#Haytham Kenway fic

[gococogo]

Congrates on 100 follows. Would i be able to suggest a shaytham fic with a sappy but angsty vibe with the prompts,

"If I asked you to stay, would you?"

"You said you wouldn't fall in love with me" "I lied"

Thank you

Prompt 4 / Shaytham

Synopsis: Shay is reckless in battle and always ends up finding himself in trouble. And so Haytham has to be the one to save him.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warning: Violence. Blood.

Notes: I combined two asks together because you guys basically asked for the same thing. So here you guys are! Finally. Enjoy!!

Canon fire deafens Haytham’s ears as a chorus of booms sounds off on the starboard side. He holds onto his tricorn with one hand and a firm, white knuckled grip on the railing in front of him as the harsh salty wind whips into his face. The Morrigan creaks and groans as her captain turns her towards the enemy ship. Canon smoke is thick in the air and it’s hard to even see where the other ship is.

But Shay steers with confidence, shouting orders with his accent thickening. On deck, Gist relays them to whomever hasn’t heard them. Even slapping a few men on the back of the head that aren’t moving quick enough. In the heat of battle, everything can go wrong on the open ocean.

Sailing with Shay, it makes Haytham wonder if this is what it would have been like with his father.  

A round of enemy canon fire are thrown across the Morrigan’s deck. Within the smoke, Haytham can make out a couple of men being thrown off the side of the ship. Wood and splinters fly up and some even come Haytham’s way. That is the least of his worries as the entire ship shakes with such force that it sends Haytham halfway across the poop deck.

He regains his footing quickly even though his head spins. His hat is somewhere that isn’t his head, but that’s the least of his worries. Shay is nowhere to be seen on deck and the enemy ship looms over the Morrigan, a dark shadow in the smoke the curls into the grey sky. Hooks and anchors connect the two ships, pulling them together. Everything happen quickly that for a split second, he’s engrossed by the size of everything.

Haytham scowls to himself as he stands to his feet, his chest constricting at the thought that Shay isn’t in his line of sight. As if he’s some child that Haytham has to look after and he’s not a grown man himself. But it wouldn’t be akin to that. No. No, something much worse that is something closer to affection.

One of the crew members from the other ship climb up and over the railing. As quick as anything, Haytham has already crossed the deck to drive his sword into the stomach of the man. With a gasp and a silent cry, Haytham pushes him back over the side of the ship into the warm River Valley water.

The canon smoke begins to disperse and Haytham is able to see the pure chaos that has erupted on deck. Shay’s crew fight with tooth and sword, clashing and fending themselves against their attackers. He spots Gist in the mist of it all, his hat blown off somewhere. His wet hair flings into his face as he fights but he can’t let that get in his way when his life is on the lines.  

A scrawny man comes rushing up the stairs to Haytham, his teeth all black and missing. He strikes with a machete but misses enterally and swings again. This time Haytham meets his own sword with his blade and throws the scrawny man off balance. His sword to his neck is what sends the scrawny man tumbling back down the stairs.

He almost feels sorry for Shay’s deck. That blood is going to take some scrubbing to get out.

Gunshots pierce through the already tense air and Haytham’s head whips towards the commotion. Near the front of the Morrigan, Shay holds onto a man by the nape of his coat. The man tries to scramble away and kick and thrash, only for all of it to end with a hidden blade in his chest. Shay throws him aside without a second thought, advancing onto the next.

Shay takes down two more men, one with his hidden blade, the other with a bullet through the liver. All done in quick succession that Haytham can’t seem to draw his eyes away. He can pick up the assassin training still burnt into his muscles and bones. How he moves. How he’s light on his feet even for a six foot man.

But even trained assassins make mistakes sometimes. Shay turns too slowly towards his next target. The man’s knife stabs straight into his shoulder, snarling into the captain’s face. He pushes Shay back, twisting and driving the knife in deeper. Shay shouts loudly, trying to push the other off but to no avail. They tussle and try to overthrow the other until the hefty man decides enough is enough, and throws both of them over the side of the Morrigan.

Haytham moves quick, slashing and driving his sword into any man that isn’t of the Morrigan’s. He pushes a man aside, uncaring who they are as he finally reaches the side of the ship. He looks over, almost hauling himself over at how desperate he’s moving. His heart is in his in his throat and it hammers loudly within his ears. He finds himself not thinking straight as he looks down.

And holding on by one of the canon windows is Shay. He meets eyes with Haytham and can’t help but smile up to him. Haytham can only frown though, his heart still racing in his chest. What an idiot. An absolute fool! Haytham scowls to himself before pushing off the railing. He goes to speak to Shay, but instead pushes his way through the crowd once more to get to the lower decks. All to save this man from falling into the River Valley himself.

-

By the time Haytham is able to drag Shay back aboard and make sure he is uninjured, the fighting above has all but subsided. Gist’s voice can be heard barking and snapping orders around to the crew, telling them to tie up the ones they’ve captured and to throw the dead overboard. Not their dead though, the Morrigan’s dead will be given a proper funeral before being cast over to the sea.

The knife still sticks out of the Irishman’s shoulder as he sits within the confines of his quarters with the ship medic. He’s a large burly man that goes by the name, Cassidy. For a man his size, his fingers are nimble as they get to work. Haytham flinches inwardly as the knife is pulled from Shay’s shoulder.

The butcher has Shay sitting in front of his war map table. Everything that was displayed has been put aside to make room for the medical supplies. His coat and shirt are quickly torn down to his waist as soon as the knife is out. Shay’s face is screwed up in pain, but he holds his tongue. Only because Haytham stands on the other side of the table with his arms crossed over his chest. A deep-set frown on his feature that is akin to a disappointed parent.

Shay tries his best to avoid looking in the direction of the Grandmaster. But he can’t help himself. Even through his squinted and scowled ridden face, he peers in Haytham’s direction. Shay will have to admit to himself, he’s never seen the man so terrified in his life. That the expression that he saw plain as day on the Grandmaster’s face, an expression that has truly sent a pit of something heavy deep within his chest that flutters every so often.

When the first stitch goes through, a deep groan escapes Shay’s throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that Cassidy works quickly so this is over and done with. When he opens his eyes again, a short glass of golden whiskey is being held out to him. He stares at it a moment, looking up at the owner of the hand even though he knows who stands before him.

How long was he holding himself still for? Long enough for Haytham to pour him a drink?

Haytham raises a brow, as if asking if he even wants it. Shay takes it with some urgency and downs it in one go. Haytham watches him grimaces at the burn of the whiskey with a satisfied look before moving away to pour a second glass. This one he takes himself. A need to try and calm his still bristling nerves that buzz under his skin. He pours a third, handing this one out to Shay again. And like before, the Irishman downs it in one go. Haytham moves off satisfied.

The whiskey seems to dull the pull and poke of the needle and stitches but a few groans still escape Shay’s mouth. Haytham can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the other man. Hair a mess, skin bruised and battered with the strong smell of sweat and blood in the air.

Cassidy bites the last stitch off and wipes his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. It isn’t sanitary in the slightest, but he guesses it will do with the rest of the golden whiskey being poured over the wound. Shay bites back a yowl deep within his throat, his eyes looking as if they’re about to pop out of their sockets. He sits back in the chair heavily, pushing Cassidy’s hand away with the whiskey. The butcher looks to him with a glare before drawing the last mouthful of whiskey left out of the bottle.

“I know you won’t listen to me you buffoon,” Cassidy starts as he stands. “but don’t put any strain on those stitches,” he scowls.

“Aye, aye,” Shay mocks.

Cassidy rolls his eyes as he packs up his things. He leaves the cabin with a short nod towards Haytham, bidding him fair well. Haytham looks back to Shay who shrugs on his shirt with a wince. There’s something on Shay’s mind. His gaze a far and anywhere but here.

“That was foolish of you,” Haytham comments.

The words don’t seem to register with Shay until a few passing moments later. His brown eyes land on Haytham with a raised brow and slight hum coming from his lips. He catches the Grandmaster’s gaze flickering down to his gut where his stomach is still exposed. It’s only for a moment, but he catches it all the same.

“Getting stabbed?” Shay asks.

“Letting your guard down,” Haytham corrects with a flick of his finger.

He moves around the table to Shay and leans down slightly so that he can undo the last button of his vest. He takes it off Shay without a word, patting it down before holding an arm out to him. Shay eyes him, as if something clicking behind those dark eyes. He takes the gesture, placing one arm through the hole as Haytham helps him dress again.

It silent for a moment as Shay does up the buttons to his vest. Haytham finds himself watching, making sure that the captain is decent again. Or maybe he wants to make sure that Shay is able to do it just fine. When Shay does up the last button, he finally moves off with a satisfied nod.

“You said you wouldn’t fall in love with me,” Shay says abruptly.

Haytham movements pause for a moment, his eyes distancing themselves for a second before refocusing back down on Shay. The Irishman looks up to him, a scarred brow raised. Haytham frowns softly on the verge of disgust. But it isn’t quite that.

They talked about this months ago. About how dangerous it would be for the both of them. About how that if they did find themselves falling, they’d stop. But here Haytham is, the Grandmaster of the Templars, falling in love for a former Assassin.

“I lied,” Haytham bites back. But there’s no real maliciousness in his words.

Shay can’t help but chuckle softly, shaking his head lightly as he looks away. His cheeks blush a soft red that has Haytham wanting to reach out and touch. To see just how hot his face becomes when he turns as bright as a tomato. But instead he stands up straight, placing a hand on the table.

“We talked about this Haytham. You’re the one that talked about it,” Shay speaks firmly now. “Insisted even.”

But Haytham changes the subject, turning his back, “I’ll inform Gist that he will be taking the helm until we arrive back in New York,” Haytham walks around to the other side of the table and picks up his tricorn that he found on the deck, “You are to stay in here until you’ve healed enough,” He orders as he places his hat upon his head.

Shay clears his throat loudly causing the other man to stop in his tracks. He turns slowly, dark blue eyes filled with curiosity.

“Gist already knows what he’s doing,” Shay says as he stands. “And this is all but a nick, sir.”

He adds a roll of his shoulder which is the worst decision he could have made. He hisses in pain as he pulls the stitches, coddling his arm close to his chest. Haytham raises his brows, looking Shay up and down.

“Maybe just one night then,” Shay chuckles as he leans against the table.

“Good,” is all Haytham says. He turns again but like the perviously, is interrupted before he can even get a hand on the doorknob.

“Sir.”

Haytham turns his full attention to Shay this time, the tone of such a simple word having beckoned him. Shay walks over to his liquor cabinet and grabs out a half empty bottle of a dark golden whiskey. The strong stuff. He turns back around his heels, holding the bottle in his good arm. He looks at Haytham for a moment before snapping back to reality.

He asks a question as he wonders back over to the table, “If I asked you to stay, Haytham, would you?”

Haytham watches Shay for few heart beats. Watching him pour whiskey into one glass before placing a second on the table. The bottle hovers over the second, Shay waiting for an answer. He doesn’t like to waste good liquor.

The Grandmaster sighs a little defeated. He takes off his tricorn and places it on the table once more. Whiskey is poured into the second glass.

“If only it keeps you from heading out and tearing out your stitches,” Haytham comments lowly.

Shay holds out the glass with a smile. “Oh, I think you’re one of, if not the best distractions around.”

Haytham takes the whiskey with a grumble of, “Now don’t go pushing your luck.”

To that, Shay’s grin only grows wider.

-

:)

[teecupangel]

Colossal Squid! Desmond and I'll give you my bones

“Have you heard the legends of the Kraken, Shay?”

“Every sailor has.” Shay answered politely, glancing at their guest.

Even as bitter wind gripped its claws at them, Haytham Kenway looked as prim and proper as a gentleman on his way to watch an opera.

Shay, on the other hand, had pulled the fabric around his neck up to cover his freezing nose.

“And do the stories tell of the Kraken a monster that destroys without any care of one’s status or upbringing?”

“The sea is a cruel mistress to all, Master Kenway.” Shay answered, glancing to his right. Gist just shrugged, obviously also a bit confused to why Haytham Kenway was talking about the Kraken all of a sudden.

“Yes, she is.” Haytham agreed as he walked towards the bow of the ship, “But the Kraken is not cruel.”

“He is playful and intelligent. He also has the habit of trying to show his displeasure using his limbs.” Haytham continued, making the other crew members stare at him, forgetting their tasks as they listened to a man who sounded like he knew the Kraken himself, “But above all else…”

“He is one ugly squid.” Haytham commented.

They would have laughed at that but the waters beneath them grew dark almost immediately.

Large tentacles rose from the depths and the crew shouted in fear and surprise.

Shay immediately ordered them to main the cannons but stopped when Haytham said, “It is no use. Human weaponry does not work on him.”

Shay froze, noticing that what he had thought to have been sunlight against the tentacles was actually…

Glowing lines that reminded Shay of the light of that device back in Lisbon.

For a brief moment, Shay was paralyzed, the fear and pain of that day flashing before him.

Haytham was still speaking and Shay tried to focus on his voice.

Haytham wasn’t there in Lisbon.

Shay wasn’t there in Lisbon anymore.

Haytham was his anchor to the present.

“The Kraken is what those who know nothing call him. The Templars though… had a different name for him.” Haytham continued calmly, as if the ship had not been kept in place by tentacles coiling all around it. There was no creaking sound and that only made Shay more frightened.

The Kraken knew how to control its strength so it wouldn’t damage the ship, only keep it immobilized.

That kind of intelligence…

“Desmond.”

Shay frowned.

Where have he heard the name before?

“The sea monster that Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad tamed. The ruler of the seas that cares for the Assassin Brotherhood.”

That’s right.

Shay heard Adéwalé talked about a ‘Desmond’ before. Shay had thought it was some kind of pet because Adéwalé talked about how it followed his old friend whenever he sailed.

One of the tentacles reach out towards Haytham and Shay shouted, “Master Kenway!”

Haytham raised a hand, stopping Shay from unsheathing his dual blades.

“Do not move, do not speak, do not even think.” Haytham ordered calmly, “He is here for me.”

“Will this be the day you drag me into the depths, Desmond?” Haytham asked, a slight curiosity in his tone, “Or will you still prolong this dance we share?”

The tentacle wrapped around his neck but, with how big the tentacle was, it wrapped his entire upper body instead.

Haytham didn’t seem worried, looking at the sea below as he stood at the very tip of the bow, “Well?”

Shay and the rest of the crew could only stare, frozen by fear and confusion, as Haytham was slowly lifted.

… before he was placed in the center of the ship. The tentacles uncoil around him slowly. There was a pause before it flicked Haytham’s hat off and Haytham simply gave a tired sigh.

The tentacles let go of the ship and returned to the depths of the sea.

It took a few seconds before the water returned to its normal color.

The entire crew gave out a relieved sigh as many of them fell on their asses.

“Master Kenway, what was that?” Shay asked and all of them turned to stare at the mysterious man as he picked up his hat.

“That was Desmond.” Haytham said as if he was just introducing a family friend he didn’t get along with, “The Sea Scourge of the Templars. He attacks every ship that shows its Templar affiliation. He won’t attack this ship though.”

“It won’t?” Shay couldn’t stop himself from sounding skeptical.

“As long as I sail with you, he will not.” Haytham said.

“Why?”

“Because that squid still believes I am my father’s son.”

[auroramoon-draws16]

Alright fellas, not a crossover, but I got the goods

Assassin’s Creed Shifters AU

Eagle vision? Nah, full Eagle at will.

I mean, duh, they still have Eagle Vision, they get all the good shit, but they can also turn into a bird at will. It’s not always an eagle, but most of the time it’s raptors. Unless you’re the Frye twins, because Corvids, caw caw bitch.

Desmond freaked the fuck out the first time he shifted, he knew about it, sure, but hell if turning into a goddamn bird wasn’t something to lose your shit about.

Assassins through history could turn into birds at will to help scope their prey- I mean targets- fuck with the Templar’s plans, and get to places faster. (Leonardo would have loved that shit, Ezio, go help your homie learn to fly)

Although that means it’s anyone who have Eagle Vision strong enough can Shift.That means arial fights, claw each other to death bitch.

Also getting kidnapped while shifted and shoved into a cage, look, it’s hard to shift back to human form in small spaces without horrific consequences. Luckily, Assassins keep their human minds while shifted. Oh you wanna keep me hostage? Bitch, I’ll be a fucking problem.

On a lighter note: bird instincts. The best Assassins have them and it can be hilarious.

Have fun fellas!

[ibnnlahad]

my favorite kind of fic are fics in which a third person who knew haytham long before knowing connor sees parts of haytham in him. that’s his son after all!!!!

[especiallyhaytham]

Y'all thirsting after Haytham and calling him daddy and writing fics about his wet mouth when this exists

[writingsofanobsessedwoman]

How the Assassins (and some Templars) would be on your birthday:

Ezio Auditore

He'd likely wake you up with some morning "exercises", and take you on a stroll/ride through your favorite places

A candlelit dinner atop a building overlooking the sunset to finish the day with some fancy wine

Would give you anything you'd wanted, including but not limited to a portrait of the two of you done by Leonardo (you'd thank the little artist later)

Rose petals leading up to your room

Leonardo Da Vinci

Honestly, he's the type to just let you lead the day. Shopping? He's there with you paying for what he can. A boat ride? Of course!

Would be sweet the whole day, holding your hand with a dopey little grin as he followed you

Flowers, your favorite chocolates, art supplies if you're that way inclined

Connor Kenway

You're very special to him, and he makes you feel it on your birthday

He'd get someone to make you a cake (he tried and nearly burnt the house down in the process)

Flowers by your bedside as he woke you up with sweet kisses

He'd go to town with you if you really wanted to go

Or ride around the homestead all day and show you some beautiful places he's found

Wouldn't let you do any work for the day

He'd end it all by holding you close as he gifted you a little carved animal (your favorite), and a necklace he'd bought one day with your favorite stone set in it

Edward Kenway

Would also wake you up with "exercise"

He'd sail around with you, letting you tell him where to go

He may even let you steer the Jackdaw for a bit

You'll likely not remember much, as you'll be drunk for most of the night

Would give you all kinds of jewelry the he's obtained on his voyages

James Kidd/Mary Read

They're a romantic through and through. And extravagant

Would wake you up sweetly, but it'd turn spicy

Down to do whatever you want, be it a picnic or drinking at a pub, they're happy

Gifts would be thoughtful, plus some jewelry and the like

Shay Patrick Cormac

See morning "exercise"

A romantic, Shay would have the whole day planned out for you

He'd sail you somewhere nice, and have a home-cooked meal awaiting somewhere quiet

Would take you back to the fort for a surprise party with a small band of folk playing music

Liam O'Brien

Assuming he isn't gone off on a mission, he'd likely take you shooting with him

He'd buy you sweets and just be sweet the whole day

Would dance with you in a clearing somewhere

His gifts would probably be practical, like some new gloves or something

Haytham Kenway

Prepare to feel like royalty for a day

He'd spare no expense for your birthday

The best food, the finest imported wine, best clothing he could find, all of it's yours

Don't think about lifting a finger, either

Breakfast in bed, followed by an extravagant ball in your honor

Jacob Frye

CHAOS from the moment your eyes opened

Tried to make you breakfast, set it on fire

Takes you around London

A surprise dinner (the Rooks set it up for him) on top of Big Ben

Would get Evie to help him with some flowers

You'd end up drunk, laughing, and happy

My birthday is the 28th this month (December), so this is my gift to myself. If you want anyone added, let me know. These are all kinda short, sorry. I've got a heck of a migraine at the moment. Probably doing some for the Red Dead boys next. And yes, I used gender neutral pronouns for James/Mary. Sue me

[awriterlivinginaconstantdream]

You told me sweet lies

And I trusted you because you’re the only one left alive

Sam, don’t do that again

[imaginaryanon]

The first half of the kidnappers’ plan had been executed near-masterfully. Getting past enough restricted access areas and live camera feeds and guards on high alert to drug, subdue, and abduct a member of the Inner Sanctum of the Templar Order without so much as raising a single suspicion would have been a feat in and of itself, demonstrating a level of skill and coordination rarely seen anywhere outside of Abstergo. That they managed to capture Haytham Kenway of all people is nothing short of impressive, even to the man in question. Even if he also finds it deeply, viscerally infuriating.

if i lead by imaginarykat

assassin’s creed: rogue, shay cormac/haytham kenway, modern!au, ~3k words

summary: A swift, unfortunate end awaits the kidnappers and their budding career in abducting important Templars; what they don’t seem to realise is just how quickly they’re running out of time.

If they had any idea who they were up against, they would’ve ran.

(fun fact this fic was directly inspired by this art done by @pandaaaaaaaaxd, since i haven’t been able to stop thinking about that pic of Haytham ever since i first saw it 👀)

[oldselfshiplady]

New fic!

Hi, everyone! I know I don't post on this account a lot, and haven't posted in a long time, but I do have a new work if people are interested! It's Assassin's Creed, and it's Haytham Kenway/Reader.

It's a bit of a departure for me, as this is the first pic I've ever posted where I don't have the story fully planned out in some way, much less written! So it should be interesting to see what happens with it.

Everything you need to know should be in the work tags or the summary or the author's note, but feel free to ask questions if something isn't answered and you want to know.

For those of you in the RDR2 fandom who are still waiting on other updates, know that I'm still working on them! But you know how it is, another idea takes you, and you just have to get that thing down and out.

Happy reading!

[gococogo]

A Fool's Life | Shaytham

Synopsis: Desmond has to dive back into Haytham to find out where a power source is for the temple. But the last thing he expects is something akin to when the Templar first met Ziio. But these emotions run something deeper, crueler.

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Internalized homophobia

“We need you to dive back into Haytham.”

A few simple words that Desmond wished he would never have to hear. Desmond stares at his father with a scowl upon his lips waiting for the punch line. He glances to Shaun and Rebecca. Yet, they stay quiet and that is just saying a thousand words as is. It’s not some joke.

“Why?” Desmond asks as he looks to his father once more.

“Because Haytham came in contact with a power source for this Temple,” William explains monotonously. “We need to know where he put it.”

He tries to not put any hint of emotion in his words. Desmond knows what he’s doing. But it only makes him feel that itch of anger inside and he tries not to let it show.

“Can’t you just track this one like the others?” Desmond asks with bitterness in his tone.

So much for keeping it hidden. It can’t help it when it comes around his father. Almost everything he says makes Desmond want to retaliate in a frustrated manner.

This has William scowling. “It will only be for a moment, son,” he firmly says.

It’s not like Desmond has a choice at this point of time. His father will just tell him to do it until he does. They probably won’t continue on with Connor until he goes back into Haytham’s mind. Desmond throws up his hands and lays back down into the Animus with a grunt.

“Fine, but let’s get his over and done with.”

-

It’s the first day of Fall in Boston and the cool breeze is an ease on Haytham’s skin. But with Desmond being in Haytham’s mind again, it’s almost criminal. He can feel the anticipation on his mind, the quickening of his heart as he spots red sails coming onto port. There’s a man on that ship that Haytham knows, and it has the man itching. Which is something Desmond has only felt when Haytham was around Ziio.

Haytham may be blind to his emotions, someone that sees too much but doesn’t focus on himself, but Desmond knows this feeling. This breathlessness at the mere thought of someone.

The worn ship docks, her crew shouting out at each other, pulling ropes and bringing in sails. The Morrigan her name is and she’s seen her years for sure. Her once yellow paint is chipped and faded from years at sea. She’s an older ship, not up to date like the ones now. And she has people looking upon her that stand on the dock. Haytham only sees beauty, a fine ship that has lasted so long. But one could say that she’s only as strong as her captain. Working hand in hand.

The captain, Haytham sees him straight away and Desmond takes him in. He’s a tall, broad shouldered man with salt and pepper hair. It’s tied back into a short ponytail, one thing that hasn’t changed with him. But he now sports a brown leather coat with blue clothing. It makes him look older and wiser. Nothing like the young man Haytham knew almost twenty years ago.

All these emotions that Desmond feels nearly overwhelms him. The animus glitches for only a moment but Desmond retains himself. Haytham may present himself as a stern, serious man but by god can this man feel. And is he ignorant to his own emotions.

The man, Shay Cormac, smiles as he spots Haytham standing on the dock. Haytham had received a letter from Shay a week ago, telling him of his arrival soon in Boston. Said note is currently tucked away in Haytham’s breast pocket, just in case he got the dates wrong. Something that Shay will never know about.

A plank is drawn between the Morrigan and the dock and Haytham stands at the end of it as he watches Shay walk down. Desmond has never seen Haytham look upon a man like this as of right now. Haytham looks upon a much older version of the image he has in his head of Shay, but he still finds himself marvelling at the captain.

The two of them clasp hands in a firm handshake that feels like neither of them want to let go. But Haytham contains himself.

“It’s been a long time, Shay,” Haytham is first to speak.

Shay’s smile is something the Grandmaster has missed. It’s the exact same, just with added lines and wrinkles.

“Oh, it has been,” Shay speaks as if all those years away are now playing on his mind.

Where he’s been, who he’s met and the time he’s spent away. All something Haytham wants to know of.

“And you’ve retrieved it?”

With a soft nod, “Yes,” is what Shay replies with.

Haytham gestures out a hand. “I’ll lead you to the Green Dragon, it’s not far.” He begins. “I’d love to hear of your ventures away.”

Course you would, Desmond snaps out.

The simulation suddenly glitches and everything begins melting away into a blue, glitchy effect. Desmond groans in pain as he begins desynchronizing from the animus. This hasn’t happened since he first began with Altair. He’s aware he dislikes Haytham but not enough to desynchronize to this extent.

“Desmond. You need to follow Haytham,” Shaun’s voice comes through the animus.

It’s very hard to when it’s Haytham, Desmond snaps back.

“Just calm down. It’ll only be for a short while,” Shaun inquires again, trying to get Desmond to sync back up.

Desmond can suddenly feel his beating heart, thumping in his chest like a jack rabbit. He slows his breathing and calms his mind. The animus begins to flow again, the simulation changing from the docks to a tavern area. They’re at the Green Dragon.

It’s just Haytham and Shay sitting at the table that the Templars like to use for their get togethers. The very same that Desmond found out who Haytham truly aligned himself with.

Shay takes a long, slow drink of his ale. Haytham hasn’t touched his, still full in its cup. He watches Shay’s Adam’s apple bob up and down with each gulp before pulling his gaze away. Shay exhales loudly as he sets the cup on the table.

“I will have to say,” Shay admits. “I have missed American ale.”

Haytham looks to the other again to only find him staring at him already. He knows he shouldn’t be so sheepish around Shay. Even though they haven’t seen one another in nearly two decades, it shouldn’t be this awkward on Haytham’s end. Nowhere as near.

“Did you find you didn’t partake in the delicacies overseas?” Haytham asks.

“I don’t think that’s it, sir. I think it’s just something about this that speaks home,” the Irishman smirks.

That gets a short chuckle out of Haytham. Something that makes Shay’s brows lift ever so slightly. A warmth spreads to Haytham’s chest that has Desmond second guessing everything. He hasn’t felt this since Ziio. A longing, a want. But this runs deeper. Much crueller in its wake that Haytham wants gone. But he can’t help himself looking at Shay with a eyes that speak a thousand words.

The two mingle and talk about their lives some more. Something that Desmond finds himself getting lost in. Shay is so open with Haytham that it’s almost scary. But Haytham finds it so comforting and like Desmond, he almost gets lost in the Irishman’s tales and his way of words. He’s been everywhere and anywhere in these sixteen years away. He’ll be speaking on one thing and it’ll remind him of another story that has him talking for another thirty minutes.

But Haytham doesn’t stop him. Not once. Not even when he grabs another round of ale for them, he keeps listening. And this is so rare of Haytham. The warmth in his chest is something the British man rarely allows himself to indulge in.

-

As the night grows old, the two men move from the tavern to Haytham’s home. And as far as Desmond is concerned, not even Charles Lee comes around to Haytham’s in worry of disrupting the man’s privacy. In which Haytham is very grateful for. Yet with Shay, he’s more than welcome to bring him around.

The entire walk, Shay doesn’t stop talking. It isn’t an annoying chatter. It’s something so welcoming to Haytham’s ears since he has not heard that Irish accent in nearly two decades.

Shay finishes a story as they enter Haytham’s house and he doesn’t pick up another once, being self-aware to know when to stop. The host guides Shay to the living room which is something that Haytham has tried to replicate of his old home. The one where everything was right and just in the world before everything terrible and malicious that could happen in the world, happened. It isn’t the best, but the lounges are from Britian, the floral patterning hand woven instead of machine made. Bookshelves line the walls that are made from a walnut stained oak, made here in America. Each book that lines the shelves is something that Haytham holds dear to his heart, but he would never say such a thing out loud. The coffee table is also oak but stained with something darker that Haytham can’t remember at this given moment.

Not when Shay, - before he gets himself comfortable and rids himself of his coat- places the precursor box on the coffee table next to the empty fruit bowl.

The small wooden box seems to hum, and it has an energy to it. Something that Haytham doesn’t know if he’s imagining or if he can feel it. Could also be the blood rushing past his ears as his heart skips a beat or two within his chest.

Desmond has never seen anything like it, but Shay seems very familiar with it. He sits down in the lounge across from Haytham with his coat in his lap and looks to his Grandmaster with a raised, scarred brow.

Haytham, unlike Shay, doesn’t seem to be pleased with it. From where he stands, somehow on the other side of the room, he walks over and picks it up with a gingerly touch. The box is still and firm in his hand, but warm. He has to hold the shiver that threatens to run down his spine and over his arms.

“You actually found it,” Haytham finds himself muttering before he can stop himself.

Shay is a little taken a back but, he gives a heavy nod. “It took me longer than it should have, sir, but I found it,” he answers firmly, that casualness that he once possessed him gone and replaced by a formality found in soldiers.

Haytham sets it down before he drops the damn box. Such a small thing that has kept Shay away from the Order. Haytham could count how many times he could have used such a man like Shay for jobs here in America. He wishes he never sent him away after such a stupid little box. But both would argue on how important such a thing is. To keep out of Assassin hand.

Without even thinking, something that Shay catches, Haytham rubs the hand that touched the box on his coat.

“Thank you, Shay. This means a lot for the Order,” Haytham says, raising his chin a bit higher.

But Desmond hears the unsaid words. This means so much to me.

A softness comes to Shay’s hardened features that has Haytham turning his gaze away. He wonders over to one of the bookshelves and takes out one of his old journals from five years back now. Dust has settled upon it and the pages have begun to fox. He flips through to the middle and takes out a piece of loose paper. He slams the book shut before sliding it back into its place smoothly.

“I have something for you,” he says as his eyes quickly flick over the document.

Haytham turns back to Shay, who has been watching him the entire time with dark eyes. Instead of pausing or acknowledging the way Shay tracks his every movement, Haytham holds out of the piece of paper to him.

“This is your next task for me,” Haytham instructs.

Shay looks to him before down at the piece of paper as he takes it. Something shifts within his eyes, as if a flicker of hope was just snapped out like a candle snuffer. Haytham moves around the coffee table to the lounge that sits across of the Shay and sits down with his hat being placed next to him. He, in return, watches Shay’s dark brown eyes dart back and forth on the paper. Said paper is a rough sketch of an artifact that is rumoured to be a power source for a precursor sight. There’s little information and it’s outdated since said information is five years old now.

Haytham knows this could take another decade to find. And he’s very self-aware on what he’s doing. As much as Haytham enjoys Shay’s company and wishes him to stick around. As much as Haytham wishes to listen to Shay speak about his journeys across seas and in Europe. As much as Haytham would love to just be in the company of Shay, the Irishman is loyal to the course -loyal to Haytham- and is the only man the Grandmaster can trust to retrieve said items.

There were at times that Haytham thought Shay had given up, but a letter from the man would come not even a month later. It would only speak of how he is still on the trail of the box and that his loyalty to the Order has not wavered. How he misses New York and how he has missed many other things. How he’s missed the blue flowers that grow in Fort Arsenal and how they only bloomed in spring. He had said they remind Shay of someone, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d write in the next letter if he remembered but the next letter it seemed like he had forgotten entirely. Oh well…

Haytham had kept every single one of those letters, but Shay doesn’t need to know that. And never will.

The look that Haytham receives from Shay is one of hurt and sorrow. A long exhale escapes through Shay’s nose that has his shoulders sagging slightly. He seems to melt back into the lounge.

“This could take me another lifetime to find with this outdated information,” Shay comments what Haytham already knows.

Desmond can hear the plea.

 “I know,” Haytham nods. “But there is no other man that I would trust to find these artifacts.”

Shay’s jaw clenches. “Is there no one else to find this, sir? Someone that is familiar with these rumours and whomever has given you this information.”

Another plea that goes unheard. Haytham is set in his ways, and he will not listen to reason.

“I can give you the contacts on who gave me that information. But I have been holding onto it in hopes you would return back with the box. This, I need for my further research into the precursor site I have been after,” Haytham tells Shay firmly but, softly.

A defeated look comes over Shay. He looks over the single piece of paper again with a deeper set frown. He lets out a sigh.

“I’ll do it, sir” Shay agrees. Only because it’s you asking.

And with that, Shay says his farewells and is off before Haytham can blink. A deep ache settles in his cold heart that has him inhaling deeply to try and rid himself of it. It only worsens and he curses to himself for having such feelings towards such a man he has only known for such a little time.

Was it amongst the letters from Shay he realized the origin of the warm feeling whenever he was around said man? Or was it when that Morrigan had disappeared over the horizon when Shay first set out for the precursor box that the first real ache came to his heart. Or maybe when he first saw the broken man at the other end of the table to pledge himself to the cause. He saw a man willing to lay down his life for something greater and for a better future.

Maybe that’s why Haytham has always had an eye watching the Irishman when his back is turned. Or reading the letters he had sent over and over again when he feels the need. It’s such childish behaviour. He can admit that to himself.

But even so, he still finds himself staring and watching the back of Shay disappear around the corner of the room with a longing. He could speak. Say something. Say such few words that he knows would change everything. His tongue feels so heavy. Even when he hears the front door click open and shut, his tongue doesn’t even know how to form words.

Even if Shay had stopped and turned, what would have Haytham had said? For once, he’s speechless with himself. He doesn’t know how long he sits on the lounge for, staring at the empty space that once had Shay. He knows this is foolish of himself, but whom is to judge him? Such a sad man in a foolish world.

-

The animus skips time for Desmond, and he quickly realizes that it had only taken Shay Cormac two years to find the artifact. He was good. Too good for what he does. Took him much less time to find this artifact than the box.

This time, there was no grand entrance at the dock. No long-lost lover type movie thing coming back.

Three sharp knocks come to Haytham’s door, and he looks up from his newspaper. He wasn’t planning anyone coming over at this time of day and he had planned to stay inside for the rest. He wills himself to stand off his lounge and wonders over to the front door in nothing but his white, laced collared shirt. He’s rid himself of his heavy coat and cloak, not needing it in his private home.

He opens the door, expecting someone like Charles Lee or one of his own hired men to come and spill some nonsense to him. He’s all ready to wave them away to tell them to not bother him until later. But Desmond can feel all irritation melt away as Shay Cormac stands at the front door with his back turned.

As soon as the door has opened, Shay turns to greet Haytham with a wide smile. Something that instantly reddens Haytham’s ears.

“Back already, Shay?” Haytham asks with the slightest of cockiness in his tone.

This has Shay scoffing a light chuckle. He unclicks something on his belt, something wrapped up in cloth and hands it out to Haytham. The Grandmaster takes it with a nod and unwraps a bit of it to unveil what’s inside.

“Despite with what little you gave me,” Shay says. “It didn’t take me long to track it down since this thing was actively being hidden away from me.”

Haytham peers down at the unknown artifact. It’s a steely grey with lines that run over that, glowing a bright blue like glow worms. The shape is odd and cube like.

Desmond recognises instantly as the power source for their current precursor sight. So, it was Shay that brought it into Templar hands. Now they just need to pinpoint what modern Templar base has it and they’ll be able to find it.

“I’m going to pull you out now,” Rebecca’s voice sounds over the scene laying out before Desmond.

No! Wait a moment. Desmond quickly shouts out. I want to see where this goes.

“Uuhhh. Okay?”

Haytham folds the cloth back over the power source and looks to Shay again.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks Shay, side stepping a tad with an outstretched hand.

Shay’s brown eyes look into the doorway with a longing, but he shakes his head with a, “I’m sorry,” on his lips.

“I do apologize for this quick meeting, Haytham.” Shay speaks with regret heavy on his tongue. “But I must be heading back to New York to find out what has truly become of my estate.”

Haytham can’t help the silent, “Oh,” the comes from him as he stands fully in the doorway again. He wished to speak more with Shay about all of this. To just, sit with Shay would be a pleasure.

“Is such a matter so urgent?” Haytham asks, his tone stern and rough to hide the neediness behind its meaning.

Shay bows his head, “I’m afraid so.”

“I see.”

“Are there any other artifacts you would like me to look into before I leave?” Shay asks, his voice becoming soft.

Haytham looks to the wrapped artifact in his hand. He doesn’t have any other leads he would like chased up his sleeve. But he wishes he did. He wishes he could make Shay stay a little bit longer.

“No,” Haytham all but mumbles out.

He meets Shay’s soft gaze, one that Desmond recognises as disappointment. Why fall for someone like Haytham? Desmond is real curious on what goes inside Shay’s head. He wishes to know more about him despite being a Templar. In wanting to know more, to see if Shay’s look of disappointment comes with an ache in his heart similar to Haytham’s. Both must be feeling such similar things, yet neither of them wanting to say such out loud.

Shay nods with a sniff. “I’ll be off then, sir. I’ll still be at the ready if you need be,” he says before he turns to leave.

Haytham isn’t sure what he’s doing, but he reaches out and grabs onto Shay’s wrist. He’s curious in his own mind on why he’s done such a thing. But he meets Shay’s eyes once more and sees hope. Shay doesn’t say a word, waiting for Haytham to say something. His crow’s feet furrow together as Shay’s eyes narrow onto him.

Haytham wishes. But not now. He recoils his hand away and places it behind his back. He juts out his chin and straightens his back. The Grandmaster of the American Colonial Rite stands before Shay Cormac, and that is the last person the captain wanted to see.

“I will still want those reports of your contribution to the Templar course, Shay,” Haytham says instead of all the things on his mind.

Shay’s shoulder slouch and he smiles with hurt on his features. He looks Haytham up and down before giving a slow nod.

Haytham you stupid old man.

“Of course, sir.” Shay says. “I expected nothing more.”

Haytham gives a nod back with a frown upon his features.

“Goodbye, Haytham.”

And with that, Shay leaves. He all but disappears into the crowd on the Boston street, his assassin upbringing never truly leaving his blood. Haytham lets out a shaky breath and returns to his home, the door once again clicking softly behind him with Shay on the other side.

Did they ever see each other again?

There’s silence in Rebecca’s end before a sorrow filled, “No.”

[teecupangel]

One more idea with the Kenways (look I ended up binging Kaniehtí:io content so I’m a bit fixated) Haytham still leaves Kaniehtí:io but he decides to leave the Templars too, just kinda integrating into “normal” society for a while, and Ratonhnhaké:ton meets him but not as enemies.

I can’t explain it but I read this and immediately imagined Haytham as a baker XD

Like, not even in Davenport Manor. Just a simple baker in New York.

Why?

Maybe when he was a child, Jenny taught him how to bake.

And so…

We’ll set this up that Haytham found out where Jenny was being held but he was ‘advised’ by other Grand Masters to forget about Jenny.

It’s not that Haytham retired.

It’s that… he may or may not have killed other Grand Masters who showed resistance to his plan to save his sister.

No one can prove anything.

They went to the colonies afterwards because Jenny doesn’t want to return to London.

They don’t talk about Haytham’s past as a Templar, of course.

The important thing is for Jenny to heal.

And baking helps.

Unfortunately, baking costs money so they needed to open a bakery where the ‘menu’ depends on Jenny’s mood. Haytham mostly handles the administrative side of things and the… supply chain side.

But sometimes he bakes with Jenny. It helps keep her grounded and it helps him…

Well…

Not heal but it helps him feel more content with his life right now.

So when Ratonhnhaké:ton entered the bakery one day, clad in the robes of an Assassin, Haytham knew it was just a matter of time before the Brotherhood found him. He was more surprised it took them this long, to be honest.

He wasn’t expecting…

“Father?”

.

Achilles still told him about Haytham and even showed him Haytham’s portrait. What Achilles knows about Haytham is that he disappeared after a string of murder of high ranking Templars happened. Whether this happened before or after Rogue is up to you XD

If you want Haytham to leave before Rogue but Shay still defected, Shay defected because of George Monro’s death and Charles Lee would be his ‘supervisor’ (it’s more like a buddy-cop duo type of relationship)

[auroramoon-draws16]

Yo- okay, so, not a crossover, but I got a cute idea:

Assassin’s Creed reincarnated pet AU

Congratulations Desmond, you’ve got an army of cute animal pals.

The ancestors are reincarnated as cats, dogs, even pigeons, whatever, they have a good time and can understand and recognize each other through Eagle Vision/Gray bullshit.

They eventually find Desmond and start following him around, at first at a distance, where Des would leave them some food given the chance, before full on letting them sleep in his apartment or hotel room.

Then he gets kidnapped.

Fuck.

Oh good Assassins are here.

Oh shit, the “prophecy”.

[helpyourselfwithcherrywine]

Knight in Templar Armor

A/N. I have terrible grammar I know, I am trying my best to fix this and do other things. Still trying to figure out how and what direction this story is going to go. Btw everybody including Edward and Ziio is alive except for Edwards first wife and maybe his second?. They'll be substories to this to explain more to the way they are.

Warnings: none really, terrible writing, btw NOBODY HAS ANY PERMISSION TO STEAL, COPY OR TRANSLATE THIS STORY. Likes and reblogs are appreciated.

Chapter 2

Rags to riches ....maybe?

Nervousness was in the air as the drive from the old parking lot to Kenway Manor was beginning to wear down Y/N’s patience. She thought that this man lived in the city, but no, he had to buy a big fat house surrounded by other big fat houses. It felt like she was going in circles. Big, obnoxious lawns that all seemed the same were beginning to haunt her mind. Just as she was going to call Mr. Kenway, she pulled up to the only house that matched the description of the house. That and the big sign out on the gate that said KENWAY. There was a booth and the guard stopped her.

“Can I help you?” Sweating and nerves building up, Y/N said, “work, I ..er.. new maid.” The guard went inside the booth and looked at the computer he came back outside. “Yes, Miss L/N , Mr. Kenway's maid has been expecting you, you’re a little late so you might wanna hurry on in.” Looking at her phone, it was 7:54, she was an hour late. As soon as the guard opened the gate, she sped in like a Nascar driver and pulled up to one of the most beautiful houses that she had ever seen. The place reeked of wealth and luxury the fountain was no small feat within itself. This place looked like a big business instead of house.

As Y/N was gawking at the house someone approached the car and knocked on her window. A older lady in her 50s smiled and pointed to the watch on her wrist. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she opened the door and grabbed her bag and phone. She was wearing tights,a T-shirt and tennis shoes with her hair pulled back The older lady grabbed her hand and walked her in. “My name is Ana, this is the Kenway house, you must be the new maid Mr. Kenway told me about, you are here for the maid position, yes?”

Y/N nodded her head, “Yes, I was told to be here at 7:00 but got here late, I’m sorry I got lost with all these houses.” Walking in the house with Y/N in tow. Ana shook her head and laughed, “Don’t worry, I was the same when I first met Mr. Mr. Kenway." “Mr. Mr. Kenway?” Ana replied, “Oh sorry, Mr. Haytham’s father. He hired me and I have been working for the Kenways for over 28 years, I saw Mr. Haytham grow up into a man and have a child of his own.” They made their way into the laundry room where all the clothes were pressed and clean.

It smelled like heaven in that place. Memories began to flood Y/N about her Aunt and Grandma. She remembers it like it was yesterday, she could see her grandma with the washboard and hot iron. Her thought were disrupted by Ana giving her a uniform and telling her to try it on. Going to a corner, Y/N undressed herself and put the dress on surprisingly it fit her. She folded her tights and shirt, putting her shoes back on. Ana looked at Y/N, “Wow on the first try, it looks good on you. You can bring your clothes with you."

Mr. Kenway said you need a place to stay , yes?" “Yes." “Then come, I will take you to your room and introduce you to the house and all the rooms.” They walked down the hallway. As Ana introduced the rooms, which were bigger than any apartment Y/N had ever seen and some were even bigger than her childhood home. Mouth wide open, she looked around with curiosity and amazement. Ana chuckled at Y/N’s starstruck face. “Miss L/N we are here, this is going to be your bedroom for the time being it has a private bathroom and closet." Y/N’s eyes practically popped out of her head, her mouth was halfway to the floor. Ana began to laugh as she turned to look at Y/Ns face. “Oh, miss L/N we have only seen one bedroom, wait till you see the whole house.” Y/N was speechless.

Setting her clothes down at the foot of the bed, Y/N was dragged out of her room by Ana and back into the hallway. “ You’ll have plenty of time to admire it later.” Ana said with a chuckle.

Notes: Sorry if it was terrible, if you'd like support me on my ko-fi

[dairsmuids]

A Deadly Performance

A Haytham Kenway x Reader smut fic (named for the mission it's set after, because I'm lazy at coming up with titles)

Dedicated to @anli-rambles my beloved, because I love you endlessly, and my life is better for having you in it. (shut up I can be as sappy as I want this is my fic <3) Thank you for being the first person to read this, because your praise actually hyped me up enough to want to post it lol

Tagging: @bloodfathers @sangheilihoes @ladysaturnsdust @amefuyuu @wyyvernn @memoriesofafallen @heiress-prime

Haytham's cape billows behind him as he strolls out of the opera house doors, seemingly unbothered by the cacophony taking place behind him. He walks with his usual air of cold confidence, greeting you with just the briefest hint of a side smile as Holden opens the carriage door to let him in.

"And how was the opera?"

"Rather dull, truth be told," comes Haytham's deliberately-flat response. You can't help but giggle into your palm at that — you know full well, of course, why he'd come here and what he'd done — but Haytham is far too busy inspecting the amulet in his hand to react to, or even notice, your amusement. He seems utterly bewildered by the fruits of his labour as he twirls the unusual item between his fingers.

"Shall we be off, then?" asks Holden.

"Aye, to Fleet and Bride."

"By your command."

As the carriage begins to move off, the hollow sound of the horses' hooves ringing out against the ground, you lean into Haytham's side, to which the Templar finally acknowledges you properly with a soft kiss to the side of your head.

"Missed you," you murmur, "Holden's been beguiling me with tales all evening in your absence."

Haytham just hums a noncommittal response, clearly still distracted by the amulet in his hand. You reach for it curiously, but he moves it away with a playful air as he finally makes eye contact with you.

"So, this is what Master Birch has been foaming at the mouth about," you say, leaning in to take a closer look.

Haytham gives a subtle raise of his eyebrows as his steel-blue eyes find the amulet once more. "His utterly inane preoccupation with this... this... prattle evades any level of understanding I've had of him over the years," he says, and you can tell by the tinge of frustration in his voice that there's something going on there, something deeper than he's letting on, but you don't press the matter. Even if you did, you knew Haytham likely wouldn't wish to speak about it.

Wanting to be a place of solace for his very obvious disgruntlement you reach over to plant a kiss against Haytham's cheek, your lips lingering upon his skin for a moment or two, before placing your hand gently upon his knee, stroking your thumb idly against the clothed skin. Haytham doesn't respond at first, his entire focus still on the amulet, but then you glide your hand all the way up his thigh, squeezing gently as your fingertips brush his crotch, and his body language stiffens up ever so slightly.

"What are you doing, my dear?" he asks, gazing at you now, with an arch of one single perfectly-groomed brow. There's the tiniest hint of a smirk flickering upon his lips.

You flash him a grin. "You just seem a little... tense, is all. I thought perhaps I could help with that."

"Is that so?"

"It is so," you tell him, and you lean in to press your lips against his, his hand trailing up the back of your neck as the two of you begin to kiss in long, slow, perfectly in-sync strokes.

You give his thigh another light squeeze as you pull away from the kiss, tracing your fingertips up and down, glancing downward to notice the way there's now a very obvious bulge at the front of his breeches, "May I be allowed to… help you with that, sir?"

At first you wonder if perhaps Haytham is against the idea of you doing something so wanton to him in a semi-public setting, but his hooded gaze and the way he suddenly leans in for another quick peck on the lips tells you all you need to know. "You may," he replies, and then his warm lips are against the shell of your ear, his voice a harsh growl as he speaks again: "Discreetly, or there'll be trouble."

And so you do as he commands. Haytham's eyes drift closed as your hand slips upwards and into his breeches. A small, restrained groan falls from his parted lips, his fist tightening around the amulet in his palm.

"You're utterly insatiable, you know," comes the Templar's voice, low and raspy, as he opens his eyes to regard you again, his intense gaze fixed upon the side of your face. You swipe your thumb over the head of his cock and he immediately responds, sucking air through his teeth. "Didn't you get enough of me this morning?"

Your thoughts drift back to earlier in the day — Haytham had given you a wake up call in the form of his teeth at your neck and a hand between your legs, before proceeding to take you in bed, on the chair next to the bed, and against the windowsill. A good morning indeed.

"I can never get enough of you, love," you say with a smile, and then you lean in closer, dropping your voice. "Besides, I figured you were deserving of a reward for the job you did this evening. This is a much better reward than any kind Master Birch would give you, hm?"

Haytham breathes out a chuckle at that, though his gaze is clouding over as he does so — clearly too distracted by your touch to fully engage in a conversation. "I should certainly hope Reginald never offers me this kind of reward; I may have to pledge my allegiances elsewhere."

Your chest jolts slightly with the ghost of a laugh as you grasp at the waistband of Haytham's breeches, pulling them down just enough to expose his now fully erect cock to the open air of the carriage, immediately reaching to wrap your hand around him, stroking up and down with just the right amount of speed and pressure. This isn't the first time you've done this to Haytham: you know just how he likes to be touched.

Haytham drops his head back slightly as his chest heaves with heavy breaths, his eyelids fluttering shut, and he reaches for the red cravat around his neck to loosen it slightly.

"You're going to be the death of me, you naughty little thing," he moans, his voice a quiet rumble that barely pierces the air around the two of you.

You hum happily at that, revelling in the velvety warmth of his cock in your palm as his hips thrust upwards, one of his hands scrambling to grasp at the back of the carriage seat while the other still tightly grips onto the amulet. It's clear he's trying his best to control himself, but as you continue to move your hand roughly against him, you can tell that restraint is quickly becoming the furthest thing from his mind.

Haytham presses his hand to his eyes, pushing upwards into his hairline and grabbing lightly, as though he needs to hold on to something, anything. A few rogue strands of dark hair fall loose from his usually-perfect ponytail, framing his slightly reddened face.

"You're a menace," he chokes out as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock again, the action making a filthy slick sound as you smear his precum up and down the entire length.

Restraint appears to be an entirely forgotten concept to Haytham now as your continued touch sends him hurtling toward the edge, his hips fucking furiously upwards into your hand like nothing else matters in life. He looks a dishevelled, desperate mess, a million miles away from his usual buttoned-up self, and you love that you're the only one who can coax this side out of him.

Haytham's entire body begins to tense up, his thigh muscles tightening until all at once you feel his entire body shudder, a long, guttural moan escaping from between his parted lips. His stormy eyes roll back into his skull as he lets himself fall into climax, his release coating your palm, the abundance of it dripping down your wrist and onto the warm skin of his exposed stomach.

Without missing a beat he reaches his hand into the chest area of his jacket, pulling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his red waistcoat and offering it to you, which you accept with a soft laugh as you use it to clean up the sticky mess on your hand. “Ever the perfect gentleman,” you say teasingly.

Haytham chuckles as he draws in a deep breath, his demeanour now seeming much more relaxed as he begins to straighten himself up, tucking his softening cock back into the confines of his breeches.

“Let me fix this,” you murmur as you reach for his loosened cravat, untying it before redoing it into a perfectly even bow. His gaze upon you is heated and intense, as though pouncing upon you like a wild animal would be preferable, and as you meet his eyes you can't help the blush that spreads across your cheeks.

“For what it's worth, my darling,” Haytham growls lowly, his warm breath tickling your ear as he leans in close, “I fully intend to repay the favour later.”

[bookworm-with-coffee]

WIP Game!!!

Thank you for the tag, @ladysaturnsdust and apologies for the lateness!! ♡♡♡

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Here are the main ones I'm attempting to work on! Life has been super busy this past year so I've not been writing as often, but I'm still doing as much as I can!

( This excludes my forgotten and abandoned drafts. I have more WIP's, believe me )

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1. The Love That Binds Us (Frye Twins x Reader) [PLATONIC/FAMILY] - Set in 1888 (Jack the Ripper era), you may be the only one who can save London from the man you once considered a brother. < STATUS: complete, unpublished >

2. Beautiful Things (Vex x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - A Grimm and Lost Girl crossover and enemies to lovers fic centered around Vex and an unlikely foe, soon turned friend. < STATUS: incomplete, unpublished >

3. The Call (Assassin's Creed) - Set in the modern day, based on AURORA's song for the franchise's 15th Anniversary, "Hunting Shadows" < STATUS: planning/brainstorming >

4. ~Untitled~ (Jacob Frye x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - Jacob reunites with his childhood friend in London after some years of being apart. < STATUS: incomplete, unpublished >

5. Just a Kiss This Christmas (AC 3, Rogue and Syndicate Boys x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - Individual Christmas themed imagines centered around our favourites: Haytham Kenway, Connor/Ratonhnhaké:ton, Shay Cormac, Liam O'Brien and Jacob Frye. < STATUS: almost complete, unpublished >

6. ~Untitled~ (Vex x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - More Vex appreciation, centers around his redemption arc and "supposedly" non-existent heart. < STATUS: incomplete, brainstorming >

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Send asks for more information or a short snippet! 😉💖

Six tags for six WIP's!

@fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @wyyvernn @demigoddessqueens @6lostgirl6 @deadlymistletoe 💖💖💖

[awriterlivinginaconstantdream]

A Piece of Eden

Teaser 1

Tears falling

Scars forming

How do I get out of this alive?

Images are found on Pinterest