The Assassin Bureau: Imagines and Preferences

The Order's Finest: Altair/Arno/Ezio/Connor x Reader

Altair x Reader, Arno x Reader, Ezio x Reader, Connor x Reader

After a long and tedious day you found yourself at the public bathhouse, tossing aside the layers of leather and coarse cloth for the soft, fluffy towel. The bathhouse was one of the most luxurious buildings you'd ever walked into, the water heated naturally by springs and skirting along the walls were plush benches with plump pillows. The changing room was warm and comfortable, soothing your sore muscles.

You had spent most of the morning and early noon training. Then you spent the rest of the day cleaning up your weapons and armor, as well as everyone else's weapons and armors that cluttered the armory. You'd been assigned the task as "punishment" for taking one of the horses without permission. Your mentor had called it "deserting". You called it "harmful fun". And that led to your undeserved armory duty.

You'd been so furious about the events that had transpired earlier that day, you hadn't paid attention to where you were going. All of your thoughts were about getting revenge without getting caught. And, of course, whether or not all of your bath supplies were in the bucket in your arms: washcloth, comb, salt scrub...

You had just reached the edge bath, setting your bucket down and dipping your feet into the water when you looked up at them. You sat down on the cold stone, expecting to see other women, Assassins and towns folks alike.

Not... them. The Assassins. The greatest recruits the Order had ever seen. They'd traveled halfway across the world to train as Assassins, impressing each of their mentors one after the other. All three of them were near your age but they had managed to jump from one rank to the next the moment they'd arrived.

Altaïr was the most regarded and perhaps even feared. He'd been highly recommended by the Syrian branch head and after seeing his skill firsthand it was truly no surprise. Sitting with him was the flirtatious Ezio, just having arrived a month ago from Italy at the request of his uncle. Next to him was Arno an orphan who'd been snapped up and brought to the Order's doorstep years ago as a child.

They were highly regarded by the others and here you were, sitting on the edge of the bath in nothing but a towel. Your face caught fire when your vision roved from one sculpted abdomen to the next. You'd always found them attractive, many of the Assassins did, in fact. But to be caught in such an embarrassing situation...

You rolled your eyes up to the high ceiling above, cursing your luck. "I, uh... this isn't the women's room, is it?"

"Obviously," grumbled Altaïr.

"Mia bella." Ezio, his accent profoundly familiar, casually waded through the water. "No need for you to be ashamed. I'm sure... it was all accidental." He grinned widely. Something in his tone was playful, hinting that perhaps you'd wandered into the men's room on purpose.

"I... wasn't paying attention. I'm truly so sorry about this." You jerked your attention to your bucket, intending on gathering everything into your arms and making a hasty run for it.

"Stay awhile, mia bella." Ezio caressed fingertips up along your shin. The way Ezio looked at you... It was hard to say no. You nearly leaned towards him, kissed him even, but you suddenly felt self conscious next to him. All three of them were godly handsome, far more superior than you thought you could ever be.

"Th-thank you. But I should probably go." You placed your hand onto your bathroom supplies. "I completely forgot to grab my, uh, salt scrub and I couldn't possibly--"

He glanced at the bucket then to your eyes, a brow rising. "I saw it in there."

"That's the regular one..." You glanced away, to anywhere but their probing eyes, searching for any excuse. "I need my... pomegranate salt scrub. It's my favorite."