assassin's creed preferences & imagines

He Makes It Up To You

Altaïr: You huddled in the sheets, pretending like the tears weren't there, that your pain wasn't real. It's been a week, and suddenly, every single thing he did was like a stab in the heart, memories bright and painful.

You couldn't run anymore, no, he did that with you. You couldn't watch your favorite show, he did that with you too. Everything reminded you of him.

A quiet vibrating pulled you from the sorrows, just for a moment, as you look at the caller ID. My Syrian Dream. You immediately rejected the call, trying to get yourself to delete that...stupid name out of your contacts.

In the next five minutes he called ten times, and twice you debated never going to the gym and dying in the warm sheets of your bed. On the twelfth call though, you answered.

"What do you want?!" you accidentally yell, tears threatening to fall.

"I want you to go outside, (Y/n). Please."

A tear fell. "Fine. I'm not taking you back. If that's what you're trying."

"Just... Please. (Y/n)."

You hung up, wiping any moisture from your eyes and walking outside. He stood outside, doughnuts in hand.

You shook your head, starting to walk back inside.

"Wait..." He sounded so helpless. "(Y/n), I fucked up."

"Yeah, I know. That's why we're like this."

"(Y/n)... You're the best thing that could ever happen to me. I haven't ran or exercised, I could barely even get up today. I've been different without you. You changed me for the better, even if you dyed my hair lime green once, and you kept me on countless cheat weeks. I didn't know what I had until I didn't. If you won't take me back...at least take the doughnuts?" He smiled weakly.

You stood there, and suddenly, tears came down your face and you sprinted to him, slamming your lips to his.

You've been together ever since.
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Ezio: Pissed off tears dripped down your cheeks as you stared at the clothing in your closet. You've decided, since it's been a week, to do something about the constant pain that is your clothes.

"Fuck...fuck fashion, fuck style...fuck him."

With the three sentences you swore you'd never, EVER say, you started putting clothes into a trash bag. The salmon pink shoes were first, the tears stinging your eyes. Next was the lingerie, your fingers going numb as you found it so hard to breathe. Then...the outfits he got you on your first date. Now you couldn't see very well. The last thing was the outfit that started your lying...cheating...

You collapsed on the floor, gasping as you sobbed. It was too much...too much, too early. Your tears soaked the carpet, you couldn't bring yourself to care. He didn't care. He didn't love you. He hated you. Why would he...

The doorbell rang, and you weakly pushed yourself up. Each step was heavy, but when you opened the door, your hand flew to your mouth.

Rose petals were scattered around a pair of shoes, a note with your name hanging off the side.

"(Y/n)...Sono un completo idiota. I understand if you don't trust me anymore...but..." Footsteps approached as he smiled softly, petals in his hair as he held an elegant dress to match the shoes. "Please. Forgive me."

You forcefully hugged him, unable to express how much you did.

He understood.
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Connor: The house was quiet. He had been gone for a week, and you made him take the dogs with him.