#Shaytham fluff

[sweetcocopowder]

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

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

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

Thank you

Prompt 4 / Shaytham

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

Word Count: 2.4K

Warning: Violence. Blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, aye,” Shay mocks.

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

“That was foolish of you,” Haytham comments.

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

“Getting stabbed?” Shay asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To that, Shay’s grin only grows wider.

-

:)

[fanfenomenon]

can i just say how much i enjoy long distance relationship fanfics of shaytham

GOD... imagine haytham writing letters to shay while he sails the high seas, telling him how much he misses him and that he will wait for him to come home. sometimes i also like to think that haytham sprays perfume on his letters, but he doesn't do it often because it makes him feel like a teenage girl lmao shay on the other hand misses him dearly as well. he writes and writes on his desk in the morrigan, throwing away letters that he doesn't find to be perfect enough to send haytham. he cares so much about everything he writes on the parchment, because not only is he his lover, but he is also his grandmaster, and there is still this invisible barrier between them that keeps shay from writing down his true feelings. but haytham writes so casually, even though he makes it a point to keep his handwriting neat and punctuations correct, he is able to write what he truly feels. he is upfront about his love for shay, while the latter expresses his with innuendos hidden in his letters.

but when shay comes home, he suddenly finds the ability to be more direct. he initiates intimacy and physical touch while haytham hesitates, and now it's his turn to feel a sort of invisible barrier between them. even so, shay pulls him close, feeling the warmth he's yearned for so long.

[krankittoeleven]

Fanfic Tag Game

Thank you thank you for the tag @brasideios! I think some things have changed since last time I did this and there's some new peeps around so here we go!

1. How many fics do you have on AO3? 18

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 226,152

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently JJK, Trigun, Assassin's Creed and Final Fantasy 12 (LMAO) are fandoms I have fics in progress for that will likely see the light of day. That's generally what I consider a fandom I "write for".

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. But Like a Refugee (Trigun 98, Vashwood, E) 2. Because the Night (Trigun Stampede, Kniveswood, E) 3. we were hungry before (JJK, Nanago, E) 4. Sweets for the Sweet (Trigun 98, Vashwood, T) 5. a prelude to infinity (JJK, Nanago, M, WIP)

Jeez, Trigun and JJK really just told all my other fandoms to move over lol

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yep 99% of the time. If I miss something it's not intentional.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really think I have one posted at the moment. I usually resolve my angst or give a fic at least a hopeful ending. Some things coming down the pipeline might fit in future iterations of this post, though. lol

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sweets for the Sweet, probably. It's pure, unadulterated Vashwood fluff.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not specifically on AO3, but I've gotten anon hate here (that seems fic related) and I just snort, delete and move on.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, these days I tend to write fairly explicit but still vanilla sex. Haven't felt like writing anything particularly wild lately, but not against it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I wrote a GO/Cosmic Horror fic ages ago that is lost to time and space (fried hard drive and purges). Other than that I have started a ton of crossovers but never finished any. I am however nearing the completion of a Trigun/JJK crossover (Midvalley the Hornfreak/Nanami Kento for the 2 people in the world this might interest LOL) It was supposed to be crack for cracks sake but it became crack treated seriously. LMAO

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet, but maybe soon?! Got asked for permission in regards to we were hungry before, so we'll see if that happens! :D

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No but wouldn't be adverse to it. I've done writer/Artist collabs before, though.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I refuse to pick only one, deal with it. :D Kenren/Tenpou (Saiyuki Gaiden), Ineffable Husbands (GO), Vashwood (Trigun), Kakairu (Naruto), Shaytham (AC Rogue), Ubba/Vili (AC Valhalla), Nanago (JJK), Balthier/Basch (FF12), Ignoct (FF15). Throughout every fandom I will apparently fall face first into the ground for any variation of the stoic introvert/excitable extrovert pair.

15. What’s a fic you’d like to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I will not doom any of my WIPS to that fate. I remain optimistic that I'll finished them all.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Writing dialogue, banter & humor.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I know I have plenty of technical weaknesses with writing, but my true weaknesses are just not executing the idea I started with and terrible follow through/commitment to finishing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Whatever someone wants to do with their fic is fine by me. I do what I need to do to get certain points across.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Saiyuki

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

We were hungry before (JJK, Nanago, E) and Water of Life (AC Valhalla, Ubba/Vili, E, WIP) because I've put my blood sweat and tears into both of them (lots of tears, for real). Also, they both take me home (JJK, GetoNanaGo, M) because, for once, a fic turned out EXACTLY like I wanted it to.

I will tag @madnessmadness, @beelzebby666, @lifewtr, @akashadarkblade, @troublemakingrebel, @vault-heck. I think most of my other writing mutuals have been tagged. If I missed you feel free to join in, I've truly lost track of who does and doesn't write these days.

[ao3feed-xicheng]

Clarity

by Shaytham It's as if the morning fog has lifted, and he is seeing the world for the first time in stark clarity - finally waking bruised and bloody from the never-ending nightmare. But, the thing about reality is that it isn't kind or gentle. It just is. Reality hurts. Truth hurts. Love is absolute agony, but in love there is also healing. Lan Xichen stares at the small silver bell in his trembling hands, its violet tassel wound loosely around his fingers. For the first time in a long time, he feels something dangerously close to hope. Words: 2817, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Qiren, Jin Ling | Jin Rulan, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Original Characters Relationships: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin/Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Constipation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, until it's not, Courting Rituals, Idiots in Love, Drunken Shenanigans, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gay Panic, Post-Canon, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Character Study, POV Alternating, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Eventual Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Disassociation, First Kiss, First Time, Virgin Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Virgin Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Wedding Planning via https://ift.tt/DH7aO2t

[glacierllane]

For prompts #7?

Thanks for sending me the prompt! I hope you like it :)

7. “How about we put the gun down and talk about this?”

“Pay up! You lose again, lad!” A hearty laugh sounded from across the table. The old man slammed his ale down, which shook the board game slightly. They were playing nine men’s morris, and Shay was losing. Badly.

He shoved the pouch full of coins to the old man and drank from his cup.

“Again!” Shay bellowed. It was his… What? Sixth game? And he was hellbent on winning. Not sure if it was the alcohol or the built up frustration from losing that made him want to go again, though… The old man happily indulged him, he was making a pretty penny out of it. “Well you ain’t gonna win, lad,” he reset the board and took another sip of ale. Shay took his white piece and placed it on the board. Wait— that’s not where I wanted to— The old man took the place he intended by placing a black piece on it. Shay shook his head. What’s wrong with him? Everything seemed slightly blurry…

“You lose, lad!” Another hearty laugh. What? Already?! Without thinking, he grabbed his gun and aimed it at the old man, scowling. At an instant the old man grabbed his own gun and aimed it back at Shay. “What’s a matter, lad? Sore loser?” Yet another laugh, and this time the crowd around them joined him. Shay growled, he swore he will shoot—

“How about we put the gun down and talk about this?”

Haytham… When did he get here? 

“Shay, put the gun down,” Haytham coaxed, his hand in front of him. Shay did not falter. What was the point, really? The old man wasn’t even afraid of him. “You’re drunk, Shay. Stop this madness,” The Grand Master tried again in a more demanding tone.

Suddenly the barrel of the pistol turned to aim at him. A deep scowl formed at Haytham’s lips. ”You dare point that thing at me, Shay?“ Haytham berated, clearly getting more and more annoyed by this whole ordeal. The man really needed some self control when it comes to alcohol.

Shay gritted his teeth, finger tight on the trigger. Out of all the blurriness, he could make out Haytham’s worried face and he faltered for a moment.

“Shay—!“

There was a loud crash and everything went black.

Shay woke up with a fierce headache. Rubbing his temples, he tried to sit up but a sharp sting on his side made him slump back down. What had happened? He couldn’t seem to recall much. Just a flash of unbridled rage at a… board game?

“Ah, you’re awake,” the spiteful tone of the Grand Master rang through his ears. It was then he realised he was back in his room in Fort Arsenal, stripped down to his underclothes and tucked in his bed.

“What… happened?” Shay muttered weakly, massaging his forehead.

“You tried to shoot me,” Haytham said flatly as he poured himself some tea from the pot on the bedside table. Shay snapped his head to him in surprise, and ended up clutching it in pain again. “Did I really?!” He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows. How can he ever make up for that? “My head hurts…” Shay groaned. It was like someone had slammed his head on the table…

“It should. But I doubt I knocked any sense in you at all,”

Ah, so someone did slam his head on the table. Shay groggily crawled over to where Haytham stood beside the bed. He was stirring sugar into his tea. When Shay reached up to touch him, he walked away to sit by the fire. He knew Haytham was cross with him. The man had always advised him not to drink too much, lest something like this happens.

Though his head hurt, Shay forced himself to stand and walked over to Haytham. He threw his hands around him and nuzzled his hair. “Get off me, Shay,” Haytham muttered in a cold tone, which made Shay pout. But he wasn’t going to back away that easily. “I’m sorry,” Shay mumbled into the man’s shoulder. He heard the click of Haytham’s tongue and felt his hand try to pry him away. “I try to take care of you, of which you try to shoot me in the process, and that’s all you say? ‘I’m sorry’?” Haytham said.

“I swear it won’t happen again…” Shay pecked Haytham’s cheek and buried his face into the man’s neck. “That’s what you said last time, Shay. If you will not listen to me, then next time I’d rather let you wake up in a ditch like you usually do than drag your arse all the way back here,” Haytham set his tea down and pried Shay’s arms away with both his hands. “You know I wasn’t really gonna shoot you…”

“Sure you weren’t, Shay,” the sarcasm was really apparent in his voice. “Really, Haytham… I would never… Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Shay gave up and retracted his hands, frowning. He just stood there, beside the chair, a pitiful look on his face. Haytham looked at him. A long stare, which made Shay look down miserably. He flinched when he felt his head throb again.

Finally, Haytham sighed in defeat. “Come here, you,” He said, pulling Shay into his lap. Shay happily went with it and snuggled against him. “You can make it up to me by not getting yourself in that situation again. Have some self-control, Shay,” Haytham planted a kiss on his scar, just above his eyebrow.

“Yes, I promise… For real this time,” Shay snuggled closer against him.

“Here, have some tea. It’ll help with the headache.”

[thekenwayfam]

I have a whole 2 weeks off yay. So I decided to do a little mystery game. I have 162 ideas that I have gathered over some time. If you want.

You can request the number and ill write that prompt for Shaytham (unless you request a different ship but I can't promise I'll write it. I'm more likely to write ships from ac1- ac4) and ill write a small fic about it. They are all different Au's. They could be Fluff or angst. I can't promise anything ;)

All you have to do is send a number to me. If that number has been done before I'll do the next available one.

Good luck and enjoy.

[heartoferebor]

[Fic] Safe

Series: Assassin’s Creed:Rogue Characters: Shay Cormac, Haytham Kenway, short appearance by Christopher Gist Pairing: Shaytham Rating: T Length: 3,846 words Summary: Shay gets kidnapped by a gang who wants to use him to get back at Haytham. Shay isn’t delighted. Haytham isn’t, either. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Shaytham being awesome cause yes, happy ending!!!! Notes: More Shaytham for y’all. Won’t be stopping the fic for these two any time soon (three more are in the works!). Also shoutout to the Shaytham fandom which is all around filled with fabulous people.

“Master Kenway is coming?” Shay resisted the urge to shake his head again in order to clear his thoughts. […]

“He is, and alone at that. At least if he values your life at all.” The gang leader gave a dark laugh.

“You…used me as a pawn to force him to deliver himself into your hands? You purposely angered Haytham Kenway?” It was all that Shay could do to stop himself from gaping at their stupidity. Had they truly thought that this was their best shot at defeating the Templars? “My condolences.”

Read on AO3

[hopeatermain]

What I wrote and plan on writing.

INFORMATIONS ON WHAT I WILL WRITE ABOUT UNDER THE CUT. WILL UPDATE IF NECESSARY.

Okay. I am now going to explain exactly what I plan on doing on tumblr: write an Assassin’s Creed/[PROTOTYPE]/InFamous: Second son story, with a lot of one-shots linked to the main story, one way or another. To read the stories, you just have to click on the bold, italic and highlighted titles at the start. Linked to the story, I already wrote:

Are you okay?, a one-shot establishing the relation between Arno and the three other assassins of Unity. This is the background of the three other assassins.

Fucked up shit, a one-shot that explains why Desmond and Alex know each other prior to the story.

Hey there, little one, a one-shot introducing an OC and explaining how Jacob and Jack met.

Who’s your wife?, a one-shot that seriously implies AltMal and Malik’s first reaction to Maria.

Cercando di flirtate con la signora, a one-shot where Ezio tries to get laid and a twist ending.

The Akomish boy, a one-shot that explains how Desmond and Delsin met during Desmond’s search for an Assassin hideout. Humor and newly formed friendship.

Fabien, a one-shot were Agape asks Thomas about his son, Fabien. Angsty fluff with a dash of romance.

WHAT THE F-, a flash-back on Alex and Desmond first meeting and putting the [PROTOTYPE] part of the conflict on set.

Neutral territory, a heavy spoil for The child of Izanami and Connor and Shay meeting in front of Haytham’s tombstone.

The child of Izanami, a multi-chaptered prologue telling the life of Chihiro Amokin, an assassin/Ninja in Japan during the Kamakura period.

Part 1: Chihiro, a ten years old little girl, ran away from her burned village before meeting the Asashin Grand Mistress, Leiko.

Part 2: each five years, the Shoshinsha of the Nihon Brotherhood must got through a challenge to gain the right to wield a Hidden Blade. Today is the day of the challenge.

Part 3: Chihiro get rid of a target, and you get the framing of the story: Kaori Ikarinoshi, her descendant, as been kidnapped by Abstergo as Subject 13 to relive her memories.

Other Stories I write:

Hopeless Order: An Assassin’s Creed/Danganronpa cross-over.

Prologue

Non-linked to the story:

It’s the last time I’m picking you up, a one-shot were Haytham is forced to pick up his son from a late night party.

New town, a x reader with Arno set in a modern AU.

Other things related to the story I plan on writing:

 Main informations that does not spoil anything.

There will be time-travel shenanigans. Else, I don’t know how to write an Assassin’s creed fanfic.

Some oc’s. Nothing major, just for the backstory.

Unless specified, every one-shot I will write are a prequel to the thing.

Axeman (Edgard), Ice cream (Agape) and Green Coat (Thomas) are all real people and not just Arno’s palette swap. (<= I am bitter and will always be bitter over this.)

Concerning the ships, it will mainly mainly follows the canon, besides serious and heavy implications of AltMal and Shaytham because sue me.

I don’t write NSFW. I don’t know how to write NSFW. So, there will be no sexy times. Sorry.

However, there will be references to sexy time, lots and lots of swearing, shameless usage of google translate concerning foreign languages (but french because it’s the one language I master besides english), blood, body horror because Alex Mercer, maybe good actions scenes, angst that may or may not be well-written, and my horrible sense of humor.

I also have a lot of AU’s and other silly things that I want to write, but none of them will affect my big thing, nor will be as major. So, there is:

Multi-chaptered: Alex is a young psychiatrist who just got out of school and is engaged in a psychiatric institution (asylum) and needs to take care of the modern version of the playable characters in Assassin’s creed. It would be mainly angst and hurt/comfort, with a dash of humor here and there.

Drabbles: Alex, Desmond and Delsin are roommates. Self-explainatory Mainly humor.

Drabbles: Switches between Alex, Desmond and Delsin as Virus-Biomass thing, Assassin and Conduit. Will depend on how I decide to write it.

Drabbles: OTP PROMPTS. I HAVE SO MANY OTP’S. Nothing NSFW, tho. Romance, of course.

One-shot: A Modern!Assassin’s Creed Au were Arno, Edgard, Agape and Thomas are in a poly relationship. Romance and fluff will probably be what it’s composed of.

Multi-Chaptered: Altair (16), Ezio (13), Connor, Haytham, Edward (Triplets and 9) and Desmond (5) are siblings who live in a reclusive town. Their mother (Adha) keeps bringing shitty boyfriends home, and they can only hope of when Altair will be legally and adult and get them out of there. Shay (25) is the father of Arno (8) and Jacob and Evie (twins and 3), and is constantly moving due to Arno’s mother, who is a crazy bitch. When Shay decide that they will hide in a little town for the summer, he finds out that one of his childhood friend lives there. Said childhood friend is Adha. Hilarity ensues as their childrens decide to set them up together, for reasons way less hilarious than their means.

Multi-Chaptered: Dance!AU. The dance team of Muamara High, the Hashashins, is about to go for a serious competition against professionals due to one of the low-stand of their team who was given a solo dance, Altair, catching the eye of a Crawford Starrick, a high budget businessman. However, the captain of the team got jealous and expelled him out of the team. Left with only his best friend Malik for support, Altair convinces Starrick to let him perform even if he is not part of the Hashashins anymore. Starrick accepts at one condition: that Altair finds himself a competent team and fast. So of course, he chooses the son of a banker, a native boy with family and anger issues, a guy who’s probably met Blackbeard in a past life, an hopeless romantic and diametrically opposed twins to starts his team, with the washed out father of the Native as a sponsor and a man who got his will to live shattered back when he had their age for a coach. Yeah, this is going to be great. Or not. Humor and drama.

DRAGON AU. I don’t care if I make a one-shot, drabbles or a multi-chaptered thing. Just dragons.

As a thank you for Midnight-Skittles for giving me the idea, I decided to write an Assassin’s Creed/Danganronpa AU. Let the Despair begin!

[ao3feed-assassinscreed]

七宗罪

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/30Cho3e

by Greenplay

一些小段子，Shaytham以及少许Charles/Haytham的七宗罪。

Words: 1941, Chapters: 1/1, Language: 中文

Series: Part 6 of 刺客信条/Assassin's Creed

Fandoms: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Shay Cormac, Haytham Kenway, Charles Lee

Relationships: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway, Shay Cormac & Haytham Kenway, Haytham Kenway/Charles Lee (1732-1782)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Short & Sweet, Seven Deadly Sins

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/30Cho3e

[sweetcocopowder]

A Fool's Life | Shaytham

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

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Internalized homophobia

“We need you to dive back into Haytham.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’ve retrieved it?”

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

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

Course you would, Desmond snaps out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desmond can hear the plea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uuhhh. Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shay bows his head, “I’m afraid so.”

“I see.”

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

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

“No,” Haytham all but mumbles out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haytham you stupid old man.

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

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

“Goodbye, Haytham.”

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

Did they ever see each other again?

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

[sweetcocopowder]

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.

[sweetcocopowder]

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.”

[sweetcocopowder]

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 4

Pt. 3 | Pt. 5

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

And Haytham can't seem to stay away.

Word Count: 3.7K

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

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warning: Vomit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it happens again.

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

The next pebble hits him square in the forehead.

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

“Shay,” Haytham breathes out.

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t!” Haytham replies back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took your time,” the Irish boy chuckles.

“Hey,” Shay smiles.

Haytham returns the gesture, “Hey.”

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

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

“Who’s he?” Haytham asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Haytham finally asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, lets go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” the Irish boy asks.

Haytham swallows thickly. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you like tonight?” Shay asks suddenly.

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

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

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

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

“Never?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

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

“Oh,” is all Shay is able to say.

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

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

“Thank you,” Haytham breathes out.

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

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

“Nice watch,” he comments.

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

“You don’t like it?” Shay asks.

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

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

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

[fanfenomenon]

i think shaytham should get married

do you guys remember that one scene in ac3 where haytham puts the templar ring on lee’s finger when he was welcomed into the order? yeah?

now can we talk about how the devs ROBBED us of potential shaytham scenes where haytham does the same thing but with shay…

IM SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT THIS BECAUSE WHAT IF instead of haytham welcoming shay into the order in front of the other members, they’d do the ceremony in private instead?

iirc, when haytham was first seen in ac rogue, it was already during shay’s ceremony. i always thought it would’ve been better if their first encounter was during a mission, not the other way around like with the actual game where it was after the ceremony haytham started going on missions with shay.

and during those missions, they would’ve gotten to know more about each other, and it would be during these missions their relationship develops.

the more time they spend with each other, the more they had grown fond of the other’s company. haytham would always be willing to listen to shay’s stories, especially during his time with the assassins. shay thinks that by sharing these stories, he’s helping haytham gain more information about his former alliances. yes, but not really, since haytham just likes to listen to shay talk. hes down bad like that and shay is kind of oblivious to it lol

during fights, shay would admire the elegance and technique in haytham’s attacks. how gracefully he wields his sword and stealthily moves across enemy territories. haytham would catch shay staring sometimes, which makes the latter flustered when the former comments on it.

they’d subtly flirt with one another later on, with haytham mostly doing the flirting lmao.

“quit staring. do i really look that good to you?”

“no one expects you to be the perfect grandmaster all the time.”

“you think im perfect?”

shay used to hesitate when it comes to replying to haytham’s flirtatious comments and innuendos, and it took time for him to later become more comfortable with the other man. sometimes he’d catch haytham staring at his figure when he takes off or changes his tunic,

“like what you see?”

and boy was it a sight for shay to see haytham all flustered.

once the missions are finished, haytham realizes it’s time for shay to join their order. he has proven himself worthy of upholding its ideals, but haytham would be lying if he said that was the only reason he wanted shay to join the templars.

he wanted to be with him. always… and forever, if fate allows.

one day, shay visits haytham in his personal estate. at first he would only go there to report on various situations regarding the assassins and templars. but he later would visit more often for no particular reason. shay just likes haytham’s company, but he would never admit that to himself and especially to his boss. haytham didn’t mind his visiting though, in fact he enjoyed the other man’s company as well, not that he’d admit to it too.

haytham greets him, and he thought it the perfect time to perform the ceremony. it was the dead of the night though, and he wasn’t able to inform the other members of shay’s initiation beforehand.

it didn’t matter though. as long as shay was here beside him, everything will be alright.

haytham gently takes shay’s hand, which slightly startled the younger man. the way haytham took the latter’s hand was so gentle, and so unlike him.

“do you swear to uphold the principles of our order, and all that for which we stand?”

only now did shay realize what was happening.

“…i do.”

“and never to share our secrets nor divulge the true nature of our work?”

“i do.”

“and to do so now, until death. whatever the cost?”

“i do.”

haytham softly squeezes shay’s hand, his lips slightly quivering, as if there was more he wanted to say.

“…and…”

shay furrows his brows, he could hear the older man’s slight tremble in his words. worrying, he clasps his other hand onto haytham’s.

“do you swear… to… to pledge your loyalty to your grandmaster, and… to love and cherish him the way he does for you…”

shay stands still, shocked at the words that came out from haytham’s mouth. was this a confession? he doesn’t remember the last sentence being part of the initiation. haytham was looking down at this point, clearly embarrassed at what he had just said a few seconds ago. shay tries to calm himself, but he couldn’t find his words. instead, he brings haytham’s hand to his lips, kisses it and finally replies,

“i do…”

haytham quickly looks up at shay, whose expression was not of shock anymore, but of fondness. he takes a templar ring out of his coat and slides the ring into shay’s finger,

“…then, we welcome you into our fold, brother. you are now a templar, harbinger of a new world.”

shay looks down at his finger, the gleam of the silver ring shining in the dim room. he looks at haytham again, and he couldn’t stop himself from cupping his cheek. haytham didn’t reject it though, he leaned into shay’s touch, bringing his own hand to hold the other’s.

“…and i suppose now the grandmaster will not be dejected to the idea of my being his lover?”

haytham chuckles and leans in to kiss shay’s cheek.

“i suppose not.”

[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.

[sweetcocopowder]

Day Thirty One: Werewolf

Kinktober Masterlist will be posted after October

Synopsis: A blood full moon is it's way and Haytham has had a past experience with a werewolf turning feral on a night like this. He just hopes that Shay isn't the same.

Word Count: 4.7K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Werewolf stuff/Tongue stuff/Size Kink/Ass fucking/Man handling or shit like that/that word for monster fucking/rough sex

Haytham doesn’t knock or make himself known as he enters Shay’s manor. The owner of the estate doesn’t even peer up from his papers he’s currently nose deep in. Striding across open foyer, Haytham throws the newspaper in front of Shay on his table. The man doesn’t even look up to Haytham, only frowning at the paper that has ever so rudely interrupted his reading.

It’s folded open on one of the last pages where the times of the tides are, and the moon cycles are for the month. With a little hesitance, Shay picks up the newspaper and gives a quick skim. His brows furrow and he looks closer at what he is seeing in front of him.  

“A blood, full moon?” Shay asks more to himself.

Haytham pulls out a chair for himself on the other side of Shay’s office and takes a seat on the other side of the table. He takes his hat off and places it on top of Shay’s paperwork that seems to be a mess, but it’s organized on the filer’s account. Shay looks up from the newspaper and chucks it on top of the other papers.

“Never heard of such a thing,” Shay points out.

Haytham hums. “Yes, well. I’ve witnessed a blood moon and it doesn’t take fairly to wolves.”

The Irishman only looks to him for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. But when none comes, he asks, “I’m guessing you’ve come across a wolf during a blood moon?”

“Yes.”

“And how did it fair?”

“Dead.”

Shay nods with his lips thinned. “Lovely.”

Why isn’t he surprised by Haytham’s bluntness at this point. There’s some days where he thinks he’s gotten use to it and then there’s others where it takes him solely by surprise.

Haytham picks up the newspaper and gives it another once over even though he’s read it a good couple of times. He’s dealt with werewolves before, Shay isn’t the first cursed man that he’s come across in his lifetime. But only once has he had the luck of being around one during a blood moon.

For his liking, once was enough. Yet with his relationship to Shay, it seems like he’ll have to go through this situation again.

“What happened during the blood moon?” Shay asks.

Even though Shay is a were, one of the cursed, he is only newly turned. Turned by his once called brother, Liam O’Brien. Changed him on the night that Shay was escaping from the Assassins. A reason why he survived the fall and the cold ocean that greeted him below. Haytham would call it a miracle, while Shay would say something else entirely that children should not hear.

Monroe had informed Haytham of who Shay was from the very beginning. Haytham himself, had seen it as a big risk. A risk not worth taking and that he should just kill Shay before the next full moon came around. But that didn’t happen. Monroe had always been known to have a big heart. Even for a Templar.

“The one I encountered had gone feral. Almost like he was in a rut like state,” Haytham explains bluntly.

Shay is a bit wordless and tilts his head slightly as if a dog would. “A rut?”

“I don’t know how else to explain it,” Haytham admits truthfully with a small wave of his hand.

But at this, Shay sits further down in his seat with a huff. His eyes flicker across the reports and the papers on his desk. He suddenly becomes uninterested in finishing any of this today. Haytham thought he dove too much into his work. But with tracking other ships, plus his own and keeping up to date with gang activity, it all does start to pile up after a while. Haytham is just grateful he has the need to keep his work space tidy. On a good day at least.

“I’m meant to be in Albany on that date,” Shay brings up with a soft chuckle.

Haytham thinks on that. The were that he encounters on the blood moon didn’t know him. It was all by sheer coincidence that the two ran into each other that night.

But Shay and Haytham know each other on a level that not many get to see in their lives. In such a short time, they’ve formed a bond that ties them together through their experiences in life. And in doing so, Haytham has helped Shay with his transformations. Controlling the curse when he changes, he is more placid and more so has to wait out the night until he turns back. He has told Haytham that he still feels the hunger, the urge to rip and shred like the curse ensures upon. But Shay’s will is something stronger than most men.

They haven’t had a bad night since last year. But that could all change with this upcoming blood moon. But it’s Shay. There could be something that Haytham might be able to do on that night that can keep him at bay.

“And you won’t be able to delay your trip?” Haytham asks even though he knows what answer he’s going to get.

“Not if you want to lose a lead with the Assassins.”

As Haytham thought. Always onto something. Can’t stick to one place and can’t let the Assassins rest. Especially not after what they’ve done to Shay. The nickname, Templar Dog has seemed to stuck as what the Assassins call him now. Another one Haytham has heard but hasn’t told Shay yet, is the Grandmaster’s Lapdog. He doesn’t think Shay needs to know of it either.

“I’ll join you to Albany then,” Haytham says as he stands from his seat.

Shay opens his mouth to argue but a hand is held up in front of him. His words get caught in his throat and he shuts his mouth just as quickly. Haytham grabs his hat and straightens himself out.

“I’ve already made it final. Make board for one more on your ship.”

-

The trip to Albany goes smoothly, giving Shay and Haytham a week before the blood moon. But the itch that scratches underneath Shay’s skin becomes more eager with each passing day. He hasn’t felt anything like this since the early days.

To distract himself, he keeps himself occupied with the lead. There are meant to be a few Assassin’s or gang members still lurking around the town even though Shay has ratted them all out. But they like to linger about place they aren’t welcome.

To Shay’s dismay though, the week goes by quicker than he expected. Even Haytham lost track of days with helping Shay try and get this done as quick as possible. But the day of the blood moon comes around the corner and neither of them are ready to leave Albany.

-

Somehow, Shay had convinced Gist to get everyone off the Morrigan for the night. Gist knows of Shay’s curse but has never seen it firsthand. And he has told Shay firmly he will never have the desire to do so. Shay doesn’t blame him though, it isn’t a pretty sight. Haytham, not a man to sugar coat things, has said it’s something out of a nightmare.

The both of them keep to Shay’s quarters as soon as the sun begins to set, hoping this room is enough for the oncoming night. Haytham locks the doors behind him even though he knows it won’t do much to stop Shay from breaking out if he wanted to. He has seen this man charge through thick wooden doors and break bones in fully grow man’s hands. And all that was done without his were form.

Without saying a word, Shay begins stripping down to just his pants. It’s like a routine at this point, all so his clothes don’t get destroyed in the transformation. On his first transformation he had destroyed a pair of clothes that weren’t easy to replace. Nor was it fun waking up in the middle of nowhere butt ass naked on the outskirts of New York.

It was truly a morning to remember. He had ran into Monroe along the way back. The Templar had been looking for him and all he found was a naked, dirty man hiding behind a bush. That was the morning that Monroe’s suspicion came true and when his care for Shay became something along the lines of parental. Or maybe colonel and soldier. Shay will never know.

Haytham takes off his cloak and over coat, along with his hat to make himself comfortable. The night is a bit humid, even for the River Valley. Shay watches him with tense shoulders. A sinking like feeling grips at his throat. An image washes over him, of one of him hurting Haytham tonight. He turns away, eyes straining to the floor.  

Yes, this line of work and this line of life isn’t for the faint hearted. Shay knows, has been made very well known, that Haytham knows the supernatural side of life. Has come into contact with more than one werewolf and on the rare occasion, vampires. But feral werewolves can’t help their transformation, going rabid across the area wherever they hole up. While vampires like to keep hidden in plain sight.

Sounds a lot like the Assassins, but as far as Shay is aware, there were no vampires in the fold. Not while he was there at least. But no sane man goes around telling everyone that they’re a vampire.

Shay exhales slowly as he sits on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. He can feel it. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He’s tried to do so with Haytham. But how do you explain something that only a were can feel. He can feel the coming of the transformation. The calling of the moon that it seems to have. Shay will have to admit, it is the oddest side of being a were.

But there is one thing that does make sense now. The moon has never looked so beautiful. Unfortunately though, he won’t be able to look upon her tonight.

Haytham pulls out the only chair that Shay keeps in his quarters and places it in front of him. The noise is like a hammer hitting metal inside Shay’s head and he flinches away. His senses begin to become heightened; they always do on full moons.

Shay looks up from his hands with a raised brow. The other man sits with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his propped knee. Posh bastard.

“What are you doing?” Shay asks.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” the other quirks as if it’s obvious.

Shay only stares at Haytham for a moment. Wondering how on Earth he has come to this situation. Where he grew up, he was taught with the Assassins that the Grandmaster of the Templar Order is a ruthless, heartless son of a bitch.

And yes, they were right about the ruthless part… and somewhat on the heartless. But there are times like this that Shay is able to see the little bit of softness that Haytham is willing to lend out to the right person. The parts of him that Haytham has kept to himself for so many years.

“Promise me something, Haytham,” Shay begins.

“Hmm?”

“If I do go feral, put me down,” he says bluntly.

Instantly, he can see a cord is struck in Haytham. He’s good at hiding it but Shay has picked up his tell. His eyes slightly squint and he ever so slightly raised his chin upwards. As if he’s just tasted something sour on his tongue or smelt something off.

Haytham looks down to the bracers he still has on his arm. He flicks his hidden blade out, the both of them looking over the silver metal. One blade that has probably taken more lives than Shay has. Haytham isn’t shy of using it, nor waving it around. The sight of it almost says a million words itself. The way Haytham looks over it with his own thoughts racing through his head. Most likely, having to image sticking the blade into Shay’s neck.

He flicks it back in with a satisfying click.  

“Only if it comes down to it,” he answers poorly without looking up at Shay.

At this, Shay only frowns. But he guesses that’s the best he’s going to get. Particularly, out of a man like Haytham Kenway.

-

The two continue to talk about mundane things, about Shay’s hunt for the Assassins and about what they’ve found out in Albany. A couple of hours pass by as they wait for the blood moon to rise above the horizon.

And when it does, both of them don’t need to look outside to know it has.

Shay suddenly stops midsentence and bows his head with a pained groan. His breathing becomes shaky and his whole body tremors. He goes to stand in haste but his knees instantly give way. He falls forward and Haytham is quick to catch him, but Shay pushes him away just as fast. He keeps his back to Haytham, not wanting him to see the full mess of the transformation.

It feels different though. More like rats clawing through something to escape fire. Something burning hot within his core that instantly makes him break out in a sweat. It’s hard not to shout. It’s hard not to give in to the choke sob itching at the back of his throat.

And all Haytham can do is stand back and watch.

On the floor, Shay cowers on his hands and knees. Bones can be heard popping and breaking out of their sockets. The first cry that comes from Shay’s throat is something that Haytham will never get use to. No matter how many times he’s seen Shay’s skin ripple and change as if there’s something alive moving under there. No matter how many times he’s heard bones break to only heal back into stronger, bigger ones. No matter how many times he’s watched Shay’s skull and jaw snap and break to elongate forward into a wolf like snout. No matter how many times he’s watched human teeth get pushed out to make way for long fangs that snap and clash together past the blood that erupts from his mouth.

No matter how many times, Haytham will always feel sick in his stomach at the sight of such an inhuman act of God. He doesn’t even truly know if God has a play at this. This is something else entirely. Something that an average human would not be able to grasp at with their small minds. One where they would be instantly calling this a sin. Something that Satan has bestowed upon them and that needs to be burnt with fire. But something like this would only laugh within the flames. He’s seen a were do it before. A truly terrifying sight to behold.  

Shay grows at least twice his size, his legs twisting into something wolf like and he rips his pants in the process. A thick layer of dark brown fur grows quickly over his body, more shaggy around his neck and face that is so thick that it’s hard to get to the skin underneath. Hard for a blade to get through.

Haytham watches this all unfold in front of him, keeping as still as he possibly can. He won’t lie, knowing the unknown right now terrifies him. Especially as two amber eyes slowly turn his way. A silence falls over the cabin that has Haytham’s heart beating loudly in his ears.  

Shay breathes heavily, panting like a mutt with his tongue lolled out. For a moment, Haytham thinks that Shay is all here. That the blood moon hasn’t done anything to Shay’s will.

But his lip curl up in a snarl to reveal long fangs underneath. Shay tries to stand to his full height, but his head hits the top of the cabin with a loud thud. His ears flick in annoyance but his eyes are locked onto Haytham. Even hunched over, it’s as if Shay takes up half of the cabin. He stands more humanoid than anything but his face is wolf like. It’s short and stubby, his teeth virtually too big for his mouth. It’s something mixed between human and wolf, something that Haytham will only be able to explain as a were and nothing else.

“Shay,” Haytham speaks firmly.

This is only met with a deep, chesty growl that rattles the entire cabin. Haytham is just glad that the crew is gone. Because he wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining this.

Shay jumps forward suddenly and for a moment, all Haytham sees is teeth. But he moves out of the way just in time, feeling claws graze against his shoulder. The loud clack of teeth vibrates against Haytham’s brain as he rushes over to the table. Shay destroys the chair as he lands on it, bits of it going flying. But he doesn’t care for it, he’s already moving Haytham’s way again, claws digging into the wooden floor to gain the space between them.

The amount of force that Shay rushes Haytham as he barges into the table is something that reminds him of a bull. Said table flips over and blocks the only exit, papers and reports flying everywhere that rain down around Shay. Another snarl is spat Haytham’s way and true fear strikes his gut.

Fear that he might have to do something he truly did not want to do tonight.

Shay jumps forward again with every intention of latching himself onto Haytham’s shoulder and tearing off his arm. But Haytham moves before he can think. He ducks and grabs onto Shay’s snout, wrapping his entire arms around and holding tight.

Haytham is thrown about as Shay shakes his head violently, trying to pry this human off of him. This small “victory” is short lived though. Haytham’s grip slips only for a moment, and similar to some raging bull again, Shay throws his head to the side and flings the Grandmaster. Haytham hits the back of the cabin wall with a loud crack. All the wind is crushed out of him and he lands on the floor in a heap.

Shay lands on all fours heavily, shaking the whole ship and prowls over to Haytham. His lips curl up again to show off his fangs, all but dripping saliva as he nears.

Haytham shifts and rolls onto his back so that he’s facing Shay full on. He flicks out his blade, finally bringing up the might to do something. But with how sluggish his mind and body is, he isn’t able to move his arm in time before it’s crushed under one of Shay’s hands. He barks out in pain, not able to retain himself for the moment.

This is how he meets his end then? To his want to not harm someone he loves?

Shay towers over Haytham, his nose becoming mere inches away from his own. Time seems to slow as he looks right into those amber eyes. He stares right back at Haytham and for a moment, he sees Shay. But only for a moment. The effects of the blood moon seem to be something greater than what Shay can break through.

“Shay,” Haytham firmly breathes out finally.

Anyone would find him goddamn crazy right now. They’d be shouting to just kill the thing and be done with it. To fight and lash out or to do anything but be pinned by such a beast. All so this doesn’t happen again. But it’s Shay. He doesn’t think he’d be able to do it. He knows he could, he knows he should, but would he be able to? Now that is a question within itself.

Shay stops his growling and snarling and he just stares at Haytham. The scar over his eye seems more prominent in his were form. One last injury that scarred over before he turned for the first time. Most likely where he was clawed at by Liam, Shay has never truly told him.

Haytham takes a stupid risk and brings his other hand out to Shay’s face. Shay flinches away, but doesn’t move again as Haytham’s hand comes to the side of his large head. The feral look leaves his eyes for a moment again as he lets Haytham touch his cheek. Shay lets go of Haytham’s other arm and quickly, the blade is flicked away.

Shay sniffs him before moving forward ever so slightly. Haytham doesn’t let his guard down, watching this massive form slowly come into his space more so than before. Sniffing him and smelling the fear wafting off him.  

“Shay,” Haytham says again, hoping to get through to the man.

His ribs still hurt and a major headache is coming along. He doesn’t want to be thrown around like that again. Not ever.

But to his name being spoken, Shay huffs. But there’s still a slight crazed look about his eyes. Something that the blood moon is doing to him. Causing him to act out. Some humanity has come back into him, but the blood moon still has its effects.

The next thing he does makes all the sense on his feral behaviour. A clawed hand presses itself onto Haytham’s sore chest and pushes him down onto the floor heavily. Then, his clothes are literally being ripped off him. Ripped apart and thrown away until enough of Haytham is revealed.

A feral rut. That is what the blood moon causes. Something that werewolves can’t control and become insane over.

And all Haytham can do is watch as his heart quickens in his chest. Anticipation prickles at his skin as he watches rows of teeth that were just trying to kill him moments before lower to his crotch. As a hot, thick wet tongue licks a strip over Haytham’s ass, it becomes very, very clear now on what the blood moon does. His suspicions were right.  

But the buzz that washes over Haytham at the odd sensation makes him quickly realise, he’s not all apposed to this. Something so dangerous, so close, yet so arousing. Shay licks another hot strip across Haytham’s ass and up to his balls, leaving behind a thick saliva that feels sticky.

If this will stop Shay from going on a rage in Albany, then so be it. Best keep this act to this room than anywhere else.

Haytham is just lucky that he was able to calm Shay down from harming him to get what he wanted. Any bite from Shay and Haytham would be in the same predicament as him.

Shay licks and laps at Haytham’s ass, using a clawed hand to spread him open for better access. Almost folding the Grandmaster in half and into the floor. The pain in Haytham’s chest melts away at the sensation that overtakes his body at Shay’s tongue. It’s as if Shay can’t get enough of him, tasting his muskiness from today’s work.

This goes on for awhile and Haytham keeps himself in check. All so that he can watch just where Shay’s teeth go. His professionalism is something that does get in the way sometimes.

But all focus is thrown out the window when Shay’s tongue is pushed deeply into his ass all at once. Haytham throws his head back with a deep, grinded groan, his body twitching at the warm, sticky sensation inside of him.

And Shay doesn’t stop. He uses his tongue to lick inside of Haytham, opening his mouth as wide as he can to push as much in. Haytham’s hard cock twitches and bobs with each movement from Shay, precum dripping onto his stomach. Every movement has Haytham panting and moaning noises he never thought he could admit. The bliss that pools over Haytham is something akin to being high.

He can feel Shay’s tongue go as far in as it can get, moving and pressing against the walls of his ass before coming back out. Just to do the same thing over again. Each pass of the tongue hits a bundle of nerve that has Haytham’s breath hitching every time. It’s so warm and Shay breathes heavily, concentrating on his work at hand.

He has never seen Shay’s werewolf form as a means for pleasure or sexual desire. But maybe they should have done this sooner. Just not during a blood moon next time.

Shay removes his tongue, having deemed it being enough. The emptiness Shay leaves behind is something Haytham has never felt such a burning desire to be filled again. But he gets his desire. Shay moves up and over Haytham, revealing the thick cock between the werewolf’s legs.

Haytham swallows thickly as Shay’s big hand hold him down by his shoulders. Painfully pinning him down. All Haytham can do is keep his legs open so that that thing can fit inside of him. Because at this point, he doesn’t think he can stop Shay. Nor does he want to stop.

Shay lines himself up and pushes in a little eagerly. He growls deep in his chest at the warm feeling of Haytham. He dives in deeper, rutting into Haytham bit by bit.

The stretch for Haytham punches the wind out of him instantly. He grips onto Shay’s wrist, not to push him off, but for some kind of support. It hurts. The more of Shay that Haytham takes, the more of the stretch and the fit is painful.

“Sh-ah ah! Shay,” Haytham tries to get through to him.

But it seems the rut of the blood moon has taken a stronger hold than before. Because his rhythm doesn’t stop. He keeps going, panting over the top of Haytham, grunting every now and again. Haytham’s ass is lifted into the air again as Shay gets a better angle to abuse it.

The size of Shay makes Haytham feel like he’s going to split in half. He feels so full. The pain is still there but it begins to feel a little too good, Shay’s saliva helping a lot. With each hard thrust, a moan is pushed out of Haytham as he’s moved up the floor little by little. They keep moving until Haytham’s head hits the base of the bed.

Shay keeps going, his pace quickening to something desperate. Haytham’s entire body feels like it’s on fire, his untouched dick leaking even more than before. Haytham brings a hand to his own cock, hissing at how sensitive he is. He uses his own precum to jerk himself quickly to Shay’s brutal pace. He can feel himself coming close, but he doesn’t know how much longer Shay is going to be at it for. He holds the base of his cock, hoping to hold out until Shay is done with him.

At that thought, Shay goes on for a few more blissful minutes. Haytham gets lost in the pleasure that makes his head a mess. Shay doesn’t let up once. Hitting that spot inside of Haytham that has his head spinning and has him being left breathless every single time. Haytham looses track of time. He gets lost in it all. And he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold out when Shay is finished.

Haytham comes in his stomach, his vision going spotty and black. He doesn’t know if he had his eyes shut or if the orgasm was just that good, but he’ll never know. But his orgasm rips through him like a storm, taking his breath away.

Shay keeps going, fucking him through it and it all becomes a bit too much. Haytham pants and groans as everything becomes sensitive. He can’t even touch his own dick. He holds onto Shay again, just hoping that that were’s stamina dies out soon enough.

Just as Haytham thinks that Shay is never going to stop, the werewolf growls deep in his chest as his movements stutter. He dives his cock deep into Haytham’s ass and fills him up. The hot, sticky sensation that fills Haytham has him catching his breath. It just feels like it keeps going. He can feel Shay’s dick pulsing inside of him, unloading himself until there’s nothing left. Until it’s seeping out of Haytham and onto the floor beneath him.

Haytham has trouble finding air as he falls limp on the floor. Shay slowly takes his softening cock out of him and lest Haytham lay on still. Haytham just hopes that Shay doesn’t need a round two any time soon tonight because this alone, has the more man spent.