#ac rogue fanfic

[gococogo]

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 3

Pt. 2 | Pt. 4

Synopsis: After two more weeks, Haytham runs into Shay unexpectedly. Shouldn't he be far out at sea? What is he doing back in New York?

Word Count: 1.8K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue/Coming of Age/Young Love

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Underaged drinking

Birch never found out about that little outing. After Haytham had written in his journal, he went and cleaned himself up. He tried his best but he got it done before Birch came back. He had been looking for Haytham and so on the spot, the boy had lied.

“I wasn’t anywhere,” Haytham had responded. “I was here.”

Birch had not liked that answer. The next two weeks Haytham was not let out of Birch’s sight. Everywhere he went, every room he walked into, Haytham had to be at his side. It was worse than before.

It’s a Saturday night at the Greenwich Tavern and it is filled to the brim with drunkards. But apparently this is a perfect place for Birch to talk to some acquaintances about business. Haytham sits at a separate table to himself though, but he is still within Birch’s sight.

He kicks his feet under the chair with his face in his palms. They’ve only just started talking so it’s probably going to be all night that he’s stuck here. From where he’s sitting, Haytham has a good view of what the bar tender is doing behind the counter.

How there’s also a pistol sticking from under the bar. How there’s some special looking drinks that aren’t on the shelf behind the counter as well. And how there’s a little boy down there stealing a bottle from the bar.

Haytham sits up straight as he watches a hand wrap around a bottle and take it down. Then, a boy he knows, sneaks out from behind the bar, past the tender and into the tavern. He rushes past tables before sneaking under one, then shooting for the back door to the tavern. He knows the boy. He just can’t place where he’s seen him before.

A quick glance towards Birch’s way and Haytham is jumping from his seat. What has him so rebellious suddenly when he was never like this in London? Haytham will never know. But it may be the new atmosphere and the different people. And curiosity will run deep in Haytham until he comes of age.

He rushes past the same tables and out the back door where the boy went. Out in the dark, it’s quite hard to see. But Haytham spots the boy sitting next to a tree stump quite easily. Slowly, he walks over until the other notices him.

“Shay?”

Once closer, Haytham can spot the bruises and cuts all over Shay’s tattered form. Is clothes are not the ones he left in, hand me downs that look as if they’ve gone through worse than him. Isn’t he meant to be on a voyage with his father? They should be out far at sea at this point in time. Not here in New York.

Shay looks to him with a little uncertainty, as if he doesn’t know who he is at first. But realization widens his eyes before he frowns in annoyance within the same second.

“Are you okay?” Haytham asks.

Shay pops open the bottle of whatever he has and takes a quick swig of it. He scowls and snarls at the taste.

“No,” Shay sniffles, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears.

A pit of worry settles into Haytham gut. He stands there watching as Shay takes another disgusted swig from the bottle.

“What happened?” Haytham asks as his eyes never leave the bottle.

Shay’s lip quivers as his glassy eyes stare at him. “My father is-“ His voice chokes off into a sob.

He goes for another drink but Haytham snatches the bottle from Shay’s hand. He holds it to his chest so the other can’t reach out and grab it. But Shay only stares at him again with tears flowing down his face.

“This isn’t right,” Haytham says.

“I don’t care,” Shay cries out.

He stands up suddenly and gets into Haytham’s personal space, trying to pry the bottle form his hands.

“Stop it!” Haytham snaps as he pushes Shay away easily.

Shay stumbles backwards but doesn’t fall over. Haytham does the only thing he can think of at current. And that’s to throw the bottle into the side of the stump. Glass and liquor splash everywhere and Shay is speechless. Haytham may have exaggerated a bit, but it got his point across. But Shay doesn’t shout or argue. He turns bleak, his eyes becoming glazed over.

He sits on the stump and cries into his hands. Haytham swallows thickly. Honestly, he doesn’t know what to do in these predicaments. Anytime he has had to cry to himself, he does it alone in his room. Birch doesn’t need to see that, and he’s never seen him cry either.

Haytham sits on the stump next to Shay instead. He looks down at the ground as he grips the edge of the wood.

“What happened?” He asks again.

Only because he heard somewhere that talking about things helped. His neighbours next door said such a thing, but not to his face. He overheard them talking about it, how it’s relieving and refreshing. How it’s meant to take a weight off your shoulders. Writing into his journal helps him. It’s almost like talking to someone but not as quite.

Birch doesn’t pry into there, letting him have that privacy for the boy. Which Haytham is very thankful of. Otherwise he would have never of been able to come to America with him if he found out about all the things he’s done in London.

Haytham waits patiently for Shay. The boy hiccups and wipes away his tears the best he can but his face is still a wet mess. He looks much younger than he is, a small, hurt boy that just wants a hug or a shirt to cry on. 

“Our ship crashed,” he finally answers.  “All lost to the sea.”

“Your father?”

“Dead.”

The bluntness of the word strikes something in Haytham, he isn’t too sure of. Later down the line he finds it that it was because of his owner father’s passing. Something he hadn’t spoken of much or thought of.

“Oh,” is all Haytham is able to admit out.

It’s not at all grand when the conversation comes to a stand still. Shay sniffles and he seems to retreat to his head as he stares off in space. Haytham tries to think of something to say. Anything really. He knows a similar pain to what Shay is feeling right now. Haytham may not of acted out as such when his own father had died, but his feelings were as strong.  

“A boy shouldn’t have to lose to his father. I know what you’re going through,” he says quietly, Haytham’s voice all but a whisper.

But in the night, in the little back court they are in, the sound travels to Shay’s ears. Wet brown eyes look to him. Haytham only nods as he fiddles with his sleeves.

Yet, before Haytham can say another thing. Go on a spew of what he thinks will help Shay, he hears a commotion from inside. Haytham is quick to his feet.

He waits for Birch to come barging out the back door, shouting and screaming his name. He waits for Birch to come up to him and pinch his ear, dragging him all the way back to their motel like those maids do back home. But no one comes through that door, and the yelling and shouting continues.

Shay is on his feet now, already walking back towards the tavern. Haytham follows, his curiosity snatching him back up like a hawk on a rabbit and taking him to that door.

Luckily, the both aren’t noticed re-entering the tavern from the back door. To Haytham’s knowledge.

All eyes are on a pair of fools shouting at each other in the middle of the building. The scrawnier of the pair is being held up to his tippy toes by the much larger man. But he isn’t backing down, shouting his head off. His words slur so badly that Haytham doesn’t think he’s even speaking the King’s English.

Haytham and Shay get caught up in standing out in the middle of the tavern that they don’t see the storm coming their way. Birch grabs Haytham by the upper arm and pulls him away suddenly from Shay. Just like he did with those boys when they first arrived. Haytham shouts out in protest, instantly grabbing onto Birch to try and pry his fingers from digging into his bones. But it only causes him to hold on tighter.

He holds on so tight it brings tears to Haytham’s eyes. He knows there will be a bruise there in the morning to come.

Birch opens his mouth to shout but his face turns up into a scowl. As if something dead just travelled up his nose and died. He sniffs Haytham’s sleeve and recoils with a snarl. Like a dog would to something sour. Whatever he was going to say before, only comes out tenfold.

“Haytham. I am truly disappointed in you,” Birch seethes.

He’s smelt the alcohol on him. Some of it must have splashed onto him without him even noticing.

“Sir, I-“

“Shut it!” Birch hisses through clenched teeth.

Glass shatters behind Birch as the fight between the two break out. But the man isn’t paying them any mind. His full attention is on Haytham and all the Kenway wants to do is go back home. Home to London and sleep in his own bed.

Haytham looks to Shay and unlike the other boys, he hasn’t ran off. Nor does he have a look of fear upon his dirty features. He looks to Birch with a fire that is pure determination. One that has Birch taken off guard for a mere split second.

“You taking him out to drink some?” Birch snaps.

“No,” Shay says darkly.

“I didn’t drink a drop, sir,” Haytham protests, wanting to take the tension off of Shay.

But Birch doesn’t budge. Shay’s energy turns to something of a cornered dog. Ready to bite. And Birch isn’t playing with that. He pulls Haytham more to his side, away from Shay.

“If I see you around this part of town again, I’ll have you arrested and hung boy,” Birch threatens deeply.

Shay screws up his face and throws his hands up in surrender. He plays along, giving a fake smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. This isn’t the boy that was sobbing on the tree trunk a minute ago. A darker side to this boy, like a switch is flipped in his head.

“You won’t,” he seethes.

Then Shay is leaving through the back door. The ruckus going in the tavern feels a lot like the inside of Haytham’s mind. He yanks himself from Birch’s hold and pouts his way back to his table with only one thought on his mind.

That this entire trip is going to be one long living hell and he’ll never be able to make any sort of friends. That he might have to give a listen to Birch’s conversations and business to get some sort of entertainment out of this business trip. But to a boy his age, that all seems proper boring.   

[konnisart]

"𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖆 𝖁𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊"

-𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴-

A little gift for @wyyvernn 🥰. I FREAKING LOVE YOUR VAMPIRE HAYTHAM FANFICTION !

Just so you know everyone,there is more vampire Haytham coming and no one can stop me 🫠🫡😈I AM OBSESSED!

I have a second version where the other character has hair ,well for reasons 🫢😏 and few extra,like process thingies I remembered to record lol.

[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

[carissimipaixao]

For the Christmas prompts- could please I get protection with Shay Cormac? Happy holidays!! Thank youuu!!

─ PROTECTION

published on: january 25, 2023 requested by: @littlemisscare-all pairing: shay cormac & reader word count: 800+ note: submitted during the christmas inbox!

Since the very first moment that you met Shay Cormac, your life changed.

You often assisted the Finnegans’ — your neighbors — and it was during one of those days that their son’s boss and his men dragged a body inside, which you initially thought to be more dead than alive, upon spotting the blood and ugly bruise on the stranger’s head, along with a long cut from his forehead to below his right eye.

From then on, the list of tasks and chores that you did around the house grew ever so slightly to accommodate the stranger, to help him heal and get better as soon as possible — as it was requested by the Colonel. You did not know why he brought a wounded sailor or soldier to the house of two average citizens with little to no connection to the Royal Navy or His Majesty King George II, and you did find it confusing and odd.

When the house was attacked by a bunch of gang members, pushing Barry onto the floor, breaking the dishes and terrifying Cassidy. Even when they were chased away, after receiving a beating from your wounded patient, the threats that they left behind crawled inside your head and burned fear into your heart. Cassidy believed that it would be the safest if you were to remain with them, but you thought otherwise. You had never considered yourself to be the bravest soul, and thus, you ran from the danger.

But, you could never kill the paranoia and the dread. Everywhere you went, it seemed like the eyes of the gangs in New York followed your every move, watched you as you slept. Little by little, you thought yourself to be going insane.

Then, it happened — proving your suspicions.

On a nightly walk to your house, after handing Cassidy the groceries that the elderly couple needed inside their home for the following morning, you were stopped by a familiar face, whose nose had been crooked and broken since that fateful day. The man gave you a nasty grin, lips curled up like a wolf, and, pulled by your wrist by a strong grip, the man took you towards the docks. I hope you like swimming, miss, he had told you. Because that’s the last thing you’ll do.

A gag around your mouth and wrists bound together, you found yourself inside a ship — the name Serenity engraved on the back — and tossed inside a storage room. You heard the whispers and laughter as you walked on board, as those men cloaked in yellow and white spoke of your doom. She’s such a pretty thing. It’ll be a shame to toss her into the sea!

Hours have passed since the ship left the docks of New York. Since then, you have begun to pray to a higher being, someone who could save you from those monsters that had decided to kill you. For what purpose? You cannot help, however, but think that they are trying to get revenge through you, for their losses and the humiliation. When the ship shakes aggressively, the shouts begin and the bell rings, you close your eyes to stem the flow of tears.

You are certain that your death is coming. Then, when everything begins to die down, the clash of swords and the sound of gunshots decreasing, the door to the storage room rattles and you tremble. 

After a few more attempts, the door is ultimately kicked open, thus breaking the lock. Amongst the smoke and death that lies on the other side, a tall silhouette stands in the doorway, sword and dagger unsheathed. Half a beat of silence, and the figure approaches you as it puts the sword away. Your name comes out of your savior in a breathless whisper, as if suddenly frightened.

Shay kneels down in front of you, eyes frantic as they look over your face and body — searching for any wound. His eyes darken at the sight of your damp skin and red eyes, and he swiftly cuts the rope around your wrists with his dagger, before putting it away. ‘You’re safe now,’ he tells you as he takes the gag from your mouth. ‘Let’s get you out of here, lass.’

‘Shay,’ you call for him. You find yourself incapable, however, of getting up, tucked as you were in the corner of the room, arms around your knees. You feel your eyes water once more. You feel guilty for his troubles, but, most importantly, you wonder how he found you. It feels as if your roles have been reversed; in the beginning, you took care of him and made sure he got to his feet. It was a rocky journey, but, inevitably, Shay was out of the Finnegans’ house. And, now, he has saved you, rescued you from a certain death by the hands of the same men that had endangered you months ago.

Something shifts in your chest—no, you conclude. It’s only growing. You have often shoved the attraction for the Irishman, thinking of it as improper while you were tending to his wounds. There isn’t anything wrong if you acknowledge those feelings now, is there? You don’t know where his heart lies, but you are certain of yours.

His stare softens. Gently, he speaks. ‘Nobody will hurt you now. I won’t let them.’

And, since that moment, everything changes.

[demigoddessqueens]

love letters

read on ao3 // ongoing series

Using Irish language for this lad 🍀 who makes his own luck

Mo grá,

I must say that the little number you left for Haytham’s letters left him quite flustered. Though I am a bit jealous of your affections.

The Morrigan misses you at her helm, but not as much as I yearn for you.

Sweetest lass, the wind blows so soft it reminds me of you threading through my hair. The ocean is your temperament that I’ve always admired you for.

Don’t fret, for I will be back to you soon.

Signed,

The one who carries you in his heart,

Shay Patrick Cormac

[rogue-centric]

Unhinge Your Jaw and Go For the Throat

Cross-posted to AO3

MATURE/EXPLICIT RATING: graphic descriptions of violence, torture, injury, blood, and gore. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

This is for @especiallyhaytham because they just so happened to post about corrupt!shay while i was cracking my fanfic knuckles, so i pulled this prompt out of the deep, dark corner and dusted it off. It may be just a little dip-my-toes into this AU, but tonight we eat like kings.

"Alternate timeline Shay, where he lets his sense of justice become infected by vengeance? Shay who buries his conscience and gladly becomes the monster everyone expects him to be? Shay giving in to anger instead of realizing his grief, and ending anyone who ever crossed him with cold callousness? Grand Master Cormac (!!) sitting on his bloody throne like a whore, the man he once was long forgotten as he's transformed into the very thing he sold his soul to destroy?"

Summary:

The Brotherhood decided to take a strike at the Templar manifests, and the Grandmaster has no choice but to send out his war dog to rectify this disaster.

Words: 1,801

        Shay's breath is shallow, sounding ragged as it echoes off the rotting wood of the cabin around him. His arms are shaking where they're braced against the table, and dull pain is beginning to bloom across his raw knuckles. Vibrant scarlet covers his hands, and for a moment he's entranced by the look of it under the faint light being filtered through the cracks of this shit-hole. His attention is returned to reality when he hears a low, pained groan behind him. 

        Standing up straight, Shay turns around to face the bound man lying on the ground. His face is lying in a pool of blood collected on the floorboards beneath his bruised and split face. His eyes are nearly swollen shut as he makes a desperate attempt to reposition his beaten body. The man stills when he hears the dull thuds of approaching footfalls.

        Shay crouches down in front of the man, reaching out to take his bloodied face in his hand. The man flinches. "This is your last chance." Shay's voice is low and hoarse, "You can either tell me where your little friend is, or I can take those papers off his corpse."

        The man doesn't say anything, nor does he move. He remains still underneath Shay's looming form. The Templar sits there for a moment, silently counting down in his mind, giving this Assassin a final chance to say something, point him somewhere, but nothing comes. Shay lowers his head, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Shame." He mutters, standing up.

He looks at the broken Assassin at his feet before drawing his pistol.

BANG.

        The Assassin goes limp on the floor, a dark outline of crimson covering the floor around his body. Shay turns away without a second thought and steps out of the run-down shack. There is a thin layer of snow beginning to blanket the ground outside, and the Templar's breath fogs gently as he lets out a long exhale. 

"Well, that certainly didn't take you long." The chided remark from Master Jack Weeks broke the silence of the landscape.

Shay turned his head to look at Jack, "It's called being efficient." 

"If you consider murdering our only lead efficient." Jack crossed his arms. 

"He wasn't going to talk, anyway. Just another dead end and loose thread that would have caught on something else." Shay said dismissively.

"That's true." Jack hummed, "It just sounded a little more...how should I say it...imaginative this time 'round."

Shay grunted in reply, crouching down to grab a handful of freshly fallen snow to rub across his hands. The fresh blood ran off his fingers to fall onto the ground below him as the snow soothed the burning feeling under his skin.

Jack eyed him cautiously, "So, considering this was our last option, what do you propose we do now? The Grandmaster will want those documents back."

Shay shook his hands out before standing, "Don't look so out of sorts, Master Weeks, we haven't run out of rats to chase just yet."

Jack's eyebrows lifted above the rims of his spectacles, "What's on your mind?" 

"Whoever has those documents can't be far off from their friend over there, and with this fresh snow, we've got all the advantage." Shay said, glancing around at the landscape, "There's a supply cache about a mile north of here. I say we start heading there and see what we can pick up on the way."

Jack considered the other Templar's words, "You're sure they'd go that way?"

"We've got him on the run now. Even us catching this one was nothing more than a misstep." Shay gestured a thumb to the abandoned shack behind them. "Didn't expect us to catch on so fast."

"I do suppose they're not expecting an ex-assassin to be hunting them down, either." Jack smirked.

Shay gave him a wolfish grin, "Exactly."

~~~~

        There is nothing quite like the first snowfall of the winter season. The landscape is always far more quiet than usual, the soft flakes of ice acting as a barrier to stray sounds. The two Templars walk soundlessly through the woods, with nothing more than the beating of their own hearts in their ears. The supply cache Shay knew about wasn't much farther. 

        The snow on the ground was beginning to thicken, and as they continued on their way, small game tracks and prints of bird talons could be seen patterned across the path. Not a hundred yards later, a faint discrepancy in the animal tracks and fallen snow can be found. Shay pauses to examine the track a bit closer and finds the light outline of a boot. They've found the trail.

        Shay begins to follow the tracks with more fervour, he loosely remembered the location of the supply cache, but these footfalls would no doubt reacquaint him with this particular route. A few dozen more yards and the boot prints were more pronounced, but just before they became blatantly visible, they veered off into the brush and foliage along the side of the pathway. 

        Gently moving aside stray branches and drooping pine needles, the pair make their way into the forest. Though the foliage masks much of the trail, there is a clear pathway from where the freshly fallen snow has been recently disturbed. Birds caw in the distance and Shay looks up briefly, straining for any other sounds. They're not far now. 

        A flock of crows erupts from the trees a few dozen yards ahead of them, and Shay's instincts drive him after it. Leaving Jack behind, Shay glides through the trees to the source of the commotion. He approaches a thin area, and across the spindly patch of trees, he spots a figure turning to aim a pistol at him.

        Shay quickly spins to the side as the bullet aimed for his chest ricochets off the bark of the tree beside him. Without a second to lose, he takes off in pursuit of the assassin. Caring not for noise, he bounds through the foliage after the man, and distantly he can hear Jack following some distance behind him. 

        Seeing a thick patch of bramble coming up in front of him, he veers off to the side and his boots connect with the truck of a fallen tree. He follows the trunk up and takes himself into the tree line. He can see the assassin clearly a few yards in front of him, and the sight of his prey fills him with adrenaline. He's almost on top of his target, but the trees are getting thinner and he won't be able to make a killing strike in time. With one last step, he pushes off the branch and sends himself down on top of the assassin, catching the man's legs in his grasp.

        The assassin cries out as the two of them hit the ground with a hard thud. The man kicks out of Shay's grasp and scrambles through the snow manically, clawing to get back on his feet. Shay launches himself forward and wrestles the man back down to the ground, dodging fists as he tries to pin the man down. Shay yells out as he feels the edge of a hidden blade rip through his jacket and dig into his ribs. The assassin's fist connects with Shay's jaw and sends the Templar back enough for the assassin to kick free once more.  

        Almost slipping on the wet snow, the assassin manages to get up on his feet. The man doesn't spare a glance back at Shay as he dashes for the tree line, and almost clears the brush until a sharp, seething pain flares in his leg and sends him back to the ground. The assassin looks down at his leg, finding a bolt wrapped in rope protruding from his thigh. Following the rope, his eyes focus through the blinding pain and see his pursuer holding the other end of it, looking disheveled and bloody. 

        Wrapping the end of the rope around his fist, Shay yanks it back harshly, ripping the bolt from the assassin's leg and spraying blood across the fresh snow. The assassin screams in agony, clutching his leg as the ground under him turns a deep scarlet. The man tries to pull himself away from Shay, but the Templar closes the distance between them and places a heavy foot on top of the assassin's bloodied leg, coaxing another throaty scream from the man. 

"Hand over the documents you stole." Shay demanded, pushing his boot down on the man's leg.

The assassin muffled another cry of pain before glaring up at the Templar, "Va au diable, marcheur des ombres!" he spat. 

"Then I suppose we'll do this the hard way." Shay growled through gritted teeth.

        Shay dropped a knee down on the assassin and connected his fist to the man's cheek. While the assassin was dazed, he ripped open the man's overcoat to search his pockets. He spotted a crumpled corner but as he went to reach for it, he caught the assassin's wrist in his grasp, stopping a hidden blade pointed at his throat.

"Ah, ah." Shay tsked. "Now that just won't do." 

        Shay pinned the man's arm to the ground, pulling his short sword from its sheath and driving the blade through the man's open hand and deep into the ground. The man let out another cry of pain, his hand clenching involuntarily and spurting blood across the ground.

"There. That should keep you still, hm?" Shay looked down at the assassin, who attempted to spit in his face.

Master Weeks appeared beside the other Templar, drawing his pistol and pointing it down at the assassin. "Make another move and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head." Jack spat.

        Shay returned to searching through the man's jacket and reaching for the paper he spotted before. Shay pulled out a bundle of parchment, turning the blood-stained paper in his hands to see the broken Templar seal on the underside. Shay looked up to Jack, holding up the bundle for him to see.

"Well, I'll be damned. You were right." Jack said, his spectacles sliding down his nose as he looked at the papers. "We might even make it back before dark. Good work, Master Cormac."

The assassin under him jolted at the name, shooting a look toward Shay and putting the puzzle pieces together. "Dieu ait pitié. You-you're supposed to be dead!"

"As you can see, I'm alive and well." Shay said nonchalantly, tucking the parchment into his own jacket safely. "And unfortunately for you, we can't let you go now. Can't have you going back to the mentor and letting him know I'm alive, can we?"

Fear filled the eyes of the assassin as he looked up at Shay. "Dieu ne t'aura pas, dia-"

BANG.

[20timemachine12]

Interactive fics

Hey, this blog has been dead for years but I'm not. :) I've been working on several different things and now I'm learning Choicescript. It's the code used to write stuff like Choice of the Dragon and Zombie Exodus if you've played those. I was writing some fics with it but decided I'm better off focusing on just the code, so I'd like to offer to convert your fics to interactive ones.

I'm doing it for free, I'll just have to limit the number of fics I'm able to do at once, especially while I'm still figuring it out. You can head over to Choice of Games for more about how it can turn out/what you can do with stories like this, and hmu about converting yours. I'm setting up an itch.io account to host them on and should have an example story up on there as soon as I manage to compile the damn thing. When I learn how, I'd love to be able to just send them as downloadable files or put them on Google Drive instead of hosting too. (That way you can put them on your Ao3 etc. for download instead :) )

I'd prefer sticking to AC, but I'll totally do other fandoms for you. And please keep the fics short for now :{

[young-eagle-1725]

It's been a while... Nearly 3 years! Chapter 17 is now up on Archive of Our Own for your enjoyment, Eaglets ❤️🦅

[prowlingthunder]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love <3

Tagged by @wrennette

Can't Take You Anywhere Ace Combat genfic between Reaper and Crossbones because Reaper is a terrifying adrenaline junkie and Crossbones was n o t prepared to learn that. I might one day write a sequel of Crossbones shaking Reaper for scaring the hell out of him.

The Angel of Music Transistor fic. Talks about death. Fic is of the opening scene because I was asked to make someone Cry. This opening never makes me not cry. For reference, the opening cutscene: Youtube

nothing more than love and space dust Star Wars: Rogue One. Alternative take of the sniper scene. It's delicious and I still love it. Tell me what you think! We'll just call this teen and up.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers fic. Yulie's mother tries to make sense of the war she wasn't even around for. Genfic.

Full House, Jokers Wild Pacific Rim, three people living in one body trying to raise a kid. Drift side effects FTW. Genfic. Tagging five folks, huh? @thelavenderhimbo @chen-qing @mtraki @mandakatt @nephilimswitchlight

[ashbeneviento]

Hello, Evil Residents :)

I’d like to introduce you all to my Village OC (who was amazingly brought to visual light by my good friend @crowquillustrate on insta🖤)

OC: Datura

Named after the sacred Datura flower (Hallucinogenic and possibly deadly if ingested improperly)

Age: 27/Immortal

Physical Characteristics: 5’3, Pale skin, Long wavy brown hair, Hazel Eyes. Has a scar that travels under her eye down to her neck from a Lycan Attack.

Background: Datura grew up on a farm just outside the Village with her parents and little brother Sebastian. When she was 18 a pack of rogue Lycans destroyed her home, killing her mother and brother first. Datura was attacked but her father sacrificed himself to save her, leaving her to fend for herself.

Mother Miranda took her in for a few years before sending her over to work for Donna.

Personality: Datura is hard headed but kind hearted. She immediately bonded with Angie, who reminds her of her little brother. It takes her a while to get used to Donna though, who always seemed to hide herself away from her. Datura CAN be cruel, especially when she feels disrespected. Does she go a little overboard sometimes? Yes, yes she does.

Hobbies: Datura likes taking walks at night, despite Donna’s wishes. (She’s worried for her safety) She’s a painter, a violinist, sometimes she likes playing the piano as well but she would rather listen to Donna play instead. She picked up on scientific hobbies from her stay with Mother Miranda, and likes to experiment with tea making/making medicine for the Village folk. Hunting.

Sexuality: Datura is sapphic but doesn’t really have a preference other than Donna. Would consider her grey ace. Likes to explore new things in the bedroom but would rather spend her time watching vintage romance movies and cuddling up to her love.

Relationships: Partner, Donna obviously.

She likes spending the night at Alcina’s and has a soft spot for Cassandra. She loves hunting so she brings the Dimitrescus the finest of her catches.

Karl reminds her of her father but hates visiting his factory (bc of the Lycans) but she learns to love them eventually.

Sal loves when she visits the reservoir. She made him a special tea that stops him from throwing up and built him a brand new boat for him to go fishing in. He calls her Deetee.

Mother Miranda also has a soft spot for her (though she tries to deny it every chance she gets) Miranda didn’t give Datura the cadou because she wanted to use her as a vessel, instead she felt sorry for her and actually asked Datura for permission. She’s the reason Miranda has came to terms with Eva’s death and has learned to appreciate the four Lords as they are. She’s getting there, don’t worry.

Other: Datura is noturnal. She doesn’t need to sleep as much so she can be awake for days on end, but most active at night. Where Donna can control the pollen to cause hallucinations, Datura does so through her eyes. Sometimes when she dreams those dreams happen in real life. Prophetic. Her bite is poisonous and causes the victim to calcify, though she’s only had to use that power once. It does not work on those affected by the cadou, so Donna is immune.

She can teleport but isn’t very good at it.

(Once she tried to teleport into the village and she ended up scaring the mold out of Miranda who was in the middle of making coffee, ouch)

I plan on posting fanfic drabbles on here once I get the chance! I’d love to talk about Datura more and meet your Res8 OC’s as well, it’s good to be back in the Village 😉

Please do not share this art without proper credit to the artist, you may not use my OC as your own.

[polaris-likethestar]

sexuality hc for some of the xmen<3

(note this is js my personal opinion kinda just a joke tbh its meant for my fanfictions like how i write them/their ships and its not based on canon soooo yeah)

logan - bi, (more into guys), i think its either comic canon or basically canon idk

charles - pan, (more into guys that man flirts w/ every living walking breathing being yall cannot say hes straight idgaf

wade - pan, (more into guys) literally canon

erik - gay, yes i know he canon had a thing w/ raven. i choose to ignore that. i know he had that thing with rogue...which ew i feel like as society we moved on from that way too quick. my hc is him in the 60s had interalized homophobia so therefore all the straight sex and his kids who he adores:)

scott - bi, (slightly more into girls) bc thats js the vibe i got idk, and trans ftm, idk i just wrote a fanfic with him once and thats kinda how it ended up going, go argue with the wall

raven - bi, (more into girls) she's canon into guys and girls soooo yeah

emma - lesbian, no u cant chnage my mind

lorna - bi, (slightly more into girls) bc vibes okay im bad at explaining things

gambit - pan, (equally into both) idk i js love that for him alright

rogue - pan, (more into guys) and in non-powered fics/hcs shes ace to me to kinda coinside with her in powered fics/hcs

bobby - gay, literally canon so yeah

john - also gay, no real explanation just gay

peter - bi, (more into guys) a good portion of the tumblr fandom agrees soooo

alex - bi, (slightly more into girls) idk it fits okay

(also logan, wade, scott, gambit and emma are poly but sometimes i'd write individual ships)

[gococogo]

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 4

Pt. 3 | Pt. 5

Synopsis: Haytham has been grounded to his room and thinks that he'll be stuck here for the rest of time. But Shay comes back, finding Haytham and inviting him out for the night.

And Haytham can't seem to stay away.

Word Count: 3.7K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue/Coming of Age/Young Love

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warning: Vomit

Haytham didn’t listen to Birch or forgive himself to his guardian. As soon as they had gotten home that night, he was grounded to his room for the rest of the trip. Which had sent Haytham into a silent rage.

There was one promise though. If well behaved, Birch would bring him along to the theatre play that they’ll be attending in a month’s time. Which, had put Haytham’s hopes up a little. It still pissed him off though nevertheless.

But in all honesty, staying in the hotel had only lasted one and a half weeks.

Haytham lays in his bed late at night. He hasn’t been able to sleep, as all he’s been doing is sleeping in this damn room. For good behaviour in the last couple of days, he’s been able to wonder around the hotel. But he can’t step outside. Can’t play in the garden. Can’t step outside onto the street. Nothing.  

He currently lays on his back and watches the hands tick by on his pocket watch. It was given to him by Birch. It isn’t as nice as the other one he has but Birch prefers him to carry this one around. It’s… cute he must admit. But if it so happen to get dropped and broke, he wouldn’t be all too sad over it.

The hour hand finally ticks over to the ten and Haytham rolls over to his side with a groan. Everyone else has already called in for the night. Birch hasn’t talked to him this entire time and this trip away has become the most boring thing in his entire life. He wishes he stayed home.

He’d rather have the maids looking over him than this. Have them pinch his ears when he’s been naughty rather than the deathly grip that Birch has. The bruise that he left on his arm hasn’t gone away. It’s still as purple and crude as the night it appeared.

Abruptly, something small hits the glass of his window with a small tick. At first, Haytham thinks it’s just the hotel settling.

Then it happens again.

Haytham sits up, holding his pocket watch in his lap. He watches the window and this time, he sees what the cause is. A small pebble hits the glass and bounces off with a small tink. Haytham tilts his head like a confused pup, his mouth a small o. Slowly he makes his way over to the window. He shoves his pocket watch into his pants before opening the window.

The next pebble hits him square in the forehead.

He recoils back with a small shout and rubs his head. He hears two hushed voices cursing and shouting at each other. Quickly before the person can run off, he looks out the window with a shout on the tip of his tongue. But it gets caught in his throat as he spies the person that threw it.

“Shay,” Haytham breathes out.

Shay stands in the garden with a bright smile across his face. He looks so much better than when Haytham last saw him. The torn clothes he wore on the night at the tavern are long gone. He now wears clothes that aren’t torn and tattered. But they still look second hand. His long scaggy hair is somehow tamed but still falls down around his face.

Another boy is with him, much older than both of them but he wouldn’t even be in his twenties. His head is shaven and he wears a long, tatter coat over his huge frame. He grabs Shay by the head and nearly pushes him over.

“You nearly knocked the poor kid out!” He snaps in a hush.

If Haytham thought Shay’s accent was thick, this other’s is something that takes a while to decipher what he has said. Shay regains himself quickly on his feet and looks back to Haytham.

“Come down!” Shay calls out, but only loud enough for Haytham to hear.

“I can’t!” Haytham replies back.

“No one will know you’ve been out,” Shay chuckles back. “Only for tonight. A party is going on down at the Waterfront!”

Waterfront? That’s on the other side of New York.

Haytham bites the inside of his lip and taps the windowsill. He glances behind him, as if Birch is going to barge through that door right now just because he could sense Haytham sneaking out again. But when no one comes, Haytham looks back to Shay.

When will he ever have an opportunity like this again. This is something that he’s always wished for when he was a kid. Someone coming to him and asking to him to join them. Not the other way round where Haytham is always asking to be invited places.

“Give me a second, I’ll be down shortly,” he responds back before closing the window ever so quietly.

Haytham gets dressed in his most casual wear, not wanting to draw anything attention at the lower part of the city. He does slips on one of his old jackets he likes to wear to himself. He brought it only because he couldn’t bear the thought of moths getting to it in London. He slips it on and places his pocket watch into the inside breast. He’ll be able to keep a close eye on the time, not wanting to come too late.

Haytham doesn’t put on his shoes just yet. He keeps them in hand so that when he walks down the hall past Birch’s room, he won’t make as much noise.

He looks unkept, and that’s what he wants.

Slowly, slowly, he opens the door and peeps his head out. He waits, listening to anyone still up and about. But for some reason tonight the hotel is pretty quiet. He wonders if anyone is attending this party? Maybe not. But Haytham doesn’t want to find out if they’re still here or not. He knows Birch is here. He doesn’t quarry in events on the street.

Haytham sneaks down the hall slowly. The boards creak more in the middle where people walk every single day so he sticks to the sides. Carefully, he’s able to pass Birch’s door without a worry. He thought he heard something but he had mistaken a weird noise coming from his own throat for something behind the door.

As soon as he gets to the stairs, the treads down them quickly. He slips on his shoes as he exits the back of the hotel to the garden where Shay is waiting.

“Took your time,” the Irish boy chuckles.

“Hey,” Shay smiles.

Haytham returns the gesture, “Hey.”

The older boy looks between the two and rolls his eyes. “Alright we gotta go, we’re missing it,” he snaps as he’s already walking off to the back of the garden.

He’s big for his age, broad in the shoulders and big hands. Like he’s been working since he was birthed. Haytham comes up beside Shay as the two of them follow the bigger.

“Who’s he?” Haytham asks.

“Oh, that’s Liam. He’s a street kid like myself now,” Shay explains. “He’s been helping me these past few weeks.”

Liam opens up the loose board in the fence for them. “Yes. Thank you for getting him out of that tavern. Lost sight of the bugger that night.”

Shay swears as he slips through the fence. What would of happened if Haytham hadn’t found Shay that night? What would he have done after drinking that much for his age? He realizes quickly he doesn’t want to think of that. He looks to Liam with a little caution.

“I’m Haytham by the way,” the boy introduces himself.

Liam nods. “Shay told me. Get going.” He gestures to the fence. “We’re late as it is.”

Haytham scrambles through the fencing and Liam squeezes himself through right after with a grunt and huff. Liam leads and the boys follow close behind. Haytham doesn’t know these streets like these two and does not plan on getting lost tonight.

“What kind of party is this? Are you invited?” Haytham asks.

Liam hacks out a laugh. “Of course! We’re not party crashers, Haytham!”

“It’s one of Liam’s friends. They’ve been out at sea for two years and have only just come back tonight,” Shay explains properly.

“Shay here wanted you to join,” Liam adds over his shoulder. “Don’t know why though since I’m guessing this type of thing would be way below your class.”

His words are spoken with some sort of envy. Something that hurts Haytham. He doesn’t comment in return, not wanting to sound whiny and snappy. So, he keeps his mouth shut and just stares at Liam’s back.

But Shay notices his silence and bites his inner cheek. He doesn’t want tonight to be filled with unneeded tension.

“I’m sure he’s up for anything. He’s here right now, ain’t he?” Shay comments sharply.

Liam shrugs. “I guess so. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb though.”

“Why?” Haytham finally asks.

Liam turns, walking backwards at the same pace. “The way you hold yourself. The way you talk is a big give away as well,” he says before spinning around again.

Haytham looks at himself, not ever realizing he’s held himself a certain way. Or spoke a particular way. He always guessed it was just from growing up in London. But Americans don’t seem to like them very much these days.

“Don’t worry about him,” Shay says, trying to help.

Liam stays quiet the rest of the way. Haytham and Shay talk amongst themselves. Keeping conversation as they pass through Lower Manhattan and finally to the Waterfront.  As they get closer to the docks is when Haytham stops talking. His eyes dart everywhere, taking in everything. He’s never been to this side of New York and the city itself looks so different at night.

As they near the docks, laughter and shouting can be heard. Music can be heard playing but it isn’t good. Out of tune and sluggish. As the three turn the corner, the noise hits Haytham like a slap in the face.

On the dock front, there’s people everywhere. A wide ship is docked and there’s people walking on and off it. Going between there and the small tavern that’s trying to keep up with the crew. Music can be heard coming from inside of the tavern, an old upright piano that is out of tune and someone on a guitar with someone singing behind it. They almost sound as bad as the piano. But the crowd is moving and singing along with them.

This is a type of party that Haytham has never stepped foot in. He’s seen these types of events because Birch and his father always turned a blind eye to them. Saying they aren’t fit for his type of growing up. Now with that in mind, he wants to see what all the fuss is about.

Liam steps into the tavern and Shay follows with. But he finds himself stopping right outside. Just for a moment. What if Liam is right? Is this any place for someone like him? No. No, he’s a Kenway and he’ll be right. He bolts inside, not wanting to be too far behind Shay.

He nearly runs into Shay who’s stopped right in the middle of the tavern. It’s very crowded and Haytham has to keep a hand on the Irish boy’s shoulder so that he isn’t swept away. He quickly realizes this is very different to all those parties Birch has taken him to. But it isn’t bad. It has Haytham wide eyed and taking everything in like if he was seven years old again.

For Haytham, the night goes smoothly and wonderfully. Shay leads him around, showing him around the street and the docks. Haytham checks his watch every now and again, keeping track of the time.

The two of them loose track of Liam for half of the night but find him again in a drinking contest. The Irishman is up against a man that looks like he’s one of the ships crew. His face hardened like leather from the wind and sun blasting him out at sea.

“Come on, Liam!” Shay shouts out over the ear splitting crowd.

Liam downs the last jug of ale before the other and slams it down on the table with a loud crack. He barks a laugh in the sailor’s face, spitting flying everywhere. The sailor looks pissed. He chokes on his own drink and splutters.

“Watch it!” The sailor barks as ale dribbles down his chin.  

Liam holds out his hand, leaning into the sailor’s space. “Pay up,” he seethes.

Haytham eyes widen at the pure animalistic nature in both of them. The sailor slaps money into Liam’s hand and grumbles away, yelling and shouting to himself. It’s a bit odd to Haytham. That so much shouting and yelling and threatening can happen without any bloodshed.

Shay suddenly grabs onto Haytham’s hand and drags him over to Liam. The simple gesture has Haytham’s face heating up and he doesn’t know why. He’s had boys and girls his age grab his hand before. He’s had to learn how to dance and such. But all of that is nothing like the electricity that courses through Haytham.  

Liam counts the money in hand and when he spots Shay, Haytham notices he begins to half it. He holds out some of the coins to Shay. The young boy looks it with wide eyes.

“Here, lad,” Liam says firmly, shaking the money in hand. “Keep it on you.”

Shay takes it with an eager thank you. It’s only a few dollars Haytham spots but to someone like Shay, this is like gold right now. He turns to Haytham with a big smile and shows him his new found prize. Like a cat showing off its hunt.

“We can go to the barkeep and get something to eat with this,” Shay exclaims loudly.

Actually, something to eat right now sounds really nice. The thought causes Haytham’s stomach to grumble and if it were a silent room, he knows Shay would have heard it.

“Yes, lets go.”

The both of them head up to the counter of the tavern where a bunch of tall, burly sailors block the way. But to Haytham’s surprise, Shay doesn’t care. He begins to squirm his way in between two of them, pushing and shoving. One of them looks down at him and for a moment, stares as if he’s going to throttle Shay. But he takes a step away to let Shay in, a curse of words spilling form his lips that Haytham has never heard.

All while Shay slams the money on the counter and gets them some food, Haytham picks out his pocket watch. He looks to the time and hisses at what he sees. It’s nearly 1 in the morning. He should be heading back soon.

Before Haytham can catch up, his pocket watch is snatched from his hands. Plucked right out of fingers.

“Hey-“ Haytham’s words get caught in his throat at the sight of the man before him.

The scar that runs over his face pulls his lips up to show blackening teeth. Haytham can’t help but screw his nose up at him, the smell from his mouth wafting right down at him. It’s a gnarly sight, one that will have Haytham thinking about long after he’s gone to sleep tonight.

“Nice watch,” the man says as he looks it over in his hands. It’s small compared to him, seeming as small as a marble. “What’s a lil fella like you doing with a watch like this?”

Haytham, for once in his life, builds up the courage to talk back. “Give it back you, brute! It’s mine!”

His voices doesn’t waver once, which is a win in Haytham’s books. But even though he was able to accomplish that, the man before him only smiles the best he can with the scar on his face.

“Mine now. Lil boy like you don’t know the worth you stole aye,” the man chuckles.

Haytham scoffs. Does he truly think Haytham stole the watch? Heat comes to Haytham’s face out of anger, his heart racing. If Birch finds out he’s lost that watch, there would be literal hell to pay.

“Hey!” Shay is suddenly in front of Haytham. “He said give it back!”

The shouting of the two boys has grabbed the attention of half the tavern now. All eyes looking at the two standing up to the scarred face man. All waiting to watch two boys start fighting a man like him.

Another shout comes from across the tavern, but the next events happen so quickly that Haytham has to write it in his journal later to recollect everything.

But, Haytham and Shay are pushed out of the way as Liam comes face to face with the gnarly man. He grabs onto the pocket watch, planning to rip it from his grip but he holds on fast. Liam snarls with spit, drunk and boiling for a fight. He dodges a punch sent his way from the man and that only pisses him off.

Liam recoils his head and cracks his forehead against the man’s nose with a sickening crack. The sound of bone breaking is something Haytham will never forget. This time, Liam is able to wretch the watch from his grip. He takes a couple of steps back, his own head spinning and caning from the power he put into that headbutt. The scarred man curses and scowls, holding his face and Haytham only stares with wide eyes. Blood drip freely from under his hands, coating the front of his shirt crimson.

With all the pushing and shoving, he never saw Liam take the pocket watch. So, when Liam pushes the two boys away from the man, his mind is only on one thing. On how Birch is going to throttle him tomorrow.   

“Let’s get out of here,” Liam slurs, ushering the two boys of the growing crowd.

Liam pushes his way out of the tavern and onto the street quickly, all while making sure that the two are still following. Everything moves so quickly that it’s not until they’re out of harms way a few good blocks down does everything come back to Haytham. And he feels a little numb. He flinches when a gentle hand grabs his shoulder. He looks to who owns the hand and it’s just Shay.

“Are you alright?” the Irish boy asks.

Haytham swallows thickly. “Of course.”

Liam stops and lets out a long, throaty sigh. He rubs his face and wonders over to a broken wagon on the side of the street. He sits down on the back of it and takes his face into his hands. Haytham glances to Shay, as if asking what’s wrong. Shay only shrugs in response.

“I must be getting back,” Haytham chips up.

Liam doesn’t budge. Haytham swallows thickly. He does not know this man but he’s relying on him to get his way back to Greenwich. He doesn’t know this place. Everywhere he looks is strange and new.

Haytham exhales loudly and lets his shoulders droop. How is he going to explain this in the morning? That’s if he ever gets back to the hotel.

“Do you know your way back?” Haytham asks Shay.

The boy shakes his head. “Not in the dark. It’s different.”

It’s quiet for a moment, both boys just standing in the middle of the street unknowing of what to do. Away from the party, New York is oddly quiet. Especially at this time of the morning.

“Did you like tonight?” Shay asks suddenly.

Haytham looks to him with wide eyes. “Um, yes I did.” He responds truthfully. “Apart from losing my watch, I liked it. It was different.”

“What are you use to?” Shay asks out of pure curiosity.

“Balls. Formal balls and get togethers where the only music is soft violins and pianos. Nothing like that.”

“Oh,” Shay thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a violin before.”

“Never?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

Liam suddenly stands up, grabbing the boys attention. He wavers on his feet before leaning up against the nearest building. And with a hurl of his shoulders, Liam bring up the contents of his stomach onto the side of the street. It’s a loud sound, one that has Haytham’s own stomach curdling and his face scrunching up in disgust.

“Oh,” is all Shay is able to say.

Another hurl follows the first, this one lesser but sounding more painful. Seems like that competition didn’t sit right with his gut. Liam wipes his mouth and turns to them as he clears his throat.

He walks up to Haytham with his hand deep into his pants pocket. He grabs something out and when he presents it to Haytham, his eyes go wide. His pocket watch. Haytham takes it a little too eagerly, a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you,” Haytham breathes out.

“Yeah, well,” Liam coughs, “Let’s get you home now,” he waves a hand as he starts off down the street again.

Haytham and Shay quickly follow behind shoulder to shoulder, not wanting to get lost in New York in these early hours of the day. Shay looks at the watch in Haytham’s hand with wide eyes.

“Nice watch,” he comments.

“Oh,” Haytham holds up the pocket watch as if seeing it in a new light. “Thanks?” He sounds a little unsure.

“You don’t like it?” Shay asks.

“No. Well… I don’t know,” Haytham admits.

He shoves it back into his pocket out of sight. To Shay it would be a grand watch. But to Haytham’s eye it’s boring. Funny how the two of them see things in such a different way. But maybe that’s what Haytham finds so interesting in Shay compared to everyone else he’s met. Shay’s, different. In a good way. In a way that has Haytham wanting to know more. In a way that makes him want to see things in Shay’s eyes.

Maybe in another life time though. Tonight is just for the young boys that don’t know why their hearts beat quicker when in each other’s presence.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Black Penny

Summary: You grew up in the hustle and bustle of a city most of your life, so you packed your few belongings and headed straight to New Orleans. You hoped to live a simpler, quieter life on the Historic French Quarter. By day during the week, you helped manage Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo Shop and by nightfall you tended bar at Black Penny on the weekends.

You were aware mutants existed, and believed them to be just as ordinary as you but only with extraordinary abilities. After living a few years in NOLA, you had a knack of picking them out in a crowd and treated them no differently than you’d treat anyone else. You had many run in’s with mutants on Bourbon Street, but none as impactful as the day you ran into Remy LeBeau.

A/N: Character Intro, She/Her Pronouns, GambitX!FemaleReader, GambitX!NonMutant, RemyLeBeauX!FemaleReader, Mutants, Post Deadpool and Wolverine, Post Void, New Orleans, Alcohol, Pining, Creole/French to English Translation

(c) - Creole

(f)- French

*I just want to disclose I am not a comic expert. Gambit/Remy LeBeau is very new to me and I’m doing my best to stay genuine to what I’ve researched online or from what I’ve seen in the D&W movie. I’m aware there was a HUGE controversy over his heavy accent/dialect and over his eye color in the movie, so I tried to incorporate both versions of each in my stories to satisfy everyone’s preferred Gambit/Remy style. (Personally, I loved Channing Tatum’s accent in the movie ☺️) I’m also cognizant that Gambit and Rogue are an item in the comics, but for sanity sake, Rogue will be a pastime only mentioned in passing if absolutely necessary so I don’t have to study in depth another character I’m unfamiliar with. (I need some brain space for real life stuff, too 😅) Anyway, I’m doing my maximum effort over here writing for Gambit/Remy, so when I do post my developing Gambit story, please, if you have comments or criticisms that don’t benefit anyone else’s appreciation of these fanfics, keep them to yourself and let the rest of us enjoy it. Thanks so much*

♠️♥️♣️♦️

It was a particularly busy night at Black Penny. As live bounce music and jazz blared from the stage, patrons dance and socialize carelessly with each other while you hotfoot from one end of the bar to the other serving up shots and beers.

You approach a man waiting patiently, his face downward hovering over a stack of playing cards.

“What can I getchya?” You ask him.

He began twirling an ace of spades between his fingers.

“(c) Kisa mwen ka jwenn pou ou?” You repeat.

The man lifted his gaze to meet yours with a mischievous grin stretching across his face. An eerie magenta glow softly radiated from his irises causing your jaw to drop. Your stunned reaction spurred him, causing his smile to widen and his eyes to glow brighter as the whites of his eyes began to blacken.

“….woah.” You say under your breath.

The man chuckled, “(c) Ou dwe padone Gambit, cheri (You must pardon Gambit). When his eyes see somethin’ so (f)dulcet (beautiful), it be hard to hide it.”

You shook your head to refocus, “No need to apologize. This is a safe space for everyone. Just caught me off guard is all.”

You flash him a smile and a wink as he returned one to you, the whites of his eyes returning to ‘human’ version of normal and his irises became a shade of icy green.

“Nobody be lookin’ at me like dat wit’out runnin’ off. You weren’t scared?”

“Of course not. Takes a lot more than a pair of flashy eyes on a handsome face to scare me away.” You state.

He laughed as he adjusted in his seat.

“Dats good, dats good.” He said as he leaned forward on the surface of the bar.

“What are you drinking, Gambit?” You ask again.

“Sazerac. (c) Mèsi, cheri. (Thank you, darling).”

You bring the gentleman a rocks glass fixed neat with the amber-red reserve bourbon. He gingerly raised the glass to his nose, inhaling the oak wood barrel scent with hints of cherry, caramel, apples, and tobacco.

He hummed with satisfaction, “(c) Manyifik (Magnificent).”

You nod, then turn to walk away.

“Remy.” You hear him call to you.

“Pardon?” You say as you turn back to him.

“The name’s Remy LaBeau.” He reiterated cooly after taking a sip from his glass.

He averted his eyes to you, awaiting your name. You grin back.

“Y/F/N.”

“(c) Kontan rankontre ou, Y/F/N (Pleased to meet you).”

You feel your face go red as you laugh nervously.

“Same.” You managed to say before scurrying to the other end of the bar to wait on other customers.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

Remy sat quietly in his spot at the bar the entire evening, only ever looking up from his deck of Mavericks to catch a glance of you as you pass him. The crowd started to thin out as last call was announced.

“One for the road, Remy?”

He beamed at you, “Oui, cheri. If you join me for one.”

You smile coyly, “I gotta close up, chief. How about this; I’ll bring you another Sazerac on the house, and I’ll take a rain check?”

You see the magenta glimmer in his eyes again.

“I like the soun’ of dat, cheri.”

You smile and nod then turn to the counter behind you to prepare his drink. You set it in front of him as he placed a $100 in front of you.

“You only had two. That’s too much.”

“(c) Pran li (Take it). For your generosity an’ da company.” Remy insisted.

You beam at him, “(c) Ou twò janti (You’re too kind).”

He stood up from his stool, and fixed his collar on his leather trench.

“Until next time, mon cher.” He said smiling while standing tall opposite you.

“Orevwa, Remy. I’ll see you around.” You reply sweetly as you feel your cheeks heat up again.

“(c) Mwen pwomèt ou pral (I promise you will).” He purred in his heavy honeyed Cajun accent.

He bowed, then turned on his heel to exit the bar. You released a deep exhale as if you hadn’t taken a breath since having met him that night.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

*I know this was a short one and I plan on a chapter 2. I’m just dipping my toe in the water here to see what feedback I get* 🥰

[twistedblunderhand]

Twst characters and the strangest thing that’s happened to them

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle: once a student asked him to help them hide some contraband. They didn’t realize riddle was the house warden, or.. you know.. Riddle. Riddle played along for a sec to see what they were hiding, and found they were keeping a fiFTEEN FOOT PYTHON IN THEIR ROOM WITHOUT TELLING THEIR ROOMATES

Trey: once Riddle’s mom asked for a custom cake for a bachelorette party she was hosting. Trey wasn’t sure if she knew who he was, but he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry

Cater: his sisters trapped him in a box for a few hours and when he got out something was on fire. To this day he doesn’t know what happened

Duce/Ace: they were both going to sneak into MC/Yuu’s dorm for a surprise visit, and saw them throwing something at a mirror and going “LEAVE ME ALONE YOU CREEPY RAT 😭😭😭”. Then they decided to quietly leave

((The “creepy rat” was Mikey mouse /info))

SAVANACLAW

Leona: one time he fell asleep in his bed, but somehow woke up in pomefiore. He has no idea what happened, but he assumes rook has something to do with it. Rook has never confirmed nor denied this

Jack: one time using his signature spell, an influencer™️ went up and tried to take a picture with him. A wolf. He turned back and immediately scolded/yelled at them for being so stupid

Ruggie: he works multiple retail jobs. He’s seen a lot of weird stuff. Once he saw the entirety of scarabia flood a McDonaldDucks wearing banana suits

OCTAVINELLE

Azul/Jade: someone did something disgusting in the sink of the lounge every Monday for two months

Floyd: that time he was used to make face cream

SCARABIA

Jamil: Kalim. But seriously, one time he found someone selling merch of Kalim, and even found a keychain of HIMSELF

Kalim: once Jamil left for a day and Kalim got the entire Scarabia dorm to dress in banana costumes and go to the Spelldrive game and raid random places. It was the best day of his life

POMEFIORE

Vil: he once found fanfic of him and neige and exploded

Epel: once ate one of those “bubble gum flavored” apples by accident and basically fell out of his seat ((trey pranked him))

Rook: neige liked one of his fanfics he wrote about him

IGNIHYDE

Ortho: he once walked in on idia wearing cat ears and a maid outfit and to this day does not know what was going on

Idia: once ortho sent him some WILD fanart of star rogue and went “oops, wrong person 😇”. Idia never got an explanation

DIASOMNIA

Malleus: when scarabia had the banana incident™️ he accidentally wandered in, and was passed a suit. He was so excited to be invited to something he just put it on and didn’t question things

Lilia: he made one of the first memes and no one knows it’s him. He’s like Neil Cicierega of the twst world

Silver: woke up to a “sleeping contest” he was apparently having with Leona by accident. There were people cheering for them and banners set up

Sebek: one time saw yuu call Malleus “babygorl” and malleus didn’t comment??? Is that normal for them??? (Yes)

[carissimipaixao]

Hello,

Can I ask for 'mistletoe' or 'surprise' with Shay Cormac for your Christmas Inbox?

─ SURPRISE

published on: february 19, 2023 requested by: anon pairing: shay cormac & reader word count: 1.1k+ note: submitted during the christmas inbox! additional note: i decided to follow along with @sunsetagain's "timeline", in her amazing comic "a ship without a rudder", which i had the pleasure to translate for years ago, where shay arrives in lisbon the day prior to the earthquake. i definitely suggest you check out her content, be it for assassin's creed or even detroit: become human, because, oh my goodness isn't she the most talented person i know 😭🥰

The last few years have been nothing but work, work, work and work. You hardly have time for distractions, nor do you allow yourself the luxury of having a break. You are not the highest-ranking Assassin in the Brotherhood, but your Mentor has always entrusted you to solve the most challenging mysteries. Your family has long been part of the Brotherhood and, along with your skills, you assume you earn that trust.

Lisbon has always been the untangling cobweb for the Templars, and, no matter how hard the Brotherhood pushes forward and undoes their business, someone comes from the shadows and destroys everything you have done. Yet, when His Magnanimous Majesty passed, your Mentor and other Master Assassins from the various corners of the city, as well as the countryside, believed that having his son on the throne might provide an opportunity to fight back.

But, just as before, something twisted all of your plans. In a matter of days, a new threat loomed on the horizon.

You are sitting on top of the rooftops, looking down at the city — as both commoners and nobles walk on the streets — when you hear the tiles move behind you. You turn swiftly, hand in your precious dagger. It is no one other than one of your friends, and you relax immediately, heaving a long sigh. ‘Haven’t I told you not to creep up behind me like that?’ 

‘Guilty as charged,’ the Assassin snickers, raising his hands. ‘But the Mentor has called for you. He said there is someone here who you might want to see.’ He gestures for you to follow him, and you do, almost reluctantly. You are not sure whoever it is that you would like to meet, considering everyone you have ever cared for lives within the city. But, perhaps you have nothing else in mind except getting rid of the Minister’s iron fist and liberating Lisbon.

It does shock you, however, when you enter the den and faintly recognize the face of the stranger in the middle of the hall, who has turned to stare at you. There is a glimpse of caution and, dare you say, betrayal in those eyes, but you cannot tell why. Your friend looks between the two of you curiously and disappears back onto the rooftops. The Mentor puts a hand on the stranger’s shoulder, smiling.

‘The Colonial Brotherhood has sent one of their Assassins to accomplish a mission here,’ he tells you, speaking in English for the sake of the stranger. ‘But, I’m still surprised to know that you are one of us now!’ He glances at the man, looking at him up and down.

‘Mentor,’ you begin, ‘who is he?’

His eyes glint in mischief. ‘I believe you knew this young man a long time ago. Anyway, this is Shay.’

You freeze, remembering younger days when you used to chase around a sailor’s son in the docks and downtown. You didn’t speak his language at the time and he couldn’t speak yours, either. Instead, if there is something that unites all children and remains a global idiom, it is mischief. You were very lonely back then, with your parents working nonstop for the Brotherhood. Besides, it’s not like you were part of a higher society and had a maid looking after you at home.

‘Shay Cormac,’ the man finishes for your Mentor, his face now morphing into a wide smile. ‘Nice to meet you, lass.’

‘I don’t—... you’re an Assassin,’ you shake your head. Trying to ignore the unsubtle way your Mentor is walking away, you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. ‘I don’t remember you being one.’ You raise a hand, almost asking for permission for a second chance, to reform your words. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this right now. You want to see the city first, for your mission, right?’

Shay chuckles. ‘I see not much has changed.’ It sounds like it was just a note for himself. ‘No need, lass, I know where I need to go. It’s not too far from here, anyway.’ He walks up to you and, in that short distance, you take the chance to look over his face. Indeed, not much has changed; you can still recognize that devious gaze and that mischievous grin. He easily towers over you, which is amusing, considering it used to be the other way around when you two were mere children. ‘You sound like my friends back home, too. All serious.’

‘Things are difficult here,’ you murmur.

‘So I hear.’ He looks at you up and down, and you try not to do so much as a twitch. You have never liked being the center of attention. ‘I’ve been tasked by my own Mentor to get an artifact from the Carmo Convent, but I will follow through with the mission tomorrow. I’ve just arrived from a very long trip.’

You nod. The workaholic — and extremely stressed out — side of you wants to complain; a good Assassin continues through with their work, no matter what, but you don’t know for just how long he was at sea. Besides, something tells you that he is somewhat new in the Assassin Brotherhood. ‘I understand,’ you say. ‘Let me show you to the chambers. You can rest here for the night, unless you have anywhere else to stay.’

‘Much obliged,’ the Irishman grins. ‘Perhaps you will accompany me, and tell me what you have been up to since the last time we met.’

As you begin to lead the way to the chambers within the den, you snort. You are very quick to dodge intimacy or anything that may stray you from your path. You have placed your work in front of everything else, really. It has been an inside joke amongst your friends that, indeed, you would become like those grumpy old ladies that want nothing from gentlemen callers or from anyone that might cross their sight, preferring solitude, peace and quiet. You can now tell that being flirtatious is also a new trait to Shay, but it still aligns with the playful nature that you know to be uniquely his.

‘Perhaps tomorrow, after your mission?’ You suggest, however. Even though you want nothing from Shay — at least, you know you don’t seek what he had implied —, you cannot help the curiosity. It has been years, and you would not mind reconnecting with someone you used to consider your friend. Besides, if he is a fellow Assassin, you might be able to gain insight into the American colonies from him. You shake off the slight shame that has creeped into your bones.

As you hold the door open for him, you turn. Shay appears to be thinking about your offer. After a beat of silence, he sighs. ‘Well, if you say so. Even if I do reckon you should have a break, I understand if you have things to get back to.’ He gives you a wink as he passes, holding the door instead — and you ignore how your hands briefly brushed against one another, the spark that rushes up your arm. ‘Let us meet tomorrow, then, after my mission.’

‘Sounds like a promise,’ you smile.

[demigoddessqueens]

love letters

read on ao3 // ongoing series

tagging moot @wyyvernn , a fellow Haytham lover

A/N - a sort of sequel to this one will come up with Shay’s letter

Beloved,

Did you really think you would be so coy as to your little trademark? The shade of rogue I gifted you, molded by your perfect lips and left by a kiss for this letter.

Shameless as you are in your flirtations, and I am no different, it does serve of a cruel reminder of where this life takes me. Far from you, and the cold nights deprive me of your warming presence.

Nevertheless, I wish to see you soon and with such a color to greet me with your smile.

With all my love,

Haytham Kenway

Head Grandmaster of the Templars

and submissive to your will