This… boy had no ambition. No direction. No plans for the future. What he DID have was a heritage.
Assassin’s Creed III - leaked Desmond story trailer/recap.
The club smelled like hard liquor and sweat. Flashing lights and heavy beat music ricocheted around the room, creating an unwavering vibration throughout. Desmond Miles stood behind the bar, mixing and pouring drinks almost as fast as they were being ordered.
characters listed on the wikipedia.
..I actually am doing that chihuahua shake and tear up thing again.
Even if this isn’t true.
Don’t break my heart ubisoft.
SHAUN HASTINGS / DESMOND MILES
- night terrors
Normally it’s him waking up, cold sweat, nearly screaming as he shakes. This time though something is wrong and though through the haze of sleep he can’t tell what, the sense of wrong hangs heavy in the air. So he shifts, fumbling in the darkness, grappling for god knows what. Desmond doesn’t stop until he feels skin too damp and too cold, instantly his chest twists painfully and he grips the edges of his thick comforter to wrap it haphazardly about the other man. Giving a grunt, he pulls Shaun against him in the dark, brows furrowing. How is he supposed to comfort him? How in the world can he reach Shaun and let him know it’s okay to come back from whatever is terrorizing him?
Shaun thrashes, shouting hoarsely, panting for breath, and Desmond nearly loses his grip. Instead he doubles his efforts, pressing his lips briefly to that sweaty brow. “God dammit.” Truth is he’s just a bit scared, he never realized just what Shaun had done for him in the past but he tries it now as he clutches to the fabric of the redhead’s shirt, his other hand running through sweat slicked hair slowly. “Don’t you give up on me yet, Shaun,” He breathes out fiercely, taking a calming breath and closing his eyes to instead cradle this tormented man he cares deeply for.
“…I’m right here,” The words are whispered just as fingers grip at his shirt harder and he feels Shaun’s breathing even out slowly. “Promise.”
A smile spreads slowly on his lips and without giving the historian room for words he ducks his head down and steals a brief kiss. The grip at his shirt eases only briefly and slowly he draws away, foreheads pressed together. “Welcome back Shaun.” Those eyes peer up at him in the darkness and for a moment he expects to be faced with a witty retort about how oddly nice he’s being. Instead, there are tears catching in the corners that he can see and the other man is drawing in a steadying breath.
He only tightens his grasp.
“I’ve got you Shaun. I’ve got you.”
Disgusting, gross ugly sobbing on my part. Sweet jesus you emotion-pulling monster. UGHHHH I love you so hard.