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elfven-blog · 16 days

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Complacent (3)

Summary: The storm's not over yet (ba dum tshh)

Orca!Merman!Connor Kenway x Reader A mini series. (The semi-finale)

CW: Storm, drowning

Dedication: Everybody thank @ramshackledtrickster who we all love very much for their art and amazing au!

Word count: 1.1K

When you finally made it to the dock the sky had gone dark, the stars in full view as you stepped out the back of the truck. You took a deep breath of the fresh air and rolled your neck while you stretched. If you felt like this you couldn’t imagine how Connor felt in that tank. Faulkner’s crew pulled said tank out with their machinery and got it latched onto the ship, securing it before you came aboard. Desmond parted ways here, hugging you and forcing you to promise you’d be back safe and sound after seeing this through.

You stood next to the tank as the ship left dock, fingers drumming against the glass which seemed to attract the merman’s attention. His fist knocking so that you’d turn towards him, and when you did you saw him in a way you never had before. Sure he had smiled, grinned and laughed in your company but nothing like this. It was like everything from the past few months was nothing but a fantasy. Like his nightmare was finally over, there was a light in his eyes that you hadn’t even realised had been missing but now that it was there? You never wanted to see him without it again.

“Nearly there, big boy” you said with your own matching smile, your words had his eyes narrowed and his brow raised before he rolled your eyes at your teasing. As the ship made it to open waters, your head turned up to the dark sky and Ratonhnhake:ton rolled himself over in the water so that he was facing the stars too. You spent some time telling him about the constellations and in return he whispered about his own people’s belief, and all the stories he had about his time under the stars.

Ratonhnhake:ton seemed restless in the tank, you had tried to get him to speak to you but his answers were only glares and banging on the glass.

“We won’t be near for a few days!” you had told him, trying to explain that you were still miles away from where his homestead was. That the village wasn’t any closer, and that you were still too far out for him to be able to find his way.

This answer seemed to only anger him, his tail flicking and smacking against the sides. You were sure he was snarling and making those popping sounds you’d only heard him do when the director had been around.

At one point his frustration had gotten you annoyed, you understood. He was restless, he wanted to be home but you wanted him safe. Why wouldn’t he just calm down a bit? It wouldn’t be long and you could let him out, he could swim back and you wouldn’t know where the village is. As was part of your agreement.

A few days later, you were talking to him again and noticed that his eyes weren’t on you. He was looking past you, staring at something in the difference. His hands clawing at the glass and his tail twitching as his nose wrinkled.

You turned around to see what he was looking at, your stomach sinking as you finally realised why he was so on edge. Darkened clouds rolling closer and rough waves entered your vision before you looked back at Ratonhnhake:ton “We need to get you out the tank”

It took mere seconds for the rain to pelt down onto the ship, the crew working to keep steady but you were far more focused on getting the tank opened. The glass had already started to shake and Connor was getting more and more panicked as he slammed his hands against the sides. “Stop slamming! You’ll make it worse” but he couldn’t hear you over the sound of the wind and rain.

The Orca just wasn’t listening as you tried to pull the latches but the rain had made them extra slippery and it took more time than you wanted for you to pull the lid open, sliding it off until it crashed the other side. The boat tipped causing you to hold onto the tank, and as it tipped the water soaked your clothes, Ratonhnhake:ton spilled out with it until he was on the deck. The boat righted itself for a moment but still rocked and for a moment he stayed there until you were next to him on your knees, hands pushing against his hip and bicep as you tried to get him to move.

“Go! Go!” he could barely hear your shouts over the storm but the look in your eyes and how hard you were trying to move him told Connor all he needed to know. He managed to roll himself over and started using his hands to try and get closer to the edge of the boat, using anything he could to pull himself but it was difficult to do with the boat rocking.

When it tipped again he managed to grab hold of the railings and pull himself over, you latched onto something close, your hands curling around the rope as you watched his black and white tail go overboard. Then his head popped back up as he waved his hand for you to come over to him, you would have. You should have.

But instead you shook your head, you just couldn’t. His eyes seemed sad now. Connor gave you a single nod before he was back beneath the waves, and you stood up slowly. Carefully begin to make your way beneath the deck, to the safety and sanctity of the inside.

You cried out as the boat tipped. Gasping as the railings hit your stomach, knocking any breath in your lungs out of you as you fell over the slippery metal. Your hands tried to grip and hold on before the battering of the rain and the water on your hands meant you found no perch.

People had already gotten below deck or managed to find something to hold on. None of them near you which meant you slipped beneath the violent waves with no hope.

Your eyelids felt heavier and heavier as you sunk, your body like led even as your mind screamed at you to move. To swim upwards and get your head above the wave. You just couldn’t do it. Then your eyelids were too heavy, your internal monologue screaming at you to not close them.

There was surely water in your lungs by now. You certainly felt like there was some in your mouth. That horrible tang of saltwater, the pressure of the ocean pushing you further down.

The world seemed to fade around you, mind still screaming at you and blood rushing past your ears, managing to drown out the sounds of the tempest above. It was so peaceful beneath the waves, the violence of the storm having no effect on what lay below.

With your consciousness slipping away, you were sure the feeling of something wrapping around your waist and holding your head into something hard was your imagination.

Perhaps death’s cold and final embrace.

#connor ac3 #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton #assassin's creed 3 #asassins creed #ac3 x reader #ac3 #assassin's creed #merfolk au #merfolk!assassins creed #merman!connor kenway

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sprawca · 9 months

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very quick warm-up boy

#stopped using tablet for a month (1)#cannot use it anymore im sorry #altair ibn la'ahad #my brother came to my room #saw my drawing #laughed and left #is it the ac or is it my drawing :((#asassins creed #my art

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gococogo · 1 month

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"I've missed your touch" Haytham x Reader? 👉👈

Prompt 3 | Haytham Kenway x Male Reader

Synopsis: You've been away for far too long and you come back realizing that Haytham wants you more than you realize.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Le smut. Blowjob. Hand job. Slight manhandling. Marking.

Notes: Thank you for the request!! I hope you don't mind that i chose to go with a male reader, was just easier to write with. Please enjoy!!

Thomas Hickey’s bark of a laugh makes you visibly wince. Even though you try your best not to, the sound is horrific. It’s more on the lines of a hack with mucus stuck in the back of his throat than anything else and you find it revolting. You can’t help it but your lip curls up ever so slightly as your eyes drift over to him. He swings back on his chair before coming back with the legs coming down with a loud clash. It’s as if the Green Dragon goes silent for a moment before the choir of voices arise up again.

Hickey points at you with a finger while still holding his ale in hand, “You got chased by dogs!?” He shouts out a little too loudly.

“Singular,” you correct. “It was one dog.”

“Mate,” Hickey grins wickedly, “I don’t think that makes it any better.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but catch the Grandmaster’s dark blue gaze appointed to you. He has his hands clasped together in front of his mouth and his tricorn sits low over his face. But you can still see his gaze fixed upon you.

Lazy like, he looks away and gestures a hand out to Hickey, “And what have you done in the month while my tracker has been on his trek these past six months?”

That cuts Hickey short. He’s the only one at this table with you and Haytham and you don’t understand why? Well, you do to some degree. He’s here for the women and the ale fifty percent of the time. The other fifty? You have no clue what he does for Haytham’s cause or how he keeps his worth but he obviously does something right.

You’ve met Gist once and as much as you wouldn’t put them in the same category, that man is a drinker himself. Yet, he’s still able to keep his worth clearly to any passerby. Goes about travelling with that Irishman most of his days now. Haven’t seen him in a good few years.

Hickey tries to defend him, “I’ve been-“

“I know what you’ve done,” Haytham says with a raised hand. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Hickey looks to you up and down with a scowl and sets his ale aside. He stands from his chair, making it scratch against the floorboards loudly before dismissing himself to the Grandmaster. You’re quite surprised that no one else has showed up yet for your arrival back. Maybe most have forgotten about you. Or they’re away.

You can’t truly blame them though. You’re not a true part of the Templar cause. You’re a messenger, an information collector that gets paid by how important the job is. You wouldn’t compare yourself to that voyager Captain Cormac but the others have. But only by the way that both of you skip and hop around the place like a rabid dog. Unable to stick to one place for too long.

But it’s what you get paid for. Heading all the way out west and south to retrieve information for Haytham. It can be tiresome some months but most days it’s worth it. Seeing all the sights that America has to give.

But all of Haytham’s attention is on you now. He stands up slowly before looking you over. Something he’s been doing all day ever since you jumped off your horse coming back into Boston. You had to come all the way from Lower Louisiana with important French intel. Something Cormac wasn’t able to do since he’s up north. Probably still is since he’s not currently present.

You don’t want to hold a grudge against the poor man but it’s very hard when you’ve barely seen Haytham. The urge to reach out and touch is an itch that won’t go away. But, for the sake of Haytham’s reputation, you keep to yourself. The last thing Haytham wants is someone to see him with a man. You adjust your specks, pushing them up your nose. Maybe one day things will change.

The Grandmaster holds out a hand, gesturing towards the stairs. “Walk with me?” He asks with a small hint of amusement.

You nod your head gently, “Of course.”

Leading the way down the stairs and out the door, you can’t help but let your shoulders ease with relief. A brief touch on your upper arm has you looking to Haytham with a solum expression, even though you feel your chest constrict within you. It’s been too long since you’ve seen him. He hasn’t changed a bit but you may say the lines around his eyes have gotten a bit more prominent. But it suits him.

“Come,” is all Haytham says before making his way down the street.

Blunt as always. That’s something you haven’t missed. With your hands behind your back, you walk after him. You keep your tongue still, not wanting to overstep or speak out of turn. Despite him telling you that he’s a high society man in the past, you’ve seen him break into too many places to count, kill without remorse and cause chaos in the middle of the street. Something that has you rolling your eyes every time.

But something you did not expect is for Haytham to step down the way of his own estate. You’ve only been here once and that was a good few years ago now. All your other little inquiries with Haytham have been held… elsewhere. It should leave a sour taste in your mouth but with each passing travel, you find yourself yearning for the man more. Even though sometimes he feels so far away when he’s right beside you.

Haytham Kenway’s estate is a two storey building on the outskirts of Boston. You can only guess to keep away from everyone else. But with the rate this place is growing he soon might be surrounded by other houses and properties. Most likely outshining Haytham’s in every way possible. But that’s the future.

You bring your eyes down to Haytham opening the door for you. His tricorn is off his head and he gesture inwards with it for you to enter first. You hum softly as you enter into Haytham’s home. And instantly, the smell of foxing books and tea leaves invades your nose. It’s almost overpowering but it’s almost familiar. The door clicks behind you softly.

“So, what matters did you want to discuss, sir?” You ask as you loosen your cravat from your neck.

A hand presses into the small of your back and you can’t help but stiffen up. You look to Haytham as he comes to your front, feeling around your waist until he stops on your stomach.

“There are no, important matters,” Haytham slurs out. “Only you.”

You can’t help but stifle out a laugh as you place a hand over his. He raises a brow to you, that concerned look coming over his features. This is not the man that you met earlier today. His eyes are too soft now, not the hard dark blue that could stop anyone in their tracks.

“You haven’t missed me that much have you?” You asks with a lilt of cockiness in your voice. It’s hard not to have it there, not with the way that Haytham looks to you now.

“Hmm, I would say as much,” Haytham hums out.

With nimble fingers, the hand on your stomach comes up and plucks your specs off your nose. You watch intensely as he folds them up in one hand before putting them off aside. You truly hate it when he does that because everything becomes a little fuzzy around the edges. But the way he looks at you is something that’s worth the minor inconvenience.

You finally reach out and unclasp the clip to his coat. It falls heavily to the ground with a heavy thud. Your hand touches his neck before caressing up his cheek. He grips your hand and pulls it away to kiss your palm. What a sweet man.

“Do you wish to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, Haytham brings you closer for a desperate kiss. One fill with teeth and tongue. But, you return it all the same with a hand gripping into his dark hair undoing that red bow he always has tied in it. He groans into the touch, a sound you savour all the same.

He pushes you backwards into the wall, almost knocking a painting off its hook. Haytham never parts from you though as his hands waver and venture down your chest, undoing every button on your vest in his path. The vest is discarded with your shirt coming next. You suddenly feel very exposed as his dark eyes look over you.

“This ain’t fair, Haytham,” you push him backwards with a hand on his chest. He complies, taking small steps backwards into the living room. Inches away from the fancy lounge he has, he grabs your hand and takes it from his chest.

“Many things aren’t fair, dear,” Haytham says.

You can’t help but scowl as he turns you around and pushes you backwards onto the lounge instead. You land with an oof onto the soft couches. You should be upset but the way that Haytham grips onto the back of the lounge as he leans over you with that look, it’s very hard to feel that way. Especially when everything you’re feeling is travelling down below, filling out in your pants.

Haytham comes down onto the couch, a leg coming between your own and pressing against your crouch. You can’t help the hiss that escapes from mouth. It’s been a while since you’ve let anyone touch you. And when a large hand kneads you through your pants, the groan that comes from your throat is savoury.

“What have your thoughts have me been? Since I’ve been away all this time?” You ask with a grin.

Haytham looks to you and you can see so many thoughts run behind his eyes. He leans down and kisses your neck, your jaw and then your lips.

“Many things,” he whispers deeply.

You lightly grab his face, making him look at you. “Show me,” you whisper back before kissing him deeply.

Clothes are striped off at an alarming rate and Haytham’s actions become desperate. His calloused hands run over your frame as soon as you’re free of your clothing. And the shivers that run down your spine has goosebumps littering your skin. He kisses you again deeply, biting at your bottom lip and sucking. His bites and kisses venture to your neck where it almost feels like as if he’s tasting you.

You grab onto the back of his neck and drag him down further onto the couch. He has to hold onto the back of the lounge to stop himself from falling over you. You bid yourself to think and open your eyes to take in the view in front of you. The muscles on his back twitch and move as his hands feel every inch of you. You take him in the best you can as he sucks and latches himself onto your neck. A hand wraps itself around your aching cock and your eyes roll up to the ceiling.

“Haytham,” you breathe out. “Please.”

He comes up and latches onto your lips again, deep and wet. His mind is probably a blur right now because yours is too. You get lost in the pure pleasure swirling in your gut and fogging your head. You grip onto his sides, your nails digging in as the hand that’s on your cock quickens it’s pace. Your back arches slightly off the couch as he squeezes at the base before stroking back up and flicking the bead of precum that’s leaking from you. It has you panting and holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

Haytham breaks off, breathing heavily into your cheek. He grinds down onto you and you can feel his own excitement rub up against your own.

“I’ve missed you,” you breathe out into his skin. “I’ve missed your touch, Haytham.”

Haytham returns that with another kiss as if he can’t get enough of you. You grip onto his hair, tugging at his locks that earn you a deep growl. Being like this, you miss it so damn much it hurts. You earn for him too much when you’re off on your little expeditions that it’s becoming a problem. You just hope that Haytham doesn’t send you away again on another six month journey. Because you don’t think you’ll survive this one with the way he makes you feel.

And seeing him like this, desperate to touch you. Desperate to taste you. Oh, it does so many things to you. And with him moving off the couch and guiding your hips with him, your heart does a flip. He sits on his knees in front of you, the Grandmaster of the Templar Order with your cock a breath away from his kiss swollen lips. The sight is something that no one will ever get to see but you.

“This is what I’ve wanted, dear,” Haytham almost whispers. “I’ve missed this too much for my own good.”

Only you.

You grip a hand into his hair again and guide him down onto your cock. He takes you beautifully and you grind your teeth, hoping to hold out for a few minutes more. But the way that Haytham sucks and bobs his head at your bidding is almost too much. His hands grip into your thighs painfully and you know there will be bruises there later. But it’ll be a reminder to today. Something you love to see in the mirror.

All for you. And only you.

;)

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frenchoravocadotoast · 8 months

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Fundr einn forað

“Fundr einn forað”: Old Norse for “Meet the monster”

Basim Ibn Ishaq x reader

Word count: 882

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write about Basim since Valhalla and I finally found the energy to do so. I really like how his sweet personality differs from Loki's. Enjoy!

You saw it when he emerged from the cave again.

Basim had left the temple physically unscathed, contrary to what Rayhan had warned him about. Truth be told, you didn’t think you’d see him again. Your kind had spoken of the tale for many generations, from Hidden one to Hidden one, all the way to you. Those that dare open the sacred temple are never themselves again - to have their lives spared by whatever being lurks inside is punishment enough, as they later have to face a lifetime of madness. Some don’t even come back out of the cave.

First it was your parents, then Roshan, then Rayhan - everyone around you had warned you not to seek what was forbidden, what was never meant for you to find in the first place.

But it was different for him, wasn’t it? The temple was a mere enigma to you - just an ancient mystery hidden inside a cave, only calling out to you if you entertained the idea of venturing inside, but it never lured you in. Even when he’d first arrived at Alamut, Basim would always stare at the entrance of the cave. You thought it was his longing to join the creed and carry out the ceremony, but now that you saw it, there was definitely something else there. Basim was being lured by something from inside the temple.

It was slippery and fast, but if you were to pay attention closely, you’d see it. All those times you would talk by the cavern, when he’d confide in you about his nightmares - you’d notice it. It didn’t take a keen eye to see the way Basim would keep glancing at the cave, or miss the tinge of red in his pupils that would flee the second he was awoken by his night terrors. It was all the work of a jinni, he would say - but you knew better.

Gods, you knew better. You knew, you suspected, you theorized that something terrible must have been going on. It was deeper than some curse a merchant could have cast on a former thief, or a nightmare caused by stress and physical strain. You’d returned to Baghdad with him, Roshan, and Fuladh, read the scriptures, even visited the House of Wisdom to better understand what could possibly be haunting him. While Basim was busy proving himself to the Brotherhood and fighting the Ancient Ones, you’d buried yourself in books to help him battle his demons, too.

He didn’t know. One day, when he’d come back to the bureau to report his mission, he found you looking through the scrolls. He was well acquainted with your passion for literature, but the moment you’d shown your research to him, he regarded you with warmth in his eyes. You were ranting about all the different ways his night terrors could be tamed, discussed the possible identity of the so-called jinni according to the description he had provided you, made a list of curses and deities that were prevalent in ancient mythologies – and Basim just leaned in close to steal a kiss from your lips, silencing you swiftly.

You knew because you saw the way he looked at you. His eyes were brown, like the dunes of the evening desert - cool and silky sand that shone bright under the sun. Brown like the soil you walked on, the expensive leather of the books at the House of Wisdom, the damp boulders that held up the cave in Alamut. The cave that held the answers to his turmoil.

He didn’t know – but he wanted to. The lack of answers tore his soul apart. Basim just wanted to understand; what beast wanted to torment him in his sleep? Why was it seeping into daylight now, too? Did it seek revenge, when all Basim wanted was peace?

His eyes would crumble every night. You’d see the dunes in his eyes shake in fear, watch them collapse with every ragged breath he took as he held onto you. And there, in the desert night that was reflected in his eyes, a red comet would glint and flee before you could fully register it.

Basim wanted to - no, needed to know. Into the cave he’d have to go, then. Alone.

You knew he’d found whatever it was he was looking for – because he no longer held the posture of a man who was deprived of sleep, of answers. He strode with the newfound purpose of a man who looked almost smug. The novices immediately tackled him into a hug when they saw him come out, and Rayhan joined to proudly clap him on his back. And you? You were relieved, arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace as his arms enveloped you, too. But then you looked up, and his eyes shone red. The sandy dunes were bleeding, seething with anger - and then, the color was gone.

The way he looked at you - it was wrong. Like someone had taken his eyes, painted them to their liking and dipped them in blood. And his smile - it didn’t even reach his eyes. But he was still himself, same voice, same face, same manners, same Basim. Only this wasn't Basim. You knew Basim was gone.

And the man before you knew that you knew, too.

#assassins creed #assassins creed valhalla #assassins creed mirage #basim ibn ishaq #ac basim #ac mirage #basim ibn ishaq x reader #basim x reader #ac mirage x reader #basim ibn ishaq x you #asassins creed loki

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