#Haytham kenway angst

[sweetcocopowder]

A Night of Christmas | Shaytham Oneshot

Synopsis: Christmas has rolled around and while Shay is out celebrating, Haytham is brooding. And it's on this night that Shay finds a little understanding on why Haytham doesn't enjoy this time of year.

Word Count: 2.8K

Genre: Angsty/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Other: Credit to @benkeibear for the divider. I know this is weird getting tagged in a random ass assassin's creed fic. But I hold up to the credit tag haha.

Christmas had its perks. Some bad and some… not as bad. But it’s a time that Haytham never truly celebrated. And that was something Shay found out pretty early on in being a Templar under his eye.

Every year, Shay had just found it as an accuse to drink is merry way. And it seemed like Gist did the same thing. Which was something that Shay appreciated cause the only thing he didn’t want is to be drinking alone again. Liam had given it up for his duties for the Creed. Saying that there was no time to hunker down and celebrate when there was shit happening in the world. Liam’s words, not anyone else’s.

The Greenwich tavern is lively on Christmas. The entire crew of the Morrigan is resided there. The man that owns the tavern -Stocky Dave- is a man that is greedy for money. And if there’s money to be made, Christmas is just another pay check in his books. Which means, Stocky Dave is probably the only tavern open on Christmas day. While every other owner is taking this time off to spend their night with their families or friends.

It’s hard to walk from the entrance to the bar as it is. Every single man is shoulder to shoulder and bellowing out their lungs to sing along to the out of tune piano in the corner. One of the crew members play a carol behind the janky keys, keeping everyone in tune. As best as he can. Everyone sounds like nails on a broken chalk board. In their drunken haze though they sound like angels of the heavens singing upon humanity with finely aged wine in their hands.

Gist pulls darts from the dart board with a drunken, sloppy hand. He chuckles to himself as he drops one of them, his fingers numb with ale. Shay watches him a couple of feet away, waiting for his first mate to come back with the darts. He sways where he stands, a cheeky grin upon his face as some of his crew members shove and push behind him. Some slapping him on the shoulder and others pestering in his ear.

He’s winning at darts. Against Gist, it’s not much of a challenge. His first mate thought he could best him when lost in drink. But that was his first mistake. Shay has a keen eye and even drunk as a skunk, he’s still able to hit the target. Even if he be a bit off at times, ninety percent he’s spot on.

…Lets make that eighty percent to be on the safer side.

Any other time, Shay would have told his crew members off. Told Gist that he has other matters to attend to. But it’s Christmas. And for the first time, it’s as if Haytham hasn’t got anything for them to do or any leads to go after. Which has led all of them here. Drinking and forgetting about yesterday, tomorrow and today.

Gist spews the darts into Shay’s hand, chuckling to himself as some of them fall out of his captain’s hands. One thing Shay has learnt knowing Gist. Is that the man is always sipping on his flask that he keeps inside of his coat. Leaving him smelling of whiskey at every turn. But, when the man drinks, he turns into a big child. A big man child.

With the darts Shay has, he holds one between his thumb and forefinger. He pinches one eye closed to aim down the board. But that doesn’t help the target from forming two on the wall. He thought one eye would at least get rid of the doubling up. He throws the dart, aiming in between the two hoping that somehow, he’ll get something.

The dart hits the wall with a loud thunk, nowhere near the board. He must be losing his touch tonight. Gist grabs onto the back of his shoulders and shakes him violently.

“You’ve lost, Shay! Another miss and you’ll be buying the next round!” His first mate shouts in his ear.

It’s deafening and Shay shies away from Gist. But his mate pays no attention to his discomfort. His mind is only the on round of ale that is going to be coming his way in mere seconds.

Now Shay can’t miss.

He wipes a hand down his face, feeling the sweat he smears off his brow. He didn’t realize how hot it had become in the tavern until right now. He’s sweating and can feel his shirt and vest sticking to him, coat long forgotten somewhere in the tavern. Just glad he took it off earlier tonight instead of sweating in the leather. Last thing he would want to do his to treat the coat with a massive hangover.

The two dart boards suddenly come together and Shay quickly aims with another dart. If he starts seeing double again, he’s undeniably going to be seeing the last of his coin leave his hand tonight. He aims with both eyes this time, and throws.

Bullseye.

Three men that have been watching the entire game suddenly rise in a roar of cheer. Louder than the carol being sung and only for a moment does it stutter. But it picks right up real quick after. Gist stares at the board with wide eyes before quickly composing himself. He may be a drunk, but he ain’t an angry drunk.

He holds out his hand to Shay with a cheesy grin. His captain takes it, shaking strongly. If Shay has learnt at least one thing tonight, he’s still good at darts while half a barrel in.

“I’ll grab us another round, aye!” Gist says as he’s already pushing himself through the crowd, trying to find the bar within the hoard of other drunken men.

Shay can’t help the chuckle that escapes his throat. He looks around the tavern, spotting many of his crew mingled in with others local to New York. But something catches his eye. In the front window of the tavern.

Haytham.

Haytham stands sideways looking in, inspecting the crowd that’s making the night rowdy. He’s still dressed up in his blue attire with his tricorn hat upon his head. His eyes dart from man to man like a cat watching prey. As if he had been walking past and stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

Shay’s stare is finally met with Haytham’s. The Grandmaster seems to straighten up, his eyes not leaving Shay’s. What is Haytham doing here? Is he looking for Shay? Has something come up? After that thought, Haytham moves off and out of sight.

Shay moves before he’s even thinking. He pushes through the crowd and being a large man himself, he gets through quite easily. He throws the tavern doors open and the cold air hits him in the face, shocking him. He blinks as if waking up from a dream, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings.

It’s faintly snowing. The New York street is already softly covered in a thin layer of white, giving everything a misty feel. Shay quickly spots the back of Haytham’s cloak walking under a lamp light.

“Haytham!” Shay calls out, running to the Grandmaster without thinking.

Too much ale fills his mind to think properly at this time of night. He’s lost track of what hour it is and it must be late. Or early for that matter it could be some time in the morning.

Haytham stops in his tracks under a lamp and turns to Shay, his face as flat as a day with no wind. He may show no emotion, but it’s already warning enough to tread lightly. Shay may have seen this sober, but not tonight. He stops a little too close to Haytham, the strong smell of alcohol scrunching the British man’s nose up slightly.

“What has you out tonight?” Shay asks with a grin.

 “A ponder is all.”

“A ponder out for me?” Shay steps a little closer. “I’m charmed.”

Haytham takes a large step away out of the street light. Shay straightens up suddenly, finally catching the hint. He clears his throat, taking a glance back to the tavern and around. No one is out on the street. They are either inside with their own family and friends or drinking like the rest in the tavern or little ally ways that no one stupid enough is to go down.

Shay licks his lips. “Want to join us?” He offers.

“No,” is all he gets back as blunt as an iron hammer.

Shay reaches out and grabs onto Haytham’s hand. But, unlike many a times before he’s done such a simple act, Haytham rips his own from Shay’s. The captain sobers up real quick then and there. His brows furrow and he stares at Haytham, looking for an answer. All he’s met with though is a cruel glare that Shay knows all too well.

“Like I said, I’m out for a ponder. Nothing more,” Haytham strikes back. “Not here to get drunk over a Christian holiday that marks no greater cause.”

A cord is struck inside of Shay and it hurts a slight. Something that shows clear on his face with a furrowed brow and open mouth. He wishes he could snap. Could say many a things. But this is Haytham Kenway. He cannot and should not. He keeps those angered words to himself.

“I’ll leave you be, Haytham,” Shay takes a small step aways. “I’ll see you morning come.”

With that, Shay heads back to the tavern in a sour mood hanging heavy over his head. Haytham doesn’t reply back, letting him storm back down the way he came. The rest of the night will be spent drinking in sorrow and not glee. Something that Gist catches onto straight away.

Shay gets to the bottom of his free drink of the night before he decides to call it in for Christmas. It wouldn’t even be classified as Christmas anymore since it is the next day already. That wouldn’t matter for the crew until the sun comes up over the horizon.

Alone, Shay plods home with his coat draped over his arm. His hidden blade bracers weigh heavy on his arms and heave down on his shoulders. He feels like he’s dragging his boots across the pavement with each step he takes. By God will he feel this in the morning. If any one were to sneak up on his drunk ass right now, they’d be able to get a few good hits in. So, to prevent that happening, Shay continues plodding.

Shay remembers his early years when he use to live with his aunt. It wasn’t for long, but he got a good few Christmas’s with her. The first one, it hadn’t been too long after his father had passed out at sea. It was the first time that Shay had felt some sort of happiness after those events. Liam had come to visit but he wasn’t there for long. It was just him and his aunt. It was a mellow day, sat around the fire place keeping warm. Yet, it is a memory to a hold tight on. A moment that pops up every time around this time of year.

Somehow, Shay arrives at the bridge to Fort Arsenal unharmed. He huffs as he opens the gates that creak loudly in the night. It scratches at his ears and nearly all of Greenwich would have heard. He locks it behind him and makes his way to the manor.

The front door opens with ease.

Shay lets the door open by itself as he blinks once, twice and thrice. He knows he locked it. He steps in with hesitance and gives a quick sweep of the manor. The fire place is lit, crackling and burning bright as if it’s been eating at the wood for an hour or so.

Haytham sits on the lounge in front of the fire with his hands twinned in front of him. He stares at the fire in his own world, the light flickering over his hardened features. He doesn’t look to Shay or even acknowledge his arrival.

His hat has been placed on the table in front of him and his coat hangs next to Shay’s head at the entrance. He’s made himself at home and waiting like a house wife. Waiting for Shay to get back from his long trip away at sea. Or, waiting for him to get back home from his long day at work. It almost feels like that to Shay, but he can’t help but feel like a child coming home to his aunt waiting to discipline him for being out too late.

Without a word, Shay sits down on the far end of the same lounge from Haytham. He looks into the fire, wanting to see what has Haytham so interested. A coal pops and a half burnt log falls into the ashes. Like fireflies, coal spews up into the chimney.

“Have you ever had a proper Christmas?” The question slips through ale soaked lips.

A silence follows that is filled with thought. Haytham breathes in heavily and releases it with a sigh.

“I don’t think I have,” Haytham admits.

Shay looks to him softly with a better understanding of him. Maybe not much. But those few words are much more than he would have offered to anyone else in the Order or in the street.

“Not even when you were a youngling?” Shay prods.

A lost look comes to Haytham as the fire dances in his eyes. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“If we had, I was far too young to remember.”

A lie. But one that Shay won’t nudge at. He only hums in reply and looks to the fire a moment more. His eyes droop and his attention wavers as tiredness washes over him like waves. If he stays here any longer, he’ll fall asleep.

With a huff, Shay stands to his feet and walks a couple of steps before stopping. All so that he’s standing on the other side of Haytham.

“Would you like to join me for bed?” Shay asks with a short, outstretched hand.

Haytham finally looks at him, staring to the hand in front of him. The smallest of smiles itch at his lips as he shakes his head just as lightly.

“I won’t join a man that smells as if he’s fallen into a barrel of ale,” Haytham declares with a queer tone.

Shay can’t blame the man. He wouldn’t want to either. Not sober nor even a little tipsy. And he doesn’t think Haytham would get pissed drunk just to join him in bed to help aid his own hangover in the morning.

Instead, Shay leans down heavily with a hand on the arm rest and gives Haytham a soft kiss on the cheek. One that Haytham leans into ever so faintly with closed eyes.

With unspoken words, Shay calls in for the night. All while Haytham recalls his own first Christmas in front of the burning fire. His first Christmas with his father that he can proudly remember.

T’was early in the morning when Jenny had batted him over the face with a pillow. Shouting in his face that Christmas had arrived. That all he was getting was coal in his stockings this year. Haytham had shouted and protested that he had been good. Had raced down the stairs to prove his half sister wrong.

He remembers his father standing by the fire place. He can’t remember his face now. Long blurred and forgotten by events that would take a couple of years later. But he does remember the wide grin that wrinkled his eyes. A smile that made Haytham’s heart bloom something warm.

That day, his father had gifted him something so dear. A model ship. His own model ship that Haytham had kept in his room. Looked upon each night before he fell asleep. Wondered what it would be like to sail out to sea on such a thing. Have the breeze in his hair and the salt on his lips. What an innocent thought for such a young boy.

One that went up in flames like the model ship. One long forgotten until days like this. When everyone around would cheer and celebrate such a wholesome day. Haytham could only sit and think about the what ifs. What if he had sailed, something akin to the freedom that Shay has now. What if he had become the man his father would adore into his adult hood. What if he could remember his father’s face one last night. Not out of shame or pity. But one out of pride and joy.

Only if…

[fanfenomenon]

“I never knew him. Not really. I thought I had, but it wasn’t until I read his journal that I realized I hadn’t really known him at all.

And it’s too late now. Too late to tell him I misjudged him.

Too late to tell him I’m sorry.”

- Connor, from Assassin’s Creed: Forsaken

i still believe connor regretted killing haytham and no one can make me think otherwise now that ac forsaken has solidifed that belief (also, more hamilton and ac3 parallels!)

*all clips were from the actual ac games, no copyright infringement intended

[hard-times-paramore]

Okay, I admit there's a bit of a pet peeve I have with "bleeding effect" Assassin's Creed AUs where the ancestors meet Desmond. I can't forget those people have already lived their lives. Like, it's all set in stone. You're just seeing their memories. How their lives already went.

Ezio and Altaïr managed to interact with Desmond across time because of the Apple and other keys of Eden, but that's also gonna be in their memories. Desmond could access his ancestors seeing himself through the Animus.

So when I write Desmond talking to his ancestors because of bleeding effect, I also make him fully aware he's not talking to the real them, but with a hallucination of them, a copy of a copy in his head. Memories of memories. His brain speculating from what he got out of meeting them.

It's sad to think about, but the ancestor in his head isn't the real one. And I think knowing that would hurt, too. Specially for Desmond, who has kind of a shitty family (definitely a shitty father) and he's feeling more connected as a family to the idea of his ancestors than with them.

It makes the fleeting moments he actually managed to reach across time all the more important to him.

[bloodhaven99]

On Fields of Sorrow…

[intoxicated-chan]

❝𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬❞ ✠ 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐜

Inspired by “Army Dreamers” by Kate Bush // Best viewed in dark mode

Shay was scared to admit that he had fallen for Liam’s younger sister, he planned to take his secret to the grave and he succeeded for while until he found you years later, this time, possibly on the opposite sides.

Paring ➳ Shay Cormac x Liam’s Sister!Reader

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader/Assassin Reader, typical Assassin's Creed violence, blood, assassinations, sexual content, death, murder, other tags to be added...

CHAPTERS ↓ Tumblr & AO3 Only

𝐎𝐧𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬❞

𝐓𝐰𝐨 ✠ ❝𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞❞

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬❞

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ✠ ❝𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬❞

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬❞

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @cafekitsune and @benkeibear for the dividers. I use it all the time.

[teecupangel]

what if Desmond was reborn as a fraternal twin to Jenny kenway

Okay, so we know Caroline died in 1220 when Jenny was 7. She reunited with Edward in 1222 when she was 9.

That age is important because…

Here’s the thing…

Caroline died because of chicken pox and her father refused to buy her the necessary medicine to help her. It was an avoidable death but her father didn’t think of her as his daughter after she married Edward, even after she had returned.

Desmond would have noticed this and he would have tried to help but chicken pox is highly contagious and Desmond would risk not just infecting himself but his twin as well.

But he’d still try.

He’d try his damnest even if it meant stealing.

Only for him to return home and his mother is already dead.

Jenny would know that their grandfather had let their mother die from Desmond. He’d try to spare her of that pain but Jenny is smart enough to figure out what Desmond wasn’t telling her. This would lead to a confrontation between the twins with Jenny demanding Desmond to promise to her that he would never hide anything from her ever again.

He promises and they make a pact.

No matter what happens, no matter who comes their way…

They will only trust each other.

At this point, the twins would grow to resent their grandfather but they’ll stay because they’re still young and the pox had weakened their grandmother who loved them. They stay until they receive a message from their supposed father who wants to send for them.

Edward Kenway…

Desmond knew that he was Ratonhnhaké:ton’s grandfather. The name Kenway was simply too much for it to be simply a coincidence. His Bleed of Haytham confirms that his father’s name is Edward Kenway and he has a sister named Jennifer Scott so, yes, Desmond knew who their father is before they met.

So when they boarded the ship that Edward Kenway had sent for them, their grandmother was the only one who went to the docks to say goodbye.

As they watch the port grow smaller and smaller, Jenny takes his hand and squeezes it tightly as she says, “Together?”

Desmond squeezes her hand tight as he answers, “Forever.”

.

Unorganized Notes:

Desmond would start to teach Jenny how to freerun and any non-assassinate skills he could teach a young child (like sneaking).

In Desmond’s defense, he was just trying to get his new body used to moving like an Assassin. Jenny’s the one who saw him doing all those strange movements and wanted to learn them too. 

He knows his sister enough to know that she’ll just try to do it on her own if he doesn’t teach her and that would be more dangerous.

When Edward meets them, he gives Jenny the flower but wasn’t sure what to give Desmond so he gives him a doll that looked a bit like an Assassin. Desmond takes the doll and actually smiles because the simplicity of the doll make the robes look like a Levantine Assassin’s robes. 

Edward knows they’re both sneaky kids and he finds it amusing. Jenny is the one who usually talks for the both of them and Desmond is more of a quiet child. Edward isn’t sure why Caroline would name him Desmond though. (His birth name is Emmett but that’s the name of the asshole who let his daughter die so Jenny and Desmond both decide he should have a different name. The only people who know him as Emmett are their grandparents since they’re only known as the Scott children in Bristol)

Edward doesn’t do their already distant relationship any favors going to Macau and leaving them with his new wife who’s not used to having children, especially not her own. Desmond doesn’t know if there is truly any love there or Edward thought they needed a mother or maybe he was after her fortune or maybe it was all three and, honestly, Desmond doesn’t care. Edward was fond of Tessa though but Desmond doesn’t know if that’s love or just… affection.

The twins grow up distant from Edward but Desmond can’t help but be kind to Haytham because he’s just… an innocent young boy. 

In this one, Jenny becomes an Assassin because she already showed she has the skills and drive to be one. Edward tried to stop her but it fell on deaf ears and, really, Edward knew he was going to lose that battle because Desmond was 100% behind her. 

Haytham grows up being taught by both Edward and Desmond with Desmond being more upfront with them being Assassins in an effort to dissuade Haytham into becoming a Templar.

Tessa is pushing for Desmond to get married though and Desmond assumed that it was Tessa’s own way of looking out for him or something. They’re not close but Tessa does care for them.

Birch still weasel his way into the family both as a business partner and as a suitor, although Jenny and Desmond are definitely sus of him but Birch knows that Desmond is an Assassin (but not Jenny because that’s hush-hush even in the Brotherhood) so he hides his tracks better this time around.

Still, the attack in Kenway mansion happens while Desmond was away but they didn’t account for Jenny being able to take them down. She’s able to save their father but Haytham still kills one of the thugs to protect his mother.

This ends with Tessa believing that Edward and his children have ‘corrupted’ her son and Haytham is traumatized by both his first kill and the fact that his own mother thinks he is a monster. 

Desmond returns as soon as he can and he hears Jenny and Edward arguing about how Jenny was going to take Haytham away from the Kenway mansion while Edward wants to stay with Tessa.

Desmond and Jenny confront Edward about his decision to stay with Tessa and tensions reach a breaking point with Edward shouting that he won’t lose another wife. This makes Desmond believe that Edward’s guilt for not being there for their mother and losing so many of his friends (include one who is rumored to be someone he had loved) had mixed with his feelings for Tessa and…

Jenny makes the decision for them.

“Fine. You don’t want to lose your precious wife? Then stay here. All you’re going to lose are your children after all.”

And they take Haytham and leave the mansion. 

Uuuhhh… yeah, that’s the end. I mean… I guess the next logical step would be to hunt down Birch while Desmond and Jenny train Haytham, maybe fuck up Rogue’s storyline? IDK. I feel like ending it with pretty much breaking up the Kenway family is such an angst-y end but also… feels like in line with the Kenway Family Drama? XD

Honestly, if you think Desmond would be able to fix the Kenway Family Drama by being Jenny’s twin, I’m sorry, nonny. It would take a lot to fix the Kenway Family Drama and Desmond growing up to watch his mother die after being ‘abandoned’ by his father and because of an uncaring and selfish grandfather would definitely sour his image of Edward Kenway in general. 

But hey… atleast Haytham’s gonna be an Assassin? Yeeeyy???

(if this was too angst-y... shameless plug: here's A Pirate's Son, a fic that has a nicer ending and has Desmond sorta-kinda 'fix' the Kenway Family Drama)

[demigoddessqueens]

cold to the touch

Based off some AMAZING vampire!Haytham art from the ever-talented @wyyvernn , I wrote a couple of headcanons and a one-shot for the Templar

Despite the vampiric and secretive nature of being a Templar, Haytham cares immensely for you. Slightly over-protective to a degree.

If he ever lives a few centuries, the memories of you still remain with him. But it haunts him, perhaps if he was passing by someone and they have features that’s reminiscent of you.

Summary: You knew this life could be cruel, but it was also unexpected that one such as him would be a part of it.

You were too young to remember, but you had lost those who were close in the earthquake. When you came of age into the world, there were few you could call your own.

And it left you embittered. Life dealt you a cruel hand in taking the rest of those close to you, and you entered the world an adult with none.

It was completely unexpected for you to become a Templar, but there was nowhere or no one left to turn to in your life. Yet in this moment, that short life flashed before your eyes in mere seconds.

The candles aligned on the desk eerily filled his face. Dark shadows across the sharp features and fangs that ever so protruded from the corners of his mouth. Him, the mysterious leader of the order. It was striking, compelling, but you kept face in the presence of one who plagued all the cautionary tales you heard in your younger years.

Unbeknownst to you, Haytham was waiting for a reaction from you. Most who saw his supernatural nature cowered or looked for the nearest exit.

There was no sign of that in your expressions as you recited back the Oath to him, swearing fealty to the cause.

Given that you knew how to survive and where to look or go, Haytham took a liking to the knowledge you provided. Of course reconnaissance took place right as dusk set in. It must have been an odd sight to see yourself trailed by an imposing cloaked figure.

Though it was a professional union, Haytham respected your skill. Maybe a twinge of pity for you, but he would never admit it out loud let alone to himself.

Still, he enjoyed your conversations even if they derailed into learning more about you. Favorite foods, color, even down to the most mundane details you didn’t pay much attention.

Was it boredom or just a fascination with the one who less afraid than most?

It clenched at your heart to have one take somewhat of an interest in you. There was never a definitive moment you recall such a time, but there was more to it. Thoughts that clawed relentlessly at your mind.

There’s a sadness to you, Haytham. You may not see it or admit to it, but it’s in your eyes when you talk.

I can feel it in any room, like a cold spot that draws everyone’s attention. As much as I enjoy our talks, I worry that there will be a day when we won’t be able to have them.

And I could never wish that sense of false hope onto anyone, let alone you.

[haytham-loves-chocolate]

A small draft I’ve thought about (sappy prompt #16 is included somewhat in this)

“Why can’t I kiss you? Why won’t you let me kiss you?”

Her cries silently breaks his heart, seeing him walk away without a glimpse or touch of affection. His body turns to see her posture tensed, her hands clenched into fists then back to hands, her glossy eyes, her biting her lip, the anxiety of all this finally getting to her. That she feels like she isn’t loved by the one she gives her all for.

“You know I’m always here for you.” He tries to calm the situation, which only makes her angrier.

“You’re not now. Right now, I don’t know what the future is going to be for us, for me. And I’m afraid. Afraid to lose you, lose me, my mind, and, I wish I could go back in time to see you again. I want to so badly, don’t you see?”

“You have never been touched.” His hands close together behind his back, and his demeanor, his lips, the furrow of his eyebrows. It’s like he can read her through. “A gentle hug, to let your heart out. Would you like me to do that?”

“I, I think it’s what I need, yes.” She wipes the tears that dare to drop down her cheeks with the palm of her hand, and her fingers brush off the ones stuck on the baggy eyes of hers. More like veins bulging through the skin, to make a line of purple under her eyes.

He doesn’t need to say anymore words, as her feet start to walk, her tears streaming down her face, and finally feels release in his arms. His gentle hug, breaks her down into a broken shell, a part of herself that was begging to exist now does. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, just there, is he. He rocks her side to side, slowly as he hears her cries. Her head falls on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying her best to calm down.

“Let it all out, love.”

That sentence sends her reassurance, a calming reminder that she has someone to cry on. That his touch is… loving, caring, and a peaceful one.

[cut-small-but-deep]

Haytham Kenway x Enola Rossingol: “I wish I never met you.”

This is going to be in the style of Forsaken, so journal entries, but mainly just one. This is going to be after Haytham’s death and is in Enola’s POV, meaning first POV so don’t be confused. For the idea of this, it’s from his passage about Ziio dating August 1st, 1755. So, if you’re looking to be angsty or cringy by my writing, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Enjoy.

Warning: Angst, Dramatist things, some god cursing words, and a lot of ummmm… poured out feelings for the man

Here’s the passage I’m talking about:

Haytham’s Journal; 1st of August, 1755

“Do I love her? That question I find difficult to answer. All I knew was that I enjoyed being with her and came to treasure the time we spent together. She was . . . different. There was something about her I had never experienced in another woman. That “spirit” I spoke of before, it seemed to come through in her every word and gesture. I’d find myself looking at her, fascinated by the light that seemed permanently to burn in her eyes and wondering, always wondering, what was going on inside? What was she thinking? I thought she loved me. I should say, I think she loves me, but she’s like me. There’s so much of herself she keeps hidden. And, like me, I think she knows that love cannot progress, that we cannot live out our lives together, either in this forest or in England, that there are too many barriers between us and our lives together: her tribe, for a start. She has no desire to leave her life behind. She sees her place as with her people, protecting her land—land they feel is under threat from people like me. And I, too, have a responsibility to my people. The tenets of my Order, are they in line with the ideals of her tribe? I’m not sure that they are. Asked to choose between Ziio and the ideals I have been brought up to believe, which would I choose? These are the thoughts that have plagued me over the last few weeks, even as I have luxuriated in with these sweet, stolen hours with Ziio. I have wondered what to do.”

20th of September, 1781

The cries that came from my lips, the pitch that a dog would make, I never want it to come out again. Thankfully, I am alone, myself… alone. Why in the hell would I feel for this? This overwhelming, burning feeling, this love that aches and breaks each time I reread those words. It’s exhausting, but still, I keep reading it. “Do I love her?” Again, I read, “Do I love her?” What have I done, how could I have not known? Whatever selfish acts I did, that outcome that came to be… was it all just a distraction? His distraction, the pain he must have felt, while I was, for weeks, weeping because I didn’t have him, the man I wanted for so long. The man that a woman would fight for, die for, loathe and want. Like me, me, the one that tossed myself in his arms like a weeping baby, pleading and begging for one chance at a glance of his affection. I gaze upon that past, that one wrong, that felt so right. He was there! I had him right where I wanted him, dammit! And yet, I only had a tiny piece. Ziio had the rest. When she passed, the pieces scattered like no other, to where no one else could reach.

Ashamed, I weep, again, and again, I weep. I wonder now, what I should’ve wondered then, what if? What if I didn’t become his side lover? Did he love me? No. I know he did not, for I know not, he didn’t write about me anywhere in his book. Connor, he gave me his journal, to read it, and the passage he wrote for the memoir of his own father, so that I might react blindly. All his secrets he shared, all the feelings that went through his head, what he went through. I am sorry, my friend, my companion, my-my mentor. I’m even afraid to call you lover in my own writing, that’s how embarrassed I am for doing the one thing I regret doing all this time.

All this time… even now, you’re still with me in spirit, but not smiling, not even looking at me. Ziio is beside you, reunited with you, as it should be. Your smile is with her, your look is at her. I might be hallucinating a little. God, I haven’t slept in days. Your death meant a lot to me, the one person you told me that you would protect with your life. You did, you did exactly that, and at a cost. You only pretended to love me, to adore all the things I did. I know now, I’m such a selfish prick. These tears flow like waterfalls, endless, infinite, impossible to bear without them staining the paper. I wish you were here, what I’d do to have you near me, to only hold me and say my name once more, so I don’t have to sob and worry about the things that might have been. Running off my words, my sentences, I can’t even write anymore! Goddammit, I can’t write a word without a tear, or even speak the words she wrote. Writing is for the minded, for the ones that have ideas and purpose in life. I have none, and will never have any.

My mind exists only for the thoughts of you, dear Haytham. My Eagle that spread his wings and flew too high into the sun. You flew to Venus, to find Ziio and find her love that was kept in her eyes. You flew to Earth, just so you could exist for that time being, then to Mars, where your true colors started to show, the ones that I will never edge out. Then, the invisible gravity, pulled you towards that light, and you burned with a heart of gold and precious stone. I shake my head in awe, how could I have fallen for a man that only wanted a dream to exist, yet his head stopped it, knowing this world is a cruel place, for the weary, for the forsaken, not for a place like me or you. Or Ziio. Or Connor. Or, or anyone and anything that only treated you like a human, not a servant to the god.

I know my time is getting close to its own end. I only wonder what my fate would be, and where, in the afterlife, I would be. With mother? With father? Would I even see you again in that life, so that I may redeem myself? My wrongs that I stressed onto you, brought to your heart that was already broken. Not even alcohol could get rid of the memories I had. You made me happy, you made me feel wanted, alive, and all the things that I could never have with anyone else. I thank you, Haytham Kenway, for my happy love ending.

As I finish writing this journal entry, or diary, if you will, I just hope Connor doesn’t read my other… secluded private diary. Oh, I shouldn’t have said it. Now he’ll want to find it. He’s too innocent, I swear. A beast yes, but a soft one too, and very sweet when it comes down to it. Leaves me threatening messages of assassination on my doorstep, how cute. Other than the puddles of my own tears on the floor, and my clothes stained with the rapture of nothingness, I keep the ring, that Haytham promised me, the one thing that I cherish til this day. This page will prove useful to you. Tehya, my daughter, Connor, his son, do whatever you wish with this. I feel like my use is done, all my fangirl feelings and regret poured out into these last pages. My chapter has come to a close, and anew, my mind has gone blind. The thoughts of Haytham, the thoughts of my mother, and her stories of his father, Edward. They all smile together now, conjoined in harmony in the skies above.

The thing that I will never ever regret: I wish I never met you.

[sassassins-creed]

I spy a new ac writing blog👀

Would you be willing to write something for Shay? Fluff, smut, angst, doesn’t matter to me. I’ve fallen for the Irishman HARD and there’s not enough fanfic of him out there

ah, a kindred spirit.

Getting to date Shay

Shay is, obviously, a very busy man. He spends a lot of time on the Morrigan.

Fortunately, Haytham ends up sending the two of you on a mission together.

He enjoys your company, even letting you steer the ship with his guidance.

Being a fellow Templar (although you had little to no experience when it comes to sailing), you often end up working together, especially since master Kenway sees how well that ends.

He teaches you more and more about sailing and in return, since you've been a Templar for longer, you teach him about the Father of Understanding and other aspects of Templar philosophy.

Also, you're very comfortable in his quarter's on the ship. And in his bedroom back in Fort Arsenal.

You start to make a habit out of falling asleep in his favorite chair as you handle correspondence with master Kenway.

He makes a habit of leaving his coat on you like a blanket when you do that.

He will just have a somewhat bashful smile if you ask him about it. He'll insist he did that because you looked cold, but everyone on the ship can see that's bullshit.

You two complete yourself in battle, which I believe to be the most romantic thing possible. Out of the healthy things I consider romantic, anyway.

He finally actually confesses after you both barely make it out alive out of a mission.

As he helps you wrap a bandage around your chest, he whispers out that he loves you and he couldn't imagine losing you like this.

Although the kiss you share after you tell him you love him too is pretty short, considering you're both still injured.

Gist is the first to find out officially and he's laughing his ass off at Shay for being the last person to realize.

Shay is getting his life teased out of him. But hey, it's worth it.

[sangheilihoes]

Confessions Pt. 1

Warnings: Angst

🫵 @ladysaturnsdust @bloodhaven99 @wyyvernn @konnisart @psybrepunk @heiress-prime @haytham-loves-chocolate @demigoddessqueens @memoriesofafallen @amefuyuu @grandmaster-haytham-kenway @dairsmuids @anli-rambles 🫵

A/n: feels rushed but whatever. Hope you enjoy 🩷

Haytham had been pining over you for weeks, maybe months. You've been friends with him for awhile now, having already known nearly the full extent of what hes gone through, over drinks and vulnerable moments, so he naturally already trusts you. He wanted to make his ever growing feelings known but each time he walked toward you, he panicked, suddenly realizing that you never looked him that way and to ruin such a close, trusting friendship is too hard to bear, so his thoughts were never said aloud.

He hadn’t expected to fall so hard but you filled a part of him he thought he’d lost long ago. You were smart, almost too smart, you could read him when no one else could, you were also inquisitive, eager to learn any and everything. There was also an eye for detail he didn’t have, you could notice a heart shape where he saw nothing. You had a mouth too, you weren’t afraid to speak up if a plan didn’t sound good or if you felt disrespected, the both of you got into arguments because of it but he never got mad, only mildly annoyed. And by gods, you were beautiful. Eyes that seemed to make his heart beat faster when his own met them, hair that made him want to run his hands through, to feel the soft locks run in between his fingers, to smell what shampoo you used and the prettiest lips he wanted to kiss, to feel.

Haytham never loved life, finding it too cold to love but with you, the sky seemed more blue, the trees more green, the flowers and his heart bloomed. No, he would never love life but he would love a life with you, as much as he tried to deny himself such a luxury.

When he had yet another restless night, his sleep filled with nightmares of losing you, dressed simple trousers and a billowy shirt, with his gun on the side. he left his home. He didn’t know where he was going nor did he care but fate somehow lead him to your door. His shaky hand knocked softly, unsure if you were even awake at this point.

‘Well, no going back’ he thought to himself

He waited for you to answer for what seemed like an eternity but was no more than a minute.

“Who is it?” You asked from inside

“It’s just me.” He responded

You opened the door, surprised to see Haytham standing there, looking almost… lost

“Is something wrong, Haytham?” Concern lacing your voice

“No. I… I need to speak with you. Please?” His voice wavered

You let him in without another word, the warmth of you your home inviting compared to the cool night. You were nervous; he looked like he hadn’t slept, his body was slack, hair was down and messy, something clearly wasn’t right.

“Ok, Haytham, cut to the chase, what’s going on?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, I just needed someone to talk to.” He sounded emotional.

Stepping closer, your hand coming to rest on his arm. This wasn’t Templar related was it? You briefly considered grabbing a bottle of ale.

“Y/N… I’m scared.” He finally confessed

“You? Scared? Of what?” You could laugh but he was serious

“You. You scare me, Y/N.”

...Wait, what?! Haytham Edward Kenway? Scared of you?! ‘Am I dreaming?’ You thought

“Why? What did I d-”

“I’m scared of losing you.” He cut you off, his confession knocking the wind out of you. You went to ask why but once again he cut you off

“I have nightmares of losing you; whether it’d be you leaving or dying, I don’t know which is worse. I’ve been so scared to tell you how I feel. You’re my closest friend and I don’t know what’d I do without you.” He paused, taking a deep breath then making eye contact with you.

“Y/N, over these past couple months… I’ve noticed my feelings go from friendship to something deeper. You’ve awaken something long lost in my heart. You’ve been there through finding my sister, losing Jim, Birch, everything. And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t tell you. You have more a soul than I ever could. Not even the gods could compare to you.”

“Haytham…”

“Y/N, I’m in love with you and I’m scared. Scared I’m going to lose this friendship, going to lose you. And I can’t.”

All you could do is stare at him in shock, your face burning. You swore he could hear your heart beating. Suddenly his face fell.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that. I’ll leav-”

“NO! Don’t leave! I-I-” You started but the words couldn’t leave. You had started growing feelings too but never said anything, thinking it would pass but it never did, if anything, they grew. You took a deep breath

“Haytham, I feel the same. You mean the world to me and I’d give anything to not lose you, even if it means not telling you how I feel. You’re such a hardass but I’ve seen the other sides, the softer and vulnerable, it only makes me love you more. And to know that you trust and care about me means the world. Thank you for telling me.”

The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, there was a spark in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” He asked, heart beating out his chest.

“Please…” You responded. Leaning in closer, feeling his body press against yours, his arm coming to wrap around your waist and his other hand coming to cup your face, pulling you toward him. Your hand that held his arm was now wrapped around his neck with your free hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

Haythams lips met your own in a sweet, gentle, tentative kiss. Finally affirming your shared feelings. He felt fireworks go off in his chest, what he imagined your lips to be couldn’t hold a candle to how soft they really were and how perfectly his locked with yours.

Reluctantly, you pulled way, coming to see how dazed and in love he looked. He looked at you like you were the only thing that existed. Suddenly, you found his lips on your again, this time more feverish, desperate to have you and to make up for lost time.

“Stay here, I want you with me.”

“Anything for you.”

[sweetcocopowder]

A New Day for a New Year | Shaytham New Years Special

Synopsis: Having been invited to party for New Years, Haytham drags Shay along. He wishes he was at home instead of here where there's no prying eyes. Watching him. Judging him. Not being able to hold onto the only person he adores at this party.

But little does Haytham know, everyone watches the fireworks. Watches their colours against the dark night. Everyone but Shay, who is only looking at him.

Word Count: 2.3K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Notes: I wish you all a happy new year! 2024 is here! Scary haha

The last time Shay Cormac was at Two Bends, he had assassinated Lawrence Washington.

Haytham would have known that already as far as Shay’s knowledge of him goes. Information around the Templars seems to travel quite quickly. He’s just glad that he doesn’t speak about it to Shay. The guilt of killing a sick and dying man still weighs him down some nights. Despite what Liam had said all that time ago, it hadn’t of help.

Twin Bends hasn’t changed a bit. Still the same old housing, same old dock and same old mansion and garden sitting up on the hill overlooking the bend. People bustle and laugh in the streets and on the dock, all here for the New Years party Haytham has dragged Shay along to. He was hesitant to come at first, but Haytham was persistent. He didn’t say it out loud, but it seemed like the Grandmaster didn’t want to attend alone.

The ship that brought them here wasn’t the Morrigan but instead a private vessel that the host of party had sent out. Mr Shaw -Shay has found out- is a supporter of the Templar cause. He isn’t apart of the Order, he only maintains a friendly relationship with Haytham so that he can stay above the rest. Stay in power and in kindness to that, Haytham receives information and money.

He’s the one hosting this New Years party and the same one that has invited Haytham along. In celebration for this upcoming year for the Order. But that celebration is only for Haytham and Mr. Shaw to know about. All Shay knows is that Mr. Shaw is an acquaintance. A very rich one.  

Haytham leads Shay into the manor’s garden, the Irishman keeping quiet and to himself. The Grandmaster doesn’t bother asking why the normally mouthy man is holding his tongue, he knows the memories these gardens must hold. He can only imagine though, the report on Lawrence’s death had told him everything he needed to know.

And something like that night, the garden is lit with soft orange lamps and flowers bloom on the bushes that line that fences. Everyone is dressed formally, even Haytham and Shay have changed from their usual attire to a couple of suits. Haytham still wears his cloak over his shoulders while Shay has just adopted for a simple black suit with red accents. His hair is done up nicely with a little red bow tie keeping it up. It’s cute but that is something Haytham would never say out loud.

A butler walks past with a tray full of voul-au-vents and with a delicate hand, Haytham picks off two. He holds one of to Shay, but the man’s attention is somewhere else entirely. The man doesn’t normally phase out like this but when he does, he gets caught in his own head very easily.

It takes Haytham twice calling his name to get the man’s attention, “Shay.”

“Hmm?” Shay hums as he looks to Haytham then down at the voul-au-vent being presented to him.

He takes the small pastry from Haytham with a small thanks. It’s gone within a single bite. His nose screws up the slightest but keeping to his good manners at the party, he swallows the voul-au-vent without a word. Haytham takes a bite of his own and silently agrees with Shay, the small pastries aren’t the best.

Haytham peers around the garden with a furrowed brow. Leviticus Shaw is nowhere to be seen. There are some men and women that Haytham recognises but other than that, everyone else are strangers.

“Do you think it’s best to socialize?” Shay asks suddenly.

He keeps his attention on Haytham instead of his surroundings. It seems to help him keep him from diving too deep into old, repressed memories.

Haytham hums to himself as he takes another look around before coming back to Shay with a short, “I think it would be. We should go for a wonder and find the host of this event.”

Shay nods, “Sounds like a plan.”

Despite them looking for Mr. Shaw, neither of them move quickly. They plod through the garden with conversation on their lips. Shay asks of Mr. Shaw, more curious than anything and Haytham is more willing to tell. At one point in their talk, Haytham snatches two glasses of champagne from a passing butler and hands one to Shay without a pause. At least the alcohol is better than the food Mr. Shaw is providing.  

-

“Mr. Kenway!”

Both men turn quick at the sudden shout. Shay looks Mr. Shaw up and down with a hostile sternness in his shoulders. The man is tall and stocky, his suit fitting him snuggly. Shay can almost smell the wealth coming from him and it makes him turn his head away slightly. But he keeps formal for Haytham’s sake.

The Grandmaster and Mr. Shaw shake hands firmly as they greet each other. Haytham looks small compared to Mr. Shaw, the other man as thick as a tree stump. Shay keeps quiet as the two catch up on their lives, then the stocky man’s bright blue eyes lock onto Shay. Like a blood hound looking at a hare.

“So, who is this handsome man you’ve yet to introduce me to, Haytham?” Leviticus asks with a devilish grin.

With a gesture of a hand, Haytham announces the Irishman formally, “This is Captain Cormac, one of my finest to the Order.”

Shay’s chest swells at the small praise from Haytham. He never would have received such words in the Creed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shaw,” Shay says with a short nod of his head.

Mr. Shaw’s eyes slightly widen. “What accent is that? Can’t quite place it.”

“My parents were Irish,” Shay explains.

“Both immigrants?”

At this, Shay is a little hesitant before answering a short, “Yes.”

Within the second, Mr. Shaw’s demeaner changes towards Shay. It’s a subtle change, but Shay picks up on it straight away. It’s the slight curl in Shaw’s lip and the tilt of the chin upwards that tells him all he needs to know.

Shay wishes to leave. But he doesn’t wish to make a scene in front of everyone. Not while Haytham is right next to him. That’s the last thing the Grandmaster of the Templar Order needs. One of his subjects spewing a bunch of shit in front of someone he respects. Last thing Shay wants is to be muzzled like a dog.

Mr. Shaw turns his attention back to Haytham, his features instantly brightening again. He clasps his hands together in front of him as he asks, “How are you enjoying the night so far?”

“It’s good to be here, Leviticus,” Haytham answers back.

“Good. We have fireworks planned when the new year turns over. Will you still be around by then?” Shaw pushes.

“Of course.”

“Wonderful!” Shaw grins. “I’ll come find you later, I have other guests to find and greet,” Shaw explains, his eyes flittering to Shay for a split second.

“That’s alright. I’ll meet with you before I take my leave,” Haytham instructs.

“Good! I’ll see you then!” And with that and a small nod, Mr. Shaw is wondering off into another part of the garden.

In the distant, in the gazebo, a band picks up a soft tune that fills the night. A complete opposite of the blazing annoyance Shay has buzzing around inside his chest right now.

“Can I speak informally, sir?” Shay asks with a low voice so no one can hear but the man beside him.

Haytham looks to him with a single raised brow. “Not here,” he murmurs.

Shay exhales through his nose and calls a butler over instead. Within three seconds, Shay downs one glass of champagne before grabbing two more and passing one over to Haytham. Shay downs the second champagne without a second thought and gives the butler the empty glass. With a wordless look, the butler offers a third glass. This, Shay eyes before accepting and shooing the butler away.

Out of curiosity, Haytham says, “You may speak informally.”

Brown eyes blink at him. “He’s a prick,” is all Shay says.

Haytham bites his tongue to hold back a smile. “I’m sorry?”

“Is he British?” Shay asks. “Couldn’t tell because he doesn’t have an accent like yours.”

“Like mine?”

“Is he?” Shay pushes.

“Yes.”

“Explains a lot.”

At this, Haytham scoffs lightly at the sudden attitude Shay has developed. Shay sips at his champagne as he looks about the party, trying not to down this one glass. But he fails, his glass tipping up, up and up until it’s all gone. He places the empty glass on a passing butler, scaring the man a bit.

Haytham should be a little hurt being a British man himself. But in all honesty, he finds this amusing. He’s well aware of the conflict between Irish and British and he has never fancied himself to be a part of that. Too much effort to hate someone over their birthplace and birthright. Effort he could put towards the Order. But Shaw, Shaw seems to have some effort to use it.

“Don’t let Leviticus get under your skin, Shay. He’s a rich man that only wishes to be known and liked by everyone,” Haytham says as he gives a small pat to Shay’s shoulder.

This, the simple touch seems to calm Shay down a tad. Enough for his gaze to return to Haytham and enough for his shoulders to slouch a bit. At this moment, Haytham wishes that he could bring Shay closer to him. To hold the back of his head as Shay’s face rests in the nook of his neck. But there are eyes about. And so instead of this, Haytham gestures with his head to continue their walk in the garden.

“Let’s walk it off, Shay,” Haytham softly says.

The Irishman straightens himself up and follows Haytham with a newfound will of bliss. As they walk, Haytham slowly sips on his own drink. The two of them keep to themselves, not too particular in conversating with anyone else but themselves. The only company Haytham wants tonight is Shay. That is enough.

Tonight, almost never happened. Shay had business in Albany that he was set to sail out for. He had celebrated Christmas loudly with Gist and his mindset had quickly come back to the Order. So, skipping New Years was something he could put up with. But with Haytham’s stern invitation -the only reason he was stern is because he didn’t want Charles Lee joining him- Shay had come along.

Being so deep in the garden, -only a few people pass here and there- the first pop of a firework has both of them looking up to the night sky quick as anything. Red shimmers across the sky, then another pop and a bright blue joins. Haytham watches with a softness for a moment. For he finds his gaze turning to Shay.

Big brown eyes are lit up with the colours of the sky. A small smile is spread across his handsome features, something that is infectious. Feeling the gaze, Shay turns to meet Haytham, his smile widening.

For the second time tonight, Haytham wishes he could embrace Shay. Wishes he could hold him in his arms like so many other couples tonight. He wishes he wasn’t someone so high and respected so that he could reach out to Shay in a loving way. But instead, all Haytham gives is the slightest of smiles, a twitch of a lip, before he turns his attention back to the fireworks.

An ache comes to his heart. A jealousy that he cannot outwardly love like everyone else in this garden tonight. That everything he and Shay share can only be shown behind closed doors and shuttered windows. He isn’t watching the fireworks, his mind thinking of other things.

A faint touch comes to his lower back under his cape that brings Haytham out of thought very quickly. Shay pulls him closer and Haytham reacts with a hand pushing on the other man’s chest. His heart beats in his own chest like the popping of the fireworks overhead, but he can feel that Shay’s is steady as anything. A hand covers his on Shay’s chest and squeezes softly. Shay’s face is so close, he can smell the champagne on his breath.

“Everyone is watching the fireworks,” Shay whispers out with a sheepish grin.

Haytham looks around and the few people that are in this part of the garden, their eyes are up to the sky. No one is looking at them. No one cares for their surroundings. Yet still, a twisted paranoia gnaws at Haytham. What if someone is watching.

All worry is swept away as a small kiss is placed to his temple. He blinks at the touch, his eyes still on everyone. But no one shouts. No one gasps in horror at the act. No one utters a word but at the awe of the colours blooming in the sky.

With a little relief inside of his cold heart, Haytham looks to Shay who hasn’t taken his eyes off of him this entire time. He squeezes Haytham’s hand again, a wordless assurance.

Under the fireworks, for the new year that comes, the two share a kiss in the blooming garden. Haytham doesn’t care that all he can taste is champagne. He doesn’t care that Shay’s lips are a little dry from talking in the cold night all evening. He kisses him softly with a hand on the back of his neck before anyone can spot them. They hold onto each other while the short moment lasts. While no one is watching. No one will know. No one will see. Only they will know of this moment that they both will keep to their hearts for the year to come. For the next day will hold something special. And the coming year will be held with all kinds of surprises.

What a happy new years indeed.

[fanfenomenon]

“It is not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us fathers and sons” - Johann Freidrich von Schiller

Basically, Haytham realizes how alike his father and son are, that he sees his own father in the very image of his son.

hey uh so that one scene where connor tells haytham that he has a ship..?? yeah that made me think that maybe connor reminds haytham of edward in some way or another

*all clips were from the actual ac games and trailers, no copyright infringement intended

[ass-ass-ins-creed]

Role Play Info:

Characters I play:

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Eivor Varinsson (Sorry, only male Eivor)

Tarben

Sorry the list is so short. I’m learning Haytham and Basim.

Yes:

18+ only. DNI if under 18. Preferably 21+.

NSFW (any detail, also yes to kink)

Trans!Connor, Trans!Eivor (trans men only)

M/M pairings

Taboo

AU and canon

Angst

Hurt/comfort

Fluff

Domestic cuteness

Traumatic pasts

No:

M/F

Female Eivor

Bestiality/p*d*philia

Domestic violence/abuse where the current partner is the abuser (past ok with different partner)

Race bending

Genderswapping

Major character death

Extreme gore

Extreme kinks (ie: vore, cannibalism, scat, urine, vomit, etc)

Experience:

I have 20 years of experience role playing and writing. I just started writing for Assassin’s Creed after a long period of time, but I easily got back into the swing of things. I tend to role play in paragraph form, not only a few sentences. If we role play, be prepared for an adventure and longer conversations. I tend to not write in full detail and thoughts can be rushed, but it turns out well.

Role Play Status:

Currently OPEN and available for role play.

Where to Role Play:

I prefer Discord, as it is easier. If you want to contact me on there, my username is Jupiterfox. Otherwise, DM me.

I may one day make dedicated role play blogs. I have many many years ago, but we will see.

Availability and Response Time:

I do work a full time job as an EMT, so you might not get immediate responses all the time. Sometimes I tend to take longer as I am either distracted or taking my time to come up with a good response.

I will get to you as soon as I can, within the day.

Other Notes:

I will NOT role play or interact with minors. Please do not lie about your age because I will find out. I always do.

Message me on Discord or here and let me know if you have any ideas for a role play. If not, tell me who you play, what you want out of this role play, and a little bit about yourself. How long have you been roleplaying, your age, what you’re open to, not open to, and your role play style.

If you’re ok with casual convo, let me know. I tend to check in on people and just talk about day to day happenings. I might also flood you with memes, fan art I find online, etc.

Can’t wait to role play again :)

[turtlesaph]

Writing Prompts/Requests/RP

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Hello! Welcome to my listy! My rules are relatively simple. I don't do smut, kinks, incest, degrading matters, super sexual or sexualized content, multiverses or crossovers. I try to stick to the universe of the character personally. I will do platonic or romantic connections. I work a fulltime job so please be patient if I don't immediately respond.

I'm a story driven person so I love adventure, angst, fantasy, comedy, trauma/drama and some fluff. I do requests and/or RP (RP sticks to Discord). So feel free to ask me anything or request anything! Please share your thoughts, feelings, conspiracies, theories, head-canons and anything else related to the characters I write for!

CANON CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR::

Albert Wesker (Resident Evil)

Claire Redfield (Resident Evil)

Sesshomaru (Inuyasha/Yashahime)

Naraku (Inuyasha)

Toga (Inuyasha)

Kirinmaru (Inuyasha/Yashahime)

Slade (Teen Titans)

Jace Beleren (Magic The Gathering)

Darth Vader/Anakin (Star Wars)

Alex Mercer (Prototype)

Haytham Kenway (Assassin's Creed lll/Rogue)

Ganondorf (Legend of Zelda)

Rauru (Legend of Zelda)

Volga (Legend of Zelda)

Twinrova: Koume & Kotake (Legend of Zelda)

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel)

Lilith (Hazbin Hotel)

Vecna/001-One/Henry Creel (Stranger Things)

Niklaus Mikaelson (Vampire Diaries/The Originals)

Caroline Forbes (Vampire Diaries)

AVAILABLE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR::

Haleru (King Rauru's brother) [Legend of Zelda]

Alanis (Overlord Sinner fox) [Hazbin Hotel]

Laviel (Slade's Apprentice/antagonist) [Teen Titans]

Locus (Teen Titan/hero) [Teen Titans]

These lists will not include everyone I write for, just the ones off the top of my head.

MY DISCORD IS:: aschrach

(Posted with half of the tags, will do another with the rest)

[teecupangel]

Hello, me again! (I feel as if I'm bothering you..)

Now, this has been in my head for a bit;

But what if Ziio married Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton was raised as a Templar? (Feel free to give him another sibling or two, as well. ^^)

Sibling!Desmond as well, cause not. XD

Also, let's throw Mrs Davenport and Conner Davenport into this as well, say they survived typhoid fever. Would Conner Davenport be trained as an Assassin?

(I'm totally not asking because I lowkey wanna make Laura a Templar now XD)

(It’s no bother. I actually feel a bit bad since I’m like… 10ish days late on asks and 2ish months late on reblogs/replies XD)

Let’s go for the funny things first.

Charles Lee will become Ratonhnhaké:ton and his siblings’ reluctant emergency babysitter. There is no escape. This is his fate. Charles Lee is that annoying ‘uncle’ that sucks up to their father too much so they don’t like him.

Shay could be everyone’s favorite uncle but I doubt it since we’re keeping Abigail and Connor alive. One of the hints that Achilles wasn’t fit to be the mentor was the conversation Shay and Liam had about how the death of his family changed him. Also, I stand by my headcanon that Abigail acted like everyone’s mother and she helped kept Achilles grounded and reminded him to not be brash. So there’s a high possibility that Shay wouldn’t defect in this one but would probably become distant with the Brotherhood due to Lisbon, acting more like a Rogue Assassin that focuses on making sure any Isu-related devices wouldn’t be used by either faction. So Shay could be an uncle of sort but more like ‘that annoying man who keeps getting in everyone’s way’.

Connor Davenport would definitely be an Assassin and might even be trained by Shay himself (although it’s more possible that he’d be trained by his father, Hope and Liam). He would also inherit the Aquila and, if Shay doesn’t become a Templar, he’d see Adéwalé as his sailing instructor as well.

Now, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Laura would have no problem becoming Templars. Hell, they could have looked up to their father and wanted to follow his footsteps. Even if Kaniehtí:io had reservations about it, she wouldn’t stop them from following their desires, only stopping them long enough to remind them to always think about their actions and taking responsibility of the consequences of their actions. The Templars in this one would definitely side with the tribes because Haytham is not impartial anymore and none of the Templars would disagree with him.

And that’s where we will hammer in the angst. Because the youngest of the Kenway children is Desmond Kenway and he remembers his life as Desmond Miles. Becoming a Templar would feel like a betrayal not only to the memories of Altaïr and Ezio but of the Assassin Ratonhnhaké:ton. He loves his family, he truly does, but there are many times when he wondered if this life of theirs was better than the life Ratonhnhaké:ton had back in the original timeline. Sure, he had lost his mother and he was forced to kill his father but… would the world truly be better if he lets the Templar take over America?

Can he truly kill the Assassins trying to stop them? (Even if some of them were dealing with the morally dubious part of the cities?)

Honestly, this can go either way with Desmond. Either he followed the path of the Templar to change it form the inside, becoming a beacon to the moderate Templars like Monsieur de la Serre and his cohorts in Paris and pushing for peace with the Assassin (which will lead him to be in conflict with Haytham who doesn’t believe that the two faction would ever be at peace) or he leaves the family he loves and becomes an Assassin to stand against them (and maybe having some kind of “are we allies? Are we enemies? What are we???” relationship with Connor Davenport).

Either way, there’s gonna be Kenway drama and it’s definitely going to be because of Desmond Kenway.

(sidebar: even if Desmond becomes a Templar, he would definitely have a “are you my enemy or are you trying to help me???” relationship with Connor Davenport, mainly because he still remembers the sadness Ratonhnhaké:ton felt when he heard of how Achilles lost everything and because Connor Davenport is pretty much the most acceptable Assassin in America at the moment. Laura and Ratonhnhaké:ton would definitely mistake this to some kind of forbidden love, no matter what Desmond says. Haytham would stress that he isn’t mad that Desmond likes men, just disappointed that Desmond likes an Assassin. Kaniehtí:io believes Desmond doesn’t have any romantic feelings for Connor Davenport but also she enjoys seeing her family get overworked by something like this.)