You were merely excited about getting an advanced look at your favorite store’s new pieces. 

“Of course. Be right back.” 

“Thank you!” You watched him for a few moments as he walked away before turning to Michael whose face was set in a scowl. “Everyone here’s so nice all the time.” 

“That nigga’s nice cause he wants to fuck you,” Michael grumbled, his tone signaling that he was not as pleased with the service as you.” 

Your jaw fell open before you laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Men rarely flirted with you, if ever. “Come on, baby. Don’t be silly. He wants us to spend money, likely to make his commission better so he’s just being extra complimentary.” 

“Nahhh, I watched him basically undress you with his fuckin’ eyes, Princess. Besides, I’m the one payin’ and nigga didn’t say shit to me. Acted like I’m not even here. I don’t like him.” 

You merely laughed, clearly not realizing that Michael was genuinely upset with the salesman. “Aww my grumpy baby. You don’t like anyone,” you teased before disappearing into your dressing room to try on more outfits. 

Outfit after outfit, you pranced around for your boyfriend and gave him a fashion show. He was thoroughly unhelpful as he loved 95% of the items you tried on and refused to help you narrow down the massive stack of clothes. Anytime you went shopping, he thought you should buy everything you remotely liked, even if you had one exactly like it in the closet at home. 

“What do you think? Don’t need both black dresses,” you muttered more to yourself than either man in the room. 

“You look perfect in both. Just get both.” 

“Not helpful, babe!” 

“I think you should get the one you have on. Shows off your body better.” 

“You commentin’ on her body a lil too much, my nigga,” Michael called out, clearly frustrated by Marcus’ innocent compliments toward you as you finished trying on clothes. 

“Michael!” You whipped your head around in shock at his rudeness. “Sorry, he gets very grumpy when we’ve been shopping too long.” 

“No apologies needed,” he raised his hands in surrender before making an excuse to go to the back of the store to get her something else. 

You scoffed once he was gone, you and Michael having a silent standoff. 

“That was hella rude,” you chastised him. 

Michael merely shrugged “Hella rude for him to openly flirt with my girl in front of me. He bold enough for that shit, he’s bold enough to take the heat.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Nah and what were you doin’? Flirting back with that nigga.” 

You let out a laugh at the absurdity of that statement. “Flirting back?? It’s called being nice. I only got eyes for one, very jealous man.” 

And with that, you disappeared back into the changing room to put back on your real clothes. You could not understand what was up with Michael as of late. He seemed to be so much more jealous than he used to be lately, snapping or glaring at any man who got too close or talked to you for too long. He had done the same thing at a premiere just last week. You had chalked the first couple times up to him having a bad day but now you wondered if something else was wrong. 

“You ok?” You asked as you both patiently waited for Marcus to package your mountain of clothes and accessories. 

His eyebrow was furrowed with an angry expression on his face. Still packing most of the weight of Erik Killmonger, he looked intimidating to say the least. But you did not understand what he could be that upset about, nothing had even happened. 

He did not answer you, merely handing Marcus his card to finish paying. 

“Need help getting these to your car?” Marcus asked, his hands already preparing to grab the heavy garment bags and smaller shopping bags 

“That would be g-” you started to say when Michael immediately cut you off. 

“Nah we got it.” His short tone made you cringe slightly, Marcus’s face blanching at the rudeness of it. 

He gestured for his security to pick up the bags and grabbed the rest himself before gesturing for you to exit the store. You merely offered a polite thank you before following him out of the store. 

***

As soon as you walked into the house, you started up the stairs to put your new items in their proper spots when he stopped you. 

“Princess!” 

“What’s up, babe?” 

His tone and face looked almost bored as he scrolled on his phone. “When you’re done, assume the position by the counter.” 

Your eyes grew wide with surprise. Assume the position was a clear directive in the Jordan household, one that let you know the relaxing evening you had planned was not going to happen. A sign that you had upset your master, and thus, must be punished. 

“What did I do??” The logical part of your brain was well aware he was not going to tell you. If your infraction was not obvious, he rarely told you what it was until the punishment had started. But as you racked your brain, you could not understand what on Earth you did to upset him. You had a really nice day together and aside from the weird interaction with the sales associate, he seemed fine. Then it clicked in your brain. 

His jealous streak seemed to not have ended earlier, after all. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. 10 minutes.” 

He did not spare you another glance before he disappeared toward the living room, leaving you gawking after him on the stairwell.

“Fuck my life,” you muttered as you raced up the stairs. You completely disregarded your original mission of putting your clothes away, you did not have time for that. 

Instead, you stripped down to nothing and pulled your braids out of their high ponytail. You went to your drawer and pulled out the various things you knew were required: your collar and leash, nipple clamps, flogger, blindfold, and ball gag. He did not always use them all and sometimes he used none of them. But that was another thing for him to know and you to find out. 

You descended down the stairs, your entire body almost floating with anticipation. You knew whatever he had planned would be the most delicious form of torture and that he would fuck you senseless once you begged for his forgiveness enough. 

Michael was leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone as he waited. Ingredients for dinner laid out on the counter. 

“Thinkin’ short ribs for dinner. Cool?” He asked, his voice completely calm and normal despite what you knew was about to happen. The sweet, doting finace who cared what you wanted for dinner would disappear and a new persona would take over. 

“Sounds good. Thanks, babe.” 

“You ready, Princess?” he asked, checking in as he always did before an intense punishment or scene, which you always appreciated. They were punishments but they were supposed to be pleasurable, in a way, for you too. 

“Yes, daddy,” you answered immediately, handing him all the toys you brought with you before sinking down to your knees before him. You spread your legs just enough for your flower to be on display for him, already wet and aching for his rough touch in the mere minutes he left you. The chill of the house caused the hair on your arms to stick up but you ignored it, things would heat up in a few minutes. 

You wanted to smirk as you watched his eyes cloud with lust but you kept your face neutral. Michael was gone and your master stood in front of you. And his perfect, submissive fuck toy replaced you, designed and ready for whatever pain or pleasure he was generous enough to offer. And the growing ache between your thighs revealed a simple truth: you loved every single second of being his slut. 

Your eyes remained trained on the wood panels of the kitchen floor as he silently studied you. The minutes stretched on and on at an agonizing pace but you did not lift your head or move an inch. However, you could not stop the little sigh of relief that passed your lips when you finally saw his feet come into your line of vision. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, your mouth falling open with a small moan as he squeezed. It was not hard, just enough to let you know he was there. More, you wanted to beg. That was the problem, it did not matter what he did. You just wanted more of it and more of him. You were so addicted to the drug that was Michael, it felt like a lifetime supply would not even be enough. 

His hand forced your head upward so you were looking directly into his expressive brown eyes, your favorite part of him. This position could have had you cumming right then. 

All you could think about was how good it felt to have his hand squeezing your throat while you rode his dick. The mere memory made your pussy clench. But that was not in the cards for you… not yet anyway. 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He knew everything about his little fuck toy, exactly what his Princess wanted and needed. And there was not a man alive who knew it better. “Such an eager fuck toy for me. That’s why you were tryin’ on all those slutty clothes today? Think you’d get my attention and I’d come back here and fuck you like the attention-seeking whore you are?” He asked as he let go of your throat, much to your sadness, and started circling you. A predator sizing up his prey, indeed. 

You were not foolish enough to answer a single question he levied, they were rhetorical. 

“But I wasn’t the only man whose attention you got. Bet you loved that shit too… his hands on you fixing your outfits, complimenting you. Flirting with him, accepting his help right in front of your master. I should’ve fucked you right there in front of him to remind you that there’s only one man whose attention you should want.” 

The thought of that made your head spin. Him forcing you to your knees in the dressing room, fucking you from behind, claiming you and your body loudly for every person to hear. 

He gently put your collar around your neck, the fur lining made it more comfortable than it would have been otherwise. It was custom, Princess Y/N, embroidered on it. 

“Too tight?” he asked as he attached the leash to it. 

“No master,” you muttered. 

“Good.” 

He tugged on it, forcing you in step behind him. You bit back the moans this caused, him walking you around your living room and kitchen for a few minutes. He knew how much you loved to crawl behind him. It was clear he was trying to ramp you up as much as possible before the punishment truly started. And it was working perfectly. 

By the time you returned to the spot you started at in the kitchen, your knees in pain from the hardwood floor, your body was screaming for his touch. Your core felt painfully empty, you were desperate to feel him on you, inside you. He slid the blindfold over your eyes. 

You whimpered for a moment at the sudden loss of sight, sensory deprivation was a new game for you both and you were still getting used to it. 

“Say the word and the blindfold can come off, Princess,” he whispered. At your nods, he continued. “Face down, ass up. Legs spread. Don’t move a muscle.” 

You adjusted yourself to assume his favorite position. You hissed as your upper body laid against the cool kitchen floor but you made sure the arch in your back was perfect, your ass perched high in the air. Your legs were spread enough for him to see the glistening mess coating your inner thighs. 

“You disgustin’ cum slut. Crawlin’ like a whore made you that wet?” He degraded you, making your entire body shudder as his hands caressed your ass. 

“Yes daddy,” you breathed out, your brain already losing the ability to fully form words. The fog of pleasure was already heavy and he had not even started. “I-I’m sorry.” 

You tensed up sightly, knowing that when you least expected it, his caresses would turn into sharp blows that would make you cry out. However, just as quickly as he started touching you, he stopped. You could not feel his presence around you at all. You had not been given permission to move and you could not see him. You could not even sense where he was anymore. 

Had he left you there? Naked and unable to move like a statue? After a few moments, you heard soft footsteps not far away, causing you to exhale slightly. He was still hovering around. 

Minutes passed by, slower than you thought time could move, as he just left you there without  a single touch or word. But you followed directions, your legs would literally collapse before you moved a muscle. 

Your mind raced to understand why he was not punishing you. And after about 15 minutes of utter silence except for the sounds of him cooking, you longed for it. The sting of his palm, the fire of the flogger against your ass, your thighs, your back, literally anywhere at this point. But there was nothing. This was more of a punishment than the spanking. If you had been given permission to speak, you would have begged for your own torture at this point, would have begged for as many lashings as he felt you deserved for being such a shameless whore. But you could do nothing, nothing but sit with shaking legs in your disorienting haze of pleasure until he decided that you were worth even doling out a punishment on. 

It was clear to you why he chose that particular spot, a spot you knew was visible to him regardless of where he stood in the kitchen. You were on display. 

At that realization, you deepened the arch in your back to something you didn't even know was possible. You had to force yourself not to wiggle your ass in his face, entice him to light it on fire with his strength. 

“Couldn’t even last 15 minutes without daddy’s attention, could you?” You were not sure if you were allowed to answer. “You may speak, Princess.” 

“D-daddy pl-please…” you begged. 

“Didn’t seem to care about me earlier. Why should I give you attention now?” 

“B-Because… I need…” your words failed you. You needed so much in that moment. You needed the pain, you needed the pleasure it brought, you needed to be reminded what you were and whose you were. 

“You need what? Need me to make you cum? You’ll be grateful if I let you cum at all tonight. Need me to fuck you like the cumslut you are? Not sure you deserve my dick. Or you need me to remind you what happens to disobedient fuck toys who anger their masters? Need me to remind you who owns you?” 

“Y-Yes! P-Please… I d-deserve to be punished. I n-need it.” The words barely left your lips before you felt the first blow of the flogger against your ass. “T-Thank you,” you moan, savoring the sting and ache it left behind. 

However, you could not savor it long as he rained them down on every inch of your ass and thighs and a couple well-placed agonizing ones against your pussy that made you scream. You kept count, as was already required. 

“Keep your legs open, slut or I’ll add five more,” he demanded as your entire body convulsed as the flogger caught part of your clit. You forced your body to maintain the position, which took all your willpower. And to think, you begged for this. 

Tears were streaming down your face when he reached 29. That was the most he had ever done with the flogger as it was more painful than his hand and it was torture. However, you took it, the desire to use your safeword never coming to your mind. You would not be able to sit tomorrow but your entire body was on fire, hot, sweaty and desperate for him to fuck the shit out of you. 

When you finally said 30, you were proud of yourself for taking all of it like a champ. 

“That’s a good slut. You should see your ass right now,” he muttered. “So beautiful.” You could only imagine your entire body was completely red and you could feel a couple welts from where he punished you in the same spot over and over again. “You may sit up.” 

You whimpered as you stretched and moved out of your position, your muscles protesting. As you sat up, his hand cupped your cheek and wiped away the few falling tears. 

“Too much?” he asked quietly. 

“No sir. T-thank you for r-reminding me what I am,” you whisper. 

He helped you to your feet, your legs shaking slightly. 

“Let’s watch somethin’ on the tv. Short ribs are slow cookin’.”

Despite the pain in your body, you could not help but smile. This was what made the punishments worth it, this moment. You were happy he let you walk to the couch, giving you a chance to stretch your legs. You stood and watched, licking your lips as he stripped off his clothes before sitting down, his head dripping with pre-cum that made you want to sink to your knees and steal a taste. You licked your lips, longing clearly written on your face that made Michael want to chuckle. He knew how much his Princess loved servicing him on your knees. 

“Don’t even think about it. Worthless cunts who can’t remember who they belong to don’t get a taste. Why?” 

“Because servicing you is a reward and I don’t deserve a reward, daddy,” you mumbled quietly, your voice just as lost and pitiful as you felt. This was the point of punishment though because all you now wanted to do was assure him you were his perfect, obedient princess so you could be rewarded. 

“Good girl. Earn my forgiveness and maybe I’ll fuck that sweet mouth before bed tonight. Now for your punishment…” 

Your eyes grew wide. The last 30 minutes had not been the punishment?? 

Fuck my life. 

“Climb up here and sit on my dick. Facing the tv.” 

You practically catapulted onto his dick without hesitation. Not just because good girls did what they were told without hesitation but because this was your type of punishment. RIding his dick was your favorite pastime.

You slid down on his hard dick, moaning loudly as he filled you to the brim. It was not the orgasm your body desperately needed but it satisfied the overwhelming, blinding carnal need to be filled you felt. You immediately started rocking your hips to increase the friction and pleasure when a powerful and painful swat against your already bruised ass stopped your movements. 

“I didn’t tell your dumb ass to move. Seems like you keep forgetting I own you Princess. This pussy… this body… it’s all mine. And no one else gets to touch what’s mine, no one else controls what’s mine. So you’re gonna sit there on my dick and you’re not gonna move until I tell you to. When I tell you to ride my dick, you do it. When I tell you to stop, you fuckin’ stop. Understand?” 

“D-Daddy please?” you hoped your pleas for mercy and the soft puppy eyes you had on would be enough to soften his resolve. Of all the things he had forced you to do since walking in the house, this was the worst of them. To feel him inside you and be so close to bringing him the pleasure he deserved and you desperately needed but not be allowed to? 

Fuck my life. 

“You should be thankin’ me for even letting your worthless cunt warm my dick. Now sit there and watch the show,” he nodded toward the tv where an episode of both of your favorite anime was playing. 

You moaned and turned around, trying to keep your attention focused on the show in front of you. However, it was impossible. 

This was an utterly new sensation and, while it was torturous, you could not deny that it was pleasurable in its own way. 

Michael’s girth and length was something to be reckoned with and he knew how to use it. His dick perfectly curved into your g-spot and could have you cumming with a few strokes. As you sat on him, his hands occasionally wandered to caress your other pleasure zones. His strong hands massaged your inner thighs causing you to moan. 

You wondered if you could orgasm from just sitting there. You would not because you did not have permission but you wondered if it was possible. Because between his hands and the feel of him inside you, you could think of nothing else. You could feel every inch of him, his dick throbbing and pulsing like a heartbeat against your walls. 

Your body squirmed in his touch, your moans as he played with your body were consistent, particularly when he brushed against your clit. He offered a featherlike touch, it was barely there but you were so worked up, you felt every jolt of pleasure through your body magnified. 

Your pussy clenched around him as if silently begging him to move. But you knew he would not allow you to until he was ready. 

He worked up a rhythm against your clit, your movements becoming more uncontrolled, your breaths heavier. You weren’t gonna last long like this.

“Whose pussy is this, Princess?” 

“Yours, daddy. Only y-yours.” 

“Who can bring you pleasure like your master?” 

“N-No one. J-just you.” 

“Never forget that shit, understand?” 

You nodded fervently. Every punishment had a lesson and this one was etched into your brain matter as now was the feeling of every vein and inch of his dick. 

“I w-won’t! I promise, daddy.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your bare back, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Cum on my dick, Princess.” 

With permission to cum, you stopped holding back and allowed your body to feel everything. Fuck his fingers knew exactly what buttons to push as your body finally got the pleasure it needed for the last hour. The build up was so fast you barely got to enjoy it but you did not care, you needed the crash, the fall to drown in the pleasure only he could provide. And when you reached the peak, you crashed hard. 

“You like that, baby? You gon’ cum for daddy?” 

“Y-Yes… fuck… t-thank you!” you cried out as you threw your head back as an explosion of pleasure took over every inch of your body. You felt pleasure down to the very cells that made up every part of you. 

You gasped as Michael’s hand wrapped around your long hair and gripped it, pulling you backward. He turned you so his mouth could claim yours, drowning out your moans and cries with a kiss so dominating you never wanted it to end. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, causing your heart to soar. “You’ve earned my forgiveness. Ride.” 

You did not need to hear anything else as you started to ride him with abandon, moaning every time his head rammed into your g-spot. You’d cum again before this was over but you made it your personal mission to ensure he did too. You pulled out every trick and play you had in the book until you felt his hands dig into your hips and he started ramming into you. 

You let him take control as he fucked you like a rag doll, ignorning the ache of your bruised ass and thighs as he slammed into them with every thrust upward. He kept you flush to his chest with one hand wrapped tight around your neck, the gentleness of his choking earlier long gone. 

“Where you want it?” he demanded as you felt the signs of him about to cum. 

“Cum inside me, please!” you begged. Michael knew you had a bit of a breeding kink, loving the feeling of him filling you with his cum. That was often another punishment when he would cum on you instead of inside you. Not that him marking his territory was really a punishment. 

“Want me to fill this sweet cunt, baby??” 

“Yes! Please, please!” you begged as he fucked you so hard you felt as if you would be seeing stars for hours. 

You could not stop your body from convulsing as you felt the warmth of his cum surge inside you, you clenched around him. 

Your legs burned as you used your arms, braced on his knees to stop your upper body from toppling forward. He rubbed soothing patterns along your spine to calm you. Michael pushed you to your limit every time but he also knew how to take care of you afterward. 

He lifted you off of him, a slight whimper escaping your lips at the emptiness you suddenly felt. He only sat you down long enough to stand up himself and you were quickly back in his arms, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he carried you up to your master suite. 

He laid you on the bed and got some soothing lotion and started massaging it everywhere the flogger hit you. You shuddered at the cool feeling but it felt heavenly combating the stinging you still felt and soreness you knew you would still feel tomorrow. 

“You did so good for me, Princess,” he offered, your sweet Michael clearly having returned to you. 

That was all you needed to hear, that you had pleased him. 

“Thank you.” Your gratitude was muffled against the comforter of your shared bed. After a few moments of silence, you sat up and glanced back at him. “You know you’re it for me, right? Don’t have eyes for anyone else.” 

“Yea I know… sometimes I just worry…” his voice trailed off. 

You ignored the ache to shift over to him and straddle his waist, his hands resting on your hips. “You’re always reassuring me, sometimes I forget you need that too. You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It’s you and me till the end of the line, babe.” You teasingly peppered his face with kisses until he finally smiled and started laughing. 

“You and me, baby.” 

“But anytime you wanna get a little jealous and possessive and it leads to that? Feel free,” you joked, the scene still dominating every space in your mind. At your words, you suddenly became hyper aware of his member pressed against your core and instinctively started grinding on top of him. 

“Princess,” he growled. “This time ain’t about me,” he reminded her. Aftercare was about you and he was committed to it. 

“How much time do we have till dinner?” 

“Two hours.” 

“Enough time for you to teach me my lesson again and then take care of me. Don’t think it quite stuck,” you shrugged nonchalantly, taking on your bratty persona to rile him up. 

You shrieked as he flipped you over onto your back and stood up. Master was back and he was ready to make the most of those two hours.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading!! My requests are open if you have more asks/requests… just know that it takes me a while lol

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought :)

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[sneaky-eel]

I decided to replay assassin's creed 2 and my very gay roommate plops down on the couch with me.

Him: is he gay?

Me: Desmond? Why?

Him: look at his walk. That is a very cunty walk. He is throwing his hips. Did they steal him from a gay bar?

Me: Well, he was a bartender in New York. I don't think they say what kind of bar.

Him: Oh yeah, he's gay.

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #written post #he is already making fanfic in his head #others include #him: he is a bottom #him:a pillow princess #he also thinks Ezio is adorable #not hot #not cute #but “adorable” #I'm kinda excited to show him brotherhood #all i can think about is how Desmond walks like Altair

[kiatheinsomniac]

hi kia :) are you doing ok? i hope you are queen 💃 I was wondering if you could write how the assassins (altair, ezio, connor, arno, jacob) would react to a reader who suddenly passed out after standing up too fast 😭 it happened to me yesterday and it made me laugh so hard afterwards like thats the goofiest way to pass out ever 💀 iron deficiency queen 👏

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: bestie mood. i stand up too quickly and immediately go semi-blind and have to lean on things for support lol 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: altaïr, ezio, ratonhnhaké:ton | connor, arno, jacob 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

｡･:*˚:✧｡ altaïr ibn-la'ahad

♡ he's got the fastest reflexes you've ever seen, he's lunging to catch you so you don't fall or hit your head. He immediately checks that you're still breathing and will cup your face in his hands and give firm pats to your cheeks while talking loudly to you, trying to pull you back to consciousness

♡ when he finds out why you've passed out, he's immediately reprimanding you and sending you to go and eat enough nutritious foods.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ezio auditore

♡ he wasn't quick enough to catch you yes this is based on how quick you have to be to interact with the game or you don't get to hug Leonardo sobs but he does immediately check you over for injury, your head being the first he checks. He lays you on your back with your head in his lap as he waits the few moments it takes for you to return to consciousness

♡ he immediately begins to ask how you feel and if anywhere hurts and wants to know if you're sick or if you've been eating or drinking enough. He'll pick you up bridal style and cook you a meal himself if it's older Ezio but younger Ezio will lay you down somewhere cosy while he sends for a servant to cook for you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ratonhnhaké:ton | connor kenway

♡ he won't show it but he panics. He's watched his village be burned to the ground as a child and his life's work revolves around killing people so when he sees you drop to the floor, his first though isn't that you've fainted but that you've died.

♡ he soon gets over that moment of gut-wrenching panic though and comes to his senses, immediately checking you over for injury, checking your temperature and your breathing. He sets you down somewhere comfortable, assuming you're now on your way to bruising from hitting the ground. He makes sure that you get plenty to eat and drink, trying to use the most nutritious ingredients he can for you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ arno dorian

♡ another one who panics due to childhood trauma: when he sees someone laid on the floor like that, for a moment, that awful memory of his father flashes before his eyes. He's not so good at hiding his concern as Connor is though. The panic is evident in his voice as he calls out to you and dashes to your side.

♡ Arno knows to make sure that you haven't hit your head or anything and he sets your head in his lap while he waits for you to regain consciousness. When your eyes do open again and you look up at him, you'll see teary eyes and shaking hands on him. But he's just relieved you're ok. You'll get a very pointed tongue-lashing from him following by him insisting on making sure you're well-fed and hydrated

｡･:*˚:✧｡ jacob frye

♡ with quick reflexes and his very extroverted personality, Jacob is either fast enough to catch you or surrounded by some Rooks who he can call to so they can break your fall if he's too far. His first worry is that you're overworking yourself so he makes sure you get a break from work

♡ cannot cook to save his life so he's had to go out and order food to bring back for you (or he's begged Evie to cook for which he now owes her many favours) but he insists that you eat and drink well to recover

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@gojohater101 @ayameiris4 @veryfancydoilies @asuni921  @writing-noah @danielle-marie @minimisthios @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @etherealsdreaming @loopycorn1123 @jofie-does-things @havatnah @weasleytwins-41 @firagirl @catou1305 @daddyadler @b3k1720 @asianbutnotjapanese

#✎ kia’s 2k event ༉‧ ♡*.✧ #altaïr ibn la'ahad x reader #altaïr x reader #altaïr ibn la'ahad #altaïr #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed #assassins creed x reader #ezio auditore x reader #ezio x reader #ezio #ezio auditore #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton #arno dorian x reader #arno dorian #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye

[sulfies]

Heavy Bleeding effect Des ends up in Altaïr times, his survival mode kicks in he bleeds as Altaïr for a week and just ends up at the bureus doing random assigments and Altair looses his mind to the bureu people being like "Did you hit your head Brother? You finished the task 3 days ago"

#assassin's creed #Desmond is horrified once he snaps out of it #before he does he is just as confused as altair bc the other Bureus ar elike “didnt u leave for Acre 2 days ago #is it imposter syndrome when u dont know ur the imposter #extra points if this is cocky altair times so everypnes also confused on why one altair is screaming at them while another day he is polit #fanfic

[henneseyhoe]

Adonis being clingy with his wife and new baby.

Adonis x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: postpartum depression mentions, other baby related stuff

SUMMARY: Adonis trying to be as helpful as he can, but the reader finds it a bit overwhelming while dealing with postpartum depression.

✮✮✮✮

“Pacifiers?”

“Check”

“Burping cloth?”

“Check”

“Bibs?”

“Check. Babe, we have everything. I promise” I chuckle, watching Adonis go through a list of baby necessities on his phone, while trying to calm the whining boy in his arms, the man being adamant on keeping everything where they need to be just for times like this when his son was irritated.

“We have diapers right?”

“Mhm”

“What about wipes?”

“Yes, all in the nursery, Donnie”

“Okay, good, good….you need anything? Thirsty?” He tucks his phone away, rocking the now resting baby in his arms.

“Mmm…water, maybe?” I shrug and he nods, rushing out of the room. He had been acting like this all day, running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. I hadn’t even been home for two hours yet, just coming back from the hospitals secondary check up after a very unplanned home birth. The house was a mess from two days ago, my poor mother and brother being stressed out of their minds trying to deliver a baby that wasn’t supposed to be here just yet.

Luckily, him coming two weeks earlier didn’t matter and he was healthy as a horse. with the way he was screaming at the top of his lungs, you could tell that was a healthy baby. But, meanwhile I was pushing a 5 pound, big headed baby out of me, Adonis was scrambling to find a flight back to Cali so he could make it to the birth, which was unsuccessful. It took an entire day and some change to get back home, the man so disappointed in himself that he took a business trip so late in my 3rd trimester.

Though I told him to do it, he still felt bad, promising to never leave my side in circumstances like this ever again. The birth went smoothly even though it wasn’t expected, and as soon as Adonis landed, he was blowing up my phone with FaceTimes back to back. And he was completely serious with the ‘never leave your side” thing, cause he was on me like white on rice when he got home. Helping me to and from the bathroom, even though I could walk fine, supplying me with any kind of food or snack I asked for, diaper duty, which was the best perk, and massages.

He was showering me with all kinds of love and affection, but as fast as my high came from giving birth, the lows swooped in just as quick. The 6th day after birth came and postpartum depression came knocking. I was still functioning though. Not cause I wanted to, but because I had an infant now and had no time to dissect why I really felt the way I did.

As more days passed, I became more agitated with my circumstances and Adonis constant ‘bugging’. I knew it was from a place of love, but I needed rest before anything. I was just too cautious to tell him that, afraid I’d end up sounding like a bitch because I wanted a break from my husband for a few hours. Some women would have to beg their husbands to do what Adonis does, but I felt ungrateful because I didn’t have to, and quickly got tired of that because of emotions I couldn’t control.

✮✮✮✮

About three more days had gone by, and it had officially been a month since giving birth. My postpartum depression had subsided a bit, and I felt better about myself, but Adonis was the same, and so was my sleep schedule.

“…can I help you, sir?” I look over my shoulder, spotting my husband watching me intensely. The infant I had in my arms whines and mixes at the sudden movements, unlatching from my nipple for a moment before going right back to feasting. I was reclined in a couch placed in the nursery, praying to god that I could catch some Z’s.

“Huh?” He queries, still staring.

“You’ve been following me around the house like a lost puppy all day. Now you over my shoulder watching me nurse like I don’t know what I’m doing” I say, a bit agitated since I haven’t slept for more than a few hours everyday for the passed month.

“What? I know you know what you’re doing, baby” He completely ignores my other statement, his attention still drawn to my current ‘activity’. I blink at him for a prolonged second, then laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, well back up off my bumper, can you?” I suggest, waving him off with my hand. He sighs, leaning up and walking away. “Your daddy is a bit obsessed, don’t you think?” I look down at our son, his brown eyes fluttering closed as he begins to drift off into his fourth nap of the day.

I close my eyes too, relaxing.

‘Maybe I could sneak in a nap too’

just as I thought I was gonna have peace and quiet, I feel Adonis plop down right besides me, looking over my shoulder. I was in my right mind to lock him in a room now. I sigh, opening my eyes back up to the unpleasant sight of the sun shining through the baby blue curtains across from me. I’d rather see the inside of my eyelids. I was exhausted.

“…he looks like me, doesn’t he?” He pokes, smiling down at his new found pride and joy.

I slowly turn my head to the man, his face being so close to me that our noses touch. “Donnie…get outta my face” I mellowly warn him, ready to run him out of the nursery.

“I’m sorry! I’m just intrigued. I wasn’t there for when he came, I just wanna make that time back” I bite back a loud cackle for the sake of not scaring my son out of his cinnamon toned skin. Snorting, I cover my mouth.

Giving him a ‘be serious’ look with the tilt of my head, I uncover my mouth. “Donnie, please. It’s been almost five weeks since his birth, you came a day late, and it’s not your fault. Be happy you even found a flight that would get you back here so suddenly. Plus, you already made that 24 hours back, now you just being clingy” I say, pecking his lips twice. “It’s just a bit…overwhelming right now, that’s all,”

“I’m not saying it’s you, I’m not not really in a place to…ya know…be as social with you as I was before”

He nods, understanding. “And you know I love you, but sometimes I don’t need anything at all, just silence” Taking in everything I say, he doesn’t argue, understanding that maybe he was doing a little much on the waiting hand and foot, asking me questions at every movement I made.

He caresses my thigh, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m really not trynna stress you, I just don’t wanna feel like I’m not doin’ enough, or want you to feel like I don’t care”

I smile. “It’s okay. Just tone it down a bit, okay? Next week I promise you can be as clingy with us as you want” he nods, starting to play with the little mitten that covered our sons hand. I knew he still wasn’t gonna leave any time soon yet, waiting for the baby to stop eating so he could hold him again. I just let him be. For now.

“Does it hurt?” He asks suddenly, and I shake my head. “Not really. It did for the first few times, but since he’s latching better, no”

“…he getting enough, right?”

I pause, my eyebrow raising at the man.

“Yes, my titties produce enough milk for our son. Any other questions, doc?” I ask with playful attitude.

He shakes his head, still looking. It was silent for a moment , only the sounds of summer rain tapping against the window and swallowing followed by shallow sighs from the infant being heard. That was until I decided to put my boob up and replace my nipple with his favorite paci since he had fallen asleep, remembering the doctor told me not to feed him while he’s not awake, considering my milk supply was fine and he gets full fast.

Yet, that still doesn’t stop my husband from breathing down my neck, attempting to reach for him, which I dodge by brushing him off with my shoulder.

Taking a breath, I glare at him. “What, Adonis? You wanna feed him?”

His eyes glimmer with excitement as he smiles, perking up at the simple question. “I can? Yeah” he asks before quickly answering.

“Grow some titties then” I pat his chest then stood to my feet, now attempting to burp the resting baby.

#creed iii #creed 3 #adonis #adonis creed #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black actors #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #smut masterlist #henneseyhoe #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #black tumblr #writing #writers on tumblr

[knine-nights-loves-ac]

Memes for another one of my fav AC fics!

For the fic Eagle of Alamut! Written by @teecupangel

#assassin's creed #assassins creed #desmond miles #desmond miles ac #assassin’s creed #altair ibn la'ahad #Altaïr #altair #altaïr ibn la'ahad #Altaïr ac #altair ac #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fic rec #memes

[vastseamind]

I swear to the Gods I will search Karlach x Reader and all the comes up is Astrion. It’s honestly fucking infuriating because I don’t want to read about him. I could be one thing if there was just a scarcity of fic with her (which there is,) but the fact that every single time I search it, he comes up. This either leads me to believe that people are idiotic and can’t tag correctly or that tumblr is just fucking me and hates wlw content. 

She’s also not the only character that this happens to. I’ve noticed it happens a lot when it specifically comes to wlw content that is centralized around, not fem presenting characters. Almost every assassin‘s creed, character thats a woman or Abby Anderson (TLOU2) Dani Rojas (Far Cry 6) and so on when it comes to buff women. It’s honestly draining.

Anyways, there’s the rant, haters will be blocked ✌🏽

Tag your shit correctly

That’s means y’all that put x Reader then add a name. THAT’S UR FUCKING OC BABE, TAG IT AS SUCH YOUR RUINING THE VIBE! REALLY SHOULD NOT BE HARD!

#x reader fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #abby anderson #Karlach x reader #Dani Rojas x reader #far cry 6 #bg3 #fanfic #assasin's creed valhalla #assassin’s creed #assassins creed odyssey #kassandra x reader #eivor x reader

[snailtrain]

actually E2 for Desmond and Altair too

ehehehehehehe

this is a fill for this meme

#desmond miles #altair ibn la'ahad #assassin's creed #eagle of alamut!desmond my beloved... #why YES i DO stick references to my favourite fanfics into my art thanks for asking #askmeme #doodle #lmao desmond's forehead is so big #if i cared i'd fix it but i don't because meme

[saberamane]

...so I have a very specific excerpt from a mid-work fantasy I had today.

All you need to know is Desmond is a bartender at a new bar, conveniently owned by Ezio's family in modern times (assassin's may or may not exist, it really doesn't matter). Giovanni still is the head of a bank and very Important and has decided to have a Very Important Bussiness Dinner at his son's (Ezio) restaurant. It's an authentic Italian place, of course, with all the recipes made by Maria. Friday nights have live, Italian music.

On this specific night, their live performers have failed to appear, and Giovanni's Very Important Bussiness Dinner guests are expecting authentic Italian cuisine and live music. Things are looking bad.

Desmond, newly hired bartender and trying to stay on his new bosses good side (Claudia and Federico also work in the restaurant, but Ezio is the 'main' boss), overhears their predicament and goes all 'I know a guy...'

Cue cousin Clay, who is a classicly trained pianist, being unexpectedly called by his little cousin for a favor.

Clay is not what the Auditore were expecting when he shows up. Ripped jeans, leather jacket, pierced ears, combat boots... Desmond did not mention Clay worked as a bouncer at a club, and dressed like he was in a biker gang...

'Don't worry, I'll fix him up before the performance.'

Clay, in the staff room, trying to squeeze into Desmond's spare uniform.

'Your clothes sizing makes no fucking sense Desmond. Tiniest waist I've ever seen on a man, but with a fat ass and thunder thighs to put a woman to shame. What the fuck is your gym routine?' The black dress pants Clay is currently trying to fit into are distressed where he is trying to pull up the zipper. The waist is just not big enough. The button isn't going to hold, the zipper won't stay up, the seams are straining...

Meanwhile, the Auditore siblings are huddled in the kitchen, eyeing their fathers potential new clients from the little windows in the kitchen doors. They look impressed, so far. The decor is high-end, the wine fantastic, the food both authentic and good...

The entertainment though... Playing the piano is all well and good, but the singer is usually singing in Italian... Would their father's potential clients still be impressed with an English singer??

Clay and Desmond set up on the stage, Clay looking... mostly presentable. There aren't many professional musicians that play classical music with that many studs in their ears...

But Clay plays beautifully, and Desmond can sing? And it's in Italian??

The night goes a lot better than expected after the last-minute canceling of their usual musicians. Desmond and Clay wow the patrons of the restaurant, their father's new clients sign on with enthusiasm.

Desmond and Clay are offered to perform every Friday, should they wish it. It earns Desmond not only an extra check each week, but also an uptick in his tips. Clay, even hating playing something as prissy as piano, can't say no with Desmond's big doe eyes staring at him.

And well...Desmond's employers are worth coming back around to see... Especially when Clay catches the eldest Auditore son eyeing him up and own covertly.

And besides... Clay would do nearly anything to help out his baby cousin. Even something as embarrassing as playing piano.

Especially if the promise of a certain man's attention is on the table.

#personal #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #clay kaczmarek #federico auditore #fanfic drabble

[wolvertooth]

(X-Men 1.5)

tyler mane CLEARLY saying 'oh baby!' in response.......they know. they fucking know. they KNOWWWWWW release the sabrevine cut.

#sabrevine #wolvertooth #sabretooth #victor creed #wolverine #logan howlett #i feel like im the only one who sees x1 sabrevine potential....me n one other fanfic writer from like a decade ago #literally only ever found that one fic. #actually + that one prequel comic that was released where they get a fuck ton of drinks together

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 8 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: This gif has nothing to do with anything other than I thought it was hot as fuck... and baby boy gets a little... rough and ruthless this chapter (in a good way LOL) Enjoy!

***

Michael’s hand lazily grazed the length of Raven’s spine as they laid in bed, limbs tangled and sheets disheveled from their wild night together. It was their first night back since their trip and jet lag spurred Michael to finally introduced ropes into their play and fuck, Raven had been in heaven. Of course, now her body was sore and aching from hanging from his set up and the only plans she had the next day were to sleep. But it was worth every ache and pain she felt and she would gladly sign up for it over and over and over again. 

“You ever think about marriage… kids?” Michael asked, knowing the question was random but it had been on his mind since before it was appropriate to envision that life with her. And with whatever Tasha had planned barreling down on him, something in him yearned to know that she saw a future with him, that she wanted a future with him. 

“Yea. I mean I didn’t think it would happen for me. I think about marriage a lot. Kids are… tough,” she muttered, her nails grazing against his skin, so lightly it made him feel almost ticklish. 

“You’re afraid of not being there for them?” 

Raven shifted uncomfortably on his chest. She rested her head against his heart, the soft thumps of his heartbeat soothing to the anxiety coursing through her. She had thought about all of these things with Michael but it was still impossible to believe she truly deserved them, that he truly wanted them with her. And she hated how easily he saw through her, saw her deepest fears and insecurities as if she had just spelled them out for him. 

“Yea, I guess… I wouldn't wish my life on any kid and there’s a lot of all this we have no control over. How much time… when yours is up. It’s always been hard to think about the future though… plan for it. I’ve just always felt like I was being chased and assumed that one day it would catch up to me? This is the first time in my life I don’t feel that… since I met you. So now I suppose I should think about the future.” She paused. “I think I’d like it… not sure how good I’d be at it. Being a mother. Your mom is the closest example I have of a good one. But the chance to build my own family? One with all the things I never had, all the things a child deserves? Yea, it would be nice.” 

“What do you think about building that family… with me?”

Raven perked up, shocked to hear those words come out of his mouth. She did not know why but she had not considered the conversation taking this turn for some reason. The idea of him wanting to marry her was about as foolish as wishing diamonds to cascade from the sky like rain. It just was not realistic. 

“In my wildest fantasies. But…” her voice trailed off.

“What?” 

“I love you… adore you. But I guess there’s still a piece of me that doesn’t believe this is real. That believes you’ll wake up one day and remember that I was the girl you paid to have sex with you. You know… can’t turn a whore into a housewife. And you wouldn’t be wrong, I’m not exactly wifey material. And hell, I’m probably the last person you should want raising your kids. Not a role model, nothing to aspire to. My life is a mess.” 

Michael knew a few months would not undo years of self deprecation but it felt like a physical wound to hear her count herself out like this. How could she not see how perfect she was? How amazing she was? 

“You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that, baby. And should give yourself more credit. You are one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, you’re a survivor, hardworking, gentle, nurturing. That’s everything I want in a wife… and a mother for my children. You’re so much more than whatever your dad or idiot sister convinced you were. You’re everythin’.” 

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, turning away her head to face the opposite wall. She could not let herself believe that. They had not been together long and Raven was still waiting for the honeymoon phase to end and the other shoe to drop. She knew he would walk up one day and realize he could not build anything real with her. He would hurt her and disappoint her just like every other person in her life. She desperately desired to be wrong but she also refused to let herself have too much hope. Because of all the things and people she survived in her life, Michael was the one thing she knew had the power to actually destroy her. 

He pulled her deeper into his chest and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Aint ever told you shit I didn’t mean, baby girl. And I get why you don’t believe it or trust it. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. I’m here for the long haul, we’re gonna build that life together, I promise.” 

Her response felt lodged in her throat, too painful to release into the space. She tried to get them out but saying them out loud would make them too real. So she just pressed her lips into his chest before turning over and closing her eyes. She knew she did not need to say anything for Michael to know how she felt. He always knew. 

As he watched her attempt to sleep, Michael thought about his meeting the next day with Alex. He had spent his entire trip and tonight so wrapped up in his girl that he almost forgot Tasha was threatening to destroy their bubble. He had to figure out what to do because he saw that future with Raven as clear as day and no one and nothing would stand in his way. 

***

“I can’t believe you,” Alex muttered to herself as she paced around her office. “You know… one day, I would just love it if you summoned me or came down here with good news. You saved a fuckin’ family of puppies from a would-be murderer, helped an old lady cross the road, saved someone from a burning building… solved fuckin’ world hunger and told someone. But nooooooooo. It’s never that. It’s always some problem because you literally can’t keep your fuckin’ dick to yourself. Have you ever heard of masturbation?? O-Or a fuckin’ fleshlight??” 

Michael groaned as she ranted about his recklessness and foolishness.

“So you gon’ keep yellin’ at me or tell me how to fix this?” 

Alex scoffed. “Fixing the fact that you got involved with, not one, but TWO prostitutes, proceeded to fall in love with one of them like this is some nigga’s version of Pretty Woman, causing the other prostitute to get so jealous, she is extorting you for money is so far above my pay grade, it isn’t even funny.” 

“The amount I pay you?? Ain’t shit above your pay grade,” Michael muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t know why you’re mad at me! I’m the victim here. Blackmail is a crime!” 

Alex could not keep the shrill laughter that bubbled to her lips from spilling over. “Oh fuck off. ‘I’m the victim,’” she mimicked with a vicious glare. “You're not the victim. You’re the fuckin’ unserious superstar idiot I’ve saddled my entire career to. But you sure as fuck aren’t the victim. The only victim here will be Raven. And me when I die prematurely from dealing with your bullshit. But mainly Raven when this girl tells the entire world she made her living getting paid for sex. They’ll rip her to shreds. You wouldn’t understand it because you’re a man and your privilege insulates you. You’ll be a punchline on late night tv for a few weeks and move on but she won’t come back from this. The world won’t let her come back from it.” 

“Didn’t come for a feminism 101 lecture, Alex. I know this fucks her over more than me. How do we fix it??” 

Alex threw her hands up in the air. “Fuck if I know? This is why I don’t like PR relationships, Michael. It always falls apart eventually, secrets don’t last in our world. To be honest, if it’s gonna come out anyway, I'd just admit the truth about how you met before Tasha could. You could own the narrative that way at least. But Raven isn’t going to agree to that, no woman in her shoes would.”

“So aside from giving her more money, how can I stop this?” 

“Wait more money? You already gave her some?” 

Michael shrugged. “Yea like $10k. Why?” 

Alex shook her head. “Well she’s not gonna stop at $10k. Honestly, that’s light work for how much I would’ve demanded. Now we’re dealin’ with a fucking stupid extortionist too.” She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Eventually, it won’t be money she wants, Mike. She wants you and if you don’t want her, then I don’t know how to fix this.” she paused. “What did Raven say about all this?” 

Michael grimaced. “I… haven’t told her.” 

Alex’s eyes grew wide. “Annndd that’s why you schlepped your stupid ass all the way down here instead of having me come to you. You can’t keep this from her. It’s her name and reputation that’ll get dragged to hell and back if Tamara or whatever this fuckin girl’s name is, decides to skip her happy criminal ass to Page 6. You have to tell her, Michael, and let her know that you’re still in contact with this woman. I can sell water to fish in the goddamn ocean, I can spin anything out there. But I won’t be able to mend your relationship if she gets upset that you lied. Tell her and get ahead of this.” 

“I need a plan first. Raven is the strongest person I know, don’t get me wrong. But she’s been through too much shit for me to dump a problem I created on her doorstep. No one… no one in her life protects her. Protects her feelings and body and…” he ran his hand over his face. “I tried countless times since we got back but she’s finally happy, Alex. Finally has some peace. Is it that wrong for me to just pay Tasha and keep it movin’? Raven never even needs to know.” 

“It’s not wrong… the instinct isn’t wrong but it’s not right either when that peace is fiction. It’s not real, Michael. She deserves to know something that affects her life as much, frankly more than yours. Your reputation will recover, it always does. I’m not sure hers will. And maybe she would… make a different choice about your relationship if she knew that.” 

“You want her to leave me?” 

Alex raised her hands in surrender at his sharp tone. “No. I don’t want her to leave you. I actually really like her, certainly more than the other idiot instagram girls you paraded around here as your girlfriends. She did what I thought nothing could… she turned you into a serious person. But… maybe you two do need a break until this Tasha person is willing to let you go. She might decide that protecting her name, her peace… her ability to move through life without a modern scarlet A on her chest is more important than whatever feelings, however strong, she has for you. And you… your directorial debut is out in March. We’re about to start a press run in a month. Award season starts next Sunday, for which you are a highly anticipated nominee. Any scandal detracts from the biggest moment of your career. Look, I’m not telling you to do anything. But I am saying, it’s the only path I see that doesn’t destroy you both. And if you love her as much as you say you do, you’d take the short term hit to save her. Or at least present it as an option.”  

Michael heard everything she said and in his heart, he knew she was right. But what she was asking? His heart and soul would not allow him to do it.

“I can’t lose her, Alex. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I won’t lose her. I know Tash… she’s all bark, no bite. I give her some attention and throw some cash her way and this’ll all blow over.” 

Alex sized him up for a few moments before shrugging. “Well I hope for Raven’s sake, and mine, you know what you’re doing.” 

“I know what I’m doin’, Alex. I promise.” Michael knocked his knuckles against her desk before standing up to leave. 

“Are you really that good at sex?” she mused, glancing at him up and down as if she was trying to imagine it for herself. “I just can’t imagine anyone, especially a man, is good enough in bed to warrant all this.” 

“I know it ain’t your cup of tea,” he offered with a wink. “But what can I say? I’m blessed with hella talents.” 

Alex rolled her eyes. “Alright, well get your hella talented ass outta my office.” However, before he left, she called out. “Oh! The Golden Globes… need to know if you’re taking Raven so they can finalize the sitting chart.” 

Michael rolled his eyes. His least favorite part about his job: award season. An unbearable time of year made worse by the fact that he was nominated at every single one save the Tonys this year. He did not have the energy or desire to sit for hours on end, starving and be forced to smile and wave and pretend to be happy if he lost. But he knew the unbearable practice would be made a bit more bearable if Raven was by his side while he did it. 

“Shit. All this shit goin’ on since New Years, forgot to ask her. Tell them she’s goin’. I just gotta get them to pull her a dress and shit. Thanks for the reminder.” 

And with that, he started to walk out. As he reached his car, he pulled out his phone and texted Tasha to meet him at the St. Regis tomorrow night at 10. He was going to end this as soon as possible. 

***

Michael paced the length of his hotel room, wearing a hole in the carpet as he went. 

“This is a bad idea,” he mumbled to himself a couple of times. But this was the least of about 100 bad ideas in his mind and it was the only bad idea that protected his girlfriend’s peace. He knew Alex was right and it was wrong but he was determined to keep Raven as far from this situation as possible. 

However, even he had to admit to himself that his reasoning was not just to protect her peace. He also did not want to admit that he had still had conversations with Tasha before they were official, that he had made promises to her and then broke them. Raven was one of the few people on this planet who saw him as a good person and he refused to ruin that image. Protecting Raven and, selfishly, how she looked at him was all that mattered to him. What people said about him in the media and on Twitter did not. 

A soft knock on his door jolted him out of his thoughts and his limbs to move. He felt uncomfortable even meeting Tasha here but she had demanded their first meeting be in person. So here he was. 

When he opened the door, Tasha leaned against the door frame with a triumphant smirk painted on her face. A year ago, he would have pulled her inside and tore her clothes off with lightning speed. But today? He had never been less attracted to someone in his life, less enthused to see someone.

“Hey baby.” 

Her arms snaked around his broad shoulders as she leaned in for a kiss. A kiss that Michael artfully and skillfully dodged. He twisted out of her embrace and pulled her into his hotel room, sparing a quick glance down the long hotel hallway to ensure no prying eyes lurked before slamming the door shut.

“You don’t seem happy to see me, baby.” 

Michael could hear the teasing in her voice, could tell she enjoyed whatever power trip she currently had over him. 

“Why would I be happy to see someone blackmailin’ and threatenin’ me?” he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear him. 

“Forcing you to follow through with the promises you made to me is hardly blackmail.” She sat down on the edge of the expansive bed and leaned back slightly on her hands. 

Michael had hoped to keep this “meeting” as brief as possible. He did not want to be in a room with her for any longer than he needed to. He walked over to the bed and grabbed two envelopes he had sat on the bedside table. He tossed the thicker one, filled with cash, at her before walking across the room and leaning on the desk to watch her. 

“Another $10k at your request. Now, tell me a number.”

“A number for what?” she asked innocently. 

“A number big enough to get you to sign this,” he tossed another envelope at her. “Standard NDA and an agreement not to contact me or Raven again.” 

Tasha let out a low humorless chuckle. “All this… for that basic nobody. You never did a fraction of this shit for me…” she mused as she unfolded the papers and read them silently. 

Michael scoffed. “I did everything we agreed to. Flew you out, bought you more shit than I could count. The only thing Raven got that you didn’t was my heart and I’m not apologizin’ for that. What we had was business, Tash. And our business needs to end now. So what’s the number?” 

Tasha stared at him for a few minutes before discarding them on the bed. “Fine. I’ll deal. $50k and one more night. The two of us. And I’ll sign them. That’s the price.” 

“Not happenin’, name a number.” 

Tasha merely shrugged. “Nope. You want me out of your life? That’s the price. Both things.” 

“Why? Let’s cut the bullshit, Tash. You don’t love me, you don’t want me. You want my money. So name a higher number.” 

“You’re absolutely right. I don’t love you… I’m not Raven, an idiot who falls for the first client I get. I love your money and the comfort it provides. But one thing I don’t like is disrespect. You dropped me out in the cold with no warning like two years of fucking you meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. So yea, maybe months ago, it would’ve just been about the money. But now, it’s about so much more than that.” 

“So what? You blackmail me into fuckin’ you one more time and it proves what?” 

Tasha laughed. “Doesn’t prove anything except that you ain’t shit, which I already knew. I don’t need proof of anything. See you and Raven were built on a lie and honestly, watching the two of you fall the fuck apart will bring me far more joy than a couple extra bucks. Fuck me and the guilt will eat that good boy you bury deep inside alive. Eventually, you’ll crack and Raven’ll find out. Or I dunno, maybe I’ll tell her. Either way, I could smell the insecurities on that girl from a mile away. She’ll never forgive you and your relationship falls apart. Don’t fuck me and I tell the world you did anyway and that she was a prostitute. And then your relationship definitely falls apart when her life gets ruined. Either way, I get cash, you end up alone and Raven learns what so many girls before also learned the hard way: don’t fuck with what’s mine. I was thinking of calling TMZ the week of the Oscars? That’ll sure spice up the biggest week of your career. Or maybe right before the Creed III premiere… any preference?” At his silence, she merely shrugged. “Well, just let me know. Feel free to keep booking this room for us until you decide. I always liked this view.” 

As Michael watched her, he quickly realized how he wholly underestimated her in every possible way. This was not a woman who was willing to let him go. Ever. And both of his “choices” were specifically designed to hurt Raven. There was no scenario where she came out of it unscathed. And it was really all his fault. Had he simply cut Tasha off at the onset or been smarter about how he handled her, they would not be in this mess. 

Michael stood and walked toward the door. 

“I’ll call you to book our time next week. Maybe you’ll change your mind. Or maybe I’ll change my mind and call TMZ before then,” she called after him as Michael slammed the door behind them. 

As he stood in the barren hotel hallway, he resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall before his security whisked him away to the service elevator to take him outside to his car. He was thankful Alex had been willing to book the hotel under her name and credit card. He would not have considered it originally but after that conversation, he would not have put it past Tasha to add the hotel receipt to her arsenal of blackmail. 

He slammed the door of his jeep with such force even Allen jumped slightly at the sound. 

“My bad,” he mumbled as he slouched back into his seat. He could not remember the last time something had frustrated him to this degree. He was fucked. They were fucked. Tasha had him by the balls and he knew there was no move that would get him out of this mess without throwing Raven under the bus. 

He refused to cheat on Raven. Not just because he knew it would just give Tasha another thing to hold over him but because that was simply not him. He played the role of the bad boy, terrible guy but the one line he had never crossed with a girlfriend in his life was to cheat on her. He knew that pain intimately and he vowed to never inflict it on someone else. He had never even been tempted to cheat. And Raven would certainly not be the woman he broke that vow on. 

And because he knew he would never sleep with Tasha or any woman who was not Raven again, there was no end to this in sight. He would just have to sit and wait for her to lob a grenade and blow up his girlfriend’s life. And that made him feel like more of a failure than any flopped movie or failed deal ever had. He was supposed to be the one person in her life that protected her and he had failed her, just like everyone else. 

“Bad night, Mr. Jordan?” Allen called from the front seat. 

“Somethin’ like that.” He sighed. “Fucked up and not sure it’s fixable.” 

Allen glanced back in the rearview mirror and nodded. “Is it not fixable or do you just not like the consequences of fixing it?” 

Michael bowed his head. He adored Allen but lately, he hated him and his meddling, correct but unsolicited advice. However, he would never say that to him.

“Mixture of both. Really just no way to fix it that doesn’t hurt someone I love.”

“Raven?” 

“That transparent, huh?” 

Allen smiled to himself. “You always were, sir. If all the answers hurt her, then you have to decide which path causes the least harm to her. And then you just hope she forgives you when it’s over. That’s all you can do. Or you find another path that doesn’t.” 

Michael’s head thudded against his seat’s headrest. He knew Allen was right, just as Alex had been. There was no fixing this situation, no silver bullet that would solve all of their problems and save Raven’s reputation in the process. All roads led to the same destination: the world finding out he and Raven lied. But there was one path that bypassed Tasha, put more of the media focus on him and his terrible decisions, and allowed him to control the when, where, and how of it all. And it did not hurt that this particular path would also allow him to hold Tasha accountable for all her shit in the process. 

“Thanks, Allen.” 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and found Alex’s number. It was late but she was, thankfully, just as much of a night owl as he was. 

“Finish your date with your favorite extortionist?” Alex joked as she picked up the phone. He could hear her munching on something as she spoke, likely popcorn. 

“You always got jokes. Listen… I think you were right earlier. Let’s control the narrative.” 

He could hear her shifting around as if she were sitting up at his words. “Ok, I’m intrigued. Raven? You gonna ask her what she thinks?” 

He shook his head. “Nah. If we do it right, she never needs to know.”

***

It was after midnight by the time Michael arrived back home. However, he and Alex had worked out a foolproof plan during the drive. A plan they felt would allow Michael to take the biggest hit while Raven’s name would be a mere footnote by any reporter who doesn’t want to be accused of misogyny. It did all hinge on Tasha dragging out her games for longer than a week. But Michael had a feeling she would. She clearly enjoyed watching him squirm. They’d get past the Golden Globes and then he would seek help from someone whose only motivation in this world was money, someone who - for the right price - would do exactly what he asked.  

He said a quick goodnight to Allen before running up the stairs to his master bedroom. He was surprised to find Raven curled up on his side of the bed, her face buried in his pillow. Her preferred sleeping position was literally on top of him and he knew, when he wasn’t home, this was the best she could get. 

He laughed lightly at her kindle which was half hanging out of her hand, the young woman clearly having fallen asleep reading. She had not even put her scarf on the giant pineapple of curls on her head or taken off her reading glasses, which told him she had tried her hardest to stay awake till he got home. He watched her, like a creep admittedly, for several minutes before he moved. 

He had never felt love like this a day in his life. He had always accepted that he would never find it, never find someone who could and would love him unconditionally. But she did, she loved him even though he was not sure he deserved it. And everytime she looked at him, touched him, curled into his side to sleep, he felt the depths of it in his very being. Their love was pure and he refused to let anyone taint it. 

He moved as quietly as possible to the bed and took the kindle out of her hand and slid her glasses off. Thankfully, she slept like a rock. However, she only stirred as he tried to gently tie her scarf around her edges to protect her hair. She stretched and let out a deep but insanely cute yawn as she blinked a few times. 

“H-Hey babe. S-sorry, I tried to wait for you.” 

Michael leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t mean to wake you. Just knew you’d be pissed if you woke up with no scarf on.” 

She chuckled. “You’re right about that. H-How was your dinner meeting?” 

“Fine,” he waved his hand dismissively. He hated that he had lied to her but it was the only excuse he could think of that did not bring more questions. Raven was generally inquisitive but she tended to understand the often secret nature of some roles and Hollywood meetings so she did not often pry for information he did not offer up. “Might have a role for me but shit is still in flux. We’ll probably need to meet again to iron out some details.” 

She nodded as she forced herself into a seated position. “I’ll never understand you Hollywood types. Who wants to have a dinner meeting at 10 pm?” 

“Logistics are easier for later dinners. It’s a whole thing.” He rolled his shoulders a bit, the tension of the day making his entire body ache. 

“You ok? You seem so tense, baby.” 

He studied her for a moment, taking in the genuine care on her face. So few people looked at him like that, like a human with needs and feelings. They just saw him as a product to sell or an ATM to get their needs met. But not Raven, never Raven. Even when he was quite literally paying her to be there. She saw him for him. And in that moment, he realized how close he was to losing that, how at risk this precious peace they both had found was. And that terrified him. Losing her terrified him. And he knew that whatever path he chose, that was the risk. And that filled him with such an overwhelming sense of dread. 

He rarely felt overwhelmed by his own feelings. But right then, he felt like he could not even think straight enough to answer that simple question. And he knew that simple question was his out, his chance to tell her the truth about what tension he was feeling and why.  

So instead of speaking, he used his impeccable strength to pull her into his lap. Her fingers played in the coarse hair of his beard as he stared at her, concern filling her eyes as she took in the solemn and stressed look in his.  

“Hey… baby… what’s wrong?” 

“N-Nothin’. Nothin’,” he lied, his courage deflating like a popped balloon. As soon as the words left his mouth, his lips crashed into hers, stealing her breath right out of her mouth. He could not talk, could not have a conversation. He just needed to feel her, all of her. 

He could not bring himself to do it, to ask her for her permission to do what he knew had to be done. All roads led to the same destination and this was the only one he could see that left them with the least amount of bruises. He did not have the heart to tell her that the only path forward for them was to destroy her reputation now or have Tasha do it later. He did not have the heart to tell her he failed her, that he could not protect her from this. 

Raven could feel everything in that kiss, his own stress and tension and pain. She wondered if more had gone on tonight at his meeting than he was willing to let on. Typically, Michael was the emotional rock, holding her up and giving her space to fall apart. But tonight, she was reminded that sometimes the strong ones need that too. 

She broke off their kiss to catch her breath before whispering, “Take what you need.” 

Michael rested his forehead against hers. “You sure?” 

“Consider me your stress ball,” she joked with a half smile. “Do your worst. I trust you.”

Trust you don’t deserve, a cold voice inside hurled at him. 

Michael said nothing as he flipped Raven over onto her stomach. There was no love or sweetness in the way he handled her as he arranged her lethargic limbs in the position he desired, ass high and face pressed into his comforter. He did not give her any warning as he sheathed himself inside her with one thrust, Raven squealing at the sudden and rough intrusion. 

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her. She did not understand how his size and girth still managed to leave her breathless. 

“You always this wet for me, baby?” 

“Y-Yes,” she whimpered as he gave her a brief moment to adjust to him. 

“Yes what?” he demanded with a sharp and painful slap against her plump ass. “Yes daddy,” she amended quickly. She could already tell she would be bruised and sore by the time he was done with her. But she could not hope to care. Whatever he needed, she would gladly give. 

They rarely did quickies, Michael enjoyed the warm up far too much to skip it. But tonight, he needed the adrenaline of rough, uninhibited fucking. He needed to hear her screams, the slaps of his hips against her ass. Needed to feel the soft skin of her hips beneath his hand as he rammed into her. He needed to let go of the stress of the last 48 hours with the woman he loved, let go of the feelings of objective failure he felt. He needed to get lost in her. 

Raven was in pure bliss as Michael fucked her at a pace and intensity she had rarely seen from him. She could not even keep up with him to match his thrusts into her. All she could do was lay there and scream out as he took her. 

“Shit, shit. J-just like that,” she moaned as his hands dug into her skin. Her fingers curled around the softness of his comforter as she used it to muffle the screams of her orgasm.  

“Fuck, this pussy feels so good gripping my dick, baby. That’s right, cum for daddy.” 

Her body instinctively shied away from the overwhelming feelings of pleasure and pain he provided, causing his grip to only grow tighter so she could not escape him, as if she would disappear right before his eyes if he loosened his grip on her at all. 

“The fuck you runnin’ for?? You said do my worst right? So take this dick!” His voice was commanding as he spanked her, the sound reverberating around his bedroom. 

“I-It’s too m-much,” she moaned out as she felt another orgasm start to build. 

“You can take it. I know you can. Be a good girl for me.” 

Hearing the words “good girl” on his lips were almost enough to make her orgasm right then on the spot. 

Her upper body collapsed as another orgasm hit her like a train of endless ecstasy. Only Michael’s brute strength held her up as he chased his own release. Her body felt like putty in his hands, completely pliant and under his control. 

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?” he demanded. 

Raven felt as if he was fucking her into another dimension, was she even on Earth anymore? She could barely form thoughts let alone words to answer his questions. And as the silence stretched on and only her moans and squeals punctuated the sound of his thrusts, Michael knew she needed an incentive to remember the rules. 

He wrapped his fist in her hair, which had unceremoniously fallen out of her scarf and pulled her up so her back was flush against his body. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed lightly, loving how Raven’s eyes rolled back into her head and a long moan escaped her. He noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks and almost wondered if he was pushing her too far. 

“Need me to stop?” he asked quietly, not slowing down his pace or movement as he asked. 

Despite how overwhelmed and exhausted she felt, Raven could not comprehend the idea of him stopping. She had offered him this and she wanted it too. “D-don’t stop… p-please don’t stop.” 

“Ok then. When daddy asks you somethin’, you fuckin’ answer!” 

He let her body fall forward before he started spanking her with every ounce of strength he had. The pain radiated through her entire body but it was a delicious hurt, one she wished she could have all the time. Michael’s spankings were one of her favorite parts of their sex life. But now she knew that he was holding back some of his strength on her account. And she did not want that ever again. If this was him totally uninhibited and unrestrained, she would be his stress ball every day of the week.

She shook her head as tears slowly trekked down her face. “I-I c-can’t…” 

Whether that was to convey that she could not speak or couldn’t come again, Michael did not know nor did not care. Until he heard a safeword cross her lips, he would drain them both of everything they collectively had. 

“Yea, you can. Cause daddy demands it.” 

His fingers found their way to her clit and roughly circled it, Raven’s entire body tensing as she reached her peak for the third time. He thanked the good lord he had had the forethought to soundproof his bedroom when he built this house years ago. That way he nor his parents had to be scarred for life. But even he wondered if her screams of pleasure would test the limits of that particular design feature. 

However, they were the perfect symphony that pushed him right over the edge. He increased his pace, as if that were possible, hammering into her before he pressed her hips tightly against his form as he came inside her with a loud moan of his own. He collapsed next to her prone form for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. 

He ran his hand through her hair, the young woman letting out a soft, appreciative whimper that acknowledged his touch and gentleness but let him know she was utterly spent.

He pushed himself out of bed and started a bath, adding some epsom salt to the water in hopes that would soothe whatever aches he caused. He returned to his bed and rubbed her back to get her attention. 

“Bath,” he whispered, before he scooped her up into his arms as if she were a small child. He carried her into the bathroom and quickly redid her hair and scarf before settling her into the tub.

A moan slipped past her lips as the hot water surrounded her limbs. Michael positioned himself behind her, his arm pressed into her breasts to keep her flush to his chest.  

“Was I too rough?” 

Her heart warmed at the question. She would not have offered her body to him if she had not wanted rough but she appreciated that he still cared enough about her to check in, during and after. 

“No, I love it when you get lost in it. But you’re sure you’re ok?” 

“Yea… think the stress of the awards and the press tour next month are just getting to me. I’m good, babe.” A cop out but it was all he could offer. 

Though it was difficult to get her limbs to move properly, she shifted so she could turn around and look at him. She chewed on her lip for a moment before saying, “You’d tell me if… something was wrong, right? Like you’re always there for me and my problems, listening and fixing. A-and well… I know I can’t like fix whatever it is or anything or probably even understand it. But I hope you know you can trust me with stuff. I just d-don’t want you to think you can’t… if you ever need to o-or - ” 

Michael leaned forward and captured her lips, silencing the sweet ramblings his girl was known for. 

“Yea I know, baby.”

He felt her entire body sort of deflate with relief before she settled back against his chest. 

“Good. I’m glad.” 

They sat in silence as Michael’s hands slowly and methodically massaged her body, starting at her shoulders and working their way down at a deliciously slow but tantalizing pace. He took his time, kneading each of her muscles until the ache she felt subsided. His hands were massaging her thighs, which was doing more to work her up than calm her down, when Michael 

“Be my date on Sunday.” He kissed her on the neck. 

“Sunday? What’s on Sunday?” she asked, not even opening her eyes as she enjoyed the work of the Lord Almighty he was doing on her thighs. 

“The Globes.” 

Raven immediately pushed off of his chest in shock. An award show? Those glittery and glamorous programs she had watched as a kid? 

What’s my fucking life right now?? She asked herself as it hit her, for the first time, that things like this would be a regular occurrence now that she and Michael were serious. This was the big leagues and she was going to be standing right beside him. 

“The Globes… as in THE Golden Globes?? You’re kidding right?” 

He laughed at the look of utter shock on her face. “Yes, those Globes. And nah, why would I joke about that shit? I want the sexiest woman in the world on my arm when I win.” 

Michael did not want to be ruled by fear of when Tasha would lob her grenade at them, if she even had the chance. They deserved to just have a fun and extravagant night out together. This would be the biggest night of his career and if their names were going to be thrown into a scandal either way, he could at least enjoy a night out with Raven before it does. 

Raven shook her head, though her heart and childish brain screamed at her for doing so. Why was she pushing back? Every fiber of her being just wanted her to yell “YES, YES, YES!” 

“B-But what about your parents?? Maybe you should take one of them o-or your siblings? I mean I’d love to go. Like seriously THE Golden Globes with like every entertainer I adore and love? But this is such a big moment in your career. Don’t you want to spend it with… I dunno, the people who’ve been there for the ride? I just got here,” she chuckled. “Don’t ask me out of some obligation. If there’s someone else you’d prefer, I won’t be offended. I didn’t expect an invite to all these anyway, you know? Figured you take family or your friends or someone more important to you… What if you look back and regret not taking one of them? You should -” 

“Babe!” he cut her off, his palm cradling her cheek to keep her gaze on him.. “You said all that in one breath. Breathe for me, baby girl.” Raven appreciated that he could always see when she was spiraling and stop it. She forced air into her lungs before nodding for him to speak. “My family’s been to hella award shows, they’ve seen as many of them as a single person could ever want to. But even if they hadn’t, you’re the most important person to me right now. So I want to look out if I win and see you there. You are the most important person in my life.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t, promise.” 

“Then yes. I’d love to.” She turned fully and straddled his hips, kissing him deeply. Her hips instinctively grinded against him, a smile gracing her features as she felt his cock start to grow hard beneath him. She did not care that he fucked her into near oblivion a mere 10 minutes ago. Just him offering to take her to the biggest award show of his career to date filled her with such joy and happiness. And now, she had no interest in going to sleep. Now? She just needed more. More of him and his love, attention, and care. 

“Not too sore, baby girl?” he asked as he pulled one of her nipples in between his lips and sucked gently before biting the swell of her breast, Raven’s head falling back with a small cry. 

“Never… I need you,” she whispered in his ear as she sucked on the soft skin of his neck. “Please.” 

“Get up here and ride daddy’s dick.” 

Raven did not need to be told twice as she positioned herself over him and slid down. 

“Enjoy it cause then it’s my turn again.” He winked at her with the most wicked glint in his eyes that let Raven know she would not sleep for hours. 

***

“So how does it feel? Mr. Golden Globe winner??” Raven asked for the 100th time as she and Michael walked back into the condo. The condo was really only used now when they were at events super late. And staying out until 3 am meant neither of them were all too interested in making the trek back to his home. 

Michael chuckled, “The same way it felt 10 minutes ago, Rae.” 

She gave herself a playful facepalm. “I’m sorry, I’m being annoying. I’m just so excited for you! I mean tonight was amazing and magical and you were amazing and everyone was literally singing your praises. And I’m just…” she turned and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “I’m really proud of you. No one deserves this moment more.” 

“Thank you. It was even better with you by my side.” 

Raven let out a childlike squeal as Michael picked her up in his arms, her after party dress bunched up in his hands. However, before she could tell him to be careful of the fabric, he merely smirked. “It’ll be on the floor in a minute. Don’t worry bout that shit.” 

She merely rolled her eyes as he playfully tossed her onto his bed and launched himself on top of her. She let out a loud oof as his weight pushed her deeper into the bed and laughed. 

She moaned as he kissed her before she had to stop him for a brief moment. As much as she loved being glammed up by his team, she could not deny that the full glam and fake lashes they put on her were not as comfortable almost 10 hours later. 

“Let me hang up the dress and wash my face before you ravish me? These lashes are killing me and it’s gonna take me a few minutes to peel these spanx off.” 

He seemed wholly uninterested in letting her do any of those things until the phone in his pants started to ring. He knew only one person who dared to call him this late. The disgruntled huff he pushed out made her cackle but he rolled off of her, allowing her to get up. 

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But only cause Alex would only call this late if it was important.” 

As he answered the phone, she disappeared into the guest room where all of her clothes were stored. She made quick work of stripping down to her panties and ensuring her dress was stowed properly in its garment bag. It had been a delicate yet gorgeous gown and she had not trusted Michael not to accidentally destroy it in his quest to get it off her. She knew he could afford to pay for it but she did not even want to know how much a Valentino dress would set him back.  

She joyfully ripped the fake lashes on her eyes off before washing her face several times to get off all the makeup she had on. She looked stunning, as she always did when his glam team got a hold of her. But she also would rather do this tedious task now than in a few hours when Michael was done with her. 

She thought about slipping into some lingerie as she pulled off her nipple covers. But she figured it would take more time than necessary to put any of it on and Michael would likely just rip it off her within seconds. So she made her way back to his room nearly naked with just her thong on. 

However, when she returned, Michael’s mood was far more subdued than when she left. She raised an eyebrow as she straddled his hips, his hands barely touching her hips, a departure from his usual grip on her. 

“Everything ok?” 

“That was Alex. We… got a problem.” 

“Ok?” 

He rubbed her lower back as he spoke as if that would calm her for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “She got a call from TMZ that they have a source… that told them about us. How we met and… that we lied to everyone about it. And they are gonna run it sometime tomorrow.” 

Raven scratched her forehead, the joy she felt moments ago dissipating almost immediately. 

This can’t be happening… 

 “W-what?? B-But… N-No, no. She’s… I-is she sure?” 

“Baby, calm down. It’s gonna be ok. Apparently, the angle he took was favorable to you? It doesn’t shame you or anything. It’s just honest about the circumstances of how we met.” 

Raven felt as if her whole world had just come falling down around her as she leapt off his lap. “It’s favorable to me?? That’s a super small comfort w-when you just told me that the entire world is about to find out I was a prostitute, Michael! C-Cause no one’s gonna care that you were date number like 3 in a series of failed dates o-or that you were the first guy to even pay me for sex. They’re just gonna care that I did it. This reporter doesn’t need to shame me when the whole fucking world will.” She paced up and down beside his bed as she tried to will her panic to subside. “I-Is there anyway to stop it?? W-why is this even happening?? I mean it’s been months. Who would even care enough to c-come out and say something now??” 

Michael stood and grabbed her by the arm, he pulled her into his embrace but he knew it would do little to soothe her. “It could’ve been anyone? Employee at the hotel, someone who works for Helen. Alex is trying to find out who and more about the story so we can figure out what to do. And this person probably realized that now, with award season and Creed, would be the most profitable time to release shit about me. I’m sorry, Rae. I should’ve seen this comin’. It’s my fault.” 

The clear guilt in his voice cut through the haze of panic she felt and caused her to stop thinking about herself for a moment. 

Fuck, how selfish are you? A story like this could potentially ruin his career and all she could think about was how it affected her. Michael could lose work and deals and prestige because of a story like this. What did she have to lose? A family that already hated her and she had  cut off? A reputation that, at least in the industry she was once in, was already tarnished? 

“No, d-don’t apologize. I'm sorry. I’m over here freaking out and you’re the one with an actual career to lose. I just… I guess when it didn’t come out initially, I assumed it wouldn’t? A-and I just… freaked out. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make it all about me.” 

“It’s cool. And ok to be upset. I’m used to shit like this… you aren’t. Good thing is, shit like this stays in the news for a few days and then it passes. Alex and I’ll work on a plan tomorrow once it’s out and fix this shit. I promise.” 

All Raven could make herself do was nod as she let her forehead fall onto his bare chest, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting her. Even with Michael, there was always something. There was no true peace in her life, or least, none that lasted long enough for her to enjoy it. 

An uncomfortable tightness grew in her chest as she realized what was barreling toward them both. And for the first time in a long time, Michael’s arms did not bring her the comfort she needed. In fact, they only added to her stress. She wanted to be with him but she also knew that her presence would be a distraction. He had to figure out the best response for his career without feeling the need to cater to her emotions and she wanted to break down and cry and scream without being worried he would feel guilty. 

Which meant she could not be there with him when this story broke. She needed space and alone time to process this. 

“Do you think Allen could take me home?” she whispered. “I n-need to be alone.” 

“Rae, stay. We should talk about this.” 

She could see the panic bloom in his eyes and it made her adjust her statement. “I’m not m-mad at you, baby.  You don’t have control over who talks to the media and when. I know you would stop it if you could. I just… knowing it’s coming out is a lot to process and I need to do that alone in my own space. And you need to be focused on your career, not me and my feelings. I’ll check in with you tomorrow but I d-don’t want to talk tonight. I just want to be alone.” 

Michael pressed his lips to her forehead before walking over to his dresser and pulling out a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt that she had stored there. He helped her get dressed before calling Allen to come back to take her home. He knew she was not upset with him but he could not help but feel disheartened at how she retreated into herself. He could see all the emotions she felt painted on her face and that made him want to demand she stay so he could help her through it. 

But he knew that was not fair. If she said she needed space, he had to respect that. The reason she was feeling this way was his fault anyway.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be ok? I can come with you?” He tried one last time when Allen texted that he was downstairs. 

“Positive. Just need a couple hours to myself to get my head around everything. I’ll come to the house tomorrow evening after it's out and we can talk. Just give me a few hours, please.” 

He nodded, silently acquiescing to her wishes, despite every piece of him wanting to protest. 

Raven offered him a peck on the lips before heading down in the elevator, desperate to scream or yell or throw something across the room. She supposed she always knew there was a chance it could come out. After all, there were a handful of people that knew the truth. But she had just lulled herself into believing it wouldn’t, that their peace would be safe. 

Her head felt like it was spinning when she finally laid down an hour later in her own bed. She had only taken the time to switch into one of Michael’s sweatshirts that she had commandeered from his house so she could curl up in his scent. She wrapped herself tightly in her blanket and let out a shuddering and shaky breath. 

He’s gonna leave you. A voice finally said the fear that gripped her since he told her the news. She had not wanted to admit it but she knew it was coming. He was going to leave her. 

How could he possibly stay? Why would he want to stay? His entire team would demand he cut ties with her. There was no other option. She knew it and he likely knew it too. His safest bet was likely to paint her as a woman who manipulated him or a gold digger after his money. She spent enough time on social media to know what the media and everyday people would say about her. They’d call her a slut and a whore, never mind that she was only doing what she had to do to survive. That would not matter to them. And then the dogpilling would begin. Some internet detective would find out she was also a stripper and this would give her sister the perfect chance to shame her like she always wanted to. 

‘There are always other options than selling yourself’ they’d say. They’d question his manhood for even wanting to be with her in the first place. And it would not matter that prostitution was the oldest profession in civilization or that Michael was her first real customer. Her doing it with him would be enough for them to brand her with every terrible name women avoid being labeled. 

She hastily wiped away the few tears that fell as she stared at her ceiling. These would be her last few moments of peace in her life and she realized that tonight was likely her last night with Michael. She felt her heart break at the idea. However, she would walk away, she realized. If that was what it took to save him and his career and this moment in his life, she would walk away from him. It would cut her deeper than any wound but she would do it for him if he asked. 

And now, every second felt like a countdown to that moment. When she would arrive at his house tomorrow afternoon and be greeted with the cold slap of rejection. She would just have to prepare herself. 

She reached into her nightstand and pulled out a bottle of old sleeping pills she used to use when she first lost her writing contract. She had struggled so much that her doctor prescribed them. It had been almost a year since she needed them but tonight was an exception. She just wanted to fall into the deep, dreamless sleep they provided so she would not have to sit awake and think about how everything in this world was designed to destroy her. She popped one in her mouth and snuggled up with her pillow while her tears fell, the protective blanket of sleep covering her within minutes. 

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r

***

A/N: Welp... Michael's keeping secrets, Tasha is smarter (kinda, maybe?) than Michael thought and poor Raven's completely in the dark. Drop a comment and let me know who you think this "source" is and how you think these two are going to react to the article! And so exciting - chapter 9 is like 1/3 done lol so it'll be out in the next two weeks. Would be sooner but I'm on vacation next week. Thanks for reading, commenting, liking... all the things! :)

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[a-little-buggy]

"Amore mio, we cannot keep doing this." Ezio paced across the wooden floor, running his hand through his hair. It was entirely dark out, and the room was lit by a single candle on the table. "You were gone two full days! I practically turned this city upside-down looking for you!"

"How was I supposed to know I was still seeing things!? I genuinely thought it would wear off before now!" Desmond was sitting in a common room chair; the dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by his washed out complexion. He had just come from a bath, otherwise he would still be coated in sweat and hay. "I thought after a few weeks everything would just go back to normal! Well. . ." Desmond gestured around at the Renaissance assassin's guild hall. "Normal being relative, and all."

Ezio pulled a chair over by Desmond and sat down, picking at the stray straws of hay still glued to Desmond's skin. "I know that you are just trying to keep active, but please. If I get another report of you passing out in an alley, or landing in the river, I swear to Christo I will go gray." He stopped and cupped his hands around Desmond's face. "Don't do this to me, Desmond. I'm too young for gray hair."

"Oh don't worry, it'll be just as popular with the chicks as ever." Desmond gave a *swish* of his imaginary long locks, but the motion made his head spin. He braced his arms against the table. "Though I personally have less interest in the grandpa-type."

"Molto bene, that means you should have a personal investment in not causing me any more stress!"

"You think it's stressful for you? You're not the one running an imaginary Boston Marathon every other weekday!" Desmond scoffed, and laid his head down on the table in such a way as to still be able to give Ezio the stink eye.

"You know that isn't how I meant it. I just wish I could convince you to stay safe." Ezio rocked his chair back, and set his heels on the corner of the table. "At the very least, until we have some kind of answer as to when these episodes occur, or why."

Desmond gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "What if we never get any such answer? What little I know about bleeds is that I originally got them from using the Animus. Except now, I've somehow traveled back through time, so who even knows what kind of effects that could cause."

Ezio pressed a finger to his forehead. "Wait a moment. What is the Animus?"

"Seriously? It's the device that showed me your memories. We talked about this a few days ago."

Ezio removed his feet from the table and sat upright, eyeing Desmond suspiciously. "And when was this again, exactly?"

"Why? I. . . I guess it was four days ago, now, so Thursday? I remember it was raining."

Ezio bit his lip and grimaced, then giving a deep exhale placed a gentle hand on Desmond's leg. "I had a contract in Forlì that day."

"No, no. You're kidding." Desmond pushed off of the table and sank down into the wooden chair, as if it could absorb the impact of this new revelation for him. Ezio couldn't have imagined Desmond getting any paler, but he had. "No. No no no no no Ezio I -"

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright, I just need you to breathe." Desmond was badly shaken by this point, and his legs had given out, leaving him sinking to the floor. Ezio grabbed hold of his shoulders, trying to ease his downward descent.

Desmond's voice cracked. "No, no, it's not alright!" He grabbed Ezio back, desperate for some kind of tether. "How can you stand there and tell me it's alright, just after telling me that you may not even be here!?!?"

"I am here, though. I'm here." Ezio wrapped his arms tightly around Desmond, holding him as close as he possibly could. What else could he do? "Just try to breathe."

And so the two sat there, as the candle burned down to a stump. Slowly, Desmond's shaking turned to shuddered breathing, which turned to deep breaths.

Ezio rubbed Desmond's shoulders. "It may not be much longer until daybreak. Do you think you are ready to try for some sleep?"

Desmond slumped forward, burying his face in Ezio's chest. "Honestly? I think I'm too exhausted to make it to bed. Here seems fine."

Ezio chuckled. "For you, perhaps, but I am a creature of comfort." With one of his arms still wrapped around Desmond's back, he slid the other one under Desmond's knees and stood up, carrying him off towards the bunks.

Desmond wrapped his arms around Ezio's neck. "My hero," he sleepily crooned.

"Don't sing my praises just yet, amò." Ezio shifted Desmond's weight, fumbling to turn the doorknob. "I may expect you to return the favor one day."

"What?!" Desmond gasped, playing up the dramatics. " 's not fair, you're much bigger than I am!"

"Is that meant as a compliment or an insult?"

"I dunno yet." Desmond yawned. "I'll decide later, when I need one or the other."

Soon enough, they both had clambered into bed, and were able to get some much needed sleep.

-----

Desmond spent the next few days occupying himself in the base. Besides helping sort through the dispatching of contracts, he got caught them caught up on some long overdue weapons orders and offered advice to whatever young assasin might come knocking. This was his favorite task. It was a reminder of a simpler time, of when he could stand behind a bar and just chat with people about whatever was ailing them. Except this was a little more murder-y. But having been a bartender in New York, it was not so much more murder-y as one might think.

But all the same, he was beginning to feel cooped up. And so he went to seek audience with the Mentorè, about perhaps being allowed on a group mission of some form.

There were two novices already in Ezio's office, a boy and a girl. They were likely discussing the details of an upcoming contract. Having already opened the door, Desmond knocked on the doorframe. Ezio waved him in.

"What can I do for you, Desmond?" Ezio propped his elbows up on the desk and clasped his hands, resting his chin on top of them.

"Oh, it can wait. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Desmond glanced over at the novices, who in fairness, seemed unperturbed.

"So can this. Please, continue." Ezio leaned back in the chair, and the two young assassins stepped to the side.

Desmond cleared his throat. "With your permission, Mentorè," On this word he did a slight bow. Ezio rolled his eyes. "I would wish to be sent on a mission. As part of a group, of course," He hastened to add. "It's just. . . I don't do well feeling confined. And I'm about ready to go stir-crazy in here."

One of the novices smirked. "Is that different from the regular crazy somehow?" He asked. Desmond gave a dry, mocking laugh in response, but then turned back to Ezio and. . . Oh shit.

Desmond always knew that Ezio Auditore da Firenze was a dangerous man. He knew of all his great conquests, and had seen the fear in the eyes of his enemies. And yet somehow, to see the master assassin here and brimming with fury, it felt like the first time he really understood how terrifying such a man could be.

The other novice slapped the first upside the head, and then grabbed him by the wrist. "Thank you for the advice, Mentorè. We will send word as soon as we complete our task," She said, dragging him out the door, which closed firmly behind them.

Ezio took a deep breath, and settled back into his seat.

Desmond shuffled his feet. "Hey, so umm, you wouldn't have actually murdered that kid, right?"

"Fortunately, we will not have to find out." Ezio shot what he assumed was a comforting smile up at Desmond (it wasn't) and then rifled through some papers on his desk. "I actually have a mission that should suit you just fine. It should be straightforward, a matter of some scouting and interrogating a handful of people. There will be two others with you, and you will cover a fair bit of ground. Benè?" Ezio handed over a map with a few directions and way points marked on it.

Desmond nodded. "Yeah, benè. Thank you, Ezio."

"You're welcome. You leave in an hour. And Desmond," He continued, once Desmond had turned to leave. "I know you are highly skilled, but do still be careful."

"I will." Desmond walked back over to Ezio, then kissed him on the cheek and winked. "I promise."

Ezio kicked his boots up on the desk. "Oh, you are such a flirt."

"Well, I come by it honestly." And with that, Desmond left to make preparations.

-----

Desmond was sitting atop a window dormer, watching the surrounding area as another assassin prepared to 'talk to' a gang member in the alleyway below. A third assassin was perched on another neighboring rooftop, similarly spying for any potential complications. This was the method they had all decided on, and it had been working quite well. One person would go to meet the target, and the other two would remain above: out of sight so as to not cause any alarm, but close enough to drop into the fray should anything go awry. This was the last one on their list, and then they could all go back and herald their mission as a success.

He scanned the skyline. Besides the other assassin (whose name he had learned was Achille), there was no one visible up here. He peered down into the street. Piera (visible in blue) had just cornered in on the gang member (visible in gold). One or two of their targets had been willing to part with their information before it came to blows, but such instances were few and far between. Piera gave a quick display of her hidden blade, just to make her intentions and alliances clear.

As was typical, the conversation started with an exchange of thinly-veiled threats. "Next will come the unveiled threats, and then the diet violence," Desmond mused to himself.

The target started shouting. Desmond thought he heard another voice. He scanned the rooftops again, and this time saw a pair of guards off in the distance behind him. He looked back at Achille, who did not seem to react. "This again," Desmond muttered under his breath. He shifted to the right, and the guards were gone from his line of sight. "Please let that fix it." He turned back to watching the alley.

"You belong down in the street with the rest of the filth!" The voice was still distant, but it was definitely louder this time.

Desmond sighed. He turned to look behind himself, and saw the two guards from before making their way over, and a third guard climbing up behind them. "Just ignore them, and they'll go away," He said to himself. He turned back to the alleyway.

"Get down off this roof, or I will throw you off myself!"

Desmond scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. I think I'm finished throwing myself off of rooftops because of figments of my twisted imagination."

He heard another shout. This one wasn't from the target, or the illusory guard, but from Achille. "Desmond, look out!"

Desmond spun around, but not quickly enough, because a boot impacted him squarely in the chest, and he fell from the roof.

He desperately reached out, trying to grab hold of something to hang from. His right hand caught the wooden paneling of the window he was sitting above, but the wooden beam was brittle and snapped off, splintering under his fingernails. He yelled, and was unable to grab hold anywhere else.

Desmond's ankle rolled as he hit the ground, and he fell prone. The guard peered from the rooftop above, and apparently for the first time put together the implications of there being three hooded figures together. "Assassinos! Get them!" Well, so much for subtlety.

Piera ran over to help Desmond to his feet, and the gang member bolted. Desmond shook his head, and pulled himself up. "Don't worry about me, I can handle a few guards. Don't let the target get away!" He turned to face the building he had fallen from. The guards were already descending. He shifted his weight, and winced. Running's not an option. He readied his blade.

Desmond lunged at the first guard to get his boots on the ground. He hadn't yet pulled his sword, so Desmond easily grabbed hold of him, sliding the hidden blade between his ribs. Unfortunately, the next two landed with their swords already drawn, and Desmond could hear more footsteps fast approaching. "Shit, how many of you are there?"

He heard a shriek from above, and looked up just in time to dodge a guard falling from the rooftop, an arrow lodged in his chest. He landed with a dull, wet thud. Desmond spared a glance up towards Achille, who was already nocking another arrow. "Oh, this should be a peace of cake, then."

Desmond crossed blades with the two guards closest to him, parrying and deflecting their attacks. One of them leaped forward with an arcing swing of their sword. Desmond dodged under and to the side of the swing, then came around behind the off-balance guard, slitting his throat.

Another shriek, another thud. Desmond easily dispatched his next opponent, sweeping him off his feet and then skewering him where he fell. But the next guards approached together, and Desmond had to shift his focus to defense again.

Shriek, thud. One of the guards tried to bring his sword down on Desmond's head, who used both blades to intersect it. In the sword's reflection, Desmond saw another guard coming from behind him. "I've got you now, assassino!" Desmond shoved his current attacker off and spun around, swinging his blade in a wide arc. But as soon as his blade hit the guard's chest, he disappeared into mid-air.

Desmond growled. "Are yOU KIDDING ME!?!?!"

Shriek, thud.

A low chuckle from one of the guardsmen. "Jumping at shadows, boy? Ready for someone to put you out of your misery?" Desmond turned on his heel and lunged for the unlucky dastard's face, plunging both of the hidden blades deep into his eyesockets.

What few guards remained turned tail and ran.

Shriek, thud. Desmond turned once again to Achille, who was now clambering down the building, bow in hand. "They were already running, y'know."

Achille landed on the street, and shrugged. "They picked the fight. The least they could do is have the decency to see it through."

Desmond chuckled, then rubbed his shoulder. "Well, whether Piera caught the target or not, by now, she'll be heading back to base. We should be, too." He looked down at his swelling ankle. "No crazy parkour shit though."

-----

Ezio was pacing back and forth across the wooden floor, combing his hand through his hair. Piera had gotten back with her report on the mission two hours ago. He had already sent ten otherwise idle assassins out searching for Desmond, and he was deliberating about sending more.

"He has returned!" Came a voice from the door.

Ezio raced to the door. His stomach lurched when he saw Desmond, covered in blood and limping, except. . . He was also smiling? There he was, covered head-to-toe in blood, and grinning ear-to-ear!

"Desmond? Are you. . ." He looked Desmond up and down. Bloody. Beaming. "Did you hit your head?"

"Ezio!" Desmond threw his arms up wide, flinging blood on the assassins unfortunate enough to be standing near him. "No, I'm just fine! Well, I wrecked my ankle, but not nearly so much as I wrecked all of the guards!"

Ezio laughed. "So, you determined that what you needed was catharsis, and that any guard would suffice?"

"Well no, actually," Desmond responded a bit sheepishly. "I let them get the drop on me, believing they weren't real."

Ezio very abruptly stopped laughing. "You WHAT -"

"Can we discuss it later? I know it's a problem, but I'm currently riding a high, and I would like to enjoy it."

Ezio started to object, but instead wrapped an arm over Desmond's shoulders. "Later then." He lifted his arm, and stared in horror at the gloopy mess now dripping from it. "Dio mio, someone needs to give you a bath."

Desmond smirked. "Are you volunteering?"

-----

I don't ever think of myself as a creative person, so I am ABSOLUTELY blaming @sulfies that I have done this again, lol. I hope you enjoyed though! Much less bleed effect whump this time around, and much less re-reading to check that it makes sense, lol. Hyperfixation + insomnia = I wrote another story, but now it's a quarter to six in the morning and I may low-key hate myself tomorrow (today?). Thanks for reading!

#assassin's creed #fanfic #heavy bleed effect au #cw blood #ezio auditore #desmond miles #I also didn't sleep at all last night so whoops #death by insomnia any% speedrun #but i got to write another story! so it was worth it! #the words just kept wording! and thats still very new to me! #should that all have been one story? idk! idc! (i mean of course i care but you get the gist)

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

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You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush. 

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level. 

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders. 

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet. 

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult. 

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given. 

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night. 

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry. 

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all. 

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes. 

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone. 

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man. 

Why did they send you on this mission alone? 

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow. 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why? 

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction? 

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books. 

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted. 

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster. 

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night. 

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go? 

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing. 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble. 

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely. 

Into the belly of the best it is. 

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though. 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep. 

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally. 

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies. 

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another. 

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess. 

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome. 

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door. 

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon. 

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all. 

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you. 

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill. 

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised. 

“Step inside.” 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction. 

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy. 

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing. 

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest. 

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’. 

“What’s new?” 

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.” 

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him. 

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship? 

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.” 

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come. 

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory. 

Maybe you really have been misled. 

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it. 

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes. 

“Alright…”

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding. 

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself. 

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one. 

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good. 

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again. 

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands. 

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart. 

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame. 

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side. 

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body. 

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you. 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now. 

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered. 

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth. 

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his. 

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment. 

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty. 

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible. 

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride. 

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls. 

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements. 

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths. 

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again. 

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside. 

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again. 

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[sulfies]

Mermay Fic pt1

Ezio always felt bad about the small number of humble gondoliers he sent into the canale for a swim, he really did. He did try to apologize the first couple of times but honestly, he just did not have the time for it anymore. He usually did just toss them coins if anybody did walk up to him all angry the next day at the square.

And it truly was not that big of a deal, It's just water… 

“Oh did you hear-”

Ezio picked up his freshly repaired boots from the apprentice of the cobbler when trained ears picked up on the two ladies gossiping about the latest in Venice.

“No wait he did not! The assassin?!”

Who? Did what? What did he get up to this time? Ezio nodded at the shop as he slowly walked closer getting into the earshot more to get the full story on his new supposed doings…

“Yes Yes! Elena saw it too! He was docked as he always is around those times, you know that man likes a schedule” The other woman nodded agreeing and Ezio held a sigh.

Stalling aren't we… get to the juicy bits woman. His foot tapped on the stone ground

“and suddenly the brute jumps down on him and throws him into the canale, doesn't even yell sorry or look back, just takes off with the gondola!”

The other woman did an offended gasp as Ezio finally also clocked what they were talking about

“And I normally like the assassin guy too! So I was shocked ofcourse, everyone was-”

He tilted his head remembering yesterday's run-ins, Yes maybe he did throw another one into the Canales torrents as he was on a chase but what was the big deal this time, if he got legs he can swim, it's not like the gondolier was-

“I mean what kind of a sane man throws a paralyzed man into the water and steals his boat!”

Oh…

The gondolier was Paralyzed...

Nothing is True everything is allowed so might as well toss a disabled towner into the water Ezio!

“Well was he all right? Is he injured?” 

Yes was he? Ezio wanted to rush out to the woman and shake her asking if his victim was okay, what was his address and would he accept a sorry in payments.

“Thankfully no, but he refused to let us help him out…” The woman's tone took a curious tune. “It was weird but he was probably embarrassed and didn't want people to see… you know…” The hand gesture around the legs told what she meant and it only drew another stake at Ezios heart so Ezio took it as his cue to leave and look for the man.

Well… He fucked around too much and now has to beg this old dude for forgiveness…. 

He looked at the new boots in his hand… can't even give him these, great fuckup Ezio. Leo will laugh his ass off about this.

—------------------

It took him two days to track the man down, turns out when half the city is traversable via water everyone tries being a gondolier at least once, but this one has made a name for himself, which did not help Ezios conscience because all everyone said was;

“Oh, that man? yes, you can find him around here when the sun is up midday, very sweet and strange that one, always jokes with the others, nice to talk to.”

”Oh you mean him? Such a nice fella always chats to me about my day…”

”Paralyzed Gondolier…. ah you mean the nice one that hangs around here all day?”

So needless to say Ezio was sweating a bit but he was here to make things right!

His purse was heavier than usual today with an apology gift added into it, he walked the middle district scanning over any water he could see as he passed the bridges, he came to an opening of a small courtyard where people were sitting under the tree on benches and some street kids were playing around. It was one of those areas that had access to the water via stairs and docks. It was one of the busier yards since it had few shops around it too.

Ezio realized this was, in fact, the route he took 3 days ago, hopefully finding him will be easy, there can't be that many disabled gondola rowers. His eyes moved over the body of water,  there were 5 gondoliers docked near just hanging about, 2 of them sitting on a dock near their boats. He tried to look for an old weak man but the one he did notice did not show up on his eagle vision at all. 

When the same man also got up to stretch Ezio erased him off of possible victims.

Then he caught a flicker of gold light and his eyes zeroed into a golden bright figure on the left,

He blinked turning the vision on and off a couple of times...

”Ah cazzo, just my luck”

He didn't almost drown an old man who couldn't walk, he almost drowned one of the most handsome gondoliers in Venice.

#fanfic #ezio auditore #assassin's creed #desmond miles #no mermaids this chapter lol #next chapter will be Desmond pov #Idk if that dock actually exists act like it does for my sake plz lol

[sneaky-eel]

Sense Ubisoft decided to give us jack shit on Desmond's mother I wanted to do my own little head-canon of her.

Desmond's mother is a cold, no-nonsense woman. A prodigy in her own right who was probably one of the options for the next mentor, but preferred field work. Her acts of love are through services and what is a better service to those she loves then ridding the world of templars. The longest she probably went without being out in the field was when Desmond was born and it isn't till he is 5 or 6 that she goes back out. Now she is working twice as hard. Not just for her fellow assassins, but now she has a son. A son who will be forced to do this same exact thing if she doesn't do something.

So she is around less and less. One day here, two days there. And maybe she thinks she is doing her family a favor. She deludes herself into thinking this will push Bill and Desmond closer together. Desmond will love Bill more because he is there and she is not. But it has the opposite effect. As he gets older Desmond starts to resent Bill. He can never be good enough. Never strong enough or fast enough. He is subjected to a constant stream of belittlement from his father. Bill works all the time and Desmond hates that he is forced to have dinners at an empty table all alone while Bill is in his office. So close but still too far.

But his mother? Oh his mother is his hero because all this time he has been building in his head the idea of what his mother is. An ideal mother. "Yeah she isn't here cause she is keeping us safe. Everyone says how great she is. The best of the best." He tells himself. Then as he gets older he starts to compare Bill to this idea of his mother. "If mom was here she'd be able to explain this better to me. She is really smart.", "When mom gets back I'm sure she can help me with this move. She's the best.", "Once mom gets here we can have dinner like a family, maybe we can cook together." on and on.

Finally, at 16, his mother is home for the first time for a longer than a day. Two whole weeks in fact. And he is so excited only for that reunion to be awkward and kind of cold. He doesn't get those meals together like he hoped. Training with her is worse than his father. With Bill he had learned when the man is actually paying attention and where, which allowed Desmond to slack in other areas, but with his mother she is always watching. She nitpicks every movement and doesn't seem to understand why he can't get something on the first try. She pushes Desmond well past exhaustion and makes him train even past that. Desmond's carefully crafted view of his mother is destroyed in just a few days leaving him empty and convinced that neither of his parents actually love him.

From Desmond's mother's point of view the reunion is "cold" because she doesn't know what to say to her son. She has been gone for so much of his life and the only things she really knows about him are through Bill. She knows he has potential, but he is "disinterested" and "never takes anything seriously" so in training she pushes him. She has been a field agent this whole time. She knows that a single misstep can mean death and Desmond is already 16. In a few more years they will send him on his first mission and she will be damned if she lets him die. Those missed meals together? She is with Bill in his office helping with his work and on occasion they will sit there with a bottle of scotch between them, talking about life before. Before he had to be mentor, when they had at least a little time to themselves. A little time for each other. She doesn't see what she is doing to Desmond.

When it's time for her to leave again she doesn't question Desmond's lack of smile or how he says he is going to go "train", she only thinks 'Good. He is going to start taking things more seriously.' She doesn't think anything is wrong when she gets off the plane and she drives to the safe-house. She doesn't know that Desmond has snuck out. Ran away from the home he believes never even cared about him. Nothing is wrong until Bill calls her and says the three words the shatters her world.

"Desmond is gone."

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #william miles #Desmond miles' mother #written post #can you tell I don't write often? <:D #headcanon #I think both her and Bill tried to show their love through preparing desmond #it just horrible backfired on them #Being a prodigy she never learned how to teach other “regular” people #the fact they never even gave her a name #damn it ubisoft #I want to learn to write so I can feed my own fanfic needs