#shay cormac imagine

[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!

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"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.

[imnotadogiswear]

One thing I like about post-Desmond Assassin's Creed is that the games are a canon thing. Do both sides have to monitor the fandom in case secrets are compromised? Does Abstergo have to fire employees for writing Assassin smut on the job?

[especiallyhaytham]

So there's this blink-and-you'll-miss-it line in Rogue right before the Chevalier mission, where Gist is like "If you didn't kill Hope, Master Kenway probably would've gutted your ass, like for real" and Shay is just like "Yeah I'm aware."

And I'm here like "Oh okay so at least he knows that Haytham is insane, cool cool." Like yeah there was that whole thing where Haytham sprayed blood in his face, but I've always been a little worried that Shay was just comme-ci comme-ça about it.

[howtotrainabraincell]

Greetings my fellow AC mutual!!!

Lately I have been reading all your canon posts here and may I say that I love them all. You have created amazing canons here. I'm feeling extra romantic so here's an idea: how would the Assassins, including Templars, feel on their wedding day? The before, during and after the wedding. You can choose all of them or a few of them.

Please and thank you 😊🙏 and have a wonderful day today.

Sure thing! This is a cute one!!

A/N: I may not have put it in each one, but they will respect their wife's wishes to not be intimate on their wedding night (whether it be fear or being exhausted from the festivities). But...I mean come on. Who wouldn't want to have a wedding night with any of them?

ALSO, there may be multiple parts to this bc there's A LOT I got going on in this mind of mine when it comes to this lot getting married...

Jacob Frye

Before:

You know this man will have his Rooks there lolll they'll be throwing the biggest loudest bash London has ever seen in honor of their Boss getting hitched. He just might make Greenie his best man (he teases the man to the ninth realm and back but they're good buddies for real).

Jacob takes this seriously. He's still his wonderfully goofy and chaotic self but he takes certain aspects of marriage more seriously. He wants her to know that he'll be good to her, he'll protect her with his life, and he'll love her even after he dies. He also takes setting up a home for her seriously. The man isn't for anything lavish and she isn't either (her cozy non-materialistic ways are something that majorly attracted Jacob to her - high key don't think he'd like somebody who was materialistic, as happiness is in life not things) but he wants to set up a nice little place for them to call 'home' together. A place where they can be together as husband and wife and hopefully have a handful of little rooks running around one day. A place that's theirs and theirs alone.

During:

He thinks she looks beautiful in her wedding dress (he bet she looks even better out of it tho...PFFT). He'll never admit to it, but his eyes began to sting at the sight of her - and of course he wasn't rubbing the tears from his eyes throughout the ceremony! He just had something in his eyes...

He's very genuine and sweet when he recites his wedding vows 'In sickness and in health, etc.' to you, both of you having decided to save the personal vows for each other privately. (Heads up Jacob cried when he read her letter of vows and promises to him, he couldn't believe how sweet it was. Man was legit sitting there thinking 'How'd I get such a wonderful wife?'). He genuinely cannot believe that he found a wife who loves and accepts him for him. Rest assured that any insecurities Jacob has before they marry will soon be gone because his wife loves him the way he's always deserved.

Once the marital vows are said and done, they move on to the exchange of rings...and that's when the tears start.

Jacob knows that she isn't materialistic and that she doesn't need a fancy ring to know that he loves her, but he thinks she deserves it, and he has just thing in mind. Something that compliments her eyes because they're one of his top favorite (and he has a lot lol) things about her. Something that reflects the joy in her eyes when she laughs, the smile crinkles she's developed from years of managing to laugh through her struggles, and the swirls of color. Jacob would definitely enlist the help of his big sister in finding a ring for his soon to be wife and does.she.come.through. When it comes time for the ring exchange, he's pleasantly surprised to find that she put just as much thought into his ring as he did hers.

Both are engraved with confessions of their love for one another and intricately designed to match the spouse they were made for.

After:

He would enjoy the celebration, and it would be planned and based off of how his wife feels about such celebrations. Jacob being a bit more extroverted is likely to enjoy socializing and having a big get together - and if his wife is the same way then great! But if she's more introverted and can only take so much he's whisking her away, so she doesn't get stressed out. I actually think that he would want to be alone with his new wife and not just for *wink wink* but he wants some alone time to just have a slow moment with her. He would enjoy the celebration his Rooks put together for them and she thinks it's so sweet that they went all out, but as we know Mr. Frye has a tendency to act rashly when he becomes impatient. Next thing you know, he's scooping his wife up without a care in the world and carrying her off with a grin five miles wide, her face the exact replica of a tomato as she clings to him, and the Rooks cheering them goodbye as Jacob carries her off.

If she's afraid of the wedding night activities this man is instantly comforting her assuring her that he doesn't expect anything, he would never hurt her, and he'll wait for her. If she's tired? He is too honestly (he does have a lot of energy, but I imagine when he's alone he just OOF crashes but doesn't want anyone to see it. I mean he does have a full-time job annoying Evie ofc lol what else are baby brothers for?) so cuddling and going to sleep together is just fine with him. But if she wants him - tired or not - he'll give her everything he's got and then some.

Do I need to go into Jacob's wedding night? I mean... it's Jacob. The man lives to serve and please. And please he does...

Bayek of Siwa (I included him bc he legit started it all technically a Hidden One but potato pitatoh)

Before: This man is joyful on his wedding day. He's so excited to marry her and spend their days together. Whether this is after his divorce from Aya or we're not going with cannon and it's his first marriage - this man wants to be a husband, he is husband material. He can't wait to pledge himself to her before the gods and dedicate his life to loving her. He can't wait for her to be his wife HOWEVER - If we're going with cannon he was rejected when he proposed to Aya, so he has some understandable hesitancy when he proposes to his love. Can you blame him? He really loved the one he proposed to the first time and got shot down poor guy. It's the second time he's proposed in this life, and he does not make the mistake of thinking that just because they're in love that she'll say yes. He made that mistake before, and it felt like a knife to the gut.

BUT - If we're going with head cannon... this time he found himself a woman who was ecstatic to be proposed to by him (and I mean literally ecstatic like she tackled him in happiness making him laugh his ass off before she showered him in kisses and said yes).

If sticking to cannon he is worried and afraid deep down to remarry. He loves her very much so much in fact he believes that he very well loves her even more than he loved Aya (which like WOW ya know what I'm saying?). But when he's around her all fears and worries are eased and he comes to his senses knowing that he would forever regret not spending the rest of his life with her, now that he's met her and has her in his life.

Headcannon wise he's still a bit scared as being a Medjay is stressful and a known profession in which one is likely to gain enemies (insert middle finger to members of the order of ancients). He worries about her being targeted but he knows that she can take care of herself (she'll make one hell of a Medjay's wife that's for sure LOL). He also fears that it would be selfish to marry her and put her in danger - but upon sharing this fear with her she quickly dismantled his fear. Whether they marry or do not marry, either way - she could possibly be targeted by his enemies, to this he agreed. Then she asserted that it would be better that they face their adversaries together with their love motivating them to eliminate all threats, than to face those who oppose them separately. To this he simply smiled and hugged her tightly melting into her embrace.

During: They didn't really have weddings in Ancient Egypt more so the signing of a binding marriage document, the woman moving into the man's home to live with him as his wife, and then it could/would be followed by a celebration. However...that is Egypt as a whole...not Siwa. Those of us who have seen this beautiful spot in Egypt where beloved Bayek is from, know that it's beautiful and lively (quite frankly a great place to start a family) and you just know that Bayek is from a community that loves him. They're going to throw him and his intended a celebration to end all celebrations.

Hepzefa ISN'T dead I.DON'T.CARE - he's absolutely Bayek's best man.

Bayek in his armor and her in a linen dress covered by a layer of sheer fabric with a lily in her hair, as they get married in the evening when it cools off, the sand unable to burn their feet and the sun unable to glare in their eyes so they can actually look at each other lol. Any fear he had is gone when he sees her at the end of the aisle. They meet each other at the end of the aisle and join arms to walk together toward Hepzefa (who OFC is marrying them obvs). They make their vows before the gods to love, cherish, respect, support and be honest with each other for as long they both live.

After:

Again, if we're sticking to cannon, I think that Bayek would move in with his new wife instead of her moving in with him. A new home and a fresh start with his new wife, is just what this man could use after his arduous journey.

Headcannon however they would move into their own place in Siwa together and work together to make their home everything they dreamed it could be. I HIGHLY believe that he would find a way to make a pond for her filled with water lilies (his nickname for her btw - she's his "beautiful lily").

After a night of dancing, laughter, feasting and sheer happiness they would go home together. They would end the night by sitting on the roof of their new home together watching the Oasis of Siwa from afar, bundled up tightly together in a blanket against the chill air of the Egyptian night. He would point out the different spots of Siwa from they sat, but mostly they would admire the beauty of the moon on the oasis not too far away. They might even go for a swim in the cool waters together, laughing and splashing each other. Tell.me.he doesn't sneak attack her from underwater lloollll. They'd spin around in the water easily with Bayek holding her against him and smiling as she gushes about how much she's enjoyed the day.

I don't think Bayek would make love to her on the banks of the oasis for their first time the man has romantic plans that he plans to woo her with lol. (Later on, in their marriage though...woo!) Rest assured that their first time will be sweet and romantic, he'll make her as comfortable as possible, with pillows everywhere and candlelight guiding their hands within the walls of their home.

Also like the idea of them traveling to Alexandria together and having their honeymoon there. Them exploring the Alexandrian Lighthouse together, the library (shortly before it BURNED DOWN DAMN YOU CAESER), horseback riding through the sand dunes and around the lush greenery near the Nile, going to the markets together and giggling about whatever it is that they find funny, sailing on the Nile together and fishing/gathering reeds for various projects, THEY WOULD CLIMB THE PYRAMIDS TOGETHER CHANGE.MY.MIND.

Evie Frye

Before: Their wedding isn't one that can be celebrated openly but they still have a celebration that is the epitome of love. The two women had both agreed to write their vows for one another and exchange them after the wedding, wanting to keep their promises to each other and words of love just between them.

They couldn't decide on names lol. Evie wanted her last name, and she wanted Evie's last name. But they quickly came up with a solution as they both have brothers. They decided to hyphenate their last names for some extra cover. Evie becomes Mrs. Frye-(L/N) and she becomes Mrs. (L/N)-Frye. That way no one would suspect them being married and if anyone ever asks, Evie married one of her (wife's) brothers and is her "sister-in-law" the same way Jacob is a stand in husband for Evie's wife and she is Evie's "sister-in-law". History will say that they were sisters in law hahaha.

But for real though tell me why they end up calling each other "Mrs" SO MUCH in private (Evie almost forgets that she's a Dame bc she gets called Missus *insert her last name* so much by her wife haha).

During:

Not able to shout their love from the rooftops unfortunately, the couple settles to have a very small and private ceremony. Jacob - who would NEVER breathe a word, Henry who's just happy to see them happy, Ned would probably be there and while Abberline would be SHOOK (I don't care if that word died out like 8 years ago lol it's funny) he would be pleased to know that they've found happiness together.

Tell me why I'm so damn sure that Jacob marries them (he would do that for his sister jokes, loving eye rolls from his big sister and all). They would either get married on the train not too far from the Red Lion where they would go afterward to celebrate, or in Henry's shop (his wedding gift would be lots of various flowers ranging from "everlasting love" to "trust and loyalty").

OR I do have a head cannon that they don't have any witnesses at all. They go up to rooftop facing the Thames and wait for sunrise together with their rings and a basket of goodies they both enjoy. When the sun begins to rise, they make their vows to each other tearfully and very sincerely, pledging the rest of their lives to each other and promising to always be together and love one another. They do this so that they can start the new day together as wives and say what they truly want to one another without an audience. It'll even become tradition years later that they both stay up until sunrise to celebrate their anniversary as the years go on, just the two of them

After:

They do their own wedding presents, and the new Mrs. Frye can't help but giggle at Evie's reaction when she gives her the special edition of her favorite book. I think we can all imagine how ecstatic the loveable bookworm that is Dame Evie Frye would be.

When Evie reads the vows, her new wife has written for her she boo hoos too lol. She can't believe that she's lucky enough to have married such a sweet and wonderful woman. Especially when she thought she would never marry and dedicate her entire life to the Creed.

Something fun the two women embark on together is setting up their home together. Not having been able to have had an open wedding they didn't have wedding showers or receive the traditional wedding gifts; they pick out each piece of their new home together! With how in sync, they are together there is hardly anything they disagree on (unless its Evie's wife trying to get her to stop working herself almost to death...by smooching her to the point where Evie looks like a laughing tomato haha) and their home comes together wonderfully. Everything in their home cozy and a reminder of their love.

It takes Evie a little bit before she finally lets go of the fear that getting married to her love, was nothing more than a wonderful dream. But each morning when she wakes up and either sees her wife next to her sleeping safe and sound, or she wakes to beautiful flowers followed by Mrs. Frye trailing in quietly with a cup of morning tea for her still sleepy wife. Her wife can rest assured that Dame Evie Frye will love her for the rest of their lives.

Altair Ibn La' Ahad

Before: He never thought he would marry or fall in love the way he's fallen in love with her. He's a naturally a confident man, so there's no doubt in his mind that he wants to be her husband and spend the rest of his life with her. There's no doubt...but there is worry. He worries about being a good husband to her in terms of giving her a safe stable home due to being an assassin and he knows that he can be...emotionally stunted, but he plans to correct that and never leave her wondering if he loves her. Because he does with his whole being. After all, if she can help pull him out of his younger arrogant ways, by gently and patiently telling him why he's wrong without criticizing him, then she can do anything.

During: His worries are vanquished when he sees her. He immediately knows that come what may, they'll be alright so long as they're together. He can't stop looking at her during the wedding, making her blush as he smiles at her (surprising the hell out of Malik lol bc the 'tHe nOvICe cAn SmILe?') As they take their vows a few cheeky looks are given here and there the pair obviously checking each other out, (insert Malik gagging like a goof). Altair can't get over how she looks like an otherworldly being with her beauty unmatched by anyone or anything. She can't get over how handsome and gallant he looks in his robes, with his hood down (GASP), his sword at his side as his thumbs rub the backs of her hands. (But with the hood thing he's never had anything to hide, he just wants to show his face and let everyone know that he's marrying her and that he's proud to be her husband. He's a very proud husband haha). When they seal their new union with a kiss, he bends down to pick her up and hold her tightly making her laugh. They both can't stop smiling, completely and utterly happy and excited to start the rest of their life together.

After: He would bring her jasmine and a few Damasks roses - they're nowhere near as beautiful as he thinks she is but the sweetness of each flower reminds him of her - in a neatly gathered bushel and loves the smile it brings to her face. He doesn't care about having a wedding night, he just wants to be with his wife and love on her in whatever manner she wishes. Sitting there and watching the stars over Masyaf or Jerusalem (depending on when/where they get married) If she wants to lay there with him and relax, he's happy to hold her and do just that. But if she wants him to take her...her mind will be blown at just how loving her new husband can be...

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway

Before: He's worried about being a good husband. Very worried. He wants to be a wonderful husband to her, as wonderful as she is to him. He loves her with everything he has of course and would defend her with his life. But he was so focused on his mission to take the Templar order down, to get justice for his mother, so focused on his rage...that despite how much he loves her, he wonders if he can pull himself out of the dark mindset that he was in for so long to treat her the way she deserves. He will try but he still worries. He doesn't want to be angry (never at her keep in mind - about life in general) his entire life. Her kisses and presence helps though, more than she'll ever understand. He wants to be there for her as much as she's been there for him, through thick and thin, no matter what.

During: Feel like there would be two weddings for the couple. A colonial one (planned by the Homestead for the happy couple) and a traditional Mohawk wedding (planned by the Clan mother who is so excited to see him getting married), a wedding to honor both his and her culture. He stands like a statue clasping his hands in front of him patiently, eager, and nervously until he sees her. Cheesy as it is... the sight of her brings him peace. He can't even wait for her to make it to the altar, making his way to her down the aisle in a few long strides to meet her with a smile. They walk down the aisle together arm in arm and hands intertwined, unable to contain their excitement.

After: He can't stop staring at his wedding ring and smiling at it. Typically, the Mohawk people did not exchange wedding rings until modern times, but he loves his and what it represents. The eternal love and union he and his wife will share. His face hurts from smiling so much, but he doesn't mind it a bit. Now as for the wedding night... I think he would be very shy at first. Terrified of hurting her because he's very aware of the fact that he's massive and intimidates a lot of people. He would never do that to her. Being with her is honestly really enough for him, the emotional intimacy the two share is what made him so sure about making her his wife. The newlyweds would work their way up into sex slowly, getting a little closer each time and accompanied by lots of reassurance and soft laughter. And when they finally got it, the assassin and his wife had never felt more complete in their lives. He makes love in plenty of other ways though - mostly through his thoughtfulness and observation which leads to anticipation. He always knows what she needs before she even asks and he's always happy to help.

Their mornings start off with him usually waking first and realizing that marrying her wasn't a dream. He'll watch her sleeping peacefully in his arms, and then inspect their fingers where their wedding bands lie and realize that it's real. They got married. He's married to this wonderful woman. She's, his wife. Before he can begin to spiral in excitement he leans down and scoops her closer to him, burying his face in her neck which makes her laugh softly.

Venturing outside together to enjoy nature and do various outdoor activities, playful banter and pairing up to hunt together and scavenge. He'll look over and see her helping him with a fresh kill or scavenging other items and become overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her out of nowhere. Needless to say, lots of love and laughter fills the lives of Ratonhnhake:ton and his wife.

Henry Green/Jayadeep Mir

Before: He's happy and so ready to be her husband. He's admitted to himself that he's liked her from their first meeting, but he's loved her almost as long (which is not long at all because he fell for her quick). I don't know why but I can imagine that Jacob might try to do the whole "you know how the wedding night works right?" talk with him much to Henry's horror haha. He gently assures the younger Frye that he does in fact know what to do on his wedding night with his wife, if she'll have him. Don't worry though! The man is from India the birthplace of Kama Sutra...he knows what to do. Trust him.

During: Whether she wears the usual white dress or chooses to honor his culture by wearing traditional Indian bridal clothes, this man will be emotional. Guaranteed his eyes will begin to water when he sees how beautiful the woman he loves is, walking down the aisle to him. When they take each other's hands, he can't help the goosebumps of excitement he gets thinking about how lucky he feels to be marrying such a woman. He'll never understand how he got her to agree to marry him (despite being charming have a head cannon that his charm goes out the window when it comes to proposing to her lol he was so nervous that she would say no!) but he'll never forsake her or take her for granted. Perish the thought!

After: Get ready for a very fun honeymoon! Traveling together and studying each place you go, learning fun facts and the history behind the cultures. I think he would be so excited to show her around where he grew up and tell her stories (the happier ones) from his childhood. I also think that Mr. Green would be eager to prove that his intelligence is more than just the book variety...

Shay Patrick Cormac

Before: He's excited. But also, nervous. So nervous. He's aware that the type of life he leads isn't the safest or the most routine/regular thing a man can do. But you can bet that he'll be damned if he doesn't give his all to be a good husband to her. A worry that runs through his mind is dying at sea on the Morrigan and leaving her widowed and alone. He noticeably goes on less voyages after they marry only going when it's necessary. Depending on when they get married, he may still be traveling around on Templar/Shay way business - but either way whether he's close to retirement or still working, he wants to settle down with her. He plans to create a nice home for her, take care of her, love her, and have a handful of beautiful babies that he'll love almost as much as he loves her.

During: The moment he lifts her veil from her face he can't take his eyes off of her. Literally. The only time he does is to briefly and gently slide the ring onto her finger, otherwise he's smiling and staring at her like a lovesick puppy lol. He's so busy admiring his bride that Haytham with a smirk on his face gently clears his throat reminding Shay that the time to seal his new union has come. When the Irish captain realizes what the Grandmaster is saying the man blushes in slight embarrassment, and you bet he turns right around and kisses his new wife. The pair laughs as those invited applaud in celebration, but they're in their own world together.

After: After the wedding he'll take her to his home (read: their home that he hopes she loves) in New York so they can be alone together, in more ways than one. Their home will definitely know what love is when they're there together. He's a go go go kind of man as we've all seen but he's slow and gentle with her and if she finds herself too tired to celebrate in a more intimate way, she better get ready for the best cuddle session of her life. However, if she does find herself in need of her husband...let's just say that he's Captain of more than the Morrigan... Tell me why the idea of him untying his wife's corset is very erotic... Once they start married life together this man is taking her on the Morrigan (if she wants to go that is if not, he has plenty of other fun things in mind...) and sailing her to wherever she wants to go. I imagine she would choose Ireland to learn about where her husband's family came from, and Shay would love showing her around his place of origin.

Haytham Kenway

Before: He's composed in public ever the austere Grandmaster.... but a mess in private. He can't stop fidgeting with his cravat, pulling at his sleeves, straightening his coat. He looks absolutely handsome, but he knows that he won't hold a candle to his angel of a wife - who he DEFINITELY peeked at lol. You telling me this man didn't try to go to talk to her before the wedding because he missed her, and he doesn't stop short by the crack in the door, dumbfounded by how beautiful she looks? His face will be redder than his vest. With how in love with her he is, he feels less the confident Templar, and more so a little boy in very deep love. He's so happy that he gets to marry his love and spend his life with her, just the sight of her alone helps him to calm down and realize: he's marrying the love of his life.

During:

When he sees her coming down the aisle to him, he forgets how to breathe for a moment. The majority of the ceremony is spent exchanging loving gazes, gentle hand squeezes and him trying not to pass out. She notices how flustered he seems and reaches up to gently cup his face for no one's benefit but his. Needless to say, it helps to calm him significantly.

He can't believe how beautiful she is and how he got her to agree to marry him. Haytham doesn't say it in his vows, but he'll give her the world and more and always take care of her. With this man I have a feeling that actions speak louder than words (I mean did you see how he got rizzed by Ziio LOL everyone thought HE would woo HER, but she BAMBOOZLED him). He may not speak what he's feeling, and she may have to play fill in the blanks sometimes when he becomes overwhelmed by his emotions (cue him being very grateful for her patience), but with her complete agreement he's more than happy to show her in a deep kiss or something a bit more husbandly...

When they're pronounced husband and wife he steps forward while the officiant is still speaking and kisses her with abandon. The Grandmaster is thrown out the window for the moment and the lovestruck man comes out much to his new wife's delight. He embraces her tightly never wanting to let her go and his arms sweep her up in quick spin that makes her squeak in laughter as his own grin spreads across his face.

He would spoil.her.rotten come the wedding and wedding presents.

After:

The celebration would be a grand one and last long into the night. Shay swears upon the Morrigan that he'll knock Hickey's lights out if he gets pissed and starts to cause a ruckus LOOOLL. Haytham is a good dancer, but he doesn't like to make a spectacle of himself, for his new bride however he'll get out there and dance with her feeling absolute contentment in knowing that of all the men in the room that could have her in their arms he has her instead. He enjoys watching her have fun, and every time she finds him in the room and smiles at him while she's dancing, the man swears to the gods that his heart starts to race. You can definitely bet that his face stays a decent shade of red for the majority of the ceremony and party.

The party doesn't end when she comes to him and asks if he's ready to retire for the night, taking his hand when he agrees and pulling him toward the stairs. This man's face is ON FIRE as they go up the stairs together because everyone knows what they're going up there to do and that damn Irish Captain won't stop smirking at him -

He'll help her undress not solely for the purpose of making love to her, but because he wants to help her get comfortable (her beautiful form in front of him in nothing but a chemise is definitely motivation too...). Making her comfortable is his number one priority whether they make love that night or not. Making sure the curtains are drawn so the sunlight won't bother her in the morning, the fire is lit to keep her warm (I head cannon them getting married in winter for some reason... I mean they can keep each other warm during the colder months), making sure she has water on her bedside chamber.

They lay together after the long night holding each other comfortably softly speaking about how wonderful everything was. They may discuss the Order if she's curious about it and she'll make goo goo eyes at him as he speaks so passionately about it, with him blushing as she looks at him so lovingly. They may discuss books they've been reading together (tell me Haytham wouldn't have a private little book club for just him and his wife I DARE YOU). Things between them may become charged when they hold each other's gaze for too long... and then he'll really make her Mrs. Kenway...

NOTE: I KNOW I DIDN'T DO SEVERAL CHARACTERS IN THIS POST I'M SORRY OKAY. Seriously though some characters came easier than others - but there will in fact be a part 2.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)

Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?

Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol

Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol

You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul

Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons

Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him

A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after

It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind

The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by

But as a child you eventually put the thought away

Eventually you forget

Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time

Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time

It just seemed to grow the older you got

Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you

It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it

That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting

And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries

Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment

Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age

You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian

Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge

And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur

Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress

In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts

A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night

The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve

The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop

I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures

What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group

One well know to historians such as yourself

Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment

It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts

Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye

Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter

Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times

They for some reason seem to call to you specifically

Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve

But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment

So you lie and wait

Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job

In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian

Hell you were in first year for gods sake

But somehow despite it all

Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier

A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into

Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research

You got to touch these artifacts

Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges

You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs

Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal

Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work

And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them

It’s great

You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more

Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost

Find new angles and perspectives on events

For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources

And even then sources can be biased

Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event

Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations

Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic

How could you not be?

Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry

Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian

It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking

Either way it’s an honour

One you don’t take lightly as you study it

Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code

An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit

Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension

You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field

Especially since no one knows the name of the company

It’s just under an anonymous donation every month

It’s sketchy

But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge

Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded

Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious

Not when this place was almost shut down

With a sigh you continue on your work

Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm

Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors

Well, along with being giant nerds

And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace

A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident

With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants

Then going up to get a bandaid

You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed

Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow

When you get home your more exhausted than usual

Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue

Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut

You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch

Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace

So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch

Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into

A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house

But your mind writes it off

Your too tired to question anything let alone get up

All you want is sleep

And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut

You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind

Blurred images of odd men

A weird void-like realm

The cries of an eagle overhead

A single word appearing in your head

Kenway

And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears

Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion

Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear

Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert

Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion

Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized

And there you find several men in old garb

Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate

Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence

they turn to you with sharp eyes

It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most

The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you

Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features

Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room

The bridge of your nose

A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes

The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face

Your posture as you decided what to do

It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence

Especially not when all of them are Kenway

Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death

“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”

You all but confirm his suspicions

Their suspicions

And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated

Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one

Neither were the other ones you looked at

The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves

It’s a lot to take in

Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real

Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home

…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift

You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated

Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct

Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic

You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart

And in those cases things ended up fine

But now your faced with this

A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in

Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment

For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid

I mean, how couldn’t you be?

But you get the sense that they understand

At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say

Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well

So for now they’ll stay

Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them

Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad

The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study

It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company

Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies

Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about

He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on

So you indulge him

And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering

Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart

Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era

You answer as best you can

Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte

But he appreciates it anyways

Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place

Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history

She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about

But he does

He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion

It’s nice

What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well

So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together

A constant back and forth

Hypotheses, discussion, and testing

Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted

But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together

After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape

It drove who was left away

Made the pit in his heart deeper

He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path

And he warns you of it

Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges

He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession

Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role

He helps out and offers advice and guidance

Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts

Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair

He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them

Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile

Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in

Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side

He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences

He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far

“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.

“Would I ever!”

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business

Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)

Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue

Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you

Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around

Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most

Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends

It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed

Despite that though he keeps a brave face

Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”

You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind

Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break

And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again

He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on

You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta

He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady

Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort

Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin

You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language

Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it

He’s happily rambling and teaching you words

Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor

Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice

But despite the facade you see the cracks

Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar

Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book

How Petruccio would have loved this toy

It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth

Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family

Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope

One that would never come to fruition (until now)

It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy

Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing

In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things

Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality

He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress

Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?

Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend

When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing

You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence

But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says

Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit

It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something

A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer

Meet Altair besides through a weird vision

His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls

“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.

“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”

“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”

“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”

“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”

Edward Kenway

For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be

Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something

Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home

Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation

His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily

Or more easily than he does with Haythem

It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night

A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window

You don’t talk

You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt

In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die

Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause

He changed and did good yet his past haunts him

Hands stained red

Guilt eating away

A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him

At some point when he stops his rambles you speak

Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed

It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands

Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place

It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help

In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away

You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw

You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better

You see a human being at its core

With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being

One who was just as flawed as you and I

But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that

He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance

Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to

He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair

Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales

You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman

Mind blown

Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay

Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.

“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?

“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “

“Care to tell?”

“Aye, sure thing”

Haytham Kenway

As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch

A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him

From his father its confusion and sadness

The others it’s a mix of that and anger

From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it

The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through

But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier

A neutral zone so to say

Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict

To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war

Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics

Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down

So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham

He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation

Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs

He is a conflicted man

A flawed one

But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor

He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt

Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh

Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude

That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly

That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became

What ideals and morals he still believes in even now

It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own

Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person

It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations

How you still don’t know how to feel about this all

The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head

Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad

It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking

To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction

To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order

On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea

He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices

He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it

It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave

Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern

There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests

Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look

Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages

It’s…odd

With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow

Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings

He feels melancholy

Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe

One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly

“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst

“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”

“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”

“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason

Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate

Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons

His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company

A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another

The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone

He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most

And it’s the same likewise for him

Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally

People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world

People who were let down one way or another by their father

People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination

It’s odd but you feel truly understood

Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world

One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation

The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home

Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them

And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path

He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who

It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage

In return you talk about what you know as well

Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories

An equal exchange of sorts

On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed

The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety

The times in which you need to breath

Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action

Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye

It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most

Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself

To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots

Letting the cold breeze take away your worries

It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support

Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching

Of watching and knowing when you need a break

When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know

Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own

It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect

Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing

He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation

But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out

He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them

Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes

The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular

But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes

He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples

It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him

“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.

He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”

Desmond Miles

Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you

Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive

And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive

Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine

You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague

Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat

But then things got complicated

Things change

You began talking to the others

Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table

But you still try to avoid him

It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you

The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you

Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake

It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)

The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that

How would you even start?

What do you even say to him?

You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do

Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him

Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)

Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done

The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension

The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this

But what can you even do?

How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?

Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world

He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.

But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012

It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not

He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins

Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death

And your you

A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people

It hurts but it’s true

If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light

A mere blip or spark to the greater picture

There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything

Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you

How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own

Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk

But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return

But eventually he corners you

Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair

“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)

You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.

Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off

I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here

If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes

Small glances full of opportunities in them

It’s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive

Or even private benefactors of sorts

But then they turn their attention to you

Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit

Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts

They stand not too close nearby

Watching

Waiting

And then she begins talking

And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable

Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin

They apparently are interested in your findings

In your research

But more specifically you

They’ve researched you…a lot

Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather

And your father

…but that’s not public knowledge

It wasn’t even on your birth certificate

This….this isn’t

She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing

Dangerous and sadistic of sorts

And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo

Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones

You didn’t mind

The less you know the better in that sense

Out of sight and out of mind

But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now

One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar

Abstergo

You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out

Mind drifting to that of panic

What would happen to you?

What will happen when the others find out?

But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep

When you wake up things are odd

Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes

The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift

Everything feels odd

And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void

And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts

Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something

A memory? Specifically one of your memories

Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self

A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile

You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten

Your left wordless and confused

And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains

This entire thing is a simulation of your memories

And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.

Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts

And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart

Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out

Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in

It hurts so damn much

Over and over

Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments

Left begging for it to stop

For someone to help

For the love of god someone help you make it stop

Of course this would happen to you

You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”

What utter bullshit

You can’t make good luck from bad

Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way

But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone

And your left in the void still reeling from it all

Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view

Blinding and bright as your still recovering

And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in

“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”

You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head

“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”

“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.

“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”

You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.

For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too

There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots

Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm

Composed despite the chaos of it all

So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him

There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head

But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short

Footsteps far behind eventually stopping

Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath

It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name

Shay

It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it

Either way your grateful because how can you not be?

Your away from that place

Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment

Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded

But now your somewhat okay

Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something

Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced

but Shay doesn’t seem to mind

He offers an arm that you cling to for support

A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further

And then you notice his clothes are….old

Like Haytham and Connor level old

And…shit

It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes

The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something

Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green

And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment

Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head

He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you

Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady

And the other person now attacking Shay

“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”

“He’s a Templar!”

“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”

At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat

Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip

Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail

Both waiting on your word

“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“

“You’ve been gone for 4 days”

You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.

The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father

It’s….odd but nice

Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes

He looks like hell

But none of the others are any better either

They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe

Your home

It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school

The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face

It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor

Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins

A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing

It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family

Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here

Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay

Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that

But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger

Your not safe

None of you are safe

Perhaps you never truly were

And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next

Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force

You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans

as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you

Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision

So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option

It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)

Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad

So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy

It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again

Only time can tell what will bring upon you next

But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side

The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone

But maybe you understand it a bit better now

[fanfenomenon]

can i just say how much i enjoy long distance relationship fanfics of shaytham

GOD... imagine haytham writing letters to shay while he sails the high seas, telling him how much he misses him and that he will wait for him to come home. sometimes i also like to think that haytham sprays perfume on his letters, but he doesn't do it often because it makes him feel like a teenage girl lmao shay on the other hand misses him dearly as well. he writes and writes on his desk in the morrigan, throwing away letters that he doesn't find to be perfect enough to send haytham. he cares so much about everything he writes on the parchment, because not only is he his lover, but he is also his grandmaster, and there is still this invisible barrier between them that keeps shay from writing down his true feelings. but haytham writes so casually, even though he makes it a point to keep his handwriting neat and punctuations correct, he is able to write what he truly feels. he is upfront about his love for shay, while the latter expresses his with innuendos hidden in his letters.

but when shay comes home, he suddenly finds the ability to be more direct. he initiates intimacy and physical touch while haytham hesitates, and now it's his turn to feel a sort of invisible barrier between them. even so, shay pulls him close, feeling the warmth he's yearned for so long.

[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.

[demigoddessqueens]

Thank you I'm so excited! Anyway here's the idea how would Shay and Haythem (Separate) react to Assassin Reader/S/O yeeting the Apple of Eden to an area where no one can get it. They even said "I don't trust anyone Templar or Assassin even myself with that damn thing, human kind shouldn't mess with it!" then proceeds to run off to who knows where. (Bonus if it takes place in Rogue,)

I love this as a concept because it can be so much potential angst and E2L!

Shay 🍀

He’s got A LOT of mixed feelings, considering he’s just recently joined the Templars. On one hand, he wishes you could’ve been on his side when he defected from Achilles and everyone else. But, better late than never in his opinion. No more innocents who could be lost. If possible, He’ll try and track you down afterwards to talk. He may not be an Assassin anymore, but he more than trusts you now.

Haytham

Naturally, he’s going to feel incensed about such an impulsive move towards what he’s been searching for. Sure Shay may try and calm him down, but even that will be a challenge itself. You’re everything that represents what his father stood for, what he’s opposed to, and against his better judgment he let down his boundaries for you. Days, weeks, months, he’ll come to his rational senses after a while and would want to see you again. At least to see your POV

[ghostyattheblogg]

Y'ALLLL, Something funny happened to me related to AC : Rouge. If y'all know me, I've been a big fan of Assassin's Creed (mostly to Rouge, Unity, and Three where my pookie Bears reside). And I just had the weirdest shit happened earlier at school.

It happened back when I was in eighth grade. Where me and my friend have been discussing Video Games. She told me she has An Assassin's Creed video game but doesn't know which one it is. She told me it was in a snowy area, etc, etc (I was still a noob back then. Bite me.) I kept thinking of it- For a minute I thought it was Revelations (THE TRAILER GAVE IT OUT TO ME) So I kept on thinking.

After a few months, I kinda gave up. In 9th grade (rn), during the first recess, she said. "Yo, remember the AC game I had ?" And I was like "Yeah, what about it ?" And she said " It's Rouge."

I screamed (squealing) so hard of pure excitement. like, GIRLY, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I WANNA PLAY ROUGE ! Much less I have three and Brotherhood...BUT STILL. You Mf. It's been so long since I've been this excited ever since Hatsune Miku y'all. Lucky.

[larosaescarlata]

hmmm,, thinking how AC Rogue would have hit even harder if Shay had an Assassin sibling, a twin sister more specifically,,, the potential for sibling angst,, hmm,,

[teecupangel]

Permission to be horny you say, then how about minotaur Desmond (y'know cuz horns)

Anyway best place to drop him would be as a "guardian" of some PoE

Like we could have him at Altaïr's apple and save that group from the templars (and have monsterfucker Altaïr to circle around to what you really nave in that post)

But also I have the thought of him guarding the anti-earthquake machine (that I can never remember if it had a Canon name). Because imagine being Achilles, you send one of your men to a suspected location of a PoE and he comes back with a huge half bull man and like is he the PoE!?!?

Giving me permission to indulge in my monsterfucker Altaïr agenda will always be accepted whole heartedly XD

We can even make this a whole ‘Minotaur in the Labyrinth’ kind of situation where Altaïr gets thrown into an undiscovered area and the ground collapsed under him, causing him to fall deeper beneath the mount.

Malik managed to get the ‘treasure’ but their escape is blocked. He noticed how Altaïr had fallen and Kadar getting stabbed on the stomach took his choice away from him. He grabbed Kadar and they both fell into the hole, hoping that it was a better choice than trying to charge the enemy lines.

They fell into the waters and gets dragged into some underground waterway that ends with them meeting with Altaïr, swimming upward to the nearest source of light.

Which turned out to be a dimly lit (lines of glowing gold all around the walls and ceiling) central plaza of sort with what may or may not be a fountain-sized lake.

And that’s how Desmond finds them in this fucking labyrinth that he’d been stuck in for god knows how long.

He died as Desmond Miles then, the next thing he knows, he was now a Minotaur stuck in this labyrinth.

And now he has to talk these two wet most probably suffering from hypothermia Assassins from killing him so he can try and help Kadar.

It’s really a good thing that he could write Arabic and the ground of the labyrinth was soft sand.

(This can end up as either Monsterfucker Altaïr OR Monsterfucker Altaïr and Kadar with ambiguous situation Malik)

.

As for a Shay situation. I kinda like the idea that Shay tries to take the device and Desmond beats the crap out of him, half because Desmond is larger and stronger as a minotaur and half because he had the element of surprise.

And instead of killing Shay, he manages to talk to him by writing and showing the paper to Shay while Shay is in the ground, his entire body screaming in pain.

‘If you take that, the ground will split open and kill countless.’

And Shay can’t exactly agree to not take it because he was ordered to and also because he didn’t necessarily believe the minotaur so the minotaur just sighed and ordered Shay to take him to his mentor and he’ll explain it (Desmond doesn’t know it’s Achilles)

Cue the crew of Morrigan thinking Shay Cormac has brought the devil onto their ship, an awkward journey and…

Desmond realizing that Achilles during this time period is a stubborn jerk.

So Desmond stays in the homestead because he has the key to open the place where the device is kept and now he’s arguing with Achilles using papers.

When he realized that Achilles could just stop talking to him by not reading what he wrote, he goes and grab Shay to read out loud his writing.

Shay doesn’t know when he became the minotaur’s assistant but, really, he’s just worried if he doesn’t do this, Desmond and Achilles might start trading blows.

[wyyvernn]

Imagine Shay Cormac with a cat woman type s/o. They are running circles around the Assasins and the Templars, stealing the pieces of Eden and selling them to the highest bidder or just throwing them down a cliff to get either them off their backs. The whip and sharp whit included. Shay being totally confused. I can see the Templars and the assassins thinking she works for the other side at first, then surprise! She doesn’t.

A/n: Took me awhile to see this in my inbox, I just noticed before but damn she sounds like a menace xD

- He's so enamoured by you. Well, not at first. He thought you were utterly irritating with your sneaky little ways, long whip, and your clever wit that always had his next comeback stilling in his throat in awe of your remarks. But he eventually came to realise that those things were precisely what attracted him to you.

- It's cat and mouse, except you're not just being chased by him but his Order too. And soon, it's the Brotherhood. You've attracted quite the attention being a little thief and pawning off any First Civilisation artifacts you can knick from either organisation. But it becomes too much, and it's evident in the way they start to track you down, getting closer every time. Who is this thief?

- Both Assassins and Templars have had enough and you think that you'll be able to escape again until you turn a corner and quite literally run into the arms of the one you've flirted with this whole time, the one who you've left cheeky lipstick marks on his face while evading him.

- Shay isn't as irritated as he should be. You think that he's had enough of you but it's quite the opposite. He holds his hand out in mock annoyance, expecting the weight of the latest artifact that you've borrowed.

- You've finally been caught, and there's nothing to do but reach into your pocket and place it in his palm, your sulky face drawing a chuckle from his throat. He almost offers you a potential position among the Templars but you're off before he can say a word, using your whip to swing from shop signs while a trail of Assassins follow after you. There's some sort of connection between you and Shay Cormac. He can feel it.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

WIP Game!!!

Thank you for the tag, @ladysaturnsdust and apologies for the lateness!! ♡♡♡

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Here are the main ones I'm attempting to work on! Life has been super busy this past year so I've not been writing as often, but I'm still doing as much as I can!

( This excludes my forgotten and abandoned drafts. I have more WIP's, believe me )

♡♡♡♡ ◇ ♡♡♡♡ ◇ ♡♡♡♡ ◇ ♡♡♡♡ ◇

1. The Love That Binds Us (Frye Twins x Reader) [PLATONIC/FAMILY] - Set in 1888 (Jack the Ripper era), you may be the only one who can save London from the man you once considered a brother. < STATUS: complete, unpublished >

2. Beautiful Things (Vex x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - A Grimm and Lost Girl crossover and enemies to lovers fic centered around Vex and an unlikely foe, soon turned friend. < STATUS: incomplete, unpublished >

3. The Call (Assassin's Creed) - Set in the modern day, based on AURORA's song for the franchise's 15th Anniversary, "Hunting Shadows" < STATUS: planning/brainstorming >

4. ~Untitled~ (Jacob Frye x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - Jacob reunites with his childhood friend in London after some years of being apart. < STATUS: incomplete, unpublished >

5. Just a Kiss This Christmas (AC 3, Rogue and Syndicate Boys x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - Individual Christmas themed imagines centered around our favourites: Haytham Kenway, Connor/Ratonhnhaké:ton, Shay Cormac, Liam O'Brien and Jacob Frye. < STATUS: almost complete, unpublished >

6. ~Untitled~ (Vex x Reader) [ROMANTIC] - More Vex appreciation, centers around his redemption arc and "supposedly" non-existent heart. < STATUS: incomplete, brainstorming >

♡♡♡♡ ◇ ♡♡♡♡ ◇ ♡♡♡♡ ◇ ♡♡♡♡ ◇

Send asks for more information or a short snippet! 😉💖

Six tags for six WIP's!

@fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @wyyvernn @demigoddessqueens @6lostgirl6 @deadlymistletoe 💖💖💖

[sweetcocopowder]

A New Day for a New Year | Shaytham New Years Special

Synopsis: Having been invited to party for New Years, Haytham drags Shay along. He wishes he was at home instead of here where there's no prying eyes. Watching him. Judging him. Not being able to hold onto the only person he adores at this party.

But little does Haytham know, everyone watches the fireworks. Watches their colours against the dark night. Everyone but Shay, who is only looking at him.

Word Count: 2.3K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Notes: I wish you all a happy new year! 2024 is here! Scary haha

The last time Shay Cormac was at Two Bends, he had assassinated Lawrence Washington.

Haytham would have known that already as far as Shay’s knowledge of him goes. Information around the Templars seems to travel quite quickly. He’s just glad that he doesn’t speak about it to Shay. The guilt of killing a sick and dying man still weighs him down some nights. Despite what Liam had said all that time ago, it hadn’t of help.

Twin Bends hasn’t changed a bit. Still the same old housing, same old dock and same old mansion and garden sitting up on the hill overlooking the bend. People bustle and laugh in the streets and on the dock, all here for the New Years party Haytham has dragged Shay along to. He was hesitant to come at first, but Haytham was persistent. He didn’t say it out loud, but it seemed like the Grandmaster didn’t want to attend alone.

The ship that brought them here wasn’t the Morrigan but instead a private vessel that the host of party had sent out. Mr Shaw -Shay has found out- is a supporter of the Templar cause. He isn’t apart of the Order, he only maintains a friendly relationship with Haytham so that he can stay above the rest. Stay in power and in kindness to that, Haytham receives information and money.

He’s the one hosting this New Years party and the same one that has invited Haytham along. In celebration for this upcoming year for the Order. But that celebration is only for Haytham and Mr. Shaw to know about. All Shay knows is that Mr. Shaw is an acquaintance. A very rich one.  

Haytham leads Shay into the manor’s garden, the Irishman keeping quiet and to himself. The Grandmaster doesn’t bother asking why the normally mouthy man is holding his tongue, he knows the memories these gardens must hold. He can only imagine though, the report on Lawrence’s death had told him everything he needed to know.

And something like that night, the garden is lit with soft orange lamps and flowers bloom on the bushes that line that fences. Everyone is dressed formally, even Haytham and Shay have changed from their usual attire to a couple of suits. Haytham still wears his cloak over his shoulders while Shay has just adopted for a simple black suit with red accents. His hair is done up nicely with a little red bow tie keeping it up. It’s cute but that is something Haytham would never say out loud.

A butler walks past with a tray full of voul-au-vents and with a delicate hand, Haytham picks off two. He holds one of to Shay, but the man’s attention is somewhere else entirely. The man doesn’t normally phase out like this but when he does, he gets caught in his own head very easily.

It takes Haytham twice calling his name to get the man’s attention, “Shay.”

“Hmm?” Shay hums as he looks to Haytham then down at the voul-au-vent being presented to him.

He takes the small pastry from Haytham with a small thanks. It’s gone within a single bite. His nose screws up the slightest but keeping to his good manners at the party, he swallows the voul-au-vent without a word. Haytham takes a bite of his own and silently agrees with Shay, the small pastries aren’t the best.

Haytham peers around the garden with a furrowed brow. Leviticus Shaw is nowhere to be seen. There are some men and women that Haytham recognises but other than that, everyone else are strangers.

“Do you think it’s best to socialize?” Shay asks suddenly.

He keeps his attention on Haytham instead of his surroundings. It seems to help him keep him from diving too deep into old, repressed memories.

Haytham hums to himself as he takes another look around before coming back to Shay with a short, “I think it would be. We should go for a wonder and find the host of this event.”

Shay nods, “Sounds like a plan.”

Despite them looking for Mr. Shaw, neither of them move quickly. They plod through the garden with conversation on their lips. Shay asks of Mr. Shaw, more curious than anything and Haytham is more willing to tell. At one point in their talk, Haytham snatches two glasses of champagne from a passing butler and hands one to Shay without a pause. At least the alcohol is better than the food Mr. Shaw is providing.  

-

“Mr. Kenway!”

Both men turn quick at the sudden shout. Shay looks Mr. Shaw up and down with a hostile sternness in his shoulders. The man is tall and stocky, his suit fitting him snuggly. Shay can almost smell the wealth coming from him and it makes him turn his head away slightly. But he keeps formal for Haytham’s sake.

The Grandmaster and Mr. Shaw shake hands firmly as they greet each other. Haytham looks small compared to Mr. Shaw, the other man as thick as a tree stump. Shay keeps quiet as the two catch up on their lives, then the stocky man’s bright blue eyes lock onto Shay. Like a blood hound looking at a hare.

“So, who is this handsome man you’ve yet to introduce me to, Haytham?” Leviticus asks with a devilish grin.

With a gesture of a hand, Haytham announces the Irishman formally, “This is Captain Cormac, one of my finest to the Order.”

Shay’s chest swells at the small praise from Haytham. He never would have received such words in the Creed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shaw,” Shay says with a short nod of his head.

Mr. Shaw’s eyes slightly widen. “What accent is that? Can’t quite place it.”

“My parents were Irish,” Shay explains.

“Both immigrants?”

At this, Shay is a little hesitant before answering a short, “Yes.”

Within the second, Mr. Shaw’s demeaner changes towards Shay. It’s a subtle change, but Shay picks up on it straight away. It’s the slight curl in Shaw’s lip and the tilt of the chin upwards that tells him all he needs to know.

Shay wishes to leave. But he doesn’t wish to make a scene in front of everyone. Not while Haytham is right next to him. That’s the last thing the Grandmaster of the Templar Order needs. One of his subjects spewing a bunch of shit in front of someone he respects. Last thing Shay wants is to be muzzled like a dog.

Mr. Shaw turns his attention back to Haytham, his features instantly brightening again. He clasps his hands together in front of him as he asks, “How are you enjoying the night so far?”

“It’s good to be here, Leviticus,” Haytham answers back.

“Good. We have fireworks planned when the new year turns over. Will you still be around by then?” Shaw pushes.

“Of course.”

“Wonderful!” Shaw grins. “I’ll come find you later, I have other guests to find and greet,” Shaw explains, his eyes flittering to Shay for a split second.

“That’s alright. I’ll meet with you before I take my leave,” Haytham instructs.

“Good! I’ll see you then!” And with that and a small nod, Mr. Shaw is wondering off into another part of the garden.

In the distant, in the gazebo, a band picks up a soft tune that fills the night. A complete opposite of the blazing annoyance Shay has buzzing around inside his chest right now.

“Can I speak informally, sir?” Shay asks with a low voice so no one can hear but the man beside him.

Haytham looks to him with a single raised brow. “Not here,” he murmurs.

Shay exhales through his nose and calls a butler over instead. Within three seconds, Shay downs one glass of champagne before grabbing two more and passing one over to Haytham. Shay downs the second champagne without a second thought and gives the butler the empty glass. With a wordless look, the butler offers a third glass. This, Shay eyes before accepting and shooing the butler away.

Out of curiosity, Haytham says, “You may speak informally.”

Brown eyes blink at him. “He’s a prick,” is all Shay says.

Haytham bites his tongue to hold back a smile. “I’m sorry?”

“Is he British?” Shay asks. “Couldn’t tell because he doesn’t have an accent like yours.”

“Like mine?”

“Is he?” Shay pushes.

“Yes.”

“Explains a lot.”

At this, Haytham scoffs lightly at the sudden attitude Shay has developed. Shay sips at his champagne as he looks about the party, trying not to down this one glass. But he fails, his glass tipping up, up and up until it’s all gone. He places the empty glass on a passing butler, scaring the man a bit.

Haytham should be a little hurt being a British man himself. But in all honesty, he finds this amusing. He’s well aware of the conflict between Irish and British and he has never fancied himself to be a part of that. Too much effort to hate someone over their birthplace and birthright. Effort he could put towards the Order. But Shaw, Shaw seems to have some effort to use it.

“Don’t let Leviticus get under your skin, Shay. He’s a rich man that only wishes to be known and liked by everyone,” Haytham says as he gives a small pat to Shay’s shoulder.

This, the simple touch seems to calm Shay down a tad. Enough for his gaze to return to Haytham and enough for his shoulders to slouch a bit. At this moment, Haytham wishes that he could bring Shay closer to him. To hold the back of his head as Shay’s face rests in the nook of his neck. But there are eyes about. And so instead of this, Haytham gestures with his head to continue their walk in the garden.

“Let’s walk it off, Shay,” Haytham softly says.

The Irishman straightens himself up and follows Haytham with a newfound will of bliss. As they walk, Haytham slowly sips on his own drink. The two of them keep to themselves, not too particular in conversating with anyone else but themselves. The only company Haytham wants tonight is Shay. That is enough.

Tonight, almost never happened. Shay had business in Albany that he was set to sail out for. He had celebrated Christmas loudly with Gist and his mindset had quickly come back to the Order. So, skipping New Years was something he could put up with. But with Haytham’s stern invitation -the only reason he was stern is because he didn’t want Charles Lee joining him- Shay had come along.

Being so deep in the garden, -only a few people pass here and there- the first pop of a firework has both of them looking up to the night sky quick as anything. Red shimmers across the sky, then another pop and a bright blue joins. Haytham watches with a softness for a moment. For he finds his gaze turning to Shay.

Big brown eyes are lit up with the colours of the sky. A small smile is spread across his handsome features, something that is infectious. Feeling the gaze, Shay turns to meet Haytham, his smile widening.

For the second time tonight, Haytham wishes he could embrace Shay. Wishes he could hold him in his arms like so many other couples tonight. He wishes he wasn’t someone so high and respected so that he could reach out to Shay in a loving way. But instead, all Haytham gives is the slightest of smiles, a twitch of a lip, before he turns his attention back to the fireworks.

An ache comes to his heart. A jealousy that he cannot outwardly love like everyone else in this garden tonight. That everything he and Shay share can only be shown behind closed doors and shuttered windows. He isn’t watching the fireworks, his mind thinking of other things.

A faint touch comes to his lower back under his cape that brings Haytham out of thought very quickly. Shay pulls him closer and Haytham reacts with a hand pushing on the other man’s chest. His heart beats in his own chest like the popping of the fireworks overhead, but he can feel that Shay’s is steady as anything. A hand covers his on Shay’s chest and squeezes softly. Shay’s face is so close, he can smell the champagne on his breath.

“Everyone is watching the fireworks,” Shay whispers out with a sheepish grin.

Haytham looks around and the few people that are in this part of the garden, their eyes are up to the sky. No one is looking at them. No one cares for their surroundings. Yet still, a twisted paranoia gnaws at Haytham. What if someone is watching.

All worry is swept away as a small kiss is placed to his temple. He blinks at the touch, his eyes still on everyone. But no one shouts. No one gasps in horror at the act. No one utters a word but at the awe of the colours blooming in the sky.

With a little relief inside of his cold heart, Haytham looks to Shay who hasn’t taken his eyes off of him this entire time. He squeezes Haytham’s hand again, a wordless assurance.

Under the fireworks, for the new year that comes, the two share a kiss in the blooming garden. Haytham doesn’t care that all he can taste is champagne. He doesn’t care that Shay’s lips are a little dry from talking in the cold night all evening. He kisses him softly with a hand on the back of his neck before anyone can spot them. They hold onto each other while the short moment lasts. While no one is watching. No one will know. No one will see. Only they will know of this moment that they both will keep to their hearts for the year to come. For the next day will hold something special. And the coming year will be held with all kinds of surprises.

What a happy new years indeed.

[howtotrainabraincell]

Assassin's Creed Characters height... versus mine - Part 1

A/N: I am 5’7 and three quarters to be exact but they never take the other part into account so I get rounded into the 5’7 category lollll

Jacob Frye is said to 5'6 (although he's head cannoned to be taller). Cannot believe that I’m a little taller than my dream man but I LOVE MY SHORT KING. Who says you need to be tall to be a sexy sweetheart that everyone falls in love with?!

Evie Frye is said to be 5'6. Gotta love how she's considered "short", but she'll hand your ass to you on a silver platter and call it a regular Fryeday (am I right?) I’m taller than Evie which makes hugging her around the shoulders easy peasy!!

Arno Victor Dorian is said to be 6'0. We love our tall teddy bear baguette man.

Desmond Miles is said to be 6'0 tall as he's eye to eye with Altair and Ezio two of his ancestors. This man needs a million hugs and then some 🥹😩😭

Altair Ibn La'Ahad is said to be 6'0 (and we know that the man has long legs confirmed LOL). Imagine 6’0 of Altair coming at you in a dark alley… YIKES!!

Ezio Auditore da Firenze is said to be 6'0 (It fits, no? I mean anyone who looks at him can tell that he's very well built...) Strong as an Italian Gondola

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway is said to be 6'4 (sometimes 6'2) but it's a known fact that he is the largest assassin in the franchise. Man is built like a BEAR. A BRICK BEAR.

Edward Kenway I've heard is roughly 5'9. Good height for a pirate he probably scared the crap out of the other pirates (bc they were typically malnourished due to all the time at sea and didn’t grow very tall from what I’ve read)

Haytham Kenway is said to be 6'0. What did they feed him growing up?! LOL

Shay Patrick Cormac is said to be 6'0. Not surprised the Irish have always been of good stock. Love this Irish penguin haha 😂

[rogue-centric]

Unhinge Your Jaw and Go For the Throat

Cross-posted to AO3

MATURE/EXPLICIT RATING: graphic descriptions of violence, torture, injury, blood, and gore. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

This is for @especiallyhaytham because they just so happened to post about corrupt!shay while i was cracking my fanfic knuckles, so i pulled this prompt out of the deep, dark corner and dusted it off. It may be just a little dip-my-toes into this AU, but tonight we eat like kings.

"Alternate timeline Shay, where he lets his sense of justice become infected by vengeance? Shay who buries his conscience and gladly becomes the monster everyone expects him to be? Shay giving in to anger instead of realizing his grief, and ending anyone who ever crossed him with cold callousness? Grand Master Cormac (!!) sitting on his bloody throne like a whore, the man he once was long forgotten as he's transformed into the very thing he sold his soul to destroy?"

Summary:

The Brotherhood decided to take a strike at the Templar manifests, and the Grandmaster has no choice but to send out his war dog to rectify this disaster.

Words: 1,801

        Shay's breath is shallow, sounding ragged as it echoes off the rotting wood of the cabin around him. His arms are shaking where they're braced against the table, and dull pain is beginning to bloom across his raw knuckles. Vibrant scarlet covers his hands, and for a moment he's entranced by the look of it under the faint light being filtered through the cracks of this shit-hole. His attention is returned to reality when he hears a low, pained groan behind him. 

        Standing up straight, Shay turns around to face the bound man lying on the ground. His face is lying in a pool of blood collected on the floorboards beneath his bruised and split face. His eyes are nearly swollen shut as he makes a desperate attempt to reposition his beaten body. The man stills when he hears the dull thuds of approaching footfalls.

        Shay crouches down in front of the man, reaching out to take his bloodied face in his hand. The man flinches. "This is your last chance." Shay's voice is low and hoarse, "You can either tell me where your little friend is, or I can take those papers off his corpse."

        The man doesn't say anything, nor does he move. He remains still underneath Shay's looming form. The Templar sits there for a moment, silently counting down in his mind, giving this Assassin a final chance to say something, point him somewhere, but nothing comes. Shay lowers his head, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Shame." He mutters, standing up.

He looks at the broken Assassin at his feet before drawing his pistol.

BANG.

        The Assassin goes limp on the floor, a dark outline of crimson covering the floor around his body. Shay turns away without a second thought and steps out of the run-down shack. There is a thin layer of snow beginning to blanket the ground outside, and the Templar's breath fogs gently as he lets out a long exhale. 

"Well, that certainly didn't take you long." The chided remark from Master Jack Weeks broke the silence of the landscape.

Shay turned his head to look at Jack, "It's called being efficient." 

"If you consider murdering our only lead efficient." Jack crossed his arms. 

"He wasn't going to talk, anyway. Just another dead end and loose thread that would have caught on something else." Shay said dismissively.

"That's true." Jack hummed, "It just sounded a little more...how should I say it...imaginative this time 'round."

Shay grunted in reply, crouching down to grab a handful of freshly fallen snow to rub across his hands. The fresh blood ran off his fingers to fall onto the ground below him as the snow soothed the burning feeling under his skin.

Jack eyed him cautiously, "So, considering this was our last option, what do you propose we do now? The Grandmaster will want those documents back."

Shay shook his hands out before standing, "Don't look so out of sorts, Master Weeks, we haven't run out of rats to chase just yet."

Jack's eyebrows lifted above the rims of his spectacles, "What's on your mind?" 

"Whoever has those documents can't be far off from their friend over there, and with this fresh snow, we've got all the advantage." Shay said, glancing around at the landscape, "There's a supply cache about a mile north of here. I say we start heading there and see what we can pick up on the way."

Jack considered the other Templar's words, "You're sure they'd go that way?"

"We've got him on the run now. Even us catching this one was nothing more than a misstep." Shay gestured a thumb to the abandoned shack behind them. "Didn't expect us to catch on so fast."

"I do suppose they're not expecting an ex-assassin to be hunting them down, either." Jack smirked.

Shay gave him a wolfish grin, "Exactly."

~~~~

        There is nothing quite like the first snowfall of the winter season. The landscape is always far more quiet than usual, the soft flakes of ice acting as a barrier to stray sounds. The two Templars walk soundlessly through the woods, with nothing more than the beating of their own hearts in their ears. The supply cache Shay knew about wasn't much farther. 

        The snow on the ground was beginning to thicken, and as they continued on their way, small game tracks and prints of bird talons could be seen patterned across the path. Not a hundred yards later, a faint discrepancy in the animal tracks and fallen snow can be found. Shay pauses to examine the track a bit closer and finds the light outline of a boot. They've found the trail.

        Shay begins to follow the tracks with more fervour, he loosely remembered the location of the supply cache, but these footfalls would no doubt reacquaint him with this particular route. A few dozen more yards and the boot prints were more pronounced, but just before they became blatantly visible, they veered off into the brush and foliage along the side of the pathway. 

        Gently moving aside stray branches and drooping pine needles, the pair make their way into the forest. Though the foliage masks much of the trail, there is a clear pathway from where the freshly fallen snow has been recently disturbed. Birds caw in the distance and Shay looks up briefly, straining for any other sounds. They're not far now. 

        A flock of crows erupts from the trees a few dozen yards ahead of them, and Shay's instincts drive him after it. Leaving Jack behind, Shay glides through the trees to the source of the commotion. He approaches a thin area, and across the spindly patch of trees, he spots a figure turning to aim a pistol at him.

        Shay quickly spins to the side as the bullet aimed for his chest ricochets off the bark of the tree beside him. Without a second to lose, he takes off in pursuit of the assassin. Caring not for noise, he bounds through the foliage after the man, and distantly he can hear Jack following some distance behind him. 

        Seeing a thick patch of bramble coming up in front of him, he veers off to the side and his boots connect with the truck of a fallen tree. He follows the trunk up and takes himself into the tree line. He can see the assassin clearly a few yards in front of him, and the sight of his prey fills him with adrenaline. He's almost on top of his target, but the trees are getting thinner and he won't be able to make a killing strike in time. With one last step, he pushes off the branch and sends himself down on top of the assassin, catching the man's legs in his grasp.

        The assassin cries out as the two of them hit the ground with a hard thud. The man kicks out of Shay's grasp and scrambles through the snow manically, clawing to get back on his feet. Shay launches himself forward and wrestles the man back down to the ground, dodging fists as he tries to pin the man down. Shay yells out as he feels the edge of a hidden blade rip through his jacket and dig into his ribs. The assassin's fist connects with Shay's jaw and sends the Templar back enough for the assassin to kick free once more.  

        Almost slipping on the wet snow, the assassin manages to get up on his feet. The man doesn't spare a glance back at Shay as he dashes for the tree line, and almost clears the brush until a sharp, seething pain flares in his leg and sends him back to the ground. The assassin looks down at his leg, finding a bolt wrapped in rope protruding from his thigh. Following the rope, his eyes focus through the blinding pain and see his pursuer holding the other end of it, looking disheveled and bloody. 

        Wrapping the end of the rope around his fist, Shay yanks it back harshly, ripping the bolt from the assassin's leg and spraying blood across the fresh snow. The assassin screams in agony, clutching his leg as the ground under him turns a deep scarlet. The man tries to pull himself away from Shay, but the Templar closes the distance between them and places a heavy foot on top of the assassin's bloodied leg, coaxing another throaty scream from the man. 

"Hand over the documents you stole." Shay demanded, pushing his boot down on the man's leg.

The assassin muffled another cry of pain before glaring up at the Templar, "Va au diable, marcheur des ombres!" he spat. 

"Then I suppose we'll do this the hard way." Shay growled through gritted teeth.

        Shay dropped a knee down on the assassin and connected his fist to the man's cheek. While the assassin was dazed, he ripped open the man's overcoat to search his pockets. He spotted a crumpled corner but as he went to reach for it, he caught the assassin's wrist in his grasp, stopping a hidden blade pointed at his throat.

"Ah, ah." Shay tsked. "Now that just won't do." 

        Shay pinned the man's arm to the ground, pulling his short sword from its sheath and driving the blade through the man's open hand and deep into the ground. The man let out another cry of pain, his hand clenching involuntarily and spurting blood across the ground.

"There. That should keep you still, hm?" Shay looked down at the assassin, who attempted to spit in his face.

Master Weeks appeared beside the other Templar, drawing his pistol and pointing it down at the assassin. "Make another move and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head." Jack spat.

        Shay returned to searching through the man's jacket and reaching for the paper he spotted before. Shay pulled out a bundle of parchment, turning the blood-stained paper in his hands to see the broken Templar seal on the underside. Shay looked up to Jack, holding up the bundle for him to see.

"Well, I'll be damned. You were right." Jack said, his spectacles sliding down his nose as he looked at the papers. "We might even make it back before dark. Good work, Master Cormac."

The assassin under him jolted at the name, shooting a look toward Shay and putting the puzzle pieces together. "Dieu ait pitié. You-you're supposed to be dead!"

"As you can see, I'm alive and well." Shay said nonchalantly, tucking the parchment into his own jacket safely. "And unfortunately for you, we can't let you go now. Can't have you going back to the mentor and letting him know I'm alive, can we?"

Fear filled the eyes of the assassin as he looked up at Shay. "Dieu ne t'aura pas, dia-"

BANG.