#shaytham fanfic

[gococogo]

A Fool's Life | Shaytham

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

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Internalized homophobia

“We need you to dive back into Haytham.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’ve retrieved it?”

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

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

Course you would, Desmond snaps out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desmond can hear the plea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uuhhh. Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shay bows his head, “I’m afraid so.”

“I see.”

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

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

“No,” Haytham all but mumbles out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haytham you stupid old man.

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

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

“Goodbye, Haytham.”

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

Did they ever see each other again?

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

#coco posts #shaytham #shaythaam fic #shaytham fanfic #shay cormac #shay cormac fic #shay patrick cormac #haytham kenway #haytham kenway fic #haytham kenway fanfic #haytham kenway fluff #shay cormac fluff #shaytham fluff #fluff #fic #assassin's creed rogue #assassin's creed rogue fic #assassin's creed #assassin's creed fic #assassin's creed fanfic #ac rogue #ac rogue fic #ac rogue shay cormac #ac rogue haytham kenway #ac rogue shaytham

[desmond69miles]

I am having such bad writers block but so many ideas it's physically affecting me?!? Even writing this made me ball my fists in frustration like that one arthur meme. AO3 is down and I have nothing better to do oh my god I'm going to KILL YMSELGFDKO

"Okay Lynn I understand you have writers block why don't you take a break?" SHUT HSIAFHSDOFJISDFNJKISDNJFS SHUP SHUT UP I have MANY ideas and have to put them out there so either another assassin's creed fanfic writer can borrow my ideas or I'll come back and write them later. So, please enjoy my wild rampage about assassin's creed characters.

(Also I HEAVILY doubt that someone will see these and be like "huh, I'm going to write something based on this." IF YOU DO DECIDE TO DO THAT, TAG ME!!! I want to see your work.)

Either Jacob or Evie falling in love with a templar reader, but the templar reader in question is none other than Starrick's only child and heir (A bit like Elise and Arno, to be honest). My mind has been stuck on this for so long it is actually driving me insane. I think Jacob would be more the type to have a forbidden love with a very important Templar, and bonus brownie points if the relationship is very angsty and full of conflict with Starrick and Jacob. Wait wait wait wait wait -- Jacob and Evie kill Starrick, we know this, but what if reader actually liked their father? What if after Starrick dies, reader hates Jacob????

Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor) I feel would be a sweet lover. Like the type to bring you small trinkets from the places he visits and the type to teach you how to use a bow for hunting. I think it'd be fun to see a fic where Connor takes reader hunting for the first time (which is more just a tag-along visit) and either A) Reader doesn't have it in them to watch Connor skin/prepare the animal or B) Reader is fascinated with the skill of preparing an animal for consumption/skinning one and Connor is teaching them all the little tips and tricks to it.

I like the few fics I've seen where reader is Shay Cormac's child and either falls in love with Arno or doesn't agree with the templar ways, but what if somehow Shay's child is raised by the Templars and later reunites with their dad through Haytham, Gist, etc? A gold star if his child is absolutely chaotic and reeking havoc while Haytham and Shay try to fix the large messes made. (Shaytham agenda arise)

I NEED my girl Elise to be written for more. NEED. It'd be cute to see reader who's Elise's ladies maid and is absolutely crushing on the beautiful redhead, but readers a bit hesitant due to Arno and, of course, the air around same-sex couples back then. Come some holiday and Elise takes notice of readers crush on her, and just like casual comfort??

I had a dream a few nights ago where I looked like Rose from Titanic and was Jacob's wife (we were both older and had a son) and I came back from France and the nursemaid despised me because she was jealous of me and Jacob's marriage. I'm not sure how this could be written out but hey, if you want the nursemaid to destroy a marriage, go ahead.

Shit that's all I got in me I've been done for Bye bye It's time to go back into my cave

#jacob frye x reader #evie frye x reader #connor kenway x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #assassins creed x reader

[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.

#tag game #writing #my fics

[devotedlystrangewizard]

sometimes i still go back to my shaytham fics just to read the comments because nothing makes me feel better as a fanfic writer than "whoa ur characterization is so good i love how you write them" multiple times

#ramblings #also they are kind of the fics im most proud of #like my most popular fic (geraskier) is for a ship i dont personally have that much interest in i was just possessed when s1 of twn dropped #and obviously ac fics are a lot less popular so there are just a lot less comments on my ac fics than on my twn fic #but the comments on the shaytham fics are just special. specifically the 2022 batch of fics #ALSO because i got SO much better at writing them. like directly comparing 2019 & 2022 #if theres one ship i want my ao3 to be known for above all else (thats not canon x oc) its probably shaytham. tbh #me after writing the 20th fic where shay isnt the one who has to retrieve the box and also he somehow manages to save ziio #because ziio deserved better. ok. she was so cool #and also because if haytham were to meet his son while ziio is alive his son probably wouldnt have an American Name #and the idea of this rich white guy from britain attempting to pronounce his son's full name is really fucking funny to me

[the-kenway-fam]

I have come so far only for my phone to break wherever I try to write something so it's gotten to the point where it left me wondering.

Am I Brave enough to be writing Gay fanfiction on the family Xbox?

Yes. The answer is yes. If you're desperate enough for a specific fic you will write it yourself.

#gaypride #fanfic #cullistair #reed900 #shaytham

[kazmerps]

Me, writing a fanfic that was supposed to be standalone, not several chapters: "what if this continues tho? I have a rough plan for one more chapter but that's enough, I don't do long stuff with several chapters and after one more I'll be out of ideas anyways."

Also me: *writes down ideas and they keep going and going*

*looks at the notes I just took*

"this... Is way more than one chapter... F-!*

I'm never creative except when I don't want to be

#writing #fanfiction #writing fanfic #Yes this is about the Shaytham fic #shaytham #About time to write more #But I wanted it to be on my terms #Not on my weird heads

[ars0nism]

Fluff things i really like

Old married couple

Domestic slice of life

Soft kisses

Making out that doesnt end in sex

Bathing/showering together that doesnt end in sex

Sleepy cuddles

One character just contemplating about how much they love their s/o

Drinking together

Everywhere cuddles

Those fics where one person likes to read in bed and the other is lulled to sleep by the sound of the pages and cant sleep without it

Established relationship sharing a bed

0 awkwardness just soft loving

LGBT couples going to pride

Yelling at homophobes

One person doing something wild and the other just kinda standing to the side like "i love you"

Cooking together

When one is making breakfast and the other hugs them from behind

Hanging out with kids

Raising kids

No awkward first kiss, familiar & warm kiss number 142

With pets

Reuniting after battle

Quick kisses before parting bc one has to go to work

Casual hand holding (to the point where they forget until they need both hands)

Casual "love you"s

Sitting in each others laps

#how did this happen?? #fanfic #oc #mc #otp #imagine your otp #imagine your ocs #this was honestly bc of sleepy shaytham cuddles that im writing #lmao #big ole softies

[antivancorvo]

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

#honestly tho #why did I stop writing #I completely forgot these fics and now that I'm pretty separated from them #they're not bad??? #I mean they're only like 3-4 years old #so it's not like they're embarassing because I wrote them when I was 12 #hmmm #maybe I'll translate them to english one day #I have a bunch of altair/malik and ezioleo lols #maybe shaytham too? #idk #also an ac/thief crossover???? #like #WHAT WAS I THINKING #and I reread the comments on my ancient fecking fanfic blog and they made me cry #:"))))))))))))))))) #personal

[heartoferebor]

Fic update

Update on B&B for everyone who is waiting for the last two chapters: last chapter is done! I’m working on the epilogue right now and it’s hard going, mostly because I just DON’T WANT IT TO END.

#Blood and Bond #nghhshs god the last 10 days were COMPLETELY insane #I had a job interview! #I got my dream job! #I viewed like 6 flats in 5 days! #I found a new flat! #paid the holding deposit and then signed the contract yesterday! #also organised rehoming a cat and visited my darling for the first time on Monday #organised an entire move to take place in two weeks! #sorted out 500 other things #ALSO KEPT WRITING MY THESIS! #cause i gotta hand THAT fucker in in 7 weeks! #oh and wrote over 15k of Shaytham fanfic cause I'm fucking obsessed with them #also went to two club agms and spent too much time hitting with swords and then drinking in the pub with them #oh and started working on a new cosplay cause i dont have enough to do yet amirite #and now im exhausted and the summer is only just about to start D:

[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.”

#shaytham #ask #prompt #fluff #fanfic

[hopeatermain]

Neutral Territory.

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

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

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

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

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

Word count: 1 262 words

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

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

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

And finally, Haytham was dead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Assassin's Creed #Shay Cormac #connor kenway #christopher gist

[gococogo]

Day One: Voyeurism

2023 Kinktober Masterlist after October

Synopsis: Shay is back in Boston after finding that bloody box. But Haytham has to attend a high party on the first night the Irishman is back. And out of curiosity, Shay wants to go.

One thing he forgets though is that, Shay can be quite jealous at time.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: Artwork is not mine! It is done by the amazing @pandaaaaaaaaxd and this great artwork inspired me to create this master piece of a fic! So, please enjoy the first day of Kinktober.

Warnings: Voyeurism/Nsfw/Smut/Blowjob/Anal/Jealously/Possessiveness/Biting/Hand job/Man handling/Top!Shay/Bottom!Haytham

Seeing Shay again after so long was almost like seeing a completely different person in his place. Yes, don’t get Haytham wrong, Shay still has his wits and commentary, but his charm has become something more dangerous that his aged features now hold. The grey that now streaks his dark hair is a subtle reminder that none of them will stay young forever. The image that Haytham has had in his head of Shay for nearly two decades now is of this young man who had to grow up too fast. 

But now, the man that joins Haytham to a high party holds himself squared and tall. He wears a blue and brown formal attire, something different to what he arrived in Boston in but similar. Fancier if Haytham has to put it.

But he had forgotten just how the man allured him in the first place. Sitting across from him in the horse carriage is something of a familiarity but also a strange coming. Conversation has been hard to strike up. Only because Haytham isn’t sure where they stand right now. 

Yes, Haytham could just simply ask. But he won’t. It’s not in his nature to do so. 

“So, you escaped France unharmed?” Haytham asks, continuing on with what Shay has just told him. 

The other nods his head softly. “Nobody knew I was there. Since I didn’t come in contact with the French Templars while I was visiting, they wouldn’t be able to give anything up to the Assassins there to track me here.”

Haytham turns his head downwards to try and hide his smile and says, “You’ve done well, Shay.”

Shay sees the smile all the same though. Even years apart, Haytham still has the same mannerisms as when they first met.

“Thank you, sir,” he replies back. 

-

The horse carriage finally comes to a stop outside the manor on the other side of Boston. The both of them could have well walked from where Haytham lives, but the Grandmaster didn’t want to arrive so, mundanely. 

Shay opens the door for Haytham, holding a hand for him once outside. Haytham takes it gingerly as he steps out of the carriage, looking up at the manor ahead. He has only been here once before but that was so long ago. But that was after Shay had left, so the other has not set foot here nor met the host of this party. 

“Why is the party being held?” Shay asks as he clasps his hands behind his back. 

He looks up at the manor, but it isn’t with awe. Somewhere along his journey, he has seen bigger and better. Maybe Haytham will ask where that is later on. 

“I do not know exactly. But Mr Shaw wanted me here,” Haytham replies. 

As if coming out of a daze, Shay returns his attention back to Haytham with a smile. He bows slightly with an outstretched hand. 

“After you then,” he inquires. 

Haytham softly rolls his eyes as he walks forward. The both of them travel side by side up to the front door where the sound of chatter inside becomes louder and louder. Two men stand outside, security by Haytham’s guess. They know Haytham by first glance but they look Shay over with uncertainty. 

The younger one places a hand on Shay’s chest, stopping him. The taller man looks down at the hand that is quickly retracted before flicking his eyes up to the younger. Something almost predator. 

“He’s with me,” Haytham simply says. 

The older steps forward, pushing the younger away with a frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kenway. Please head inside and enjoy tonight,” he apologizes. 

The door is opened for them by the idiotic younger man and Haytham steps inside without a thank you or another word. Shay doesn’t even offer a word of acknowledgement either. Yet, as soon as the door closes behind the hunter he can’t help but chuckle to himself. 

“Looked like he was ‘bout to soil himself?” Shay smiles toothily. 

The butler comes up to them and holds out his hands for their coats. Shay shimmies his off, leaving him in just a pale blue vest and a frilled white dress shirt that Haytham has to not stare at. 

“It was amusing,” Haytham agrees as he declines with his own coat. 

He doesn’t want to spend too long here. In all honesty, he wanted to spend tonight at home talking to Shay about his time away and catch up in other manners. He had forgotten about the event until Mr. Shaw’s personal butler had come around and asked if he was still coming. Shay had insisted, wanting to see what Haytham had been up to in these years. 

So, one could say they’re here because the curiosity got to Shay. And he doesn’t seem to hide it these days. Everything that grabs his interest or is new, he wants to know more. Maybe that’s just him realizing in his young age that he’s getting too old to let things pass these days. Or maybe he’s been hunting for that damn box for too long. 

That thought brings a pit of something into Haytham’s gut as the butler directs them to where everyone is. The gathering is out the back of the mansion where the garden is. It’s busy and there are more people here than he expected. He stops mid walk on the back porch, before the stairs that lead down to the garden and grazes the area. He can’t spot the host and that alone bugs him. 

There’s a big patio in the middle of the garden where a band plays some soft music that try and lighten the mood. The garden goes further out down a path way to the right and Haytham does not want to start a search to look for the host. The last thing he wants to be doing tonight. 

“Sir?” Shay asks suddenly. 

Haytham realizes he’s been spacing out and looks down to Shay at the bottom of the stairs. He holds out a hand to him with a slightly cocked brow. Haytham, is very charmed by this. But Shay is forgetting himself here. He’s being a little too comfortable. 

He walks right past Shay, ignoring the hand. 

Haytham does notice it takes a while for Shay to come by his side again. The frown on his features doesn’t go unnoticed from the corner of Haytham’s eye. 

“I forgot to ask who’s the host,” Shay picks up conversation. 

“Mr Leviticus Shaw. He’s not one of us but he does help our course and knows who we are,” Haytham explains. 

“Interesting fellow?” 

“Not the slightest. A proper British man. Cocky and egotistical” Haytham scowls as he stops in the middle of a path way. 

They haven’t even left the main part of the garden and he’s still not seeing anyone he knows. There’s butler’s moving out with trays of food and drinks and none of them have come over to see him. He needs a drink or something, or anything to get through tonight. 

“Sir, it sounds like you’re calling the kettle black there?” Shay asks but with a little too much grunt in it for Haytham’s liking. 

He looks to the Irishman out of the corner of his eye with furrowed brows. Shay looks away as if he didn’t make the comment. A butler comes around with champagne and Shay takes two glasses off smoothly. He offers one to Haytham with a sly smile, trying to win him back a little too quickly.  

Haytham takes it though, sniffing it before downing it in one go. He returns the glass to Shay all while the other gently sips out of his own. 

Finally, Leviticus Shaw comes into view and Haytham rushes forward. Maybe he can say his hellos and be on his way. He’s with two other men he doesn’t know but Haytham doesn’t care. Shaw is in sight. 

Shaw sees him first and his expression widens. “Mr Kenway! It is good to know you have come!” He exclaims as he shakes the others hand. 

Leviticus Shaw is a tall stocky man with an ego to match. He isn’t much to look that but it’s his wealth and contacts that has him in best interest with the Templars. And Shaw knows that and likes to twirl Haytham around his fingers. Which Haytham does not like. 

“I thought I’d come to say hello and be on my way,” Haytham starts and goes to continue his sentence but Shaw cuts him off. 

“Oh! Do you have somewhere else to be?” Shaw asks with a frown. “Tonight is meant to be something for my son. Have you met, William?”

Haytham shakes his head as he says, “No, I haven’t had the pleasure too.”

“Oh you best meet him!” 

Shaw excuses himself from the other two men he’s with and begins walking with Haytham with a hand on his shoulder. 

“He’s celebrating buying the horse track down in Boston. We should go there sometime,” Shaw says with a smile on his face. 

But it’s not something that meets his eyes. The pride he shows for his son isn’t real. All to do with the family name that follows him that he has to be proud of. 

“I might not be able to go. I have other matters on my hand, Shaw,” Haytham objects kindly. 

Shaw stops dead, the hand on his shoulder travelling down to Haytham’s waist. The touch doesn’t go unnoticed and Haytham takes a small step back out of Shaw’s touch. 

“That Templar business getting in the way?” Shaw asks in a hushed tone. 

“No,” Haytham simply says. “As I said, I’m only staying here for a simple hello, Shaw.”

Haytham takes a quick look behind him at Shay, who in return is staring right back at him. Two dark eyes over the top of his champagne glass that feel like ice on his shoulders. He turns his attention back to Shaw who is looking over Haytham’s shoulder. 

“I need to be off,” he inquires. 

“My son will be disappointed if you don’t meet him,” Shaw argues back with a smile. 

Unfortunately, Haytham can’t decline in worries of breaking their current alliance with the man. He follows Shaw to meet his son, William and it’s quick and simple.

 But shortly, other woman and men come up to Haytham that he has never met before but they seem to know a lot about him. They touch and laugh with Haytham and touch. May it be hand on the shoulder or arm, or a hand on his back that will move down to just above his hip before it starts to be too noticeable. 

Flirting isn’t something that Haytham is good at. Never has been and doesn’t seem to want to learn any time soon. He wishes he listened closely to his teachers when he was young at being a gentlemen. Allowing one to be charming and endearing at the same time. Haytham would say he is charming, but others would say he’s just stoic and looking for his next meal. 

But for some reason Shaw’s mother-in-law has taken an interest in Haytham tonight. She hugs his arm closely and she has a grip that says she isn’t letting go any time soon. He has forgotten her name even though she introduced herself twice just before. 

“I have a young daughter I would like you to meet, Mr Kenway,” she begins again as Haytham tries to escape. 

For the first time tonight, true fear settles in. 

Just as Haytham thinks he’s going to die here and now, Shay appears before him. The mother-in-law looks him up and down and loosens her grip on the Grandmaster. Obviously, she has seen something more worth while than himself. At this given moment, Shay’s charm is a blessing. 

“Hellooo, and who may you be?” She asks with a wrinkled smile. 

Shay returns with a charismatic grin. “Mr. Cormac, ma’am.”

The mother-in-law lets go of Haytham finally and holds out her hand, in which Shay takes and kisses the back of. 

“What a sweetheart, you know this one Mr. Kenway?” She asks, not taking her eyes off of her new piece of meat. 

“Yes, I do,” Haytham answers as he keeps his distance from her. 

He doesn’t want to be in her grasp for a second longer. 

“And you didn’t introduce me to him? What a crime, Mr Kenway!” She exclaims. 

Shay cuts in though, saving the night, “I do apologize for our short meeting, ma’am, but I have to take Mr. Kenway here off your hands,” he queries. “I need to speak to him in private.”

There must be something about the way Shay talks, or the way he looks at her that has her immediately handing over Haytham.  

“Oh, I’ll let you two men talk then. I’ll come back for you, Mr. Cormac,” she says before wandering off for her next victim. 

“Good night,” Haytham says his goodbyes before turning his attention to Shay. 

And the charm that Shay had, well, Haytham quickly realizes what is it with the slight sway as he stands. Shay steps forward and hooks his arm in Haytham’s. He smells of wine, but he isn’t drunk. Maybe tipsy, but Haytham knows that he isn’t easy to get drunk.

Shay suddenly leans in Haytham’s ear and mumbles, “The drinks are cheap here and I want my coat.”

“Why I beg ask?” 

“It’s getting chilly.” He mopes. 

That is something of a lie because the man is radiating heat like a fire beside Haytham. Shay leads them back across the garden to the manor with a tight grip on his arm, almost worse than that mother-in-law. 

Once inside the manor, Shay doesn’t head to the front door. There are no visitors inside, only a couple of butlers. Shay stops in his tracks and looks around, thoughts running a mile behind those eyes. 

“What are you up to, Shay?” Haytham finally asks. 

He doesn’t pull from the man’s grip but waits for an answer. Shay looks down his nose at him in return. 

“I’ve been watching you the entire night, Haytham,” he answers lowly. 

“Oh?” 

Shay suddenly moves, walking Haytham down a hallway with no butlers. Then, with no warning Haytham is being pushed up against the wall closest to him with no escape. He goes along with it though, his eyes never leaving Shay once as he towers over him. 

“You leave me alone all night so I have to watch from a far as people put their hands all over you,” Shay mumbles deeply in Haytham’s ear. 

“You’re the one that insisted we come,” he points out. 

One of Shay’s hands swivels around the small of Haytham’s waist while the other comes up and cups his face. This sort of touch is so much more welcome to all the other people tonight. The people that may well get their hands on him tonight did it because they could, not because they wanted to. This, this is a want on the verge of desperation. 

“I have realized that I don’t fancy these types of parties,” Shay answers a little sadly that has Haytham grinning. 

Oh, what a jealous man Shay can be.  

With a hand loosening salt and pepper hair, Haytham brings Shay down for a kiss. The kiss is meant to be soft and passionate but it quickly becomes desperate from both sides. Slender fingers slowly undo Haytham’s coat buttons one by one. All so that Shay can hold his waist steady against the wall. 

Almost as the thought comes through Haytham’s mind, footsteps come into ear shot. Haytham’s blood runs cold, his heart jumping into his throat, and he pushes Shay off all together. Even if the butler’s don’t see them doing ungodly things, people aren’t dumb when they see dishevelled hair and half undone clothes. 

Haytham tries to make himself presentable again, not wanting any sort of rumour to get out about him. Because one thing he knows is that butlers and maids talk. 

But Shay has other plans. He grabs Haytham’s little red ribbon that stays around his neck and pulls him forward into the nearest room. Literally the closest door across the hallway that luckily wasn’t locked. 

A hand on Haytham’s chest keeps him against the wall next to the door all while Shay peeps out of it. Watching as the two employee’s of Shaw walk past, their voices fading away. 

“You’re lucky,” Haytham hushes. 

The shit eating grin that Shay sends his way is enough to make Haytham want to hit him. Shay leaves the door open a crack before returning to Haytham. They haven’t even gone any further into this office room, still standing right next to the door. A small dresser digs into the left side of Haytham’s hip. 

“Close the door, Shay,” Haytham snaps firmly. 

The other shakes his head as he comes face to face with his Grandmaster again. “Someone needs to keep an eye out,” is all he says before capturing Haytham in another kiss. 

When Shay had arrived back, there had only been time to talk and report and speak about their lives away. There had been no time for this. Haytham was hoping to allure Shay when they were home again. As much as this has Haytham’s heart beating loudly in his chest and throat and a thrill rushing over his skin, the anticipation of waiting for someone to open that door fully for someone to walk in on them is deafening. Which, only has him wanting to continue on. See how far they can get before someone notices something is up.  

The hand on his chest travels down to Haytham’s crotch, cupping and kneading. Haytham’s hands come to the small of Shay’s waist, a small gasp leaving his mouth as he pulls away slightly from their kiss. Shay’s mouth comes to his neck and a buzz runs down Haytham’s spine that goes straight to his dick. 

Shay’s hand leaves his crotch, for the moment all so that he can relieve Haytham of his coat. It drops heavily at his feet and for a second Haytham thinks someone would have heard. But Shay continues mouthing at his neck and palming his dick through his pants that the worry is quickly forgotten. 

The sound that escapes Haytham as teeth sink down into the soft part of his neck is choked off at the sudden realization that someone can hear him. Haytham waits for someone to come barging in, shouting and gasping at the sight of the Grandmaster Templar of the Colonial Rite. He tries to control his breathing but it is very hard when Shay is all over his body and knows what makes Haytham groan. Even after being years part, Shay hasn’t forgotten. 

But when no one comes, Haytham can’t help but release a short chortle. In return, Shay chuckles deeply against his skin. 

“Worried, Haytham?” Shay asks as he meets his gaze. 

Haytham scoffs. “You play a dangerous game,” he answers lowly. 

Shay grins again as he moves down his body, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach. All until Shay is on his knees in front of Haytham with his hands wrapped around his hips. A breathy exhale comes from Haytham’s parted mouth at such a sight. 

It makes him wonder how he got probably one of the most dangerous Templars in America to be so loyal to him. To devote himself to Haytham. To be allured by Haytham that he is deprived when he is not around. How did Shay last so many years away when right now it seems he can’t go a second without touching him. 

Shay begins to undo his belt and pants with nimble fingers. At this point Haytham can’t get his breathing under control or quiet enough to his liking. A choked groan escapes his throat as his cock is exposed to Shay’s hot breath, his pants pulled down just enough so free himself. His touch has Haytham’s legs shaking and by God has he missed the other. He holds onto the wall for support as he watches the head of his dick disappear around Shay’s already rosy lips. 

He tries to buck his hips forward but Haytham quickly realizes that Shay’s mission is to keep him pinned to the wall. His thumbs dig into his hips, holding him in place as he works his mouth around Haytham. Sucking and swallowing down more and more into his hot mouth until his nose is buried into greying pubes. Then he pops off the end of Haytham’s dick all to come back and mouth the head while making eye contact with him before repeating the process. The look alone has Haytham’s knees shaking, and if Shay wasn’t holding onto his so tightly, then he knows for a fact he would be on falling to the ground. His body his buzzing and Haytham can’t help the small pants that escape his mouth. 

A hand comes to Shay’s hair, gripping tightly but Haytham doesn’t dare push him down onto his cock. Even though the tightness in his gut is getting unforgiveable and his knees feel like buckling under him, he controls himself. 

But as much as Haytham wants to continue he pulls Shay off of him quickly by his hair at the sound of more footsteps. Shay looks up at him past hooded eyes, his mouth agape with saliva dribbling down his chin. He’s such a pretty sight but all Haytham can think about is the person outside. Haytham watches the light coming through the gap in the door flicker as someone passes by. They’re in a hurry and they pass by quickly without a concern for any noises going on his the mansion. 

Shay stands to his feet while wiping his mouth and pulls Haytham forward by his collar for a kiss. The muskiness that Haytham can taste is himself but it’s almost intoxicating. Haytham gets lost in the kiss, forgetting where he is until Shay pulls away. 

“I have missed you dearly, Haytham,” Shay breathes out. 

Haytham licks his lips and swallows. He honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. But Shay doesn’t want an answer, he doesn’t need one to know what Haytham is thinking. That Haytham has yearned for him over these passing years. And he couldn’t answer if he wanted to because Shay presses his fingers to Haytham’s mouth before pushing two digits in. 

“Make them nice and wet for me,” Shay whispers lowly. 

As much as Haytham wants to bite down on the fingers in his mouth purely out of spite, he’s too caught up in the moment. He licks and sucks at the fingers in his mouth, making sure to lather them up as much as he can with his own spit. Shay pushes in a little further, watching Haytham with dark eyes as if waiting for a reaction. And he gets one, going a little too far and triggering his gag reflex. Haytham chokes lightly and grabs Shay’s wrist with a deadly grip. 

Shay pulls his fingers out with a trail of saliva connecting them to Haytham’s lips. “Apologies,” he smirks. 

But he should be apologizing again as he flips Haytham around so that his face is against the wall. Shay shuffles his pants down a little further so that is ass is on display. 

“Can’t we further this when we get home?” Haytham asks as he moves so his forehead is resting against the wall. 

He doesn’t move though, or push Shay away as the man leans into his ear as he whispers, “I can’t wait the long ride back. Not with what you’ve done to me tonight.” His slicked fingers press against Haytham’s hole, hesitating. “I also have plans when we get home, but these aren’t it. You just had to go and be the charming man you are with everyone around you. Making me jealous and bothered.”

Haytham’s reply gets caught in his throat as a finger is pushed into him. He gasps out but a hand is quickly slapped over his mouth with his face angled upwards. He tries to look at Shay but all he can see is the fucking gap in the door and a sliver of the hallway. He breathes heavily through his nose as Shay works him open, entering another finger with the first. 

“Have you let anyone here touch you like I have?” Shay asks another question in his ear, his voice like gravel. 

Haytham gives a small shake of his head as all he can do is grip the wall in front of him. His dick rubs against the wall and is the only sense of friction he’s going to give himself. Otherwise he’s going to be done before Shay gets started. And he doesn’t want to ruin that for the man. But the dark chuckle that comes from Shay might be enough. 

When Shay is content with his work, Haytham feels a little empty, a little exposed when his fingers leave him. But it’s soon replaced with the head of Shay’s cock. He pushes in slowly and it’s painful at first, leaving Haytham to groan and huff behind Shay’s hand. But Shay waits a moment, waiting for Haytham to relax before moving again. He may be desperate, but he isn’t a monster. 

Shay holds onto Haytham as he fucks him with an even pace, slowly pushing in further inch by inch. He pants in Haytham’s ear, grunting every so often and the noises go straight to his cock. 

As much as he wants to hold on, it’s Shay’s hand slithering around his waist to his cock that unravels him. He comes hard and if Shay wasn’t holding him up, he’d have fallen to the ground. His vision goes spotty and he holds onto the wall for support. 

Shay rides himself through Haytham’s orgasm, becoming more and more noisy as he chases his own high. He uncovers Haytham’s mouth and both hands come and hold his waist, bring Haytham back to meet his cock as he thrusts forward. 

It starts to become a bit much for Haytham as he comes down from his high. He grinds his teeth as everything begins to become a little too sensitive. Luckily though, Shay comes forward and grabs his chest from behind as he buries in dick into Haytham and comes in his ass. His whole body shakes as he holds Haytham in place, his hips rutting as he goes through his own orgasm. Looks like Shay was trying to hold out as long as he could as well but failed. 

The two stay still for just a moment as Haytham lets Shay collect himself. The party can still be heard going on outside and Haytham quickly realizes where they are again. As Shay slips out of him, Haytham turns his head to looks out the door slowly. 

The air in his lungs get caught as he meets a pair of prying eyes. As soon as Haytham spots them, they’re already darting off. Maybe, Haytham should have protested a little more about having the door open.           

#coco kinktober 2023 #Shay Cormac #Haytham Kenway #Assassin's Creed Rogue #Shay Patrick Cormac #Shay cormac fic #Shay cormac fanfic #shay patrick cormac fic #shay patrick cormac smut #shay cormac smut #shaytham #shaytham fic #shaytham smut #shaytham fanfic #haytham kenway fic #haytham kenway fanfic #haytham kenway smut #shay cormac/haytham kenway #shay cormac/haytham kenway fic #shay cormac/haytham kenway smut #shay cormac x haytham kenway #shay cormac x haytham kenway smut #shay cormac x haytham kenway fic #shay cormac x haytham kenway fanfic #assassin's creed rogue smut #assassin's creed rogue fic #assassin's creed rogue fanfic #assassin's creed #assassin's creed fic #assassin's creed smut

[apfelhalm]

the relationship between shay and monro is equal parts ~problematic~ and endearing and i kinda love it. i mean, monro openly uses shay’s vulnerable and shell-shocked state to test out the waters and lure him in for the templar cause. and while that’s hella manipulative and questionable, i think he also really meant what he did for shay (or he must be a really good actor to fake this much kindness and i don’t think he’s the type for that). is it a shitty thing to do? yes, but i think he was being practical and optimistic at the same time, and over time, actually grew to like shay. hence, the mentor role he had in shay’s life.

plus, shay’s not dumb. he totally went in there knowing (or at least strongly suspecting) that those were templars he was working with, but at that time, had neither the will nor the choice to turn is back on them. he was already a target for the assassins and having another party at his heels was the least that he wanted. and i think he kind of wanted that illusion? monro was nothing but kind to him and gave him a purpose, and to have that kind of security net and safety must have meant everything to shay during that time. i think he wanted to be lured in. (it still awes me that the templars are better at keeping their members happy than the assassin’s lol)

#my life #tess is playing AC #tess is playing AC rogue #in other words i'm thinking way too much about shay #and i'm kinda glad that i've gotten so shitty and slow at reading fanfic #bc there are only 4 pages of shaytham on ao3 #YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME TO WRITE FIC OF MY OWN

[gococogo]

A Night of Christmas | Shaytham Oneshot

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

Word Count: 2.8K

Genre: Angsty/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now Shay can’t miss.

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

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

Bullseye.

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

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

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

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

Haytham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “A ponder is all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The front door opens with ease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only if…

#coco posts #shay cormac #shay cormac fic #shay cormac fanfic #shay cormac angst #shay patrick cormac #shay patrick cormac fic #shay patrick cormac fanfic #shay patrick cormac angst #shaytham #shaytham fic #shaytham fanfic #shaytham angst #haytham kenway #haytham kenway fic #haytham kenway fanfic #haytham kenway angst #assassin's creed rogue #assassin's creed rogue fic #assassin's creed rogue angst #assassin's creed #assassin's creed fic #assassin's creed fanfic #assassin's creed angst #angst #ac rogue #ac rogue fic #as rogue fanfic #ac rogue angst #shay cormac x haytham kenway

[gococogo]

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 5

Pt.4 | Pt.6

Synopsis: Haytham finds out Birch's line of work and has some new set responsibilities while on the trip. But, doing as Birch says he's able to go out on his own and hang out with Shay.

Word Count: 2.5K

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

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: Updates for this series will be a bit slower because of Christmas coming up and all that jazz

On his bed, Haytham had fallen asleep writing in his journal. It lays open on his chest as he quietly snores away, quill still loosely in hand. The boy is just lucky he had the wit to put his ink bottle on the ground and not on his bed. Otherwise, Birch would be furious with him to find out that he’s ruined the bed sheets with black ink.

Three hard knocks come from his door, awaking Haytham from his slumber. He ponders for a moment if the noise he just heard was from his dream, but when it happens again, he groans as he sits up. His journal falls off him and onto the floor with a clunk. He’s still in last night clothes and when for the third time another set of knocks pursue, he realizes what transpired last night.

“Hello!?” He calls out as he jumps to his feet.

“Haytham, are you dressed?” Birch calls from the other side.

Haytham, as quickly and frantically as he can, gets changed into other casual clothes that don’t look like they’ve been dragged through mud and dirt. He jumps into his pants, nearly falling over in the process. He thumps around, his frantic moving about not going unheard.

“Yes!” He finally calls back out.

As Birch opens the door, Haytham kicks his journal under his bed. Birch looks to Haytham with squinted eyes, as if a scolding is on the tip of his lips. But the man doesn’t say such things as he looks around the room. He closes the door behind him. He’s here for something else.

Silently, Birch walks across the room and sits on Haytham’s bed. The mattress creaks under him. He lets out a little sigh before patting beside him. “Come. Sit.”

Haytham is a little hesitant at first, but he does as he’s told. It’s a little awkward. He’s still so so very tired from last night. He holds himself up right though, the best he can, so that Birch doesn’t suspect anything. It’s as if, if Haytham knows something, Birch will find out somehow, sometime, somewhere.

“Do you know what type of business I do, Haytham?” Birch suddenly asks, looking to the boy with a raised brow.

Haytham will have to give himself some credit. He isn’t stupid. He knows that Birch’s business isn’t like anyone else’s. He just doesn’t know what sort of business.

“I don’t know the purpose of it,” Haytham admits.

Birch nods. “And do you know why I’m harsh on you?” He asks another question.

This time, Haytham hesitates. Thinking of his answer. He knows to some degree. But without knowing the meaning for work that Birch does, Haytham does not know.

“Not all the time,” he tells honestly again.

And again, Birch nods.

“I want to tell you now, Haytham. Before you begin to hate me, before you begin to loath the way I keep you here under a watchful eye,” Birch begins, looking to Haytham, wanting him to understand. “The business I do is to keep the Order I serve in power. To keep order within the people.”

“Like a governor?” Haytham asks straight away.

“Almost.” Birch looks off across the room. “I want you to be apart of that some day, Haytham. That is why I am training you, teaching you to be a man for the Templar Order. All so that chaos like your father’s death doesn’t ensue further within society.”

Haytham intakes a sharp breath and looks to the ground to escape Birch’s returning gaze. He knows that his own father was training him for something. He just doesn’t know what. But now Birch is doing the same and it’s for his cause. He’s told Haytham what it’s for instead of keeping it hidden any longer.

If it’s to stop the same chaos that happened to his father, then maybe he’ll be able to make him proud.

“Okay,” Haytham nods slowly.

“Good,” Birch stands. “But that does not mean I won’t be letting you off the hook quite so easily,” he speaks firmly as he turns to the boy. “I will let you leave this room, but only because I think it will do you some good to see the world. To see how this American society behaves unlike home.”

Haytham holds in his excitement, curling his hands into fists on his knees. “Thank you, sir.”

“But,” Birch holds up a finger, his eyes becoming wide. “But, to do so without consequence, Haytham. You will revisit your sword training every afternoon at four in the afternoon. Every. Day. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“And you will report back to me of your outings. Every. Day. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll meet you in the garden at four.”

-

Training that same day had gone swiftly. Birch had hired a New Yorkian swordsman -Leonard Wright- to help keep Haytham on his toes. Truth be told, it did take Haytham half an hour to get into the rhythm again, but his skill came back like a second nature. He had forgotten how much he loved the feeling of letting his mind go and letting his body move on it’s own.

The very next day though, Haytham is using his new found privilege to wonder out into Greenwich. He wants to find Shay but… he doesn’t even know where to begin. He goes down to the Greenwich docks. Only because that’s where he first met Shay, and maybe, maybe by some chance he’ll be there.

But when the boy searches high and nigh and doesn’t find anyone other than a bunch of sailors and drunks, he heads back home to train with Leonard. He was early, having nothing else to do and a simple thing, but it made Birch happy.

The next few days continue like this until Haytham gives up. He sits outside the hotel with a stick in hand, flicking the dirt out from between the bricks on the street. He’s bored. Birch doesn’t have plans until later in the week other than his training. But that isn’t until for another six hours. He’s asked Haytham to join him for such events later down the week and with nothing else planned, he accepted.

“How long have you been sitting there for?”

Haytham jerks up at a familiar Irish accent. But it isn’t Shay. Liam stands before him with his arms crossed over his chest. Haytham stands to his feet, brushing away at the dirt on his bottom.

“I don’t know,” the boy shrugs.

Liam looks off to the street before back at him. As if pondering something to himself.

“I’m off to meet with Shay’s aunt, you finished with cleaning the street?” Liam asks.

Haytham visibly brightens at such an offer. “Shay’s aunt?”

Liam nods and begins walking down the street. Haytham is quick to follow, not needing anything else to join him.

“Yes. He’s been staying with her permanently ever since Shay’s father died. But it’s not like he was around much in the first place,” Liam tells Haytham loosely.

“Oh,” is all the boy says.

Maybe he had read the room wrong when he first met Shay and his father. A boy so overjoyed to see his father again, it must of spilled onto Haytham a bit.

“How long have you known Shay?” Haytham asks.

Liam shrugs. “I don’t keep track of that. I’ve ran into the little shit before, gotten him out of some trouble here and there. It’s mostly our father’s that like to drink together.”

“Both sailors?”

“Yep. You might meet my pa if he’s still hanging about.”

Haytham swallows thickly. If Liam is huge, he can only imagine the size of his father.

Liam suddenly stops and places a hand on Haytham’s shoulder, squeezing a bit. He bends down slightly so that the boy can look him in the eye. He notices a small scar on the bridge of his nose that is old and faded.

“Stay here a moment,” is all Liam says before wondering off into a nearby ally.

Haytham only stays standing on the side of the street for a couple of seconds before his curiosity gets the best of him. Like an itch he needs to scratch. He knows it’s wrong. He knows that if he gets caught Liam will scold him. Or even worse.

But he peers around the corner of the building into the ally anyways to see what Liam is doing. Liam speaks to another man in soft spoken voices. The other man is oddly dressed. He wears white robes that contrast against his dark skin. Haytham knows that it’s none of his business, but with how the man dresses it only has him wanting to ask questions.

Before Liam can spot Haytham spying, he slips back away to the spot he was left in. He kicks at a rock on the street, making out he’s been here the entire time doing this.

Liam comes out from the ally with a huff and looks to Haytham with a smile. “Let’s be off then, aye?”

Shay’s aunt’s place isn’t that far of a walk and Haytham is just grateful at that. Because the conversation dies real quick and the silence is awkward. He doesn’t question the older about the little odd stop along the way, knowing fair well Liam will just brush it off.

The apartment block is small, located in a two storey building. Liam opens the front door without hesitation and makes his way up to the second storey. The place smells musty and… Haytham can only describe it as old people breath. A lil stinky, a lil fishy.

Liam tries to open the first door next to the stair way and he finds it locked. Haytham watches from halfway up the stairs as he raps on the door.

“Bridgette? You there?” Liam calls out.

It’s quiet for a moment and Haytham holds onto the railing. He suddenly feels overdressed for a place like this. Everything has a layer of grim on it and makes his hands feel sticky. He doesn’t want to show that he’s mildly grossed out in worry of having Liam telling him that he’s right. That Haytham is just another first class boy that doesn’t like people like them.

The door opens suddenly and a middle aged woman pokes her head out. The sides of her brunette hair are silver that almost runs all the way around her head. Her smile lines run deep and her cheeks sag. She wears a burgundy dress that looks hand me down. But it’s a nice dress Haytham will admit.

“Liam! You were meant to be here an hour ago!” Bridgette exclaims but there’s a smile rising to her words and face.

“I would have been sooner but I picked up a stray,” Liam gestures as he uses Haytham as an excuse.

Bridgette looks down the stairs at Haytham, her eyes squinted as if she needs glasses to see. Haytham comes forward so that she doesn’t have to strain instead of hiding away.

“I’m Haytham Kenway,” he introduces himself.

“Oh my,” Bridgette breathes. “What are you doing with Liam?”

“I-“

“HAYTHAM!?” A shout comes from inside.

Shay comes out from behind Bridgette and his face widens with pure glee as he sees the first class boy. He jumps forward and engulfs Haytham in a hug that has the both of them stumbling backwards into the hall. Haytham can’t help but laugh loudly as Shay pulls away to look at him, hands still gripping his shoulders.

“What are you doing here!?” Shay exclaims.

“I picked him up along the way,” Liam says again before Haytham can get a word in.

Shay turns around to his aunt. “Can he come inside?”

Bridgette looks to Haytham, as if reading him. And satisfied with what she sees, she agrees and ushers the three boys inside.

“Is my father still around?” Liam asks as he shuts the door behind him.

“You just missed him. He’ll be back shortly to help me put up my clothesline,” Bridgette answers back.

“Did those boys pull it down again?”

“They’re just boys, Liam.”

“Those boys keep harassing everyone in this apartment building!”

The two conversate while Haytham and Shay wonder off into the small place. It’s not much, there’s only two small rooms. The living room, kitchen and bathroom are all in the main area. A small wooden tub sticks to the side of the room next to a fire place that crackles and burns lightly. The room to the right of the place is smaller than the main room, barely holding a bed and a dresser.

Shay sits down at the rickety table that sits in the middle of the room. It wobbles and the Irish boy curses as he tries to level it out again with a small plank of wood under one leg. Shay does it so quickly as if he’s done it more times than once.

“Haytham,” Bridgette suddenly calls out. “Would you like some tea?”

The boy nods quickly. “Yes, please.”

Shay and Haytham sit next to each other at the table as Liam sits down across from them. This is probably the most casual Haytham has felt since… since his father was alive.

Bridgette brings out a tin of biscuits and a tray of tea cups. The tea is… alright. But Haytham can’t complain. He drowns it out with the dry biscuits that seem to be sweeter than the tea. Liam and Bridgette continue talking about their lives and what’s in store for the future.

“How much longer are you staying here?” Shay asks with a mouthful of biscuit.

Haytham has to think for a moment. “I think another month and a half or so. Give or take. I’ve lost track,” he tells truthfully. “I just know at the end of the trip we’re seeing a theatre play.”

“Which play?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Birch hasn’t told me.”

Liam suddenly cuts in. “That man isn’t your father, is he?”

Haytham shakes his head.

“Seems like a right ol’ prick he does,” Liam snaps.

Bridgette looks to him with a frown. “Now, now. It’s not right to speak ill of someone’s guardian in front of them. Sorry, Haytham.”

“It’s alright.”

But Liam scowls to himself and picks up a biscuit. He inspects it before plopping it into his mouth.

Has word gotten around New York of Birch and himself? If so, he’s all but curious on what they say. He know how gossip works. People like to gossip a little too much, especially the older folk. And it gets around quick. He tries his best not to think too much of it.

The rest of the evening is spent with Shay. He learns so much more about this boy that it’s going to be sad goodbye when he leaves. Maybe Birch will have business here again in America in the future and he can find Shay again. But for now, he only thinks of the moment here with Shay.

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[gococogo]

Day Two: Thigh Riding

2023 Kinktober Masterlist coming after October

Synopsis: Shay and Haytham are on a mission to steal some reports. But Shay pushes a few buttons that has the Grandmaster uncaring of their current situation.

Word Count: 1.2K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Thigh Riding/Slight voyuerism {woops}

Shay hears the voices before Haytham does. Maybe because his senses are sharper than Haytham’s or maybe because the Grandmaster is running is mouth off behind him. Shay stops in his tracks and Haytham runs into him, almost toppling them both over the top of the roof they are currently scaling.

And with being inside an Assassin’s Den, now is not the time to be falling off high places.

Early this morning, Haytham thought it would be a good idea for just the two of them to sneak into this Den. All to retrieve ship routes. Something that Shay could have done by himself, but Haytham wanted to tag along. Haytham knows that he can do it, he’s done this before. But why today? Shay didn’t ask.

Which leaves them here. With Shay having to push Haytham back across the roof to a small closet like spot in which they can hide in. The Grandmaster curses and snaps under his breath but Shay doesn’t bother in paying attention. The last thing Shay wants is to get caught and having to fight all the way to the documents.

The spot is small. Nearly not big enough for one man let along two. Haytham has to lean his back up against the side wall, knees bent and in between Shay’s. All while the Irishman stands at a ninety degree angle over him. Haytham’s hat had been knocked off in the ruckus and Shay doesn’t know where it is. He just hopes it isn’t outside on the building. Cause the only thing that’s hiding the two from the outside world is an old tattered piece of cloth that hangs in front of this tiny shed like closet thing.

Shay stills his breathing and listens to the voices coming closer. He’s guessing two roof guards that are doing their routes, making sure everything is in check. Their conversation is muffled, words folding in on each other until they come closer.

Haytham opens his mouth to make his own comment but Shay quickly slaps a hand over his mouth. If Shay were anyone else, he knows he would be dead right now. Thrown outside and to fend for himself. But the glare that Shay receives is one that he knows he’s going to regret this later.

“-just not sure if I can stay here any longer is all.”

“I know, you have a wife now. Everyone knows.”

The two of them stop on the other side of the roof, most likely where Shay and Haytham just were. They continue their conversation and Haytham huffs from behind the hand still on his face.

Shay takes his hand off Haytham’s mouth with a quiet sorry. He shuffles in his place and tries to make due of how he’s standing. But he ends up sitting down on Haytham’s knees. The Grandmaster grunts as he has to push against the wall so that he doesn’t slip down with Shay following on top of him.

He doesn’t want to meet the stare that he knows Haytham is giving him. He peeps out past the cloth, watching the two guards stand on the edge of the roof talking about their mundane lives. The both of them could sneak up behind them and kill them easy.

“Are you right there?” Haytham hisses in a hush.

“Shh.”

As soon as the sound leaves the Irishman’s mouth, he can feel the glare he’s receiving. The last thing he wants to do is meet it. Shay moves to stand up but Haytham pulls him right back down by his chest straps.

He finally meets the dark eyes of murder that face him. Shay swallows thickly, not moving a muscle. One thing Shay knows is that if Haytham wanted to do something, he would. He wouldn’t care if the entire Den heard them.

“Haytham, we need to get those reports,” Shay tries to argue quietly.

The hand on his chest travels down his stomach to grab at his crotch. A bit painfully at so. A pressure that has Shay hissing. In return -which is something that Shay should have seen coming- Haytham covers his mouth with a hand.

“Those can wait for now,” the Grandmaster speaks darkly.  

He’s pissed Haytham off.

The two guards outside wonder off, their voices disappearing as they move to a different roof. Shay is just glad that they were so involved in their own conversation that they didn’t realize what was going on behind them. Talking about the fellas wife must have been real important.

Haytham kneads Shay’s clothed dick suddenly. And Shay is so glad that the guards are gone because he inhales loudly through his nose. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about anyone outside anymore but the thought still lingers in the back of his head. But it is hard to concentrate when Haytham is looking at him with such a dark sin filled stare.

The hand over his mouth and crotch disappear to only wrap themselves on Shay’s waist. He brings the hunter down fully onto his lap, their legs intertwining so that he’s sitting on only one of Haytham’s thighs. Shay pants as his already half hard cock grinds up against the man below him.

And that is what Haytham wants. He knows the Grandmaster’s game. And every single time, Shay falls for it.

At first, Haytham ushers Shay’s hips forward and grinding his dick against his thigh. The friction has him panting past gritted teeth. Trying his best not to start something they most likely won’t finish until much later.

“Come on, Shay,” Haytham urges on deeply.

And with that, he’s fallen. He’s broken. Shay grinds against Haytham’s thigh as he holds onto his shoulder for support. It’s cramped enough as it is but he’s able to move just enough to get some friction. Haytham watches intensely as Shay moves like a dog in heat.

The buzz that Shay gets lost in has him panting and grunting softly, forgetting where he is. And Haytham guides his hips with each movement, his touch burning hot even through the layers of clothes he has on. Shay can feel himself getting close, and Haytham can see that too.

But, before Shay can get anywhere, he’s stopped. And not by Haytham telling him to, or Haytham holding his hips still. No.

Haytham throws him off and out onto the roof.

Shay falls through the curtain with a thwomp and onto the roof with a loud crash and a grunt. The wind is knocked out of him and he wheezes for air all while trying to be quiet. But it’s a goddamn miracle if someone didn’t hear that. He just hopes those two are still talking about their wives. Shay rolls onto his side as he holds his chest, trying to breathe in a full lung of air.

Haytham steps out onto the roof as if nothing happened. As if he wasn’t just leading someone on with sexual intent. He pats his coat down and peers down his nose at Shay.

“Do get up, Shay. We have reports to steal,” Haytham comments as if bored.

As if Shay isn’t as hard as rock in his own pants right now, all while trying to collect himself and inhale air. Sometimes, Haytham can be a real petty bitch.

“Aye, sir,” he groans but it comes more out as a pathetic wheeze.

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