#connor kenway x gn!reader

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

hello!! can you please write a drabble for connor with an s/o who just finished their last final, and now they just want to nap and cuddle with him? gender neutral please! thank you!!

05/03/2024: Hello! First ask of the year! I certainly can try, friend! Thanks for your undying patience! Shit has happened, bros, but I've just been re-reading my old fics and they've brought me some long lost joy, so I am trying to make a comeback! (Please reblog this so people know I'm posting again -- with evidence!) This is a perfect thing to write on the day of my exam results (we passed, guys!) so now I can reflect on the traumatising experience that was exam season.

The Complete Masterlist

Finally (Connor x GN!Reader)

You put down your pen with a sigh of relief.

Finally, it was all over.

These last few weeks were torture; hours of studying a day, taking a break only to eat or to steal some hours of restless sleep. Your brain fried while you studied, and you half wondered how you made it through exam season alive.

A few hours ago, you were on the verge of throwing up your breakfast. Now, as you turned the lock to your apartment door, you could only feel intense fatigue. Gentle noises from the kitchen put a smile on your face. Connor was never a loud person, in both words and actions.

"I'm back," you announced, entering the kitchen to find Connor making two cups of tea.

"Y/n," he greeted with a reassuring smile. "How was it?"

"Not terrible, but could've been better," you shrugged. At this point, you really couldn't care. It was over, and that's all that mattered. A yawn overcame you. "Tired now, though."

Connor nodded, pouring water from the freshly boiled kettle. "I made us some tea. What would you like to do to celebrate?"

You thanked him gratefully, moving to take your favourite mug off of the counter. "Honestly? Can we go back to bed for a while? I want to sleep these past few weeks off."

"Of course." He followed you as you led the way to your shared bedroom. Teas placed on the bedside counters, you changed into some comfier clothes and all but collapsed into bed. Connor climbed in with slightly more tact, and you crawled into his arms. He pulled you close with one hand and opened a book he was reading with the other.

His thumb gently traced the skin of your arm, soothing and constant. It wasn't long before your eyelids began to close, fluttering in time to his heartbeat.

Sleep came soon after.

[holyeaglecupcakesposts]

Use his audio to help him get the care he needs he's badly injured. So, if you can, share and donate if you can.

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Is that my shirt?

Connor Kenway / Ratonhnhaké:ton x gn reader drabble

350 words

“Connor, is that my shirt?”

He froze in his tracks; unmoving and unblinking like a deer right before it flees. “... perhaps.”

I burst out laughing, nearly doubling over with the force of it. Even after it became hard to breathe I couldn't stop. He stared at me, blinking once and totally dumbfounded as I regained a semblance of composure.

“You look like if somebody stuffed too much meat into a sausage, and it's about to pop.” I chuckle and continue “we may be similar heights, but love you are built like a barn.” I gently put my hand on his shoulder and looked at him with so much love in my eyes.

“It couldn't be helped. I had to wash the blood off my coat, It's drying now. It would have looked suspicious if I went all the way back to the homestead covered in blood.” He looks away like a kid caught in a cookie jar.

I have to hold back another fit of laughter. I don't know how it's possible for a man the size of a bear to look so cute. “I wouldn't mind if you ran around without a shirt on.” I shrugged. I adore watching the flashes of emotions that cross his normally stoic face. Features hardened by tragedy that soften for just a moment. Expressions that are for my eyes only.

“... I'll keep that in mind for next time.” I can see he's looking for an escape route. Quickly I grab his hand to keep him from running away.

“It'll be nice having my shirt smell like you for a little while.”

“What do you mean?” My question clearly took him by surprise.

“You smell like pine and iron. It never fails to put me at ease. Familiar… I miss it when you're not around.” I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. “It'll be nice having that comfort, if only for a little while after you leave.”

I could only see a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it was there, and just for me to see.

[defectivevillain]

a fateful encounter

pairing: Ratonhnake:ton/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors used.

summary: There’s a sound behind you—a startled inhale of breath. You whip around, only to find a man staring at Lee’s corpse in disbelief. His eyes are shining with some complex emotion as he scrutinizes the body, evidently looking for signs of life. “He’s dead.” You say, your voice sounding a bit raspy. The man takes a step closer and the dim light illuminates his form, revealing brown skin splattered with blood, warm brown eyes, and a hulking form with unnaturally broad shoulders.

Ratonhnhaké:ton finally corners Charles Lee, only to realize someone else has found him first.

word count: 2k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence, death

author's notes: The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

Huge shoutout to @connorhasabigtip, who was nice enough to beta read the fic I wanted to surprise her with. LOLL. Love u <3333 Any remaining mistakes are mine — I've only skimmed playthroughs of this game.

Charles Lee is a difficult man to track down. You’ve been pursuing him for at least a year now—watching him from the shadows, learning of his whereabouts through hushed conversations in the dead of night. Despite his reputation, he is exceedingly slippery. But, finally, after all this time, you’ve finally found him. 

You’ve prided yourself on your abilities and, while Lee is a Templar himself, his skills are no match for yours—not when your stealth gives you the first blow. From there, it’s an increasingly desperate fight: as Lee fights for his life and you fight to spill his blood across the ground. When you finally get him down to the ground, you are quick to stab him through the heart. He has tried to speak several times now throughout your fight, but you haven't given him so much as a moment of your attention. There is nothing worthwhile for him to say, after all. His words are about as valuable to you as the gravel scattered across the ground. 

You crouch over him now, watching the life leave his eyes. He twitches and attempts to grab your knife, which only spurs you to lodge it even deeper in his chest. Blood splatters across his chest and marks your knife, your skin. There is nothing except a hollow satisfaction running through your veins as he promptly slumps on the ground. 

You push yourself to your feet and stare down at him, several different emotions running through you all at once. Your knife is still lodged in his chest; after a moment’s contemplation, you yank it out and hold it in a tight grip. Lee’s blood drips down the glittering blade, coloring the ground below a muted crimson. 

There’s a sound behind you—a startled inhale of breath. You whip around, only to find a man staring at Lee’s corpse in disbelief. His eyes are shining with some complex emotion as he scrutinizes the body, evidently looking for signs of life. 

“He’s dead.” You say, your voice sounding a bit raspy. The man takes a step closer and the dim light illuminates his form, revealing brown skin splattered with blood, warm brown eyes, and a hulking form with unnaturally broad shoulders. You feel yourself taking a small step back before you can stop yourself. He’s wearing the uniform of an Assassin. 

“How?” He asks. He’s staring right at the wound in Lee’s chest, yet it’s as if he isn’t really seeing it at all. 

You stare at the man for a moment. “I killed him.” You thought that would be obvious by now, given the bloody knife in your hand and your proximity to his corpse. Then again, this man doesn’t look to be in the best condition: he’s staggering on his feet and bleeding in several different places. It seems to take him several moments to process your answer; once he does, he’s kneeling down and checking Lee’s pulse. It’s a futile effort: the vacant gloss over his eyes is enough of an indicator. 

“He’s dead.” The man restates, as if needing to utter it aloud. You watch in worried bewilderment as he blinks dazedly, before falling to the ground. He manages to catch himself from completely colliding with the floor, but he looks almost entirely out of it. There’s a sheen of sweat over his skin and you have to wonder if one of his wounds is infected. You swear under your breath. You can’t just leave this guy here, next to Charles Lee’s dead body. 

Huffing in annoyance, you crouch down to get a closer look at the guy. He’s huge —with broad shoulders and a figure that must be at least halfway past six feet tall. How in the hell are you going to get him out of here? You have a small safehouse nearby, fortunately—but it’ll be difficult to get him there. Taking a slow breath, you manage to pull the guy up and get him into an awkward position where his arm’s slung around your shoulders. He seems a little delirious, but conscious enough to not drag his feet and at least attempt to walk with you. 

Indeed, the walk to your safehouse takes twice as long as normal. By the time you’re safely behind closed doors, you can just barely get the guy onto your bed before you’re grasping at your sides and breathing heavily. You’re not sure how long you spend attempting to stabilize your breathing before the man lets out a pained groan and breaks you out of your thoughts. 

Now that he’s still, you can see the sheer amount of damage that’s been done to him. There are scratches and scrapes all over his face, and several worrying bloodstains scattered across his tattered clothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, once again second-guessing your actions. You could’ve left this man where you found him, and no one would have been any wiser. What compelled you to help him? 

You shake your head before focusing on the task at hand: cleaning his wounds. After quickly treating the minor ones, you decide to concentrate on the wound at his side. It’s abundantly clear that he’ll need stitches. You can only hope he’s unconscious enough not to notice the pain. And that must be the case—either that or he’s just exhausted —because he doesn’t so much as flinch when you begin to stitch the rather nasty gash. 

By the time you’re finished, the sun has almost come up on the horizon. What should you do now? You have things to do—you can’t spend your day watching over this guy and abandoning your duties. You contemplate the thought for several moments. Honestly, you can only hope he isn’t a malicious or overly curious person, and that you won’t return to your safehouse to find it torn apart or on fire. After far too many minutes spent in deliberation, you decide to leave him to heal. With any luck, he’ll still be unconscious when you get back. You can decide what to do with him then.  

Fortunately, when you return in the late evening, your safehouse appears unharmed. Unfortunately, you’ve sustained some wounds from your mission—leaving you to walk somewhat unsteadily towards your inconspicuous cabin on the outskirts of the woods. Is the man from last night awake yet? You think you see light peeking from the curtains, but that could easily be your imagination. Your hands trembling, you manage to unlock the door and close it behind you—only for your heart to jump out of your chest as you nearly crash into the man from earlier. 

He appears a lot better, his clothing miraculously (and mysteriously) clean and his posture unburdened by injury. “You healed me. Why?” He cuts right to the chase, staring at you as if trying to discern your motivations from your facial expression. He seems slightly frustrated when you just blink at him. After a few seconds, he must sense that you’re unwilling to answer, because he sighs and abandons the question. There’s a beat of silence as he studies you, evidently noticing the tension written across your shoulders, the blood splattered across your clothes, and the dazed wariness of your gaze. 

“You seem to be doing better.” You remark, not bothering to answer his question. Maybe if you can just slip past him- 

“You healed me.” He repeats himself, making no indication that he’s even heard your prior remark. Is kindness such a foreign concept to him? You don’t have time to contemplate the question before he’s continuing to speak. “Allow me to return the favor.” 

You sigh, knowing you don’t really have a choice. You point him to your medical supplies and take a seat on your bed; meanwhile, the man grabs the supplies and returns to your side, looking at you hesitantly. His hands are extended mid-air, as if he was going to pull up your shirt before thinking better of it. Then he takes a step backwards and averts his eyes, embarrassed. 

Feeling both amused and strangely self-conscious, you tug your shirt up enough to reveal the gash stretching across your side. Your guest seems to relax, crouching down and beginning to clean it off. There’s an uncomfortable tension that settles in the air, filling the cabin with nothing but an awkward silence. 

Finally, after what feels like far too long, the man speaks. “Why did you kill Lee?” He asks, his attention honed in on your wound. Even so, it’s hard not to notice the furrow to his brows. 

“Why were you after him?” You ask instead. Neither of you seem willing to disclose too much, and this conversation is only becoming more circular by the moment. The man seems to recognize this, as his nose scrunches and he looks momentarily bothered. Then he shakes his head and begins to place some ointment on your side. 

“He was a threat to freedom,” he responds ambiguously. 

You study him for a long moment, attempting to discern his intentions. Something about his unapologetic honesty compels you to show him the same. “A spirit guided me to him.” You admit, remembering how the Isu came to you in a dream and implored you to neutralize the threat. 

“... A spirit spoke to me as well,” he admits after a beat. You watch him swallow and reach for the bandages, wrapping them around your waist and securing them tightly. His eyes wander across your form once more—as if searching for more injuries—before he finally stands up again. You didn’t realize how much his proximity was affecting you; now that there’s some distance between you, you feel as if you can breathe again. 

Still, despite your initial skepticism, this man went so far as to help you. He could’ve easily slipped out while you were away, never to be seen again. But something compelled him to stay—to heal you from your injuries, just like you helped him. “Thank you.” You say begrudgingly. He nods and you feel your curiosity returning. “What’s your name?” You blurt out before you can help yourself. 

“...Connor.” He volunteers eventually, after an inexplicable few seconds of silence. You raise a brow and he takes a slow breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “That is the name my mentor gave me.” He explains. There’s a lingering trace of frustration pulling his lips firm. 

“What’s your real name, then?” You ask. The man seems genuinely surprised that you’ve asked, as his eyes momentarily widen before he’s hiding his emotions behind a calm mask. 

He studies you for a moment. “Ratonhnhaké:ton yónkyats.” He then responds, the slightest hint of a quirk to his lips. “My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton.” He supplements. 

Somehow, you feel as if he is showing you a tremendous amount of trust by giving you his true name. “Ratonhnhaké:ton.” You repeat, mimicking his pronunciation. He nods and you feel a smile growing on your own face. You introduce yourself in response, copying the Kanien'kehá:ka greeting he used. 

His gaze is intense as he stares at you. You can only begin to wonder just what he’s thinking. 

“Thank you.” Ratonhnhaké:ton then says sincerely, after several moments of silence. He shifts his balance and crosses his arms again. 

“We’re even now.” You respond with a hesitant smile, gesturing to the bandages around your side. Ratonhnhaké:ton smiles ever so slightly in response. He turns his back, as if ready to depart. You hear yourself speaking before you can think any better of it. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” He asks, turning around to look at you imploringly. 

For your village, for your mother. For killing Lee before you could get to him. You settle for staring at him helplessly. Ratonhnhaké:ton seems to sense your thoughts, because he nods knowingly. 

“Charles Lee is dead.” He says, with a finality in his voice that he hadn’t possessed last night. “That is all I could have hoped for.” With that parting remark, the man leaves you to your conflicted thoughts. Even as days pass and your wounds begin to fade, the memory of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s touch remains.

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I will reject the request if I am not comfortable writing it ^^

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[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

thinking about an early morning at the homestead. the air is cool now, the sun barely awake, stretching high in the east.

you find Connor at the stables, tending to his horse. A beautiful chestnut, he holds her hoof as he tends to it, carefully lifting out the sole and trimming the frog.

his arms are trusting and secure; he won’t drop her, and she knows this. he releases her when she grows restless, allowing her to stretch out her leg before it’s back between his knees, finishing the job at a faster pace so she can be comfortable again.

he finishes and stands up, stretching his back. His hand moves up her back to her neck. a sugar cube is produced, and she eats it gratefully.

he looks up and regards you with a soft, dewy look: a natural smile blooms across his features. “Good morning,” he whispers when you stand beside him, as if it’s too early to speak normally.

“You’re up early.” You give his mare a friendly stroke, and she nickers.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Although he looks at ease, you can see the bags under his eyes.

moving behind him, you sit on the gate, your hands resting on his shoulders. As soon as you begin massaging the knots in his muscles, a groan leaves his throat. “You’re so tense. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s… the usual.” you feel the pops under your fingers, Connor’s almost pained sounds telling you how much he needs it.

you frown at his words, at a loss for methods of comfort. “I’m sorry,” is what you settled on. “I wish I could help.”

“You are helping,” he breathes, shoulders dropping finally. they move with ease now, as if you had lifted the weight of the world from them. “Thank you.”

you wrap your arms over his shoulders and across his chest, pulling him into you. he caresses the skin on your forearms with a thumb as you rest your chin on the crown of his head. you both stare into the clouds of dawn, young sunlight on your faces. the mist of the night is rising from the grass, refracting daybreak across the grounds. “Is this what peace is?” you ask him, mumbling into his freshly washed hair. hibiscus and lavender.

he sighs contentedly. “this… is better. this is what I imagine when I look into your eyes.”

a bashful giggle escapes you. kissing his head, you pull him impossibly closer. “Hmm, your eyes are just as peaceful; they’re kind, and homely.”

he turns his head to look at you, lips inches apart. you both smile at each other, eyes crinkling. a soft and gentle peck sparks a firework in your soul. he’s still tracing circles on your forearm, forehead resting against yours. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you.”

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Hello there!I really love your blog!Can i request Connor,Haytham and Desmond reacting on their S/O being killed by their enemy, please?:³

29/01/2022: Anon, I apologise in advance for breaking your heart. (What? No, I'm not procrastinating on my work, what are you talking about? /j)

Reminder that requests are closed until the summer! I'm just trying to empty my inbox before any new requests come in, so please don't send any until my blog description says that they're open! Thank you all for your continued support and for sticking around during my semi-hiatus (despite the fact that I am most definitely procrastinating from my work -- don't do what I do, kids) <333

So Desmond’s is similar to THIS post because I just can’t see him reacting in any other way lmao and i honestly didn’t realise I made them basically identical at the beginning.

And like, if you wanna request more angst 👉👈🥺… haha jk… 😅unless…🥺😏 /hj

Warnings: Character death, angst, super sad times, blood mention, serious injuries, canon typical violence, etc, slightly unedited

How Haytham, Connor, and Desmond React to Their S/O Being Killed by Their Enemy

Haytham

A defected Templar thought it would be a good idea to use the Grandmaster’s partner as leverage.

A mistake that cost him deeply.

Yet, he succeeded.

The situation was chaotic, unstable. Haytham lost control of the room as soon as he opened his mouth.

The emotions, the anger… any semblance of calm negotiation was thrown off the table when he saw you.

“A quick death, or a slow one?” The traitor indicated each choice by pointing a knife to your throat or your stomach.

“I’m warning you.” His voice rumbled in restrained rage.

He almost had you. He almost saved you.

The door of the building burst open; they were here to help.

Haytham shared one look with the one balancing your life in his hands.

And with one sharp movement, chose your death for him.

Haytham’s pistol went off.

He missed. Leaving him to be pursued by the others, he ran to your side.

“Y/n.” Words left him in a whisper.

“Oh, my darling…” Haytham brushed hair out of your eyes, cupping your face.

Looking between your pained expression and its source, he heaved out an anxious breath.

“We’re going to get you help, alright? A doctor is on his way.”

“Haytham, it hurts…”

“I know. I know it does. I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

“You did all you could. I’m glad I could spend… my last moments… with you.”

“But the opera tomorrow… You mustn’t miss that.”

“I’ll still be there,” you smiled, tears in your eyes.

“I love you, Kenway.”

“And I love you.”

He pressed his lips to your nose softly, your last breath kissing his skin.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, but they were not yours.

Connor

“Connor?! Connor, move!”

He turned around as you jumped in front of him, a gunshot ringing out.

You couldn’t move the brick house, so you parked yourself in front of it.

He didn’t know what had happened for a moment when you grasped his shoulders.

But he took in the shock on your face, the distant glint of a rifle on a rooftop…

As you collapsed against his chest, he dropped his tomahawk, pulled out his pistol and fired a true shot. The man fell from the rooftop.

Connor held you against him and sank to his knees.

“Are you hurt?” you breathed.

“No, I’m… I’m okay -- you’re bleeding. Why…”

He kept pressure on the wound, grasping you tightly. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way the sun rays caught in his hair. “What do I do?”

“Stay with me.”

He broke, then. One of the rare moments tears fell from his cheeks.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

He taught you to say that. Oh, the name never sounded so bittersweet.

“I’ll be watching over you.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t… I have no one else.”

“I won’t leave you. Not really.”

Inches away from his jaw, you strained to press your lips to his skin.

Soft and gentle, like your soul.

He focused on the aftershocks on his skin, terrified that the feeling will be lost with you.

Your body grew heavy as he sensed the moment you had moved on.

He pulled you impossibly closer.

“Konorónhkwa, Y/n/n.”

His body was silent, but his grief was loud.

Desmond

Disaster struck in two seconds.

Anything other than perfection means death.

For you, that meant the wound in your side could have been prevented if you had taken cover sooner.

“Y/n, look out!”

Why did you have to think about it?

BANG!

“Uh, Des?”

“Oh, shit!”

The ground cooled your flushed skin.

“Y/n, Y/n, hey, hey, hey…” Desmond slid to you and cradled your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? You’re gonna be fine.” His words were tumbling out of his mouth at such a speed, you almost couldn’t comprehend them.

He carefully maneuvered you into his arms. “I need some help over here!” He pressed his hand against the bloodstain of your shirt.

You regarded his face; the agony was easy to read, and your heart couldn’t help but constrict painfully in your chest.

“I’m fine… I‘m sorry.” You tried to get up.

“No, no! Don’t move. I don’t want it to get worse.” Desmond held onto you tighter. “Shaun! Rebecca!”

“We have a bit of a situation, Desmond!” Shaun’s voice was distant.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you have a situation?!”

Your head leaned a bit too heavily into his shoulder.

“No, no, no, Y/n, hold on. Please.” He pushed harder against the wound.

“Holy fuck.” Rebecca came into view, fresh from the conflict moments before. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s all gonna be okay. We just gotta stop the bleeding. Desmond, move your hand.”

He swallowed before speaking, sickened at how almost all his skin was stained crimson. “Okay, okay, okay.”

Rebecca was ready with a first aid kit she found in the corner; pros of getting shot in an office.

She swiftly replaced Desmond’s hand with gauze. He pressed down over it again. “You’re gonna be okay, now, Y/n/n. You’re gonna be…” his voice cracked, a lump sinking into his throat. His tears have been silent up to now.

Rebecca glanced at the blood surrounding them. It was pooling, soaking their jeans. “Shaun, get the fuck over here!”

It took a second longer for Shaun to get into view, a hard drive in his hand. “Sorry for the wait, the killing and the downloading took-- Oh, Christ!” He sank beside Rebecca, feeling your forehead.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

Desmond sent him a glare before focusing back on you.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

Rebecca was quick to follow Shaun, a protest at her lips. “That’s a fucking stupid idea! You know why we can’t do that…”

It didn’t matter. Desmond knew they had run out of time.

“Hey, Y/n? Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Nothing was wrong, everything was fine.

In your half-conscious state, you cracked a smile. “You… You tell me all the time.”

“Yeah? Well, I love you more than anything. It’s true, I do.”

“I love you more…”

He released a stressed sigh, a sorrowful upturn on his lips as he shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

You slowly raised your hand to his cheek. “You’ll be okay, Des… without me.”

“Hey, no, no, don’t you ever say that. We’ll get you out of here, and then we’ll go grab a beer or something.”

Wiping the tears from his cheek, your eyes locked with his. “No time.”

“Oh shit. Desmond, we gotta go!”

The light of sirens painted across his face. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” He began to shift you into his arms so he could carry you. “Just let me adjust for a sec…”

“Des, Des, stop.” You grabbed the front of his hoodie, halting his frantic movements. “Go.”

“We are!”

“Let me go, Desmond.”

He froze for a moment. “Nope. No, nonono, no way. You’re not pulling that shit with me.”

“I don’t want to die… knowing that you were spending the rest of your life in jail.”

“Please, please, Y/n, I can’t leave you.”

“You have to. Live for me.”

Your hand slowly released its grip, falling to your stomach.

“No, no, hey!” He lowered you to the floor, leaning over you. He cradled your vacant face with both hands. “Don’t do this. Don’t you dare leave me.”

His forehead touched yours, gentle but firm. “Please.”

___________________________________________________________

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[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Angsty HCs about Connor, Shay, Alexios, and Haythem if they were to betrayed by there s/o. And with no choice to defend themselves they kill her, how do they react?

07/05/2021: Hi, Anon! I’m so sorry this took almost a year, but now inspiration is beginning to strike so I’m dusting off these requests! Lowkey had inspiration for if it was the other way around…  O.o (the bidding starts at one ‘yes’)

Connor, Shay, Alexios, and Haytham: Betrayed by their S/O [+ Ezio, Edward, and Jacob in Reblog]

Connor:

“How could you?”

Uh oh, he knows. 

“Look, Connor, it’s nothing personal--”

You trailed off your original point as his expression hardened. 

“No.” He turned away at your coarseness.

“You need to be dealt with. Boss’ orders. Can’t argue with the one who pays me.” You took a step forward, watching as he moved back. 

“I didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they did, but no one can change the past. We can change the future, though.”

And with that, you took a swing at him. 

Blocking your weapon, he stepped aside. 

You tried again, with the same result.

“Are you going to fight me back, or…?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way; you know that.” He was still soft with you, still gentle.

You continued your assault, anger and guilt building when he refused to fight back. 

“I’m not fighting you, Y/N.”

Sweeping your legs under his, you fell on top of him, forcing your knife toward his neck.

“That makes it easier for me, then.” 

There was an internal emotional toil in his eyes as he watched you, the one that he loved, act toward him with such animosity. 

“I’m sorry.” Instead of just blocking you, he flipped you and the knife over. He looked at you one last time before turning away, closing the distance between the blade and your neck. 

He heard the life leave you, but couldn’t bear to look. 

He gave you a proper funeral, not as Y/N the traitor, but as Y/N his lover.

Shay:

(excuse the duo gif there)

You led him into a trap. 

As soon as he saw an assassin loitering in the rafters, he knew what you did. 

After dealing with his potential killer, he went to find you.

He turned the corner of a street, finding you leaning against the brick wall, no doubt a rendezvous point. 

Your shocked face did nothing but confirm his suspicions. 

“Shay. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Or tomorrow, it seems. And the day after that, and the day after that. I know what you are.” 

Exhaling through your nose, you watched as he stormed towards you. “I’m sorry, Shay, but you don’t understand.”

“I think I do.” 

Your heart hurt at the pain in his eyes, but you pushed past your feelings. “Switch sides. Come back to me; come back to the Brotherhood.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

“... So be it.”

Out of nowhere, you procured a knife, and almost succeeded in hitting your target. 

Shay dodged backwards, grabbing your arm, shock ridden.

“I love you,” he pleaded.

“And I loved you.” 

And there, in the back alley, you had your final battle. 

As a hidden blade unsheathed, a winner was revealed.

Gasping, you held onto him as he lowered you to the floor, pulling you into his lap.

“Congratulations, Shay. You win.”

He sighed, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “I wish it were different.”

Choking, you whispered back. “Me too.”

Alexios:

“It was you? But… why?!”

You were caught planning with Deimos. A stupid mistake. 

“I’m sorry, Alexios. I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

His gentle approach did nothing but annoy you. 

“Not this time.”

You unsheathed your weapon. 

“Please, don’t do this.” 

“Alexios, I have to.”

Your first attack caught him off guard, barely giving him enough time to grasp your wrist. “Stop, Y/N.”

Each attack became harder to deflect; it was only a matter of seconds until blood would shed. “Please, Y/N.”

The spear fell into his hand, and without thinking, he struck his attacker. 

Everything paused. 

Blood spilt. 

Knees hit the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, holding you in his arms. 

“No, I am.” You smiled, a grief in your eyes.

Haytham:

“I should’ve known it would come to this.”

You watched as he relaxed in his chair, seemingly at ease in the presence of a revealed assassin.

“You can’t know everything, I suppose.” Playing with your hidden blade, you eyed him carefully. 

“You were good. Too good,” he admitted.

“Surprise!” The dryness in your tone amused him. 

“I suppose we should get this over with,” he sighed. 

Standing, Haytham unsheathed his own weapon. “Please, after you.”

Your blade struck out. 

Quickly deflecting, he knocked you off balance and spun you around, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

With a knife to your neck, he nearly whispered. “Don’t make me do this, darling.” 

“You don’t have to, Haytham. Let me go.”

You heard him intake a quivering breath. “Don’t play games with me,” he growled, emotion dripping in his tone.

“It’s you or me, Haytham. Make a decision.” 

He didn’t have to.

A gunshot rang out, and tears began to escape as your body went limp in his arms.

Charles Lee had snuck in, a smoking pistol outstretched.

“You shouldn’t hesitate with assassins, Haytham.”

He carefully lowered you to the floor and watched you for a moment. 

Then, standing up, he stepped over you, wiping the liquid from his face.

There was no room for him to be emotionally compromised in front of Lee.

Later that night, he wrapped your body neatly, and left it near an assassin’s hideout. 

He could barely bring himself to look at you as you were, let alone bury you.

When in bed that night, his body was still, but tears streaked down his cheeks as he stared at the wall. 

That was his routine then, and every night since. 

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Hey if you're comfortable writing this sort of thing, could you do reactions for the reading getting hurt really bad? For Desmond, Ezio, Shaun, Connor and Shay please? X

Anon, this be my jam *cracks knuckles* Love stuff like this lmao. I will be having a great time writing this. Though, I’m not gonna lie, I feel like it’s missing something, but I can’t think of what it is for the life of me. Hope you enjoy it!

How the Assassins react to their S/O Getting Badly Injured

Ezio

Being notorious is not very useful.

Neither is being ambushed by guards.

You’re both quickly overwhelmed, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right?

Wrong.

You gather a bit of distance between you and your opponent, lining up for a shot, but they get there first.

A ringing shot echoes through the street.

Your body crumples to the floor before the sound dies away. 

Although Ezio notices straight away, he doesn’t allow himself to get distracted. 

He can’t afford to.

His face contorts into focused anger, because how dare they?

He deals with the threat quickly.

Before the last guard could hit the floor, he’s by your side.

The bullet is lodged in your side, and it’s agony to move. 

“Stay with me, tesoro.”

He pulls off his cape and presses it against the wound.

On the outside, he’s relatively calm; he’s learned to deal with these situations with his brain rather than his heart. 

On the inside, however, he’s probably screaming.

“Can you walk?”

You tried, but ended up heaving more weight on him than was worth it.

He picked you up swiftly, and sprinted to the closest doctor.

As they treat your wound behind closed doors, he paces. 

He can hear the thrumming of his heart in his ears, and there’s a certain anxiety squeezing it that he just can’t shake. 

He doesn’t rest until he knows that you can make it through the night. 

Connor

You were hunting with Connor when a twig snapped.

You turned, thinking it was game.

It wasn’t.

You never found out what it was, because as soon as you heard a ft, a pain began to blossom in your chest.

An arrow had pierced itself between your ribs, and you found yourself gasping laboured breaths against a tree. 

Not a man to react with words, Connor catches you before your knees give out, arms securely wrapping around you. 

He had no idea where it came from, but the threat had disappeared before he could notch his own arrow.

He breaks the wooden shaft, leaving the head inside you to prevent bleeding. 

“Don’t close your eyes, Y/N/N. Please stay awake for me.”

He’s frightened at the blood that drips from your lips as you cough. 

He holds you against him as he rides back to the Homestead, screaming for Achilles to help him as soon as he boots the door down.

He wants to help.

He needs to help.

Achilles makes it down the stairs in time for Connor to set you down on the table. 

“Achilles, what do I do?”

As he instructs, Connor gets to work.

He does everything Achilles says down to the letter.

As he treats you, he’s so focused that he doesn’t notice that his hands are shaking; furious small tremors that speak more than his words. 

Achilles notices, but doesn’t dwell on it.

There are a lot more important things to be thinking about.

Shay

“Y/N-- can you hear me?”

He watched it all happen in slow motion; the rearing, the bucking, the gunshots, the fall...

Your legs were trapped under your dead mare, and your shoulder was engulfed in a pool of crimson blood.

“Jesus...”

“I’m... okay.”

Yeah, that sounded convincing.

He managed to shift the horse off of you enough to pull you out. 

He could feel your muscles quivering, and he tried to treat the wound as best he could. 

You leaned into him, relaxing into his chest a bit too much for his liking in a situation like this. 

He ripped the fabric covering your shoulder and held a cleaner cloth around it. 

He tried to stay calm as he watched the entire cloth turn red within a few seconds.

“Aye; you’re going to be just fine.”

Don’t be fooled; he’s freaking out.

He’s reassuring himself more than you.

Shaun

(Ignore the subtitles lmao -- I just preferred Syndicate!Shaun and this one was the only one w/o Rebecca in it lmao)

All he sees is the one he loves fall to their knees.

“No, NO!”

He heaves you against him as blood leaks through your fingers. 

“Stay with me, Y/N/N, please.”

He puts pressure on the wound in the middle of your stomach. 

Your head begins to lull back, and his heart lurches. 

“Stay awake for me. Please.”

Desmond

A gunshot went off, a pain blossomed in your stomach, and agony began to spread.

“Uh, Des?” You choked on blood, collapsing.

“Oh, shit!”

This man will vault over everything in his path if it means he can get to you within five seconds.

“Y/N, Y/N, hey, hey, hey...”

His hands come to cradle your face and tap your cheek, an attempt to bring you back to reality.

He lifts your upper body into his arms; he can feel his blood running cold when he gets little to no response. 

“Please stay with me, Y/N.” 

His hand covers a growing crimson circle in the middle of your torso.

You’re still breathing, but only just.

“Can I get some help over here?!” 

His voice cracked, panic slipping through.

He can barely breathe as you continue to drift in and out of consciousness. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, you hear me? You’re gonna be fine...”

He’d argue that he was talking to you to keep you calm, but the truth is that he was really saying it to calm himself down.

If he says it enough times, it’ll be true.

“Please don’t leave me, Y/N/N.”

There will be tears. 

“Shaun! Rebecca?! I need some help here now!”

He gets you out of there eventually, but he’s worried that he’s too late.

(Insert time skip here)

“Desmond, you need to get some rest. You’ve been here for days.”

“Not yet.”

“This is a hospital; nothing’s going to--”

“Not. Yet.”

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

can you make hcs about connor with a really talkative SO?

12/06/2020 (I’m going to start dating these, I think)

Hi! Yeah, I totally can! Hope you enjoy! (Lowkey relate because sometimes I just cannot stop talking) my muse is being helpful today that’s a first

“Hey, Connor...”

“So, do you remember when...”

“Did you know...”

“Don’t forget about...”

“... And then...”

There were many things Connor loved about you.

One of his favourite things, however, was that you always had something to talk about. 

“Ah, sorry, I must be boring you.”

“No, I’m interested. You were saying...” 

His eyes are on you when you talk. 

Always.

He just can’t look away from how your eyes light up, or how you smile in amusement. 

The Homestead was never quiet, whether you were inside, outside, or just in general.

Sometimes, it’s great! Like at dinner, you always fill in any silences between you, Connor, and Achilles.

Other times, he’d rather you hold that thought, such as when you go out hunting. 

He doesn’t mind though; there are many deer in the frontier, but there’s only one of you.

When you go on solo missions, there is a noticeable difference in the atmosphere. 

It’s almost too quiet.

On darker days, Connor’s mind may get pulled into ‘what ifs’ that he would rather not think about. 

As soon as you return though, everything goes back to normal. 

The atmosphere lights up again, with your laughter, your smiles, and your words. 

Your personality complements him perfectly, and he just loves hearing your voice, because it means that you’re there; beside him, across from him... 

Connor? Swooning? 

Nah.

Well...

Maybe just a little bit.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Sculptin’ Skillz (Modern!AU)

A/N: I know I have tons of requests, but I’ve never written anything for holidays (I know, shock horror), so I wanted to write a couple of things to just make it feel a bit more special.  It sounds like I’m talking about Christmas, but today is Halloween, so let’s just call it practice.

Tagging: @marshmallow--3​ / @yourlocalfrenchie​ (if you wanna be tagged in anything, shoot me an ask or something!)

Connor x Gender neutral!Reader (yay!)

“You’ve never ever carved a pumpkin before?”

Connor shrugged, grinning at your incredulous expression. “It was just never something we did as a family.”

“Did you celebrate Halloween at all?” 

“Only giving out sweets at the front door, but we never decorated or anything.”

“No parties either?”

He shook his head.  “No, I guess not.”

“Let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?”

“To buy a pumpkin! Come on, let’s go, before all the good ones are taken!”

Laughing at your urgency at a fruit, he grabbed his car keys and followed you out the door (he never trusts you to drive when you’re in a rush).

--------

“This is too heavy!” As soon as Connor was through the door, he went to take the pumpkin off of you to carry inside. 

“You insisted on the biggest one.” 

“Yeah; the regrets are piling in.”

You pulled two kitchen knives of different sizes out of the block and gathered two spoons, a marker, and a good sized bowl.

“Okay, step one in ‘Pumpkin Carving 101; gut the pumpkin.” You placed your tools on the table next to the offending fruit. 

“Have’ at him, big guy -- cut a lid around the stem at the top.”

He chuckled, carefully doing as you said with the bigger knife. Once the circle joined together, he put the knife down. He tugged the stem lightly, but it was still glued shut. 

“You don’t have those muscles for nothing,” you pointed out, not-so-helpfully.

“Uh-huh.” Connor smiled to himself. He’d grown to secretly love your smack talk -- it showed your sense of humour and personality. He grabbed the stem and gave it a harder pull, twisting it simultaneously. It loosened slightly, and it was enough for Connor’s fingers to grip the edge of the lid and twist it free. Pumpkin guts dangled from the lid precariously. He passed it over to you and peered inside. “That does not look appetising for a fruit.” He retracted almost immediately. “The smell isn’t any better.”

You grabbed a spoon and scooped as much as you could out of the shell and into the big bowl beside you. “But this is arguably the best part.” Connor joined you, scooping in tandem. 

“What do we do with these leftovers?”

“Loads of stuff. We can make pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, pumpkin stew… anything you want.”

You watched as Connor rolled the pumpkin over to scrape out the remains of the seeds. “You’re a natural!”

He gave a bashful smile, even at something as tedious as this. 

“Now we need to carve it. Any ideas?”

Connor shook his head.

“I suppose we should stay simple this year; next year we’ll do something different.”

You picked up the marker and drew some polygons for the eyes and the nose, and drew some spikes upturned in an evil grin. “Happy with that?” 

“Yeah; it’s not bad.”

“Of course not; I drew it.”

“I need to stop encouraging your ego.”

Connor picked up the smaller knife for the shorter lines, brows furrowed in concentration. He popped out the carved pieces without much of a problem, and was very precise in his movements. “Is that it?” he asked, putting the knife down and stepping back to look at the finished product. 

“Not quite.” You grabbed a candle and a lighter before turning off the lights. The early evening called for almost complete darkness. 

Connor was about to question it, but stopped once he heard and saw the lighter ignite the tea light in your hand. 

You went ahead to carefully place it inside the pumpkin before putting the lid on top. “Behold! Ye Olde Jack-O-Lantern!” 

Connor laughed, wrapping an arm around you. He kissed your head. “Thank you. That was fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Next year we should have a competition then.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to accept losing.”

“Is that a challenge or a threat?”

“... Both.” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at his cheeky grin. 

You kissed him just as the doorbell went. “Time to be the mothers’ worst nightmare.” You reached into the cupboard and brought out the bowl of sweets and chocolate you prepared earlier while Connor picked up the pumpkin and followed you to the door. 

“Trick or treat!”

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

it would be awesome to see the reactions of Haytham, Connor, Evie, Jacob and Shay after the reader has been gone for a long time (even a couple years) and they come back after such a long time

Got you covered! (I’m gonna try and finish Headcanon requests before I start on the fics, so I’m gonna try and complete all the headcanons I currently have in my inbox)

"Y/N?”

Haytham 

So this guy would need a second.

He’d be a bit starstruck, to be honest.

It would be quite formal at first, as he puts his guard up against all emotion.

Of course, you could easily break that wall down.

He’d embrace you with all the love he had, along with a tender kiss.

And vice versa, of course. 

“I’ve got to say that I never thought I would see you again.”

You’d laugh quietly, delighted to see him after who knows how long. 

“I couldn’t stay away for much longer.”

Shay

Shay would do a double take.

Just to make sure.

“Y/N! How long has it been?!” 

With a grin, he’d hold you tightly. 

“Too long, Shay--too long.”

“Is there room for one more?”

“Always, Y/N. Always.”

Connor

He would be tending to the horses and mucking out the stables when he hears another set of hooves trotting towards him. 

The rider would be wearing the distinctive robes that would immediately lift his heart.

It’s been a tough year.

The horse would whinny happily and head straight into Connor’s outstretched hand, who would feed him a sugar cube before quickly moving to his rider.

Grabbing your waist, he would spin you around as you dismounted.

“How was it?”

“It was good; I missed home, though. I missed you.”

“I’m glad you’re home, Y/N.”

Cue the best bear hug.

Evie

Evie would be planning for an interception of a courier.

Upon observing her target, a shadow would have bumped into them, promptly stealing the documents she needed. 

As she went to reclaim them, the courier was none the wiser. 

You’d head down backstreets, and Evie would be quick to block your path, a knife to your throat.

“You have something that belongs to me,” she’d threaten. 

“Like your heart?”

Your smirk was more than visible under your cowl.

She’d leap off of you, laughing under her breath.

“I hate it when you do that,” she said with a relieved smile.

“It’s almost as if I never left!”

You hugged her tightly. 

“You took your time.”

“Can’t rush perfection.”

Jacob

“Lost your bottle, boys?!”

Typical Jacob was caught in a gang battle.

As the local police officers quietly turned their heads, Rooks and Blighters would start to throw hands.

Jacob would begin to chase down the borough leader, and he almost caught them...

Until someone else stuck their knife in their throat, watching them crumple to the floor. 

Jacob halted as soon as possible, slightly pissed at the fact that he had it handled.

That frustration would quickly translate to excitement once he recognised your face.

He would bound towards you, dipping his head for a kiss.

Surprised, you would stumble backwards.

“That was unexpected!”

He never realised that he would have missed your smile or your laugh as much as he did then.

“It’s good to see you, love.” 

“It’s good to see you too; should we be kissing over a dead body?”

“... Probably not.”

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Can I have a request of the assassins, (can you include haytham) reacting to their kid being a leader of some kid group, like they used to bully their kids but their kids eventually scared them and earned their trust so they follow their kid around doing tasks for their kid

+ [For the kid leading group can you do Haytham, Jacob, Arno, Altair, Connor and Ezio if that's alright]

(Let’s get this rollin’!)

How the Assassins React to Their Child Becoming a Leader Of a Gang (essentially)

Altaïr

“What are you doing, Y/C/N?”

So he’d be confused at first.

Kids bullying his child?!

But he’d be impressed at how they handled it.

“Y/C/N, you cannot go around Masyaf striking other children.”

“You don’t understand, father!

“They struck me first!”

Of course he was satisfied at his child’s competence.

He just had to act like a parent.

Before your wrath comes to berate him.

Believe me, it’s happened once already.

Ezio

He was very happy.

And extremely proud.

“You’d be wise to show those Di Pazzis where they belong. Well done, Tesoro.”

A pat on the back for your child.

A smack around the head for him.

Connor

Connor would really be questioning morality.

“Y/C/N, is this really the right thing to do?”

“It’s not like I’m making them jump off a cliff, papa.”

“Isn’t collecting firewood a bit… unnecessary?”

“We split it.”

“Evenly?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘even’.”

Shocked, Connor would walk away.

“Y/N!”

Haytham

“Now, Y/C/N, that’s not how young boys/girls behave,” he’d say with you by his side, sending a disapproving glance your child’s way.

“Sorry, father.”

“Keep up the good work,” he’d whisper as you’re distracted.

Arno

He’d be more worried for your child’s safety and well-being.

“Are you alright?”

“What were they saying?”

Your child would brush off his concerns.

“It’s alright, papa. I’m in charge now.”

Did he hear that right?

He’d definitely raise an eyebrow, but wouldn’t say anything more.

Jacob

Straight to the nearest pub.

“Raise your glasses, lads! We’ve got ourselves a confident heir to the leader of the Rooks!”

Your child, already being well known amongst the Rooks (much to your discomfort), would be congratulated, and Jacob would even propose a toast.

“To my beloved son/daughter, may your gang leading days never end!”

Cue more cheering.

Also cue a box to the ear when no one was looking.

“Ow!”

“Stop encouraging it!”

“Well, he/she’s going to have to take my place someday.”

“Don’t even start…”

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do some head cannons for Connor, Altaïr, and Alexios reacting to their child being a really great artist??

Yes, I definitely can! (Though I can’t draw at all, so this’ll go down well) I hope you enjoy them, Anon!

How the Assassins React to their Child being a Talented Artist

Alexios

He would be searching for his ever wandering child, eventually coming into a small opening in the side of a cliff.

Not a cave, just a mouth of one.

There, he’d see sketches all over the walls in various colours, sizes, and landscapes.

They stretched to the ceiling and contained images of Gods (along with animals that associate with them), fields brimming with colourful flowers, and even portaits of their family.

It was so detailed and vibrant, Alexios couldn’t help but let out an impressed noise.

Their child, startled, dropped their painting utensils immediately.

Alexios had only one thing to say.

“I think the back door needs to be repainted.”

He’d have a proud smile on his face as their child’s eyes light up.

They gather all their things as soon as possible.

They end up painting a silhouette of Zeus, with a shadow of an eagle’s head and wings behind it.

Let’s just say it was the talk of the neighbourhood for a very long time.

Altaïr

I’m going to be completely honest here.

At first, Altaïr wouldn’t really care.

He’d give a vague huff of praise, but that would be as far as he’ll go.

UNTIL

They sketch him.

And when they draw, they draw what they see and what it means to them.

So for Altaïr to see himself in the most accurate detail, with every single fleck in his eye accounted for and every single dot of stubble, he realises just how much they mean to him.

No one’s really cared for him before, but to see himself through another person’s eyes really opens his mind.

We know now that he will always be poking around their sketchbook with them properly, eager to see how talented they really are.

Connor

He would be surprised for sure.

His child never looked like one to draw.

Connor originally thought that they were journaling whenever they climbed the tree in the middle of the Frontier (he’d check on them periodically, just in case).

But that wasn’t the case at all.

He’d climbed up when they were in full concentration, and they only noticed he was there once he actually spoke.

“So this is what you were doing.”

They almost fell out of the tree if it wasn’t for Connor clutching at their arm in time.

The book they were drawing in contained studies of nature; of birds, leaves, trees, and other mammals that would come crawling, scampering, or prowling about.

“This is very impressive, Y/C/N.”

They’d be extremely modest, but happy to see that their father is happy with them.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Haytham, Shay, Arno, Connor and Edward’s SO who is not an assassin or a Templar but more of a vigalante like Batman or daredevil. How do they react to that? Just curious

(Okay; fourth time’s the charm and this time it’s on mobile… what can go wrong?)

How the Assassins React to Their S/O As A Vigilante

Shay

He would be impressed at the fact that you work for yourself and no one else.

“I do it to save my own people from a world of greed and ruin.”

Okay, so not for no one.

How lucky he would feel to be able to have a relationship with the woman/man that will change the world.

Connor

Will always ask to help you.

Doesn’t want you to go on especially dangerous missions without him; his attendance is a must.

Will not take no for an answer.

One time you had to leave before he could be ready to actually stop him from coming with you—you didn’t want him to be hurt.

So anxiously, he’d await your return.

Working for yourself, who would be there to give you back up?

Your return engulfed him in relief, and he would like nothing more than to cuddle.

A lot.

Edward

Would wonder about your motives.

“What could you gain?” He’s ask.

“Freedom for those I love.”

It opens his eyes to the world around him, and soon he sees not only the well dressed, but the ones who are more in need than him.

He wants to permanently join you on your missions in order to eliminate the evil in the towns close to home.

And when they’re done, he’ll want to help you to save others further out to sea.

Arno

Would probably try to convince you to join the brotherhood.

“What if you could do all those things, but with people around you to help?”

You’ve always entertained the thought of others aiding your liberation mission, but you’ve learned from past experiences that you work better on your own.

“Besides, I work better on my own.”

He would still be looking out for you on missions, nevertheless. He would watch over you, protective and cautious, just in case something managed to slip under your radar.

It came in handy once.

You were so immersed in one thing that you failed to hear the footsteps creeping up behind you.

Cue the Phantom Blade doing what it does best a few rooftops away.

All you saw when you turned around was a flash of blue and white, and you knew you were going to have a very thorough conversation later.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

White Noise

Prompt: The request would be the character(s) finding out there s/o has trouble being alone for a long time and sleeping alone with some comforting? Like, a day or so they're fine but after that they become in edge, talk to themselves, and maybe try and make noise so it feels like there's people there. And it's because they come from a large family and was never alone growing up. And the s/o kinda feels dumb for being like this.

A/N: I got out another one! I hope this is what you wanted, Love! I wanted to make it fit and I hope this would work out. I have one more pending request that is on its way (the most recent one :D), so stay tuned for that one! So enjoy!

Requested by @sciencethot

“How long will you be?” You held the brown mare’s reigns firmly as Connor mounted her.

“As long is it will take.” He half shrugs before he leans down to kiss the top of your head.

“Do not worry, Y/N/N, I will be fine.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he digs his heels in, sending the horse down the path.

You watched him disappear from view further into the trees, a worried smile on your face. “Y/N,” Achilles called from the porch. “There’s game in these woods and it has your name written all over it.” He winked and walked inside. You sighed.

I guess I should get my bow, you thought.

After a hearty meal of venison stew, you bid your good-nights and headed up to your and Connor’s shared bedroom. You hoped for his safety and fast return as you crawled under the covers. The sound of Achilles hobbling around downstairs quickly sent you into a slumber, clutching a pillow to fill the irreplaceable gap.

The morning came quickly, and you continued doing your usual chores, mucking out the stables, caring for the horses, hunting for food and other household ‘To Do’s.

The evening came quickly, and you repeated last night’s prayers and blew out your lamp. Achilles retired to bed an hour or two prior, so you were in charge of turning off all the lamps. It was extremely quiet, and you quickly found it unsettling. You weren’t used to such a quiet household. Your parents had many children, and being a child with five other siblings came with its pros and cons.

For example, the silence was deafening, and all you could do is lie down and stare at the ceiling. Usually, Connor’s heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

But seeing as he wasn’t there…

Knuckles rapping on the wooden headboard, you tried to provoke some noise into the room. It was working, but you’d have to be doing it all night in order to get some sleep.

The sleepless night led to an equally horrible morning.

The days slogged on slowly, and the nights where Achilles went to bed before you were the nights plagued with insomnia. You hoped Connor would return.

You were brushing your horse in the stables when you heard commotions from the other side of the Homestead. Turning around, you beamed at the sight of a beautiful brown horse calmly trotting into view. Her rider, however, is what made you sigh in relief.

You were at his side by the time he dismounted, and he wrapped you in an embrace almost instantly. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered, pulling away to inspect his face. He had a streak of dirt along his cheek and a small cut on the side of his nose, but other than that, he seemed fine.

“I’ve missed you too. How have you been?” He bent down to give you a small kiss.

“Better now.” You took the reigns of the mare and began to lead her to the stables. “Help me unsaddle her?”

Connor smiled, following you as he stripped off his weapons belt and outer robes, hanging them on the cubicle gate. Left in his shirt and breeches, he unstrapped the saddle underneath his mare, heaving the saddle upon the fence as you began brushing her fur. You blinked as you worked, hoping to relieve the stinging of your eyes. Although Connor was occupied with feeding the horse, he noticed your behaviour.

“Y/N/N, have you been sleeping well?” He pat his mount on her snout as he watched you with concern.

“Not too badly, I guess,” you replied, barely able to suppress a yawn as you spoke.

Connor frowned. He observed the time of day. Early evening, he supposed.

“Should we retire for the night?” He was carefully pulling the bridle off of his mare and hanging it on a hook, grabbing a shovel to quickly muck out the mess.

“We’ve got too much to do first.”

“Achilles may be old, but he can look after himself for one night.”

“I need to help you out first.”

He smiled at your selflessness. “I’m fine. Let’s have a bath.”

“I’ll collect the water, then.”

“I’ll warm up the coal.”

Connor took his robes and gear in his arms and stood waiting as you collected two buckets and closed the gate to the cubicle. He moved up to the Homestead while you went to the water pump around the back.

With the water heated and ready, the two of you emptied the buckets into the tin tub. You both stripped and slowly took opposite sides of the tub. Connor went straight to wash his face. “Let me; you don’t want to get dirt in that cut.” You grabbed a flannel (and his face) and slowly rubbed the dirt away from the small wound. “Infections aren’t nice.”

As you concentrated, Connor studied the tiredness in your eyes. “You really didn’t sleep well, did you?” His hands caught your fingers undoing his braid.

“It was too quiet.” Your cheeks flushed with heat as you tried to laugh off the embarrassment. “I’m just not used to sleeping in a silent house.”

“Why is that?” His face relaxed as he realised that it wasn’t as concerning as he originally thought it was.

“Being the second oldest in a small house with five siblings was not the most orderly situation growing up. There was always a commotion going on, and I just grew up to sleep with the noise. Now I suppose I can’t sleep without any.”

You tilted his head back as you poured water from a jug over his loosened hair. Hands coated with oils, you began to massage his scalp. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hair down for once. “You could have told me; I would have tried to help,” he said softly.

“I was embarrassed about it.”

He took your hands in his and pressed his forehead against yours. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about; I love you. I will not judge you.”

Your heart warmed, and you froze while Connor took any excess oils off of your hands into his, turning to your hair.

“I love you too, Connor.”

You exchanged stories as you both helped to bathe each other. The laughs were soft, and the smiles were warm.

After you both dressed in nightwear (you wore one of Connor’s extra big shirts and underwear, while he just wore a pair of clean breeches), the bathtub was drained and you crawled into bed. Connor rolled in after you, gathering you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, instantly relaxing at the strong thumps of his heart.

Connor tucked the new braid you plaited behind his ear. “I don’t want you to suffer when I’m not at the Homestead. If there’s anything I can do…” he looked down, expecting a response, but huffed a silent laugh once he realised that you were already asleep.

Kissing the top of your head, he whispered a quiet, loving, “Goodnight.”