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kiatheinsomniac · 5 months

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──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from @tired-lime who's always a darling to work with 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, enemies to lovers, porn with plot, fingering, handjobs, creampies, unprotected sex

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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haytham-loves-chocolate · 5 months

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A Night In The Storm

A/N: I wanted to put a plot with this story, but I decided not to.

Warning: 18+ Only, Smut, NSFW, Fingering, Explicit Content, P in V action, oral sex (reader receiving).

By the fireplace, on the big furry rug, you and Haytham are already bare naked. Your hands are busy exploring his body, with one hand sliding up in his long, dark hair and the other placed firmly on his side. His left hand places itself on the top of your head to lean your face closer to his, your breaths hot and needy. His lips look sweet and rosy pink, his nose is a fine shape, one which you imagine to ride on. His dark grey eyes gaze into your eyes with desire and curiosity. His face is clear in the firelight, showing off his light skin, big, calloused hands, high cheekbones, and the way his eyebrows show that he is thinking of you, that he is thinking of all the things he could do to you.

He is on top of your body, and his eyes cannot help but stare at your body, up and down; his pupils dilate and you can see his eyes flicker too. His lip curls up with a smirk, his eyes looking back at yours as if to say something. Instead of a word, it’s a kiss. A passionate, longing kiss. Your eyelids slowly close as you kiss him back with that same passion and longing. Your hand in his hair grips it lightly and you feel his lips press to yours roughly. His eyes are already closed as he feels your other hand on his side move around to his upper back. As your eyes are still closed, you feel his lips part from yours, and you hear his voice purr out two words, “Sweet love”.

Your head tilts back in reaction to his lips moving down to your neck, latching on to suck and tease at the spot he knows will get you to make the sound he wants to hear. A small moan escapes from your lips, and already you feel aroused at the way his lips make you feel. His right hand slowly roams down your nude body, his fingertips lightly grazing your skin. When he gets to your breasts, his palm gently lifts one of your breasts, and his rough thumb slowly moves around your nipple. Your arousal only grows as another moan escapes your lips, and his other hand does the same movements to your other breast. He lowers his head to where his hands are, his trademark smirk still on his lips. He latches his lips onto your left nipple, flicking his tongue there. You let out a small gasp at this, which only makes his smirk bigger as he does it again to your other nipple. With his hands, he toys with your breasts and nipples, while his eyes glance up through his eyelashes at the euphoric expression on your face. With his hands still on your breasts, and the heat from your bodies getting hotter, a loud gasp escapes your lips when you feel his tongue on your inner thigh. Fluttering your eyes open, your eyes meet with his as you tilt your head forward to see his big hands covering your breasts, and his small smirk is still plastered on his face.

A small whine escapes your lips as you see his hands move away from your breasts, and his hands explore your stomach and sides. You squirm in his touch and you move your arms above your head so you’re not in his way. His mouth gets to work praising every inch of your sensitive area. His hands grip your inner thighs roughly while his tongue slowly and teasingly licks the inner lips of your pussy. With your whines and pleading cries that come out of your lips, it only fuels his carnal desires. Nevertheless, he presses a few kisses against your clit, letting a low hum escape from his throat as he does so.

“Tell your Grand Master what you want.” He purrs out, moving one of his hands to cup at your sex and have his thumb move up and down your clit.

“I want- I want your fingers deep in me.” You breathe out as you let out another loud moan.

With your request, he dips two of his long, thick fingers inside your pussy, pumping them in and out while his eyes look up at yours, seeing your lips parted wide open and your eyes shut, moans freely coming out of your lips. With a low chuckle, he dips his head down to use his tongue to lap up at your arousal, closing his eyes to focus. You feel your walls clench around his fingers, and as a result of this, he curls his fingers and thrusts deep into your pussy. You feel that knot in your stomach loosen up, and with a loud cry of pleasure coming out of your lips, you feel yourself squirt all over his fingers. As your face contorts into an orgasmic expression, you feel his fingers pull out of you with a lewd pop. In their place, his tongue licks up your sweet nectar, not letting a single drop waste.

You open your eyes again to see his body come closer to yours, and he raises his fingers to his lips, before slipping them inside his mouth, tasting your liquid. A blush seeps into your cheeks at this erotic action, and you can only think about what he might do next.

“You are a sweet girl, Y/N.” Haytham’s accent and the way he says it has your cheeks as red as a tomato.

His body presses against yours while his lips ghost yours. In your mind, you only wish to be together with him in the most intimate way possible, and as your eyes gaze at his, you can only wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

His lips capture yours in heated desire, loving the small hum that comes up from your vocal cords. His right-hand grips his erected dick, stroking his shaft a few times with precum seeping out of the tip. At last, he inserts himself deep inside you, the blending of your moans and his groans filling the room. His thrusts are slow and sensual at first, his hips pressed onto yours so you can move with him too. Your hands touch his back and your legs wrap around his waist, the heels of your feet touching his bare cheeks. Without a warning, he slips his hands under your legs and flips you both over so you’re on top of him.

His hands grip your hips and straddles you on his dick, seeing your eyes flicker in the firelight. You press your palms against his pectorals as you ride him, his fingers grip your hips to make your movements follow his. Your head tilts back as your moans only grow louder, feeling your walls clench around his dick again. A feeling of pleasure fills up your senses as his dick hits your G-spot. Low groans rumble in his throat, and his head, too, is tilted back in pleasure. His hips thrust rougher into yours, and you feel your high get closer and closer. As if he knew this, he sat up to have his body almost mimicking yours. His face is closer to yours, and his breath is hot against your neck. Without a word needing to be said, he moves one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his palm cradling under your chin, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, affectionate kiss.

With another rough thrust deep inside you, you let out a loud gasping moan and already you can feel some of your heat drip out of you and on his length. Your lips part slightly as your eyes are partly open, seeing his face the same way.

“I love you, Haytham” is all you can manage to let out, being a hot mess in his handsome and sexual ways.

“I know.” He whispers to you, a smug grin appearing on his face.

With a loud cry, you came all over his length, and with his low groan in his throat, he pressed his hips close to yours as he released his seed deep inside you.

He pulls your body close to him, making sure to hold you as you start to feel a bit tired. He moves his hand over to his cape and lays back down on the rug, still holding you close. You let out a small hum in reaction to this, and he lays his cape over the two of you. Your bodies are still pressed together, but his length has pulled out from your entrance.

With a tug of his hair, you untie the red ribbon that keeps his head together. You gently place it on top of his hat and you move your hand back to his hair, gently brushing your fingers in it, just to hear the low, sexy hum from his voice.

The crackling of the fire, the warmth of the cape, and the feeling of your Grand Master beside you are all that you wanted today. Hopefully tomorrow, he will want to spend another day with you, like this, all over again.

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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year

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──── 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from @tired-lime who was absolutely lovely to work with! Thank you very much! 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 7.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

You did your best to keep your eyes on the chemise you were darning. It wasn’t one you wore outside of bed as your outfits consisted more of trousers than long skirts, much more suitable to the life that your godfather had raised you into, the same life that your father had led. Achilles was the closest thing to a father that you had considering that yours was killed by a Templar back when the Colonial Brotherhood was wiped out a generation ago. You had a few fuzzy memories of your father: him reading fairy tales to you before you went to sleep, one summer afternoon where you showered him with a handful of daisies that you’d picked. That was all. You had been born outside of wedlock, your mother dying shortly after your birth but your father had stepped up right until the day he was murdered and it was for his kindness that you accepted Achilles’ invitation to join the Brotherhood.

As much as you loved Achilles and you had been happy when it was just the two of you in Davenport Manor, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s arrival made you realise how much you craved having someone your own age around. He was a quiet but kind-hearted boy who wanted to right the wrong that had been committed against his home at the hands of the Templars. The two of you had that much in common.

You’d been trying to get him to talk to you more but he was so distant and a part of you didn’t blame him after what he’d been through. The most you had actually seen him talk was in his persistence to get Achilles to train him (you had put in a few persuasive words on the boy’s behalf too, though he still didn’t know it). For the first few months, you had allowed him his space despite your excitement at having someone new around. He was mourning a great loss and it wouldn’t be fair for you to intrude on that space. You would often hear him wake from nightmares where he would shout, cry out or groan but you thought that it would be overstepping a line to enter his room in order to check up on him. Instead, you would offer him silent comforts in the morning when helping to prepare breakfast (something you had always done for Achilles as his knee would hassle him when walking around too much, so it was no extra effort to prepare food for Ratonhnhaké:ton on certain mornings). You would give him an extra dash of honey in his tea or you’d go out to the greenhouse for a handful of blueberries to put in his porridge with an extra pinch of cinnamon. Silent little treats to remind him that even though terrible things had happened to him, he still deserved comforts and nice things.

Now, though, he was stripped down to just his undershirt as he chopped wood not too far from the porch where you were perched on the swing, darning your nightdress. Ratonhnhaké:ton was a tall young man, easily towering over both you and Achilles, and the contours of his body were only becoming more defined as the two of you trained together. His sleeves were pushed up over his forearms and your eyes quickly fell down to where you had pricked your finger with the needle in your distracted state. You could have cursed the little slither of metal but found that you could do no such thing when it very well could be what stopped you from being caught staring at your new ally and housemate.

A bead of blood pooled at your fingertip and you smeared it between your finger and thumb before discarding it on the dark fabric of your trousers which would not be ruined by the small stain. When your eyes flickered back up to Ratonhnhaké:ton at the new silence, the pause of the axe coming down hard on the large blocks of wood, it was to see him tying back his dark hair that was becoming bothersome, getting in his way. Your gaze fell straight back down to the chemise in your lap when his dark eyes roved upwards to where you were on the porch.

Enough time had passed for you to no longer be intruding on his mourning, surely? But he was so reserved that you had little idea how to get closer to him, how to glide through this wall of what seemed to be distrust which he had built around himself. You’d already cooked enough meals for him, eaten them together at the dining table, had trained with him, what more could you do without being too forward? You pondered your thoughts as you continued to pull at the needle and thread. Foraging or hunting together, perhaps? Though, hunting seemed to be quite a solitary activity for him so perhaps just foraging or maybe even gardening? You could relate it to the cooking so perhaps that was a smooth enough transition? Yes, you decided, this evening you would invite him to go foraging with you.

It was early autumn, that time of year when the trees were just starting to turn and it was foggy and nippy in the mornings but warm by the time the sun was setting over the horizon and there were plenty of herbs and all sorts of mushrooms to be found. The two of you could spend the day foraging and chatting and hopefully the time spent together would help you to better understand him, to better figure out how to overcome these walls he had built around himself.

You brought the chemise up to your mouth in order to break the thread off with your teeth and you held it up to inspect your work in the light. Deeming that you were finished, you stood up to head back inside. You lingered just outside the door for a moment as you watched Ratonhnhaké:ton continue to chop the firewood. He paused when he realised that he had an audience and you gave him a shy wave to which he responded with a gentle smile and soft dip of his head.

The little interaction made each of your steps feel lighter when you made your way back indoors.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

That night, as you and Connor were washing the dishes in the tub, scrubbing the plates clean and drying them off to be put away, you approached him with your idea.

“So…” You began as you took a handful of cleaned and dried cutlery to put away in the drawer, “I was thinking of going foraging tomorrow, maybe making a mushroom soup? You haven’t really seen the homestead at this time of year so I thought I could show you some of the best places to find things?” You suggested as you came to sit back down opposite him. You watched as he slowed right down from where he had been using a cloth to try up one of the bowls, considering your offer. It was in that tense moment of unsurety to his answer that you realised how much you would really be hurt should he turn you down. When you had planned this out, you figured that it would be a nothing-gained-nothing-lost sort of situation but now that you watched as he decided whether or not to spend the day with you, you realised how much rejection would hurt.

“That sounds like a good idea. What time will we leave?” Your shoulders relaxed a little upon hearing his agreement and the warm water crept up your wrists as you searched around blindly for anything else that might have been forgotten about at the bottom of the tub.

“Ten?” You suggested, “That way we can have breakfast and prepare a lunch before going too.” Slowly, he nodded his head once.

“Maybe we could bring some herbs back to grow in the greenhouse too?” He added and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to quell what would have otherwise been a beaming smile. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Not only did he want to forage with you but he wanted to garden with you too when the both of you returned.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” You agreed. The two of you stood and you went to put away the rest of the dishes while he hefted up the tub to pour the water to the ground outside.

“Thank you, Ratohnhaké:ton.” You said when he returned. You had always hated emptying out the water by yourself as it would often slosh around and splash onto your clothing. He seemed to have an easier time with it.

“Thank you.” He returned.

“Oh, I’ve always been used to doing the dishes anyway. Achilles would help me when I was really little but if I can spare him-”

“No, no, I meant for using my name.” You paused for a moment as you realised that you never really called him Connor the way that Achilles did. He had introduced himself as Ratonhnhaké:ton before your godfather and mentor gave him another name and you supposed that it just had the chance to stick before Connor did.

You simply shrugged, was it really so much of a big deal to use his real name?

“You introduced yourself like that so I suppose I’ve never really considered you to be Connor…” You didn’t miss the small smile on his lips and it made your heart leap for a moment.

“Still, it means a lot…” You had more chores to do and so you made your way outside to feed the horses. When you made your way back inside, you found Achilles in the living room, resting in an armchair with a book in his hands.

“Where did Ratonhnhaké:ton go?” You asked as you looked around a little before grabbing your book from the shelf and taking your own seat in order to continue where you had left off.

“The basement, training.” He replied simply, only sparing you one glance from his book. That wasn’t unusual for Connor. He had a thirst for revenge and he knew that he had to prepare himself in order to realise it. “I fear that ambition will kill that boy…”

“Is that why you didn’t want to take him in?” You asked and the older man let out a sigh and he closed his book, keeping his thumb between the pages to assure he didn’t lose his place.

“The days of this brotherhood were cut short years ago when Shay tore up all my students like they were weeds in the ground.” He began, “I taught you what I did so that you could protect yourself if anyone ever came after us again but I never wanted you to become an Assassin, I owed that much to your father-”

“But you know that I’m older now and that’s not your choice to make, don’t you?” You asked. Achilles let out a pensive hum and rubbed the fingers of his free hand together before propping his elbow up on the armrest so that he could lean his head on his palm.

“I do. And I knew that when his boy came along with his plot of revenge against the Templars that you’d be roped into it too-”

“But isn’t it my revenge as much as it is his?” You countered and your godfather sighed. The two of you had skirted around this subject many times but it seemed that it had been coming up more and more often since Ratonhnhaké:ton arrived.

“The man who killed your father…” Achilles let out a deep sigh, “Well you know this story, child: you know that he was an Assassin, that he turned on us, that he worked with the Templars to wipe us out and then vanished. I won’t see you get yourself killed chasing down his whole order just to get to him.”

“But you’ll let Ratonhnhaké:ton do the same chasing down Charles Lee?” You contradicted.

“Connor-” Achilles paused when he realised just how sharply his tone had come out, his voice softening from then on, “-isn’t my goddaughter.”

“Achilles, I’m not going to be in this manor forever and I’m going to have to make my own decisions in life.”

“And what decisions are you going to make when you’re dead, hm? Because you got killed for the sake of revenge but who’s going to be left to avenge you?” You went silent for a moment, knowing he’d say that and yet you were stumped for a moment.

“If I pass up this opportunity while Ratonhnhaké:ton’s here to fight by my side, will I ever get this chance again? He’s going to kill Templars looking for Lee and what if, in that process, he kills everyone who might lead me to Cormac?” You countered. Achilles went silent and you hoped it was because he realised that he wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

“You finish training first. I won’t allow you to leave a moment sooner.” You gave a slight nod of your head as your eyes turned back down to your book, huffing out a little sigh.

“Seems fair enough to me…”

The following morning, you had already had a quick wash, had dressed and braided your hair back and out of the way and you were preparing lunch for the day while Ratonhnhaké:ton was making breakfast for the two of you. You didn’t go out of your way to make anything too fancy: just some sandwiches each with some dried meat and an apple on the side, something lightweight for your bags. Meanwhile, Ratonhnhaké:ton was preparing your usual breakfast of porridge and honey with some tea.

“Is there anything in particular that you’re hoping to find?” Connor asked as the two of you ate, sitting opposite each other at the dining table. Your thoughtful hum was silenced by the sip that you took from your sweetened tea.

“Chicken of the woods? Hopefully some oyster mushrooms too, they tend to be quite plentiful and I know quite a few recipes that include them.” You replied as your spoon scraped around the bottom of your bowl, getting the last of your food out. It was nice to have a warm breakfast before heading out into the cold morning air.

The two of you cleaned up after yourself as to not give Achilles anything to worry about and then threw on some coats to go outside with. You knew that you’d just end up carrying it back with how the day was bound to get warmer as it progressed but, still, you were not willing to freeze for a few hours just to spare yourself from having to carry the coat later on.

The two of you were already past the line of trees and following a trodden-down trail when you finally decided to speak, the sound of your voice joining in with the wind and birds singing through the treetops around you.

“So, uh, I suppose I never really asked but how do you find the homestead? Do you feel at home here or…?” Having this conversation so long after he had come to live with you and your godfather made it sink in a little more just how distant Ratonhnhaké:ton could be.

“Originally, I think I just saw it as temporary, a means to an end…” Your heart fell a little at discovering he did not feel as at home in the manor as you did, “But Achillies has kept his word and you’ve been more than welcoming.” He replied and it immediately lifted your spirits. You had been putting in the effort to make him feel welcomed and you were glad that it had taken effect. “And I’ve come to realise that I’ll need a place to be able to come back to and I don’t think I’d want it to be anywhere but here.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You replied as you slowed your pace a little in order to walk beside him instead of a few paces ahead of him, “But we should get off the path now and get looking. I assume you know what sort of stuff to look out for in terms of the mushrooms: fallen logs or branches, rotting wood.” He gave a quick nod of his head, his braid swinging a little and the two of you split up to begin combing through the area, though not wandering too far from one another.

Connor was the first to find something: some fennel. He took a portion of the plant from the ground, preserving the roots and wrapping the soil-covered base in a cloth before putting it into his bag. You found a few white mushrooms, hoping for them to be horse mushrooms but cutting into the cap quickly revealed them to be yellow stainers and so you dropped your sample and let the others be, not wishing to poison anyone in the manor with such a toxic fungus.

Though, you didn’t give up hope and between light chit-chat with your companion, lifting rotting branches, scanning fallen logs and keeping an eye on tree trunks, you had quite a bit to show for half a day’s work by the time you and Connor had removed your coats to sit upon while you ate lunch in a little clearing. The first few autumn leaves fell around you while the sun filtered through the gap in the trees that you were seated on the edge of.

You took out a little knife to begin slicing into your apple before Connor’s large palm reached out to rest upon your knee. Confused, your gaze flickered up to him to find that he was holding a single finger to his plump lips. He very slowly withdrew and reached for the bow that had been set beside him, knocking an arrow before – with such liquid and steady movement – he cautiously rose to his knees, pulling back the string.

You followed where the arrow was pointed and noticed a rabbit grazing at the other end of the clearing, seemingly unaware of the presence of the two of you. Had you blinked, you would have missed when the arrow flew and Ratonhnhaké:ton quickly got to his feet to make sure he hadn’t missed his mark. Setting your apple and knife down on your coat, you followed him and found that his aim had been true. He took out a cord from his pocket and tied it around the creature’s feet, turning to you with a proud smile that you couldn’t help but share in.

“I have a recipe I’d like to try if you don’t mind letting me cook tonight?” He asked and you grew even more enthusiastic.

“Of course!” You replied as the two of you returned to where you had been sitting in order to finish your lunches. As you returned to your cross-legged position, you couldn’t help but reflect on how his hand had been so warm upon your knee, bronzen skin against your clothing, large palm splaying over you. It filled you with a sort of warmth and you stole a glance at him for a fraction of a second before you decided against looking at him with such thoughts in your head. You quelled the urge to bite on your lower lip by pushing a slice of apple past your teeth and chewing on that instead. Was this more than just a desire for friendship? You hadn’t had many friends to really know what it felt like to want to pursue someone platonically so badly but what if your feelings were more than that?

You decided to not lose yourself in such a train of thought lest you accidentally slice your finger on the knife that you were using to cut up your apple. You still had most of the day to spend with Connor and you didn’t want it to be spent pondering such a big question, you’d much rather you be able to enjoy his company free of the burden of such possibilities.

Once you’d both finished eating, you reviewed what you had already managed to find and you slung your coat over the top of your messenger bag so that you would have no need to carry it while you walked around. The two of you would now begin to loop back around to the manor, returning from a different direction than the one you had left in, seeing what you could find along the way. You eyed up the rabbit that Connor carried over his shoulder as you walked just a few paces behind him before you skipped forwards a little, just enough that you would be able to fall into sync with him.

“Can you teach me how to hunt like that? I’ve been using a bow for a really long time but I don’t know the first thing about where to aim at an animal, how to not spook it, what to do with it after, all the technical stuff, you know?” You asked, “And you seem brilliant at it.” The request had genuinely been made out of a want to learn the skill, knowing it would prove to be beyond valuable as you walked through life, but you realised the other implication to your words the moment they left your mouth. Asking Ratonhnhaké:ton to teach you how to hunt would mean spending more time with him too. You supposed that his answer would reflect greatly on whether or not he was enjoying this day spent with you.

“Of course.” He replied, “I do have one condition, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

“You’ll teach me how to use the rope dart. I know Achillies has taught you but he refuses to teach me just yet, I’m not entirely sure why.” He replied.

“He used to train lots of people a while back; my father was one of them.” You explained, “He’s just a very methodical man, he spent decades teaching people at a particular pace, in a particular way and if it worked for so long, I’m sure he just doesn’t see the need to change things or speed up the process.” You shrugged.

“Achilles trained your father?” Connor highlighted and you nodded your head with a hum, “They were really close and he gave my father an opportunity to make something of himself, then later on the means to support me. It’s why he was made my godfather – the old man won’t ever admit it but he’s a really nurturing person and I think that my dad saw that in him too.”

“What was your father like?” Your companion asked.

“I didn’t really know him, I can’t remember him all that well because he was killed by a Templar when I was young. I know that he read me stories and took me out to play though. I can just faintly remember his smile too.” You had come to terms with his death a long time ago but for some reason it filled you with that deep sadness that would rarely weigh heavily on your chest when you thought about him, about his injustice. “Yours?” You asked, wanting to change the subject.

“I never knew him.” Connor replied and you bit the inside of your cheek for asking such a question at all. “My mother was a wonderful woman though. She was intelligent and her will was as strong as her body. So many of us looked up to her and I… She deserves to be here still. Lee deserves to pay for taking that from her, from me.”

“She sounds incredible.” You replied, “I didn’t know my mother, she died when I was just a baby.” A very silence fell over the two of you, punctuated by wind and birdsong, as you reflected on your pasts, on each other’s pasts. You had both lacked one parent, had lost the other to an untimely death at the hands of another. And in the present, you both had a desire for revenge. “Oh wow, look!” You pointed through the trees with one hand as the other grabbed his arm to stop him from walking ahead, pointing to a thick growth of brambles that were covered in plump, ripe blackberries.

That evening, you were spared your typical duty of cooking dinner and you weren’t entirely sure whether Ratonhnhaké:ton’s rabbit stew really was that incredible or whether it just tasted better because it was cooking for you and not by you. It gave you time to draw yourself a bath while he cooked and as you towel-dried your hair, you gazed out of your window to the greenhouse that you and Connor had gone to after your day of foraging in order to plant the herbs you had found. You smiled fondly as you recalled the way his hands had cupped around yours once while helping you to pot the plant. He had been so tender with pruning different plants there and it filled you with a sort of warmth to see a young man as broad and looming as Ratonhnhaké:ton be so tender. You’d trained with him, had seen his strength, had listened to his story of injustice, fire and blood; and yet he was still so gentle. You snapped yourself out of your daydream to fold up the towel and brush your damp hair. You threw on a robe so as to not feel the chill that would often dance through the old manor at night and made your way downstairs to read with Achillies as you usually did, grabbing your book from the nightstand.

However, on your way down there, you passed the secret entrance to the basement and, instead, followed the sound of a training dummy being beaten where you then found Connor in the middle of the room, wooden stick in his hand as he attacked the dummy from all sorts of directions. You sat down on a nearby seat silently and he acknowledged your presence with a nod of his head and a slight smile before continuing with what he was doing. You opened your book to the page where you had left off and began to read, the two of you sharing the basement while both of you did your own thing.

“About hunting…” He began once he deemed he was done for the evening and you had already read through multiple chapters, “How about two days from now?” He suggested. You liked that he seemed eager to get out with you again, that he was the one to chase this up and not you.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.” You answered as you slid your bookmark back between the pages.

“And you’ll teach me how to use the rope dart?” You set the book down on the table and picked up one of said weapons from where it had been wrapped around itself and hung on the wall. Pulling on the knot to loosen it, you took the dart in hand and swung it around once before thrusting it forward. It flew through the air and straight into the dummy’s chest, allowing you to yank it forwards and push it off your dart by kicking the dummy away as it threatened to crash into your body.

“Of course.” You replied and couldn’t help but grin at the awed smile on Ratonhnhaké:ton’s face, the little glitter in his eyes at your surprise demonstration, “And I’ll teach you to do more than just that too.” You made your way upstairs to check on Achilles.

Two days passed and it was early morning. You were checking over everything in your pack with a list and pencil in hand, making sure that you had everything for the journey. Achilles had assured you that he would be alright without the two of you for two days but you still made extra food for him just in case. Sure, he wasn’t quite the vulnerable old man that you made him out to be in your mind but, for a very long time, Achilles was the only person you had and so you supposed you had developed a habit of being a little too nurturing sometimes, wanting to do your part to make sure that nothing bad happened to him too.

Either way, you would be spending the next two days out camping with Connor while he taught you how to hunt. He said that it would be best if you took more than just the day like when you had gone foraging together so that you were more likely to come back with a good haul. You were dressed warm, knowing the nights would be cold and you could just carry the extra layers in your bag during the day. Checking almost everything off your list, you threw on a coat and slung your bag over your back, making your way downstairs.

You followed the route down to the basement to retrieve a bow and quiver full of arrows as well as a few rope darts which you stashed away in your bag and hoped your godfather wouldn’t realise were missing. You made your way to the porch where you found Achilles sitting in the swing-chair that you had been in around a week ago, darning your chemise and watching Ratonhnhaké:ton chop wood.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You asked. You’d never really been away from Achilles and the thought of any old person being lonely broke your heart a little.

“Young lady, I was here a long time before you were and I can assure you I’ll be perfectly fine all by myself; especially with enough food to feed a family of four that you’ve left me with.” He added and you bit back a smile at his sassiness. And he had the nerve to ask where you got it from sometimes.

“Alright then. We’ll be back in a few days.” You placed your hand on his shoulder and stooped down to press a kiss to his temple and he returned the gesture by taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll see you in a few days, child.” He said as you turned to go and meet Connor where he was waiting for you down the path. You jogged to catch up to him, unaware of the smile on your face.

The two of you struck up conversation about what sort of game you were expecting to come across, how far you would travel before taking breaks or setting up camp, all little conversation pieces related to why you were out in the first place but what you really wanted was to talk about him. You still craved to get past the walls he put up around himself, to find out who he was at his core and you could only hope that you’d be able to do that on this trip. Since inviting him to forage with you, you’d both been spending more time together outside of training: cooking, cleaning, gardening, reading, sewing, carving, tending to the horses. Even if you weren’t talking to each other, you were spending time around one another and a part of you was optimistic that Ratonhnhaké:ton wanted to let you in as much as you wanted to be let in by him. Only time would tell, you supposed.

Connor was a good teacher, you would come to find. Within the first few hours of your trip, he had already given you a great many tips on how to better aim your bow and how to draw your arrows stealthily enough as to not spook your prey. You were currently aiming at a pinecone on a low tree branch – Ratonhnhaké:ton having emphasised the importance of practising on small targets considering you would have to have very precise aim when shooting a live creature – and he was standing behind you, raising your elbow and bending your aiming arm enough for the string to not hit your arm upon release.

You found yourself mildly trembling at how close he was, how the heat of his body was warming your back, his breath puffling out against your cheek as he pressed it to yours in order to get a better look at how you were aiming. His hand covered yours to silently coax you to draw the string right back to your other cheek and you did your utmost to stop your body from quivering.

Did he see this as no different to the closeness when you would train and spar together? Because it felt so different to you somehow, so much more intimate. He was making it difficult to concentrate but was that really such a bad thing? If you missed all that would happen would be him sharing in this closeness once more as he corrected your posture or aim, unknowingly feeding into the well of delight that was bubbling in your chest.

You let the arrow fly.

It just barely missed the target and you pouted, knowing that you would have been able to hit it if not for your gorgeous distraction.

“That’s ok.” He reassured you in that gentle honey-like tone of his as he handed you another arrow. “Try again.” He withdrew from you entirely and while you were disappointed at it, you also found that it became much easier to concentrate.

The pinecone was knocked from the tree.

You had stopped for lunch and you proudly had a rabbit hanging from your bag, its feet tied together in the way that Connor had taught you. You’d packed a little something for your first day in case you hadn’t caught anything that you could cook. Truthfully, you had spooked off two rabbits before managing to shoot this one and you hadn’t exactly aimed as perfectly as your tutor but Connor had been quick to put the poor creature down, assuring that he would also teach you how to do that for yourself.

With your bag propped up against a nearby tree and some lunch in your belly, you had taken out two rope darts for you and Ratonhnhaké:ton to practise with. The moves almost seemed to come to him naturally and you wondered for a moment if this is the sort of life your father had led: the camaraderie of training with and teaching fellow Assassins, knowing that these skills would one day be used to act out justice, to defend the world from the tyranny of the ideologies in the Templar Order. You may well be fighting for your life side-by-side with this man in the not-so-distant future and you were sure that there is no one else in the world you could possibly want to have more than him in that situation. After a few more hours of training, you continued on to hunt some more before you would begin to set up camp for the night.

These plans were ruined, however, when the wind picked up. Dark, threatening clouds rolled in from the horizon as the two of you followed a path by the lake where you had stopped after some fruitless hunting to teach Connor how to make fish hooks the way you did. He had decided that it was better to get moving than to fish upon seeing the clouds and he was right as you were now squinting against a downpour of rain, blinking your lashes to try and keep the water out of your eyes.

The two of you had decided to head to higher ground and you trudged on a few paces behind him as he led the way to a spot he had found before when out hunting. You weren’t particularly happy about your wet clothes and sodden, muddy boots but you knew all would be well once Connor led you to shelter and you could get a fire going.

As you tilted your head up just slightly in order to see if there was a single break in the clouds that had turned your nice day with Connor upside down, you lost your footing and your arms flung out in preparation to catch yourself only, you fell straight down.

You were now up to your waist in mud, having fallen into a hole of sorts.

“Wait!” You called out to Ratonhnhaké:ton, trying to get yourself out but beginning to panic when you realised that it only made you sink deeper. “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” Your voice now came out in a desperate cry and he turned around, eyes widening when he didn’t see you before his head tilted down to where you were only waist-above the ground.

“Hey, hey,” He was quickly kneeling down by your side, grabbing your arm to try and calm you but you were still hurriedly trying to get out, “calm down, it’ll be worse if you panic.” He was right, you knew, but it didn’t dissolve the fear that was bubbling within you. “Y/n.” He spoke your name as his other hand cupped your face, making you meet his brown eyes. They seemed to reach straight into your soul and you continued to pant in ragged, shaky breaths but were no longer flailing about to get out. “I’m going to get you out, ok? Let me take off your bag.” You moved your arms to assist him but kept the rest of your body as still as possible as he set the extra weight aside and got to his feet, careful that he didn’t fall in with you as he bent down to grab you under your arms. “Grab on when I lift you. On three: one… two… three!” He pulled you from the mud and you were rather surprised that you didn’t lose either or both of your shoes in the process as he set you back upon steady ground. You were absolutely soaked and covered in mud, trembling from the cold as the rain beat down against your back.

Without a word being said, Connor threw your bag onto his back and took your hand in his as he hurried up your pace, leading you up an up-hill path. You were glad for the security that he provided in holding your hand, reassuring you that he would not allow you to fall again as he led you into a sheltered and dry cave. You got to work on starting a fire while he set up the tent, thunder clapping in the distance as you were momentarily lit up by a crack of lightning. You were glad to be out of the storm, shivering in your ruined clothes as you huddled by the fire. Your hand felt warm though and somehow, something as simple as Ratonhnhaké:ton taking your hand managed to make this situation much less worse than it really was. When he was finished, he joined you by the fire and frowned at the state you were in. He wished he had taken your hand earlier as you walked through the downpour of rain, he could have stopped you from now being a mud-soaked, trembling mess.

“I should… get these off…” You murmured, knowing you would only freeze and make a mess of your bedroll in your muddy clothes but also not wanting to make Ratonhnhaké:ton uncomfortable by being in such a state of undress around him. He was a very reserved young man, this you already knew, and you didn’t want to scare him away.

“Right.” He replied, hesitating for a moment before turning around to give you some privacy. You wouldn’t be able to wash your clothes so you would just have to let the fire make the mud dry and you could redress in the morning. Unfortunately, your trip would have to be cut short as you didn’t take a change of clothes into account considering the two of you were supposed to be returning to the homestead the morning following tomorrow night. You didn’t have many clothes and dirtying both sets would only mean having to wash your clothing in summer attire outdoors or in your nightdress which certainly wasn’t going to happen.

You removed your boots first, undressing everything from your waist down and then covering yourself in your blanket, laying down on your bedroll under the shelter of the tent as you basked in the warmth of the fire, your skin aching with the cold.

“Ok, I’m decent.” You said to let Connor know he could look and he faced you once more. You passed the hours in idle chit-chat about how you would need to change your plans and return early, about the time he went out in a thunderstorm as a child and was pranked by a friend whose laughter he claimed to always hear in thunder. You reminisced about the autumn sun shining through the fiery-coloured leaves and the splash of colour from the evergreens of the forest. The two of you eventually ended up counting the time between lightning strikes as though you were both children.

However, through all this, Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t fail to miss the chatter of your teeth or how you were still shivering. He had added more wood to the fire but it had only had very little effect on you.

“You’re still cold…” He spoke up after a while and you were silent for a while, not wanting to be a bother. You felt that he had already done so much for you and you had silently been cursing yourself for falling into that hole in the first place. Perhaps your hunting trip wouldn’t have to be cut short if only you had looked where you were going, especially in such terrible weather. Moreover, the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable or upset in any way and risk losing any progress you had made in trying to get closer to him.

“Yeah…” You admitted quietly despite your tumult of thoughts.

“Can I…?” His words died on his tongue, losing the courage to vocalise his intentions before he was getting closer to you, stepping over your body carefully to join you in the tent and laying on his own bedroll. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment when he shuffled closer to you and one strong arm wrapped over your body, pulling you back against him. Wanting to respect your modesty, he didn’t get under the blanket but he was warm enough that you could feel his warmth seep through the material and you couldn’t help but press your body to his.

He seemed tense for a while and you contemplated telling him that he didn’t have to do this, even if a selfish part of you wished to never leave this little pocket of heaven that he had led you into with the warmth and gentleness of this embrace. However, he shifted enough to slide his other arm beneath your head and then set his chin atop your head as he watched the flames of the fire dance, relaxing at being in a more comfortable position in which he wasn’t crushing his own arm. The two of you laid there in silence for a while until you mustered up the courage to turn over, burying your face in his chest and slinging an arm over his side before wrapping the arm beneath you around your own waist, reaching for his hand and feeling him hesitantly lace his fingers with yours, then giving you a confident squeeze when your firmer hold confirmed that you did want to hold his hand.

“I like this a lot…” You murmured against him and you felt him let out a content sigh as he buried his face in your hair, taking in your scent (which was mostly that of rain after the earlier ordeal).

“So do I…” He replied, his voice rumbling lowly in his chest and you wondered when your legs had tangled with his between the layers of blankets.

“I like you a lot too…” Your sleepy murmur came out and if you were more awake, more aware, you would not have had the courage to admit such a thing. You just barely felt his lips brush your hairline when he spoke next:

“So do I…”

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