Assassin's Creed X Reader One-shots

Catch me if you can P2(Edward X Reader)

My first Edward story, 'Catch me if you can', seems to be the most popular. And I read a comment that I should write a second part, so I did! Here's part 2!

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'How dull,' you thought bitterly, taking a hearty swig from the tankard that's been refilled four times already. (Colour) orbs glide carelessly over the many drunks and pirates on the level below you, all looking equally as miserable as you feel.

"Penny for your thoughts, Captain?" Smythe appears by your side, resting his folded arms atop the wooden bannister, his emerald orbs following your gloomy gaze.

"They aren't worth that much these days, William." You attempt a smile, only to wind up failing miserably at that as well. "I'm sorry. I don't wish to burden you with my troubles."

Smythe rests his hand atop yours, a gentle smile upon his face. "You're anything but a burden, Captain. If something weighs heavily upon your mind, then please, share it with me. Perhaps I can help?"

Exhaling heavily through your nose, you allowed your eyes to drop to the floor. "It's just...I'm bored out of my mind. It feels as though we're sitting here waiting to be escorted to the gallows. We should be doing something. Anything! Not sitting in this rat infested tavern day after day waiting to hear word from Ah Tabai."

"I know exactly what you mean." His face softened a fraction. "I'm not entirely fond of sitting around all day either, but we have our orders. You know what Ah Tabai is like when he's disobeyed."

The both of you shudder, knowing all too well the penalty for disobedience. During your early days in the Brotherhood, you had learnt that your Mayan mentor had zero tolerance for disobedience and mistakes. It was a hard lesson to understand, but one that was even harder to forget; especially when you had a constant reminder of such disobedience running along your cheek.

"Captain...," Smythe started slowly, a sly smile tiptoeing onto his freckled face. "Would you care to have some fun?"

You mirrored his smile, eyes glimmering with curiosity. "That depends, Mister Smythe: What, pray tell, do you have in mind?"

He nodded towards the patrons on the lower level of the tavern. "I happen to know that brawling is a good hearty exercise, and it has been almost an hour since the last fight."

Liking what it was he was suggesting, you grinned, resting your elbow atop the bannister. Luckily for you, there's nothing easier than starting a brawl on Nassau. You look around and consider the most efficient beginning: something quick and easy that'll really help boost your mood.

Sliding a hand into your pocket, you pull out a shiny gold piece, twirling it around your fingers. There's hardly anything more entertaining than watching a bunch of drunken idiots scramble over one another greedily for a chance at claiming a simple coin.

Smythe sniggers as you flip the coin into the air. It twinkles beautifully in the lantern-light as it falls. People pause their drinking and look up as they catch sight of a glimmer in the air. Their companions follow their gaze and an eerie quiet falls in the short moments it takes for your coin to fall to the ground floor.

Then some woman reaches for it, another shoves her, and a man attempts to climb up both of them to claim it for himself. The women turn on him and shove him into a chair, which ends up being knocked over on its side as some large brute slides in out of nowhere. You catch a glimpse of the troublesome piece of gold before it disappears beneath the writhing mass.

A glass is hurled from an unseen patron, and it flies upwards, smashing into some unlucky bastard on the first floor. Said unlucky bastard whirls around and punches the person beside them in a fury. In moments, a man throws a knife. It lands, still quivering, in the wall of your own balcony. The closest woman is a serving wench, who grabs the knife and slashes the arm of a patron trying to unlace her bodice. He howls in rage and goes to punch her. She ducks neatly and goes on her way, stepping around other patrons as they hurl themselves at one another.