#shay Patrick Cormac x reader

[wyyvernn]

A/n: thought i would do these for my favourite assassins/templars since i did them for Castlevania. Maybe I'll do them for others

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

How they kiss you - Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor), Haytham, Jacob, Evie, Shay

Ratonhnhaké:ton

Slow and sweet, like calm waves licking the shore or gentle spring winds flying through leaves. His arms are warm around you, heat seeping through his palms as they grip your waist. Sometimes you can feel his hesitance, how his lips barely touch yours, like you're glass and he's afraid to break you. The rough pads of his thumbs feel like a feather sweeping over your soft chin, though - tentative but endearing.

Haytham

Slow, deep and confident, each kiss from his lips feels expensive and so intoxicating like rich red wine. His palms press ever so slightly against your neck, thumbs cradling your jaw as he tilts your face up towards him. His lips curl as he feels your pulse quicken beneath his fingers, even more so as he pulls away, enjoying the hot flush he brings to your skin and the way he leaves you wanting for more.

Shay

Short, fast and a little playful, Shay takes your breath away everytime. Always quick and always eager, as if he wants to steal all of your attention before someone else does. Sometimes during calm nights on the seas, he likes to take you in his arms and slow dance at the helm of his ship beneath the stars, even as you protest and shy away. He simply laughs and presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead, asking you to suffer a silly moment with him.

Jacob

Wild and passionate, you can never get Jacob to sit down, but when he does, he's gathering you into his lap, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your collarbone and sometimes...much lower. Many times have his rooks walked in the midst of your...activities, and on more embarrassing occasions, his sister too. Although, not once has he let it bother him or that smug grin.

Evie

Adoring and gentle, Evie leaves you feeling protected and treasured. You take great pleasure in her affections, in the times that her elegant fingers caress your cheeks, and how her perfect lips brush over your knuckles like the softest of silks. Every act she inflicts on your body is pure and heavenly but it feels so sensual and sinful, as if her touch shouldn't feel this good. Regardless, you soak up everything she gives you.

[s0larine]

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄 [𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐂 𝐗 𝐅! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑]

summary ☩ The reader, an undercover Assassin, goes at a high-society masquerade ball to gather information about Templars and unexpectedly meet her former friend, Shay, now fully allied with the enemy. Neither can afford to reveal their true identities in such a public place, but they are drawn to each other through the anonymity of the masks.

[a/n] ☩ [y/f/n] means your fake name because baby we’re playing undercover tonight~ reminder that english is not my mother tongue. UNEDITED

word count ☩ 3,979

pairing ☩ shay cormac x f! reader

content warnings ☩ slight sexual tension, female reader, enemies to lovers, mentions of shay's deflection, fluff, assassin! reader, templar! shay, reader in a gown, shay being a man, shay having a long time crush on reader, mutual pining, ...

　　　New-York, June 1756

“Everything is in order. You can enter, Lady [y/f/n].”

The red coat handed you your invitation. As you entered the huge place, your eyes wandered around you, detailing every nook and cranny, taking in and memorising the layout of the area. The grand hall was indeed a spectacle of opulence. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, casting a golden glow over the sea of masks that danced and mingled below. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of violins filled the air, creating a scene that was far removed from the dangerous world you were familiar with.

Your mission tonight was simple: gather information, and your mentor was clear about your purpose here; not to engage at any costs. The Templars were holding this extravagant masquerade in the hopes of attracting allies from high society, and you had been sent by the Assassin Brotherhood with—of course, a fake name—to blend in, to listen, to learn. The gown you wore tonight was unlike anything you were used to—luxurious, intricate, and adorned with a mask that glittered in the candlelight. Your hair was gathered in a half bun and some golden hair clips adorned them. In order to pass for a member of high society, you even took the time to put on a jewellery set; a necklace, dangling earrings and a few bracelets and rings. But beneath the facade of wealth and elegance, your blade was hidden, strapped to your left thigh under your luxurious gown, ever ready. If I'd been born as a man, hiding it and having simple access to it would have been easier, but there's nothing more I can do in this puffy dress… you thought. 

As you walked amongst the other attendees, getting as close as possible to people whose clothes meant something to you, such as high-ranked Templars, you noticed a very particular group of men at the other side of the hall. Among them were Colonel George Monro and Sir William Johnson, both members of the Colonial Rite of the Templar Order. Your eyes fell on their silhouettes with their recognisable clothes from beneath your own mask but quickly continued their search. And who else…

What you hadn't expected was to find him here.

Shay Cormac stood with the group of men, dressed sharply in a black tailcoat with accents of silver and red. His mask, a sleek black piece that covered half his face, did little to hide the sharpness of his features or the air of authority he carried. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The same stormy brown eyes that had haunted your thoughts since the day he defected from the Brotherhood.

You hadn't seen him in years, but the memories were fresh, the betrayal still raw.

But there was one detail that made your blood run cold: the young man's eyes were already riveted on you. When has he ever noticed you before? Your heartbeat quickened and you finally looked away, turning to a passing servant. You picked up a glass of champagne as he passed by you and began to sip the golden liquid, your eyes frantically searching for a place to rest in order to pass for an innocent. Maybe it was just a coincidence... No, no, he's far too clever to think that I'm just a random young woman...

You risked looking back up at the group of men he was with, but he had already disappeared. Your breathing quickened and you turned away from his previous location towards a random group of people, just to pass for a guest sympathising with others. Your heart raced as you opened your senses; you knew he was coming for you and you couldn’t do anything but pray he hadn’t recognised you yet. This was supposed to be just another mission, a simple infiltration, but now everything felt different. Could you approach him without giving yourself away?

A voice behind you jolted you from your thoughts, soon followed by a delicate 

"Would you care to dance?"

You freezed. A delicate palm soon rested on the small of your back and another one entered your field of vision from the right, at the level of your own right hand. Closing your eyes, you inhaled sharply before turning; you found Shay standing before you, his right hand still extended and a dangerous smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat once again at your inattentiveness. You needed to be more careful around him… The recognition in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. He definitely knew. He had seen through your disguise, just as you had seen through his.

But you couldn't afford to let him know the depth of your awareness, not here, not now.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tension that coiled in your chest, giving away your champagne glass to a passing servant. You placed your right hand in his left, feeling the warmth of his grip, and he led you onto the dance floor.

The music swelled around you as Shay pulled you close, one hand resting firmly on your waist, the other holding your gloved hand in his. His touch was confident, and his movements were smooth as he guided you effortlessly through the steps of the waltz. The crowd around you faded into the background, your focus narrowing to the man before you.

"You've been watching me, [y/n]," Shay said softly, his lips barely moving as he leaned in. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a hidden challenge.

You met his gaze, your mask hiding the flash of defiance in your eyes. "I could say the same about you, Shay."

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Not long enough," you whispered with clenched teeth, your voice sharp despite the graceful steps of the dance.

Shay's grip on your waist tightened slightly, which made you tense, a silent acknowledgment of the tension between you. "You always did have a way with words. Tell me, are you here for pleasure, or are you working tonight?" You did not fail to notice his gaze sliding down your neck to the start of your cleavage, checking you out shamelessly. 

Your cheeks flushed, feeling like a lamb trapped in the fangs of a wolf. You felt the heat of his breath as he spoke, the proximity making it difficult to keep your composure. Every instinct told you to draw your blade, to end this now, but the crowd was thick, and the consequences of a public confrontation were too great.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you replied, your lips curving into a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

He twirled you effortlessly, the skirts of your gown swirling around you as you spun, and when you came back to him, his hand was lower, lingering just above the hidden blade at your thigh. He didn't touch it, but the threat was clear. He knew exactly where it was. Your blood ran cold at the thought that he had found your dagger.

"Careful," he murmured, tilting his head, his voice a soft warning. "This is a delicate dance we're doing. One misstep and it could get… messy."

From being riveted on his chest, your eyes looked back up into his own, the familiar storm clouds swirling with something darker, something more dangerous. "You think I'm afraid of a little mess?"

Shay's lips quivered into a smirk, and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of the man you once knew, the Assassin and friend who had fought beside you. But that man was gone, replaced by the Templar before you.

"You should be," he whispered, pulling you closer as the music slowed.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the crowd, the mission, the masks—all of it dissolved as the tension between you reached a boiling point. The weight of your shared history hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You had fought side by side once, and had trusted him with your life. And then he had betrayed everything.

But here, in this moment, with his hand on your waist and your bodies moving in sync, the lines between enemy and ally blurred. You hated him, you were sure of that, but the way your heart pounded in your chest told a different story. There was something more, something you had never fully understood.

"Tell me, Shay," you said, your voice barely more than a breath as the music began to wind down. "Why did you do it? Why did you turn your back on us?"

Shay's expression darkened, the playful smirk fading as his eyes grew hard. "You wouldn't understand, [y/n]."

"Try me," you insisted, your grip on his hand tightening.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze searching yours. And then, just as the final note of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Because sometimes, the Brotherhood is wrong."

With those words, the music ended, and Shay released you, stepping back with a final, piercing look. He bowed slightly, a mockery of the formal dance, and then turned, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there in the middle of the dance floor, watching him go back to his Templar associates. You were unable to move, your heart racing, and your mind spinning. His words echoed in your ears, and for the first time, you weren't sure where your loyalties truly lay.

As the night wore on, you realised that this masquerade was more than just a mission—it was the beginning of a far more dangerous game. One that you and Shay Cormac were destined to play, whether you liked it or not.

The evening continued around you, but it felt as though you were standing still. The swirling skirts, the clinking of glasses, the murmurs of conversation—they all faded into background noise as your mind raced with Shay’s parting words.

“Because sometimes, the Brotherhood is wrong.”

Your hand unconsciously grazed the hidden blade at your thigh, the familiar weight suddenly feeling heavy. Shay had betrayed everything you once stood for. He had walked away, abandoned the Creed, and joined the very enemies you had sworn to fight. And yet… there was a flicker of doubt creeping into your thoughts, a doubt you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

The Brotherhood had given you purpose, structure, a cause greater than yourself. But now, for the first time, you wondered if Shay’s defection wasn’t just a selfish act of betrayal. His eyes when he spoke had held something you hadn’t expected: conviction.

You shook your head, banishing the thought. No. I won’t question the Brotherhood. Not now, not because of him.

But that resolve felt brittle.

You caught a glimpse of Shay again through the crowd. He had made his way toward the far end of the ballroom, mingling with Templar officials, exchanging pleasantries. But his eyes kept darting back to you, just as yours did to him.

What was his game?

Your mission was still clear. Gather information. You weren’t here for personal matters. You couldn’t afford to let Shay’s presence distract you. But despite your attempts to stay focused, your thoughts kept wandering back to that dance, to his touch, to the way his breath had brushed against your ear when he whispered those final words.

Suddenly, a hand landed lightly on your shoulder, jolting you from your reverie.

“Care to join me for a drink, my lady?” The voice belonged to a man in a silver mask, a high-ranking Templar based on the insignia on his sleeve. His eyes were sharp, watching you with interest. It was clear he had noticed your distraction.

Forcing a smile, you nodded, reminding yourself of your mission. “Of course.”

As you followed him to a quieter corner of the room where the drinks were principally gathered, you could feel Shay’s gaze burning into your back, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The Templar was speaking now, sharing something about the recent victories they’d secured in the colonies, but you weren’t really listening despite the purpose of your mission tonight. Your mind was still with Shay, turning over everything he had said—and everything he hadn’t in a way. After a few minutes of absent-mindedly drinking champagne and listening to the man recount his false prowess, you finally excused yourself from the conversation, your head buzzing with alcohol and of course the weight of your conflicting emotions. You were a little hot and needed air, away from all those rich folks.

You headed for the balcony overlooking the formal gardens of the period building. Stepping out onto the balcony, you took a deep breath of the cool night air, leaning against the marble railing.

It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. Opening your senses once again, you closed your eyes and you instantly knew who it was.

“You always did like your quiet moments,” came a familiar voice.

You didn’t turn around immediately, your hands tightening on the railing as Shay approached. You could feel his eyes boring into your back, or even your bum, and the tension rolling off him.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” you said, still facing the darkened city beyond. “You’ve made your point. Or was there something else you wanted to say?”

Shay didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he stepped beside you, his presence warm and solid in the cool night air. You could feel him watching you, studying you, but you refused to meet his gaze.

“Tell me,” he said finally, his voice low and measured, “do you truly believe in everything the Brotherhood teaches? Or do you just follow because that’s all you’ve ever known?”

The question hit harder than you expected. You had spent years training under the Creed, living by its rules, carrying out its missions without question. But standing here now, with Shay beside you, that certainty felt… shaky. He wasn’t just talking about betrayal; he was challenging everything you had built your life around.

“Why are you asking me this?” you shot back, turning towards him and leaning against the fence that was now behind you. The action made the dark-haired man's eyes slide towards your protruding chest, and they stopped there for a few seconds before returning to rest in your eyes. You frowned slightly, licking your lower lip, you decided to ignore his gaze and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. “You’re the one who abandoned us. Who betrayed your brothers and sisters. You walked away, Shay. And now you want to question my loyalty?”

His jaw tightened, but his eyes never wavered. “I didn’t betray the Brotherhood. I saw the truth. The Assassins… they’re not as righteous as you think. They preach freedom, but they’re willing to sacrifice anyone who gets in their way.”

You inhaled sharply, your chest suddenly pressed against the corset of your dress. You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips. There was a certain fire in his eyes, a depth to his conviction that shook you. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t manipulating you. He believed what he was saying.

“I followed the Creed because I believed in it, just like you do, [y/n],” seeing that you didn’t speak, Shay continued, his voice steady. “But I couldn’t ignore what I saw—the innocents we put at risk, the people we hurt for the sake of an ideal. The Brotherhood is supposed to protect people, not destroy them.”

You felt a pang of anger, but also of confusion. Shay wasn’t wrong about some of the darker sides of the Assassins’ work. You had seen it yourself—the collateral damage, the grey areas where right and wrong blurred.

But you had always trusted the Creed to guide you, to show you the path forward.

“And what about the Templars?” you countered. “They’re no saints either, Shay. You think they’re any better?”

“I don’t think they’re perfect,” Shay admitted. “But they offer something the Assassins never could—order, stability. A chance to build a world where people don’t have to live in fear of chaos.”

You clicked your tongue and turned away again, staring out at the city while shaking your head, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Part of you wanted to reject everything he was saying, to cling to the teachings of the Brotherhood. But another part of you—a part that had been growing ever since Shay’s defection—couldn’t ignore the doubts.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” you asked quietly, your lips quivering with sadness.

Shay’s silence was heavy before he finally spoke. “Because you deserve to know the truth. And because I don’t want to lose you to the same blindness that I was caught in for so long.”

His words were raw, unguarded. For a moment, you weren’t an Assassin and he wasn’t a Templar. You were just two people standing on the edge of something far bigger than either of you.

Your heart ached with the weight of it all—your history with Shay, your loyalty to the Brotherhood, and the undeniable pull you felt toward him. The night had begun as a mission, but it had become something far more dangerous. The real question was: what would you do now?

Slowly, you turned to face him a second time since you stepped on the balcony, the air between you charged with everything unsaid.

“What happens now, Shay?” you breathed, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Shay’s eyes held yours, the storm of emotions mirrored in his gaze. He stepped closer, his voice low but resolute. “Now, we decide what side of history we’re on. Together.”

The weight of Shay’s words lingered in the cool night air, settling between the two of you like an invisible barrier. His eyes held yours, intense and searching yet soft, as if he was trying to read the turmoil inside you, to understand the emotions you weren’t sure you could admit to yourself.

“Together?” you echoed, your voice softer than you intended.

Shay stepped even closer, his tall frame casting a shadow in the moonlight, towering over your gentle but firm and well-trained one. The tension between you shifted, no longer just the push and pull of conflicting loyalties. There was something else—something that had always been there, beneath the surface, but never acknowledged.

The air around you seemed to thicken as he closed the distance. His gloved hand reached up slowly, hesitating for a moment, before gently lifting your mask. The gesture made you swallow your saliva in order to get rid of the lump that was starting to form in your throat. The intricate piece slid off, exposing your face to the night’s cool breeze. His gaze softened as he studied you, no longer the dangerous man who had left the Brotherhood, but someone familiar—someone who had once meant more to you than just a fellow Assassin.

“I never wanted to lose you,” Shay murmured, his voice lower now, more intimate as his eyes gazed at your opened lips. “Even after everything, I never stopped thinking about you.”

His confession sent a jolt through you, and you had to look away, your heart pounding in your chest. The years of anger and betrayal clashed with the warmth that was blooming inside you now, a warmth you hadn’t felt since before Shay had turned his back on everything you believed in.

“Shay, we’re on opposite sides now,” you whispered, though even as you said it, the words felt hollow.

He didn’t back away. Instead, his hand moved to your chin, gently guiding your face back to meet his eyes. “Does it matter? Here, right now, do sides really matter?”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was dangerous—not just because of who he was, but because of what you felt for him, what you had always felt. His hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so dangerous, so conflicted.

“I couldn’t let you go then, [y/n],” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I can’t now.”

The vulnerability in his words, in his gaze, disarmed you completely. All the questions, the doubt, the anger—it melted away in the warmth of his touch. For so long, you had convinced yourself that you hated him, that what he had done was unforgivable. But now, standing here, feeling the heat radiating from him, you realised the truth: you had never stopped caring for him.

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Your heart pounded in rhythm with his, the magnetic pull between you undeniable.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you either,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath as your gentle eyes switched from one to another of his and sometimes stopped on his chapped lips for no more than half a second to switch back to his eyes.

That was all the invitation he needed.

Shay closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second. His hand on your cheek slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. The warmth of him, the way his lips moved against yours, sent a shiver down your spine. The world around you disappeared—the masquerade, the mission, the war between Assassins and Templars. None of it mattered. Not now.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath the fabric of his coat, and absent-mindedly stroked the Templar sigil on his torso. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body warm and solid against yours. The kiss deepened, the slow burn of passion igniting into something more urgent, more desperate. Years of unspoken tension, of denied feelings, seemed to pour into that kiss, both of you trying to make up for the time you had lost.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath. His thumb gently stroked the side of your neck, a soft, intimate gesture that made your heart race even faster.

“I don’t care about the sides anymore,” Shay whispered against your lips, his breath warm. “I care about you.”

His words sent a wave of emotion crashing through you. You knew it wasn’t that simple—nothing ever was in your world—but for this moment, it felt like it could be. Like the war, the betrayal, everything else could fall away, leaving just the two of you.

“I don’t know if we can ever go back,” you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion. “After everything that’s happened…”

Shay’s hand tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer. “Maybe we don’t need to go back. Maybe we can start something new.”

You directed your gaze to meet his own eyes, seeing the same conflict mirrored in his eyes—the pull of duty against the pull of his heart. But there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward together.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you admitted, chuckling softly, your fingers tracing the edge of his collar.

Shay leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Neither do I. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself savour the moment, the feel of him against you, the warmth of his embrace. For now, that was enough.

And maybe, just maybe, it could be enough for whatever came next.

　　　PART 2 in writing...

© solarine. i do not allow my works to be copied, translated, modified, adapted or published on other platforms without my permission. thank you for your attention.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[recreationalfanfics]

An Unstable Atmosphere

Part 1

Summary: You attempt to escape when you wake up in the captain's quarters of the Morrigan.

Note: Yandere themes, somewhat unserious banter at the end, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story

When you wake up, your eyelids still feel heavy and you feel like a stranger in your body as you feel all sorts of pains and aches. Your stinging eyes have a harder time adjusting to the light, your muscles ache and creak as if they will give out from under you as you pull yourself up, and you touch your lip which feels puffy and bruised. When the dull pain makes you flinch, everything comes back to you. The mass murder of everyone you knew, the way you were beaten around by Templar footmen and…

  And Shay. 

Now in a panic, you throw the blanket off of your form and inspect the area around you. The first thing you realize is that you were below deck on a ship, and the second thing you realize is that it was specifically the Captain’s quarters judging from the desk of a scattered yet neat pile of paperwork and the giant portrait of the dreaded traitor himself. If you recalled the rumors and stories to be true, Shay was about only two or three years older than yourself when he became an official Assassin, but seeing the portrait and remembering his face honestly made it hard to picture. You had to give credit to the artist where it was due, they captured his imposing and austere eyes rather well that it sent shivers down your spine, but it only made it harder for you to picture that his aged and hardened face was ever an assassin. He truly looked like a Templar, hateful and evil. 

You hesitantly step your feet onto the ground as you sit on the edge of the bed, taking in more details of the area. You still bore your robes and your hood seemed to be sitting on the back of the chair. Your paranoid eyes look at the door and then towards the window; as if a Templar was randomly going to jump out and attack you, but once you gain the piece of mind; you stand up and walk towards the chair to grab your robes and make your outfit whole once more. Despite the pounding in your chest and the overall awfulness of the situation, there is a small amount you gain as you pull your hood over your head and it gives you motivation.

You’re alive…for now. May as well keep testing Lady Fate.

You briefly glance over the papers but find nothing of use, you also realize that your wrist piece with your hidden blade was not attached to your robe and was nowhere to be found, but you weren’t really surprised by that realization. It wouldn’t have done you much good anyways, seeing as you were never really handy with weapons, but your mentors often told you that you had a gift for stealth and having the element of surprise on your side. The very least you can do for those mentors is believe in their words and in yourself as you get your boots on and walk towards the door, pressing your ear against it. The chatter is rather low and soft and you don’t hear the sound of many scuffling feet, not to mention that you still hear the sound of seagulls which is a very good sign that you’re still nearby land but the ship is definitely still moving.

They’re in the middle of casting off.

With a closing time gap, your thoughts come together to come up with a very poorly thought out plan but one you felt would be your best bet. You would certainly be outnumbered but if you were quick enough, you’d be able to escape the remaining guards below deck and everyone else above deck would be too busy readying the ship to notice you escaping right away, and that once you managed to get to shore; you’d either buy yourself enough time to get a headstart before they turned their ship around or they’d simply deem you unimportant and continue their sailing to do whatever high ranking templars as Shay did. Grabbing your pillows and blankets, you take a deep breath before slamming the door open and throwing them at the first two templars you see guarding your door. You don’t catch their panicked yelling and you knock over everything in your path until you find the stairs. 

A little earlier, Shay was steering the boat; pondering over his own morals and choices. It was clear that while his crew didn’t voice it, they were all very confused why he of all people allowed the little assassin who was currently asleep in his quarters to live. Now that Shay thought about it, he couldn’t really understand it himself; obviously, it was unfortunate that someone that young became an assassin but you weren’t exactly the first novice assassin he had to face. Although, there was a huge difference between you and your unfortunate peers; while they foolishly overestimated their abilities and underestimated his experience because they equated their youth to superiority, you were just…helpless. Like a baby bird with a broken wing, at the mercy of the wolves around you, Shay just couldn’t help but want to take you under his wing and keep you safe. Unlike the others who were too arrogant and humbled in their last moments, there was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you die, and that in such a short amount of time; you’ve endeared yourself to him. 

It was wrong, he thought to himself. The very thought of you being killed despite being a part of the organization that betrayed him long ago felt…wrong. As he tucked you in the bed of his quarters, his hand gently caressed the side of your face, and for a brief moment; he felt a sense of familial connection. One that he hadn’t felt in a long time since his dear friend Liam and he realized he could not lose it. He could not lose you. There was no doubt in Shay’s mind that you needed him, especially as his eyes glazed over the injuries on your face with disgust, but he also knew that he needed you in his life just as much. He needed to protect and watch over you. He needed to teach you the ways of the world and softly introduce you to harsh truths. He needed you to look up at him and see him as not a disgraced assassin or as an untrustworthy Templar but as an idol, a mentor, and maybe even a father. There was an oddly warm feeling in his heart at that thought but he is pulled out of that daze the moment he hears loud clattering coming from the hatch that led below deck and that soon enough, your hooded figure pops out from it and immediately darts towards the side of the ship.

“STOP THEM!” Shay roars, he feels his body instantly become hysterical.

Side-eyeing the dock, it was far away that you couldn’t jump on it and make your escape back to land but it was close enough that it would take just a few strokes and a climb up and you’d be gone. By yourself, all alone, in the big cruel world. While some part of Shay expected you to pull something like this, a large part of him was slightly impressed but mostly worried. After all, once you got off his ship; where would you run to? All nearby guilds were already killed and the ones who managed to flee had escaped and erased all tracks for you to follow. You weren’t even armed with a weapon and you had no money. 

As he questioned your poorly thought-out idea after ordering his men to stop you, he also instantly turned his wheel to steer his ship further from the dock and more into the ocean. He yells out another order to go full sail and that immediately heightens the sense of urgency you had already. One of his men tries to tackle you but you duck out of the way and slide between the legs of another who tried to grab you in his arms. You reacted quicker than you did yesterday and it definitely impressed him and even reminded him of himself when he was younger. 

“I’ve got ‘em, Captain!” The navigator beside him shouted, Shay heard the sound of him withdrawing his pistol and he immediately turned around to grab his arm and quickly aim it anywhere else that wasn’t you.

As the two men scuffled, you yelped when you heard the gunshot. Failing to realize that it was nowhere near you but also not really caring, you dodge the last of his men near the edge and you reach the edge and perch yourself on it. Shay catches a glimpse of you as you try not to think about the water below and that the distance isn’t getting any shorter the longer you wait. 

“FULL SAIL!” Someone yells.

It doesn’t take long before the wind fills the sails and the change of speed is drastic. Much so that you stumble from your spot and yell as you fall over, your hand managing to grab the side.

“NO!” Shay cries, immediately bolting towards you.

The sea spray kisses your boots and you look back at the dock, amazed and upset by how quickly the ship got away but if you let go right now, maybe you could still make it. You pinch your nose and close your eyes to ready yourself for the water but as you let go of the side of the ship, two large hands grab your wrist. You’re nothing more than a rag doll as you’re roughly hoisted away from the side and onto the ship’s floor. You stare up and your heart drops in your chest as Shay kneels in front of you, much like he did yesterday, but this time he put a hand on your shoulder. It was a tight grip, one that despite his gloves and your robes, you could feel his nails digging into you like a predator desperately clutching onto its prey. His face looks worried but you don’t know why, maybe because his prisoner or hostage or whatever he saw you as nearly escaped. 

“Do you know how reckless that was!?” He hisses at you, his eyes now narrowing.

Still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your throat runs dry and you can’t seem to find a response. However, it didn’t really matter if you could or not because Shay quickly pulls you up to your feet and leads you back down below deck. He takes in the turned-over tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous things. His door swung a little most likely from the event that just occurred above deck. Then he finds his anger calming down and he briefly feels amused when he sees the blanket and pillow from his quarters haphazardly strewn on the ground outside, quickly gathering that you most likely threw them at the guards. Meanwhile, you struggle against his grasp and demand he let you go, knowing that it’d fall on deaf ears. Regardless of how you try to squirm out of it, it is all in vain.

He soon sits you on the bed as he slams the door shut, his other hand now grips your free shoulder and now it’s just you and him.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, trying not to be threatening but the frustration in his voice was clear. After a night of rest, you’re able to fake a brave face as you mimic his expression, furrowing your brows and trying to form your lips into a scowl as equally severe looking as his.

“Where are you taking me?” You shot back.

His expression changes, seeing you doing your best to look threatening, and he fights the urge to pinch your cheek fondly and tease you for it. Already, he feels an old part of himself reawaken, a more softer and tender side that he had thought years of being a Templar had washed away. When he pulls his hands away from you and crosses them over his chest, he becomes noticeably less angry but he still keeps his somber appearance.

“Do you really think you’re in the position to ask questions?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You simply respond with a, “Don’t care. Where are you taking me?” 

The silence is loud, uncomfortably so. However, your apprehension soon turns into frustration. This man had murdered your found family, this man was a selfish self-righteous traitor, and not to mention that for some sick reason; he kept you alive. The very least he could do is give you some answers. You open your mouth to once again demand answers but he beats you to it.

“Here’s how this is gunna’ work now.” He begins finally, “I ask a question, you answer. Then you ask me, and I’ll answer.” 

“How do I know you’ll be honest?”

The corners of his mouth upturned into a little smile, one that only increased the rage and fear brewing deeply within you.

“I’ll be as honest as you are. And trust me, I’ll know when you tell me a lie.” He answers, sounding somewhat genuine but your mind remains ever skeptical. Leaning on the side of his desk, arms still crossed, he gives a look that almost reminds you of a parent staring down their child, “Do you understand?”

You stay silent out of malice and spite for a while but then your eyes look to the side in defeat, “Yes…”

“Good. First question: What’s your name?”

“Hezekiah Needleman.” 

His head lops to the side a little and he gives you a long stare, clearly not amused by your false answer, and you couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit smug at his reaction before you say: “Alright, fine…It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).”

“See how easy that was? Now, (Y/n), it’s your turn to ask a question-”

“Where are you taking me?” You demand once again.

“Home.”

It was a simple one-worded answer in any other situation, but in this context, it was like a baffling riddle. Raising more questions than answers, your expression becomes bewildered, “What do you mea-”

“Ah-ah, (Y/n). S’my turn,” He chides as unfolds his arms, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leans further onto it. You glare at him but stay silent so he can get his question over with, “Why did you join the assassins?” 

This question takes you off guard and your hand reaches to your other arm and grips it, a visible sign of discomfort, and your eyes quickly sadden in such a way that Shay almost wants to take back his question, unsure of what wounds he might’ve just opened.

“They raised me, why wouldn’t I?” You say, hatred once again growing for the man who stood across from you.

“What happened to your parents?” He asked, his intrigue growing.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?” You snapped. He wants to say something, to have the last word, but even he admits to himself he walked into that one. So he silently nods, a quiet gesture that lets you know it’s your turn to ask a question.

“What do you mean you’re taking me ‘home’? Where is this ship going?” 

Shay tries to figure out what he’s going to say, how he can explain it to you even though he struggles to really explain it himself. 

“Back to my estate. Where I will train you and show you what the Brotherhood really is.”

You open your mouth, again frustrated with how vague and confusing his answers are but then you close your mouth, not wanting to set yourself up for another pointless tease from him. Shay, quite pleased with your lack of rebuttal, then asks you: “Now, what of your family?”

“Dead. Because of you,” Your tone is bitter and your eyes harden again, “but if you’re talking about my real family, I don’t know. I was told the Templars were responsible for my becoming an orphan.”

“Did the Brotherhood tell you that?”

“Yes. And if you think the words of an old traitor are gonna change my mind, then I wish you the best of luck.” You snarl at him. 

Something about you calling him a “traitor” enrages him, definitely not towards you but that bitterness towards the Brotherhood grows at your words and you can see that your words stung him.

“You’ll find out very quickly, (Y/n), that I don’t need luck. I make my own.” He then straightens his back and goes towards the door of his quarters, “Question time is over.”

You stand up indignantly, demanding that he returns, but you’re only answer is the sound of the door closing; this time you hear it locking and you stand in silence before you growl and kick the leg of his bed.

Putting the keys to his quarters back into his pocket, Shay now understands just how tangled you are in the Brotherhood’s webs and how it’ll be hard work to get you to see the truth, but he is now more than certain that it’ll be for your own good. When he returns to the top of the deck, he feels raindrops and immediately looks up at the sky above.

The sky is grey and the clouds begin to darken. He knows that it'll just be a day or two of rain but he still thinks to himself that it'd be better to sail with caution. After all, he had precious cargo on board.

[bonesxbows]

Windy Old Weather (Shay Cormac x Reader)

Masterlist

A severe storm catches you and Shay off guard and you're forced to face your fears. Luckily he's there to keep you safe and comfort you through your anxiety.

(WARNINGS) - panic attack/anxiety attack behaviors described - thunderstorms - fear of thunderstorms

We recently had some pretty bad storms where I live and they scared the fuck out of me, I ended up having one of the worst panic attacks I've ever experienced. Me and my family are all okay but it was still hella scary, so I decided to write something about it. It took a couple of tries to get it right and I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but it's good enough for what I wanted it to be. Hopefully, it can help someone else who shares my fears. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated :)

-

Your feet slapped against the wet wooden boards of the docks outside of Fort Arsenal, rain thrashing around you and the wind screaming in your ears. Shay was close behind you, using a hand to shield his face from the assault of water being thrown at him, otherwise it was impossible to keep his eyes forward. He placed a hand on your back, urging you to keep moving as he ushered you towards the safety of his home. The rest of the crew would find their own shelter in the outer buildings, his main concern was you right now. There was no time to secure the Morrigan besides dropping anchor and tying one of her mooring lines to the dock. The storm had shown up abruptly, out of nowhere turning the once blue sky into an abysmal darkness, the rain and wind turning visibility to nothing. Shay counted his blessings that they hadn’t been that far from the Fort when the sky had turned sour, though he guessed his self-made luck had something to do with it. 

The two of you ran across the yard as fast as your legs could carry you, making it to the front door of the house just as a crack of lightning rang throughout the sky. You stood there panting and dripping water as Shay closed the door behind him. He moved over to the fireplace, tossing a few logs in and starting a spark. A warm orange glow soon filled the house, causing you to inch closer towards the heat, the cold being chased from your bones slowly as the warmth seeped in instead. Shay let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he could finally relax a little and let down his guard now that the two of you were somewhere safe and warm. 

He turned to you and placed an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer towards the fire. You had wrapped your arms around yourself, partly from the cold and partly to calm yourself down. You leaned into Shay, relishing his touch and body heat even though his clothes were still soaked. You began to shake, your teeth chattering. 

“Is the fire not warm enough, love?” he asked you, turning you to face him so he could rub his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm you up more.

“No Shay, it's alright. Thank you,” you told him, still shaking despite feeling the warmth radiating into your clothes and skin. Another boom of thunder and lightning shook the sky, illuminating the window panes with an eerie blue light. It made you jump and you started to panic uncontrollably, your breaths coming out shallow and fast-paced. Trying to get your heart rate to slow down was becoming impossible. It didn't take Shay more than a few seconds to figure out what was wrong. 

“Is it the storm? Does it scare you?” he asked. But before you could answer the two of you heard a loud splintering crack resound outside. You both turned to peek out the window towards the sound. One of the trees in the courtyard now lay sliced in two, its top now nothing more than a bundle of branches on the ground, its stump a ragged knife pointed up towards the sky. You instinctively covered your mouth with a hand to stifle a cry, though that didn’t stop your eyes from overflowing as tears began to flood your face. You turned back around and rushed into Shay’s arms, burying your head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him. The rain had caused his usual comforting smell to turn into a scent of wet gunpowder and spoiled whiskey but you didn’t mind. You were too frightened to care. 

“It’s just a storm, love. You’re okay,” he told you, running his fingers through your still-wet hair. 

“Make it stop Shay.” you cried into his chest, your voice slightly muffled from the layers of leather. You pawed at the back of his jacket, trying to find something, anything, to ground yourself with. 

“I’m right here. You’re safe, I swear. I won’t let anything happen to you.” he reassured you, though you stayed clinging to him. 

At some point he scooped you up into his arms, picking you up and carrying you to an armchair near the still roaring fireplace. He held you in his lap, letting you nestle your head in between his neck and the collar of his jacket. Eventually, the wind stopped howling and you stopped shaking but Shay never made a move to let go of you. He could feel your breath on his skin, your breathing slowly but surely returning to normal, as he continued to rake his hands through your hair soothingly. 

“Sorry…” you whispered into his ear, a little embarrassed that a storm had spooked you so easily. You had faced greater threats by Shay’s side and come out on top, yet one little storm had turned you into a sniveling childish mess. You had always had a fear of storms but living aboard the Morrigan didn’t leave much room for silly fears. But the abruptness of this one had startled you, unburying your anxiety that you had spent years covering up in a matter of minutes. 

“It’s alright, love. We’re all scared of something. Next time a storm comes we won’t be caught off guard like that. I’ll protect you.” he kept his voice low and soft, his accent coating his words like molasses. You truly did believe him. Now that he was aware of your fears he made a mental note to steer clear of situations that would spark your panic attacks. You still felt ashamed but you knew Shay would never belittle you, even over a fear of thunderstorms. When one of his hands found its way to your chin you let him guide your face out of the crook of his neck to where he could see you. You looked at him and there was a small smile on his lips, his puppy dog-like brown eyes gleaming with unconditional love. He used the pad of his thumb to gently wipe away any leftover tears under your eyes, placing a soft kiss on your forehead afterward. You couldn't help but return his smile with one of your own. 

[carissimipaixao]

For the Christmas prompts- could please I get protection with Shay Cormac? Happy holidays!! Thank youuu!!

─ PROTECTION

published on: january 25, 2023 requested by: @littlemisscare-all pairing: shay cormac & reader word count: 800+ note: submitted during the christmas inbox!

Since the very first moment that you met Shay Cormac, your life changed.

You often assisted the Finnegans’ — your neighbors — and it was during one of those days that their son’s boss and his men dragged a body inside, which you initially thought to be more dead than alive, upon spotting the blood and ugly bruise on the stranger’s head, along with a long cut from his forehead to below his right eye.

From then on, the list of tasks and chores that you did around the house grew ever so slightly to accommodate the stranger, to help him heal and get better as soon as possible — as it was requested by the Colonel. You did not know why he brought a wounded sailor or soldier to the house of two average citizens with little to no connection to the Royal Navy or His Majesty King George II, and you did find it confusing and odd.

When the house was attacked by a bunch of gang members, pushing Barry onto the floor, breaking the dishes and terrifying Cassidy. Even when they were chased away, after receiving a beating from your wounded patient, the threats that they left behind crawled inside your head and burned fear into your heart. Cassidy believed that it would be the safest if you were to remain with them, but you thought otherwise. You had never considered yourself to be the bravest soul, and thus, you ran from the danger.

But, you could never kill the paranoia and the dread. Everywhere you went, it seemed like the eyes of the gangs in New York followed your every move, watched you as you slept. Little by little, you thought yourself to be going insane.

Then, it happened — proving your suspicions.

On a nightly walk to your house, after handing Cassidy the groceries that the elderly couple needed inside their home for the following morning, you were stopped by a familiar face, whose nose had been crooked and broken since that fateful day. The man gave you a nasty grin, lips curled up like a wolf, and, pulled by your wrist by a strong grip, the man took you towards the docks. I hope you like swimming, miss, he had told you. Because that’s the last thing you’ll do.

A gag around your mouth and wrists bound together, you found yourself inside a ship — the name Serenity engraved on the back — and tossed inside a storage room. You heard the whispers and laughter as you walked on board, as those men cloaked in yellow and white spoke of your doom. She’s such a pretty thing. It’ll be a shame to toss her into the sea!

Hours have passed since the ship left the docks of New York. Since then, you have begun to pray to a higher being, someone who could save you from those monsters that had decided to kill you. For what purpose? You cannot help, however, but think that they are trying to get revenge through you, for their losses and the humiliation. When the ship shakes aggressively, the shouts begin and the bell rings, you close your eyes to stem the flow of tears.

You are certain that your death is coming. Then, when everything begins to die down, the clash of swords and the sound of gunshots decreasing, the door to the storage room rattles and you tremble. 

After a few more attempts, the door is ultimately kicked open, thus breaking the lock. Amongst the smoke and death that lies on the other side, a tall silhouette stands in the doorway, sword and dagger unsheathed. Half a beat of silence, and the figure approaches you as it puts the sword away. Your name comes out of your savior in a breathless whisper, as if suddenly frightened.

Shay kneels down in front of you, eyes frantic as they look over your face and body — searching for any wound. His eyes darken at the sight of your damp skin and red eyes, and he swiftly cuts the rope around your wrists with his dagger, before putting it away. ‘You’re safe now,’ he tells you as he takes the gag from your mouth. ‘Let’s get you out of here, lass.’

‘Shay,’ you call for him. You find yourself incapable, however, of getting up, tucked as you were in the corner of the room, arms around your knees. You feel your eyes water once more. You feel guilty for his troubles, but, most importantly, you wonder how he found you. It feels as if your roles have been reversed; in the beginning, you took care of him and made sure he got to his feet. It was a rocky journey, but, inevitably, Shay was out of the Finnegans’ house. And, now, he has saved you, rescued you from a certain death by the hands of the same men that had endangered you months ago.

Something shifts in your chest—no, you conclude. It’s only growing. You have often shoved the attraction for the Irishman, thinking of it as improper while you were tending to his wounds. There isn’t anything wrong if you acknowledge those feelings now, is there? You don’t know where his heart lies, but you are certain of yours.

His stare softens. Gently, he speaks. ‘Nobody will hurt you now. I won’t let them.’

And, since that moment, everything changes.

[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.”

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Oh my heart. Poor Shay. 💔💔💔

Closure

A/N: First time posting my writing ever and holy crap I’m super nervous, but here goes! ExAssassin!Reader follows Shay as he goes after Hope and, in the aftermath, takes her anger and confusion out on him.

Pairing: Shay Cormac x Reader

Words: 2,025

Warnings: Mentions of blood; Mentions of death

          “I can’t even begin to imagine what you were thinking!” He’d been going for nearly an hour, with his screaming and huffing and berating. Gist had made himself scarce almost immediately after the two of you had returned wanting to avoid Shay’s wrath, but you were sure he could hear him from the Morrigan by now. It was your fault, really, but what did Shay expect you to do? He was going after Hope of all people. He couldn’t have expected you to just sit and wait for his return. You thought he knew you better than that.

          You sit patiently, watching him wear out the floor. He gestures wildly with every word he spits, and you can see his face slowly beginning to turn red. You wish, then, that you had something to drink. As enticing as you find Shay’s voice, and even his anger under the right circumstances, he’s now only contributing to a headache that is adding to your silent fury. You try to distract yourself with of a piece of paper on his desk, picking at its corners while your gaze settles on the embers of the fireplace.

          “Do you hear me?!” Your attention returns to him, a little too calmly for his liking, and your fingers still.

          “I think all of New York hears you.”

          You know you shouldn’t provoke him, but you’re tired and angry and hurt and worst of all, petty, so fuck him.

          “How can you not realize how much danger you put yourself in tonight?! Do you know what could’ve happened if-”

          “I knew her better than you did.” The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them and you don’t regret them like you probably should. Shay’s mouth snaps shut for the first time since he’s entered the room but the look in his eyes tells you this is going to get worse before it gets better. You sit up straight, calmly clasping your hands together in front of you on the desk. His eyes hold a silent fury behind them but you meet them with an icy gaze that keeps him quiet.

          He doesn’t understand. Hope had been a mentor to you both, yes, but she was the one who brought you into the Brotherhood’s folds. She had been the one to help you escape the confines of your family and their much too traditional expectations of you. She was the one to train you, to push you, to raise you. There were sides to her that she had shown only you. You knew her better than anyone.

          Until Lisbon.

          You weren’t there when it happened. She had sent you to look into new reports of Templar activity in Boston, a decision you now realize had underlying motives. You returned only to have things explained away as though your entire world hadn’t come crashing down. Shay, your Shay, was dead and no one would give you a straight answer as to why or how. Hope began to keep you close, training you harder than she ever had, pushing and pushing and pushing. You were never out of her sight, her eyes always watching, always criticizing. Every move you made came under her harsh scrutiny and she excused her newly brutal attitude with claims it would help you move on and focus. But how could you even begin to focus when you seemed to be the only one who actually cared that Shay had died? 

          For the first time, you found yourself questioning the Brotherhood, questioning Hope.  

          You kept your concerns quiet, opting to observe in silence. Time passed with loneliness and introspection and you catch whispers of Portugal and should be dead and traitor and hunting us. A cold wall built slowly between you and the other assassins with bricks of skepticism and distrust and betrayal. 

          Because they were clearly keeping something from you. 

          Hope was keeping something from you.

          A something that landed roughly on top of you when you snuck into town for a few drinks. You would’ve blamed the alcohol for making you see ghosts had Shay’s weight not been keeping you pinned to the ground. He seemed surprised at how calmly you regarded him, but you’d had your suspicions about his “death” and Hope’s reliability for months. You listened to his story about Lisbon and the precursor sites and the Templars and felt an odd relief at the pieces that had started to come together, instantly accepting his offer to leave with him.

          You were inducted into the Templars a month later, rejoining Shay both in battle and in bed with your life finally beginning to make sense again.

          Which made this entire situation even more infuriating. Because he went after Hope. He went after Hope and didn’t tell you. And maybe in the final months of your relationship with her you didn’t know her as well as you thought, but you sure as hell knew her better than he did, and you deserved to be apart of this.

          Shay says your name through gritted teeth, stalking forward to lay his palms flat on the desk. “You could have gotten hurt,” he grounds out. You blink, your hands clasping together tight enough for your nails to leave indents on your skin.

          “Yes,” you speak evenly, “Hope seemed very lethal while she laid on the ground bleeding from her stomach.” That was what bothered you the most, not that you would ever admit it. You had arrived at Hope’s warehouse just in time to watch her final moments from the shadows. While you didn’t hate watching her die, you certainly weren’t pleased because she may have been the enemy, but she was still Hope and there were a lot of things that still needed to be said between you. You wanted to know how she had become so desperate that she was willing to allow mass destruction for the Brotherhood. You wanted to know when she decided to disregard your entire relationship and shut you out. You wanted to know she didn’t trust you enough to just tell you the truth.

          And Shay had stolen that from you. Any closure you might’ve had was taken with a moment that was far too touching for your liking. You watched her lament Shay’s wasted potential with a hand to his cheek that he held with his own, an unfamiliar pit clawing its way from your stomach up into your throat as the situation fully hits you. Hope is dead. Just like Kesegowaase and Adéwalé and countless others that you would’ve once died to protect. They’re all gone and you know, deep in your heart, their blood stains your palms as much as it does Shay’s.

          You steel yourself, eyes boring into Shay’s. He never gave you a chance to explain yourself, only dragging you back to Fort Arsenal when he discovered you and exploding at you moments later. He doesn’t understand. But you’re damn sure going to make him.

          You sit for a moment, contemplating your words. Shay stares down at you as you unclasp your hands, with indentations from your nails left red and bleeding, to place them flat on the desk. You rise from the chair, standing to match Shay’s height and give him the coldest look you can manage. He takes a step back, still scowling, crossing his arms defensively. He says your name, stern and low, like he’s chastising a child.

          “She didn’t trust me,” you cut him off, “and I don’t know why. As close as I thought we were, she didn’t trust me enough to tell me about Lisbon, or about you. Instead, she hid it all from me, keeping me nearby so she and Liam could watch me, making me apart of their plans as a means to distract me.” You take slow, cautious steps towards the fireplace, your eyes never leaving his face.

          “And if she had?” There’s no more anger in his voice but his tone is far from friendly.  

          “…I would’ve stayed. You and I would’ve met under completely different circumstances and…I’d probably be dead, just like everyone else.” You turn away from him to look at the fire. You run your fingers over the beads of blood bubbling from the nail marks on your knuckles, flinching slightly at the sting it brings. You’re not sure if it’s true, you’d like to think that you wouldn’t have fallen into the Brotherhood’s delusions, but your faith in Hope had been strong and with the right words you know she probably could’ve convinced you to stay. “It would’ve been a short life, but I wouldn’t have had to live knowing that she thought I wasn’t good enough for the truth.”

          “She didn’t think that.” 

          He almost sounds like he believes that.

          “I can’t ask her now, can I?” You send him an icy glare over your shoulder before turning back to the flames. “You took that away from me.” The laugh that leaves your mouth is humorless and you miss the way it makes Shay flinch.

          A moment passes before you hear Shay sigh. There are a few hesitant steps towards you, “I…”

          “Sometimes, I wish you died.” You turn and look him dead in the eyes when you speak. It’s the cruelest thing you can think to say, and it’s not entirely untrue. If he had died there never would’ve been anything for Hope to hide from you. There would’ve never been an Assassin Hunter to murder your former friends. You would’ve lived in ignorance, but it would’ve been a blissful ignorance with people you could look in the eye without feeling shame and regret wash over you.

          But you know that eventually, you would’ve discovered the truth about the precursor sites and the destruction the artifacts cause. And you know no amount of sweet words from Hope would’ve convinced you to believe that such a massive loss of innocent life was okay.  

          You’re feeling angry and hurt and confused and too many other things for your brains to process right now and while you’re sure Shay deserves something for leaving without telling you, you know he doesn’t deserve the way you’re taking your emotions out on him. There’s going to be a long discussion in the days to come regarding where your relationship stands after your confession but all you can think about now is how seeing him just as hurt as you makes you feel better. This’ll come back to haunt you, in the end, but you’re feeling bitter and you’re feeling petty and want to ride the high from the temporary satisfaction that his pain is giving you before you crash and burn.

          A knock at the door forces your attentions away from each other. Shay gives you a look that you can’t entirely decipher before he opens the door. He talks to someone you can’t see in hushed voices and the person leaves as quickly as they came. Shay runs his hands down his face with a long sigh. For a moment you can see just how tired he is, how much strain working against the Brotherhood has put on him. He regrets the way things have ended up as much as you do and your heart wrenches painfully. You almost call out to him, the words catching in your throat as Hope’s lifeless body flashes through your mind.

          “I have to go,” he murmurs, risking a glance towards you. You heard Hope mention Liam’s whereabouts and there’s not a doubt in your mind that’s where Shay intends to go next. Liam means as much to him as Hope meant to you and you feel sympathetic until it crosses your mind that even if killing Liam will be the hardest decision he’s ever had to make, he’ll still get the closure you never will. The realization only increases your ill-placed anger. He watches you, almost hopeful that you’ll say something to affirm that you’re merely upset and do still love him. You can’t look at him, tearing your eyes away as they start to well.

          “I meant it, you know.”

          You didn’t.

          He walks out the door.

[howtotrainabraincell]

Head cannons bc I can - Assassin’s body parts preferences (and extras...)

AN: I would just like to say that ALL of the Assassin's will protect their love with their lives, not standing for any disrespect or rudeness toward her in any way shape or form. I may not have put it in the description of every Assassin, but it goes without saying. ALSO, plz don't @ me bc this is my first ever spicy post lol

Altair Ibn La’Ahad - loves burying his face in her neck and grabbing her backside cheekily lol, loves bathing with her but won’t deny that’s it’s hard to control himself around her naked body. Comes to her after a mission (if they didn't go on it together that is or if she's not an assassin) to hold her and just melts against her, grateful to have her and be back in her arms alive. Pulls her away ever so often to a corner where he'll kiss her breathless and then just walk off like nothing happened (this man-), loves to chase lol if she runs from him, it sets something deep and primal off in him, and when he eventually catches her? 😳😳😳

Shay Patrick Cormac - definitely breasts lol and has a thing for waists, also loves thighs & has a thing for kissing from the top of her foot to the inside of her thighs, this man can pick up grown soldiers, flip them over his shoulder and then just toss them to the ground like it nothing so he’s strong - tell.me he doesn’t pick up his love and carry her off for some alone time. She won't have to worry about anyone on the Morrigan getting any ideas because Shay has made it VERY clear that she's his and his only. He'll legit fight for her if someone makes her uncomfortable or harasses her and make them regret the day they were born (that is if they can even think afterward bc they'll probably be dead). It - depending on the mood he's in - makes him feel very loved and cared for or very turned on and ready to pin her down, when she kisses the scar over his eye. Don't even get me started on how naughty this fricken man is in Irish Gaelic. (Sir! Control thyself!)

Edward Kenway - an ass man for sure and he loves the thighs too, stands behind her and glares at anyone who checks her out from his spot behind her where he’ll press a possessive kiss to her shoulder while glaring at them. Why do I have feeling that this man has a thing for women who can shoot guns? If she shoots a gun in front of him all pirate-esque he'll literally beg her to step on him haha. Loves him a mouthy feisty woman because not only does it turn.him.on, he gets a kick out of a lovely woman being able to blow someone out of the water with her insults & statements of self-defense. Will also waylay anyone who disrespects her, he'll actually feed them their teeth (don't test him with her)

Jacob Ethan Frye - both the man’s bi lol he can have both if he wants, he for sure does playful butt pats and grabs occasionally but usually when they’re alone (USUALLY & if a Rook bore witness? THEY SAW NOTHING), definitely into holding his love on his lap and whispering dirty things in her ear to fluster her. Will fight to protect her and God help them because they'll have him and the Rooks to deal with (that is if Jacob doesn't crush them and turn them into dust that blows away in the wind lol). Also loves him a feisty and mouthy woman, if she's sarcastic, witty and goofy on top of that? This man is more whipped than whipped cream. Total gentleman even if she can hand his ass to him on a silver platter, he still treats her with utmost respect. Enjoys lying in bed with her and cuddling (give the man all the cuddles STAT) lazily playing with her hair and believe it not - not all kissing with the amorous assassin leads to *wink wink*. He genuinely enjoys laying there with her on a slow day and kissing her sweetly, over and over again. Man is a genuine romantic sweetheart (and nothing will change my mind). It's not an odd occurrence for Evie to wonder where her younger brother is, only to find him conked out on his love's chest just peacefully snoozing away as she holds him reading a book or some files. Totally see him tracing his fingers down her sternum until he reaches her breasts and tracing the insides of them to get her riled up (if he's feeling mean he'll even give a cheeky kiss haha). Also loves to chase her across rooftops and make bets of a spicier nature...

Evie Frye - loves to kiss her loves hands & jaw (particularly that one little spot…) and trace kisses down her sternum, has a habit of cornering her and making out with her lol then she just goes on about her day like nothing happened, plays footsies underneath table surfaces (CHANGE MY MIND). Loves all of her and honestly don't think she would have a preference, Evie's just grateful to have her at all and be with her. Woman was dedicated to being alone as a result of being in the Brotherhood. Think she would get a kick out of witty and playful banter, the more her love speaks the more in love she falls and the more she desires her. She's good with her hands. I said it. Sue me. She.has.good.hands. The woman tis skilled (in more ways than one...) This also pertains to corsets and buttons whether it be doing them or undoing them... Kind think she would like chasing her love through the city too and if it ends up in a garden? The woman internally swoons.

Kassandra of Sparta - breasts she likes pulling her love against her and then looking down to see them pressed against her armor being gorgeous as usual and she loves to grab hips, she will CUT Alcibiades if he looks at her love lol bc she KNOWS what he's thinking about, only lets her hair down around her love and adores laying in between her thighs while her fingers give her a head a very relaxing massage (seriously they can put the woman to sleep lol)

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway - I think we can all agree that this sweet man isn't very sexual BUT once he settles down, he does have an appreciation for his loves figure. Loves to hover over her from behind and kiss the top of her head, and when things get more intimate between them, he loves to give her kisses all over her face. Flowers with him would be a common occurrence, often times she wakes up to beautiful wildflowers on her bedside table or on the pillow beside her. This man is a good provider. And if she takes an interest in hunting with him, more than a few times he'll briefly lose interest in hunting the animal and playfully hunting her instead... Feel like he strokes her legs lovingly and takes his time exploring the sexual feelings he has for her. He would love her breasts because they're beautiful, soft and full of life.

Alexios of Sparta - ass for sure he seems like a butt smacker haha she’ll be minding her own business when he comes out of nowhere and gives her a light loving smack. He comes up behind her and literally sweeps her off her feet - no pleasantries, just "you're mine now" lol

Haytham Kenway - breasts has a thing for tracing the tops of them when she wears dresses to get her riled up all while delivering an “innocent” kiss to her flaming red cheek, will randomly stoop to her level to whisper something 😳 in her ear. Get a vibe that he would spoil her with beautiful jewelry and then woo her until it's the only thing she has on, before taking her to bed... Morning sex seems like the norm for him because he's not always there when she falls asleep arriving home late, but when he sees her in the morning, he more than makes it up to her and greets her in very steamy manner. He reminds her to remain neutral when she stands next to him during a meeting as he sits down with his hand hidden by her dress on her backside gently squeezing and acting completely casual about it the cheeky -

Desmond Miles - breasts & when Shaun stresses him out, he presses his head into them lol it’s stress relieving, comes up behind her and hugs her tightly, definitely into spooning he likes the physical contact, and he melts when she kisses his forehead. Before everything he screwed, but now with the woman he loves? He makes love and thoroughly enjoys every second of it with her. Having her by his side through everything means more to him than he can express.

Arno Victor Dorian - this man feels like a worshipper he would love all of her body and take his time with her, but he does tend to go for breasts more coming out of nowhere and kissing the tops of them reverently throughout the day, definitely takes her hand in his and kisses it with full eye contact to the point where it makes her blush, earning a chuckle from him. Tell me that this man doesn't pull her away to corners throughout the day or on a mission and kiss her before walking away casually like nothing happened lol. Got a feeling he's very into whisking his love away just getting her attention and pulling her away to wherever they can have a few moments alone together. Good kisser. I refuse to believe anything else. He swoops in gives a sweet kiss that leaves her flustered, and he stands there watching her with a smile on his face. For some reason I think he's into the whole secret lover rendezvous thing, aka coming in through his love's window or meeting her secretly (it's exciting and he gets her all alone...)

Ezio Auditore Da Firenze - also feels like a worshipping type of man except everywhere, everything, all the time lol, but he does have a preference for breasts often times hugging his love around the waist and burying his face in them. We've all seen how this man has thing for pinning his lady to the wall...do with it what you will. But he does it to her and OFTEN lol. A little more promiscuous in public - stopping of course if she gets uncomfortable - than others and is not afraid to show how he feels about her. Also, a good kisser. I mean COME ON.

Bayek of Siwa - he loves her breasts because beneath them lies her heart and he cherishes the fact that she has given it to him, loves to star gaze with her - they lay there together peacefully as he tells her about the constellations and their meaning. Loves bathing with her just laying back and relaxing, eyes roving her form as she cleans him and gives him a shave (he refuses to shave unless she does it for him bc he loves her touch and how great her handiwork is). Gives the kinds of kisses that melt her like a stick of butter lol, a kiss from him has a lot of emotion poured into it telling without words how much he loves her.

[demigoddessqueens]

How would Altair, Shay, Basim and Arno react if their pregnant assassin/templar reader tries to go on a mission?

Ty 💕

You got it nonnie 😘😁

Masterlist 10

Altair

Will be VERY upset/annoyed because how could you be so reckless and careless!! He lost someone he thought he had a chance of life with, but now with you, it’s even more precious and hopeful for once and he’ll never stop fighting to protect that

Shay

His fiery temper will most likely rear its head because why would you think going on mission is a good idea ??

If this is during his Assassin-turned Templar arc, his frustration stems from wanting to protect you if others tried to use it as leverage against him

Basim

Sit back down, you are not going anywhere! Yes he knows you are more than capable of fending yourself and he trusts you, but Basim doesn’t trust others that easily, and he knows no mercy will be extended if someone hurt you or his unborn child

Arno

He will be very upset with you, considering all the loss he faced in life, like it would very much be a teary-eyed argument (on his end) with you both.

Once the dust settles and you two get a chance to talk, it’s more of addressing and soothing the fears Arno has from his life. He adores and loves you so much, and his heart couldn’t take it if you were gone.

[weirdest-lights]

Shay and Haytham aren't having a good time with the new stray.

[intoxicated-chan]

Could I possibly ask for NSFW Shay x reader content? If you’re not in the mood for anything smutty then just general Drabble/hc content is more than fine too! Any Shay content is welcome 🖤

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Summary ➳ When Shay remembers your dream to see the Northen lights, it takes the chance to take you there and love you under the stars.

(A/n) ➳ Your wish is my command! If you guys have any Shay requests, I’m open!! This was more fluff than smut, I honsetly got carried away with this.

Word Count ➳ 2.6k

Content warnings ➳ Female reader/Navigator reader, teasing, jealousy, mentions of killing, sexual content, public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, penetration, p-in-v, creampie...

Everyone knew that Shay and Chevalier never got along. At first, Shay could take it, the insults, and the fights, but it became worse when Chevalier overheard Shay’s desire to court you. It was during an argument when it was brought up, teasing Shay, laughing at him, and getting physical with him, laughing at his missed punches. As usual, Liam stepped in, silencing Chevalier, and snatching Shay away.  

Shay could still hear his laughter as Liam tried his best to comfort his best friend. But Chevalier became his nightmare when he arrived from a mission to find you and Chevalier sitting on the steps of the manor, a happy expression on your face as Chevalier spoke to you.  

He stepped in, questioning why Chevalier was still here when Achilles was looking for him. But Chevalier saw right through his act, knowing how it pissed Shay off to see you with him and so before he left, he gifted you a book, one that you have been looking for.  

Shay hated how your eyes gleamed as you took the book from his hands and continuously thanked him. It was a rare book in your eyes. You escaped from your home, just days away from marrying an older nobleman when you turned eighteen.  

Shay knew that you knew Chevalier was being kind to you. Another rarity around here and he tried not to take it to heart.  

“Is something the matter?” You asked Shay, obviously clueless and knocking Shay out of his mind. “Did the mission not go as planned?”  

“Everything is alright.” He replied, giving you his signature smile. “I’ll meet you on the Morrigan?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.  

“Oh yes! I have a charted map that I must give.” You nodded. “Chevalier said I was learning rather quickly.”  

“Did he now?”  

You nodded once again before scurrying off, waving him goodbye. He watched your figure head towards the Morrigan, making sure he saw you entering the cabin of the ship. 

And after giving his report to Achilles, you were not in the cabin anymore. You were relaxed, sitting on his ship as you read your book. You just looked so beautiful unbothered and hated to bother you, you were enjoying the moment.  

You swiped the strays of hair in your face away, trying to focus on your book. “Chevalier certainly knows what interests you.” He commented. “My men say you refuse to move, that you refused to sing with them. I thought you enjoyed Leave her, Johnny.”  

“Chevalier’s taste is quite different than mine, I’d give him quite a scare if he truly read the contents of this book.” You marked the page of your book before closing it carefully. “I did not sing but I loved their voices. We should have them perform.”  

“Might I see?” Shay reached for the book, but you pulled it out of his reach. “C’mon, you’ve got nothing to hide from me!”  

“No.” You immediately said but your smile did not falter. “I must show you the map, I’ve located numerous military camps with supplies. They will be useful to the Morrigan.”  

You both walked to the captain’s cabin, Shay opened the door to let you in first and then closed it behind him. He followed you to the table with the map laid out, a part of North America with marked points.  

“It’s quite chilly but Chevalier it would be worth it.” You commented, pointing at one at a time to explain. “When I was using the spyglass, I was able to get some of the contents of the supplies. Here, you get wood and metal. And here, cannons. There is a fort here so you must tread carefully-”  

Shay didn’t bother to listen, rather, he took in your features, how your finger tapped in a certain pattern when at a marked location, how you went into detail about certain patterns soldiers take, or how each of the supplies can help the ship or crew in many ways. 

Memories of a conversation he had with you weeks earlier came through his mind, your laughter, your casual mention of an ethereal light. It all started when you went to North Atlantic once, the temperatures were freezing, and you remained up on the Crow’s Nest. He went to get you himself and he saw you stare up at the sky, like you were waiting for something.  

You explained the stories of his and Chevalier’s crew speaking of green arches that curve across the sky, lights dancing in the sky. You wished to see them yourself instead of hearing them or paintings, you wanted to gaze your eyes upon them.  

You were exquisite, magnificent, alluring... He knew the perfect time to take you to see the northern lights, he wanted to be the first to take you, to see your eyes gleam once more.  

“Are you listening to me, Shay?” 

Shay cleared his throat. “O-Of course!” He answered awkwardly. He tried to play it off, but you did not see him staring again. To see you so focused and helping him, made him all giddy, you are available for him. “You were talking about... Um, that camp.” He gestured vaguely towards the map. 

“Really?” You lifted an eyebrow, sneering but in a joking manner that Shay understood. You then pointed at one mark. “What does this camp hold?” You questioned.  

He leaned over the table, taking a moment to think. “Ammo! There's ammo.”  

You shook your head as you tapped the spot your finger still rested on. “That is not a military camp, Shay. It is a hunting location. I marked it for personal use. Might find some deer or rabbit there.”  

He was caught off guard, his cheeks had a tinge of red on them. “Right, of course. I knew that.” He rumbled, trying to recover.  

But your demeanor shifted from playful to worried. You have never seen Shay so distracted before. “There must be something on your mind. I have never seen you so distant.” Your tone became soft, folding your arms.  

He let his eyes wander, taking everything in the cabin except you. “It’s nothing too worrying.” He assured you but when he looked at you, his resolve softened. “I was thinking what you said once, about the lights, the ones you did not know the name of.”  

“The dancing lights in the sky?” Your expression slowly brightened when you realized. “Yes, yes. They say it is like the heavens themselves are celebrating or the spirits were dancing.” You awed with wonder.  

“I was thinking... Perhaps we could set a course north. Father than we had planned before. I would like to take you to see the northern lights or as Hope calls them aurora... Borealis?” Struggling to pronounce the name, he cursed at himself for screwing it up.  

The surprise and delight he saw on your face was worth more than all the treasures they had plundered. You stepped around the table and came closer to him. “Really? You would do that for me?”  

Shay nodded, placing both his hands on your shoulders. “Yes, I believe it’s time we chased something beautiful, not just profitable or killable.” 

“I’d like that very much, Shay.” His hands moved to cup your face, your eyes locking with his. “Thank you.”  

Nothing is said between you both, your faces just inches apart. The candlelight flickered, adding a touch to the moment. Shay started to lean in first, and you followed his lead. Your lips were about to touch until the doors to the captain’s cabin burst open.  

Liam barged in, he looked urgent but froze in place when he saw how close you two were. “Shay, (Y/n), sorry but-” Liam started, his eyes darting between you two. A smirk was briefly on his lips but stopped when Shay glared at him. He composed himself. “Achilles gave us orders. We need to set sail immediately.”  

The two of you pulled apart from each other, embarrassed, but you tried masking your disappointment, covering it up with a poor attempt at professionalism.  

Shay patted himself down, turning to face Liam. “And?” He motioned Liam to continue.  

“We’re goin’ North Atlantic.” Liam handed Shay a scroll. “The French are moving deeper, Achilles believes they have a lead on another Assassin branch, he wants us to intervene.”  

You fumbled with your hands, clasped together. “I shall start preparing the crew, check supplies, and repair the Morrigan if necessary.”  

As you moved past Liam to exit the cabin, Liam leaned closer to Shay, his voice low but teasing. “Trying to one-up the Chevalier, eh?” He chuckled, but then his tone became serious. “Make sure your head stays in the game Shay.”  

“Always, Liam.”  

With that, Liam left the cabin, the doors closing with a soft thud. Shay stood there, hands on his hips as he let out a frustrated groan. He was so close! He took a deep breath as he had weeks or months to try again.  

Besides, if Hope was correct, it would soon be the perfect moment to see one.  

The Morrigan was anchored in the icy waters of the North Atlantic.  

Liam left the crew’s sleeping quarters after checking for injuries or casualties. He dismissed those standing on the deck of the ship to get some sleep, he and the captain, along with their navigator were going to keep watch for this night. He needed everyone rested and ready.  

He stood at the wheel, arms crossed, and reamined still.  

Up on the crow’s nest, the air was crisp, and the stars shined in the sky. Shay climbed the rigging to the nest, where he found you leaning again the wooden frame, gaze fixed on the sky. You twiddled with your fingers. He was able to sense the nervousness raiding off your body.  

The deep breaths you took, letting out small clouds of your breath each time you exhaled, and shifting side to side. You wore thick clothing to shield you from the weather and the gloves he gave you when you forgotten yours somehow... He took them. 

“Beautiful night.” Shay commented, his voice low as not to startle you. He leaned against the wooden railing next to you.  

A smile tugged your lips, though your eyes didn’t exactly show it. “It is.” You agreed, then sighing, lowering your head. “The lights... Will they be as the crew described them to be? The heavens celebrating, the spirits dancing. What if they don’t appear? what if they’re not everything I had hoped for?”  

Shay looked out across the sky, which was turning darker by the minute, and then back at you. “They will be.” He said, confident. “They’ll surpass every tale, every painting you have ever seen.”  

“I hope you’re right, Shay.” You laid your head on your arms, tired.  

It was a comfortable silence, waiting in the cold as the last light of the day vanished. Shay could sense the disappointment coming off you, he was ready to tell you to rest until he saw a faint flow.  

It grew brighter, greens with blues, it stretched across the sky like ribbons of lights. It was like its own river.  

He nudged her, pointing upward. “Look.” He whispered.  

Your confusion turning awe as you saw the gentle wisps growing. The ocean reflected the colors of green and blue, maybe even purple. It was more of what they said, heavens celebrating and the spirits dancing...  

“The aurora borealis.” You gasped. Your eyes wide in amazement. You could not describe the beauty of the lights, it would not compare to seeing it yourself. “I...” And you didn’t know what to say. All you could focus on was the colors dancing.  

Shay watched your face, it was illuminated by the ethereal grow. It him smile to see your eyes glimmer like before, the slight parting of your lips, your face so focused. His hand reached up to gently turn your face towards him.  

“Shay-” 

“Even more beautiful.” He couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned in, pressing his lips onto yours in a kiss, the only warmth in the chilly night.  

You responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around him as you returned the kiss. “Please Shay.” You groaned in his mouth. “Please.”  

You pushed him against the wooden mast, he kept his hands on your hips as he sat down with you right on his lap. Shay pulled out his knife, cutting a hole in your pants. He tossed the knife aside.  

Your breath hitched at the air hitting your cunt. Shay stuck two fingers in his mouth then slowly pushed them inside you. He thrusted it in and out of you, he worked his fingers deep inside you, he used his thumb to work on your clit, easing the pain, and making you clench around his fingers.  

Shay then stopped and slipped his finger out of you, making you gasp, in shock at the sudden loss. You clicked your tongue, slipping your hands down his chest and to his breeches.  

“Impatient, are we?” He smirked, watching you pulling his cock out.  

You angled your hips, gripping his shoulders as you rubbed the slit of your cunt against the hard cock.  

Shay gave you one last kiss, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, his facial hair tickling you. “Careful.” Shay warned you. “Don’t go hurting yourself.”  

You trembled as you sank onto his cock, hissing in between your teeth. You choked on your moans as you took his full length then circled your hips.  

You began to bounce up and down his cock, he let out a louder moan. You cried out, throwing your head back. “Oh god, Shay!” You sobbed.  

Shay managed to push you to change positions, laying you on your back where your legs kept him close and inside of you. Your nails bug into the back of his assassin’s coat and Shay planted kisses on your exposed neck.  

He started at a slow pace, making sure you could feel him. Your eyes flickered open, looking up at the northern lights still there.  

“More Shay, please.” Feeling your high approaching.  

He picked up his pace, lifting his head up, and squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his jaw. But he too, opened his eyes. He can see the northern lights reflecting in your eyes. You looked out of this world.  

That's when you looked him in the eyes, he froze for a moment. Your hand reached to the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss him.  

He continued, feeling his orgasms building along with yours. And after a couple of more thrusts, you both let out loud moans, he cursed as he felt you clamp down around him as he comes inside of you. 

Shay had no qualms about the cold, he took off his assassin’s coat to wrap it around you. He then tucks himself back into his pants and you sit up, feeling the stickiness in between your legs.  

You both sat against the mast. A smile on your face as you laid your head on his shoulder, panting. “Better than the tales and paintings.”  

Though the northern lights were gone, he could still envision them. “I’ll always take to see them.”  

“That would be impossible Shay. But I would love to see them now and again.”  

Shay snorted, standing up and grabbing your hands. You wobbled, falling into his chest. “I’ll go as far as I can to take you to see them.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “And I’ll take you under them each time.”  

“Since when did you become so romantic?”  

“Since I read your book.”  

“Shay!” You smacked his chest while he laughed.  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

[wyyvernn]

https://www.tumblr.com/wyyvernn/730490424355176448/hello-i-am-so-sorry-if-this-is-random-as-heck-but?source=share

Can we get a headcanon of something like this? Pls with Shay and Vampire Haytham? Pls

A/n: Oooh good taste anon! Slowly building up this vampire au hehe. Also reader is already a vampire and part of the order. I wasn't sure if this was a ship request but there are implications of poly in the post I guess, but otherwise it's mostly Shaytham. I really didn't know what to do with this so sorry if it's bad ahaha 😅

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

- You didn't know what to make of Shay at first. He was a vampire hunter and one of the Assassins sent to kill off your Grand Master.

- Of course it failed. No one lives to tell the tale when you make an attempt on the Grand Master's life.

- But unexpectedly, Haytham spared him. Curiosity maybe? Potential? Whatever the reason, Shay became a worthy initiate of the Order. Whether it was Haytham's words of manipulation or an understanding on Shay's part, Shay eventually went on to become one of the Order's most efficient members.

- He becomes a welcome addition to the Order very quickly even if he's not inducted straight away or turned into a vampire. His roguish charm and wit are what draws you in, makes for interesting company when boredom strikes.

- Shay is a little wary being constantly surrounded by vampires and when he spots you or Haytham drinking blood, he's disturbed but mostly intrigued. 'What does it taste like?' He thinks. He's tasted blood many times before, a sock to the mouth and red staining his lips. It's like licking the metal of a blade. Maybe it's different for you and the others.

- Eventually when the time finally arrives and Shay has proved his loyalty, Haytham is the one to turn him with you overseeing the change. It's a private matter and one that the Grand Master wants to get over with. But Shay finds it all rather intimate, more than he probably should, and he finds himself leaning into Haytham as the older man buries his fangs in his neck. There's a grunt or two from the younger, and a deep groan from the other as he takes a mouthful before injecting his venom in return. Haytham gets carried away a bit and you can't help but tilt your head when you catch the disappointment on his brow as he pulls away. He never gets carried away.

- When the ceremony is over and you're tugging Shay with you to celebrate, Haytham finds himself gently touching his lips, almost in disbelief...or delight? He wants more. But for the sake of his self-control, he keeps his thoughts pushed away somewhere in the back of his head. He banishes the desires from his mind yet everytime he sees you or Shay, together or not, the cravings return and Haytham becomes a very dangerous man.

[s0larine]

𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

as my mother tongue is french, i may make some grammatical mistakes in english. if you see any, please don't hesitate to correct me! i usually try to correct them on proofreading, but i may forget some. thank you in advance!

ASSASSIN'S CREED

　　　Haytham Kenway -ˋˏ # 1 coming soon...

　　　Shay Patrick Cormac -ˋˏ # 1 a dance at the masquerade; part 1 || part 2 (wip)

© solarine. i do not allow my works to be copied, translated, modified, adapted or published on other platforms without my permission. thank you for your attention.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[recreationalfanfics]

A Brewing Storm

Pt. 2

Summary: In which an older Templar Shay adopts a teenage novice assassin Reader on sight.

Notes: Reader's age is 18, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story, this was not proofread, yandere themes involved

You huff out a breath of air, your throat feels like it just swallowed fire, and your body feels heavier and heavier, but you will yourself to continue despite all the pain. You can barely hear the shouts of your pursuers over the thundering of your beating heart in your chest. You’re running even if you don’t know where. 

Where could you go that they couldn’t follow?

What place is there that you can hide from them? 

Images of your fallen brothers and sisters start to flash in your mind, motivating you to run faster no matter how bad your body aches, and causing tears to pool up in the corners of your eyes. Some part of you still believes that, somehow, what you saw was not true. When you turn the corner into an alleyway, you wanted to believe chasing Templars would be cut down by your comrades, but instead, there is nothing but barrels you have to jump over and civilians you have to push into their way. The hidden blade feels like it’s burning into your skin as if it was angry that you weren’t more experienced enough to use it to attack. One of them lunges at you and you yelp when you feel their hand grab your robe, reaching just enough to pull down your hood from your head, but you sped up and managed to evade their grasp.

You can’t keep this up. 

You can’t outrun them, you can’t overpower them, and you especially can’t count on anyone to help you out. 

You try and grab onto a window, to start climbing, but then one of them grabs your foot and throws you to the ground. You fall on your side, your breathing is so heavy that you’re beginning to gasp for air, your tears so heavy that they obscure your vision and fall onto the stone ground beneath you, and even though your arms managed to raise your body; you can’t bring yourself to raise your head. You feel pathetic and helpless as they all stand around you, throwing you around like a ragdoll, taunting you, and yelling at you. 

“How sad.” One sneered and you hear him readying your musket, and your crying becomes heavier as you close your eyes, “the other novices had some fight in them.”

He was right, your fellow novice assassins ignored the orders of the older assassin’s and even though they ended up dead, at least they went down bravely. Unlike you, surrounded by Templars anyone else could’ve easily evaded, about to be shot and put down like a sick dog. The taunts ring in your ears as you grit your teeth and accept your fate, you weren’t naive enough to expect mercy from them, and your throat was so overcome with sobs and pants you couldn’t even beg for your life if you wanted to. The captain aims his weapon at your sorry state, and you ready yourself to feel whatever pain the bullet brings you.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

The templar who was about to shoot you turns around, a violent fire in his eyes as he sees who dares to yell at him like that, only for it to die down when he sees a dark figure. He lowers his weapon to his side as he and his subordinates part a path for the newcomer.

“M-Mr. Cormac…we weren’t aware you were here.” The captain stammers.

Your eyes open when you hear the name. “Cormac”, the name of the assassin-turned-templar, the one who your guild was warned about but was so confident that because they were so newly formed, he’d never find out about them. Your chest feels cold and hollow as the sound of heavy boots comes closer and closer to you, you raise your head and stare at the man who was on a quest to slaughter anyone and everything touched by the Brotherhood. Shay looks back at you, his dark eyes staring into the depths of your soul and sending chills down your spine. His eyes hold a bitter and serious gaze, the first thing you compare them to in your mind was a brewing storm at sea. Harsh, unforgiving, and filling you even more with a sense of dread. 

You heard rumors of how other assassins had been brutally killed by him, some rumors going into disgusting detail that made you skeptical, but now it seems you had the misfortune of finding out yourself if they were true or not.

“Were you going to kill them, Captain?” Shay asks, his eyes still trained on you.

Your crying has simmered but you still sniff and whimper. His brows furrow and his eyes soften as he feels nothing but pity for you, your young and frightened face pulling at his heartstrings, and he frowns seeing just how terrified you are. You notice these changes in his expression, unaware that something about you is stirring something within him, and wish he would just kill you already.

“They’re an assassin, sir.” The Captain responds, avoiding the very direct “yes” or “no” question as he stares at the man cautiously. Shay’s eyes move away from you and pierce the man as his scowl grows, “I am aware. Were you going to kill them?”

Now everyone around you is uneasy, their eyes trained on the two men. The Captain tries to swallow his fear before he answers but it failed to work, seeing as he answers with a shaky and fearful: “Yes.”

Turning his gaze towards you once again, Shay kneels down and you instinctively move away from him. He pauses in his movements before he gently assures you that he won’t hurt you but you don’t believe him. Not when he has the blood of your friends and found family staining his hands. Quickly accepting that he was as close as you would allow him to be, he studies you and your injuries. Your bruised face, your swollen lip, all of these injuries you didn’t even notice until he spoke up about them.

“How old are you?” He asks.

You gulp and try to gather yourself to answer him.

“18.” Is all you can manage to say.

You can’t read his gaze but you can tell he is deep in thought. You wonder what importance your age even has in this situation but you still analyze him for any sign of what his intentions are.

“...They’re coming with me.” the dark-haired man eventually says, tilting his head towards the captain. The Captain stares at him with disbelief, looking at him as if he lost his mind before exclaiming, “I- Sir! They’re an assassin!”

“They’re a child.” Shay shoots back. 

If this were any other situation where Shay wasn’t a double-crosser of the brotherhood, you would’ve been offended at him labeling you a mere child, but now you’re simply perplexed. 

“The Brotherhood revealed to me their true colors when I was just a little older than them.” He states plainly, “All they need is a little guidance.”

Still on one knee, his hand reaches out towards you, a silent invitation for you to take it. You stare at it hesitantly, not fully sure that your life was just spared, but also not having much of a choice. When he rises from the ground, your legs shakingly follow and you let out a soft gasp when you accidentally lean onto his arm a bit too much but he stands strong and gently assures you everything will be okay.

The storm in his eyes clears, his gaze softening as he looks at you more closely. The way you have both of your hands grasping his arm and your head resting on his arm as you walk with him, uncertain and heedful of every step you took. He knows he has his work cut out for him to try and rid your mind of the Brotherhood’s brainwashing but something else grows within him as he gently coaxes and leads you back to his ship. You lacked a figure in your life who would protect and guide you in the right direction, someone who you could rely on to keep you safe and look up to, and the thought of HIM being that figure in your life made Shay oddly happy.

[carissimipaixao]

Hello,

Can I ask for 'mistletoe' or 'surprise' with Shay Cormac for your Christmas Inbox?

─ SURPRISE

published on: february 19, 2023 requested by: anon pairing: shay cormac & reader word count: 1.1k+ note: submitted during the christmas inbox! additional note: i decided to follow along with @sunsetagain's "timeline", in her amazing comic "a ship without a rudder", which i had the pleasure to translate for years ago, where shay arrives in lisbon the day prior to the earthquake. i definitely suggest you check out her content, be it for assassin's creed or even detroit: become human, because, oh my goodness isn't she the most talented person i know 😭🥰

The last few years have been nothing but work, work, work and work. You hardly have time for distractions, nor do you allow yourself the luxury of having a break. You are not the highest-ranking Assassin in the Brotherhood, but your Mentor has always entrusted you to solve the most challenging mysteries. Your family has long been part of the Brotherhood and, along with your skills, you assume you earn that trust.

Lisbon has always been the untangling cobweb for the Templars, and, no matter how hard the Brotherhood pushes forward and undoes their business, someone comes from the shadows and destroys everything you have done. Yet, when His Magnanimous Majesty passed, your Mentor and other Master Assassins from the various corners of the city, as well as the countryside, believed that having his son on the throne might provide an opportunity to fight back.

But, just as before, something twisted all of your plans. In a matter of days, a new threat loomed on the horizon.

You are sitting on top of the rooftops, looking down at the city — as both commoners and nobles walk on the streets — when you hear the tiles move behind you. You turn swiftly, hand in your precious dagger. It is no one other than one of your friends, and you relax immediately, heaving a long sigh. ‘Haven’t I told you not to creep up behind me like that?’ 

‘Guilty as charged,’ the Assassin snickers, raising his hands. ‘But the Mentor has called for you. He said there is someone here who you might want to see.’ He gestures for you to follow him, and you do, almost reluctantly. You are not sure whoever it is that you would like to meet, considering everyone you have ever cared for lives within the city. But, perhaps you have nothing else in mind except getting rid of the Minister’s iron fist and liberating Lisbon.

It does shock you, however, when you enter the den and faintly recognize the face of the stranger in the middle of the hall, who has turned to stare at you. There is a glimpse of caution and, dare you say, betrayal in those eyes, but you cannot tell why. Your friend looks between the two of you curiously and disappears back onto the rooftops. The Mentor puts a hand on the stranger’s shoulder, smiling.

‘The Colonial Brotherhood has sent one of their Assassins to accomplish a mission here,’ he tells you, speaking in English for the sake of the stranger. ‘But, I’m still surprised to know that you are one of us now!’ He glances at the man, looking at him up and down.

‘Mentor,’ you begin, ‘who is he?’

His eyes glint in mischief. ‘I believe you knew this young man a long time ago. Anyway, this is Shay.’

You freeze, remembering younger days when you used to chase around a sailor’s son in the docks and downtown. You didn’t speak his language at the time and he couldn’t speak yours, either. Instead, if there is something that unites all children and remains a global idiom, it is mischief. You were very lonely back then, with your parents working nonstop for the Brotherhood. Besides, it’s not like you were part of a higher society and had a maid looking after you at home.

‘Shay Cormac,’ the man finishes for your Mentor, his face now morphing into a wide smile. ‘Nice to meet you, lass.’

‘I don’t—... you’re an Assassin,’ you shake your head. Trying to ignore the unsubtle way your Mentor is walking away, you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. ‘I don’t remember you being one.’ You raise a hand, almost asking for permission for a second chance, to reform your words. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this right now. You want to see the city first, for your mission, right?’

Shay chuckles. ‘I see not much has changed.’ It sounds like it was just a note for himself. ‘No need, lass, I know where I need to go. It’s not too far from here, anyway.’ He walks up to you and, in that short distance, you take the chance to look over his face. Indeed, not much has changed; you can still recognize that devious gaze and that mischievous grin. He easily towers over you, which is amusing, considering it used to be the other way around when you two were mere children. ‘You sound like my friends back home, too. All serious.’

‘Things are difficult here,’ you murmur.

‘So I hear.’ He looks at you up and down, and you try not to do so much as a twitch. You have never liked being the center of attention. ‘I’ve been tasked by my own Mentor to get an artifact from the Carmo Convent, but I will follow through with the mission tomorrow. I’ve just arrived from a very long trip.’

You nod. The workaholic — and extremely stressed out — side of you wants to complain; a good Assassin continues through with their work, no matter what, but you don’t know for just how long he was at sea. Besides, something tells you that he is somewhat new in the Assassin Brotherhood. ‘I understand,’ you say. ‘Let me show you to the chambers. You can rest here for the night, unless you have anywhere else to stay.’

‘Much obliged,’ the Irishman grins. ‘Perhaps you will accompany me, and tell me what you have been up to since the last time we met.’

As you begin to lead the way to the chambers within the den, you snort. You are very quick to dodge intimacy or anything that may stray you from your path. You have placed your work in front of everything else, really. It has been an inside joke amongst your friends that, indeed, you would become like those grumpy old ladies that want nothing from gentlemen callers or from anyone that might cross their sight, preferring solitude, peace and quiet. You can now tell that being flirtatious is also a new trait to Shay, but it still aligns with the playful nature that you know to be uniquely his.

‘Perhaps tomorrow, after your mission?’ You suggest, however. Even though you want nothing from Shay — at least, you know you don’t seek what he had implied —, you cannot help the curiosity. It has been years, and you would not mind reconnecting with someone you used to consider your friend. Besides, if he is a fellow Assassin, you might be able to gain insight into the American colonies from him. You shake off the slight shame that has creeped into your bones.

As you hold the door open for him, you turn. Shay appears to be thinking about your offer. After a beat of silence, he sighs. ‘Well, if you say so. Even if I do reckon you should have a break, I understand if you have things to get back to.’ He gives you a wink as he passes, holding the door instead — and you ignore how your hands briefly brushed against one another, the spark that rushes up your arm. ‘Let us meet tomorrow, then, after my mission.’

‘Sounds like a promise,’ you smile.

[ridingtorohan]

𓇻 ft. shay cormac x assassin recruit gn reader 𓇻 warnings! minor spoilers for AC Rogue. alcohol consumption + minor injury. 𓇻 au. reader is Hope and Liam's newest addition to the Brotherhood. Unfortunately, you've just learned about Shay's involvement... long after you've already met him. 𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks! ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎read on ao3! - masterlist - join the taglist!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───

"Looks like you've got a right shiner this time."

It's a voice you recognize, even through the thick of the fog. With bottle of brandy in hand, opening to your bottom lip, you've managed to cool the swell of your ego better than you have your bruise. Tongue darts out, pushing at your upper lip.

His glove rests to your cheekbone, index finger trailing softly over tender skin. Never tender enough because you flinch instinctively, expression pulling tighter. Guarded was never a flattering expression on Shay and it certainly wasn't now. Nose wrinkling, you incline your head away, the cold now freshly stinging.

Even though it's been a few hours, the tenderness hasn't gone down, still bitter and sitting coloured beneath the flush of your skin. At least you've managed the swelling some. The ghost of Shay's fingers on your skin lingers. You turn away, nursing the bottle with another sip. With a low, wanting creak of wood, the saloon's deck groans beneath Shay's weight as he shifts, back turned towards the banister, eyes always on you. Elbows resting over the rails, fresh snow lines the roots of his dark hair, skin still unbothered by the cold. So he's the one you heard step out after you.

"Did Hope give it to ye?" He asked, voice low and careful, eyes still impossibly dark, even when the warm tavern light dances over his features. Your mouth twists, sour line worrying into the skin.

"Liam."

"Ah." Then, "Well, he's always been a right git anyhow."

Looking at him like this, an air of familiarity drifting between you two, it almost tempers the sorrow and grief that still echoes in your bones. The insisting song of rage and injustice. Your fingers curl tighter around the bottle- and you see it too. How Shay's eyes don't even dart away but a barely perceptible twitch. Always watching each movement. A biting scoff rises in your throat before you can stop it.

For everything that Hope and Liam had trained you for, for all the burdens you bore, memories and lessons drilled into your head- this was not how you thought it would go.

Because every scary story told to you, every drill and hasty explanation- it was all because of him. Every bruise and aching joint- every nasty remark and lessons forced well past their dues. Even Achilles, as senile as he seemed, remarked upon the force the Brotherhood trained you.

All to avenge ghosts of Assassins you didn't know, never had a chance to know. All for a Brotherhood that had been tarnished before you joined.

You were meant to replace Shay, you realize that now. A bitter truth that had come to a head earlier that night, when Liam saw how you held your blades. Accosted you for it, demanding where you learned it from. 'From Shay', you had wanted to say, because it had been the truth. Then the rest of it followed, with Hope pleading with you to leave for the night while everyone cooled down. While they cooled down.

Looking back, you should have known better than to accept some strange man's friendly banters in taverns. Known better than to walk his boat, learning its knots better than you learned your knives.

It makes sense. Shay befriended you to sniff out the Assassin's plans. It made sense. Just as it made sense that Liam tried building you into a better tool, trying to outpace the losses that the Brotherhood had suffered.

'It's not fair.'

You think how his hands felt on your sides, careful in his guidance. Teaching you with a far greater patience than Liam had, with far kinder methods than Hope's. You had learned better under Shay- and somehow, that made it all worse, stinging more than the betrayal did.

"I hate you," you tell him. Shay tilts his head, little more than an acknowledgement. Eyes studying you, judging your reaction. Fog puffs in front of his face with his slow exhale. The wind blows it back, dusting across dark eyes before disappearing into the night.

"I know."

Still, even though you know, even though he knows, neither of you move. It's just the slow tilt of the bottle against your lips, burning motion of liquor down your throat. Cold seeping through your clothes, always too thin, never durable enough for the winter. Something that Shay had tried to correct you on but Kesegowaase didn't care for. Always too busy for your innate questions.

You want to hate Shay for everything. Pin it all on him. It'd be the easiest way. Give in to what your mentors had been trying to drill into your head: enemy, enemy, enemy.

Glass presses to your lips again. Shay's fingers ghost over yours, leather pressing light to exposed fingers. A grip that remains solid - but not insistent... and with the patience of a man that wouldn't exist in the Shay that the Brotherhood knew.

But he lets you take another drink anyway. You weren't a lightweight. Shay had made sure of that.

"Are you going to kill me?" You decide on saying when the fire has tempered in your throat. All that's left is the chill in your eyes, the nip of frost and frozen winds on your cheeks.

His fingers remain on the bottle and with a light tug, you concede, letting him bring it to his own lips. Cleanshaven, unlike the scruffy remnants that you had been sworn to. In all the ways that matter, he's unlike the man you've been told about. But you can see where the threat lies, the careful way he tilts his shoulders, languid but prepared. That part of the stories are true.

"Only if our blades cross," Shay responds, swallow audible, eyes dark as he peers at you over the neck of the bottle. He passes it to you, fingers brushing over yours.

Fingers connect. You try not to memorize how they feel.

"They'll order me to kill you," you decide to say.

Shay blinks, then blinks again when the snow lingers on his lashes. "Aye. And I won't let you." You scoff bitterly against the bottle. You both have roles to play. You just wish yours wasn't this.

You turn your eyes away, skimming over the balcony, out into the rolling hills of snow. More powder falls from the sky, dusting across your shoulders, frozen kisses upon cold-flushed skin. It'd be easy, you know, for Shay to just reach over and slide his blade into your neck. Nobody would hear you. Even with gold light dusting over the white expanse ahead, there's still dark shadows. You're both still isolated.

The music in the other room sounds so far away.

He doesn't move and you get to take another drink.

You think, then, that this isn't all there is. That there's more to the man that you were told about. That words uttered with hate or hellfire don't amount to the hours you've spent by his side, listening to some bawdy tale that Gist told him.

Then, in the same breath, you think: he doesn't have to kill me and I don't have to kill him.

Then, in another: what if there was another way?

Because for all the assassins are, good teachers aren't one of them. That you still swore to protect the innocent and your blade hasn't known flesh. In all these moments, caught between the Homestead and someone you had thought you had known, there exists things that you don't know. Impossibly, that there might be kindness beyond this rage and suffering that everyone has been dealt.

Again, in your mind's eye, you feel the shadow of Shay's gloves on your arms and waist, correcting your stance. Think of Achilles' words, heated and grave. Of Hope's flattering gait as she leads you through her warehouse.

"Shay, what-" You turn, throat tight, shadows and aches lingering in your mind still. There's nothing there, the impressions of his boots filling with the drifting of snow. Only gloves left on the railing, cuffs rimmed with fur. Still warm, even as you press chapped and shaking fingers inside, leather cushioning your palms. Because this is who Shay is, always watching out for you.

The next sip of the bottle goes down tasteless, no longer satisfying. The despair doesn't run as hot in your blood anymore, though the sense of betrayal lingers. Except now you wonder, just who exactly you feel betrayed by.