#Shay patrick cormac fic

[sweetcocopowder]

Day Nineteen: DP/Naga

Synopsis: Shay has been chosen to be given over to the town protector and is more than willing to go. When Haytham shows himself, the naga that protects the town he's more than thrilled to show him how much of himself he's willing to give. He wants all of Haytham.

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Haytham Kenway/Shay Cormac

Warnings: Anal Sex. Double Penetration. Double Penetration in le same hole. Naga Haytham Kenway. Hand Job. Sex Pollen but it's venom. Coming untouched.

Notes: Helloooo. I know i have written anything much with Shaytham this year for kinktober so here's something thats very different from the rest of my fics. :) Wanted to try something out and Naga Haytham sounded too good to pass up.

Being chosen for the ritual is one thing. The preparation is another. Being dragged up the hill to the temple is another. But being thrown into the temple with the deafening sound of the door being slammed shut behind him is the thing that sets Shay Cormac off.

Shay stumbles to his feet, brushing the dirt off of his naked body. His knees hurt where they’re scuffed, trying to pat the dirt from every inch of his skin. After so, he peers around with furrowed brows. The place smells musty and stale, as if nothing has moved inside for a very long time. He’s never been inside of the temple, and he never thought he’d be here, ever.

There are white columns that rise to the ceiling and lit chandeliers that hang lowly from said ceiling. It brings an orange and moody ambience to the large corridor that is the temple. And at the very end, lays a stone statue of the naga. Half human, half serpent. The naga that everyone talks about in the tow and every worships to protect said town. The statues serpent tail coils around himself as his upper body is hidden behind the stone scales and muscle.

Slowly, Shay moves closer.

He’s heard stories. He swallows thickly. The stories have all been graphic and… tempting. It makes anyone in the small town below the temple to be more than eager to be chosen. How did Shay get so lucky? He makes his own luck. And sometimes it gets him into real deep shit. But right now, his heart beats loudly in his chest at the anticipation of the night.

The stone scales shift suddenly, kicking up dust and other stuff that has settled upon the resting naga. The stone shifts colour, from grey to a dark shimmering black that reflects off the chandeliers above. It’s beautiful. He can’t take his gaze away from the shifting coils of scales, not even when a toned torso emerges from beneath. Dark, slitted blue eyes land upon Shay with an interest, a slim, sly smile forming upon the handsome face of the creature. His black hair falls over his shoulders and it almost looks soft to touch.

“Well, well,” a deep voice curls out from the naga. “It’s that time of the year again?”

Shay shivers at the voice. He stops dead in his tracks, almost ten meters away from the creature. He’s so much more beautiful in person. Handsome. The stories could never do him justice.

The village has a name for him. The original name is something old and forgotten, but the modern translation is something akin to, Haytham.

The naga slithers towards Shay off his stone pedestal. He’s, smaller than Shay would have thought. The way the town talks about him, Haytham is as big as the entire temple, struggling to move around inside. But his torso isn’t any bigger than the average man, his serpent half no wider than his waist. The scaled tail stretches out to at least five meters, pushing and winding across the stone floor.

Shay doesn’t realize how close Haytham is until a hand brushes against his torso as he circles the man. A violent shiver runs down Shay’s back, but he doesn’t move away. The naga grins toothily, his forked tongue flicking out between his teeth. He tastes Shay in the air, and smell something he likes very much.

“They know how to pick them for me,” Haytham’s deep voice curls over Shay like smoke.

 “Strong,” he says as he caresses his back, a clawed hand feeling up and around to the man’s chest. He towers over the man, feeling down his torso as he lingers over him, digging in nose into his hair and flicking his tongue out again, smelling Shay once again. It’s like he can’t get enough.  

“Succulent,” his tongue flicks out again at that. Haytham curls back around to look Shay in the face, grabbing his chin and making him look up. Shay doesn’t budge, moving to where the naga wants him. The man looks into those blue slitted eyes, unable to look away as if he’s in some trance. They look at him as if he’s a meal. But Shay’s crotch twitches under the look, soaking it up all the same. He breathes out shakily, almost keening with need.

“Cute,” Haytham utters under his breath, more to himself than anything else.

Haytham moves back to behind Shay, his hand never leaving the man as it ventures around to the back of his neck, and then down his back. His short claws tickle his skin, goosebumps flushing over his tanned skin. Shay flinches violently as one of his ass cheeks is suddenly cupped and squeezed.

“Relax,” Haytham hums.

“You just frightened me is all,” Shay admits out softly.

Haytham hums again, much deeper this time. He quirks a brow at the accent that drips from Shay’s words, but doesn’t comment on it. “Apologies.”

Shay’s breath hitches as a thumb spreads him open, pushed in easily with a wet squelch. The town made sure that he was more than prepared. He was drained and wrecked afterwards, but it’s for the best.

Haytham is delicate as his thumb is replaced by two fingers. He’s mindful of his claws, not wanting to damage what is his. A third is more than easily added beside the rest and Shay groans deeply at that. Each movement sends a mix of pain and pleasure through his core, his inside being more than sensitive. Haytham’s tongue flicks out as he observes Shay’s reaction.

Without warning, Haytham pulls his fingers out and he’s quick to wrap a hand around Shay’s throat. His tail knocks the man’s feet out from under him so that he can coil himself around Shay, holding him tightly. But not too tight.

Shay doesn’t squirm but he breathes quickly, his eyes so wide that he looks like a spooked horse. The pure heat that radiates off the naga is overwhelming at first. Shay would have thought that he’d be as cold as a snake and just as slippery. A shiver runs down his spin as long, needle like fangs run over his neck.

“This will help you relax,” is the only warning Haytham gives before plunging his fangs into Shay’s neck.

The man startles out a cry, trying to move away but Haytham only coils tighter around Shay. He can feel the venom course through his body quickly like hot, boiling water through his veins. It instantly makes him feel fuzzy all over and his head becomes a foggy mess. He feels like he’s overheating, an immediate sweat breaking out across his forehead.

Haytham releases Shay only enough so that the man leans heavily against his scaly form. Shay’s knees shake violently, and he holds himself up right by holding onto the naga. He groans deeply as the venom surges through his body like hot needles and straight to his rapidly hardening cock. He pants loudly, trying to compose himself but even without touching himself, his cock burns with want already that’s its painful.

“Now don’t go fainting on me like the last one,” Haytham’s tongue flicks out past his soft grin. “He couldn’t handle the venom and passed out right about now. Couldn’t handle it. But you,” the naga drawls out as he wraps a hand around Shay’s cock, giving it a firm and tight stroke. The motion earns the naga a loud, strangled cry from Shay, his grip becoming firm on his scales. His legs shake but he keeps himself upright and Haytham’s thin smile widens even more at this. “But you are a strong one aren’t you.”

“Y-yes,” Shay hisses out through his parted lips. “S-why I was picked- ah!”

Haytham doesn’t stop his firm gripped strokes, palming at Shay’s head to collect precum that’s quickly beading to run it down the length of his shaft. He becomes fixated on Shay, quickening his pace suddenly to milk those panted moans from the man’s throat to returning back to the slow and agonizing strokes. He seems transfixed almost. And with the venom flowing through Shay’s veins, now a comfortable warm that’s making his pale skin flush, all he wants is to cum.

Haytham’s pace quickens again, hand now slick with precum -that seems to just be oozing out of Shay at this point- making the glide just that much easier. Shay trembles, his knees threatening to give out. But with a hand firmly on his chest, pushing him back against the mass of Haytham’s tail behind him, it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Shay squeezes his eyes shut, pants and moans and groans passing past his lips as he quickly nears the edge. He becomes louder, and louder, his body convulsing with each stroke as if his entire body is one twitchy, live wire. He grinds his teeth as he nears, but it never comes.

A hand clamps at the base of his dick, stopping Shay from coming. He twitches and jerks in the naga’s grip as a needy  whine releases from his throat. Who knew the serpent could be so cruel.

“I do apologize,” Haytham’s forked tongue flips out between his lips. “I do like to play with my food.”

Before Shay can realize what’s happening or collect himself, he’s being hefted up on top of Haytham’s scaly hips. His back is to the naga’s chest and something, hard, warm and slimy slips between his thighs. Shay opens his eyes to gaze upon the two red cocks that stand at attention in front of him. They have a slimy sheen to them and have a tapered head. Shay swallows thickly, not being able to pry his eyes away.

They’re a little bigger than the average human, but the thought of having not one, but both of them inside of him sends a thrill through his body. His cock twitches at the thought.

Haytham licks a hot strip from the base of Shay’s neck to his ear. His words curl and hum deeply in his chest, “Do you think you can take both of them? Take all of me?”

One of his hands splays itself out on Shay’s stomach. Just the thought itself makes Shay’s dick twitch between his legs. He finds himself nodding before he can stop himself. Yes. He would like that very much. He can’t even form the words, his mouth suddenly going dry.

With a tight grip around his waist, Haytham lifts Shay up above one of his weeping cocks. With a shiver, Shay helps guide one towards is prepared hole, the head slipping in with ease. He shivers as with little to two thrusts, Shay is seated heavily on the naga’s cock. It fills him out in the best places, pushing deep inside of him and pushing against all the right bits. He exhales shakily as he plants a hands in front of him on Haytham’s scaled underside.

Haytham’s second cock rubs and twitches against Shay’s own, earning a shaky whine from the man. His own cock is still so sensitive, but the warm slicked cock is almost intoxicating. Gazing down upon it, he does hope that he can take the second one. He wants everything Haytham can give him. Not just for the town’s sake, but he’s been wanting this for a long, long time. He’s always wanted to be chosen for this, to see the great Haytham and have the naga take his body.

“I do welcome that they prepare my food for me before hand,” Haytham hums. “I’m not one to be jealous of such things. Not when it makes my meal much easier to take.”

His words send a shiver down Shay’s back. He shifts his hips up a little before slowly gliding down against, using Haytham’s thick scaled body as leverage. He repeats it a couple of times, getting lost in the feeling of Haytham inside of him. And every time he moves, Haytham’s second cock rubs up against his own dick and stomach.

“I wanted to be ready for you, Haytham,” Shay moans out through parted lips. “So that you wouldn’t grow frustrated or bored.”

Haytham chuckles darkly, his tongue flicking out to taste him once again. “Dear one, I don’t think I could get bored from you. You seem to be the best one yet,” he says deeply, a dark chuckle emitting from his lips.

Haytham shudders out a sigh with satisfaction as Shay angles his body ever so slightly so that his cock rubs heavily against his walls. He hisses through his teeth, wanting to loose himself in the man wanting to give himself to the naga but he grows impatient. Not bored, he corrects himself. Just impatient.

While holding Shay in place, he shifts his body so that he’s positioned in an S shape with the man still on top of him. Being around two meters off the ground, Shay holds on tightly to what he has, his fingers digging into the soft scales of the naga’s underbelly. But Haytham’s grip is firm. He wouldn’t dare let his little offering fall.

With his grip still on Shay, he holds him in place as he pulls almost all the way out to thrust upwards harshly. It knocks the wind out of Shay and he can’t catch his breath shortly after because Haytham sets a fast and deep past. The pure bliss and electric that shoots through Shay is almost mind numbing. He keens and whines, not being able to do much but take it. With the venom shooting through him, it’s as if everything is heightened to a ten.

With this, Shay isn’t going to last long. He can already feel himself nearing the edge and by how loud he’s getting, he’s close. His voice echoes off the temple walls. The venom makes everything hot and tingly and makes everything feel oh so good. Be damned if the town can hear him down below, let them hear him.

“I- ah! want all of- nnghah! you,” Shay manages to pant out in between Haytham thrusting up into him.

The naga’s slitted eyes narrow onto Shay and a wicked smile comes upon his face. He leans forward, wrapping an arm around Shay’s chest, the other holding him by the waist still to keep him just on the head of his cock.

“You surprise me,” Haytham grins as he licks a hot strip up Shay’s neck. “Not many have actually wanted to take both of me.”

“Please,” the man all but whimpers out.

Shay stays still as he feels the second head nudge up against his hole. He grinds his teeth as it slowly pushes beside the first. The stretch stings, but Haytham is slow. The slick on his cocks eases the way as he nudges and softly thrusts upwards into Shay, getting inch by inch of himself in.

With each inch, Shay can’t silence himself. He feels like he’s being split open, but in a good way that makes him feel beyond full. And he can’t helped the choked cry when he’s finally seated with all of Haytham inside of him. And Haytham doesn’t waste any time. He begins a shallow, quick pace that nudges everything up inside of Shay. With each movement, Shay feels every lung full of air pushed out of him with a whiny groan. His hands shake where they’re balled up on Haytham’s scaly tail.

It isn’t long before the naga is pulling half way out to slam his hips back up into Shay, setting an almost cruel pace. He holds onto Shay with arms wrapped around his chest, bringing him up against his own body. He wants to hear every noise that Shay has to offer. Every sound that he’s able to create from the man.

The new angle has the naga’s cock pressing up against that beautiful bundle of nerves that sends a full body jolt through Shay every time he passes by it. Haytham doesn’t stop, his tongue flicking out over Shay’s sweat sheened skin to taste him.

“You truly are a delectable offering,” Haytham mumbles deeply. “I may not give you back. Might keep you all to myself.”

Shay cries out as he comes untouched, holding onto Haytham’s arms as every nerve in his body lights up. His whole body stiffens and twitches as hot, thick ropes of cum land onto Haytham’s dark scales.

Haytham doesn’t stop, grinning to himself as he rides Shay through his orgasm. He fucks him until he’s quivering with oversensitivity, but Haytham isn’t too far behind him. He comes deeply into Shay, rutting upwards with an intensity that has the man choking out a sob. Haytham wants all of him inside, not moving an inch until he’s spent everything.

When he pulls out with a shakily exhale, thick white cum spills out over himself. Shay shakes in his hold, trying to collect his breathing once again. His eyes are squeezed shut and his legs shake violently, his body feeling like jelly. Haytham flicks his tongue out, tasting Shay once more. Delicious. It makes his whole body shiver with the anticipation for the future. He holds tighter onto Shay, his claws threatening to dig into the man’s soft skin.

Oh, the village isn’t getting this one back any time soon. He’s going to have fun with this meal he’s been given and he doesn’t like sharing when something is this delicious.

-

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[carissimipaixao]

Though, it was as if God had heard your prayers. Because, one day, as you walked along the shores, trying to think of your father’s success overseas, trying to pray for his health, you found yourself stopping in your tracks — your eyes fixated on a foreign spot of gray and brown in the sand. Your heart raced as your feet stomped on the ground, your hands holding up your skirt. And, as you neared the body, feeling for the worst, you just barely caught the dazed and disoriented gaze of the man before his eyes closed and his head fell back onto the sand.

— healing spirits (shay cormac)

[marshmallow--3]

Another year has passed where I have not made any progress on my Shay Cormac St Patrick's Day smut fic and a lot has happened since I begun writing it - left the fandom, got diagnosed as autistic and gone down a route of questioning my sexuality and whether I'm ace. Essentially, all that I've created in fanfiction has been masking and following a formula of what I think people find sexy because I have no concept of what sexy is 🤷‍♂️ I still to this day do not understand how you define sexual attraction

Been to a male strip club, found it hot because I thought that's what I was supposed to feel, further down the line realised that actually no, penises are actually quite repulsive and make me feel physically sick

Tried out a sex club to use fear exposure to overcome a trigger, came out of it with more confidence, experience with women (yass), but a stronger repulsion towards sex and dicks than ever before

Been through multiple stages where I've handled total fear of men and overcoming trauma, found women easier to be around in some regards (Tumblr) and yet absolutely terrifying to be around in other regards (Xbox)

All in all at this stage, I would describe my sexuality as "no thanks, not for me"

So I don't think there's any chance of me finishing any work I've started or creating anything else in the future, because I just don't understand it

[writingsofanobsessedwoman]

How the Assassins (and some Templars) would be on your birthday:

Ezio Auditore

He'd likely wake you up with some morning "exercises", and take you on a stroll/ride through your favorite places

A candlelit dinner atop a building overlooking the sunset to finish the day with some fancy wine

Would give you anything you'd wanted, including but not limited to a portrait of the two of you done by Leonardo (you'd thank the little artist later)

Rose petals leading up to your room

Leonardo Da Vinci

Honestly, he's the type to just let you lead the day. Shopping? He's there with you paying for what he can. A boat ride? Of course!

Would be sweet the whole day, holding your hand with a dopey little grin as he followed you

Flowers, your favorite chocolates, art supplies if you're that way inclined

Connor Kenway

You're very special to him, and he makes you feel it on your birthday

He'd get someone to make you a cake (he tried and nearly burnt the house down in the process)

Flowers by your bedside as he woke you up with sweet kisses

He'd go to town with you if you really wanted to go

Or ride around the homestead all day and show you some beautiful places he's found

Wouldn't let you do any work for the day

He'd end it all by holding you close as he gifted you a little carved animal (your favorite), and a necklace he'd bought one day with your favorite stone set in it

Edward Kenway

Would also wake you up with "exercise"

He'd sail around with you, letting you tell him where to go

He may even let you steer the Jackdaw for a bit

You'll likely not remember much, as you'll be drunk for most of the night

Would give you all kinds of jewelry the he's obtained on his voyages

James Kidd/Mary Read

They're a romantic through and through. And extravagant

Would wake you up sweetly, but it'd turn spicy

Down to do whatever you want, be it a picnic or drinking at a pub, they're happy

Gifts would be thoughtful, plus some jewelry and the like

Shay Patrick Cormac

See morning "exercise"

A romantic, Shay would have the whole day planned out for you

He'd sail you somewhere nice, and have a home-cooked meal awaiting somewhere quiet

Would take you back to the fort for a surprise party with a small band of folk playing music

Liam O'Brien

Assuming he isn't gone off on a mission, he'd likely take you shooting with him

He'd buy you sweets and just be sweet the whole day

Would dance with you in a clearing somewhere

His gifts would probably be practical, like some new gloves or something

Haytham Kenway

Prepare to feel like royalty for a day

He'd spare no expense for your birthday

The best food, the finest imported wine, best clothing he could find, all of it's yours

Don't think about lifting a finger, either

Breakfast in bed, followed by an extravagant ball in your honor

Jacob Frye

CHAOS from the moment your eyes opened

Tried to make you breakfast, set it on fire

Takes you around London

A surprise dinner (the Rooks set it up for him) on top of Big Ben

Would get Evie to help him with some flowers

You'd end up drunk, laughing, and happy

My birthday is the 28th this month (December), so this is my gift to myself. If you want anyone added, let me know. These are all kinda short, sorry. I've got a heck of a migraine at the moment. Probably doing some for the Red Dead boys next. And yes, I used gender neutral pronouns for James/Mary. Sue me

[niennavalier]

AC: Rogue - Second Chances

Summary: He's not an Assassin anymore - Shay has no doubts about that. He's less sure where that leaves him in the world, or in the context of this centuries-long war between Assassins and Templars. But when he's presented with a second chance - from a Templar, no less - he has to question all that he's done in the past. And all that he'll do in the future.

Character study set during AC: Rogue Sequence 3-1 "The Color of Right".

(Also posted on AO3)

*****

Shay isn’t sure what he’d been expecting. There’s little he remembers of the moment after being shot, aside from perhaps accepting his fate, knowing that, at the very least, he’d stopped the Assassins from leveling more cities. But he hadn’t expected to wake up at all, much less in a comfortable home and cared for by a kindly couple.

He’d not thought that he could be surprised by much else, but then Mrs. Finnegan - Cassidy - had handed him some clothing, and now, dressing himself, he can’t help but think.

They were our son's . Those words - they keep circling through his head as he readjusts the coat, finishes tightening his belt. Because he can't keep the thought from his mind.

The Finnegans' son - he'd been a Templar.

He'd not wanted to believe it at first, seeing the crosses at his shoulders, telling himself it was something else, something he'd seen elsewhere. It wasn't the Templar cross, and the couple who'd taken him in and cared for him as their own - they weren't Templars. They weren’t the same people he’d spent years fighting.

But pulling the strap for his rifle over his shoulder, the other cross settling on top of his heart, it’s not something he can deny. Somehow, he’s certain of it; whether the Finnegans are Templars themselves, their son had been.

And now he’s wearing the lad’s clothes. It’s something that makes him all the more aware of the hidden blades at his wrists - nothing feels quite right about any of this. Not that he can do much about it.

Sighing and shaking the thoughts from his head for now, he takes the time to tie his hair away from his face and happens to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Looking as he does, he has no doubt his younger self would've thought him a Templar himself, some fanatic obsessed with order. With his weapons returned, he looks every bit a man ready to fight for all that he’d once fought against . Though it's not like he has much choice; he doubts his old clothes had survived the ordeal.

He's not mourning their loss, though. It's a sudden realization, and one he wasn’t expecting to have, but he hadn't been eager to don the hood again. And he still isn't, perhaps would never be. Stranger still, it's not a thought he can bring himself to regret.

Wearing the uniform of the people he’d called enemies is unsettling, but as his last memories of the Homestead flash through his mind - all those he’d called friends, called family , suddenly turned against him - he’s certain that wearing his own robes would’ve been worse.

As he steps back into the main room, though, it’s like none of that even matters. The way Cassidy’s eyes light up - “Oh, well don’t you look a right gentleman!” - it fills him with something warm that he can’t remember when he last felt. Warmth. Family. Feeling like he doesn’t have to work to earn affection, the way he suspects it feels to have parents, despite never properly knowing his own.

Perhaps it shouldn’t feel as novel as it does, but he can’t help freezing on the spot. How is he meant to respond to that?

So he doesn't respond, at least, not directly. He asks about the Manuscript - lost, apparently, and some mix of relief and anger flares in his chest. Good, better that no one can get their hands on the damned thing. Good-hearted folk like these - they wouldn't be caught in the crossfire ever again. He'd see to that.

***

He's not expecting it when a man approaches him from behind, the cross on his sash - a Templar cross, it must be - the first and only thing Shay sees. His hand is reaching back for his pistols before he even realizes it - trust isn't something he's keen on having in spades for now.

"Be at ease, Master Cormac, we are friends.” Doubtful. But the man does know his name, somehow, even if Shay can’t guess why. Does he also know -? He must. This dance they’re doing - it’s too familiar. Both of them know what the other is (or rather, was , Shay supposes). He’d have to tread carefully; he has no idea what this Templar wants with him. “The Finnegans were worried you might take matters into your own hands. I am Colonel George Monro.”

Shay nods, the safest thing he can think to do. “Colonel.” The Finnegans, he’s willing to trust, and the Colonel knowing them might have meant something had their son not also been a Templar. As it stands, the connection means little.

“I came to help, but it seems I am late. Thank you for dealing with these foul criminals.” He eyes the gang leader (the Assassin-trained gang leader) Shay had killed just minutes earlier. “They were a blight on New York.”

The words are quick to rub him wrong. “What do you care?” For all Shay might agree about the gangs, he’d yet to meet a British officer who gave a damn about the colonists. Much less one who was a Templar, besides. “You Redcoats are nothing but landlords. The townsfolk here are grinding away, trying to make a living.” And for what, really?

“I cannot blame you for having that impression.” Of course he can’t. It’s true, and Shay had seen it himself. The restrictions keeping merchants from trading as they pleased, the dangers and hardships braved by the colonists only for their earnings to line the pockets of the Crown. It’s the truth, not just an impression. “Some of my comrades have been less than helpful. But I take a different approach.”

“And what is that?” The words are bitter on his tongue.

“I care. I want to see these colonists safe and prosperous.” Years of training are screaming in his head not to trust this man. That he's just another Templar snake who's willing to say anything if it gets him his way. There's no way for Shay to know if he means any of the things coming out of his mouth.

"Noble words." But were any of them true? He’d naively thought others as righteous as the Colonel made himself out to be, and they’d all proven otherwise.

"Perhaps actions will convince you otherwise, Master Cormac." The Colonel gestures for him to lead the way, and he hesitates for a moment - it's a trick, it has to be - before thinking deeper on it. Betrayal still lingers in his mind, learning that the people he’d called his family cared more about ancient artifacts than they did him, or the thousands of innocent lives on the line. He knows now that they must have lied to him all along, and, really, were they all that different from the Templars? Now, he’s not an Assassin anymore, and that’s not enough to change any of what he believes about the Templars, but it’s enough to make him think.

Perhaps he could hear the Colonel out, if nothing else. At worst, his beliefs would be confirmed yet again. At best…

He's not ready yet to think there can be a better outcome.

***

“You can do great things for this city and its citizens. After all, a man needs purpose.” Those are the last words he hears from the Colonel before the man takes his leave, and they cut into him deeper than he'd like to admit. Though it's not for a bad reason of any sort. The way he explains himself - Shay can't help but feel like he can trust him. Perhaps because it sounds like the Colonel trusts him in return, despite having never met, and the two of them having stood on opposite sides. There's more than a chance that it should worry him, but instead it makes him think of something else - the orders and harsh reprimands from the Assassins. He'd known none of them (save maybe Liam) had ever really trusted him or his skills, but he'd not thought that much of it at the time. Assumed it was normal, being that he'd been the newest one there, but now, the way the Colonel was talking to him, he's starting to rethink that. Perhaps starting to resent that, too, whether he likes it or not.

It’s a selfish reason to make any kind of decision, and he knows as much, refreshing as all of it might feel. It’s not something he’d act on alone - he’s already seen what blind faith and desperation can do, and who can pay the price of death and destruction as a result. Lisbon flashes through his mind, as clear as if it’d happened yesterday. Screams of pain and terror still ring in his ears as smoke and sulfur make his eyes and nose sting, heat from the flames burning his cheeks. His rib smarts, and for a moment, he thinks it’s from tumbling through a crumbling building, crashing against walls and floors and furniture, not from falling off a cliff at the Homestead.

He forces himself to breathe and shakes the memories from his mind. That’s what he can’t let happen again. That’s what he has to make right, no matter what it takes.

And so he can't help but feel drawn in by all the things Colonel Monro said, about just doing right by the people. Making their lives better, not through freedom or control - not through the Assassins or Templars - but just by helping where they can.

As badly as he wants to remain skeptical, he can’t find a problem in that, at least.

But he still stands and watches for some time after that, wanting to see for himself. He stays along the sidelines as the citizens of New York wander by, their eyes turning bright as they hear that the old building is to be restored. From their conversations, he learns that the place had once been a church, left to disrepair now with the threat of war hanging over them. And seeing it ready to be restored - it visibly fills them with hope, and that lights something warm in his chest. Something that he's not sure when he felt last.

It reminds him of the way he’d felt when he’d first joined the Assassins, hopeful, and like he was finally sure of what he was doing. But he’d been a fool, then - he knows that, now - and hadn’t known that he’d hurt far more people than he’d help.

He can't say where he stands when it comes to the Assassins and Templars, to the endless war he'd fought in without ever really understanding it, but he's always trusted himself to know what's right. And this - seeing the lives of normal, everyday folk made easier - he can feel is right.

And for now, perhaps that would be enough.

He can accept that much, and knows he should head back to the Finnegans - all else aside, he trusts them. But as he winds through the familiar streets of his home, he can't help but think on the Colonel's offer. The man may be a Templar, but what he's offering - this way to just help people - it feels like a second chance. Like a way to start atoning for all the lives lost in Lisbon. Exactly what the Assassins wouldn't allow him to do.

Perhaps… perhaps this is the way forward. He may not be fully ready to trust the man yet, for all that he seems honorable, but doing some good for the people of the city, protecting them against those who would do them harm - that much, he would do.

[angel-tries-to-write]

Sunrise

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Rating: Teen and up Pairing: Shay Cormac x reader Word count: 2344 Genre: angst

Shay is the Templar now, while you’re still the Assassin. Your love is as strong, as it’s forbidden. Yet sometimes the smallest things can mean the most. Inspired by “In The Heights”, this time.

Some people are unable to stay away from trouble by either causing them or finding them involuntarily. This kind of people simply cannot sit still when something is happening, they always have to be involved. Each one of you was that kind of people, you, Kesegowaase, Liam, Hope and Shay. After all, regular and peaceful people don't become Assassins, this kind of job is meant for uneasy spirits who can't stay in one place for long. They also must want to change the world for the better. At least this kind of thinking led you to the Brotherhood and you couldn't complain. You had an adventurous life, you were making the world more free with every killed Templar and you had your friends who always had your back. One of them was even more than a friend.

Shay was always the most energetic and impatient, like a white hot spark popping out of the fireplace. He acted or spoke first, then thought, compared to him you were almost stoic. Yet you had found a common ground easily, a lot like him, you doubted if what your Brotherhood was doing was right. You would've spend hours talking, joking and having fun, which ultimately lead you to develop a romantic relationship. For a very short time your life just couldn't be better. You were young, unstoppable and absolutely in love.

Unfortunately, your doubts turned out to be real. When Shay was sent to Lisbon, you couldn't stop thinking about him, you wanted him to come back to you, despite knowing he was fully capable of taking care of himself. One day, after painfully long weeks, you saw your lover coming back to the Homestead. You missed him dearly and you were pretty sure he missed you as well, yet when you ran to meet him halfway, you noticed he was upset. He didn't want to talk to you, he only said he needed to see Achilles. Soon you got to know what was bothering your man and you wished you didn't. Shay was right, the Brotherhood went away from its own tenants, but unlike him, you believed it could be fixed. You tried to convince him to help you, but he wasn't listening. Therefore he earned himself a mark of a traitor and was presumably killed, while you were punished for trying to protect him. But when you had found out he survived and joined the Templars, you stopped caring about the others. You had to see him.

Hidden in the soothing darkness of the night, when there was no moon and only stars were shining, you snuck out of the Homestead, triple checking if no one followed you. Then you infiltrated the Templars' quarters, where you expected to find your former partner. Finally, after a few hours of hiding in the shadows, you had found Shay's room. But as soon as you stepped in, he pulled out his sword and pointed it at your throat.

“I must admit, I am impressed. It doesn't happen often, that a prey comes to the predator themselves” he spoke trying to be cool, but you could tell his voice was about to crack. He didn't want to hurt you, even if he thought he had to.

“I'm not your prey” you answered, looking directly into his eyes.

“Why did you come?”

“To see you. Whether you believe it or not, I genuinely miss you. It's not a trick and no one knows I'm here. If you really want to kill me, go for it. But I don't think you can” you said daringly. Shay's hand trembled and he bit his lip. He certainly expected a trick, but failed to sense it, because there wasn't any.

“I can. You won't be the first Assassin who fall to my sword” he protested, but you knew he was bluffing. You could see it in his eyes.

“Really? You already forgot what was between us? How I tried to stop the others from killing you, because of my feelings for you? I love you, Shay. And nothing can change that, even if I wanted it more than anything. I didn't come here to kill you, I came here to see you and here's my proof” you exposed your hands proving you didn't have your hidden blade. That seemed to convince the man to lower his weapon.

“You came here unarmed? That's just stupid” he raised his eyebrow in disbelief.

“I'm not unarmed, I have a dagger, a few smoke bombs and some throwing knives. Everything that can provide me escape if something went wrong. But I didn't have to use them and I don't need them for now” you scoffed and unbuttoned your coat, then undid your belt and put them on the floor, clearly showing you didn't take anything from it, then you stepped away from them.

“What game are you playing, (y/n)?” Shay asked and you shrugged.

“I'm not playing any game. I missed my boyfriend who turned out to be not dead, so I wanted to see him. Now, would you allow me to come close to you, or am I supposed to take off something else?” you asked and his eyes lighted with feelings. Just like you, he couldn't simply ignore his heart.

“I have a few ideas” he admitted with a smirk.

“Then come and take it off yourself” you copied his smirk and opened your shirt, exposing your chest. That made Shay inhale sharply and unbutton his own clothes. At the same time he started to approach you and you weren't going to wait patiently. Your bodies crashed with desperation and longing, touch starved skin itched with the lightest brush, your clothes quickly became disturbing, so they had to go. It didn't take long until you both were naked and heavily aroused.

“I missed you so much, love” Shay purred as he kissed your neck.

“I missed you too” you whispered, stifling a moan as he sucked on your pulse point. For a moment the whole world was gone, Assassins, Templars, nothing mattered, only the two of you. It felt divine to feel him so close again, to make love with him, to forget you had any issues. The bliss lasted until the dark room started to light up a little, an inevitable sign that the night was coming to an end. Yet you kept lying in the arms of your beloved one, trying to figure everything out.

“Join me, (y/n)” you heard him say and you sighed. You knew he was asking for too much.

“I can't, my love. I understand your point, I shared your doubts, after all, yet I don't think there's no other option. There has to be.”

“They need to be stopped.”

“They need to be corrected. I believe there is a way to prove them wrong, to make the Brotherhood follow its Creed again. But becoming a Templar is not the solution” you lifted yourself on your elbow. “I respect your decision, Shay, but I also want you to respect mine. I will not betray the Brotherhood. I'm the Assassin since birth. If you're the Templar, that makes us mortal enemies” you stated, fighting back the tears. Shay caressed your cheek and you leaned into his hand.

“You were right. I couldn't kill you. And I will respect your decision, though I do not approve of it. I also can't go back to the Brotherhood.”

“Yes, I know. However this means we have no future together” you sighed and kissed him softly. “I wish we could have our happily ever after.”

“Seems like our fairy tale has no happy ending” it was Shay's turn to sigh.

“We have to catch little moments like this one. Before sunrise. When we are not the Templar and the Assassin, but two people in love.”

“It's sunrise already?” he asked with disbelief and looked at the window.

“It is. And I should go soon.”

“I wish you could stay for longer.”

“Me too. But I can't risk getting caught. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“I don't care. I just want you” he pulled you close again.

“Anything at all can happen just before the sunrise” you smiled and gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth. He answered to that with a kiss.

“Promise me it's not our last encounter. Promise me you reconsider your allegiance. Promise me...” he silenced as he couldn't find the right words.

“Promise me you'll stay beyond the sunrise. That every time you see it, you will be thinking about me. That you will never forget our love. Because I promise I will never forget it. You will always be in my heart” you swore, marking an X on your chest.

“Why does it sound like a goodbye?” Shay looked at you with concern.

“Because I decided to leave the colonies if everything else fails. I'm not sure where should I go, but I decided that will be the best. If they keep ignoring my warnings, I will have to leave. I don't want to fight them and I don't want to fight you. And if I stay, it will happen sooner or later.”

“Maybe the Brotherhood needs a new mentor. Maybe you should take Achilles' place.”

“Would you be able to spare me if I did?” you asked and his silence was the answer you needed. “That's what I thought” you smiled sadly and slipped out of Shay's embrace. He watched you dress up with sadness and adoration.

“Goodbye, my love. I really hope we meet again” he said and you could tell he missed you already.

“I hope so either” you turned to the window and smiled. “Sunrise” you whispered and went outside, sending your lover one last look. Then you snuck back to the Homestead, which was slightly more difficult, yet not impossible.

“Where have you been?” you heard someone asking. When you turned around, you saw Liam.

“Doesn't matter” you answered, not even stopping by. Your heart hurt after your parting with Shay, you didn't care for much. But Liam grabbed your arm and turned you around, so he could look you in the face.

“You seem sad. What happened?” he asked and pulled your collar, to expose red mark on the base of your neck.

“Nothing happened, let me go” you protested and took a few steps back.

“Nothing happened, yet you snuck out, then came back sad and there's a love mark on your neck” Liam crossed his arms in his chest. “Did you meet with Shay?”

“Why would I?”

“You two were close, so I assume you didn't betray us then only to work for him now.”

“How dare you...”

“He's a traitor, (y/n)! You are supposed to kill him, not fuck him! Otherwise you're a traitor as well!” he yelled and you felt anger overwhelming you.

“I would never betray the Brotherhood! I love Shay and he loves me, but we're painfully aware of our allegiances. That night we forgot about them so we could be together, but I came back, because I'm loyal to my Creed. Even if I'm in love with the enemy” you confessed, unable to look Liam in the eye. “I value the Creed more than the man I love and while I share his belief that the Brotherhood is lost and doesn't follow its own tenants anymore, I know becoming a Templar is not a solution. Shay made his choice and so I made mine. I want to try to restore the Brotherhood, but if you keep being so stubborn, I'll have no choice but leave. I'd rather be a lone Assassin than join Templars or support your actions.”

“Then you can pack your bags already, because we're not going to listen to a traitor. If you're not with us, you're against us.”

“Fine” you turned around and ran straight to your room, where you packed your belongings. The sunlight was pouring through the window and you did your best to not cry. You knew however, that it was the only thing you could do to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

“(y/n)? What are you doing?” Achilles asked, appearing in the entrance to your room.

“I'm leaving. I can't stay here anymore. Besides, Liam has just accused me of treason, because I've met with Shay” you closed your bag and looked at the older man. “I'm sorry, but I don't want us to fight. I also don't want to fight Shay. It will be best if I leave.”

“You just want to run like that?”

“And what am I supposed to do? I'm torn between my friends and my lover. I can't join him, I can't betray the Brotherhood, I've been the Assassin for all my life and I can't agree with Templars' philosophy. Yet I can't kill him, both of us had plenty of opportunities to kill each other and we couldn't bring ourselves to do that. Despite our allegiances, our love is strong and we can't help it. That's why I have to leave. Shay isn't going to stop, neither are you. I don't want to be a part of this. I'll do better if I serve another Brotherhood than get myself killed here.”

“Very well. Go if you want to, I can even write a letter that would help you get into another Brotherhood. But you are not allowed to come back. If any of us ever see you again, we won't hesitate to kill you” Achilles said and you nodded. Part of you hurt, it was tough to leave the place you had lived all of your life, you were also never meant to see your lover again. But the other part of you was relieved. You expected to be killed for treason, yet you had a point that exile was wiser. After all you were a good Assassin.

“Goodbye, Achilles. I hope one day you find the way to the Creed again” you said and not waiting for an answer, you had left to never come back again.

[young-eagle-1725]

The Sins of The Father Chapter 12

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13789466/12/

@dailydoseofchoices - Chapter 12 has been uploaded and I hope you enjoy it!

🦅❤️

[emperor-palpaminty]

Storms

I’m replaying Rogue and Shay’s voice is literally addictive so have an AC rogue fic because I am having feelings for Shay Patrick Cormac

F!Reader, no use of y/n or “you”

She curled up on the windowsil, staring out at the winds harassing the trees. This time of year and this close to the coast often resulted in brutal storms. She shuddered, pulling the knitted blanket more around herself, watching the grey clouds roll in. 

Her head snapped towards the door as it shuddered and opened, the tall figure dropping the fire wood by the entry way. “Ah, it’s far too cold out there.” He shrugged off his black coat as she stood, the blanket pulling closer. Shay looked over and smiled briefly. “Perhaps if I had a pair of arms to warm me up, lass.”

The woman chuckled and nodded. She was fully dressed, but still cold, or at least cold enough to put on the blanket around her day to day wear. “Fine, Shay, I suppose we could share.”

The man met her halfway- he bent and scooped her up, walking over to the couch and lowering himself, pulling her into his lap. “Hold me, lass.” He said softly, smiling against her cheek. “If ya hold me, you can scare off the cold that’s lurkin’ in my bones.” He kissed her face as she giggled, draping the blankets around them both. “Don’t want me dying of chills, do we?”

“You? Cold? Please, Shay.” She pulled her head away and looked at him, fighting a grin away from her mouth. His eyes traced the gentle curve of the smile as her warmth seeped into him with a shudder running up his spine. “You’ve survived on ice caps, and with polar bears.”

“Mm,” He managed, eyes still skimming her face. She turned her head away, her lips turning up in that giggle that he knew was her shy of his flattery and flirting. “I landed a lovely lass, you know.” He ran his hand up her side, leaning forward until his nose pressed to her cheek. Shay closed his eyes and inhaled her scent- she smelled of warmth, bread, and spices, all that were fond of his heart. “What did I do to deserve ye?”

She laughed again. It fluttered away as she stood, pacing towards the fireplace. “I should get a fire started.”

“Aye, it’ll make it warmer, but I can do it.” Shay stood, steps pausing only when thunder rumbled outside. He groaned and stared at the window, rubbing his hands together. “Great. The Morrigan is all out, and she just got a new shipment of powder- I hope it’s all loaded.”

“Shay,” Her voice lilted from the fireplace as she worked. She was holding her skirts back gently, humming as she stoked at the starting flame. “I am sure that Gist and the boys got it all loaded together.” She turned her head and looked at him, offering an encouraging smile. “Besides, if they didn’t, you could simply throw Gist overboard.”

Shay shook his head, but laughed as he picked up a couple pieces of wood. They weren’t damp, fortunately, and there was some more waiting in the covered part of the porch. “Aye, he would like that.” He walked over and bent down by her, gently throwing in one of the wood pieces. “He probably did something else to deserve it, too- just can’t name it.” He lowered himself onto the rug, watching as his lover did the same, picking up the blanket. 

“Shay? May I ask you something?”

May she? “Anything at all ye want, I’m as open as a book.”

“I know you work for Mister Kenway.” She stated. “And I know the nature of... some of your work.” The words were selected carefully, as if she had thought this out. “But before... he said you worked for someone else.”

The cold seemed to return, breathing down his neck. “Sorry, lass. That I won’t say.” She opened her mouth to speak, and Shay raised a soothing hand, gentle in his movement, earnestly seeking her eyes. “The less I say, the safer ye are.” She closed her mouth, pursing her lips in thought. 

“But I would like some answers.”

“And you’ll have them, but not today.” Shay wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his chest as the fire sparked. It whispered and crackled, promising some semblance of peace. She didn’t need to know everything about the Assassians, his Brotherhood. Not tonight at least. “Today, let’s watch the fire and have each other in the warmth.” 

She nodded as she nestled back to him, her head lolling back on his chest. “And tomorrow, Shay?”

“Tomorrow I’ll throw Gist overboard. Just for ye.”

She laughed and pulled his hand to her lips, gently kissing it as the flames danced, the little sounds drowning out another rumble of thunder. “Of course.” She closed her eyes, the orange glow embracing her, lacing her lashes and cheeks. “And tonight we will be here.” She confirmed, softly, and he lowered his head to kiss her hair.

“Aye,” He whispered into her locks, running a hand over her back. “Tonight you’ll be safe with me.”

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Characters/ Types of Request

**Characters will be added if I can imagine them actually saying the words I write

All characters will be aged up 21 yrs.+ if they are originally minor. I will repeat once more, I started this page incredibly young --- back then, it was appropriate for me to like kid characters because I was a kid myself. But I am older now. If you want me to write about a character that first premiered as a minor, I will only write about them in an adult setting. Meaning, all characters, from this day (1/3/2023) and onwards, are fully grown adults going through adult situations w/ the exception of a flashback or .

Example.

My canon universe --- BNHA is a University Setting. JJK is a current/post-canon University Setting. Haikyuu!! is a University Setting. Anything before 2023 is to be treated as a teenager's want to practice literature.

From now on, things will work differently.

If you read this, thank you for your time.

Feel free to request according to the establish rules.

...

One Piece -

Pirates

Monkey D. Luffy

Portgas D. Ace

Zoro Roronoa

Sanji Vinsmoke

Trafalgar D. Law

Kid Eustass

Killer

Shanks

Katakuri Charlotte

Silvers Rayleigh

Gol D. Roger

Doflamingo Donquixote

Dracule Mihawk

Marco the Phoenix

Thatch

Izo

Benn Beckman

Sir Crocodile

Marines

Smoker

“Aokiji” Kuzan (ex-marine ver. too)

“Kizaru” Borsalino

“Akainu” Sakazuki

“Fujitora” Issho

Captain Koby

Rocinante Donquixote

Monkey D. Harp

Sengoku

World Government

Kaku

Rob Lucci

Other.

Kyoshiro / Denjiro

My Hero Academia -

Pro-Heroes/University Students

Katsuki Bakugou

Izuku Midoriya

Shouto Todoroki

Hitoshi Shinsou

Eijirou Kirishima

Denki Kaminari

Tenya Iida

Hanta Sero

Momo Yaoyorozu

Ochaco Uraraka

Fumikage Tokoyami

Mina Ashido

Mirio Togata

Tamaki Imajiki

Inasa Yoarashi

Eri (Parental)

Pro-Heroes/Professors

Shouta Aizawa / Eraserhead

Toshinori Yagi / All Might

Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic

Tsunagu Hakamata / Best Jeanist

Keigo Takami / Hawks

Enji Todoroki / Endeavor (Debatable)

Nemuri Kayama / Midnight

Taishiro Toyomitsu / Fat Gum

Gunhead

Sekijiro Kan / Vlad King

Shinji Nishiya / Kamui Woods

Villains

Kurogiri

Tomura Shigaraki

Touya Todoroki / Dabi

Chisaki Kai / Overhaul

Himiko Toga 

Haikyuu!! -

Karasuno

Kageyama

Hinata

Tsukishima

Nishinoya

Asahi

Tanaka

Daichi 

Suga

Keishin Ukai

Nekoma

Kuroo

Kenma

Aobajohsai

Iwaizumi

Oikawa

Date Tech High

Aone

Fukurodani 

Bokuto

Akaashi

Shiratorizawa

Ushijima

Tendou

Assassin’s Creed - 

Assassin’s

Ezio Auditore

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

Connor Kenway

Alexios

Jacob Frye 

Yusuf Tazim

Templar’s

Shay Patrick Cormac

Haytham Kenway

John Wick -

John Wick

Fire Force -

Company 1

Leonars Burns

Karim Flam

Rekka Hoshimiya

Huo Yan Li

Company 5

Hibana

Company 7

Benimaru Shinmon

Hikage (Parental)

Hinata (Parental)

Konro Sagamiya

Company 8

Akitaru Obi

Lisa Isaribi

Iris

Maki Oze

Takehisa Hinawa

Shinra Kusakabe

Tamaki Kotatsu

Viktor Licht

Vulcan Joseph

White-Clad

Sho Kusakabe (Parental)

Assault

Other.

Joker

Jujutsu Kaisen -

Yuji Itadori

Megumi Fushiguro

Nobara Kugisaki

Gojo Satoru

Toge Inumaki

Levi Ackermann

Maki Zenin

Sukuna

Aoi Todo

Kento Nanami

Suguru Getou

Toji Fushiguro

Imagines - (Open)

Imagines will consists of a requested or on-the-spot-idea with a gif/pic with a really short story

Oneshots - (Closed)

When sending a request, I will write a 1k-word fic based on requested scenario and character. If I’m really familiar with the character, I may write more to it.

Drabbles - (Closed)

Very much like oneshots but usually consists of less than 700 words.

Headcanons - (Open)

These are really fun to do! Send in a few characters names and I’ll tell you how they’ll likely to react depending to your requested scenario

[gwen-the-assassin]

Check out my Fic!

Child of the Cross: Follows the Story Catherine Cormac, the only daughter of Shay Patrick Cormac. Starting in the year 1770, when a spark of a revolution was about to explode. She will learn the history of her father, and the history of the Assassins after suffering a tremendous loss. 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12660186/1/Child-of-the-Cross

Some of the artwork I did for Catherine, but I am still working on.  Tell me which one is better. 

One thing I want to point out, there are going to be some events that will be different than AC lore and history.  I like to believe that my story has what is known as the butterfly effect that happens during AC Rouge.  Please take that into mind before pointing out different lore facts.

((Please excuse my grammar, I am in the work of re-editing each chapter bit by bit. I could really use good criticism since it has been really hard for me to focus on my edits. THANKS, ADHD!))

[specializedvideotechnologyinc]

Hope and Blood

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the story itself. Please do not copy my work or credit it as your own. The picture above is from @soracormac

Pairing: Shay Cormac x reader

Warning: none

Words: 306

A/N: So this is written for Shay Patrick Day and I honestly never thought this little fic/drabble/ficlet/whatever you want to call it would even exist. But it does. Somehow. Any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism will be welcomed with open arms. That is of course if you have any you are willing to give, of course.

Tagging as many members of the SCDS as I can and reblog to the others if you want: @writingsofawaywardnerd​ @freedomaboveallelse​ @romancingthecreed​ @bunnyyumyum​ @shay-makes-my-luck​ @rooks-and-blighters​ @imakemyownblog​ @blindgeishateahouse​ @jeweledfaith​ @sailingalongchampagneshores​ @thepandadrawer​ @raes-utter-nonsense​ (she isn’t a part of the squad but I know she’s expressed interest in my writing) @shaytham-is-life

Without further ado, I present to you one of the first (but hopefully not last) fics I have written, so enjoy!

She sees the color red everywhere. On her skin and on her clothes. Buried within her was a cold, unsympathetic cylindrical object and she felt it slowly draining the life out of her. Her fingers touched something warm and when she moved her wrist meekly, her eyes watched as red continued to fall into her palm. She could feel that exact same warm liquid, one of the last things keeping her alive, seep from her lips and staining the pavement below her. However she welcomes the feeling it brought her; a sense of relief and comfort.

Strong arms and an Irish jargon scoops her limp body up and holds onto her as she feels her eyelids droop and her breath thinning.

“Hold on, darling. You’ll be alright.” A man’s voice calls out amidst the echoes. Shay.

‘I love that voice,’ she thinks. Memories of waking up next to him, sitting in front of a roaring fire. A boat by a pier, a soft ocean breeze blowing through their hair and joyous laughter. So much laughter.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs with as much energy she could afford to exert. “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. I am so sorry, love.” Shay chokes through a heavy wave of tears as he brought her close in his arms.

“Yes, it is. I’ve lived long enough and I’m glad that I knew you during my time.” She mumbles as blood spews through her lips and onto his shirt.

Darkness began to fold in on her as Shay’s voice cries out for her once more, begging her to keep her eyes open. A ghost of an ambulance siren wailed in the distance as she struggled to breathe.

“I’ve been through enough, darling. Thank you for everything you have done.” She sighed as her eyes closed a final time. “I love you.”

[sweetcocopowder]

Shaytham + " please" for the milestone prompt? 🙏 👀 and congrats!! I absolutely adore your fics!!!

Prompt 7 | Shaytham

Synopsis: Haytham enjoys seeing the Captain of the Morrigan come undone

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Violence. Roughness. Biting. Marking. Grinding. Begging.

Note: This is the last fic of the Lil Milestone Event!! Thank you everyone for sending in requests and I do apologize just how long it took me to spit all these out. Life has been very stressful and this year has taken quite a turn haha. I hope you enjoy this last fic!!!

The Morrigan groans as mortar fire crashes down around her like shooting stars falling from the heavens. One tears through the main sails and ropes snap apart like thunder, slashing across men’s chest and face. Some come out unharmed while some others are less fortunate and thrown backwards into the churning, cold sea. Shay Cormac grinds his teeth as he veers the Morrigan to port so that her cannons are facing the fort. The one that bears it teeth at them with its mortars and cannons.

“FIRE!” Shay cries out above all the chaos.

The boom of the cannons rings in his ear as the ship groans under the pressure. She’ll take it. She always does. The cannon balls hit their mark and a fort tower falls, crumbling into the sea below in a foam of white and blue. The satisfied swell that rises in him is quickly shut down as the destroyed stone reminds him of an all too familiar memory. He looks away, pushing it down and locking it away. He can’t get distracted, not now. Now while his men need him.

It’s not until now, snapping out of the trance he gets lost into that he notices Haytham. The Grandmaster is crouched down behind the railing, holding on for dear life all while holding onto his hat. It’s almost a humorous sight if it wasn’t for Haytham glaring daggers his way. It’s an expression that brings Shay back to himself. Reminding him of why he’s here. Why they’ve travelled so far up the River Valley to take on the fort with the foreshadow of losing men or even themselves.

Shay brings the Morrigan around again, facing her starboard side this time to the fort. Another volley of cannon balls are fired out with the sound of his booming voice shouting the order to do so. This time, only half of them hit their mark. Some strike the mountainous rock behind the fort and others in the water. Shay curses, shouting out to his men once more to reload the cannons as quick as possible. They’ll get this done. The fort will fall today!

With four more rounds of cannon fire and some quick thinking on Shay’s part, the fort groans in ache as the last of her mortars are destroyed. But the fight is far from over. Shay knows that all too well. Docking the Morrigan is a difficult challenge. Survivors of the fort fire their rifles and muskets toward the Morrigan as she docks. They hide behind the rubble of the fort, ducking in and out like groundhogs when they come out to yip before disappearing again.

Before Shay can race into battle, Haytham is quick to grab at his shoulder and drag him to face is intense stare. “We’ll go around the side of the fort! Up to the top!” He bellow over the retuning gunfire of Shy’s crew. “It’ll be quicker to get to the war room that way!”

Shay’s dark brown eyes dart up to the fort, quickly accessing the way up. “Lead the way,” he grins.

Shay doesn’t hesitate to follow his Grandmaster up and over the side of the Morrigan. Gist is quick to clear the way for the two, a bullet shooting one man clean through the eye. Shay praises his first mate under his breath, but doesn’t let himself get too distracted as he follows Haytham up the side of the fort.

The stone walls would normally be impossible to scale up. But with half of the tone tumbled and destroyed, it’s easy to get a grip on stone and bricks that jut out. Haytham rises to the top first and offers a hand down to Shay. He takes it eagerly, letting Haytham help him up over the ledge.

Shay spots the war room easily. It’s just a hop and skip away to their left. The only thing in the way is a guard staring down his rifle at the two in his watch tower. Shay pushes Haytham away as the rifle cracks. The bullet pierces through the collar of Shay’s coat. Too close to call.

The Irishman is quick to pull is own gun on the guard. He can see the fear in the white’s of the man’s eyes before Shay pulls the trigger. He dead before he even hits the ground. Shay swallows thickly as he sets his gun back into it’s holster. He stares at the guard tower, where the man lays dead. Haytham brushes a hand over his elbow, snapping him from his oncoming thoughts.

“On with it,” Haytham snaps.

Getting to the war room is easy enough. It’s the man inside that has both Templars stopping just inside the door. A man armed with two swords grins at them. Shay draws his own, ready for the fight.

But Haytham rolls his eyes. And as the man charges with a vicious shout. He clashes swords with Shay quicker than either Templar would have liked. Shay is pushed back against the door, a fist smashing against his mouth. More taunting than anything else. Shay’s eyes widen with a fierceness akin to bloodlust. But he doesn’t get the sweet taste of killing the man or even hurting him a little.

The man barks out a choked cry as Haytham’s sword is thrust through his back. The tip sticks out of his chest, glinting at Shay. The Grandmaster doesn’t waste time to push the man off of his sword and down onto the ground. He has better things to do than to bother about a man that he doesn’t even know.  

“I do hate the theatrics some men possess,” Haytham drawls out as he reloads his gun.

“What about mine?” Shay asks.

His Grandmaster quirks an eyebrow his way with a frown on his lips. He points his bloody sword towards him. “I tolerate you on good days,” he quips out darkly.

But Shay grins at that as he sheathes his sword. Haytham returns his antics with the slightest of a smile before turning towards the war room’s desk. He’s quick to look over the many papers and reports spread out on the wooden table. He plucks up three pieces of paper before rolling them up in his hand. Tucking them under his arm, he deems this mission a success with a curt nod of his head.

His dark blue eyes land upon Shay’s lip and the cut that bleeds slowly. He steps around the desk and Shay stays where he is, watching Haytham with a curiosity. His Grandmaster swipes a thumb at the blood on his lip, pondering a thought to himself before wiping it on the front of Shay’s coat. Shay watches him intensely, leaning forward a bit as his chest tightens. But Haytham hums to himself, as if satisfied before passing Shay.

“Let’s get out of here,” Haytham concludes.

And Shay follows like some lost pup.

-

Shay unfolds the papers out over his fleet reports for Haytham, letting the Grandmaster look over them first. He hums in satisfaction, his eyes flicking over the coordinates and the set dates for each cargo ship. Shay sits down in his chair with a groan, his face aching every time he clicks his jaw. He tries to get that right spot, but no matter what he does nothing works. The pops of his jaw are loud in the quiet cabin and slowly, they draw the attention of the Grandmaster.

He stops immediately. Instead he leans over the table to pick up a half empty bottle of whiskey without a word. He flicks the top off and he draws over two glasses near him as well. Haytham watches with interest as both glasses are poured with the golden liquid. Shay pushes one glass over to Haytham before he leans back in the chair and nurses his own.

Haytham takes it as his gaze returns back to the reports. Shay tries to make sense of them, his eyes skimming over the words. But he has never been a strong reader having lived on the streets nearly his entire life. Liam tried to teach him, but it took forever to crack it into his brain. He can read per say, it’s just that Gist normally takes over to make things go quicker. It always brings a bound of shame within his chest that makes him angry and frustrated at no one but himself.

“So was all this worth it for the papers?” Shay asks.

“Yes,” Haytham quickly answers. “Routes of their trade and cargo. Supplies we can obtain to keep out of their hands.”

Why his Grandmaster needs these supplies? He won’t ask any further right now. He doesn’t feel all too chatty after having bellowed his throat raw on deck. He clears his throat, feeling the painful scratchiness that only the whiskey seems to smooth over for a few seconds. So he fills his glass once more for that few seconds of relief.

Shay looks to Haytham deep in thought. Wondering what plans and other whatnots are going on up in that head of his. Has he already thought of a plan to take the Morrigan out to intercept these ships? Does he know that they’ll have to stop somewhere to repair the old girl?

Haytham catches him staring, meeting Shay with a raised brow. The Irishman only smiles as he takes another swig of his drink. He pops his jaw again.

“Are you here to distract me?” Haytham asks.

Shay looks around dramatically, suddenly sitting up right in the chair. “Last time I checked this was my quarters,” he remarks cockily.

Suddenly, Haytham’s hand comes to Shay’s thigh, squeezing lightly. He leans over into the Irishman’s space, his eyes on his lips the entire time. Hooded, dark and filled with ill intent.

“And what makes you think I can’t just make you leave?” Haytham asks lowly.

Shay swallows deeply. The adrenaline of the battle hasn’t fully worn off yet and he will admit he is a bit riled up. Shay licks his dry lips and bites it lightly, not missing that Haytham’s gaze watch the action. His Grandmaster must be feeling the same.  

“Because you enjoy my charismatic comments too much,” Shay grins around the lip of the glass before he takes another swig.

Haytham takes the glass from Shay to down the rest of the amber liquid. He sets the glass aside, forgetting about the fleet report for the moment to capture the Irishman’s busted lip in a deep kiss. Shay’s hands are quick to grab a hold of Haytham, unclasping clips and buckles. He doesn’t hesitate to try and get these stupid bulky clothes off of the man. They always hide the Grandmaster’s body and it always annoys Shay to no end. His heavy cloak falls to the floor, his coat coming off shortly after.

Haytham breaks the kiss to bring Shay out of the chair to his feet roughly with his hands fisted into the front of his coat. Shay grins wildly as he’s spun around to be thrown atop of the table. Neither of them care about he many papers and reports that litter the table top. Some of them are pushed aside and they shower to the floor.

None of them take notice as Shay’s groans fill the quarters as Haytham kneads a palm roughly to his groin. It’s a delicious sound that has Haytham palming more to milk them out of the man under him. Shay’s hip rut up into his hand, trying to get more friction than he’s being given. But Haytham stops all together.

“Please,” Shay breathes out.

Haytham hums at that, loving the view before him. Knowing he can have Shay like this at a simple touch. It’s almost intoxicating. He’s quick to undo Shay’s belt and throws it aside without a care. He pushes the man’s vest and shirt up his torso to reveal the body that’s been made with years of hard work and discipline. Haytham’s runs his hands over Shay’s hard stomach, earning him a shaky exhale from him. Beautiful.

“Hmm?” Haytham finally questions.

“Please, I need you,” Shay whines out.

That commanding Captain that was once on deck is gone for the moment. He looks to Haytham with only want and need. Begging for his Grandmaster to do something, anything.

So, Haytham gives him something. He leans forward to plant a kiss to the man’s stomach. His skin is salty with sweat and he can taste gunpowder on him as well. He kiss and laps at his skin all the same, sucking and biting lightly to hitch those noises from Shay’s busted lips. Haytham hooks his fingers into the hem of Shay’s pants as he ventures lower into the man’s snail trail. He bites lightly at the v of the man’s torso, Shay’s hips bucking up lightly with a groan from his throat.

Haytham grins into his pale skin before pulling his pants down to his knees in one swift movement. Shay’s cock is already hard and red. Haytham doesn’t mind it though, he stands up to lean over Shay. He towers over Shay to grab his face so that the man’s dark brown gaze is looking at him and only him. He wedges himself in between Shay’s thighs so that the only touch he’s receiving is the harsh friction of his closing.

He closes the gap to kiss Shay deeply, his tongue invading his mouth to taste the cheap whiskey. Shay moans into the kiss, his hips rutting upwards into Haytham’s crotch to try and earn himself some friction. But a firm hand on his hip holds him down, a thumb digging painfully into the soft skin.

Haytham breaks the kiss to only mouth at Shay’s prickly jaw. He ventures downwards, biting and kissing the Irishman’s neck, collarbones, chest and back down his stomach. Leaving purple and red marks of different shades. And with each one Shay whines and groans, his hooded eyes watching Haytham in a haze.

“Please,” Shay breathes out again, quieter this time.

Haytham smiles as he hovers over the man’s half hard cock. His deep blue eyes look to Shay with adoration. Only because Shay asked so nicely. He does love it when his best man begs like this. It just as delicious as he tastes.

-

Reblog, like and share ;)

[vigilante7657]

Honeymoon Pleasure

Guess what, a Shay Cormac x Reader fic! A request from a wattpad user.

There is Lemon, for once....

New York looks sacred, out on the patio in the bedroom upstairs. The New York air blows your (your hair color) hair, it dances in the wind and sunset. The rays on the light gleam on to your beautiful (Color of your wedding dress) wedding dress, it shakes into the wind. You look at your hand, your symbol of commitment rests on your ring finger. It shines and twinkles, just like the twinkle of your husband, as he kissed at the ceremony. Your husband said he had a surprise for you, as much as he didn’t want to keep you waiting, he insisted he get it for you. Your husband was none other than the broad shouldered and muscled, Shay Patrick Cormac. His tux was nicely tailored, marrying in front of a beautiful lake with rose petals and water lilies. You two had been the worst of times, and even the best, and the two of you have never grown apart. So, when Shay presented the ring that now sits on your finger, you knew you couldn’t tell him no. You felt a destiny with the Colonial Templar. When you two met at the dinner party, when he first saved your life from the thugs in the alley, tp when you needed a place to stay away from your abusive former husband.

Your mind replays back to the wedding. Your mind keeps replaying your new identity: Mrs. Cormac. The wedding was in white color, the traditional standard. All of Shay’s “contacts” where there. Haytham Kenway was Shay’s best man, he led him down the aisle. You were nervous, but your sister kept you calm, you didn’t want to embarrass the man in front of his boss. You watched as Shay’s friend, Charles Lee struggled to get the other Templars to behave themselves, they wanted to already get drunk. Or, at least Thomas Hickey wanted to get drunk, Shay hated him. You and Shay eventually laughed it off. Who invited that drunkard anyway? You laughed as he William Johnson eventually kicked Hickey out. John Pitcairn arranging the vows with the clergyman. The two of you eventually met, face to face. Shay smiled, trying to make sure you were calm. Today was a big day for you. “Do you, Shay Patrick Cormac, take (Your full name.) as you loving wife? To be there for her, in sickness and in health?” You looked at Shay, you were a little nervous. He smiled, and held your hand, “I do.” You take Shay’s hand as well. “And do you, (your name), do you take Shay Patrick Cormac, as your beloved husband. And to be with him, through sickness and in health?” You smile, Shay’s brown eyes gleam. “I do.” “You may now kiss.” Hickey whistled. Johnson literally throws the man out, shoves him down the creek. The two of you share a laugh, and you kiss. The kiss is out of affection, not of of desperation and need. It is gentle, and soft. Unlike your last husband.

You hear the door open and close behind you, you pick your head out of the clouds. “Shay?” “Hello beloved.” He’s excited, like a child. It’s why you feel in love with him. The look of a man, but the heart of a loving child. He’s hiding something behind his back. “Close your eyes, beautiful.” You tilt your head confused, but you close your eyes, trying to sneak a peek though. “No peeking, sweet (your first name).” He chuckles. Then he places something in your hands, it’s light, and it has a handle. He then kisses you on the lips, his tongue swirling with yours. He pulls out, and you open your eyes. It’s a fine handbag, the one you sold to afford money for a stay. You remember it well, kicked out by your divorced ex, staying on the streets, selling your belongings to stay alive and have food. It’s the same purse. “Do you like it? You told me you sold your grandmother’s purse for the money, I know it’s a family tradition. Well, I found a man with the purse, and I bought it from him. “In all honesty, I haven’t actually been on missions for the Order lately, I’ve been trying to look for the purse for you, because I know it means a lot to you. You're in disbelieve, you’ve been constantly on Shay’s mind that he temporarily stopped doing his duties as a Templar? “Shay,” you gasp, “It’s so beautiful, but this must have cost a fortune. How do I accept this?” “Just be at my side, dear, like you’ve always had.” The two of you start kissing, day has turned to night now. The stars twinkle and dance. Shay deepens the kiss, it is soft and smooth. For an aggressive and masculine templar, Shay sure was delicate and gentle with you. You kissed back, you needed the man. Especially on your honeymoon.

Shay interrupts this kiss, there’s a bright light and a loud boom. “Pitcairn pulled through! Go look outside, I have another surprise for you!” The two of you rush outside on the patio, lights burst in the sky. They’re fireworks from China. “Fireworks?!?” You always loved seeing the lights at fancy dinner parties, you remember first meeting Shay at the ball, where you ex husband left you. “Hello Ms. but it looks like you might be lost here without a guide.” Those where Shay’s first words to you. The sky erupts with bursts of blue, green, red, and lavender. “I love you so much, (your name).” His eyes sparkle as bright as the fireworks themselves.

You don’t know what happened then, but you quickly found yourself on the bed, seemingly grappling with Shay. Moaning and kissing filling the room with the sound of elaborate passion and lust. The Butler would be having a field day when he came to clean the room. As Shay positions himself above you, his smooth and yet firm hands crest your cheek. The tender hand brushed into your hair, it is delicate, yet with a hint of dominance. You need Shay, more than you ever thought you would. “Please, Shay.” You moan, as Shay starts sucking on your neck. “OH,” you moan, Shay starts rubbing and feeling your legs. He places a kiss on your right leg. The bed starts creaking, and bouncing as the frame want to fly away. “I want a family with you, (your name), let me be like home to you.” Shay begs. “Please, Shay.” You moan. “Shay’s already undressed, your clothes ripped and thrown on the floor. Shay enters inside you, your walls closing in on you. “So tight,” Shay moans. He starts thrusting, and rocking back and forth. You’ve never felt so much pleasure, he goes in deep and all the way. You grasp his hips, pulling him in closer.  Your hair is all directions. He thrusts slow, and deep. Your breath is quick and uncontrollable. Shay kisses your neck, your sweet spot. Shay then clutches your shoulders, and deepens his kiss. Shay doesn’t want to have sex, he wants to make love to you. Shay feels your torso, and kissed your bosom. You moan as Shay slowly slides his tongue in your mouth. Shay speeds up, your moans coming out as moans of pleasure. “I’m close,” you shriek, as Shay hits your g-spot. “Please, Shay, right there!” Shay smiles, and sucks on your breasts, he thrusts in the same spot, over and over and over. Slow, and deep. You don’t know how much more you can take. “Shay!” You scream as you have your orgasm. Shay fills you with his seed soon after.

By the morning, when Shay brings you breakfast in bed. You slightly struggle to get to your feet. Shay blushes, knowing to be mostly responsible.

@shay-makes-my-luck@waterbird-loves-pasteis@imakemyownblog@freedomaboveallelse@bunnyyumyum@afterglowingassassin@liamobrienswife @thefangirl-that-waited @rooks-and-blighters@writingsofawaywardnerd@callingalltrash@ladysokolov@katey76762

[marshmallow--3]

Oop another St Patrick's Day is rolling around and I still haven't finished the Shay Cormac fic where you meet him at the bar and go back to his ship and fuck

[writingsofanobsessedwoman]

A Love of Steel: Shay Cormac

*contains a mention of suicide and depression*

You hammered away at your latest design. A new hidden blade for Shay. You were one of the best blacksmiths in New York, and it hadn't taken long for the Assassins to notice your work. You were quickly commissioned, learning all the working of the hidden blade, and mastering its design. This particular blade wasn't a requested one, but rather a gift. Shay's birthday was a few days away, and you wanted to give him something special. As you lowered the short blade into the oil, your thoughts turned towards him. Most of the Assassins assumed the two of you were lovers. You were closer than most siblings, and you were hoping you could confess your feelings to the Irishman through this blade.

That was a year ago. Shay, as you'd been told by Liam, had committed suicide after going to Lisbon. It took you months to even try and move on. The blade still sat on your bedside table, finished, but never given to him. You kept it as a reminder of him. After his death, you stopped working for the Assassins altogether, being unable to bear the thought of him no longer being around. But, your work had still caught the attention of people all around New York. Folk constantly poured in, wanting swords and even guns, a recent addition to your mastery. Not only could you forge some of New York's finest weapons, you could also add personal details like names, dates, or sometimes small pictures. Something that kept demand high, and money flowing. You were prosperous, to say the least.

Things had been rather slow so far in the month. You had still sold some pieces, but autumn was usually when things began slowing down. You would usually get a new surge of orders once winter hit, though, with Christmas and all. It was the second of September when a tall man walked in, asking about getting a sword and dagger set made for a friend. A set like that was unusual, to say the least. Most people wanted matching pistols or a single sword, but given the pay, you had no objections. The man, with his smooth British accent, began asking about your custom work. As you explained what you could do, he asked for you to inscribe a name into the sword, Cormac. You tried to hide the shock on your face as you scribbled it down into your notes. The man had also wanted it done by September 12th, and delivered to Fort Arsenal that morning, something you were happy to do.

It took you around two weeks, and you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't proud of the pieces. Both blades shone, and were sharp enough to cut through just about anything. You'd inscribed Cormac through the sword, choosing to add the cross design to the dagger. As you neared the fort, the sound of a party reached your ears. You could see a ship docked nearby, but chose not to pay much mind to it. As you went to knock on the door, the man who had ordered the set came around, asking you to follow him. You complied, and rounded the corner. The smell of liquor and beer slapped your nose, and music was being played by a small band of people. The man walking with you, whose name was Haytham as you found out, called out to the rowdy men to grab their attention. They all stopped, and began walking over. Haytham scanned them all, before asking a simple question: "Where is Shay?" Shay? You thought. This has to be some strange coincidence. They all stayed quiet for a moment, before one finally spoke up, replying with, "Inside, sir." Haytham turned to you, and apologized, asking you once more to follow him.

He led you inside, and once he reached a specific door, Haytham knocked. An Irish brogue answered, giving permission to enter. A man with dark brown hair looked up, and froze when he met your (E/C) eyes. He stood slowly, walking up to you as if you'd run away if he moved too quickly. Haytham, now thoroughly confused, broke the silence. "Do you know her/him, Shay?" he asked. "Aye do. But I fear he/she doesn't quite recognize me, sir. (Insert a nickname)," he addressed you. Tears began flooding your eyes. Shay was the only one you ever let get away with calling you that. Anyone else got a punch. "Oh, don't cry. I'm here," he cooed. You were sobbing now. "I- I thought-," you stuttered. Shay wiped away your tears, pulling you to his chest. "I promise lass/lad, I'll explain everything. I'm not leaving you. Ever. Not again." You could hear resolve in his voice. You pulled away from his chest, only for him to grab your cheek, and pull you into a kiss. One turned to several, and you only separated when Haytham cleared his throat. Your face flushed more than you thought was possible, and Shay had the widest smile on his face. You remembered his gift, held in Haytham's hands. Haytham gave you a knowing look, passing the leather wrapped blades to you. Before he excused himself, he sighed, saying, "Perhaps it's better you give him this. And don't keep us waiting for too long, Captain Cormac." Shay blushed, but turned to you. You revealed his new blades to him, and his eyes filled with wonder. For a moment, anyway. He set them onto his desk, and pulled you into another kiss, and another, and another. Not even the band in the courtyard could play loudly enough to cover the noise.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAY PATRICK CORMAC!!!!

[sweetcocopowder]

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

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

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

Thank you

Prompt 4 / Shaytham

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

Word Count: 2.4K

Warning: Violence. Blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, aye,” Shay mocks.

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

“That was foolish of you,” Haytham comments.

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

“Getting stabbed?” Shay asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To that, Shay’s grin only grows wider.

-

:)