#maybe shaytham too?

[gococogo]

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 2

Pt.1 | Pt.3

「Synopsis」 : Haytham has had enough of indoors and listening to meaningless conversations with Birch and other men. He goes off on his own to explore New York and he runs into a young boy that is very interesting.

「Word count」 : 1.5K

Genre: Coming of Age/Young Love

Paring: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Only a week later does it take for Haytham to wonder off again.

The entire week it’s been paperwork and walking around and talking to people that Haytham has no clue who they are, yet they seem to know him quite well. That isn’t the thing bothering Haytham though. His entire life he’s met people that know him by first and last name and they also know his father as well. Yet when his father was alive he never met them or saw them talking to his father. It seems like he knew more people than Haytham will ever know.

The thing that has been bothering Haytham though is that he has to stand and listen to Birch talk with these men. He isn’t brought into the conversation so he’s forced to stand and think about other stuff. Birch wants him learning from him but it’s very hard when the talking is just plain boring.

He wants to know how to play tag with the boys. He’s watched them from the window of his room when he can. It all but reminds him of home before father died. He did the exact same thing, staring out a window watching others play and laugh all while he had to sit around and do .

Yes, he is happy to be the man that Birch wants. But a new place only has him wanting to go off and look around. And within this week they haven’t done much of that.

So, on the Friday of the week, Haytham sneaks out of the motel. He doesn’t pay no mind to the boys out in the garden because he might be a kid, but he isn’t dumb. And if he went and joined them in the game of tag then he would most certainly get caught. He needs to wonder further.

He ventures out to the streets in his dark blue suit and frills. He tried to tie is hair back like the maids do but a good portions flops out over his face. He most definitely looks like he dressed himself and he gets a few odd looks as he passes by some. But he keeps his head down in case anyone recognises him.

He doesn’t want anyone shouting across the street, “HAYTHAM KENWAY!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON YOUR LONESOME!? YOU’LL CATCH SOMETHING BEING OUT HERE!”

If that happened, he wouldn’t know what to say but he imagines he’d be able to think up of a lie. He just doesn’t know what. So hopefully that little scenario doesn’t happen.

He comes to the markets which is along the docks. It smells strongly of fish and salt, something so different to being served fish at dinner. But it doesn’t turn Haytham away. He’s never experienced this part of living. The lower class and the grime.

But he quickly realizes that his presence may not be wanted in this part of New York. Men and woman look at him, side eyeing him and scowling at him. Haytham catches a few confused expressions as well. Probably wondering why, a first-class boy is here in the market alone.

Before he makes a scene, he finds the closest exit to the market which is along the docks where all the sloops and schooners are. He gets to the edge where a couple of crates are stacked and breathes out, not realizing he had been holding it this entire time. Maybe Birch was right. Maybe he should just stick with his class and be a proper good boy.

He leans up against the crate nearest him and watches one of the sloops slowly leave the dock. Nothing here is as grand of a ship as his father’s ship. He hasn’t seen it in person per say, but he knows it would have been the beauty of the dock here.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” A thick Irish accented voice snaps at him.

Haytham jumps out of his skin, feeling his little heart beat wildly in his ears. Might have skipped a beat if he wasn’t too sure. He spins around, coming face to face with a dark-haired man with a barrel chest. His dark eyes glare down at him like he’s a rat on the streets here. Haytham backs up a bit, his words leaving him once again.

The man steps forward and picks up one of the crates that Haytham was leaning against. He then leaves without a word, walking down the dock to a schooner in the nearest dock.

A boy passes him and comes Haytham’s way. He’s a scruffy looking kid, his long brown hair unbrushed and his clothes look too big for his body. He stops in front of the crates and looks to Haytham with big brown eyes. He looks Haytham’s age but might be a year younger. The boy glances over his shoulder at the man before he picks up one of the smaller crates.

“I’m sorry about my father,” the boy says in the same Irish accent, taking Haytham by surprise. “He can be some what of a mean one when he’s in a mood. And he’s in one of those moods today.”

“Oh,” is all Haytham can manage out.

“SHAY, GET THOSE CRATES ON SO WE CAN FUCKIN’ GO!” The boy’s father calls out from the schooner.

“Coming!” Shay calls back out as he turns and walks down the dock.

Haytham watches him curiously as he fiddles with his sleeves. Shay comes back three more times to pick up the smaller crates but he stops and stares at the biggest one there. Haytham hasn’t moved a muscle, standing and watching the entire time young Shay has been working.

“Wanna help?” Shay asks.

“Pardon?”

“Wanna help me carry this over?”

Haytham can’t help but stare for a moment but stops his stupid act. He can’t let his shyness get the best of him anymore.

Despite him putting his big pants on, his voice still comes out soft with a little, “Sure.”

The two boys grab one end of the crate each and pick it up together with a huff. The crate isn’t heavy with two of them but Shay absolutely could not of picked this up by himself. They waddle over to schooner and Shay tells him where to set it down. Setting it down on deck, Shay’s father comes over with a frown.

“Hah, and I thought you were just another prissy lil boy,” he frowns but his words feel light hearted. “Best be off before we set sail. Don’t want a lil stow away, now do we, aye!”

He pats Haytham on the shoulder before wondering off to the helm of the ship. He speaks to what Haytham assumes is his first mate. The touch on his shoulder lingers. Something he hasn’t received in a long time.  

“Are you moved from Britian?” Shay suddenly asks, popping into his line of sight.

Haytham swallows. “I’m just visiting.”

Shay’s mouth turns into a little o. “How long are you staying here in New York?”

“Around three months.”

“Oh. I come back here in five months. My father is travelling down south,” Shay answers a little sadly.

“Oh,” Haytham replies back.

“Be off boy!” Shay’s father cries out suddenly. “We’re sailing off!”

For the second time today, Haytham nearly jumps out of his skin. Without even thinking, he makes his way off the schooner. The board has been pulled back already so Haytham has to jump down onto the dock. He stumbles and falls to his hands and knees, his suit and hands becoming scuffed. He turns around as the ship’s sails are let down.

Shay comes to the railing and looks over as they begin moving. He waves goodbye with a wide smile on his face. Haytham gives a small little wave that only reaches his chest. A small swell of sadness comes to Haytham. The thought that he could of had a friend on this little trip is what finally makes him realize he’s lonely.

The walk back to the motel is slow and with his head bowed low. He kicks a rock along the street with his hands in his pockets. With a too hard of a kick it bounces and rolls into a drain, never to be seen again. That only puts Haytham in a sourer mood.

When the motel comes into sight, he heads around the back to sneak into the garden. He pushes his way through a loose board in the fence and through the bushes as well. Leaves and branches get caught in his hair and he does a poor excuse to try and brush them out. He walks across the gravel path to the back door of the motel and hopes to whatever God there is that Birch hasn’t noticed him gone.

Luckily, no one is in the back foyer or even the entrance. Haytham quickly but quietly races up the stairs and down the hallway to his room. Once inside, he takes a deep breath in.

He plucks a leaf from his hair and lets it fall to the floor. With a small huff, he steps over to the small desk in the corner of his room and opens his journal up. He must write about today and most definitely about Shay.

[semi-imaginary-place]

diofield chronicle ch 5

we didn't kick the empire off the island, they're still there shouldn't we be doing something about that.

holy shit. oh so this is what andrias was pushing for. each person as a range of what they are willing to do and andrias has been working very hard manipulating people into choosing specific choices in that range. here he used the memory of what fredret promised his dead childhood friend to push him to take on said dead friend's identity in a bid to unite alletain and stop the succession war. i wonder how they faked the mark. it is a coup! man andrias has really been rising up in the world, mercenary band under a duke to knights under the council, then kills the duke their employer and trashes a couple nobles, and now a kingmaker/puppet master.

i love how smart waltaquin is. she is deranged and bloodthirsty but she's managed to call several plot developments and probably has the best grasp on andrias of the entire cast.

wow this is the first time i've seen andrias snap, how convenient that iscarion is a decent and polite enough person to stop grilling him, how convenient that this shuts down the conversation. and i haven't seen him be patriotic anywhere else. yeah he just said that to shut isca up. really wish this scene had been voiced.

i still dont know what's up with fred's family, like why would two kids trek across the country to apprentice under a mercenary if the lester's weren't dead. oh so andrias isn't even pretending to not be lying to zoruaq.

guilt tripping izzy too i see. estalt really chose the wrong confidant. kooky magic weapon researcher is right, andrias is feeling conflicted about something.

potentially revealing leventia shaytham "lived" could have prevented the kimbly-joshua showdown, or it could have led to a 3 way war. but fredret (and let's be real andrias) have chosen to preemptively kill joshua before announcing fred's candidacy

lol prince victor doesn't even get a portrait he just gets a silhouette. well i guess waltaquin maybe was deserving of that leadership position.

i do like how everyone in this game has a helmet, shame we dont see them wearing them too often.

for as utterly selfish and murderous she was, i think waltaquin's affection for andrias was genuine. also not a good sign that she saw herself in him.

[antivancorvo]

so I was rereading a bunch of my ancient Assassin’s Creed fanfictions and now I’m painting Altair because I’m weak

[shaytham-imagines]

Submission Rules

Submissions can be your opinion, or you seeking our opinion, or both!  Or simply you sharing a thought about them you had. 

Must be Shaytham Centered.  Can be other’s reactions, or au’s, or what-if’s but it must be about Shaytham

No character bashing.  Maybe you feel certain characters would hate Shaytham.  That’s fine.  People experience anger and jealousy, characters can too, but don’t make everything about hating that character.

Don’t kink shame.  If you dislike a kink or don’t understand it, move on.  That said, if you think something isn’t a kink, let us know.  And let us know if we need to be better about tagging things.

It’s okay to disagree with others, but be respectful.  Submit your own Imagines or a counter argument.  It’s an imagines blog, these things are supposed to be fun.

We accept Non-English submissions, but we might use google translate on them. 

The mods can be busy irl, ask before resending submissions.  Hopefully we’ll have a really long queue that takes a while to get through one day.

 Don’t try to start a ship war. It doesn’t matter if you like Ship A more or Ship D more or if Ship C is more canon than Ship F.  This is about Shaytham and we will shut down inflammatory posts. 

Nothing Explicit.  Mods have final say in what is acceptable. 

[hopeatermain]

Neutral Territory.

An Assassin’s creed III and Rogue one-shot with connection with the Child of Izanami. Spoilers for AC3 and tCoI.

Rating: T for mentions and menaces of death, mourning and a precision-f strike.

Genre: ANGST. It’s one of the rare thing were I’m not trying to be funny.

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen...

Other warning: THE PLOT THICKENS. This is tying a lot of things together for my fanfic, mainly plotwise. And implications of Shaytham. Happens in 1783. And in a slightly altered universe where Haytham mentioned Shay to Connor once and where Achilles actually warned Connor about the dangEROUS MAN WHO SINGLE-HANDEDLY GOT RID OF THE COLONIAL BROTHERHOOD A FEW YEARS AGO I MEAN COME ON UBISOFT. (note: I know Rogue came out after III, but still.)

Word count: 1 262 words

None of that was supposed to happen. He was supposed to convince a branch of the Templars to give him the Face of Izanami, a piece of Eden with terrifying powers which was situated at the other end of the blog, Japan, go back to America, give it to Haytham to further their cause, and end of the story. Life could go back to how it was. It was just a mission, like thousands of others. But everything had gone wrong.

First of all, the Face was never there. There was no trace of it. Just a worn out message on a parchment, where a certain assassin named Naoko mocked the Templar Order, informing them that the mask had disappeared long ago with his lover and that they would never find it, as it was currently at the bottom of the ocean. According to the Templars there, the parchment dated from 400 years ago.

After that, even if he had gotten the Face, he would have destroyed it on sight. He heard what was the purpose of the mask. Screw the orders, he was not letting anyone become a god and control people’s soul. His decision was only cemented when he read the parchment left behind by another assassin called Chihiro. She recalled how the mask made a man go mad, and how it’s presence only brought misery to the life of her and herself close ones.

And finally, Haytham was dead. 

Everyone was dead. You go away for three years and this fucking happens. He and his men were probably the last Templar of the Colonial Rite now. He didn’t hesitate to ask what happened. From everything he had collected, a man called Connor got rid of the Templar Order in only a few years. Including Haytham. He didn’t know what to do. 

Well, he did: find other candidates to help him rebuild the Templar Order, and get rid of this... Connor. Maybe he could find allies in the government. Extreme irony for the assassin: his former allies becoming part of the Templar Order. Oh yes... That would be perfect... destroying the work of the one who destroyed his... But he wasn’t in the state for this. He still had difficulties accepting that Haytham was dead.

All he could do was bring flowers to his grave. Flowers. Wouldn’t stop him from doing it. And so, he set sight on the cemetery, a bouquet of flower in hand. It wasn’t a cloudy day, quite sunny, in fact. Only worsened his mood. People looked at him with strangely. Indeed, it was strange to see a 6′2 tall man with a scarred face and a mix of murder and sadness on his face walking somewhere while clutching flowers. 

But he didn’t care for appearances. Once in the cemetery, he started to search for Haytham’s tomb. It wasn’t exactly hard, and he quickly found it. “Hello, Haytham.” His voice was heavy. “I’m sorry, there was a lot of... unexpected things that happened in the quest for the Face of Izanami. The Face was lost and it... it wasn’t just for talking to the dead, it... it ruined lives and I couldn’t let that happen to us... I’m sorry I couldn’t be here and-” DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER

He turned around sharply, Eagle Vision activated. He knew his vision was glowing golden with flickers of red. He also knew it was extremely intimidating and that if anyone was around, they would run away screaming seeing as Shay was still plotting in a corner of his mind how he would serve his friend’s assassin the most ironic death of all. But all of his senses where screaming at him that someone sneaked up on him, and he was ready to pounce. 

And would you look at that? It was Connor the Assassin himself. “What are you doing here?” He hissed out. He wasn’t ready to deal with this bullshit. Not now. “I am here to mourn.” “Mourn? You killed him, why would you want to mourn your own target?” He knew he was being an hypocrite right now, but he didn’t care. He was currently blinded by his own fury and ready to add a corpse to this cemetery about right now- “He was my father.” Oh. Oh. He guessed he could relate to that. Being forced to kill a loved one. He just turned back toward the grave, the fury he was about the unleash on Connor dying out to leave emptiness in his chest. 

He saw movement in the corner of his eye, the native man sitting next to him. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen to your monologue.” “I must seem like a mad man. I just have difficulty accepting his death, that is all.” “... Where you two lovers?” “Wha- No! He just helped me adjust to Templar life, that his all.” “Adjust?...” “The name is Shay Cormac, you may have heard of me.” He turned sharply toward him. “Achilles did tell me to run away from you fast if you happened to meet me. My father also mentioned you one or two times, and only in good. I figured out you where a treat.” 

So he did heard of him. He turned toward him, his Eagle Vision activated. Connor’s was also on. “Listen to me, Connor. Due to one of my closest friend recently dying, I am currently unable to feel anything concerning the Templar and Assassin conflict. This tomb is neutral territory and I will not hunt you down, if only because I cannot kill what is left of Haytham. I know what it feels like to be forced to put an end to one of our closest one, since I had to do it to every single one of my friend, so I will not disrespect your mourning. However, cross my path anywhere else and I will not hesitate to put a sword through your heart.”  

“Message understood. And I would like to inform you that I will not go down without a fight. Should we cross again, all bets are off.” “A duel if we ever croos path outside of this cemetery then?” “Yes.” They both turned toward the grave. Shay got the Precursor box out, before starting to dig a hole in the earth, Connor watching curiously in the corner of his eye. “Help me bury this infernal box.” “Why?” “It contains too much informations. It made my life a living hell and the reason why I did this travel in the first place was for your father. It belongs with him. I’m not sure you’d understand-” “It’s okay.” Connor’s eyes flickered bright blue for a moment. “I know what you’re talking about.”

Once the hole was big enough for the box to fit, Shay placed the box with caution before Connor put the earth back on, letting Shay place the bouquet of flowers atop the brow. Gist was the one to find them about thirty minutes later, utterly drunk and ready to shoot Connor before Shay told him to lay off, and this tombstone was neutral territory and that they were ready to go anyway.

“Okay lad, why were you being friendly with the enemy.” “Jesus Christ, Gist, I’m 52 years old, I don’t need you to babysit me. And aren’t you 77? You should let me take command over my own actions, you’re starting to go senile.” “Really funny. More seriously, the guy you were talking too was Connor, the killer of your boyfriend-” “We weren’t lovers and you know it. Stop being stupid.” “Shay, I’m serious. Your good luck is about to run out.” “It already did when I failed with finding the Face and when Haytham died. And don’t worry about that Gist. I’ll just make more...”

YES!!! I just have to finish the Child of Izanami and I can start to write actual fanfics. I can also start to work on the DR cross-over, yes. Anyway, first sad thing I write. I think I did good on this one. UNTIL THEN!

[sasi-in-wonderland]

How to safe a life (Assassin’s Creed Fanfiction Shay X Haytham)

A short Shaytham Fanfiction. Just had the idea. I hope you like it :) 

  It was already late on this day. It was winter and pretty snowy and cold 

outside.Haytham and Shay were on the Morrigan to organize and plan some stuff for the order. "That was it for today i think." Haytham said while laying away his notes. "Sir, you should eat something." Shay said while he opened a cabinet and pulled out a basket full of fresh red apples. Haytham looked at the basket and smiled. "What?" Shay asked him confused. It was an unusual sight to see the Grandmaster smiling. "Nothing, i just think you have a predilection for apples." Haytham said. Shay nodded "I do". He replied while Haytham took an apple and ate it. "They are very tasty and fresh." the Grandmaster said. "Indeed, i got them this morning from a market. I am very sorry that i don't have anything else here at the moment." Shay apologized. "Don't worry it's fine. Shay, i have to talk to you about something." "And what might that be?" Shay asked and leaned against a wall. "Tomorrow we need to set sail to Boston, i need to do some business there, would that be okay?" Haytham asked. Shay looked confused at him. "Sir, of course it is okay. What business?" he asked. Haytham shook his head. "Shay, you know you are my most trusted companion but this is something personal..." he said. Shay looked at him "I understand, Sir. I will immediately order Gist to set sail to Boston. The wind is just fine, we should be there at midday by tomorrow. Please get some rest while i will take the control of my ship." Shay said. Haytham grabbed Shays arm "Wait... there is something else." "Sir?" Shay looked at him. "I have a mission for you which you need to take care of while i will take care of the personal business. You shall sail to Philadelphia and take down the Assassin quarters there." Shay nodded "I understand. I won't disappoint you. But please Sir, you need some rest... don't take it personal but you work too much the last days... you barely get rest. This is not good...." Shay said with a sign of worrying in his eyes. Haytham sighed. "You are right, Shay... you know... there are so many things going on in my mind...." he said while sitting on the bed in the cabin. "Maybe it would help if you talk about it....furthermore i hope it isn't a dangerous personal mission" Shay said while looking into the tired eyes of his Master. Haytham shook his head. "Cormac, i want to give you something..." Shay looked at him. Haytham handed him over a small book which looked like a diary. "Please just take care of it, while i will be away." he said. "As you wish, Sir, but now please get some rest." Shay took the book and left the cabin to steer the morrigan.On the next morning the temprature was sinking deeper so it was even colder. The wind was flogging into Shays face as he threw out the anchor in Boston. Haytham came out of his cabin. He still looked tired even though he slept until midday. "Good morning, Sir, hope you had a peaceful night." Shay asked. Haytham looked at Shay "You were up the whole night to steer your ship?" he asked surprised. "Aye, i was. Just as i promised we arrived now." Shay said. "Cormac, you should get some rest too if you stay up all night and sail overtired you will crush against a growler and kill us all." he exhorted him. "Don't worry, Sir. I am a skilled captain. I know what i do." Shay assured. "Alright then... i will be back soon, do not forget your mission." Haytham said and left the morrigan.

Shay looked behind him with a weird feeling. "Everything alright, Captain Cormac?" Gist asked. Shay nodded. "Set sail to Philadelphia! I have some business to do." he commanded.A few hours later the Morrigan reached the harbour of Philadelphia. Shay looked at Gist "Christopher, please take care of my ship." he said while Gist nodded. Shay walked through Philadelphia while still having a weird feeling about the personal business of his master. On his way to the target he bumped into an old lady. "Watch where you walk!" she hissed. "Excuse me." Shay said and realized that something felt out of his pocket. It was the mysterious book which he got from Haytham. He picked it up. There must have been a reason why he gave it to me... he thought.He sat down on a bench and opened it. "It's his journal.... but why...... i cannot read it...." he said it to himself. He knew it was wrong to read it but curiosity always had the upper hand. Shay started to read the Diary. He overleapt some pages. Sir....i never knew you had a sister.... neither did i know your father was killed by a Templar..... he thought. Personal mission.....so you are taking revenge on Reginald Birch..... Shay thought. He was worried about Haytham since he was stressed out a lot the last days... but he also had a mission to do. Should he postpone his mission...? But what would Haytham, who was thinking so high of him thinking about him then?

Maybe Master Kenway needs me right now.... Shay thought and decided to postpone his mission.Shay went back on his Ship and commanded Gist to set sail as soon as possible to sail back to Boston. Gist looked at Shay "Well that was fast business." Shay looked at him "I didn't get my mission done... Gist... i have a bad feeling about Master Kenway...like something happened to him....." Gist raised his eyebrow. "Captain Cormac you should not worry. The Grandmaster is very skilled. He will be alright whatever his mission is." he said. Shay looked at him "Gist... even the most skilled people aren't safe from death...." Shay said while thinking about the part about Edward James Kenway's death in the journal.One hour later the morrigan reached Boston. Gist looked up into the sky. "Captain Cormac...? Do you see that...?" he pointed at a big cloud of dark smoke. Shay cursed. "That's not good. I have to go!, Gist, please take care of the ship!" Shay said as he wanted to run into the direction of the cloud. Gist grabbed Shays arm. "You will not go there alone." he said. "As you said the most skilled people aren't safe from death.... your own words..." Gist said. Shay looked at him. "Thank you, mate." Shay said and ran with Gist into the direction of the smoke as two aggressive people ran towards them and attacked them. "I will take care of them! Look for Master Kenway!" Gist yelled. One of the attackers grinned "Master Kenway, huh? Well he will get roasted by now." the man said. Shay looked shocked "Birch..?!" "Indeed that's my name." the man said. "GO CORMAC, don't lose any time!!" Gist yelled while fighting against Birch and his comrade. Shay nodded and pulled on his mask to ran into the smoke. It wasn't easy to see there "MASTER KENWAY??" he yelled as loud as he could several times. He got no answer. He saw a big house which was on fire. "Shit..." Shay cursed and walked into the house trying to avoid the flames as safely as possible. "MASTER KENWAY???" he yelled again caughing because of the smoke. The smoke was burning in his eyes. Many corpses were laying around. He looked to the floor and saw Haythams hat laying there. "Master Kenway!!!" he picked up his hat and walked further into the house. There he saw Haytham laying on the floor. "MASTER KENWAY!!" Shay picked him up immediately and tried to find a way out of the house. Flames everywhere. He wrapped Haytham into his cloak and ran through the flames outside, coughing from the smoke. Gist was still outside badly injured but he was still able to walk. Beside him lay the corpses of Birch and the other man. As Gist saw Shay he immediately wrapped a blanket around him to turn off the flames. "Captain...Cormac.... i am sorry... i did my best..." Gist passed out too Shay caught his body with his other arm. With Haytham and Gist in his arms he went back to the ship. He staggered his way. His eyesight was blurring from the smoke. Meanwhile Gist was awake again. Shay layed Gist into his Cabin he was able to bond his injuries himself. Shay carried Haytham into his cabin and layed him on his bed. He layed his fingers on his neck to find out that his pulse was very weak. Shay sighed. "Master Kenway... please hold on...." Shay whispered while grabbing Haythams Hands. Shay also had a lot of injuries caused by the fire but he didn't cared about them. His priority now was his Grandmaster. Night came and Haytham still didn't woke up. Shay lit some candles and sat beside Haythams bed, holding his hands while taking care of him. He layed his head on the bed and fell asleep.Time went by so fast. The third day in the middle of the night Shay still sat beside his Grandmaster and slept with his head on his bedside. Shays hands still laying on Haythams hands. Haytham opened his eyes slowly, looking around. "Where am i....?" he asked quietly. Shay felt Haythams hands slowly moving and woke up. "Cormac....?" Haytham asked. "Master Kenway...." Shay said. Shays eyes filled up with tears as he pulled Haytham slowly into his arms. He tried to hide them. Haytham looked confused. "Cormac....?" Haytham asked again. "You almost died...." Shay whispered. Haythams eyes widened. "I remember....there was an ambush..... Birch wasn't alone.....I.... wait where did you know....?" he asked Shay. "Master Kenway... i am so sorry.... i read your journal.... the one you gave to me before you went there....." Shay said quietly still holding Haytham. "I gave it to you in case i wouldn't survive....how long was i gone...?" "three days.... Gist was also injured but he is fine right now.... he killed Birch...." Shay said. Haytham sighed relieved. "You were laying on the floor in the burning house... i thought you were......" Shay swallowed. Haytham looked at Shay. He cares so much about me....Haytham thought and layed his hands on Shays shoulders. "You saved my life....." Haytham said. "But you shouldn't risk your life because of mine...." he continued. "Master Cormac, your life is much more valuable than mine.... without you the order would bankrupt...." Shay said while slowly letting go of Haytham. "No it wouldn't." Haytham said. Shay looked at him wondering. "Because they would have another great grandmaster.... Shay Patrick Cormac.... promise me something...." Haytham said. "Anything, Master Kenway...." Shay said looking deeply into his Masters' eyes. "If something happens to me... and i won't survive... please take in my place...." Shay nodded. "Yes, Sir...." Haytham smiled weakly and pulled Shay close then kissed him deeply

~ The End ~

[gococogo]

In the White Roses | Shaytham

Synopsis : Shay has been missing for the last couple of days. He is normally by night fall but when he doesn't return, Gist alarms Haytham is his disappearance. While searching, Haytham seems a bit more worried than he should be.

Word Count : 3.7K

Genre : Angst / Hurt

Pairing : Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

[Warnings] : Blood, Gore, injured!Shay

The thing is, Haytham had gone to the Morrigan and Fort Arsenal looking for the Hunter. He even went to the Greenwich Tavern in case the man had stopped by there. But the bar keep had not seen Shay since he was in here with the Grandmaster last. Which was a week ago.

Gist had seen him two days ago before Shay had gone off on his own. The Hunter’s disappearances were common enough that no one thought anything of them because the man always came back within night fall to look over his ship. Haytham would say he loved that thing more than anything else in his life sometimes.

When he had not come back the first night, Gist thought it strange. When he hadn’t returned by morning is when he reported it to Haytham. It took the entire day of asking around New York to get a location on where Shay could have gone. It very quickly seemed to Haytham that Shay was good at what he does. Hiding in plain sight.

But as the day dragged on into the second night, Haytham’s worry had grown strong. Gist had gone back to the Morrigan to rally up some of the crew to help search instead of just the two looking around Greenwich. But Haytham’s search took him further out than Greenwich.

It takes him to Lower Manhattan towards the known Assassin Den. This Den has yet to rid of and there have been plans to do so. Shay was going to lead with some other men. But maybe… Haytham hopes not.

But his suspicion grows stronger as he looks upon the Den from the outside. There’s usually some movement, yet all that comes from the Den is silence. The feeling that rises and closes Haytham’s throat is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Fear? No. That is something he has pushed down with sheer force in his years and he has mastered to control. But it seems every time a situation comes about with Shay, all those years of control of his emotions come undone.

Haytham scales up the side of a two storey building to get a better view of the den. He nearly slips halfway up, his mind somewhere else. He looks over the den and watches for any lanterns or any movement at all. There is still nothing. It’s dead.

A rope from the building travels over to one of the rooves of the den and seems like a better way than climbing all the way down. Haytham seems to stare at it for a second before running across it before he hesitates too long. He isn’t the best at free running as Shay and will most likely never be since the man was trained in the way of the Assassin much longer than Haytham. Running the rope was a gamble and he nearly looses his balance three quarters way across. The rope wasn’t as tight and firm as it looked when he started. His heart his beating wildly in his chest by the time he gets across.

Haytham investigates the den carefully after he settles himself. What he finds is what he suspected.

Bodies line the court of the den and inside of each building. The first smell of decay is strong and mostly all of the bodies are starting to bloat. Haytham stops in front of one and has to cover his mouth and nose with his cape. The body lies face up with half of his face beaten and bloody. There are multiple slashes across his chest and stomach. The blood is dried and almost black in the darkness, the whites of his eyes stark.

As caring and gentle as Shay can be, seeing this truly puts him in another light. This blood bath shows the anger and his true frustration inside of him towards the Creed. That what he has gone through still holds on with its teeth and claws, reminding Shay of what he’s done. What the Creed caused. They created their own worst enemy that has the right amount of motivation to be their undoing. It’s almost ironic. But also brings a curiosity to Haytham on who Shay was before the incident. He knows about Lisbon but he doesn’t know if Shay knows that.

Haytham moves on.

The rest of the den is the same. It’s been cleared out entirely. But then where is Shay? If he cleared it out then he should have returned after wards. Haytham uses his vision and looks around to see if he missed anything. Nothing glows brightly to him, not even the bodies that are a slumbering grey against the blue world.

Until a shimmer of red catches his attention to his left. Split reaction at the colour, he flicks his blade out fully expecting an Assassin to jump out from behind the building. The small streak of red doesn’t move but it flickers and ebbs in Haytham’s vision. He moves closer towards it, the streak of red becoming noticeable as a handprint on the side of the building wall. A smeared handprint that leads to a trail of blood on the brick floor. A heavy trail.

Haytham’s eyes strain from the vision and he has to blink away, rubbing his face. He picks up a nearby lantern and uses it to light his way. Who ever is at the end of this blood trail is still alive, there’s no other reason for it to be attracting his vision like that. He just hopes it’s the man he’s been looking for tonight.

The fat drops of blood on the ground are easy to follow. They lead out of the den and onto the side street that runs along the back of the Den. Haytham flickers in and out of his vision when he loses it, not wanting to take a turn down the wrong way. The red trail leads down an ally way drastically at one point. Haytham follows, noticing another bloody hand print on the building as he passes. Whoever this is, is badly injured.

The trail stops behind a small court behind some resident buildings. There’s clothes lines in the middle of the area and white rose bushes lining the back of the buildings. It’s hard to see in the dark but the roses seem to glow in the moon light. Even the petals of the ones that are speckled with red. His heart beats dramatically in his chest at the sight of it. Slowly, Haytham moves towards those ones, bringing his lantern in front of him. His body is tense as he stands in front of the bush. Slowly, and gently, he pushes aside one of the broken branches and looks inside. If Haytham wasn’t trained by his father when he was young, he would be dead right now. If he was a little slower, his neck would be open and turning these roses fully red below him. But the hidden blade misses his skin by an inch as it slashes out at him in defense.

In the rose bush, lies Shay Cormac.

In the yellow light of the lantern the slick of blood can be seen over his black coat. Like the dead man Haytham saw, half of Shay’s face is covered in blood, bleeding from a head wound that is obviously causing his delirium. He now breathes heavily, the movement twisting his body in a way that must hurt to whatever injury he has.

“Shay,” Haytham speaks firmly and loudly. All so that the man below him knows who is speaking to him. Hoping that his voice breaks through the haze.

And it seems to. Shay’s one good eye peers up at him but it is as if he is not seeing. His body seems to relax a bit though, knowing he isn’t in danger anymore.

Haytham bites back an edge in his chest he doesn’t recognize. He pushes it down as he holds his hand out to Shay, wondering if the man will take it. Shay looks at it and goes to take it. But as if exhaustion and blood lost have finally taken a toll, his eye roll into the back of his head and he passes out.

With a curse, Haytham drops the lantern next to him and breaks away at the bush so that he can get to Shay. He picks Shay up with a huff and a loud grunt, swinging the entire dead weight of a six-foot-tall man over his shoulder. He heaves and strains, but he stands firmly. Haytham begins the slow and long walk back to Fort Arsenal with the warm feeling of blood soaking through his clothing.

It is late in the night by the time Haytham gets back to Fort Arsenal. Gist is already rushing out of the manor before Haytham crosses the front gate.

“What happened!?” The first mate calls out.

Gist helps Shay off of the Grandmaster’s shoulders and they both heave the man inside, holding onto an arm each. Shay tries to catch his feet under him but he trips and staggers, making the trip a little difficult.

“Were I followed?” Shay mumbles out, his accent blurring his words together.

Haytham only just catches the words said.

“No. You weren’t Shay. You did good,” he responds, hoping to lesson the man’s worries.

The answer satisfies Shay as he seems to pass out again, causing both men to nearly fall inwards at the sudden extra weight. Under all his gear must be just muscle and stone because there is no way one man his size can be this heavy.

They get Shay inside where Gist calls out for the maids of the manor. They come running, instructing them both to lie him down on his bed. Gist worries about the blood but the maids do not care at this given moment. A groan escapes Shay’s mouth as he’s laid down.

“I’ll go fetch the doctor,” the youngest maid inquires before leaving the room.

The other one, an elderly woman in her late fifties by Haytham’s guess, begins taking off Shay’s clothes. There are too many straps and too many layers for her liking to get to what is making Shay lose so much blood. She ends up cutting off most of the straps and cutting into his shirt with a pocket knife she pulled from god knows where.

“Mr Gist, can you get me a bucket of water with a cloth,” the maid calls back without taking her attention off of Shay.

Gist is gone before Haytham can blink. Shay had only become a Templar in the past month but has been working with them for the on going year. In such a small amount of time he has full loyalty from his crew and his house maids. It’s not a common thing to see in such a place a New York. Something that Haytham never grew up with. The maids and the hands served him because he’s a Kenway. The Templars look up to him because he is a Grandmaster and from where he comes from. All because of status, not for who he is.

Shay. Shay came from the enemy and the street. One should sneer and spit when they learn of his past. Yet, everyone around him respects him for the stuff he had done. Even Haytham must admit that before he met Shay at the ceremony he had heard of stories from Monro and Gist about the former assassin. He had expected a man that would give some sort of sympathy towards the assassins and want the best way possible to make them see their wrongs.

But the man he met was not that. He met a hunter. A man with a cause for revenge. One that hides his true anger and intentions but will not lie when asked. Lies is what caused him to see the wrongs within the assassins which made a truthful man. A stronger man.

Hence why, Haytham realizes, that Shay hid away instead of coming straight back to Fort Arsenal. All because he thought that someone would follow the trail of blood like Haytham did. To protect the Templars and the others inside.

Gist comes back with the bucket of water and plants it down next to the bed. The maid opens up Shay’s bloody shirt to show the black blood slicked skin. Haytham doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He doesn’t know when the injury starts of ends. The maid tries to clean away the blood but only more welts up and spills over. Haytham realizes he doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He doesn’t know where its just blood or its flesh.

Haytham stands frozen as he watches the maid try to cover the wound back up to stop the bleeding. All until the doctor gets here. Gist even snaps into action, helping the maid and getting his hands dirty. Haytham on the other hand, he has seen plenty of guts and gore his entire life. Killed men. Cut them up from hip to throat and then slit their jugular for good measure. Yet the thought of that being Shay stirs something in his gut.

He’s broken from his thoughts as Shay hisses loudly. He tries to pry Gist off of him, but Haytham quickly comes forward and grabs the man’s hands away. Shay wrenches one of his hands free from Haytham but doesn’t proceed to reach out. His brows are furrowed and his nose scrunches. The smell of blood is off putting it must be getting to Shay as well.

Shay’s free, shaky hand comes up to his face and he tries to wipe away the blood from his eye. But he doesn’t succeed, all he does is smear it over his face. At the struggle, Haytham brings out his napkin from the inside of his coat. He hits Shay’s hand away before wiping away the blood from his eye. When Haytham is satisfied, brown eyes stare up at him calmly.

Before anything else stupid happens, Haytham is pushed roughly away by the doctor. He slams his briefcase at the side of the bed and begins ordering the maids around, even Gist. Shay’s first mate is sent off to grab another pale of water and the maids are to stay and help hold the injured down if needed. The doctor looks to Haytham with a furrowed expression.

“Come and help hold him down,” he orders.

In any other circumstance, Haytham would have snapped. But he moves forward again to hold onto Shay’s shoulders. Gist comes back with the pale of clean water and slams it down next to the bed. The doctor begins cleaning Shay’s wound and Haytham watches the hunter go from dazed to conscious within a second.

The doctor works quick but carefully to clean away all the old blood and to see what truly is underneath all the gore. Things start become clear and Haytham is able to depict what is what. There’s a gun shot wound in Shay’s right side that weeps red and a slash from a sword across his chest that seems to have healed badly over the past couple of days. A wave of nausea sweeps over Haytham that he has to quickly get under control.

Haytham doesn’t know much but he does know in his experience that the sword wound is going to have to be reopened and cleaned. But the doctor isn’t worried about it right now. The gunshot wound is the main priority. The doctor moves Shay over so he can look at the man’s back.

There’s no exit wound. The bullet is still inside of him. Shay lets out a breathy chuckle as if the situation is funny. But before Haytham can snap at him, his brown eyes become hazy again.

“I can’t put him under,” the doctor suddenly says. “There’s a risk he won’t wake up if we do.”

Haytham understands. “Gist, help the ladies hold his legs down. I’ll hold his shoulders dow-“

“I’ve seen men throw men like yourself off, sir,” the doctor cuts him off. “I suggest you wrangle him to hold his arms in place.”

Haytham hesitates, but moves when Shay lets out a ragged groan as he’s let back down on the bed by the doctor. He takes off his coat and hat, setting it off to the side before he sits on the edge of the bed and moves Shay into his lap. Haytham wraps one arm around Shay’s chest, being careful of the wound, while the other hand is holding onto one of his arms.

“I’m going to work quickly, but this is going to be painful,” the doctor instructs. “There’s healed tissue I’m going to have to cut open to get to the bullet.”

“Get on with it,” Haytham snaps through gritted teeth.

The doctor washes his hands in the second pale of water before putting on gloves. He rummages around his case and comes out with a thick piece of leather. For a split second, Haytham is confused until the leather is placed roughly into Shay’s mouth. It just rests in his mouth right now but soon, he’s going to be biting down on that thing hard enough that one could lose a finger or two.

The doctor goes back into his case and bring out a pair of surgical scissors and tongs. With a cloth in his other hand, he wipes away the fresh blood from gun shot before getting to work. He digs the tongs in to open the wound and Shay instantly reacts, biting down into the leather.

His body tenses and his brown eyes become black with how big his pupils dilate. But it’s when the doctor starts cutting away at healed tissue that Shay flails and shouts past the gag. Gist and the two maids manage to hold his legs from kicking about but Haytham’s hold nearly slips.

The one arm that can’t be held down comes around and grabs onto the arm that’s across his chest. He tries to pry Haytham off of him and he nearly succeeds. He guesses having to hold and steer a ship nearly every week along with climbing buildings and scaffolding does render this type of strength. But Haytham holds tight, almost choking the man.

If Shay had come home straight away and not let his wounds heal, this would go ten times smoother. But he had chosen to stay hidden away in case any one had followed him. Stupid, but smart.

Shay’s body arches off the bed but he can’t go anywhere further since four people are holding him down. A choked cry escapes his throat as the doctor digs in deeper. It’s a sound that Haytham wishes he could cover his ears for. But as the doctor cuts more away and burrows for the bullet, the more Shay bites down on the gag and his body shakes from the pain that has a grip on his body and mind.

“It’s nearly done,” Haytham says, trying to get the man under him to calm down some.

In truth, Haytham has no clue if the doc has found the bullet. Or is anywhere near done. He just needs Shay to calm down so that this can be over quicker. But it’s Shay Cormac he’s currently talking about. And he will go down fighting.

As if on que as well, all Gist is able to get out before Shay frees a foot and kicks him square in the jaw is a small plea. Gist falls to the ground heavily like a sack of potatoes. The doctor has to take the tongs out of Shay as he thrashes about again. The maids gasp but are on it quickly afterwards, the eldest grabbing onto the free leg and holding it down. A groan from the first mate is all Haytham gets to say that he’s okay.

“Hold him still,” the doc snaps.

“They’re trying their best,” Haytham seethes.

He will not have some man snap at Shay’s employees. The doc doesn’t pay him any mind though as he starts fishing for the bullet once more. Shay’s entire body goes stiff once more as the whole process begins again. Tears now flow down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Gotcha,” is all the doctor says as he carefully picks the bullet from Shay.

He drops the bullet on the bed and a calm comes over Shay almost. The worst of it has past, but there is still pain to endure. Haytham pats Shay’s arm, trying to assure the man. But the doctor doesn’t finish his work until an hour later. Having to stitch up and also wait out Shay fighting them in his daze.

Unfortunately, the man did not pass out at any given time due to the pain. Shay had stayed awake the entire way through. Haytham had hoped he would pass out halfway through. But for some reason he wanted to stay conscious.

-

The doctor pats his hand son his thighs before standing up. Without a word, he begins cleaning up and shoving stuff into his briefcase.

Shay’s waist and chest are fully bandaged, and he’s been put back together. Haytham has let go of him, but his head still lays in his lap. He should move. He should be leaving now knowing that Shay will be alright. His maids will look after him.

“I’ll be back in the morning to check up on him,” the doctor gruffly.

Gist, who is now conscious and has been looked over already, grunts and shows the doctor out. He’s a little off on his feet, having been a little concussed by the kick he received. But the doc said he’ll be fine. The maids leave as well, following them out with the pales of water in hand.

That leaves Haytham alone in the room with Shay in his lap. A hand comes and rests itself onto Shay’s hot forehead. Finally, those brown eyes close shut. It finally feels like Haytham can rest as well. His own body aches from having to hold Shay for so long and he doesn't realize how tired he had become until now.

“You stubborn fool,” Haytham mumbles.

The smallest smile comes to Shay’s lips. But it’s only now that he can rest, knowing he is safe and sound. And yet Haytham doesn’t move, finding himself not wanting to go in case something happens for the rest of the night. With that thought, Haytham stays up for the rest of the night, listening to Shay breathe hoarsely but strongly. That’s all Haytham needs to know that everything is alright.

[gococogo]

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 1

Pt.2

「Synopsis」 : No older than sixteen, Haytham Kenway is dragged along to America for the first time. Somewhere other than boring old London. But Birch has him on a tight leash with wanting him by his side all the time.

And at such a young age, Haytham's curiosity has not been tamed yet. So he wonders off wanting to take in the new things. And a new thing is a young boy he runs into that calls himself, Shay.

「Word count」 : 1.4K

Genre: Coming of Age/Young Love

Paring: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: I've changed Haytham's and Shay's age to only being a year apart for the sake of the story. Enjoy!

Hearing about Shay had brought on something familiar. Yet it wasn’t until he saw him in person that an itch came about that wouldn’t go away. A memory there that couldn’t be reached. Maybe it was something he had pushed down so he wouldn’t think of it too much. He didn’t ask Shay anything of it though. Not wanting to detour the man from the task at hand.

But he finds himself walking along a street in New York that he shouldn’t know, yet his second nature does. He hasn’t spent a lot of time in New York since he came to America, mostly keeping his business in Boston. Sending others he trusts to do business in New York. Yet it seems day by day that he has to trek out here to finish what other could not.

But his walk, it brings him to the closed theatre. Boarded and nailed shut. The paint peeling and flaking off the old rotting boards underneath. It isn’t what Haytham remembers it as.

-

It was Haytham’s first time visiting America. Or visiting anywhere other than London in the six years since his father has passed. He’s just coming of age, yet at the same time it still feels like he’s still being treated a child. Shadowed away and only told things when needed. Birch, the man to bring him along to the new world, is one to keep him close to his side. Making sure that he knows where Haytham is at all times type of thing. But he does it because it’s the right thing to do. Haytham knows he does it because he wants the young man to be the best of himself he can be. Even thought sometimes that can be very hard.  

Even though Haytham knows it’s not exactly normal. He knows what other families look like. He’s well aware of how a family is meant to act and treat each other. But once realizing that he doesn’t live a normal life when he was young allowed him to step forward. Does he wish for a normal life sometimes?

Yes. Yes, he does find himself wanting to play like the other kids. Go to balls with the other large families. Or talk with the other boys about the girls across the road. Or… Other things that normal British boys do. He wouldn’t exactly know because he’s being dragged across the world to America for business.

Maybe that’s what other boys do but… this isn’t just another business trip a father brings their boy along for. This is bringing Haytham along to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble in London. To make sure that his training isn’t diverged by someone or something. Strictly business. Nothing more.

Unlike London though, New York is nothing like home. Everything is new yet… not at the same time. The buildings seem to be all half assed and there are red coats everywhere Haytham looks. The carriage that transports Birch and himself knocks and sways on the rough New York road. Nothing like the smooth brick laid streets back home.

Haytham sits with his hands on his knees, his eyes glued to the outside of the carriage. His mind is elsewhere and he doesn’t pay any attention to his legal guardian sitting across from him. Birch watches Haytham with a frown upon his brow and mouth.

“What do you think of New York so far?” Birch suddenly asks.

Haytham’s head snaps towards him, eyes wide. He didn’t hear a single word Birch just said. He repeats himself as the boy composes himself.

“Um, it’s-“

“Don’t say um. It’s improper,” Birch snaps.

“It’s different,” Haytham replies surely this time.

“How so?”

The boy glances out the window again, as if having to have another look to compare it to back home. Birch thinks he’s going to be lost in thought again but he comes back.  

He turns to Birch with an answer, blue eyes wide with eagerness. He explains truthfully as to what he thought in his head mere moments before.

Birch huffs at that and takes a look outside for himself. A child’s mind truly does see more than the average adult.

The carriage suddenly stops, and the driver calls out to them that they’re here. The door is opened for them by one of their personal guards and kicks out the step for them. Haytham exits first with Birch close behind. The boy wears a blue suit with a white undershirt that frills out on his chest. His short black hair is tied back into a small ponytail but despite the best efforts of the maids, bits and pieces still fall around his face.

Birch’s men begin unloading the carriage of their luggage and bags. They’ll be staying here for a minimum of three months, maximum of four. Birch hasn’t really told Haytham why they’re here but that it’s all for business. He is aware of Birch’s affiliations and what he does, but Haytham does not yet know the full extent of it. He wishes to help, but Birch says he’s much too young to deal with anything just yet. Another year.

Haytham follows Birch’s men inside out curiosity, leaving Birch outside to speak with the owner of the hotel. He seems like a sweet old man but Haytham wouldn’t have any patients for him.

The inside of the motel is… how would one put it? A little run down. It doesn’t look any better from the outside. It isn’t the best but Haytham has to remind himself that he isn’t in London anymore where pride for establishments is a grand thing. It seems like the same pride does not reside here.

Laughter catches Haytham’s attention and almost without thinking, he wonders off towards the sound. He does think though, he thinks of, if he gets caught by Birch he’s going to be in for it. The laughter takes him to the back of the motel where a small foyer lays. Almost like a waiting area that leads out to the back of the motel.

Two boys, around Haytham’s age if not a bit younger, come running through the back door and into the foyer. The two of them look middle class but just barely. Their clothes plain and beige with some patchwork done to repair them. They laugh and giggle as the ginger of the two hides behind one of the couches. The blonde chases after him, hitting his shoulder.

Haytham blinks in confusion as all the ginger does is laugh louder at being hit and not wallow and cry on the ground. The ginger stands up and his bright eyes meet Haytham’s.

“Oh! Are you staying here?” He asks Haytham with a smile.

Little Haytham feels his mouth go dry. He just stares as the two come over to them so confidently. Without fear or hesitance. He’s lost for words, his own shyness getting the best of him.

“Yes,” he finally answers softly.

“Are you a Brit!?” The blonde asks loudly.

At this, Haytham nods.

“That’s cool! Travelled all the way here on a ship!” The ginger laughs. “Wanna play with us?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for poor Haytham to reply before batting him on the arm.

Haytham brings his arm to his chest and looks to the boys in utter confusion. And because he doesn’t know what’s going on, he feels stupid, and his throat only constricts even further.

“Do brits not know tag?” The blonde asks sourly.

Before Haytham can reply, he’s yanked back furiously with a hand on his arm. With such force he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplashed. Birch gets between him and the two boys who back off quickly, eyes going wide with fear. Birch is a tall man with an ugly scowl, even Haytham can admit that. He’s just use to it, but anyone that doesn’t, well. The boys are showing a great example of how mean he looks.

“Did they touch you, Haytham?” Birch asks firmly.

Haytham looks to the boys, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He looks up to Birch and shakes his head.

“No, sir,” he replies back.

Seemingly satisfied, Birch faces the two boys again. “Be off with you lot,” he snaps.

The boys don’t hesitate any longer, running back off into the garden with their tails tucked between their legs. Birch seems to huff at that. Haytham tries to wiggle out of Birch’s firm grip but it only tightens. He pulls Haytham around to face him, kneeling down so their nose to nose.

“I don’t want you wondering off while we’re here. It’s not like London,” Birch speaks firmly, in that voice that means he wants it his way or no way. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

[hopeatermain]

It’s the last time I’m picking you up.

This is not related to the main story. It’s a modern Au where Haytham is a successful businessman and lives with Edward, a retired sailor and hustler, Shay, a friend of his who he is probably dating (everyone thinks so, anyway) and Connor, the son he had with his late wife with who he is an overprotective dad.

Rating: T for mentions of alcohol.

Genre: I have no idea. Some humor, some hurt/comfort, I guess.

Summary: Connor goes to a party and Haytham is forced to pick him up.

Other warning: This contains a drunk Connor and an exasperated Haytham. Also, slight implied domestic Shaytham (they live together) and Salty grandpa Edward towards Haytham. It was inspired from a screenshot of tumblr where someone asked his mother if she was still a virgin while drunk.

Word count: 1 164 (Ooo, it’s longer than my last two ones.)

This was the last time Haytham, was doing anything for Connor. Or Edward. Or Shay, for that matter. Okay, maybe not Shay. It started rather normally, what’s with Connor going to a party with some friends. Shay and Edward then both gave him some alcohol for said party, to both of their protestations. He ended up being scolded by his father (he was a 48 years old man, dammit) and Shay had insisted that he took some alcohol with him, saying that Connor was old enough to bring some alcohol to a party, and that most of his friends had already hit adulthood anyway. Then, Connor had gone, with the alcohol, politely declining being taken there saying he could walk there.

And now, there he was, him, Haytham Kenway, a successfull business man, at 2 in the morning, in front of a middle class house during a weekend in the winter, because apparently, his son got smashed, already threw up two times and got into a fight in which he destroyed a chair. The person on the phone had said he no one expected him to be such a lightweight. Well, it was probably the first time Connor drank so much. He didn’t even like alcohol in the first place! 

The music was still booming from the house. He walked up to it and ringed the doorbell. The door opened to let a girl appear in the doorway. Haytham was somewhat reassured. Somewhat. Why? The girl was Aveline, a friend of his son, and Haytham knew her step-mother. “Mr Kenway?” “Hello, Aveline. I am there to pick up my son.” “Oh yeah, Arno and Desmond are helping him sober up in the bathroom. He didn’t take beer very well. Follow me.” 

He did not knew who were Arno and Desmond. Who were Arno and Desmond?! Aveline led him through the sea of drunk young adults that were either talking loudly, eating, dancing, getting drunk or making out, before getting to the bathroom. Sure enough, his son was there throwing up in the toilet with two other people, one rubbing his back and the other handing him water there and then. Charming. Now, he recognized Arno, the adoptive son of one of his associates, but not the other one. Probably Desmond.

“Um... Aveline, who is this?” That was Desmond. “It’s Connor’s father, Haytham Kenway. I asked Agape to call him earlier. Sorry for the late hour, Mr Kenway. We just thought it would be better if Connor woke up in his own bed instead of an unfamiliar environment.” “Thank you for your concerns, Arno. Now, if you don’t mind, I will take my son with me.” Haytham helped Connor get up, who was somewhat clumsy. “Careful! He’s still drunk.” “Thank you for the concern... Desmond?” The one with the white hoodie nodded, somewhat scared of what Haytham was going to do next. The business man just walked out, carrying his son.

“Ngeeeh... dad?” “Welcome back in the world of the living, son. I see you are still drunk.” In his drunk mind, Connor was able to tell that his father was disappointed. And he was not drunk! He would prove it right here and right now. “Hey dad.” “What?” “What’s the meaning of life.” “42.” “But-” “It’s 42.” “Why are you mad?” “Because my only son, the only reminder I have of Ziio, got drunk at a party and I was called a 2 in the morning, in the middle of the winter, because you were too intoxicated to properly function. And, in my hast to go, I woke up Shay and your grandfather, making both of them worried sick about you. That is why I am mad.” “Oh...” Silence. And then, in all of his drunken glory, Connor proceeded to ask his father if he was still a virgin. You’ve read that right. And Haytham’s only answer was to look at him with pain in his eyes before telling him they were home, and that it was the last time he was picking him up in his life before they both got into the house, were Edward was waiting in the kitchen and Shay was pacing in the living room. The Irish man immediately helped Connor to the bathroom.

“So?” “He’s getting over his hangover.” “Good. Anything else?” “Yes. He got called by some of his friends. They were just wondering if he was okay.” Haytham sighed in relief. That was always that... “Something wrong?” “I have no idea of what I am going to do with this child, Shay.” The younger man sat down next to him on the couch, looking at him. “What do you mean?” “I’m afraid for him, that’s what I mean! He’s always running off somewhere doing some errands, he has difficulties with his studies, he already ran to the woods three times” “He was just camping with his cousin two of these times. The other time, he was simply taking a walk.” “-and he’s getting along with my father.” “I fail to see the last point.” “Have you forgotten what my father was, Cormac?” “No, he was a sailor, the captain of the Jackdaw to be more precise, and a hustler- oh. I see now.” 

Haytham looked at Shay, and eyebrow raised. “You’re afraid that the lad will end up like his grandpa!” “That’s exactly it.” “Well, he will if you constantly shelter him.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means you shelter him too much, and that he’s only going to lash out in return. He’s going to be a legal adult in three months, you need to cut him a break.” “Weren’t you the one who panicked when I decided to go get him this morning?” “You woke up in a haste, searched for your coat for ten minutes while you prepared yourself a coffee with the machine, which is incredibly loud, and when asked about it, you only said that Connor was in trouble. Why wouldn’t I be worried sick? I’ve know him since he moved in with you, and he practically became my son as well when we decided to move together.” 

Haytham looked at him a moment, before snorting. “When did you became the intelligent one, Shay?” “I am not. I merely remember what it was like to be a young fool, that is all.” “HEY, SON” The two men jumped when Edward barged in the living room. “Your son has been throwing up since ten minutes, why aren’t you there to help him?” “Because I am tired from waking up at two in the morning, that’s why.” “And that’s a good reason to let your boyfriend take better care of him.” “Me and Shay aren’t dating, father.” “Sure thing son, sure thing.” “THEY ARE DATING. I’VE HEARD THEM LAST NIGHT.” That was Connor. Who was still in the bathroom. Good thing he was sobering up. “I swear that was the neighbor.” “Don’t even try to defend yourself, Shay. These two are more stubborn than a mule.”

QUICK REMINDER: This does not have an actual link with my story. I just wanted to write something silly. I’ll let you decide whether or not Shay and Haytham are platonic but close friends or lovers. Until then!