#assassins creed IV x reader

[author-morgan]

Hi! I would like to request a one-shot for Alexios. Can it be where he finds another demise god that didnt know until the Cult tries to find her, so he then takes her in and then they fall in love? Some fluff and angst and *cough* other stuff if you want to. Thank you and I love your work!!!

Here you go! Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️ Alexios x fem!Reader

ALEXIOS LINGERS IN the shadows —watching, waiting, listening. Those in the agora pointed him to Kresilas's Residence to the south of Kydonia, near the Temple of Artemis Diktynna. Between the clues and the whispers overheard in the cave beneath the Sanctuary of Delphi, his search for Melite has led him here to Messara. Another cultist to fall upon the Spear of Leonidas.

The sea breeze rustles the dry shrubs and carries more whispers. The old fortress one of the guards mentions, looking toward the towers rising along the rocky coast see if he can squeeze out any information. Alexios flexes his fingers, draws in a slow breath, and disappears into the night. He will find Melite at the Kydonian Fort. 

The fort is built on the ruins of a lost civilization, and the tunnels beneath wind into the darkness. Alexios follows them until they spit him out into a cavernous room with felled stone columns and wooden scaffolding with a line of iron holding cells. The fort’s prison. At the center is a whipping post, and strung up by shackles is a woman, beaten and bloody with a man circling her —Melite. Alexios moves along with the shadows cast by the burning braziers, steadily moving closer.

Blood fills your mouth. Melite’s torturer had done a fine job. Your struggles earned you a bloody nose and mouth and three fewer fingernails. Four more, and Melite promised they would start taking fingers and toes. He tilts your head back, and through one strained eye, you can make out his twisted smile. It’s the same questions every day. Who is your father? Where is your father? Questions to which you know not the answer and not even lies will suffice to spare you from the pain. 

“I told you I don’t know!” You cry, voice cracked and strained. The same answer you’ve given a dozen times over. “I grew up an orphan in the streets of Kyrene.” Tears streak your face, carving paths through the dried blood and filth from the endless days. Melite shakes his head and loses the flaying knife on his belt, but Alexios will watch no longer. 

The Eagle Bearer surges forward, nigh silent, and thrusts the broken spear up and into Melite’s back. The point of the Leonidas spear emerges from the Cultist’s chest, bloody but shining in the firelight of the burning braziers. Melite goes limp in seconds with no resistance, no sound. Alexios pushes the corpse aside, but you shuffle back as much as you can —startled and frightened, unsure if this stranger is your savior or destruction.

Alexios reaches behind him, slowly, sheathing his spear back to its place on his quiver, then lifts his empty hands to show he means no harm. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, reaching up to unbind your fetters. Your arms drop down, and you rub the broken skin on your wrists —the rush of blood brings throbbing pain.

“I’m Alexios,” he says, introducing himself as he kneels in front of you, frowning at the dried blood and bruises on your face. He helps you stand on shaking knees, but there is something strange about his touch —something calling to you, as though you’ve found something you hadn’t even known was lost. “Do you have anywhere to go?” He asks, and you shake your head; it’s been years since you had anywhere you would dare call home.

HE CAN NOT leave you like this, so Alexios returns to the Adrestia. There is always room for another aboard the old trireme, but above all, Alexios needs to know if you had felt the same spark when his fingertips first brushed against yours. He has no doubt members of the Cult can be cruel for cruelty's sake, but there must be a reason Melite kept you. When your legs can no longer hold you upright, Alexios lifts you into his arms and makes his way down through the city and to the docks, and by the time he reaches the Adrestia, you are fast asleep —or unconscious, he is not sure which it is.

Barnabas and Herodotus are quick to make room when Alexios steps onto the trireme’s deck, calling Leda and Iola to help. They will have more skill than he and the others and a kinder touch to tend the open and angry wounds —Leda assures the Eagle Bearer that you will be in good hands and tells him not to linger, for there is little he can do now besides wait.

Alexios nods, looking back toward the fortress from whence he came and to the city. The answers he seeks must lie within. “Where are you going?” The old captain calls when Alexios sets back off for the heart of Kydonia.

“I still need answers,” he replies, raising the hood of his dark chlamys before disappearing amongst the dockworkers and merchants preparing for the day.

ALEXIOS RETURNS IN the dark of night after several days with newfound answers, more questions, and his pockets heavy with drachmae. Almost everyone is asleep, above or below deck. Several rowers sit on the edge of the deck, legs dangling over the water as they pass a skin of wine back and forth. He goes to the helm, standing in the center of the painted Hellas map, wondering where the winds will take him next. Running a hand over his face, he sits one on of the stern benches, then removes his sword and quiver, placing them within arm’s reach.

Though, he doesn’t expect to see you looking at him from the opposite side of the Adrestia —eyes shining in the moon and starlight. The cuts have all scabbed over, healing cleanly by the looks of it, and the bruises are fading, but Alexios knows healing physically is only half of the battle to recover. “Thank you,” you tell him, smile still weak and tired. It breaks him from his trance.

“What did they want with you?” Alexios asks, then curses himself for asking such a callous question. He has his suspicions even if he has no answers.

Your gaze flicks away, wondering how big a fool you’ll sound for speaking the truth of why Melite had captured you and strung you up for days. "They think I have the blood of hereos," you start, looking back to Alexios, but there is no ridicule in his gaze. He believes you. “Because of my father, whoever the malákas is.”

Alexios picks up the Leonidas spear and holds it out. Your brows furrow on seeing the broken spear, uncertain why he is offering it to you. “Hold this,” he says, placing the wooden lance into your palm and curling your bandaged fingers around the cloven weapon.

What happens next cannot be described. Eyes slipping shut, you focus on the spear and the energy thrumming through your body —calling to something that has yet to be fully awakened. Alexios knows you must feel something from your sharp inhale. “Do you feel it?” He asks. “Power, warmth, strength?” You nod, releasing the broken spear and focusing on him once more. “Then you do have the blood of heroes,” he tells you, lips quirking upward in a kindly smile. “As do I.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, unsure if you can process everything that has happened so quickly. None of it makes sense. You’d grown up without a family —on the streets of Kyrene— stealing food, conning those who came as tourists, and working small jobs to afford the clothes on your back. An odd start in life for someone with the blood of ancient heroes.

“Melite was a member of the Cult of Kosmos,” Alexios explains, and you nod weakly, having heard your captor speak of the Cult before and their penultimate goal of world order. In Egypt, the whispers were of a different group —the Order of Ancients. “I’m hunting them down. They have…” his voice trails off, searching for the right words though you can see the pain and anger flare up in his tawny gold eyes, chasing away the kindness, “…wronged my family.” Part of you is curious, and a budding question forms on the tip of your tongue, but the other part already knows the answer after having endured Melite’s hospitality.

He reaches out unwittingly, the backs of his fingers brushing over the fading bruise on your cheek. Alexios finds strange comfort in being this close —and he can’t help but wonder. You and he are the same, and it feels good to know he’s not alone anymore. You search his expression, unable to decipher what Alexios is thinking, but a fleeting smile kinks his lips. “You can stay, if you like,” he starts, knowing the Cult would never stop hunting you or him, not until they are all ripped from Hellas by the root. “I will protect you.” Alexios means it as a promise.

THE STARS SHINE bright overhead, and the waves softly rock the Adrestia to and fro. Time has slipped from your grasp since joining Alexios and the others —all you know is the wounds inflicted by Melite and his myrmidons no longer ail you, having left faint scars. Now, it all seems like a bad dream from a distant memory. You lie in the center of the painted map, Alexios’s head is next to yours, his legs extended in the opposite direction. He looks at you; all his curiosities have yet to be slaked. “Kyrene,” he starts, having heard you speak of the city before, “where is that?”

“South. In Libya,” you tell him, remembering the many days and nights you spent underneath the stars there, wishing one day to be able to run far away. But it's the surrounding red-rock faces and fields of flowers that you are most fond of when thinking back to childhood. “They grow poppy and silphium there.” You shift, turning to look at him. There remains much you do not know about the man who rescued you from the grasp of the Cult of Kosmos. All you know is he is kind, handsome, charming, and has the blood of ancient heroes flowing through his veins —the same as you. “Where are you from, Alexios?” You ask, wondering if he will tell you about himself. 

“I was born in Sparta,” he explains, not ready to tell you of his past yet, especially given what happened when he returned to Mount Taygetos, “but grew up on Kephallonia.” For years he dreamed of the quickest way to leave the island and its miserable inhabitants behind. Now he almost longs to return to the simplicity of life before Elpenor showed up and offered him the contract for the Wolf of Sparta. He would gladly take the Cyclops over the Cult of Kosmos.

The name of the island piques your interest, knowing Ithaka lay just off its shores —and you know the stories of the great people who hailed from there. “Have you seen Odysseus’s palace?” The tales of Odysseus and the Trojan War had been among your favorite to listen to from storytellers and your favorite to watch when sneaking into the Kyrene theatre.

He nods. “The ruins,” Alexios says, “yes.” The great palace is nothing more than felled stones, fading paint, and crumbling columns —overrun by bandits and deserters from the war between Sparta and Athens. Alexios looks back at the stars with a soft sigh. “I found the Shroud of Penelope among the ruins,” he starts. You turn on your side, smiling, hoping he will tell you more of his discoveries and victories.

YOU INSIST UPON learning how to fight properly, and Alexios finds out just how stubborn you can be. He relents after you pulled Barnabas to your side of the argument. Despite his promise, Alexios will not always be around to protect you. He circles you on the deck of the Adrestia, appraising how you hold your short sword and shield —a heavy bronze piece with the fading colors of Lakonia. “Keep your shield up,” he instructs. You heft it up farther so the curved edge hides your chin and nose. Alexios nods his approval. 

“You are Spartan,” you refute, following his pace. “Why do you not use a shield?”

“Slows me down,” he answers. Alexios had not endured the agoge, had not learned to fight with spear and shield in the Spartan way. Everything he knows has come by harsh ordeals —fighting to survive. It’s by sheer luck he’s managed to come out of so many scuffles unscathed. He sees the protest forming on your tongue, and before you can say anything, he shakes his head, pushing your shield back up into position. “But first, you must survive the fight,” he says, smiling. “And a shield will help with that.” You know he is right, even if it seems you could be just as quick as him. “Good,” he remarks, stepping back. 

Alexios lashes out without warning, his blunt sparring sword swinging low. Enemies would not be so courteous as to give a warning during a fight. You bend at the knees and lower the shield to block the blow and push back. “Better.” Then he is upon you again, blunt blade thrusting forward, but it skids off the bronze shield and to the side. It’s then you catch the opening, an opportune moment, and press forward —throw your weight behind the shield and into him. The force of the sudden impact is enough to send Alexios backward. He doesn’t regain his balance fast enough and finds himself on his back, looking up at you —surprised. 

You smile at him, and from the helm of the Adrestia the old captain laughs. “Hubris, my friend,” Barnabas calls. 

THE POPPY FIELDS of Samos are in bloom under the summer sun, their petals a bright orange-red against the clear blue water. Since hearing you speak of Kyrene and fields of flowers, Alexios has made it a point to bring you here. But it is only now that the winds have been kind enough to guide the Adrestia back east after a lengthy pursuit of four more members of the Cult of Kosmos —only a few weeds remained to pluck from the earth.

As Alexios looks upon you, it is hard to see the same woman he’d found so long ago. Before him a warrior, though with more to learn in time. And that pesky feeling tugs at his heart again when he sees how the sunlight and shadows dance across your face. 

You’ve caught him staring, he knows you have from the blossoming warmth on your cheeks and the almost shy downturn of your gaze, but it’s no matter. You step toward him and reach for one of his hands hesitantly. “Thank you for everything, Alexios,” you start, knowing words are not enough to express your gratitude for his friendship. Had he not found you…you don’t care to imagine what would have happened. “You’ve been so kind to me.”

Something is shining in your eyes Alexios has not seen before or at least has not taken notice of until now. It makes his throat feel tight and his heart heavy. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he says. Your brows furrow with how close he is and how his dark gaze flits down to your lips, you can’t help the way it makes your heart start to pound. “I may do something I regret.” He’s not going to let this moment slip away. Alexios’s fingertips brush over your cheek and back into your hair, then he leans in, warm breath ghosting across your lips. “Like this.”

His lips are soft and rough, with the slightest hint of salt from the sea breeze upon them, and his kiss is slow and confident. He cradles the back of your neck, and you meld into him, arms slipping over his shoulders to draw him closer. The spark you both felt upon first meeting flares back to life, turning to flame. “Alexios.” His name is a breathless whisper as you both part, his forehead resting against yours, then his arms settle around your waist —a gentle cage you do not wish to be freed from.

“Stay with me,” Alexios says. He does not wish to be parted from you after the gods brought you into his life —you are the same as he, and Alexios does not want to be alone in this world again. You smile and make your promise with a slow and sweet kiss, and Alexios’s lips tug into a smile against your own.

[ Alexios taglist: @wallsarecrumbling @novastale​ @maximalblaze @erzsebetrosztoczy @kitkitvm @overratedsun @alexandra-alle @thepreciouspurrsian @missmannequin @chaotic-spooky @mrsragnarlodbrok @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Alexios taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Alexios #Alexios x Reader #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #AC: Odyssey #my writing #anonymous #requested #remember if you liked this pleases reblog it #alexi-ohs is back #kinda #return of big sexios #also i dont think ive used that pic before? #oops if i have i dont remember shit no more

[the-house-of-auditore-frye]

So I want to apologise in advance for the thirst posts of Charles Vane from AC4 that are going to appear in your dashboard. Please don't be startled if a bunch of posts thirsting over a pirate appear😅

#charles vane #Charles Vane AC4 #charles vane x reader #ac4 #ac4 black flag #assassin's creed #assassin's creed black flag #assassin's creed iv: black flag #assassin's creed 4 #charles vane ac4

[just-a-dumb-gay]

Kids, dont do drugs. Otherwise you'll wind up having a staring contest with a seal hallucination like Eivor.

Can someone write a one shot where F!Eivor and reader get high as fuck and get up to dumb shit??

Bonus: Contemplating life with the seal

#this is my favourite picture ive ever taken in valhalla #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla #female eivor #f!eivor #eivor x reader #eivor varinsdóttir

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Can you do some James Kidd relationship headcanons? Love yaaa 💜💜

A/n:You’re two sweet!! And of course!

🌙: Sweet to her s/o, will do anything to protect them.

🌙: Will teach her s/o on how to shoot and defend themselves. If they really want to join theBrotherhood she’s going to make sure they are properly train.

🌙: If she is involved with a woman then James { Mary } is more of the big spoon in the relationship.

🌙: Is a sucker for hand holding, Edward teases the hell out of her for it.

🌙: Loves to sit out on the ship with their S/o to watch the stars.

🌙: Loves it when their s/o plays with their hair though she’s not shy to run her fingers through their lovers hair.

🌙: Passionate when it comes to sex, loves to hear her lover call out her name.

#hc #hcs #headcanons #james kidd #assassins creed black flag #assassins creed iv #ac black flag #assassin’s creed #assassins creed #James kidd x reader

[zeroone-eleven]

Assassin's Shadow; Mary Read (Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag)

Y/N L/N an assassin undercover, has stolen one of the red coat's uniform and taken his place beside the target. Now all that was needed is a moment with him in the shadows to strike, it wasn't easy seeing as the prick loves being in the spotlight "Such is normal I suppose, with these bloody egotistic bastards. " Y/N thinks to herself.

Another hour and he takes the two of them into a dark tavern, the assassin buys ale with him to blend in better, thirty minutes in with his third glass and the lightweight is out, glass tipped over and facedown on the table. "What an idiot." she think, it seems that there's no redeeming qualities in this bastard, so while he's out and no one's looking, Y/N takes the chance to plunge her blade into his neck. Confident that soon enough his existence will be expunged from this world completely.

She stands up and leaves before she can start to draw attention to herself by sticking around too long, there was a lot of tempting Courtesans in the tavern and she had gold, yes. But ultimately she decides that a few good hours is not worth her precious life.

Y/N finds a suitable abandoned alley and make do with it, she gets out of the red coat uniform and not a few moments later. The wind is knocked from her lungs, lying on the cold hard ground, and a man she's seen a few times before in her life is on top of her. His hand drawn back with a weapon she's also familiar with strapped to his wrist about to be used on her the way she has used it not a few moments ago, as soon as he was about to attack however, she speaks "Never compromise the creed brother."

The blade stops an inch of her neck, and as quick as lightning he helps her up and dusts her shoulders and his hands off. "Might I know ya' lass?" He asks with his smooth silky voice, a bit high for a boy his age Y/N speculates, but no matter, she knows that this isn't a boy at all. "No you might not, but I know you-" she looks around, taking in her surroundings and making sure no one is around before she continues. "Mary Read."

He- or 'she' you suppose, looks taken aback, recomposing himself the lass passing off as a lad asks how she's come by that queer information. Trying to talk his way out of this by stating it's a false rumor, Y/N rolls her eyes and holds out her hand "Y/N L/N, pleasure meeting you, Kidd." you wink at your own joke, pathetic as it may be you have to support yourself anyway.

Kidd's eyes light up in recognition of the name and he takes your hand in his. "You're our shadow." yes indeed, your rank by the order, was shadow, an honor seeing as even the other assassins thought you were a myth, you gained that name by your quick acts.

After all, a shadow is everywhere and nowhere all at once.

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed iv: black flag #assassin's creed iv #mary read #mary read x reader #james kidd #james kidd x reader #james kidd imagine #mary read imagine #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed iv imagine

[reddeaddamnation]

Being in a relationship with the assassins: <preference>

Altair: You two don’t have the chance to see each other every day, because of his duties to the Brotherhood and all the mistakes he has to fix and you understand that, even though it’s hard for you to accept it and you miss him dearly. But when you two are together, he makes every second count. He prefers to stay inside with you, just cuddling on the bed and talking and... -cough- “possibly” make love. He also loves to brag about his adventures and successful missions while he was gone.

Ezio: He is all about the display when he is with you. You two would always walk around town hand-in-hand or his arm around your waist and would constantly stop to kiss you in front of everyone just to show them who you belong to. He would also often sneak in through your window in the night to surprise you and spend some quality time with you alone -wink-

Edward: He loves to take you with him on his ship and just sail away to wherever the waves take you. He doesn’t treat you like a fragile doll, because he knows that you are a tough one and can take care of yourself. He loves display and would pull you on his lap whenever he sees fit. You two would often drink together, make vulgar jokes and just do what pirates do. He even lets you stir the wheel of the Jackdaw, but of course, he is behind you and would guide you whenever you need.

Connor: He loves to show off in front of you whether it be with his bow or his climbing skills or a story, anything. He prefers to spend your time together alone with nobody to bother you like a walk in the forest. His favorite moments are when you two think up childish games like a race up a tree.

Shay (he’s not an assassin but yeah, you get the point): Whenever he is with you, he hates it when someone disturbs you two. He would order his crew not to disturb him under no circumstances when he takes you with him on the Morrigan. He would take you to his own cabin, where you two would drink, laugh and do anything you like really. He would often talk about the future and how he would love to have a daughter after you two are married.

Jacob: He is utterly childish. Apart from the fact that when you two have a meeting, he comes out of nowhere and scares you, he would also offer a race to a certain destination. He would crack jokes all the time and show off with whatever he deems worthy just to watch you stare at him with awe  He also loves to scare you in ways like “I have to tell you something.” and when you start panicking and asking him what’s up he would answer with a big grin “I love you!”

#Assassin's creed #Assassin's creed brotherhood #Assassin's creed IV #Assassin's creed black flag #Assassin's creed III #Assassin's creed rogue #Assassin's creed syndicate #assassin's creed preference #Assassin's creed imagine #Assassin's creed imagines #altair ibn-la'ahad #ezio auditore #Edward kenway #Shay cormac #shay patrick cormac #Jacob Frye #Altair x reader #Ezio auditore x reader #Edward kenway x reader #Connor kenway x reader #Shay cormac x reader #Jacob Frye x reader

[jemwritesstuff]

rules / other stuff to regard

- this is a reader insert blog! i might occasionally do a character x character or an oc x character but those are not the focus and im scared of them not being up to my standards lmao. maybe ill even stuff in a short story of actual original content :0

- im 18+ but nsfw makes me kind of awkward sometimes so i cant promise ill fulfill those requests

- i have a right to not write a request if i dont like it / it gives me a weird feeling / i feel like i cant do it. ill try to do every ask ofc but sometimes even writing feels like a chore and doesnt bring me joy

- ill do headcannons (im new to that so they might be ramblings at first before i get the hang of it lol) and oneshots, length depends solely on how into it i get

- english isnt my first language! im basically fluent but ill still mess a grammar rule up or forget a word etc. do point it out if you notice something like that but please dont be rude about it :)

- haha canon go brrrr

some fandoms i can write for:

- Dead by Daylight (killers and survivors with some exceptions)

- Naruto (idk anything abt boruto era)

- Star Wars (mostly Mandalorian and TBOBF)

- some slashers

- Obey Me!

- Assassin's Creed (so far ive only played II, Brotherhood, IV, Rogue and Unity)

- Stardew Valley

- Skyrim & Oblivion

- Sons of Anarchy

- Mayans M.C.

- Borderlands (not tales)

- Game of Thrones

- Fallout 3, NV & 4

- The Boys (not homelander tho mf triggers the shit out of me)

- the Punisher & the Daredevil

#dead by daylight x reader #naruto x reader #star wars x reader #slasher x reader #obey me x reader #assassin's creed x reader #stardew valley x reader #skyrim x reader #sons of anarchy x reader #mayans mc x reader #the boys x reader #borderlands x reader #fallout 4 x reader #game of thrones x reader

[xadoheandterra]

Series: The Heir, The Reader, and Clay

Title: Run It Again Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Characters: Desmond Miles, Malik al-Sayf, Altair ibn La’Ahad, Maria Thorpe Pairings: Altair/Malik Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVII | XVIII Enabler: @kingbob2-0 Beta: @claire-the-queer-dragon Tags: Time Travel, Dad Malik, Desmond Raised By Others, De-Aged Desmond, Faheem Not An Asshole?, Al Mualim Is A Shady Fuck, Kadar The Badass Summary: They hadn’t found an answer yet, and Layla was impatient despite the promise of the Grey being timeless in its nature. She didn’t want to have to search for an answer that might never come–so she made another suggestion. Why not just change it? Why not counter the Isu influence on the Pieces of Eden where it counted, and counter what Juno inevitably did to the Eye in the Grand Temple?

It was all the push that Desmond needed to let himself be just that bit more selfish. So selfish he chose to be, and there was one moment where the Isu’s hold on the Pieces of Eden had a profound effect–the Levantine Brotherhood. Altair Ibn La’Ahad. Al Mualim. There was just one problem–Desmond was eight, a child, and didn’t remember dying.

Layla at least had his back, even if she was just a bit fashionably late.

Faheem tossed an apple as he lounged above the Bureau, lips pressed together in thought. The Master had given him a rather important job, one that he intended to see through, and relayed some disturbing information as well. The idea that Malik could be targeted, that he was known to their enemy if not by name then by profession--it grated against his instincts. Faheem could not understand how Malik was known; for all that he had little opinion of his eldest and the man's choices, he knew Malik was talented. He knew Malik was clever--that Malik would not have revealed himself to the enemy so easily, not like that fool Eagle the Master doted on.

It left a sour taste in Faheem's mouth to know that Malik was at risk. Certainly, his position in Jerusalem was a risk in and of itself but if any could survive the dangers of Jerusalem, Faheem knew it would be his son. He did not like that the Master had named Malik Dai, he truly thought Malik was not ready for the position--was too young and untried and untested to hold such a burden on his shoulders--and then to be Rafiq on top of it? It was too much. Faheem knew his son and knew he would eventually buckle under the pressure--but then that was before Faheem saw Kadar, before his youngest son turned up alive.

Kadar would keep Malik grounded. Kadar would support his brother and help share the burdens that would come from his position--his soft boy would do anything for Malik and Faheem knew it. It grated in the way it always did--that Kadar would be so devoted to Malik as to throw away his own chances at advancement, at showing his own skill--but Faheem had long grown used to his youngest's hero worship of his brother.

Footsteps drew Faheem's attention from the apple in his hand, and his thoughts. He caught the fruit, and bit into it as he glanced over toward the ladder Malik had dragged to the open latticework and then climbed. His gaze tracked to the missing arm, as it always did--the way the sleeve was folded up and pinned in place; the way Malik held it stiffly to his side, and the small unconscious movements that showed how much he was still unused to the missing limb. For a moment hatred burned, as it always did, and Faheem cursed the Eagle and his arrogance.

"You have been up here for most of the day," Malik said dryly, and Faheem saw he held the thick Book of Accounts under his arm, wrapped in a sling so that he could drag it up to the roof. "I expected you to come in and state your business hours ago."

Faheem glanced to Malik's face, then huffed and turned his own gaze away. "I thought I was not welcome." He could feel the look his eldest sent him--it was the same look Ketifah would give him when he was being particularly obstinate. Faheem found the reminder did not bring him the typical surge of bitterness it normally did--instead he felt a small niggle of shame. The same shame he'd felt ever since he had returned to Masyaf without the Novices in toll--the shame he felt after the Master had torn into him for his own conduct.

Rashid was right; Ketifah would be horribly ashamed of Faheem's behavior these past eight years. She had loved their son despite the difficult birth, despite the difficulties in rearing him--despite Malik's continued illnesses and poor health throughout childhood. Ketifah had loved Malik, and every failed pregnancy afterward, every child that failed to come to term, never diminished that love. She would hate the man Faheem had become. Faheem honestly hated himself just the slightest bit as he realized this--as Rashid spoke to him with harsh words as weapons.

"You are not welcome when you choose to be an ass," Malik said finally. "So far you have been respectful, if a bit unlike yourself."

"My mind is my own," Faheem said, words the slightest bit sharp, and Malik huffed in response.

"Of course, forgive my impertinence," Malik sneered back--and Faheem sighed. He massaged the bridge of his nose and decided to take another bite of his apple as he frowned in thought. "The matter remains why you have come here."

For a moment Faheem wondered if he should entertain this--entertain the Dai Malik was now, entertain Malik as Rafiq and ranks above him. He eyed the hem of Malik's robes, the unique symbol that was Malik sewn down by his ankles. Dai suited Malik: it really settled well on his skin--like a comfortable mantle on his shoulders. Faheem chewed his apple, swallowed, and said quietly, "A threat has been made against you. I am to eliminate it."

"A threat?" Malik countered. "What threat? Who has made this threat?"

Faheem shrugged and said, "The Master had not felt the need to share such information, only that a threat has been made and for me to eliminate it. Currently it is presumed to be a woman named Maria Thorpe, although the truth of it remains to be seen...." Truly the Master had said to kill Maria Thorpe, and he said it with such vitriol that it felt personal. He then added that there was a threat to Malik; Faheem figured the threat was this Maria, although in the rare moment that he chose to use his ability to think he wondered if that were true.

Faheem looked to Malik, saw the way Malik's face had closed off as he gripped the Book of Accounts with white knuckles. He said, slowly, "And what do you plan to do with this Maria Thorpe?"

"Observe," Faheem said shortly. "Determine if she truly is a threat or not. She is a woman, after all. I am not certain as to her true risk--"

"She is a Templar," Malik said, and Faheem froze. "Rather high in the ranks if what I have seen is true. She is also a client, and an... acquaintance." Faheem watched as Malik's fingers loosened their grip and began to toy with the edge of the Book. "I am uncertain if she truly believes the rhetoric of the Templars. She seems strangely clever for one of the Crusaders, and more than a bit ignorant despite her high standings. Young, naïve...." Malik did not say innocent, but Faheem could certainly read between the lines.

Faheem frowned; Malik had a sense for these things. He had always been uncannily good at parsing potential threats--nothing like the Eagle, who was Gifted, but enough that Faheem often wondered. Malik was rarely wrong, especially once he'd had a few conversations with a person--and Faheem closed his eyes and said slowly, "I will observe."

For a moment Malik didn't say anything back, and then he headed back toward the ladder with an incline of his head. "Come inside, rest up and freshen yourself before you spend your time observing your target." Faheem climbed to his feet and followed Malik; footsteps silent. "Please be aware that my novices are not to be bothered."

"Understood," Faheem nodded his head, and Malik began the short climb down the ladder. Faheem waited until he moved out of the way and taken the ladder down before he jumped into the Bureau himself. He followed Malik as his eldest led him through the shop, through the door, and into the Bureau. Malik set the Book of Accounts down on a nearby table, unhooked from its sling and settled the sling next to it as he began to point out prominent locations.

"The Barracks is here, we have free cots one of which you may claim for now," Malik said shortly. "When my novices are in the training yard you are to leave them alone. If they are in the Bureau studying, you are to leave them alone. If you see them in the city practicing, you are to leave them alone. Do help them if they get into trouble, however." Faheem tilted his head back in understanding. "You may ask Jawad if you have any concerns about mealtimes, he tends to handle most of the day to day of the Bureau while I work the shop."

"Jawad is your apprentice?" Faheem asked.

"Yes. Hakim and Alem handle any apothecary needs we have," there was that look again; Faheem recognized the name of Farid's novice and Kadar's main apprentice. He scowled, but bit back his choice words. After a moment Malik seemed to accept his silence as he turned toward the main living space. "There is one last thing you must be made aware of--"

Before Malik could explain, a shorter form raised his head from the table and smiled wide with the slightest bit of a gap. His hair was short, and his eyes practically gleamed in that way that Faheem recognized from the Eagle. In fact, the boy looked eerily like a young Altair, enough to give Faheem pause--eyes wide. The child launched himself at Malik, clenched his arms around his waist with a yell of, "Papa!" and Faheem--Faheem stilled, breath frozen.

Papa?

Malik turned slightly, placed his hand on the boy's head, and addressed Faheem with fondness Faheem hadn't heard out of his son in a long, long time. "This is my son, Desmond. You will treat him kindly."

A son. Faheem swallowed. His boy had a son--he had a grandson. His gaze darted to Malik and for a moment it hurt; the fact that Malik chose to keep this from him, to hide this boy from him--and for how long? The child was clearly older, younger than Jamilla that Faheem had not seen in some time, but old enough that he could begin training soon. Old enough to learn--and he was learned, Faheem noted. He could see knicks on the boys’ fingers, slight callouses from blade practice.

Faheem swallowed, heavily, and then knelt before Desmond--such an odd name, perhaps the boys’ mother chose it; where was she?--and said, softly, "Safety and peace, habibi." He waited, watched; those eyes flashed gold--the Eagle's Gift, Faheem noted with a faint bit of hysteria--and the boy shifted a bit into Malik's side, eyes narrowed on Faheem.

"Do not hurt papa," the boy said, words sharp, and Faheem winced.

"I... will try not to," Faheem agreed. "I have...made mistakes with Malik. I know." He heard Malik's sudden intake of breath, of surprise at his words. "I will try to be better."

Desmond frowned. "Promise?"

Faheem nodded. "I promise, habibi." If not for Ketifah, who would have his hide for his decorum around Malik, then for this small wonder that Faheem had never thought to see--never thought to contemplate. Malik had not shown interest before, and Faheem had presumed never would, and so he had long given up on seeing any child come from Malik's house. This was a gift, one that looked like that distasteful Eagle but with Malik's clear inquisitiveness, and Kadar's softness--Ketifah's softness--and Faheem wanted. He wanted to be a part of this little gift's life, in whatever capacity Malik would allow.

 Kadar pressed his fingers to his lips as he looked over the now scribbled map, covered in notes and scrap paper that held the various information he, Jamal, Omar, and Numair had gathered the past few days. The picture that had been painted had not been a good one; the hold of the Templars in the city was telling enough, subtle in the way that wanted to drive Kadar mad. It was not unusual for groups like these Crusaders to gain strangleholds in cities, under leadership like Abu'l Nuquod, but that was why they had Bureau's in the first place--and it was clear that Khaliq had little desire to run the Bureau these days.

There were whispers, between the Informants and the Novices and then the city itself, that Abu'l had some sort of plan in the works. A party was being planned, and Kadar could see the shape of things to come--a city slowly disabused to their leader, one who had sided with Templars, that needed some form of relief. A man, so sick with responsibility and power and so easily and readily capable of abusing it. A Bureau of Assassins that had gathered all the intelligence needed, and Kadar would bet a message had already been sent to Masyaf about it--and the whispers, the whispers from the Novices were the worst.

"They expect our Eagle to handle things, don't they," Jamal said, voice quiet as he hunched in one corner, the twins curled up in another, as Kadar crouched over their notes and map and scraps of paper.

"It would explain why we have not seen anyone but a Novice here or there, or the Informants..." Omar agreed, and Kadar pressed his fingers tighter to his lips.

"But City Assassins exist for this reason," Numair countered, hands clenched into fists at his side. "They are here to make sure our cities are liberated, and to help in other contracts--to be our back up.... right?"

Kadar pressed his fingers firmer against his mouth, eyes narrowed as Omar, Numair, and Jamal whispered to each other their own thoughts--their thoughts that mirrored his thoughts. In a day Abu'l planned to have a party; rumors indicated that Abu'l planned something potentially devastating to happen to the party. Between the backroom deals that the twins managed to gather from the Informants to the Templars very careful maneuvers through the city, Kadar had an ill feeling. It churned as he viewed the map, went through the information piece by piece--and it near roiled as he recalled Altair's continued absence in Damascus.

They had left Jerusalem at most a day and a half apart, Kadar knew. He knew the length of time it took to travel from Jerusalem to Damascus, from Jerusalem to Masyaf--he knew logically if all things went well Altair should have been in the city at least two days after Kadar and the Novices had arrived--should have been with them for at least a day now. They had planned it--planned to meet up, to exchange information between them so that Altair would not walk near as blind into things as he had been before--and yet Altair was not here. If the pattern held, the one Malik and Kadar had determined together while Altair rested with Desmond curled beside him, then Abu'l would be one of the new targets the Master sent Altair on.

Altair was not here; Abu'l plotted--and Kadar wanted to curse the heavens for that. Instead, he took a sharp breath as the shape of things made themselves finally clear before him, uttered a short prayer for strength, and began to carefully pull out his own stones and rocks from his travel pack, followed by a second, fresh map that had none of the scribbles and marks that Kadar had made with the information they had all gathered. The Novices fell silent as Kadar marked off the Bureau and the location where Salim typically loitered. Kadar had tracked his movements as he was the Assassin of Damascus at any rate, for how little he seemed to care about things. It made Kadar itch, the urge to show the man what it meant to be part of the Brotherhood that he seemed to have otherwise forgot.

After a moment Kadar huffed and turned his gaze away from supposed allies--they would have no help from that quarter, Kadar knew well enough. Khaliq was more focused on his pottery than on the Bureau. Salim was more focused on leisurely things than on the tenants of the Brotherhood. The Novices Kadar might be able to use, if they had more time and if Kadar could be more assured of their skill--but with the way Salim and Khaliq treated Damascus, its problems, and the Templars, Kadar doubted their Novices fared much better. No, he would have to rely on who he brought with him. He prayed for strength again, a silent mantra for hope as he marked off the location of the party, the guard rotations, and positions, and then sat himself back.

The Novices, once they saw Kadar settle and finish with his carefully marked map, immediately shifted to look it over. They stayed silent for a moment longer as Kadar watched them, and then Omar raised his head with a frown and a whispered, "Master?"

The title Master had become frequently used these past days, enough that Kadar finally settled himself with it as much as he was able, although he still felt a little stiff under the title. At any rate Kadar looked to the map, and then sighed heavily.

"For whatever reason Altair has been held up," Kadar said, words carefully chosen. "There is less than a day’s worth of time until the Merchant Prince's plan will come to pass." What Kadar did not say was that practically none of them knew what the plot truly was, only hushed gossip that made little sense in the grand scheme of things. All they knew is that it would happen at the party and given the unrest that was whispered about Kadar felt firm that the aftermath would be bad.

"We cannot kill him," Numair said, voice shaky as he looked to Kadar. "We are not trained, Master."

"No," Kadar agreed, brow furrowed. "You are not trained enough for a kill such as this." He gestured to the map, pointed out the location of the guards, the scheduled rotation. "This is a kill-box," Kadar explained as he marked entrances and exits with a finger. "One designed for Altair's use." The subtle implications of that were not missed on Kadar. The fact it was planned, that Abu'l's party was shifted to be a kill-box designed for Altair's use, to lend to Altair's strengths...Kadar narrowed his eyes and focused on the present and not the way his thoughts wanted to jump to connection after connection.

"He is not here, though," Jamal ducked his head when Kadar glanced his way.

"It is also clearly a trap intended to slaughter Altair," Kadar continued, and the Novices fell silent in that sick and breathless way as the realization landed home. "Even with me, even with four of us--we could not kill Abu'l at the party. We will die in the attempt." Kadar leaned back, hands tense in his lap. "I worry though what the Merchant Prince plans. You have not been able to glean anything?" He looked to Jamal, who quickly shook his head negative. Kadar let out an explosive breath and closed his eyes. He murmured, just barely audible to the others, "It would be better to wait...."

"Would it?" Omar leaned forward on his hands and knees as he slapped the map. "Would it really be better to wait Master?"

Numair nodded. "We could strike early, before Abu'l reaches the party."

Kadar frowned; the risk alone, on a day when guards would already be on high alert--he shook his head negative, and the twins scowled in response. "I know," Kadar said, and he hated the helpless feeling the curled in him, "but it is too risky Omar, Numair--we--"

"Servants."

The three turned to Jamal who blinked as he bit his lip, fingers twisted in his lap. There was a hoarse, "What?" from the twins that had Jamal twist to look at them, and then at Kadar.

"We could be servants. I doubt they would notice if a few younger servants joined the household, or even care," Jamal gave a little scoff at the end. Kadar turned his head away, pressed his hand to his mouth as he thought about that for a moment. Servants would mitigate some of the risk--but what type of servants and who? It was still dangerous; Kadar was much too old and clearly trained to pass as a simple servant, and he needed to keep watch for Altair just in case....

Yet it made sense; Kadar knew it would provide a safe enough cover for the three Novices in the least, especially as Abu'l and his guards would expect Novice Greys and Assassin Whites, and not something as simple as household staff. He could hear distantly conversation between the three younger boys as he puzzled over this new potential, this new chance to at least mitigate some damage. The twins would make decent stable-hands and as stable-hands they could monitor those in and out of Abu'l's property. Jamal was smaller, younger, slighter than the other boys though and thus would be given odd looks if he stayed with Omar and Numair--not to mention that three new servants together begged disaster. What could he do, though--where could Jamal fit into things?

Distantly Kadar heard Jamal say, "Give me a headscarf and I can be one of the girls in the kitchen," while the twins protested vehemently.

"Jamal!"

"You can't say things like that!"

"Of course I can, I just did!"

The idea itself had merit and would neatly place Jamal into a position that tied closely to the other boy's niche skillset. He was the youngest Novice by far, being ten to Omar and Numair's thirteen. Jamal was not as strongly trained in combat, lacked most of the muscle Omar and Numair had put on being older and taller boys. Kadar raised a hand as his decision became clearer, the plan firmer in his mind. Immediately the bickering between the three settled into silence.

"Jamal is right," Kadar said into the silence. "He would be best in the kitchen as one of the girls." He ignored Jamal's wide grin and crowed 'hah!' or the way the twins winced. "It is...unorthodox, I agree," Kadar said carefully, "but Jamal is young enough that he can pull it off. I have a scarf in my bag, Jamal. You may use it."

"Thanks, Master!" Jamal cheered and quickly dived for Kadar's bag while Kadar smiled a bit wryly.

"Now then, Novices, here is the plan..." Kadar leaned forward and began to explain. Eagerly each boy leaned in as well to listen, and Kadar felt a rightness settle in him. They could do this. Was it right? No, probably not--they were young, young enough that Kadar really did not want them in the thick of this danger and yet...yet it was the only path forward Kadar could see. The only way they could stop the potential damage of Abu'l Nuquod without Altair's presence. The only way to keep these boys alive. It would have to do.

Kadar would make sure if it.

 Rashid pressed the papers down and closed his eyes from the headache that threatened to engulf him. Out of everything only one of the letters from Malik referenced Farid by name, buried deep beneath all the rest. Rashid did not recall reading it, although it had been opened, the seal disturbed. This letter had come through courier, given the thickness of it. One of their messenger birds could not have been able to carry the weight. Most of its information had been basic, things Rashid had already known about.

Farid--Farid had been information that Rashid hadn't, when rightly he should have. There was no express mention of a dead Assassin in any of the Records or Accounts Malik had sent in except in vague summation as to a potential traitor to the Brotherhood. Each of the Novices that Malik had discovered, and their Accounts of what had happened to Kadar and the Apothecary, had been left in a vague and slightly coded manner that kept all pertinent information protected. This was in accordance with Malik's duties of care to younger members of the Brotherhood, so Rashid had no reason to worry about it. At least not at first.

Yet--yet Malik had seen fit to give Rashid names and Rashid had not remembered. Rashid had names of course, he knew Farid had been sent to relieve Shadi as the Assassin of Jerusalem; Shadi unfortunately had taken a debilitating injury and needed to return to Masyaf. He had died from unknown wound before he could reach the fortress; his body discovered by Raimi when the other Assassin had returned from a job in a smaller city, one that lacked a Bureau. Farid had in his care Hakim, a clever Novice who was close to passing his Trials and being Blooded. Their stay in Jerusalem was meant to be a permanent one for Farid, and temporary for Hakim who would return a few months later for his Trails pending Kadar's response.

Of course, that didn't happen; Rashid knew that didn't happen because while Farid had been sent to Jerusalem only months before the mess in Solomon's Temple, Hakim had not been set to return for at least two months after the mess in the Temple, after Robert tried to storm Masyaf's gates. By then Rashid had received news as to the Bureau's fate and had not thought further on events since.

Omar and Numair were twin Novices that were in Jerusalem for city training among Informants, to put the skills they had so far been honing in Masyaf to the test. By the records in the fortress, they had been in the city for over half a year at this point, and were not due back for at least a year more. Alem would have been the oldest of them at round fifteen discounting Hakim, but Alem had been marked as an apothecary apprentice and not necessarily an assassin to be. Alem's path in life had been decided as Rafiq eventually, and the boy had seemed comforted with the idea.

This letter though named them only briefly; it touched upon Farid's fate, that he had been killed by Hakim no less in a fit of self-defense when Farid had aimed to have the boy taken by Templars of the city. It stated that Kadar had then put his Bureau on essentially lock down, per the Novices. The Novices did not know if aid had been requested of Masyaf, although Rashid doubted Kadar would not have sent word once, he verified everything. Kadar had been clever and thorough in his duties, Rashid knew.

The last name in the list, though, briefly mentioned was what brought Rashid up cold. The idea that there was a ten-year-old Novice who had snuck out of the fortress was not unusual, some of the more clever Novices that were bored with training often snuck after Assassins who left for field work, and all were caught relatively quickly. The few that weren't...well, their fate was their own, as sad as it may be. Still Rashid had paused on the name of this Novice, felt his chest tighten as his breath hitched. Jamal.

Jamal was in Jerusalem.

Jamilla was in Jerusalem.

He had not known; Rashid did not know how he had not known but he had not known. A part of him wanted to pull Rana from the Garden, demand if she had known what Jamilla had been up to, what the fool child had done. Another part of him wanted to strangle Faheem, half certain this was that fool's fault in some way. The rest of him contended with the fact that he could be assured that Jamilla was safe. Malik was as overprotective as they could come when it came to the young of Masyaf. He would ensure Jamilla's continued safety.

No, no beyond Jamilla's fool desire to leave the safety of the Fortress, and apparently skill to follow through with it, she had born witness to Farid's betrayal. Per the Accounts it was Jamilla who reported the traitorous acts, Jamilla who had brought Hakim's attention to the plot, Jamilla who had risked herself needlessly and then been kept out of fear of--Rashid wasn't certain. Retaliation? Were the Templars aware of her, aware of what she had done? His hands shook; Rashid hated that his hands shook as he stared down at the letter. He had not known. He should have known.

Did Faheem? If Jamilla were still being Jamal Rashid could not be certain. The girl was cleverer than he had expected; when she first declared herself Jamal, dressed in Novice greys, it had taken Rashid by surprise. He had not realized she had changed her clothes so easily, changed her demeanor--had not recognized the girl in the young boy who had snuck his way into training with the other Novices. He doubted Faheem could do the same, but there was always the chance that Faheem would see the resemblance where Rashid had brushed it aside--no. No Rashid doubted he would.

Half of a missive was already drafted in the old man's mind as he turned away from the letters. He would need to ensure that Faheem brought Jamilla back to the safety of Masyaf. While he was certain Malik could keep her out of trouble, he was also aware that Malik's own position was precarious. If Faheem could handle the threat, then maybe Rashid would feel generous to let the girl stay, but then Rashid could not be certain the threat would end so easily either. This was Robert, after all. The man was cleverer than people gave him credit and Rashid knew that well.

"Master?"

Rashid blinked rapidly and turned his gaze to Altair, who sat in the room in silence as he had done for the past several days. Each day Altair had come to seek his next targets, each day Rashid had bid him patience as he needed to go through the letters, the Accounts, and scour anything for truth. Each day when he grew frustrated with a lack of information Rashid then turned to Altair and questioned him about how things were in the Bureau, about Malik and Kadar, about Malik's Novices and those he had taken under his wing. Most of his questions revolved around Malik's duties as Dai and Rafiq both, as a cartographer and a scholar, and how he handled and ran the Bureau. About finances and other small tidbits that he was certain Altair and Malik had probably talked about when they had not bickered with one another.

Each day Altair replied succinctly; he talked about Hakim and Alem and how they handled any apothecary needs of the Bureau. He talked about Kadar being alive, how the young al-Sayf had taken to teaching the Novices and assisting Malik around the Bureau. He talked about the training the Novices underwent, a bit more intense that Rashid typically saw from Bureau leaders and their Novices, but expected given Malik's training and temperament. Altair was impatient, Rashid knew, but he could not have the man leave just yet--not yet when things were so precarious and different--

Another letter, from Damascus, rested in the corner of his desk. Rashid wanted to ask about the stranger in Malik's Bureau today. It was his intent to ask about the stranger, but then he'd found the letter and the damning contents within, however light. Then he learned of how Jamilla was in Jerusalem and away from Masyaf. Any thought he had of asking Altair further fled his mind with that, and while he still had plans to question the boy further, he had delayed Altair by nearly five days now. There were still targets the boy needed to seek out, to kill--threats that Rashid needed to cut away from himself and Robert. These were dangers, and Rashid knew his duty. He was Shaykh al-Jabal. He was Al Mualim. He was Mentor--and there were three more targets that awaited Altair's skill.

"I have three more men for you to concern yourself with," Rashid said, and he watched the way Altair twitched, eyes wide for half-a-second beneath his hood.

Altair ducked his head; he said, "Give me names and I shall give you blood, Master," and Rashid smiled.

#fic: run it again #fic: the heir the reader and clay #Assassin's Creed #altair ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #al mualim #desmond miles #faheem al sayf #kadar al sayf #fanfic #altmal #altmal raises baby desmond #desmond lives au #time travel #wip

[unprofessional-bard]

MASTERLIST.

Last Updated: 12/12/2022

Losing My Religion Series Last Updated: 16/08/2021

NOT TAKING REQUESTS AT THE MOMENT!

Here's a guide to what I write, please read before requesting!

F! = Female  ||  M! = Male

(Character) x (Character) = Romantic pairing

(Character) & (Chatacter) = Platonic pairing

(Character) x Reader = Gender netural fic/for readers of all gender identities. All of my fics are gender netural unless specified otherwise!

(Character) x Reader/OC = Fic involving reader with OC characteristics.

(Fic Name)** = Fic involving smut/+18/NSFW content.

REQUESTS

• Can I make a fic/headcanon/etc. request?

Not anymore, I'm afraid! I've 7 and a half out of 16 requests done. When I finish them, perhaps I'll open them again!

I WRITE:

• What I like/what I have the most inspiration for at the time.

• (F!Character) x (F!Reader) pairings or (F!Character) fics as well, but no promises about (M!Reader), I'm sorry!

• Fluff, angst, smut, blood/gore... I mostly can write about anything. I like to write my fics realistically and pay attention to the story, but I always put detailed warnings on my fics!

I DON'T WRITE (TW!!):

• P*dophilia. Anything that involves an adult character/reader with an underage (child) character/reader unless it's platonic/parental. If I happen to write characters with age gaps, I'll keep it between adult characters – a five year age gap between 30 & 35 is not the same with 15 & 20.

• Incest. I don't know what the absolute fuck goes on in some of y'alls minds but just, fuck off. Disgusting.

Thank you for reading and understanding, my last wish is to offend any of you, so please please please let me know if I've made an error/if the things I say don't match with what I write!!

• R*pe. Reminder that non-consensual sex is just a polite word for rape. I will never ever write a scenario in any of my fics that includes rape.

VIDEO GAMES.

I. THE LAST OF US

Joel Miller

Losing My Religion Series (x F!Reader/OC): Masterlist to the series is linked to the title.

Don't Push It, Pt. 1 (x F!Reader): Based on this request.

Dont Push It, Pt. 2** (x F!Reader)

Sex headcanons** (meme)

Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanons (meme)

Romantic headcanons (meme)

Family headcanons (meme)

Kinktober Day 15** (x Reader)

Ellie

Romantic headcanons (meme)

Old age + Sleeping headcanons (meme)

Tommy Miller

Family headcanon (meme)

More works coming soon!

II. ASSASSIN'S CREED

Jacob Frye

Out of Touch (x Reader)

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor

Hello Stranger (x Reader)

Haytham Kenway

Simple Twist of Fate** (x F!Reader)

Ezio Auditore

A Small Surprise (x F!Reader): Based on this request.

III. RED DEAD REDEMPTION

Arthur Morgan

Bedroom/house/living quarters + Sex headcanons** (meme)

More coming soon/Series in progress!

Bigby Wolf

IV. THE WOLF AMONG US

Cat and... Wolf? (x Reader): Based on these requests.

Have it Your Way** (x F!Reader): Based on this request.

Bigby Having a Crush on a Co-worker Headcanons (x F!Reader): Based on this request.

V. THE WITCHER

Geralt of Rivia

Some Peace & Quiet (x F!Reader): Based on this request.

Sex Headcanons** (meme)

Kinktober Day 23** (x F!Reader)

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Kinktober Day 28** (x F!Reader)

VI. DISHONORED

Corvo Attano

Romantic headcanons (meme)

VII. UNCHARTED

Nathan Drake

Sleep + Sex headcanons** (meme)

Samuel Drake

Romantic headcanons (meme)

Sex headcanons** (meme)

VIII. DEVIL MAY CRY

Vergil

Cooking/food headcanons (meme)

IX. CALL OF DUTY

Russell Adler

Series in progress! (as of November 2022)

More works in progress for Black Ops, Modern Warfare (2019) & Modern Warfare II (2022) characters, will gladly do headcanons and one shots for other characters since I'm motivated

#x reader #masterlist #fanfiction #fanfic #assassin's creed x reader #tlou x reader #the last of us fanfiction #assassin's creed modern au #assassin's creed fanfiction #alternate universe #au #rdr x reader #joel miller #arthur morgan #pedro pascal #haytham kenway #connor kenway #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #resident evil x reader #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro pascal x reader #jill valentine x reader #resident evil imagine #video game imagines #narcos x reader

[seijch]

ANNOUNCEMENT: NOT A HELLO, BUT NOT A GOODBYE EITHER

omg hi ... im like . ashamed to come back after saying brief hiatus in october and then disappearing off the face of the earth til FEBRUARY but under the cut i will be explaining myself and the following, if youre interested (and a tl;dr at the very bottom if you don’t wanna scroll thru this obnoxiously long post):

the reason(s) i was gone for so long

what i was doing during that time (its just a personal account yall can scroll past this idrc)

the status of those um . halloween requests

the future of this account

i. so . Hiatus .

i know. i know . i probably mentioned it when i made the announcement post, but my mental health likes to go on one of those rides. yknow the ones where you go like up rlly fast then down maybe and then up then DOWN .... its like that. i needed a break and every time i wanted to come back or thought about it, something would happen and i would get stuck in my own head.

a big reason for getting stuck in my head was (and i hate to admit this ... i hate to admit that i have Insecurities On The Internet) my feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing. i love to plot fics, i love concepts and characters and making little headcanons but i dont ... know if i love writing rn. and i thought for the longest time that like . whatever ill just push thru it its fine ill be fine but it kinda wasnt lmao you can kinda see it in my halloween reqs and what become of them when i get to that but i began to feel like nothing i had put out or would put out would hold up prose wise (and normally i dont feel like this im much more “idc its my life im living it” but thats not a rant for tumblr LMAO). i still feel like that -- like im better as a reader than a writer. but . You Know :-)

tl;dr: mental state go brrrrr

ii. anywhere here’s wonderwall

when i left, i was in a steadily decreasing mental and emotional state, made worse by a situation at work that really was a case of petty jealousy on my end and rlly isnt very consequential now despite how much pain and resentment it gave me when it Was a problem so i wont get into it. the tl;dr of november and december was me using work as an crutch and distraction -- i know my job, i do it well, it helped me not think about my responsibilities and obligations and inadequacies. of course, as the holiday season grew busier n busier i was scheduled so often that i moved 88 or so miles (according to my apple watch, which i ONLY wear at work since im never anywhere else outside my house) and fell into a cycle of showering n sleeping at my house before going back the next day. (theres definitely something to be said abt capitalism and “grind culture” here but once again its not the time or place snsjkdfds)

at the turn of the new year, i happened to remember a birthday card i hadnt filed away for safekeeping from a friend of mine that id been horribly out of touch with til that point. i started crying because i realized how out of touch id been in general up until that point. the month of january was great for me: i was focused, happy, and in a much better place than i had been before. the end of it brought me down focus wise and im hoping that enough time away from my distractions will refocus me bc i ... need it LMAO and though ive burned out from that level of productivity and gotten distracted again im ... trying to stay positive which i think is the most i can do 😁👍🏼

media wise, i got real into stardew valley (but burned out bc i played it extensively as a way to wind down after work), the pokemon platinum romhack renegade platinum (still havent finished it bc of school n i played it w the intent to see if i could nuzlocke it ... bitch its so hard but its so fun bc of it), briefly assassins creed: odyssey (im one of those ppl who completes an entire region before i move to the next so you can tell i burned out of that one + wouldnt have the time to properly devote to it even if i didnt), got back into genshin impact after pulling for xiao (after not touching it for like . months), and danganronpa. yes . danganronpa 😐 i Know. i stopped playing it after the second trial of the first game bc i was so hurt by the outcome and picked it up in late january only to get sucked in (thank god i had the foresight to buy the second and third games during the steam winter sale). rn im at the start of chapter 4 if anyone wants to come in my asks and um . talk to me abt danganronpa

tl;dr: I’m Into Danganronpa Now

iii. you realize halloween was three months ago right

i mentioned this in the first section, but i love to plot things. every request is plotted or at least has a solid foundation. i had fun detailing what concept i wanted to go with considering what i was given, and there were some bangers i might touch up in the future. but heres whats going to happen to the requests themselves:

there are two finished requests. one will be posted tomorrow and the other will be touched up (just bc i finished it doesnt mean its good 🧍‍♂️) and scheduled for next saturday. as for the ones i never got around to ...

i will not be finishing those requests. i hate to be That Person, but i feel like we all expected this 🧍‍♂️ what i will do is post all of my notes for each request in batches -- requests that have an @ to go with them will be mentioned in the post proper, but anon asks will be pictured. (there are some asks that came from blogs who are now deactivated but i wrote down all the prompts and remember most of those askers so ill cross that bridge when i get there) there will most likely be an excerpt or two simply bc i think i mightve written a few plot points or interactions in the form of bullet points. i rlly am sorry about doing this but i remember looking at my notion doc with all the prompts and feeling ... like i wasnt measuring up n it wasnt just to myself or to some intangible concept of “other” id constructed but it was instead to those who requested n actually WANTED to see and hear and read my writing and i ...... im gonna admit thats another big reason i avoided this site.

regardless, youll definitely get what i have (and likely more than just my bullet points and illegible handwriting).

tl;dr: im sorry. what i have in terms of plot, concept, and interaction for every request will be posted, but i cant say ill ever complete them and mean it.

iv. so what now?

well i mean . im not entirely sure how sold i am on haikyuu in the content creation department (as a creator n to a lesser extent, as a consumer). as mentioned previously, its no longer my primary focus. it doesnt mean im not into haikyuu anymore; i have a lot of love for those boys but i cant rlly say im even caught up w recent fandom activity and also havent even finished s4 pt2 LMAO thats on my to do list

and despite all that, i still want to share my plots n concepts and snippets and maybe even fics. it wont happen anytime soon. it might not even happen. but i mean . its better than me saying i wont write ever again shjdkfs but either way ill probably use this blog as a personal blog w the occasional ask game for dialogue prompts (those are always so fun i love making up aus to fit like . the most mundane prompts)

as for my works (past and any potential future), ive opened an ao3 acc here n ill be editing n possibly expanding on my old works to post there. tumblr, to me, is The x reader hub, but i figure more x reader fics on ao3 is never a bad thing.

ill be deleting/posting drafted posts to the queue since they were all meant to be queued anyway as well as (sorry again 🧍‍♂️) deleting or answering asks in the inbox. (moots if you get a notif from me saying i rbed your post from months ago ... mind your business) im very hard to get ahold of and its ... a problem. expect an overhaul of the nav n shit to reflect my new direction n also because i feel like i cant tell if my passion for carrd is shared by the majority HSDKLFS maybe its better to read my info in a normal post ykwim .......

and of course . if youve read all this n decided im no longer worth the follow, i sure as hell cant stop you. thank you for wanting to, at some point, hear what i have to say -- it means more than you think.

tl;dr: writing will be edited and reposted to ao3, this blog will be a personal blog with a hint of writing (sometimes)

the tl;dr to end all tl;drs:

im back! i wont be as active as i used to due to a lessened interest in haikyuu in general, but i have an ao3 acc now where all my past work will be edited, possibly expanded, and reposted. any future work will also find itself there. my halloween requests will be posted in batches as incomplete concepts, plots, and snippets of scenes; i wont be promising to finish any of them.

there are still fic concepts im attached to and want to finish, but i cant promise any more writing on my end. this blog will be a personal blog with maybe writing, not a writing blog with my personal thoughts all over it.

regardless if you stick around or not, its been crazy sexy cool (equal emphasis) being on haikyuu tumblr even tho i wasnt around for long ... even tho its not my main focus anymore, im still excited to see what the future might hold 🤝

love, ari 💌

#did i have an announcement tag #announcement #also regarding work hsjkdfsd the company i work for didnt give my location the opening for the full time position i wanted #my managers all agree id be promoted if we had it but we dont so i . hee . #anyway um i hope everyones doing well #some of my moots changed urls while i was away and now i have no idea who anyone is #its like when you see your familys friends and theyre like omg youre so big now! i remember when you were a baby and youre like 🧍‍♂️ #and you have to play along bc apparently they remember you hskdfsd #im not very funny in this post but i figured id rather be honest considering my lengthy absence #consider this my comeback stage

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission for @expiredale who was lovely to work with :) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: James Kidd | Mary Read x OC 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.1k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, fingering, oral.

The tavern is a joyous place tonight. Captain Kenway and his crew upon the Jackdaw have recently come into a significant sum of wealth – stolen from the Spanish navy – and, once repairs are done and shares dealt out, what does a pirate want more than alcohol and women? 

The tavern is particularly busy with merry crewmates, many of whom have a drink in their hand and a whore on their lap who’s smiling because she knows she’s to be paid well tonight. There’s music, song, dance, cheers and (your favourite) Captain Kenway has bought a round of drinks for everyone and so the alcohol sliding down your throat is free and somehow that makes it taste all the better upon your tongue. 

But your eyes aren’t on the drinking games or the dances or the little band of musicians who have come along, no, your eyes are on Mary. Well, technically your eyes are on James as your lover is all dressed up in her masculine disguise but James and Mary have only a veil-like line to separate them in your opinion. Regardless of how your lover dresses or what they call themselves, they are the keeper of your heart and that’s all that truly matters to you. James is the rough-around-the-edges gentleman who’s swept you off your feet and no woman can get his loyalty to sway no matter how desperately she tries, fruitlessly employing every act of seduction in her attempts. Mary is your secret treasure, she’s your privilege to know, to love. She’s all yours and you endeavour to remind her of how much you appreciate being trusted enough to know her for her hidden identity. 

But the alcohol heating your throat and belly is quickly swaying your desires and you can’t tear your gaze from her rich, tanned skin, the scars on her face that you adore kissing, her lean but strong body. You love the way that it can give you a real challenge against her strength but also how you can pin her down if you really put your mind to it (or play dirty). 

James slides a little closer to you and coils his arm around your waist as he props his chin on your shoulder and flashes you a laddish grin, alcohol as much in his breath as it is yours. 

“You look bloody radiant tonight, Alice.” He bites his lip to try and quell the smile that’s stretching across his face as he reaches up to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, pausing to stroke your cheek with the backs of his calloused fingers. You smile softly at your lover’s compliment and lean in to kiss his smiling mouth. 

His deft fingers are soon tangling into the very curls that he just tucked behind your ear and your lips meld together with the sweet, warm taste of alcohol upon your tongues. You feel James’ other hand reach down and squeeze your thigh, loving how soft and pillowy it is but also strong enough that he knows (from experience) that they could easily suffocate him. Sometimes he really thinks it’s the ideal way to go out when he listens to your sweet moans and whimpers as you desperately rock your hips against your lover’s face to chase down an orgasm that’ll leave you a trembling, pliant pretty mess. 

James catches your bottom lip between his teeth and playfully tugs at it as his hand sneaks up your thigh. There are more than enough men and women making out around the tavern for anyone to even bat an eye at the two of you but that doesn’t stop the little sound of surprise that is torn from your throat when James’ hand creeps up past the height of your boots until his fingers ghost over the ties at the front of your trousers. 

You reach down to hold his hand, slowing him down but not entirely stopping him as his tongue slides against yours and he leans down over you more. Your fingers lace through his as his hand in your hair slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place so that you’re not able to pull away until he’s had his fill of your kisses. James always kisses you in such a passionate way that it feels like a first kiss after not seeing each other for so long; they’re always new and fresh and exciting in a way you can never grow tired of. 

He pulls away and casts a quick glance over his shoulder as he lets go of your hand. Everyone is either busy with their own partner, their friends or is already far too drunk to really process their surroundings. Moreover, the two of you are sitting in a sheltered little booth to the side of the tavern that the lights upon the walls and hanging from the ceiling don’t quite reach. The main source of light comes from the half-melted candle that sits in an empty rum bottle upon the table, casting a dancing, flickering glow of firelight upon the two of you. 

A cheeky grin presents itself upon your lover’s face when he realises that the conditions are seemingly perfect for what he has in mind. His eyes fix upon yours as he brings his thumb and forefinger to his mouth, licking them in a way that is most certainly intended to remind you of what that tongue is capable of. Once they are covered in a thin layer of his saliva, he reaches over the table to squeeze the wick of the candle, snuffing out the flame and casting a half-darkness over the booth you’re sitting in. 

“James, you’re not…” You bite your lip and you’re unsure whether it’s out of nervousness or anticipation. Are you against this? You’re not sure. You look around the tavern and observe the same sights that your lover did. Distracted customers and low light. Your eyes find James’ beautiful, scarred face one more – the same face that belongs to Mary. No one would notice, surely? And wouldn’t it be exciting to indulge in such pleasures while those around you remain unaware? You bite your lip and it makes James grin as he can tell you’re already fantasising about the things the two of you might be able to get away with. 

“Come on, lass.” He slides a little closer to you until your legs are pressed against each other. One of his palms presses to the seat on the other side of you, making it easy for him to lean down over you and keep you close, preventing you from shuffling away. “We probably won’t even be the only ones doing this… I can tell you want to.” He tries to convince you with another series of slow and sensual kisses. A little triumphant grin paints his face when he feels your hands curl into the collar of his coat and pull him closer. You want this but he’s going to make you need it. 

Deft fingers undo the top buttons of your shirt to expose the tawny skin of your chest. His lips map rivers across your throat and collar while calloused fingertips caress the softness of the tops of your breasts. 

“Tilt your head back for me…” He murmurs seductively and lets out a little groan of approval when you do just as instructed. “Atta girl, Alice~” You puff out a breath at his words. James’ voice has always been a weakness of yours, ever since his first words to you. He’s got a lilt that you could listen to for hours on end without a break. He speaks lowly in your ear and it’s like velvety honey wine pouring into your senses, intoxicating you with its warm burn. 

Your fingers comb through the top of his hair — mindful to not move the bandana that will reveal how long it truly is — as his lips trail down to the tender flesh of your breasts. Your line of sight breaks from him in order to skim over all the other customers of the tavern; nothing has changed. They’re all too preoccupied with their own entertainment and affairs to have noticed James and yourself. 

Sure that neither of you will be noticed, your hand cradles your lover’s head to your chest in order to encourage him to not stop. His fingers walk down over your soft belly to find the ties of your trousers once more, tugging and winding his fingers around the string in order to loosen it and pull it open. Slowly, you slide your thighs apart beneath the table in order to make room for him, to invite him. You lean back in your little seat in the booth just slightly, back leaning into the rest behind you. 

James’ lips return to your collar and then rise to that soft spot just beneath your ear where he applies an extra amount of attention, letting out pleased little hums at the taste of your skin being nipped by his teeth. His breath comes out in hot puffs against the little wet spots his tongue leaves against your sensitive flesh, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. He moans quietly in your ear as his hand finally begins to slip into your undone trousers, pausing to nibble on your earlobe and suckle softly on it for a moment before speaking in a seductive, gravelly whisper. 

“You’re going to have to stay quiet for me now, alright?” You reply with a nod of your head and he kisses your cheek once. His fingers glide down, avoiding your clit for now and delve between your folds that are already becoming puffy with arousal. “Oh, Alice, so wet for me already.” He muses and you can tell that he knows all too well of the effect his voice is having on you. 

He thoroughly wets the pads of his fingers in your sticky arousal and drags it through your slit, covering you with it. He lets out a low little chuckle when your body gives a little jolt at the sudden pleasure of his fingers smearing your wetness over your clit and then pushing down with just the right amount of pressure. “Be still now, we don’t want people to see, do we?” He says with an abundance of amusement in his voice.

“N-no…” You agree and steal a glance around the tavern again. Everyone is still too busy doing their own thing to have noticed that James’ hand is now down the front of your pants and his fingers are rubbing little stars into your sensitive clit, smearing your sticky wetness over it so that his skin can slide sticky against yours to bring you pleasure. 

James keeps an eye out for your body language, your reactions that tell him what’s going through both your body and your head. Your one hand is gripping onto James’ leg while the other has curled into a fist on the table, nails biting into your palm as you breathe heavily through your nose, teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your lower lip in order to make it easier to muffle all of your noises. 

You suck in a hissed breath through those teeth when James’ fingers slide downwards and prod exploringly at your hole before slowly pushing just the tip of his finger in and then back out again; in and out, in and out. He does this over and over until a needy little whine bubbles out of your throat. That’s exactly what James had been waiting for and he then sinks the entirety of his finger into your warm, wet entrance. He delights in the shaky little sigh of relief you let out when you believe he is finished with his teasing. But he has misled you because he soon withdraws his middle finger entirely and instead slips his ring finger into you and then pulls it all the way out again. 

You tug a little at his clothes in protest of the way he’s teasing you with touches that just aren’t long enough to bring you real pleasure, instead giving you a small sample of what is to come though you know not for how long you will be made to wait for the real thing. Though, this is exactly the reaction he wanted from you and now that he’s got it, he sinks both fingers into your needy pussy. You lean forwards to rest your forehead on his shoulder, wanting to hide your pleasured expression and the way your breath is now coming out in puffed little pants from anyone who might look your way and suspect that something inappropriate is taking place between the couple sat in the dim little booth off at the side of the tavern. 

“Keep your head up now, Alice.” James’ voice drawls out by your ear as you sink your teeth into your trembling bottom lip in a desperate attempt to not let any lewd sound spill from your mouth. He nudges your forehead a little with his shoulder but you get let out the quietest little whine, not yet feeling composed enough to raise your head. Your lover lets out an exaggerated sigh that’s thick with the melody of disappointment mere moments before you feel his fingers glide all the way out of your walls that are squeezing down around them. A sharp gasp is torn from your throat and you suddenly sit upright, spine straight and trying to casually lean your head back against the backrest of the booth seat.

You grit your teeth in an attempt to try and collect yourself, to make it seem like nothing is amiss between the two of you. The thought that you might get caught excited you, yes, but you had a deep feeling in your gut that you would be completely and utterly mortified if anyone found out that James was working on bringing you to orgasm in such a public place. 

At your sudden obedience to follow his instructions and act casually to avoid rousing any suspicion, James rewards you by burying his fingers into you once more but this time he curls them upwards to press into that particularly soft spot that has your toes curling in your boots and your spine arching just a little more. You swallow thickly and do your utmost to contain all the noises that you want to let out in order to spur him on. 

James begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling them up to press and glide over that sweet spot of yours simultaneously. Your walls begin to pulse and squeeze around him as you approach your orgasm and you almost let out a cry of protest when all of a sudden, he withdraws from you completely. 

He holds his hand up like it’s some fine prize, spreading his fingers apart to watch your wetness sticklily stretch between them like the tracks of a spider’s web. His tongue curls between his fingers to lap it all up while his hazel eyes remain fixed upon your own dark ones as he laps his hand clean of your arousal. You feel hypnotised as you watch the little erotic spectacle that he’s putting on for you. You open your mouth to protest that he just stopped right when-

“Not here.” He says, already knowing what you’re about to say. “I want to hear you calling out my name when you cum.” He leans forwards and presses his scarred lips to yours, giving you a taste of yourself upon them. While he’s leaned in, he comes even closer so that his cheek brushes against yours and his breath tickles your ear. “My real name.” 

You’re left to tie up your bottoms again as James stands up and leaves the table to start saying his goodbyes to all of his friends and acquaintances. You shuffle your way out of the booth and stand on your feet as you watch him go around and say his goodbyes. You walk across the floor to join him, dodging around customers and tables. You can feel the stickiness of your panties sliding against your puffy pussy – a reminder of the orgasm that was just torn from your grasp – with every step you take. You hold onto James’ arm to join him as the two of you politely say goodbye and then head out in order to return to the inn that you’ve rented for the night. 

The moment that the door shuts behind the two of you and you’ve slid the bolt across to lock it, James is shrugging off his coat and letting her hair down from the bandanna that’s been tying it up. You watch as she crosses the room to briefly check that her hair isn’t too messy before she picks up a tube of red lipstick which she paints onto her mouth and blends out with her thumb in order to give her lips a brightly blushing tint. She casts a glance at you over the mirror as she sits upon the little stool that’s in front of the vanity with its mirror that’s cracked on one side. 

You look upon Mary who has the same face as James and you just soak in the sight for a few moments that seem to stretch on for millennia. So few people in the world know that this incredible woman who is sitting in front of you exists. You are one of the lucky individuals who is privileged enough to meet her and blessed by some divine being to be able to love her. 

You’re broken out of your little trance when she raises her hand and beckons you over with the very fingers that were inside of you no less than ten minutes ago. You walk up to her as she spreads her legs to make room for you, her hands landing on your soft hips and then roaming downwards to squeeze your thighs. They’re deceivingly soft but she knows that there’s a layer of muscle beneath that’s far more powerful than you look for your short stature, your head only just reaching beneath Mary’s chin when you stand side-by-side. Her hands begin to push you downwards until you’re kneeling at her feet and her fingers comb gently through the voluminous curls of your hair, her fingers dancing upon the curve of your cheek for a moment before she starts to toe off her boots as she leans down to kiss you, fingertips brushing just beneath your chin and tickling you slightly. 

Her hands glide over your throat to your collar, skimming down your arms until she’s taking your hands into hers and guiding them to her belt. “You’re going to earn what you missed out on earlier, aren’t you?” She murmurs thickly, her voice pouring into your ears like molten gold. Entranced by your love for her, you nod your head as you begin stripping down her lower half. She pets your head in a praising manner, encouraging and rewarding you silently. 

You could swear that she’s a siren. Her voice simultaneously dulls your senses and electrifies them all at once and she knows it. She enchants you with her words, enraptures you with her hushed and seductive tones. Her voice holds more power over you than any blade and she’s all too aware of it. 

You tug off the final layer of the clothing on her lower half that acts like a barrier between you and her pussy that you’re more than eager to bury your face into in order to truly start off your night together. But first, you glance up at her, waiting for her approval. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, smoothing over those curls of yours that she loves so much, and she gives a single nod of her head as she parts her legs a little more and leans back on the stool so that her back bumps against the edge of the vanity table and her cunt is brought closer to the end of the stool, granting you easier access. 

You lean forwards and dive in, burrowing your tongue straight into her glistening entrance and moaning softly at the taste of her. You push your face even closer to her when you start smothering her puffy slit in kisses and giving little kitten licks right up through her slit until you reach her clit. You press your tongue against it with a little more pressure, rolling over it a few times before you part your lips a little more. Drool spills from your mouth and onto her pussy in the few moments before you wrap your lips around her clit and suckle down; softly at first and then with more intensity as you hear Mary suck in hissed breaths and groan above you. 

You feel her hands comb gently through your thick hair, pulling it all back away from your face in order to keep it out of your way. Her other hand stays put on the back of your neck and her nails scratch over your nape just slightly. It’s enough to send fierce waves of pleasure down your spine and you lift up one of her thighs to place over your shoulder. It’s easier to hold her open like this and you just adore feeling the warmth of her inner thigh pressed to your ear and cheek. You moan around her clit in order for her to feel the vibrations of it through such a sensitive part of her and you feel the way her body gives a little jolt in response, hips pushing towards you as her leg jostles on your shoulder and the hand upon the back of your neck pulls you even closer. 

You don’t shy away from making lewd noises with your tongue as you lick at her. Your mouth slides down a little so that your nose now nudges at her clit while your tongue slides in and out of her hole, lapping up all of her essence and letting her hear the scandalous slurping noises you make as you try to taste as much of it as possible. You adore being between Mary’s legs like this and getting to hear that voice you love so much hiss and groan and sigh out your name, words of praise to spur you on. You reach back with your free hand in order to encourage her fingers in your hair to tangle and tug just enough to show you just how good she’s feeling. Once she follows your silent plea, you then bring that hand back down as your mouth returns to drooling all over her clit so that you can easily slide two fingers into her pussy. You moan quietly against her sensitive bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure through her, at the sensation of just how soft and warm she is filling you with delight. 

You’re more than sure that your panties are utterly ruined by now and your wet patch might even be showing through your pants but you can’t find the space in your head to care about those things when Mary’s other thigh comes to rest upon your other shoulder and you feel her calves cross behind you. The heels of her feet dig into your lower back as her fingers tug more insistently at your hair and her hips keen towards you as her back arches, rising up from where she had been leaning upon the edge of the vanity. 

You want to toss her straight to the throes of pleasure and so you waste no time in curling your fingers up to press down on that sensitive, spongy spot inside of her while thrusting in and out at such a rapid pace that you know you wouldn’t be able to keep it up if she weren’t already so close to cumming. 

You hear her pant and moan out your name as she pushes your face into her pussy, rocking her hips against you and using you as she loses herself in the intensity of the orgasm that you give her. Her lips then press together as she breathes in a heavy staccato through her nose and lets out a long groan of your name. There’s a slight quiver in her thighs just before she lets you go. She cups your face in her hands to tilt your head up, seeing how the lower half of your visage glistens with her wetness and cum. Without hesitation, she swoops down to kiss you, tongue gliding messily and passionately against yours, unfazed by the taste of herself upon you. She pulls away and bites her lip as she looks down upon you, seemingly drinking in the sight of you, a laddish smirk tugging at her smeared and red-painted lips. 

“Oh, the things I plan on doing to you, my lass…” 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not : ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@writing-noah @firagirl @loopycorn1123

#mary read x reader #mary x reader #mary #mary read #mary read x fem reader #mary read x female reader #james kidd x reader #james x reader #james #james kidd #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed IV #assassins creed IV x reader #assassins creed black flag #assassins creed black flag x reader #mary read x reader smut #mary x reader smut #mary smut #mary read smut #assassins creed x reader smut #mary read x fem reader smut #mary read x female reader smut #james kidd x reader smut #james kidd x reader smut #james kidd smut #james kidd smut

[author-morgan]

Title: Feathered Confessions Rating: G Pairing: m!Eivor x fem!Reader Summary: Eivor knows he made a mistake and now he must suffer for it. Or in which Eivor, drunk, talks to some chickens. Here you go @mrsragnarlodbrok, signed, sealed, delivered, as promised like 6 months ago.

THE END OF summer lingers in the air of Ravensthorpe as a chill on the wind. Once green leaves and grass have begun shifting to warm earthen hues of gold, red, and orange. It seems a lifetime ago when your father sat you upon his knee and explained why it is autumn, he loved best. Spring is too full of life, and in the summer months they are too strong and won’t let go —he motions to the changing leaves— autumn's the time, little one, in autumn everything is tired and ready to die, this is the time to root things up, so they won’t come back to trouble you.

Treading back up to the longhouse after helping Tekla and Tarben, you fetch a woolen cloak, tying it off beneath your chin —it will ward off the chill in the air while flying through the Mercian countryside on horseback. You glimpse Randvi and halt, path turning to the map room. She stands looking over the alliance map. There are still lands to the north and east where the Raven Clan may yet find friends. “Randvi?” She lifts her gaze. “There’s an apple orchard not far” —you gesture over your shoulder to the west— “would you like to ride with me?” You ask. “Just for the afternoon before the feast.”

“I would,” she answers, smiling at the notion of your thought to ask, and then her smile falters, “but I thought you would be with Eivor since he’s leaving for Vinland in the morn.” You’re certain you haven’t heard her correctly when she says Vinland, yet there is no indication of jest on her stern expression. You swallow the rising lump in your thought, feeling your ears burn hot and your face twist with anger. Why would he keep this from me? Randvi’s face falls, her lips parting at the realization. “He didn’t tell you?”

NOT EVEN THE High One himself could have avoided your wrath when you storm from the longhouse, marching to the northern extent of the riverbank in Ravensthorpe —the thought of a peaceful afternoon picking apples is long gone, replaced by frustration and something akin to betrayal. It’s where you last saw him fishing to help little Arth earn a few pieces of silver and begin stocking enough meat to pickle and cure for the winter months.

Eivor unhooks another trout from his line, dropping the wriggling fish into a basket at his side, doing his best to keep Sýnin from making off with too much of his catch. He doesn’t see you approaching, but the hairs on the back of his neck bristle —as though he can already feel your heated stare upon him. You call to him, hands turning to fists at your side. Eivor Wolfsmal turns, still smiling —delightfully ignorant to your incoming wrath.

“What is it, my love?” He queries, setting aside his fishing line and shifting as though to take you into his arms in greeting. His expression sours when he beholds you, standing with your arms crossed, the first signs of tears gathering in your eyes. Eivor steps to you, his brows furrowing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re leaving?” You inquire, fighting to keep the tremble of anger and despair from your voice. Eivor was never one to keep secrets, not from you, and even if he tried, you could almost always pry the truth from him. To be left in the dark about his decision to undertake such a long and perilous voyage hurts in a way you had not thought possible.

He grips onto your arms, thumbs rubbing circles through the coarse wool sleeves of your dress. “I was going to tell you after the feast,” Eivor explains, guilt already seeping into his tone. You worry about him too much as it is —he did not wish to add to those woes with the change of the seasons. Though now he knows his intentions, while good, were misguided.

“Why wait that long when you told Randvi?” It’s difficult not to sound bitter. Difficult to understand why he would disclose his plans to her and Sigurd, but not you. “Am I not your wife?” Your voice cracks, and you quickly blink away the dampness gathering in your eyes. Eivor’s stomach churns at seeing your distress and knowing he is the cause of it. “Do I not deserve to know when my husband will come and go?” He looks away, drawing in a slow breath. “Eivor” —you lift your hand to his scarred cheek, pulling his gaze back to you— “it no small journey to Vinland. You’ll be gone for months.”

“Yes,” he concedes —the journey will be longer than any other and riddled with dangers, of that he has no doubts, but the gods favor him, and he does not believe he will founder on this quest. It is never an easy thing to leave behind his home, his people, or his wife, whether it be for a week or several moons. Vinland calls to him for a good reason, though, after the information Hytham found about the Order of Ancients and their far reaches —spanning across the western sea and to the deserts of the east. “Gorm–”

The name is one you had not wished to hear spoken again for the rest of your days. “I thought we had left this in the past,” you cut him off. Eivor claims to have had his thirst for vengeance and justice quenched after killing Kjotve the Cruel and seeing King Harald banish his son. But if his intent is to chase Gorm Kjotvesson and the Order of Ancients across the western sea, you know his claim is untrue.

“Why must you chase this quarrel?” Eivor does not respond, his eyes clouded and distant —like a storm swelling on the horizon, he steps back, letting your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. His mind is set —this much you know. “Why couldn’t you have told me?” You ask, shaking your head with a nigh pained smile. “I could have prepared a sacrifice to Thor or–”

“I must do this,” Eivor tells you, slowly stepping away until he turns, retreating into the tree line with Sýnin on his shoulder.

HYTHAM OFFERS YOU a cup of mead, sitting across from you at the feast, noting your sour mood. You look to Sigurd and Randvi, finding them deep in conversation —another glance around the longhouse, and you are certain Eivor is not there. His absence leaves a hollow feeling in your chest and a sinking one in your gut. It is not like him to miss the chance to indulge in food and drink. “Have you seen Eivor?”

The young assassin shakes his head, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes. “Not since this morning,” Hytham tells you. “What’s happened?” He asks, unsure if he should have a reason to be concerned for his friend’s absence from the festivities.

“A disagreement is all,” you answer with a sigh. Your and Eivor’s marriage is a good one, but even so, it is not without disagreements and small arguments —only now it does not feel right to be so upset with one another in the hours before his departure.

The longhouse quietens at the loud squawk of a raven. Sýnin is in the rafters above, strutting back and forth on one of the great wooden beams above where you sit. The raven wants your attention. You turn your gaze upward and watch as he drops down, perching on your shoulder —hopping from foot to foot. “Sýnin,” you greet, reaching to scritch the dark feathers on his belly, his croak akin to a low gurgling purr. “What is it?” You ask with a sigh, meeting Sýnin’s dark, beady eyes —his head tilts to the side, and then he pecks at your temple and pulls, hard, on a small braid half-hanging in front of your face. “Okay, okay,” you laugh, shooing the raven off your shoulder and onto the edge of the table, “I’ll follow.”

Incoherent mumbling coming from the poultry yard stops you in your tracks. Feeling your chest tighten, you draw closer, not making a sound as you come upon the split-rail fence where chickens and quails run about, pecking the hulls of grain and plucking worms from the soft earth.

Sitting amongst them is Eivor, a chicken perched on each knee and one on his shoulder, a pitcher of mead in hand. “I messed up, didn’t I?” He asks, despair lacing his tone as he leans back against one of the fence posts. You glance at Sýnin, sitting on your shoulder —the raven is oddly silent and taking his cue, you stand within earshot, listening and being reminded why you married Eivor Wolfsmal what feels like a lifetime ago.

“I just,” Eivor hiccups, taking another drink, “I didn’t want her to worry.” One of the chickens hops from his knee, clucking, and the other stares at him blankly, head tilting to the side. “Is that so wrong?” He wonders aloud, hanging his head low. “She worries enough about the settlement already without worrying over me,” he sighs. You press your knuckles against your lips, heart twisting.

You always worried for your husband, even if you tried not to show it to keep a veneer of strength —never really knowing if a kiss or embrace could be the last when he marches off across England. “I love her,” he says, staring at the clucking hen sitting on his bent knee. “She’s perfect, you know?” The chicken clucks at him, pecking the threads of a patch on his britches. “I don’t think I really deserve her.” It’s almost a whisper.

There’s a moment’s pause, you almost step forward to say something, but then he speaks to the chicken again. “Have you ever been in love?” He asks, running a hand over his face and through his close-cropped golden beard. The chicken tilts its head to one side, then the other, clucking once. Eivor takes the hen’s answer as a no. “It’s the most wonderful and infuriating feeling, but worth it.” He laughs, brushing his fingers over the chicken’s feathers —Sýnin croaks softly, voicing his displeasure. “By the gods, it’s worth it.”

Eivor empties the pitcher of mead, setting it aside, and reaches to pick up the hen still sitting on his shoulder. “What do I do now?” He asks, holding the bird at eye level, as though if he stares hard enough, he’ll find the answer to his question.

“You could start by putting the poor chicken down,” you remark, fighting to hide a smile.

He startles, turning back to look where you stand, and frees the chicken he’s holding, shooing the other from his knee as he rises, stumbling a little. “How long have you been there?” Eivor asks, brow raised, blue eyes clear but glassy from the drink.

“Long enough,” you tell him. Sýnin croaks his agreement then takes to a starless sky. You both watch as the raven disappears against the backdrop of the night. He reaches out —silent— and takes your hands, unable to lift his gaze to meet yours. “Eivor?” You breathe, stepping closer to him.

Rough thumbs run across your knuckles, and Eivor draws in a deep breath. “Can you forgive me?” He asks, his voice strained and heavy with love and guilt. Rising onto the balls of your feet, you press your lips against his in answer —feeling him smile as he leans into you, hands moving from yours to hold onto your waist. You feel the muscles in his chest tense when you settle your hands there for a moment before sliding them up and over his shoulders, fingers locking together at the nape of his neck.

You draw back from him, thumb stroking over the patch of mottled skin on his neck —half-hidden behind his unbound and messy golden hair. “You’re already forgiven, my love,” you assure him, unable to remain upset, especially with his departure planned for the morning. His lips kink into a wider smile, and he bends down again, stealing another, slower, sweeter kiss. “Now come, chicken whisperer,” you laugh, parting, fingers ghosting along the scar on his cheek and through his beard, “let’s get you to bed.”

The longhouse is quiet. Many have already returned to their beds for the night, while others are slumped over on the tables, snoring. Eivor waits for Sýnin to settle on his perch and for Dwolfg to settle in at the foot of your shared bed before heaving the great doors shut.

When he turns, you have already stripped your daily clothes and replaced the dress with a threadbare linen shift and are sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing over the patchwork of fur pelts and woolen blankets. Tugging off his tunic and boots, Eivor crawls next to you, arms seizing your waist and pulling you into his chest.

Eivor reaches for a blanket, covering the two of you, and he is quick to pull you back to him —committing the feel of your warmth next to him and the sweet lavender and apple scent of your hair tickling his nose to memory. Comforting thoughts to keep him company on cold and lonely nights. You trace the blue-black ink of one of the runes tattooed on his breast before placing a tender kiss there and relaxing into his arms. “I always come home,” he reminds you. “You know that.”

“I do,” you tell him, pressing yourself closer to him, knowing this is the last night you will sleep soundly until Eivor is back and in your arm again, where he belongs. But all the while, you will pray to the gods for safe travels, gentle seas, and your husband’s quick return, as all good wives do.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @pats-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing #its been a hot minute since ive written for u mister blondie

[the-house-of-auditore-frye]

ATTENTION MUTUALS/FOLLOWERS: I will be spamming your dashboard with Charles Vane from AC4 pretty soon so in adavnce, I'm sorry about that... But not sorry enough to not spam you 😘

#charles vane #Charles Vane AC4 #charles vane x reader #ac4 #ac4 black flag #assassin's creed #assassin's creed black flag #assassin's creed iv black flag #assassin's creed 4 #Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag

[thefloorisbalaclava]

A Long and Happy Life - Edward Kenway x Reader

A/N: A little something for the Captain of my heart, Edward Kenway on his birthday!

Words: 2,082 Warnings: A little bit of Eddie feeling sorry for himself but other than that it’s pretty fluffy

Tagging @sushitr-sh and @princessnanaxlaxus!

He was standing, hunched over a table with maps and charts scattered all over when the men first brought you to him.

“Found this one trying to sneak onboard, Captain,” the man holding your arm says.

“Then throw him overboard and stop wasting my time,” the Captain responds rather agitatedly, smoothing back his blond hair without looking up.

“We thought you’d like to…search this one yourself,” another man says, a sinister smile on his face.

“What are you on about?” The Captain asks finally looking up from whatever was frustrating him looking as if he was ready to kill everyone in there…until he laid eyes on you. “Is this some kind of joke, men? Trying to get a rise out of me today out of all days?”

“No, sir, not at all. We really did catch her climbing onboard while we were loading up the cargo. We just thought maybe you’d want to have a little fun before we got rid of her.” The man squeezes your arm tighter at this and you wince.

“What were you trying to do, lass?” He looks you up and down with the bluest eyes you had ever seen.

“I was…I was trying to hide,” you admit sounding smaller than you wanted to.

“Hide? From who?” He looks at you but you look away then down, ashamed. “Men, leave us,” the Captain commands then you two are alone. “Well?”

“M-my husband.” You flinch when Edward takes a step towards you; you were sure he was going to kill you. “I’ll leave right now just please don’t kill me. I know it was stupid of me to try and sneak onto a pirate ship but…”

He chuckles, “I’m not going to kill you especially since I don’t even know your name, your story.”

You tell him your name still unable to look him in the eye. “And you, Captain? What is your name?”

“Why do you need to know?” he asks, grinning playfully trying to lighten the mood.

You finally look him in the eye, “So I can thank you properly, Captain…?”

“Kenway. Edward Kenway.”

“Well, I thank you Captain Edward Kenway. I’ll be on my way now.” You turn to leave but a gentle grip on your arm stops you.

“Before you go, I want to know your story. Why are you hiding from your husband?” He looks at you with something akin to concern on his face but could you trust this man – this pirate?

“I don’t love him,” you blurt out, “…and he doesn’t love me. He just wants to own me. All I am to him is property and I don’t want to be treated like that anymore.”

“So you sneak onto a pirate ship?” He crosses his arm over his chest and tilts his head. When he put it that way, it sounded silly.

“Well, I knew he wouldn’t find me here. He would be too afraid to follow me. He is a coward!” you say angrily and Edward’s eyes widen.

“What if it was someone else’s ship you snuck onto? Not all Captains are as…lenient as I am.”

“But I didn’t. I snuck onto your ship, Captain Kenway. Am I safe here?”

“Of course you are, lass, but I’m afraid we don’t have much to offer you – some food, a place to lay your head, that’s about it. The Jackdaw will be docked here for a few days. You’re welcome to stay as long as we’re here…” He wanted to continue but you could tell he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’ll figure out where to go after, sir. You don’t have to worry about me,” you say with a small smile, turning and walking to the doors that take you on deck.

“Aye, but you see now that I know you and your story, I can’t help but to worry.” His words stop you in your tracks and you turn to him.

“Do you really know me that well already?”

“I know enough to care.”

You nod. “By the way, that ship you’re looking for is docked off the coast of Havana,” you jut your chin towards his table. “Will be there for a few weeks…” You leave him with a look of astonishment and wonder on his face.

You were introduced to a kind man named Adéwalé who showed you were you would be sleeping and told you that he would be keeping an eye on you and the other men to make sure you were not bothered.

A little while later, the Captain emerged from is quarters and the men greeted him excitedly.

“In a few days’ time, we will be sailing for Havana. I received some reliable intel…,” at this he looked at you and nodded, “…that that’s where we’ll find what we’re looking for. Until then, enjoy yourselves!” The man cheer and laugh, “But not too much, lads!” The men laugh even louder at that.

You were putting yourself to good use, scrubbing down the deck when the Captain made his way over to you. You stand quickly, smoothing down your clothes, “I just thought I’d earn my keep around here. I thank you again for your kindness, sir.”

“It’s Edward and you don’t have to thank me – you definitely don’t need to be scrubbing the deck…you’re a guest.” You expect him to walk away after that but he pulls you to the side and moves close to you. “How did you know about the ship?”

“My husband is a high-ranking officer in the Navy, I hear a lot from him.” Edward’s eyes widen at this and you shrug. “That is one benefit of my marriage I guess.” You look around before looking at Edward again, “May I ask you something?”

“Of course, I won’t promise any answers though.” He smiles and you can’t help but smile back.

“What’s it about today that’s got you all worked up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when the men brought me in you asked them if they were trying to get a rise of you today out of all days. What’s so special or upsetting about today?” you ask.

He looks at you for a long time. “You’re perceptive, aren’t you?” You shrug again. “Sorry to let you down but there isn’t anything special about today, lass. I was just getting frustrated about finding the ship and all.” He clears his throat and you can tell there’s more but you weren’t getting it out of him right now.

“What would you like me to do? I’m sure you’re not letting me stay here for nothing. You’re a pirate after all,” you joke but when you see the look on his face you wish you can take it back.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asks, his forehead wrinkling.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…upset you.”

His face softens and he sighs, “You’re forgiven. If you need anything just let me know.” He nods and walks away. You hope he’s not as upset as you think he is.

You wrack your brain all night about what could be bothering the Captain besides the fact that you made a joke in bad taste. There was something other than ships on his mind but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

Knocking on his doors gently, you’re met with a gruff ‘Yes?’ and enter warily.

“What is it?” he asks without even looking at you.

“I wanted to apologize again for the slight earlier. It was in bad taste and I’ve no right to say such things especially when you’re upset about other things.” You wring your hands nervously which is only made worse when his eyes find yours.

“You really think I’m upset about that? Lass, I’ve got more pressing matters to worry about first and foremost what I’m going to do with you when I leave in two days.” His words are a bit slurred and you spot the open bottle of rum on his table.

“I’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about you. Are you sure you’re okay, sir?”

“Please, stop calling me sir. You make me feel older than I am. My name is Edward. Just Edward.” He closes his eyes for a moment then focuses on you again. “I just wonder…what’s going to happen to her when I leave this life behind? You know, I can’t live this way forever…”

Why was he telling you this? And by her did he mean his ship?

“I’m sure your ship will be fine if you leave her in the right hands. Your quartermaster seems a perfect man for the job.”

“I don’t like thinking about it – the future. It frightens me. Here I am, finding treasures far and wide with nothing to show for it. Do I look happy to you?” He slaps his hands down at his sides. “No, right? Well, I should be. I believed that all this would make me happy.” He looked miserable and it made you feel sorry for him but that wasn’t what he needed right now.

“Looks to me like you still have all the time in the world, Edward.” You flash him a smile and you swear you see his cheeks turn pink. “Maybe there’s a different kind of treasure you should be looking for to make you happy.”

He sighs and sits down heavily with a groan. “I just need this day to be over. I need to be out at sea again. I need…happiness.”

“And you’ll find it. You’re a good man and you deserve to be happy.” You walk over and pick up the now half empty bottle of rum. “Here’s to you, Captain Edward Kenway.” You lift the bottle in the air then drink, enjoying the slight burn and sweet taste of the rum.

He takes the bottle from you and drinks without toasting. “Aye, here’s to me…a sorry excuse for a Captain.”

“Your crew seems to like you well enough and I’ve taken a shining to you as well,” you admit blushing slightly.

“Have you? And what would your husband think of that?” he jokes.

You shrug, “Who cares? He’s probably forgotten me already and it hasn’t even been a day.” You laugh and he watches you, his face lighting up. When you catch your breath again, you place a hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye. “I know how you feel, really I do but things will get better and you will be happy. I know it.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just am. Now drink up, Captain, and be merry.” You shake him then turn and walk to the doors.

“Thank you,” he says and you stop.

“For what?”

“For listening to me ramble on. For talking to me. I can’t do those things with the crew so…thank you. I may have to keep you around.”

“You enjoy talking to me that much?”

“Aye and maybe I just enjoy you.” The rum had to be getting to him now; he was talking nonsense.

“Captain, you hardly know me,” you say trying to hide the goofy smile on your face.

“First impression is the best, they say and you’ve made quite the impression on me.” You expected a pirate Captain to be harsh and uncaring but Edward was proving you wrong with every word.

“I could say the same about you,” you say before walking to the doors again.

“Think about it, will you? Staying on and seeing how to you take to a life at sea. I could use someone like you,” he confesses. “Maybe you can help me find that happiness I’ve been searching for.”

“I’ll think about it, Captain.” You reach the doors and look back at him once more. You had finally figured out what had been bothering him and though it may seem silly to some, you completely understood his predicament. “Happy birthday, Edward,” you say quietly hoping it didn’t upset him. “You still have a long life ahead of you.”

He shakes his head, smiling, probably wondering how in the hell you figured it out. “A long life full of happiness, you reckon?”

“Oh, I know it.”

With those few words, you had given him the happiest birthday he’s had in a very long time. You left him with a smile on his face and a bottle of rum…and butterflies in his stomach. You left him feeling something he hadn’t felt since his first love – hopeful and happy.

Even pirates deserved that.

#edward kenway #edward kenway x reader #assassin's creed #assassin's creed iv: black flag #ac4 black flag #fanfic #mine #headcanon

[kaitlynpcallmebeepme]

I’ll Fight For You

I’ll Fight For You

Peter Parker x Reader 

Warnings:  Fight scene, explosions, hurt descriptions, starving self, swearing I think, nursing organ facts (tell me if you think of any more), fluff, and a hint of angst

A/N: This is the work I have for @keepingupwiththeparkers for her 4,000 follower writing challenge. 

#kuwtp4kwc

Thinking about making an origin story for Gargoyle. The good title I thought of I want to save for my series. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Requests are open and Messages are open if you want to chat. The gifs came from google, so credit goes to the person who made them. I don’t own Gargoyles the show either.

Background: Only slight endgame spoilers for this description. In my world, Carol snapped the gauntlet to kill Thanos and made it through the time machine, but left the mind and time stone so they could bring Vision back and returned the soul stone to save Natasha, and Steve didn't go back in time. Avengers Tower was bought back until the compound could be rebuilt and remained as a kind of a base since Queens is closer to the tower than the compound.

Tag list: Send me an ask if you want to be added. 

@trashinaglass and @peter-pan-hoe ♡

Dialogue prompt:

8. “I thought I’d lost you”

Word count: 1,860

The intel was terrible at best. When have you ever heard of a hydra agent defecting.  That didn't matter anymore. What mattered is that your team, the Avengers, got the intel about chemical weapons Hydra was developing and get out of the base as quickly as possible. 

Taking revenge on the people who tortured you is one of the sweetest things ever. You were Y/n. Last name you never knew. Part of a species of bat-human hybrids that you were the sole survivor of, thanks to hydra of course. Mainly a human body with slightly pointed ears, retractable claws, an echolocation trackability, better hearing, sharp teeth, bat-shaped wings protruding from your back, skin that can turn to stone, and slight healing powers, which were amplified if you turned completely to stone for some time. You took the name Gargoyle after Peter showed you The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was his job to catch you, Steve, and Bucky up on all of the pop culture stuff you missed.

You and Peter had the bottom floor almost cleared with the task of searching for hostages. You liked the curly-haired nerd. You two were around the same age when the Avengers raided the Hydra base you were kept captive in. He was the one to hoist your bloody body over his shoulders and carry you out of there. You both valued stealth and sticking to ceilings. You both often trained together and we're interested in both of your talents, yours of which was blacksmithing and Anatomy. You both tested your powers to see how far you could push each other and discover what your limits were. Peter could spend an hour upside-down before he started to feel fatigued and your healing ability worked better if you have a lot of what was hurt. For example, a kidney would heal a lot faster than a heart because there are two kidneys and one heart. 

Okay, back to the mission. No hostages or test subjects have been found as you and Peter kept making your way around your floor. It was mainly storage rooms with few people in the hallways. Not as exciting for you, but you didn't want to go into a room where you two couldn't handle what was inside.

You and Peter got on the ceiling in front of the last room you had to check off your floor. When all of a sudden the door burst open on its own and the air was filled with bullets. Two big guys with miniguns. TWO?!?! Normally it would be one and a lot of smaller henchmen covering him. You looked at Peter for some silent sign of a game plan. He drew a 'Z' with his fingers and pointed to his web shooter. Then made the cracking fist motion with his hands. You nodded and made a silent prayer that this worked because you hated having to play fair when taking out minigunners. Peter shot the two guys with taser webs, which brought them both to the floor. You two then dropped down and started going ham on betting these two up. You just hit the back of their head until their occipital lobe knocked out their vision. Fury would be by later to arrest everyone, but you wanted to make sure they stayed down. You cut up their arms and legs a bit just so it would make it difficult for any of the men to escape. You disarmed the miniguns and Peter webbed down the guys as best as he could. 

"Wonder what they were guarding?" 

"I don't know Gargoyle, but we better be careful."

You gently pushed the door open revealing a planning room covered in blueprints. Some were for cannons and others were for what looked like experiments. Turning humans into other creatures, which in turn would be used for Hydra. 

"Make sure to have Karen scan all these."

Before you could analyze the plans in front of you, you were knocked to the ground. Your body went into full fight mode preparing to stab whoever tackled you. Good thing your mind caught up to your instincts and realized it was Peter who was on top of you. Your senses were thrown off as all you could hear was bullet shells hitting the ground and an AK-47 going on full blast. You extended your arm and hit a button to make a small sharp disc fly out from above your wrist. The disk shot under the table and took the last man standing down. You kicked the gun away and gave the guy a few scars with your Assassin's Creed wrist knives. 

It was only then when you realized that Peter didn't get up. He was groaning in the middle of the floor where you left him.  He was on his side, but you could see the number of bullets in his left side. You turned Peter over and realized he's bleeding a lot faster than he should be. 

"Hit near the pancreas and spleen. Shit." If there was one thing you remembered from all your time studying Anatomy, it was those two organs have a lot of blood going through them. "Nonononono. Kid, you gotta stay with me. You gotta stay awake." You hit his face a bit to keep him conscious. 

You didn't want to move him because that could make it worse and you were definitely not qualified to remove bullets on a battlefield from an advanced human. So you did the next best thing. You held the button on your earpiece. "Code Blue. Underoos's been hit. I repeat. Code Blue. Underoos's been hit." 

"What? Where are you guys?" Tony's panicked voice wasn't helping your demeanor.

"Basement; in a room full of blue-." Your eyes grew wide for a split second as you saw the guy who shot Peter with a grenade in his hand and his thumb in the ring.

"Hail Hydra." 

You didn't have time to think. You scooped up Peter and ran as fast as you could before the pin could be pulled. You both barely made it to the doorway before the whole room exploded. You wings protected the two of you from most of the flames, didn't mean it didn't hurt. 

"Kids, you ok?" There came the Dad voice from Clint again. Clint, you liked to call the perfect mix of sass and fatherly advise.

You slowly lifted your wings but kept them up to keep the rubble dust out of your eyes. You looked over at Peter who you could tell was still losing consciousness. "We're fine. The basement's clear. I can run him back to the quinjet and rush him to the medbay of you guys can meet me there." 

"We're done here. Everyone meet at the jet and we're rushing the kid back. Do you need cover?" Natasha was one of the few people to keep Tony's mind straight besides Pepper.

"No. I can run him back up. The basement's clear." Just as I scooped Peter back up and started to run to the stairs, remote turrets came online. "Of people."

Your bare feet skidded across the dirty floor as you made a break for the Northwest stairs while trying to avoid the bodies that littered the floor. Your wings covered you both, but the bullets that hit your legs still hurt. Your heart pounded in your ears as the only person you were worried for was Peter. Did he lose too much blood? Was his body healing around the bullets? Would he ever wake up from this? You pushed your thoughts to the back of your head and focused on running. 

The snow of Ireland made your bare feet bleed, but you were numb to pain at this point as you layed Peter down in the jet. You tried to focus all of your healing energy to your hands, but it wasn't helping. You just decided to step back and let Bruce and Tony try their hardest to help as F.R.I.D.A.Y flew you back to the tower.

They took Peter to the Intensive Care Unit and only when they gave him a transfusion of blood and took all 12 bullets out of his side were you allowed to see him. He had a slight concussion and his face was bruised from the fall. You couldn't do anything to help him but hold his hand with the IV still in.

"Do you remember when we met? It was my first day. Still getting used to the compound. You were hanging from the ceiling as I was quenching a blade in the garage and scared the shit out of me I almost left the blade too long in the oil. I was a mess then. Still thinking that I was undeserving of love. That hydra had used me too much that I wasn't worth anything anymore. Even before Hydra my parents never made me feel good about myself." A shaky breath left your cut lip as you let tears silently slip out. "You're too good for this world Peter. You go out of your way for the little guy. You made me realize no matter how many people kick you in the jaw, even if it's one person or just yourself that wants you to keep going, you get the hell back up. I am that now for you. Please wake up. Please. Just don't be dead. Please." You were crying waterfalls at that point that any words you tried to make came out shaky.

"You are my sunshine 

My only sunshine 

You make me ha... ha-ppy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you 

Please don't take

God please don't take 

My sunshine away."

A week he was asleep. A week too long. His body was healing fine and fast. His brain just needs to realize he's ok and wake up. May visited a lot and talked to you. She felt like another mother to you. In fact, all the women you met through the Avengers were your mother. Well, Shuri was a little older than you, so she's your older sister.  You refused to eat and got ticked off at anyone who tried to get you to. Of course you couldn't die, but starving was slow and it hurt. Eventually, Wanda had to put you in a dreamlike trans in order for them to put an IV in you. You couldn't leave Peter, you couldn't.

One morning you woke up from the side of Peter's bed and saw his eyes open and him sitting up. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah. I woke up in the night and the nurse brought me water and said you haven't left me since I got here." His hand went up and whipped away a tear that you didn't realize was falling.

"You got me there Parker. Don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I'd lost you."

"I won't and you can't get rid of me that easily." He kissed your forehead as you kept smiling through the tears. "Now we better eat before we get suffocated in Aunt May and Mr. Star's hugs." 

"Agreed."

#kuwtp4kwc #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker reader insert #peter parker reader #peter parker one-shot #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshot #avengers #avengers one shot #gargoyle #gargoyles #enhanced!reader #superpower!reader

[reddeaddamnation]

Dirty A-Z headcanons: Edward Kenway

" I s i t j u s t o u r b o d i e s ? A r e w e b o t h l o s i n g o u r m i n d s ?

I s t h e o n l y r e a s o n y o u ' r e h o l d i n g m e t o n i g h t

' C a u s e w e ' r e s c a r e d t o b e l o n e l y . . . "

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He would usually offer a drink or two before going to sleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your lips have always been his favorite. The way they would part open to let out the pleasured sounds you make... The kisses...the blowjo- okay went too far here (jk no I haven't). As for himself he likes his hair very much.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves to cum in your mouth and even more when you swallow it. After sex though, he would usually cum on your thighs.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are dirty thoughts going through his head almost ALL THE TIME. Even when you are just having a normal conversation, he is still thinking of new poses for you to try out.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

We all know that the captain is very skilled in bed, due to the pirate life and all the women who would frankly throw themselves in his arms.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Having you bent over on the desk in his cabin.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He may crack a few jokes from time to time but he prefers to be more serious because a time like this isn't a time for being too silly in his opinion.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps himself groomed when he feels like it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is very foul mouthed so expect a lot of dirty talking. He can also be quite rough with you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates to thoughts of you when you aren't with him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Ever since he refused to leave you be even though you told him you were on your period, that became his ultimate kink.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His bed and desk in the captain quarters. He also loves it when you ride him while he is sitting in his chair.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Hearing the bed creek beneath you only makes him go faster and rougher on you. You know he is horny when he starts groping your ass and feeling you up.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't let anyone else look at you the way he does. Would literally fight someone for it. He's just so territorial.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He honestly prefers receiving but that was before he met you. Before he has never even thought about giving oral to any of the whores he met along his way.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Being a pirate, it is expected of him to be fast and rough and that's exactly how he is. He knows you can take it and aren't a fragile doll.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't engage in quickies. He can always leave it for later when you can do it properly.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Neither. He has been risking all his life and believes that risks should be left away from something like sex. As for experimenting, he just prefers the old fashioned way.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can last two rounds for about twenty minutes.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Like said before, he wouldn't experiment so that leaves toys out of his book.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Isn't a big tease. Would do it just to get you riled up and see what reactions he can get out of you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He usually bites his lip and lets out groans and pants.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Whenever you two have an argument, no matter how bad it is, it always ends in the bedroom with passionate, yet angry sex.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

16-17 cm, average thickness.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

You two do it almost every day. Thats how high his sex drive is.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He would fall asleep after he is done drinking.

#assassin's creed #assassins creed #assassinscreed #assassin's creed iv: black flag #assassin's creed iv #assassin's creed black flag #edward kenway #edward kenway x reader imagine #edward kenway x reader #edward kenway imagine #assassin's creed edward #assassin's creed edward kenway #dirty a z headcanons