#shay patrick cormac angst

[gococogo]

A Night of Christmas | Shaytham Oneshot

Synopsis: Christmas has rolled around and while Shay is out celebrating, Haytham is brooding. And it's on this night that Shay finds a little understanding on why Haytham doesn't enjoy this time of year.

Word Count: 2.8K

Genre: Angsty/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Other: Credit to @benkeibear for the divider. I know this is weird getting tagged in a random ass assassin's creed fic. But I hold up to the credit tag haha.

Christmas had its perks. Some bad and some… not as bad. But it’s a time that Haytham never truly celebrated. And that was something Shay found out pretty early on in being a Templar under his eye.

Every year, Shay had just found it as an accuse to drink is merry way. And it seemed like Gist did the same thing. Which was something that Shay appreciated cause the only thing he didn’t want is to be drinking alone again. Liam had given it up for his duties for the Creed. Saying that there was no time to hunker down and celebrate when there was shit happening in the world. Liam’s words, not anyone else’s.

The Greenwich tavern is lively on Christmas. The entire crew of the Morrigan is resided there. The man that owns the tavern -Stocky Dave- is a man that is greedy for money. And if there’s money to be made, Christmas is just another pay check in his books. Which means, Stocky Dave is probably the only tavern open on Christmas day. While every other owner is taking this time off to spend their night with their families or friends.

It’s hard to walk from the entrance to the bar as it is. Every single man is shoulder to shoulder and bellowing out their lungs to sing along to the out of tune piano in the corner. One of the crew members play a carol behind the janky keys, keeping everyone in tune. As best as he can. Everyone sounds like nails on a broken chalk board. In their drunken haze though they sound like angels of the heavens singing upon humanity with finely aged wine in their hands.

Gist pulls darts from the dart board with a drunken, sloppy hand. He chuckles to himself as he drops one of them, his fingers numb with ale. Shay watches him a couple of feet away, waiting for his first mate to come back with the darts. He sways where he stands, a cheeky grin upon his face as some of his crew members shove and push behind him. Some slapping him on the shoulder and others pestering in his ear.

He’s winning at darts. Against Gist, it’s not much of a challenge. His first mate thought he could best him when lost in drink. But that was his first mistake. Shay has a keen eye and even drunk as a skunk, he’s still able to hit the target. Even if he be a bit off at times, ninety percent he’s spot on.

…Lets make that eighty percent to be on the safer side.

Any other time, Shay would have told his crew members off. Told Gist that he has other matters to attend to. But it’s Christmas. And for the first time, it’s as if Haytham hasn’t got anything for them to do or any leads to go after. Which has led all of them here. Drinking and forgetting about yesterday, tomorrow and today.

Gist spews the darts into Shay’s hand, chuckling to himself as some of them fall out of his captain’s hands. One thing Shay has learnt knowing Gist. Is that the man is always sipping on his flask that he keeps inside of his coat. Leaving him smelling of whiskey at every turn. But, when the man drinks, he turns into a big child. A big man child.

With the darts Shay has, he holds one between his thumb and forefinger. He pinches one eye closed to aim down the board. But that doesn’t help the target from forming two on the wall. He thought one eye would at least get rid of the doubling up. He throws the dart, aiming in between the two hoping that somehow, he’ll get something.

The dart hits the wall with a loud thunk, nowhere near the board. He must be losing his touch tonight. Gist grabs onto the back of his shoulders and shakes him violently.

“You’ve lost, Shay! Another miss and you’ll be buying the next round!” His first mate shouts in his ear.

It’s deafening and Shay shies away from Gist. But his mate pays no attention to his discomfort. His mind is only the on round of ale that is going to be coming his way in mere seconds.

Now Shay can’t miss.

He wipes a hand down his face, feeling the sweat he smears off his brow. He didn’t realize how hot it had become in the tavern until right now. He’s sweating and can feel his shirt and vest sticking to him, coat long forgotten somewhere in the tavern. Just glad he took it off earlier tonight instead of sweating in the leather. Last thing he would want to do his to treat the coat with a massive hangover.

The two dart boards suddenly come together and Shay quickly aims with another dart. If he starts seeing double again, he’s undeniably going to be seeing the last of his coin leave his hand tonight. He aims with both eyes this time, and throws.

Bullseye.

Three men that have been watching the entire game suddenly rise in a roar of cheer. Louder than the carol being sung and only for a moment does it stutter. But it picks right up real quick after. Gist stares at the board with wide eyes before quickly composing himself. He may be a drunk, but he ain’t an angry drunk.

He holds out his hand to Shay with a cheesy grin. His captain takes it, shaking strongly. If Shay has learnt at least one thing tonight, he’s still good at darts while half a barrel in.

“I’ll grab us another round, aye!” Gist says as he’s already pushing himself through the crowd, trying to find the bar within the hoard of other drunken men.

Shay can’t help the chuckle that escapes his throat. He looks around the tavern, spotting many of his crew mingled in with others local to New York. But something catches his eye. In the front window of the tavern.

Haytham.

Haytham stands sideways looking in, inspecting the crowd that’s making the night rowdy. He’s still dressed up in his blue attire with his tricorn hat upon his head. His eyes dart from man to man like a cat watching prey. As if he had been walking past and stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

Shay’s stare is finally met with Haytham’s. The Grandmaster seems to straighten up, his eyes not leaving Shay’s. What is Haytham doing here? Is he looking for Shay? Has something come up? After that thought, Haytham moves off and out of sight.

Shay moves before he’s even thinking. He pushes through the crowd and being a large man himself, he gets through quite easily. He throws the tavern doors open and the cold air hits him in the face, shocking him. He blinks as if waking up from a dream, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings.

It’s faintly snowing. The New York street is already softly covered in a thin layer of white, giving everything a misty feel. Shay quickly spots the back of Haytham’s cloak walking under a lamp light.

“Haytham!” Shay calls out, running to the Grandmaster without thinking.

Too much ale fills his mind to think properly at this time of night. He’s lost track of what hour it is and it must be late. Or early for that matter it could be some time in the morning.

Haytham stops in his tracks under a lamp and turns to Shay, his face as flat as a day with no wind. He may show no emotion, but it’s already warning enough to tread lightly. Shay may have seen this sober, but not tonight. He stops a little too close to Haytham, the strong smell of alcohol scrunching the British man’s nose up slightly.

“What has you out tonight?” Shay asks with a grin.

 “A ponder is all.”

“A ponder out for me?” Shay steps a little closer. “I’m charmed.”

Haytham takes a large step away out of the street light. Shay straightens up suddenly, finally catching the hint. He clears his throat, taking a glance back to the tavern and around. No one is out on the street. They are either inside with their own family and friends or drinking like the rest in the tavern or little ally ways that no one stupid enough is to go down.

Shay licks his lips. “Want to join us?” He offers.

“No,” is all he gets back as blunt as an iron hammer.

Shay reaches out and grabs onto Haytham’s hand. But, unlike many a times before he’s done such a simple act, Haytham rips his own from Shay’s. The captain sobers up real quick then and there. His brows furrow and he stares at Haytham, looking for an answer. All he’s met with though is a cruel glare that Shay knows all too well.

“Like I said, I’m out for a ponder. Nothing more,” Haytham strikes back. “Not here to get drunk over a Christian holiday that marks no greater cause.”

A cord is struck inside of Shay and it hurts a slight. Something that shows clear on his face with a furrowed brow and open mouth. He wishes he could snap. Could say many a things. But this is Haytham Kenway. He cannot and should not. He keeps those angered words to himself.

“I’ll leave you be, Haytham,” Shay takes a small step aways. “I’ll see you morning come.”

With that, Shay heads back to the tavern in a sour mood hanging heavy over his head. Haytham doesn’t reply back, letting him storm back down the way he came. The rest of the night will be spent drinking in sorrow and not glee. Something that Gist catches onto straight away.

Shay gets to the bottom of his free drink of the night before he decides to call it in for Christmas. It wouldn’t even be classified as Christmas anymore since it is the next day already. That wouldn’t matter for the crew until the sun comes up over the horizon.

Alone, Shay plods home with his coat draped over his arm. His hidden blade bracers weigh heavy on his arms and heave down on his shoulders. He feels like he’s dragging his boots across the pavement with each step he takes. By God will he feel this in the morning. If any one were to sneak up on his drunk ass right now, they’d be able to get a few good hits in. So, to prevent that happening, Shay continues plodding.

Shay remembers his early years when he use to live with his aunt. It wasn’t for long, but he got a good few Christmas’s with her. The first one, it hadn’t been too long after his father had passed out at sea. It was the first time that Shay had felt some sort of happiness after those events. Liam had come to visit but he wasn’t there for long. It was just him and his aunt. It was a mellow day, sat around the fire place keeping warm. Yet, it is a memory to a hold tight on. A moment that pops up every time around this time of year.

Somehow, Shay arrives at the bridge to Fort Arsenal unharmed. He huffs as he opens the gates that creak loudly in the night. It scratches at his ears and nearly all of Greenwich would have heard. He locks it behind him and makes his way to the manor.

The front door opens with ease.

Shay lets the door open by itself as he blinks once, twice and thrice. He knows he locked it. He steps in with hesitance and gives a quick sweep of the manor. The fire place is lit, crackling and burning bright as if it’s been eating at the wood for an hour or so.

Haytham sits on the lounge in front of the fire with his hands twinned in front of him. He stares at the fire in his own world, the light flickering over his hardened features. He doesn’t look to Shay or even acknowledge his arrival.

His hat has been placed on the table in front of him and his coat hangs next to Shay’s head at the entrance. He’s made himself at home and waiting like a house wife. Waiting for Shay to get back from his long trip away at sea. Or, waiting for him to get back home from his long day at work. It almost feels like that to Shay, but he can’t help but feel like a child coming home to his aunt waiting to discipline him for being out too late.

Without a word, Shay sits down on the far end of the same lounge from Haytham. He looks into the fire, wanting to see what has Haytham so interested. A coal pops and a half burnt log falls into the ashes. Like fireflies, coal spews up into the chimney.

“Have you ever had a proper Christmas?” The question slips through ale soaked lips.

A silence follows that is filled with thought. Haytham breathes in heavily and releases it with a sigh.

“I don’t think I have,” Haytham admits.

Shay looks to him softly with a better understanding of him. Maybe not much. But those few words are much more than he would have offered to anyone else in the Order or in the street.

“Not even when you were a youngling?” Shay prods.

A lost look comes to Haytham as the fire dances in his eyes. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“If we had, I was far too young to remember.”

A lie. But one that Shay won’t nudge at. He only hums in reply and looks to the fire a moment more. His eyes droop and his attention wavers as tiredness washes over him like waves. If he stays here any longer, he’ll fall asleep.

With a huff, Shay stands to his feet and walks a couple of steps before stopping. All so that he’s standing on the other side of Haytham.

“Would you like to join me for bed?” Shay asks with a short, outstretched hand.

Haytham finally looks at him, staring to the hand in front of him. The smallest of smiles itch at his lips as he shakes his head just as lightly.

“I won’t join a man that smells as if he’s fallen into a barrel of ale,” Haytham declares with a queer tone.

Shay can’t blame the man. He wouldn’t want to either. Not sober nor even a little tipsy. And he doesn’t think Haytham would get pissed drunk just to join him in bed to help aid his own hangover in the morning.

Instead, Shay leans down heavily with a hand on the arm rest and gives Haytham a soft kiss on the cheek. One that Haytham leans into ever so faintly with closed eyes.

With unspoken words, Shay calls in for the night. All while Haytham recalls his own first Christmas in front of the burning fire. His first Christmas with his father that he can proudly remember.

T’was early in the morning when Jenny had batted him over the face with a pillow. Shouting in his face that Christmas had arrived. That all he was getting was coal in his stockings this year. Haytham had shouted and protested that he had been good. Had raced down the stairs to prove his half sister wrong.

He remembers his father standing by the fire place. He can’t remember his face now. Long blurred and forgotten by events that would take a couple of years later. But he does remember the wide grin that wrinkled his eyes. A smile that made Haytham’s heart bloom something warm.

That day, his father had gifted him something so dear. A model ship. His own model ship that Haytham had kept in his room. Looked upon each night before he fell asleep. Wondered what it would be like to sail out to sea on such a thing. Have the breeze in his hair and the salt on his lips. What an innocent thought for such a young boy.

One that went up in flames like the model ship. One long forgotten until days like this. When everyone around would cheer and celebrate such a wholesome day. Haytham could only sit and think about the what ifs. What if he had sailed, something akin to the freedom that Shay has now. What if he had become the man his father would adore into his adult hood. What if he could remember his father’s face one last night. Not out of shame or pity. But one out of pride and joy.

Only if…

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬❞

(A/n) ➳  I welcome you all to my mini-series. I had planned to make it longer but came to the conclusion to do five chapters but long ones. So please forgive me if chapters take awhile. But enjoy!

Word Count ➳ 1.2k  

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader/Assassin reader, alcohol use, death of a parent, violence, mentions of death, mentions of marriage...

Dreamers Masterlist

NEW YORK, 1747 

Shay stumbled through the crowded tavern, his sense dulled by alcohol and his grief. He had lost track of time since his father’s death and the storm that claimed he and the crew’s lives. His thoughts were chaotic, swirling around his head, and unable to focus.  

The air reeked of ale. Shay now found himself hunched over a wooden table, nursing a drink. He barely registered the commotion around him, but he could feel the glares from other patrons of the tavern. 

They surrounded him, at the neighboring tables, seemingly drinking. And if Shay thought correctly, it was going to be another tavern fight... He reached for his pocketknife, ready to attack the presence behind him until a voice cut through, sharp and familiar yet distant in his drunken stupor.  

“Shay! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  

Startled, Shay looked up, squinting to focus his blurry gaze. Though the blur, he saw the silhouette of a man standing in front of him. But his face was blocked by the terrible lighting of the tavern.  

He leaned over and when he couldn’t see him, he tried to stand. But gentle hands steadied him, helping him to his feet with tenderness. It was then that he felt the soft touch of another person, their presence was soothing, unlike his mind. 

“Easy now.” The voice spoke, laced with concern. “You’re in no state to brawl, let alone stand on your feet.” 

Shay blinked, confused, trying to make sense of the situation. And then, like the fog in his mind had lifted, he saw him, Liam, his best friend. He stood in front of him with a mix of frustration and worry.  

“Liam?” Shay muttered, his voice hoarse and filled with confusion. 

“That’s right.” Liam replied sternly. “And if weren’t for (Y/n) here, you’d be lying in a gutter somewhere.” 

Shay's gaze moved, and for the first time, he saw her.  

You, the young girl who had come to his aid. He can see the nervousness in your eyes, watching him and managed to keep him up straight.  

You, (Y/n), Liam’s younger sister. You were the same age as Shay.  

Despite the chaos of his life, despite the pain and the loss, there was another pang in his chest. He was in no state to think about it further but pushed it down.  

Yet one thing became clear, though his suffering alone and in the dark, you had become his lifeline. 

And for that, Shay knew he would be forever grateful.  

DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD, MARCH 1752 

"Quickly now!” Hope called out, hands on her hips as she watched a group of assassins scramble around, looking for you specifically. “She’s in the trees! On the ground! Behind you!”  

They scattered across the training grounds, Hope’s eyes followed their every move. She watched with amusement, her laughter echoing through the air as they failed to find your lurking spot.  

You moved like a ghost but graceful, blending into your surroundings as if you were part of them. Your ability to remain unseen was something Hope hadn’t seen before. Maybe as good as Achillies. 

Shay and Liam stood at the sidelines, watching as well. Shay couldn’t hide the happiness that swelled every time he saw you emerge. He exchanged a playful look with Liam, a smirk tugging the corners of his lips.  

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Liam remarked. “She might be better than all of us in stealth.” 

Shay snorted. “I can count the number of times Chevalier wet himself whenever (Y/n) comes out.” Shay was careful when he said it, making sure Chevalier wasn’t around or else he’d be in another fight. 

“I heard.” Then Liam sighed, it was heavy and solemn. “Achilles shouldn’t have allowed her to join the Brotherhood. I promised my father I’d protect her, keep her safe, I didn’t want her to come. She should be back in the city, married by now, enjoying her life.” 

Shay's brows furrowed. “You know as well as I do that (Y/n) would never be happy with a life like that. She's a fighter, just like you.” 

Liam knew Shay was right. You were young, could barely remember him but he could see how happy he made you.  

When Liam discovered that Achilles was in contact with you, he lost it. Shay attempted to talk him down, noting that you were grown and can take care of yourself. But Liam felt betrayed. He confided in Achilles that his biggest fear was losing you and now you were at risk.  

It took him a couple of days for Liam to calm down. That same day, he found you on the training grounds with Hope and Kesegowaase, you were ginning, just happy to be here. 

Liam promised himself that he’d do whatever he could to keep from harm’s way, even if you were an assassin like him.  

“Wrong! Again!” Hope’s shouting made him focus once again, seeing you jump from a tree and into a pile of leaves. He saw the smile on your face as you fell.  

“Even if she was back at the city, you would approve of no man.” Shay scoffed, shaking his head. 

And how no man was worthy of you. 

And he had a feeling that Liam wouldn’t approve of Shay. 

They were childhood friends, best friends, nothing could tear them apart... Almost nothing. Shay always kept quiet for the years he had met you and when you joined the Brotherhood.  

He would rather die than admit to Liam that he wanted to be with his sister. They were in the middle of looking for the Manuscript, there was no time or room for starting a relationship.  

But he couldn’t stop himself from staring when you’re near, how his smile became bigger whenever he heard your voice, and how he wanted to seek you out every time he returned from a mission. 

You made him want to forget you entirely, you were a distraction to him. Blocking his mind when he tried to fucus, thinking of his future with you when he knew there was a possibility of not having one.  

Yet when he stood on that cliff, Manuscript in hand, his eyes locked with yours for a second. Everything he dreamed of flashed before his eyes.  

You and him on the deck of the Morrigan, it was just the two of you. You were smiling as his crew sang, his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and your soft lips against his.  

You were his dream, and he didn’t want to lose you.  

But it was only a matter of time before you heard what happened in Lisbon. What would you think of him then? Were you going to be disgusted, horrified, angry? He didn’t want to look you in the eye and see his answer. 

Shay engulfed you tightly, he was trembling. Not cause of the cold but because of fear. You were in his arms, demanding answers, wanting to know what the shouting was about but he didn’t what you to know.  

His tears soaked your shoulders as he felt your arms come around him.  

“It’s okay.” He heard you say. “Everything is going to be okay.” Rubbing his back. 

And as he fell over the cliff, feeling the pain of the gunshot running through his body. He remembered you shouting his name and Liam having to hold you back from trying to chase after him.   

Maybe Shay could die in peace, at least he stopped the assassins, even if it was just for a couple days or weeks before they found the Manuscript. His only regret was making you cry, he hated seeing you in pain. 

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

» » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ TWO ⊰

[twilighcreed]

Tittle: A Risk Willing To Take 

Pairing: Shay Cormac (Templar) X Assassin Reader  

Author: TwilighCreed/DawnWrites 

Word Count: 1,717

Warning: Angst, Violence, and Blood.  

Summary: When Shay goes to find you after an argument, he finds you broken and bloody. 

It was destined to come to an end, an ending that you both know that would happen. There was no way around it, not way to hide, run, it had to happen. It was meant to happen. And that’s what tore Shay inside. He know he was going to lose you; but he never wanted to lose you so soon.

It was a love that was forbidden, a love that bloomed into something beautiful, but a love that was never suppose to be their in the first place. But it was a risk you both were more than willing to take, just to spend another moment in each other’s arms; another moment to hear their voice; another moment you both spent as a memory, every smile, kiss, hug, passionate love: it was all a moment spent as one. Together.

‘Please, God, please, don’t let me be late! Not now!’ Shay begged to the man above. His heart racing, his breath erratic as he ran the cobblestone streets of the early hours of daylight. He felt his heart tighten in fear, fear that was so new, so unwanted. He know what he was doing, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

The Templar pushed passed the crowed of people, earning irritated shouts, but he didn’t care. He had to find you. No, he needed to find you.

You were his everything, his light at the end of the dark tunnel. His happiness in the midst of misery. His warmth. His anchor. His determination. You were his everything, and he needed you, oh, how much he need you. He would never want to admit it, but you were his weakness. A weakness that could shatter the man if something was to happen to you.. He cringed at the thought.

“[Y/N]!” He shouted, “[Y/N]!” His desperate attempts to find you broke out into pleas. His mind already thinking the worst.

Shay rounded the corner into a open, private garden that mapped your secret meeting place. It was where you both could be unseen from the outside world, a place that made both your fears wash away. It was true, anyone could come around and find you too, together, wrapped in your love; but it was a risk, you were willing to take. He knew you would be here.

He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying it in his mind, over and over again. The blood, the bodies, you… He so desperately wanted to believe this wasn’t real, that you weren’t their, laying lifeless against the pavement, your blood pooling around you. He wanted to believe that you were back home, waiting for him to return , but no, you were their, barely hanging on…

“[Y/N]!” Shay’s voice broke.

His heavy steps came to a halt by your side, his boots sliding against the concrete as he got down by your side. His hands were hesitant, hovering above your wounded body. His dark eyes searching you for wounds, wounds he found, indeed.

A large slash that looked about six inches long and an inch wide had printed itself on your lower torso, going to the bottom of your rib cage on your left side, to the tip of your hip bone on your right side. Another smaller one was on your right thigh, but it wasn’t as fadell as the one on your torso. You had bruises littered across your perfect skin. A thin slice on your right eyebrow. You were broken, and it was all his fault…

Your sword was just a few feet away from where you laid and your pistol was in your right hand, your hidden blade was still on your wrist, but it looked beaten down. The more he examined you, the more he felt his heart ace. If only he was their to protect you!

He quickly moved himself so his ear just rested above your heart, and he could still hear the slightest of a heart beat. You were still alive!

“Thank the heavens!” He whispered, looking down at your face. Even when the color from your face faded, and you were so close to eternal sleep, he could still see your beauty. Reaching down, he whispered to you in a soft voice, “Just hold on, just hold on a little longer, please, love.” His voice begged.

Shay’s strong arms pulled you off the cold ground, pulling you against his warm chest. He started to run like a madman, running to the closest doctor he know. But that was over three miles, would you last that long?

His arms held you close, his hand placed softly against the back of your head to keep you still while he ran. Shay was the fastest assassin, hell, he could even beat you in a race. And you could vouch for that. But right now, Shay needed more than speed on his side. He needed a miracle.

“Help me! Please, she’s hurt!” Shay bursted through the door of the doctor’s office, catching the attention of everyone in the room, that consisted of a nurse and the doctor himself.

The older man looked over at the tall broad figure at the door, holding a women in his hold. The man could see the desperate pleas in Shay’s brown eyes. He could see it, he was broken. The once strong, confident, prideful Templar was writhing and begging over something that could be seen as small to some people, but you were something he treasured. Something he yearned for.

The doctor looked over to the women beside him, and he quickly motioned for her to clear the table. “Hurry!” He told her, and they wasted no time to push everything off the table. Papers and utensils falling to the ground with loud thuds. “Bring her here,”

Shay wasted not another moment, laying you down as softly as he could on the wooden table. He could see it, and he felt utterly defeated. He could do nothing for you. When you needed him the most, he wasn’t there for you… ‘What have I done?’

Shay took a step back, and then another, and another. His back was pressed against the wall and his knees finally gave out, his body falling to the ground. He watched as the doctor cleaned up your wounds, attending to you. You were going to be okay, from the looks of it. But even when he know that, he still felt like it was his fault. If he didn’t say those things to you… Maybe you could be okay.

He didn’t know how long he sat their, head in his hands, but it felt like hour, days… When he felt the rough hand on his shoulder his head snap up to look into the wise eyes of the older man. Was it done? Were you okay? Were you going to recover?

“How is she?” Shay asked, quickly rising to his feet.

The doc looked over at where you laid on the wooden table, the nurse dressing your wounds and tending to you. The wrinkles in the man’s forehead seemed to ease up, looking back at the younger gentleman. “She lost a lot of blood. She had serious head wound and a few broken ribs.” He said, his eyes casting down. Shay felt his heart drop, but he was eager to hear it. “But she’ll make it.”

A sudden wave of relief wash over him and Shay wanted to break down and cry, but he held himself together. He had to stay strong for you.

“You may see her,” the man added, “There’s a spare room upstairs where she can be more comfortable. My assistant can show you.”

Shay nodded, looking at the man. “I can not tell you how thankful I am, thank you, sir.”

The man waved his hand, a smile on his lips. “It’s what I’m here for. Now go, she’s waiting.” With that the doctor ended the conversation and went back to cleaning up the room.

Shay was hesitant when he approached you. Did you still want him? Even after what happened? The nurse turned her head and looked over at the approaching man, a smile graced her lips. “You can carry her to the room, here, I’ll show you.” She said.

Shay reached down and cradled your small form, keeping you against his chest. Walking up the steps with cautious steps, he strolled into the spare room where the nurse waited. Placing you down on the soft bed, he looked down at you. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful…

“If there’s anything, I’ll be in the next room over.” She said before closing the door and leaving Shay alone with you.

Shay walked over the the closest table and started to unequipt his many weapons, placing them down he undid the ties to his hidden blade. Shrugging off his coat he set it down. Pulling off his shirt, he went back to your side.

His skilled hands worked on your previous clothes, stripping you away from the bloody and torn garments. His shirt wasn’t any cleaner, but he know you liked to sleep in his shirts. You said it made you feel more, secure.

Slipping the white fabric over your naked form, he pulled the covers over your body. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it next to your bedside, looking down at you. His mind racing with thoughts. He almost lost you… He sighed deeply, looking at your sleeping face. Reaching over he brushed your tangled hair back, his fingertips running across your cheek.

“I’m so sorry… I should have never said those things. I just didn’t–I didn’t mean for this to happen.. If only I didn’t listen to Haythem.. You would be okay… Now look at the mess I made… I-I don’t even know if you would still want me..” His voice cracked, and he felt like he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t care, I don’t care what the Order says, or Haythem. I love you. I love you, [Y/N]! And nothing will change that.” He spoke, his eyes looking down at where your eyes would be. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss upon your forehead, and he felt warmth spread in his heart.

“Your a risk I’m willing to take…”

[elsdaydreams]

Valentine's Day/Romantic Tropes headcanon

Altair Ibn La'ahad, Malik Al-Sayf, Ezio Auditore, Yusuf Tazim, Edward Kenway, James Kidd/Mary Read, Haytham Kenway, Shay Patrick Cormac, Connor Kenway, Arno Dorian, Elise de la Serre, Jacob Frye, Evie Frye, Shaun Hastings, Desmond Miles

Warnings - canon typical mentions of death and violence, cliché romance tropes, angst with a side of fluff, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of paranormal, some are happy endings and some are sad, implied mentions of intimacy

Word Count - 5550 words.

Description - A collective, detailed headcanon on which tropes fit the assassin's creed characters best.

Authors Note - What's this?? A surprise early valentine's day post?? Okay, so I realized directly after posting the assassin's and templar's love languages that it would've been the most perfect Valentine's post. Too little, too late I guess, so I decided to do something along the lines of romance - and the idea of what tropes the assassin's (and templars) would fit best? I tried to make it canon-based, so I picked solely on if it fits the characters in their original storyline. It made more sense in my head, to be honest with you, but I hope you enjoy this anyways. And have a happy (early) valentine's day, if you celebrate! (also if you've read all of these and there's a character you'd like to be talked about more, maybe you should shoot me an ask?)

Now listen okay, enemies to lovers seems like the obvious choice for Altair, right? I'm well aware of this, but you have to admit that the trope fits well for a reason. Especially canonically, you get your typical Altair arrogant attitude, and a redemption arc, and with fanfic, a love story? It's everything a person could need. So - with that being said, as we well know at the beginning of his story, Altair is a bit arrogant. And it seems like he always goes out of his way to be even more so when you're involved. You were supposed to go on the mission with him, Kadar, and Malik, but he'd made sure that you weren't there. Not out of concern, more so just because he could. The loss of Kadar is great, and you wished that Altair being knocked down a peg didn't cost someone else's life. It's so typical of his personality, at least to you - to act as though he'd done nothing wrong, that it makes you physically ill to look at him. Not much changes between the two of you for a while, not until Al Mualim is dead and Altair is at the base more frequently. Meanwhile, you continue to avoid him like the plague. You're not entirely unconvinced he's not the same person he was before. It's something of a slow process, and not even one either of you attempts to make, just something that inevitably happens. Maybe it's the way he genuinely speaks to you, not at you while giving a mission, or the way his eyes seem softer than they did before. Or is that he says something so dry and deadpan it makes you laugh before you can even consider if you should - and instead of a scolding look or reprimand, there's a hint of a smile on his lips. Before you can even process it, you're his first choice on a risky mission. Without a thought, you instinctively look towards him to see his reaction first. You can't recall when it happened, but it hits out of the blue, with him across the courtyard and your eyes glued to him. The person you dreaded seeing the most was suddenly the person you cared most for.

Malik is most definitely coworkers to lovers. Honestly, before he lost his arm and brother, you didn't know much about him. He was pretty high up there in terms of status in the Brotherhood, so you knew of him, just not him personally. Malik was always pretty stoic, at least in comparison with Kadar, who you did know somewhat. It was always a little unnerving, but now there was a certain feeling of sympathy attached to it. When you were placed on an assignment and had to report to his bureau you were less than enthusiastic, simply because you didn't know what to say. This was all well and good, as Malik was straight to the point and, for the most part, acted his normal self. You were stationed near there for the remainder of Altair's visits there, simply to avoid any conflict between the two with a mediator. For the most part, you commended Malik's resilience, you doubted you would have the restraint he did with the man who was partly responsible for Kadar's death. You told him so one night when you perhaps should've kept your mouth shut. Instead of a reprimand, you got a quiet nod, and not much else was said on the matter. From then on though, Malik spoke up more to you, discussed things that he thought were interesting around the city and you would check them out. You suggested once, that he come with you, and despite the Brotherhood having stationed him doing paperwork, he followed you. Luckily it was nothing major, but the trip was a fond memory. You talked, for the most part, about the city you had come to know as a home for the past few months. You knew you'd be leaving soon though, to go back to Masyaf soon. By the time you were back in the Assassin state, there was something unsaid between the two of you. Luckily, it wouldn't be long before he would find you again, unbeknownst to either of you at the time. It would be then that your feelings would be realized and acknowledged, and a real relationship would start around then.

Love at first sight? Absolutely. Ezio falls in love with people at first sight. I think especially when he was younger - his heart is something he gives freely when he feels something. For most people he's with, it's not even necessarily love that he feels, just infatuation or lust. When he first sees you, he's a younger man. He knows you're something, someone special. It's not something he can quite put a name on, it feels like it could be love someday, except your eyes never find him and you never have that special love at first sight moment. You play on his mind for weeks, but truly you were just passing through Florence, and Ezio slowly accepts that maybe it wasn't meant to be. The love at first sight moment happens after the fall of Monteriggioni after Ezio finds himself in Rome. The young boy who gave his heart to you without your knowledge, that knew you'd be important without knowing when finds himself again as he stares at you wide-eyed and in disbelief. That same feeling takes over him, though he's not sure he believes it fully yet. The loss of his Uncle, of his father and brothers, of a city he cared deeply for, changed him deeply. Ezio feels that overwhelming love, your importance to him in whatever form it may be - and knows that he can't, won't let you go. Not again, and as he moved against the crowds, he tries to catch your eye. It's there, that your eyes finally find his that he knows he's come to the when of it, that the feeling that didn't totally make sense now completely finally does. And within that few seconds, he becomes entranced, addicted to basking in your gaze after only a few moments. And you, the moment leaves you feeling like he's someone you knew maybe, or that you should've known. Ezio smiles at you, one that you easily return though you half wonder why, though there's an undeniable connection. It feels easy and familiar, like deja vu almost, and as he comes nearer to you, the feeling doesn't go away.

Yusuf most definitely has a shared past with you. I feel like it could almost be considered right person wrong time, but it's more so that at the time you were together neither of you was the person you should've been together. It wasn't anything awful really, just that even though Yusuf is older than you, he was never meeting your emotional needs, always acting immature. That's how you always remembered him, though not with malice or anger, but with a fondness. Part of you now looking back wished he kept just a little bit of that childishness and wondered what he was doing now. It was one of those weird moments, there was always plenty of opportunities to run into each other, the city wasn't that big and yet - it wasn't until a couple of years later that you saw him again. A pleasant surprise for both of you, neither can help but want to catch up with each other. The hours you spend talking, filling the spaces of your lives that were separate from each other leave you wondering why you'd ever left each other to begin with. It stays mostly friendly between the two of you until Yusuf asks if you'd ever married. His eyes are too hopeful, warm brown eyes of the person you cared for the most when you were younger that still held a mischievous glint. No, you'd never married, for one reason or another - you don't miss the grin that takes over his face easily. You return the question, hopeful that he hadn't either. The grin softens, and he tells you that he hadn't. It surprises you that he hadn't teased you about it, or made a joke of some sort as he was apt to do. It shocks you, even more, when he says something along the lines of always having loved you, and not wanting that connection with another person - at least not the way yours was. Your cheeks heat up, but you don't deny him the reassurance that you felt the same.

With Edward, I feel like the trope that fits best would be learning to love again. His first marriage obviously dealt some damage, and post that fallout, he really doesn't do the romance part of relationships. When you come into his life, even though there is a physical relationship, there's not much outside of that. It takes months before an actual relationship begins to develop, although Edward convinces himself that it's a friendship before anything else. It's something of an eventuality, where it kind of hits him out of the blue that you're much more than a friend. Maybe you're side by side on the Jackdaw, or walking down the streets of Nassau. Maybe you're unaware of the moment or have been yearning for him to feel the same as you do, but he's looking at you like he's not quite there. More than anything it's startling for him - feeling something like the beginnings of love makes him nervous, the fear of getting hurt again and losing you completely is not something he's willing to do. So, he does what he does best and pulls away. Which is dumb, but he can't help himself. Edward's not the type to talk unless you make him, which is hard to do when he has an actual ship that he can leave on at any given moment. If you give him space, he'll take it with no hesitation. Out of sight out of mind is the creed he follows in this situation, but he can't deny that he misses you. Or that he looks for you perched on some crates in the ship, and that he misses your teasing tone directed at him. It isn't until something happens where your life is in danger, rumors of a life-threatening injury, possibly even death, make their way across the Caribbean to him that he realizes how stupid it was to just leave. There's a new fear, an ache deep in his gut that because of the physical distance he put between the two of you, there was no way he would ever see you again, that it was too late. When he storms the beaches of Nassau looking for you, or even some of your shared acquaintances, it's not the actions of a bloodthirsty lunatic looking to avenge you, it's a desperate man looking for another chance. It isn't until he sees you, in the pub you both used to frequent sipping an ale that he slows, though his heartbeat doesn't. When his fingers meet your wrist, tugging you close, he doesn't quite believe you're really here in front of him. He questions you momentarily, asking if you're alright - and you're quick to return the question because of the two of you, Edward's the one who looks like he's lost his mind. It matters little that you're surrounded by colleagues and friends, he's quick to tell you how much you matter to him, and there's something of a promise that leaving you is something he'd never do willingly again.

It was always forbidden, between you and Mary. Although that's not her trope, no, it's something more paranormal than anything. Even when you knew her as James Kidd, it was never something you could have. Was that what attracted you to it in the first place? Maybe, at the beginning at least. How it evolved, however, the two of you became so deeply entangled, it could be called love in another life. When she died, it felt like part of you died with her. For months you lived in your grief, knowing nothing else besides it. All-consuming as it was, what was worse was the what-ifs. What if you'd been bolder with your love, with your affection? What if you hadn't had to hide it? What if you'd asked her not to follow Rackham with Anne? What if, what if, what if? Memories of quiet mornings, her sharing secrets with you that she never shared with anyone else, passionate nights spent hidden away from prying eyes. Each remembrance started bleeding into your dreams, though it wasn't the memory exactly. They were new, fresh ones as if Mary were still living and breathing right beside you. You'd stayed in bed for weeks, not wanting to wake from the false reality you'd created for yourself - one where she was still there with you. There, her fingers were softer than they ever were here. If the two of you ever were drinking there, her face remained the same muted skin tone, not the warm flush of pink that donned her nose and cheeks. On nights you felt more aware of the fact that it wasn't quite real, but not necessarily a dream, you'd ask her who she was. It was a question you never quite got an answer to, just a smirk that felt misplaced from her, or a chuckle that was a note deeper than it should've been. Quick to brush it off though, and remiss to leave the world and your person behind, you cherished the moments that you'd never gotten to have with her there.

It's not necessarily shocking that Haytham is absolutely the forbidden trope. There's something about him where it fits too perfectly, I think. For most things, he's always been the type to earn what he wanted, to take it if need be. But there's something about the things he simply cannot have that makes him want it more. You were raised in Boston, working at the pub your family had owned for quite some time. Growing up you were unaware of the clientele that frequented, though you were quickly learning the types that came into the bar, and the groups they were a part of. Your family favored some over others, agreed with their belief systems, and liked the business they brought. When Haytham came over to America, establishing his presence there became in part, coming to your tavern. It wasn't the one he preferred to work at, but there were rumors of Assassin's frequenting it, so it was simply a point of intrigue. What was preferable, however, was you, behind the bar - a warm smile directed at him, thinly covering a layer of distrust. To be fair, there was a sneaking suspicion of him - you'd known most of the local Assassin's, and not one of them ever mentioned another that was supposed to be here. But the familiar insignia and gauntlet on his forearm confused you further, though you said little of it. When he spoke to you, there was a want to believe him - his tone light, yet authoritative that was quick to send shivers down your spine. To be near him was somewhat intoxicating, the type of infatuated that only drunks seemed to be, and in the pit of your stomach you knew you couldn't trust him. He's never been one to give up, and he's certainly got you in his sights.

This is entirely not shocking, but I believe Shay's trope would be a marriage of convenience. And it's not because he doesn't have a lot of love to give, he absolutely does, and it's also not for lack of trying, because have you seen that man? He could hold the door open one time with a smile and have you swooning for him. (also is this biased because I've kind of written something along the lines of Shay marrying for convenience? yes mind your business!!!) Okay, the way I see it, you're engaged to him before you've even met him. Let's say your parents are trying to climb their way up the Templar ranks, and his status and closeness with Haytham are desirable. Not only because they want to succeed, but they also want you to succeed. And you're nervous beyond anything because you know how Charles Lee is and the thought of marrying anyone in the least bit similar is reprehensible to you. There's not much you can do with your parent's strong will - and if you'd up and left the repercussions would be dangerous for them - and yourself as well. For the months in which he remains away, you can't sleep. Tossing and turning all night long becomes routine, and the bags under your eyes begin to peek through. Your parents notice, more so when the looming threat of him coming to meet you appears and the plans become solid - each day your anxieties get worse and worse. They swear to you to give him a chance, they knew him once before he'd left America to complete Templar business worldwide. And you do, but not for yourself as much as it is for them. When you first lay eyes on him the most shocking thing is that he's attractive. You'd been expecting a Lee type, but his eyes are warm and there's a constant smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. More than anything he seems happy to be here, though you're not sure if the promise of a younger fiancé is the cause. You are awkward at best, unsure of your place in things. Little moments in which he locks eyes with you and gives you a reassuring smile calm the anxieties that overwhelmed you completely. and though it's not a grand sweeping romance you may have dreamed of, it seems that there is more than enough room for love between the two of you.

I had a thought right, where Connor meets one of Haytham's accomplices during the missions where they work together, right? It's a very Romeo and Juliet situation. So, you're one of the Templars, and while you don't understand the Grand Master's thought process of working with Connor, you're not going to say anything about it. You simply do as told, and you find that you don't mind working with the Assassin all that much. Besides your extreme differences in beliefs, the two of you work well together. Sure, in the beginning, it's awkward, and there's a lot of distrust between the two of you. But eventually, the more you work together, the better the two of you function together. And there's a thought, a what-if, one night when he's tending to you with a small battle wound, that leaves you reeling for weeks, doubting everything you've ever known. But it's not something that's ever really expounded on, and certainly not something you'd bring up with the group you'd surrounded yourself with. And Haytham had trusted you, with the secret of his son, and with you being on the missions even alone sometimes - the thought of accidentally falling in love with his son left you feeling like you'd betrayed the order. And whether you're acting odd - skittish even - or seemingly distancing yourself from the Order, your Grand Master is quick to notice. But he notices even more on a mission he's joined you on, the way the two of you work in tandem, the way Connor freezes when you're knocked on the ground and only resumes when you're up again, and the way you smile at him, even though the threat of death lurked in the shadows. You know he knows, without even a word shared between the two of you, that you're in love with his son, and he with you, despite all odds. It's a mercy, that he gives you an option (perhaps the man has become sentimental in his old age) that you can fake your death, cutting all contact with Connor, or Haytham can kill you himself. You take the first option begrudgingly, and for months you live under the radar. It's not till the old man's death that you find him in a tavern next to Charles Lee, completely frozen in your spot, unable to breathe. When his eyes find you, his expression matches yours, and he's reluctant to touch you. There's an undeniable hurt laced in his tone as he utters your name. There's a lot of explaining to do on your end, but the fact that you're here, alive and in front of him? He'll be by your side regardless.

You're gonna tell me Arno Dorian isn't the King of a good, old-fashioned love triangle? To start with the basics, of him already loving Elise, and having loved her since childhood, he's not expecting to fall in love with anyone new anytime soon. Even when they're on opposite sides, he's still without a doubt in love with her. Especially when he's exiled, living in Versailles, which is where you meet him. His reputation precedes him there, but you recall the boy you vaguely knew many years ago. Something about his situation breaks your heart whenever you see him. It really takes a few simple acts of kindness to earn his trust, which is shocking to you. Perhaps because you knew him, though not well, before everything in his life turned upside down, but he clung to you once you proved your worth. In drunken stupors he would confess his love to you, forgetting everything he said come morning. And still, you found yourself caring for him anyway. The words he whispered when drunk, though not to be believed, held your heart in a chokehold. It hurt more than it helped, that you wished he would remember how he felt, that he would look at you and think of someone worthy of love. And while Arno does love you, in a sort of twisted way, he also loves Elise. He loved you when you read to him, your voice melodically reading the words as he nursed a hangover. He loved the way you looked at him, with hope in your eyes and bated breath. He loved to come from the pubs and kiss you because it felt right and eased the abonnement he'd felt better than booze. If it were a contest of who held Arno's heart more, it was clear you weren't the winner. Some days you were okay with the love you did receive, and others, not so much. When Elise finally made her way to collect him, there was no doubt she thought you enabled the behavior. If only she'd seen him at the beginning of his exile - you were slowly drawing him out of the hole she'd dug him in - or at least that's how you viewed it. It wasn't shocking when he'd followed her to Paris, though it hurt more than you cared to admit. Still, part of you hoped he'd make his way back to you someday.

Clearly, I'm a sucker for tragedy. And, true to form, Elise is no different settling entirely on the right person, no time. It was something undeniable from the moment you laid eyes on her. You didn't know how, or why, you just knew that you would love her for all of your days. It took a moment, for you to convince her that it was something along the lines of meant to be. In between the two of you, she is more of a realist, guiding you back to the ground with a gentle reminder. The beginning was all passion, every shared moment spent with the intent to have more tomorrow's. It was a breath of a fresh air, being with Elise. You couldn't deny that you'd follow her to the ends of the earth, so long as her eyes twinkled with the promise of adventure. There was something to be said of the way she could convince you to do anything without her even asking you to. But regardless of what you'd hoped for, the plans you'd whisper to each other over pillows and under sheets, your world would stop spinning not long after she took her last breath. It was something you'd only just begun to be aware of, her life's work involved with the Templars. To come out of the world the two of you painstakingly built for yourselves was beyond impossible - only to face the reality that your person that you'd loved so much was nothing more than a memory.

I firmly believe Jacob needs a partner in crime. To be fair, you were in the London crime scene long before Jacob ever made his way to the city. He's an opportunist at best, and he couldn't deny he envied your power and authority. The first option was to take it from you and try as he did, you were not relinquishing it to some boy from the country. No, instead you took the opportunity to teach him, show him the ropes. Which was fairly generous of you considering where he started. It didn't take long for him to catch on, and he gained popularity with a group he began calling the blighters. You didn't mind, not really, he wasn't a threat to you. In fact, you didn't mind reminding him that you could take whatever power he had away whenever he got too cocky. As his own group grew, an alliance formed. It was working out fairly well for the two of you, and meetings between both of you turned into drinks at the pub turned into nights shared. From the first night spent together, your dynamic shifted. You tried to reason that it was a one-time occasion and avoided being alone with him as much as possible for weeks afterward. It was harder to deal with him than you usually would. When it happened again, there was no denying that there was something between you two, and while you figured the new relationship out, things were especially strained. Jacob had a difficult time learning that while you were together, it didn't earn him a right to go about demanding things of you. It wasn't fair to you, you had a lot more people to keep happy and alive than Jacob's ever-changing will. After a while, the learning process weaned and your groups flourished once more. There were rumors of the two of you being together intimately, which you didn't bother dignifying, though Jacob couldn't help but let onto it. Which was fine by you, for the most part, it didn't gain or lose respect amongst your group, and you cared little what Jacob's Blighters thought of it. Eventually, though, his group got used to it too.

Evie is the type to sort of ease into a relationship like it's definitely a friends-to-lovers scenario. It's not something she seeks out. No, it's sort of a surprise. Like one day, she'll look at you, her friend, and realize she doesn't want to spend another moment pretending she doesn't love you. I think she's sort of intense, the way she loves, and innocent too? Since it's so unexpected for her, she never thought of a romantic attraction the way she has with you. In becoming an Assassin, she figured it wasn't in the cards for her. Almost resigning herself to the fact that she would likely live alone for the rest of her life. When she met you, she was grateful for your friendship - already feeling less alone than she did previously. You became routine in the best way possible, in that seeing you was something she looked forward to every week, and then every other day, and then every day. It happened so gradually, you almost didn't see it either, though you felt it. You felt it in the way you wished she was there on an especially long trip away, you felt it when she'd told you the truth about her life and her work and her beliefs, you felt it in the way you'd find yourself standing close to her, arms brushing in a way that felt more than friendly though without a name. And while you might expect a big scene immediately (a proposal of feelings maybe?) that seems more Jacob's route. No, Evie doubts every interaction, wonders constantly if you feel the same as she does. Outwardly, some may never know the thoughts that ran rampant through her mind, acting normal as ever. You though, who has spent countless hours and time together can see clearly that something is off, though she's trying to deny it. It's subtle instead, flowers gifted between the pages in your book, all deliberately picked and placed - each flower with meaning she hopes you'll understand. Meanwhile, you're thinking how you're overthinking it, that, of course, she didn't pick a rose because she loves me, we're friends?? It's not until the two of you are alone, in private, that she kisses you, soft and gentle and romantically sweet, that you two finally and completely understand.

Shaun is absolutely a teacher at heart. So it's not far off that his trope would be learning to love. It's always been a passion of his, learning things and storing the knowledge up. Not many want to hear what he has to say, and that's alright only because he's used to it. Then you, a hopeful recruit come along. At first, you're nothing more than a nuisance. He's not used to the attention you're willing to give him, the way your eyes gleam at him when he mentions something about the history of the Brotherhood has him rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. At first, he doesn't want to stop himself, especially when he can't ignore you entirely. But you wear him down, after all, you're nothing if not persistent, and he's not going to ignore the fact that he likes when you ask a question he can answer easily. Rebecca is the first to notice - maybe even before either one of you does. That you linger for a moment, despite having asked all possible questions, and that the second your back is turned towards him, he's looking to where you were as if waiting for one more question. It becomes entirely too apparent when you're on a mission, captured by Abstergo long enough that they're not sure if they can get you back - and if they do, who you'll be after. The next time he sees you, you're a shell of the person you used to be. The light you had in your eyes was dim, almost nonexistent. For weeks, Shaun makes it his mission to come to you. Your positions reversed, it would've been sweet if it weren't so painful. Instead, he asks you questions, quiet ones, about your life before you became an assassin, and when you became more cognizant and more willing, he asks questions about what happened to you there. The day he feels true hope, is when you overhear a conversation between him and William Miles outside your room. He fully expects to begin asking you questions but you stop him before he sets foot in the door. Out of the blue, in a quiet voice he's still not used to, he hears your inflection and a question fall from your lips.

Desmond Miles is the first love trope. It's a relationship that you don't choose, it chooses you. You meet him in New York City, not long after he first moves there. There's something about the way he seems so unsure of himself, he's not even fresh out of high school and he seems so incredibly lost. More than anything it's endearing, and you find yourself drawn to him. The first day you met him, you skipped an entire day of classes just to show him around the city. Your heart breaks when you hear that he doesn't have a place to go - and you find yourself begging your parents before you can help yourself. They agree, though it's only a temporary solution, and they ask more questions than Desmond can take - he doesn't stay long there. To be fair, he doesn't tell you much either about his past, his childhood. It's not until he's older, twenty or so before he makes jokes about it, never serious enough for you to fully understand the depth of the situation. Still, you two stick by each other. He gets an apartment by himself and to your parent's dismay, your college choice is based on wherever Desmond was going to be. It's not even that they didn't like him, because they did, it's just the mysterious aura you found to be alluring was concerning to them. When Abstergo kidnapped him, you assumed he left in the dead of night. For too long, you waited for him to come back, though he never would. Your parents figured that this would happen, honestly more shocked it took him so long to. It would've been without a trace, his life in New York if it weren't for the baby.

[mediaeval-muse]

Video Game Review: Assassin’s Creed Rogue (Ubisoft, 2014)

Genres: action-adventure, third person, open world

Premise: During the mid-18th century, Assassin Shay Patrick Cormac uncovers a First Civilization temple in Lisbon and unwittingly triggers an earthquake that kills thousands. Desperate to keep the Assassins from finding more of these temples and harming more innocents, he joins the North American Templars, whose hold over the British colonies is starting to grow. In the present, research into Shay’s memories triggers a server failure at Abstergo Entertainment, and the unnamed employee from Black Flag must help restore the system.

Platform Played On: PC (Windows)

Rating: 4/5 stars

***Full review under the cut.***

I am evaluating this game based on four key aspects: story, characters, gameplay, and visuals. Because I played this game on a PC, I will not be reviewing the Remastered version, which is only available for consoles.

Content Warnings: violence, blood

Story: Assassin’s Creed Rogue primarily follows Shay Patrick Cormac, an Irish Assassin-turned-Templar who operates during the French and Indian/Seven Years War in North America. Starting as a member of the Brotherhood, Shay is sent to Portugal by Achilles Davenport (the mentor of the North American chapter of Assassins) in order o recover a First Civilization artifact. Unbeknownst to Shay, removing the artifact from the temple triggers an earthquake, killing thousands of innocent people. Furious that Achilles (and perhaps other Assassins) knew this would be a possibility yet refusing to tell Shay, Shay leaves the Assassins and joins the Templars in order to prevent the Brotherhood from accessing more temples and artifacts and from harming more innocent people.

I really liked the overarching story because it gave us clear goals and a clear structure. Shay has one purpose: prevent the Assassins from gaining access to the next First Civilization site. To do that, Shay has to track down and neutralize all of his former Brotherhood colleagues, which adds a level of personal involvement and angst. Structurally, I think this plot made a lot of sense and was well-done, and though it wasn’t as involved as a headliner game (like Black Flag), it did present the player with a straightforward narrative.

The Seven Years War/French and Indian War was an interesting backdrop, though it didn’t have the same entanglement with history as headliners. Shay isn’t really involved with any landmark historical events, but he is responsible for the Templars gaining a foothold in North America, which serves as the setting for Assassin’s Creed III. In that sense, I think this story is more meaningful for people who have played both Assassin’s Creed III and Black Flag. I also think this plot works better for those who intend to continue to Unity, since the end of Shay’s story serves as the beginning for Arno’s.

The main thing I didn’t like was the game’s treatment of Native Americans. While I don’t think it was outright offensive, there was a point in the narrative where Shay had to rescue an Oneida tribe from Assassin thugs, and Shay does have to confront and kill one of his former friends, who is Native. In that sense, Rogue may be triggering for some people, but I personally didn’t find it egregious like the brutal scenes in Assassin’s Creed III. Rogue does contain some missions where Shay has to seek out Native “totems” to unlock some special Native armor, so that could be appropriative, but I’ll defer to Native gamers on that issue.

I also just wish the game was longer, mainly because it’s the only one where we get a full Templar perspective, and it had interesting missions. If it had been a headliner and gotten the amount of time and resources other headliners receive, I think this game could have done really well.

The present-day Abstergo arc continues to be less compelling than the Desmond Miles frame from previous games. I didn’t find the system failure to be very exciting, nor did I think the unfolding narrative about Otso Berg was communicated in a particularly engaging way. I do think the idea of the Assassins confronting the flaws in their belief system is an interesting one, but we barely see any Assassins in the modern day arc, so it’s difficult to feel like there are stakes.

Characters: Shay is a compelling protagonist in that he has complicated motivations and grey morality. He’s obviously very concerned for ordinary people, even as a Templar, and is very conflicted over the prospect of confronting his former friends. I liked that he seemed to have legitimate concerns about the Assassins and the way their hierarchy is constructed, which made his turn to the Templars more understandable. I liked the opportunity to see why someone might join the Templars, especially if that someone wasn’t completely on board with the authoritarian viewpoint the Order holds.

Shay’s Assassin companions are interesting in that they each seem to have their own combat abilities, which made for unique confrontations. Hope, for example, is an Assassin who is skilled with poisons, and Liam is pretty precise with a firearm. Encountering them, therefore, felt like several different boss fights that avoided repetition. I also think Shay spent enough time with each person at the beginning so that confronting them felt like an emotional challenge. I think the emotional stakes could have been enhanced if the game was longer and contained more time for character interactions, but with what it had, I think Rogue used its time effectively.

Shay’s Templar companions are also well-used in that the game makes clear that Shay feels an emotional bond with them. Shay first grows attached to Colonel George Monro, and it’s clear from the outset that Monro’s fondness for Shay is what motivates the latter to devote himself to the Templars, not necessarily the Order’s ideology. I liked this personal dimension to Shay’s Templar companions because it parallels how people in the modern day become drawn to harmful ideologies or groups: they mainly stay out of fear of being socially rejected. It was a pretty nice touch, and I think it worked better than just having players experience a “gritty” game centered on being unambiguously evil and just wreaking havoc and misery everywhere.

I also liked that we got some familiar faces, such as Achilles Davenport and Haytham Kenway. The conflict between Shay and Achilles serves as background for why Achilles is so broken in Assassin’s Creed III, and I think Rogue does a good job in showing how Achilles’ motivations are just as complex and grey as Shay’s are. Haytham continues to be ruthless, and I liked the budding mentor-mentee relationship between him and Shay. It served as a nice counter balance to the lack of affection between Shay and Achilles, while also giving us more of Haytham’s witty banter.

I will say that I am conflicted on whether or not this game did Adéwalé justice.  Adéwalé was an NPC in Black Flag and a playable character in Freedom Cry, so players who have completed both will have some investment in the character. Since Adéwalé is one of the companions Shay must track down and confront, it may seem like an unfair end to Adéwalé’s story, but again, I’m conflicted - mainly because Shay is supposed to be something of a villain.

Gameplay: The core of Rogue’s gameplay is not that much different from Black Flag’s: players explore the open world using Shay’s ship, the Morrigan, uncovering chests as well as collectibles, such as Templar maps (which are functionally the same as Black Flag’s treasure maps), animus fragments, pieces of a Viking sword, totems, shanties, and others. The Morrigan is upgradable, just like the Jackdaw, and Shay can use it to attack French ships to acquire resources such as wood, stone, metal, and cloth. Doing so will raise Shay’s notoriety, just as in Black Flag, but instead of lowering Shay’s wanted status by defeating enemies, Shay can only reset his wanted level by leaving an area until things quiet down. This made for a scaled-back version of ship combat and exploration, but it wasn’t a huge drawback to my gaming experience.

I did like that even though Rogue borrowed heavily from Black Flag, it did put its own spin on several gameplay elements to make them feel more integrated with the setting. For example, the weather at sea revolved more around cold weather than tropical weather, so instead of thunderstorms and cyclones, Shay was subject to icebergs and freezing water. Shay could also go hunting and craft like Edward, but the wildlife included new animals such as polar bears, arctic foxes, narwhals, and other North American or Arctic creatures. On land, Shay can intercept assassin contracts instead of accepting them, so instead of killing a target, Shay will have to protect a target by getting to the Assassin(s) before they can complete their mission.

Players are also able to unlock zones on the map by capturing forts, just like in Black Flag, but there are far fewer of these than in the game’s predecessor. Rogue relies a bit more heavily instead on “Assassin gang hideouts,” which function something like the Borgia towers in Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood or the forts in Assassin’s Creed III. For each hideout, Shay must complete a number of objectives (like kill the gang leader, cut down the flag, sabotage a poison barrel), which will then unlock the area’s harbormasters and general stores. Doing so will also unlock renovations, which Shay can complete to increase his revenue, similar to how renovations gave Ezio an income in previous games.

Shay can also gain income by managing a fleet, similar to Edward’s fleet in Black Flag. Players capture ships via boarding them during gameplay, and then send them out on missions to “progress the Seven Years’ War.” Aside from the resources, which change a bit, this aspect of the game was functionally the same as Black Flag, so it was fairly familiar and didn’t take long to pick up.

In terms of weapons, Shay has access to the staples: hidden blade, pistols, smoke bombs, rope dart, etc. Shay can dual wield with a sword and dagger (rather than Edward’s two swords), but the change is mostly aesthetic. Shay also has access to sleep darts, berserk darts, and firecracker darts via an air rifle rather than a blowgun, but again, the change is mostly aesthetic. The biggest change to equipment is probably the grenade launcher, which can fire sleep, berserk, and shrapnel grenades to affect multiple enemies, and the presence of gas as an environmental weapon (the effects of which Shay can mitigate on himself by using a gas mask).

In terms of combat and stealth, not much is different. Shay can use eagle vision, hide in bushes or tall grass, whistle to draw enemies closer to him, etc. The only thing that’s tricky is that Assassin gang members will hide randomly in the environment, ready to take Shay out as he passes through. Shay can avoid attacks by listening for “whispers” and using eagle vision to spot Assassin thugs before they jump him.

I think that in sum, the lack of innovation regarding mechanics isn’t as bothersome as some people make it out to be. Because the “flavor” of the mechanics changed, I do think Rogue did a good job adapting what it could in the short amount of time it had. Enough is the same where picking up mechanics is easy if the player has completed Black Flag, but narratively, enough is different to make the experience at least feel tailored to the setting.

Visuals: Rogue’s primary strengths in terms of visuals lies in the unique settings and Shay’s Templar aesthetic. Although Rogue doesn’t have the beautiful tropical waters of Black Flag, I do think it rendered the snow-covered mountains well and made the world feel like a cold environment. It took the best elements of Assassin’s Creed III (the trees, the city layouts) and combined them with the spirit of exploration from Black Flag. I particularly liked exploring the shipwrecks, which were not underwater, but fused with ice to create fun sites where I felt like I was playing “the floor is lava” (the lava, in this case, was freezing cold water that could kill you).

I also really loved Shay’s Templar aesthetic, which consisted of a lot of fancy 18th century coats and vests, combined with a strong black and red color scheme. Everything from the Morrigan’s sails and captain’s cabin to Shay’s “house” in New York repeats this color scheme, which was a nice change from what we typically see of the Assassins. I also liked that a lot of Shay’s design contained nods to his Irish heritage, from the Morrigan’s hull to the knotwork details on his coat. It was a nice touch which made everything feel a little more personal.

In terms of animations, I didn’t notice anything that set Rogue apart from other games. Shay didn’t have appealing finishers, nor did I encounter a lot of bugs that affected my impression of the game. There are some here and there, but I’ve come to expect bugs in every Assassin’s Creed game, so...

Final Verdict: Although Assassin’s Creed Rogue replicates much of the gameplay from its predecessors, the complex protagonist, solid narrative structure, and unique settings make it a memorable game that gives players new insight into the Assassin-Templar conflict.

[thepandadrawer]

How things had changed, how slowed down everything had become after the quick pace and frantic defensive movements you’d fought with. How distraught he’d become, how terrified, how horrified, how quickly he’d reached for you, how quickly he’d abandoned his weapon in favour of scooping you into his arms.

He’s still trying to shield you from the rain.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not!” He’s angry now – at himself? At you? He sighs your name; his eyes are watery and red, his bottom lip trembles. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Would… you have?”

His answer is a distressed closing of his eyes, a hastily muffled sob as he drops his face to your shoulder that tells you the answer to your question more than words could.

“I can fix this,” he whispers next, though his voice shakes with uncertainty and pain. He can’t fix this. “I can fix this.”

It’s growing colder and darker. You try to shake your head but hardly have the strength, wish you could say his name and only his name; instead you bury your face in his chest and manage to slowly lift your hand from the ground to weakly caress his face. It’s nothing more than a ghostly brush of your fingertips against his cheek and jaw, nothing that would have any effect on him any other time but now it has him hitching his breath and fighting a sob.

“It’s… alright…”

For @romancingthecreed, a some fanart from Little Fall of Rain

Mah first art based off anst :D Hope you like!

Art (C) Me Shay Cormac (C) Assassin’s Creed: Rogue (C) Ubisoft Story (C) @romancingthecreed

[intoxicated-chan]

❝𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬❞ ✠ 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐜

Inspired by “Army Dreamers” by Kate Bush // Best viewed in dark mode

Shay was scared to admit that he had fallen for Liam’s younger sister, he planned to take his secret to the grave and he succeeded for while until he found you years later, this time, possibly on the opposite sides.

Paring ➳ Shay Cormac x Liam’s Sister!Reader

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader/Assassin Reader, typical Assassin's Creed violence, blood, assassinations, sexual content, death, murder, other tags to be added...

CHAPTERS ↓ Tumblr & AO3 Only

𝐎𝐧𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬❞

𝐓𝐰𝐨 ✠ ❝𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞❞

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬❞

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ✠ ❝𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬❞

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ✠ ❝𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬❞

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @cafekitsune and @benkeibear for the dividers. I use it all the time.

[gococogo]

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.

[gococogo]

Day Seven: Drunk Sex

Kinktober Masterlist will be posted after October

Synopsis: The lot celebrate Shay's birthday. Both Shay and Haytham get a little too drunk for their own liking, making sex a struggle.

Word Count: 2.6K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Nsfw/Drunk sex/An*l/Spit as lube

“Twenty-five, sir.”

Maybe Shay thought Haytham already knew his age. Or maybe Gist or someone else in the order had told him. But, the Grandmaster chokes on his ale as he’s taking a sip and the liquid sprays up into his face.

Everyone at the table goes silent, all trying to hold in their laughter. It’s quiet a scene, seeing Haytham shocked still as ale drips form his chin as he bends over forward on his chair. All so he doesn’t ruin his coat and clothing. He retrieves a handkerchief from his breast pocket, flicking it out before wiping his face.

Shay clears his throat so that any hint of amusement is gone from his voice, “I do apologize.”

Haytham holds up his hand as he sets his drink on the table with the others. He does not normally drink with his fellow Templars, but tonight is special occasion. Shay’s birthday. Something that Gist forced out of him a while ago. And only because it is Shay is Haytham here in the Greenwich Tavern.

The Grandmaster gathers himself again, patting his handkerchief into his pocket again.   

“It is alright, Shay. I just, did not expect you to be so young,” he says with the slightest hint of a chuckle.

If it was anyone else, no one would have seen the smirk on the Grandmaster’s lips, but Shay does. He sits back in his chair, holding his own ale with two hands on his lap.

“I wouldn’t exactly call twenty-five young, sir,” Shay responds as he feels his cheeks heat up.

“Bollocks, Shay!” Gist cries out, slapping his Captain’s shoulder. “It is the prime of your life and you are still a wee babe in our eyes!”

Shay chuckles at that and tries to his face away. “I don’t feel young no more, that’s for sure.”

“Wise beyond your years,” Haytham responds.

That, has Shay looking his way with raised brows. In all his life he’s never been called wise and it feels, odd. Gist raises his cup and cheers towards Shay. All but Haytham clink their cup with his and celebrate even further. The entire rest of the night, the comment keeps twirling in Shay’s mind. All the way until he drunkenly stumbles down the halls of the tavern to his room.

He had booked a room out earlier that day because he knew for a fact, that he wouldn’t be able to make the trip home. He normally can hold his liquor, but keeping up with Gist is a whole other game. Who knew an American could keep up with an Irishman.

He stares at the doorhandle as he tries to open it, fumbling around with it. It isn’t until a warm hand overlaps his own and takes it off gently to open it with a key does he realise his mistake. Shay leans on the door heavily, his forehead whacking against it. He looks at Haytham with a big smile on his face.

Haytham may also be a little bit topsy turvy. He did notice that the Grandmaster tonight was in such a good mood. A mood that had Shay buying him a drink every time he noticed his cup was empty. Who is he to blame? How could he have such a handsome man buying his own drinks.

“Are you to help me inside, kind sir?” Shay slurs.

This only brings a warm smile to Haytham’s features that makes him look gorgeous. It’s a rare thing to see, but Shay relishes in each moment it happens.  

“To make sure a drunkard fool gets home safely so no one snatches them up?” Haytham asks.

Shay only raises an eyebrow, waiting for the other to answer his own question.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Then snatch me away, sir,” Shay smiles.

At that, Haytham opens the door.

And Shay falls into the room like a sack of potatoes.

He hits the ground heavily with a grunt and a groan. He knows for a fact that everyone in the tavern would have heard the massive thud. Someone across the road would have heard him.

Haytham has to compose himself before he looks around the door frame at Shay laying face down on the floor. Haytham will have to be honest with himself here, he is a little intoxicated himself and this is all a little bit too amusing for him right now. Shay was terrible with buying him so many drinks. But how could he not, he would have hurt the more man’s heart.

He quickly jumps inside and moves Shay’s legs with his boot so he can get the door closed and locked. Shay finally gets his arms under him but the world spins around him. Maybe that last pint wasn’t such a good idea. Haytham gets his arms underneath Shay’s pits and lifts him. But it’s all dead weight at this point and Haytham grunts as he tries his best. He truly isn’t thinking. Something only Shay could bring out in him.  

“Shay a little help?” Haytham wheezes.

The Captain gets his feet under him but he trips over himself, pushing Haytham back. Luckily, the bed is behind them and they both fall onto the bed in a heap. Haytham huffs out his lung capacity of air as Shay lands right on top of him. A drunk laugh escapes Shay as he rolls of the Grandmaster.

“Image having the others see us now,” Shay comments.

“I would rather not,” Haytham bites.

Shay’s crew and Gist are still partying downstairs without the main man. The noise can be heard from the second floor where the rooms are. The floors aren’t all that thick in the first place. He’s surprised someone didn’t come up and investigate the loud bang.  

Haytham had retired first, and then an hour later Shay had followed suit. Not wanting to make it noticeable but it isn’t like half the crew has their own rumours about the both of them now. Even Gist has asked a couple of times and each time, has narrowly escaped the nearest thing being thrown at him. But none of their comments are out of hate or disgust. Yet. Either way, Shay would hide their asses before any harm came to him or Haytham.

“Did you really think I was older, sir?” Shay picks up randomly as he shuffles up the bed more.

But he’s dragged down the bed quickly by the straps crisscrossing his chest. Haytham begins unbuckling them and suddenly, Shay likes where this is heading.

“I might of. I’m not sure really now,” Haytham comments, his dark blue eyes focused on the straps.

But his normally elegant fingers now fumble of the buckles and straps. He curses under his breath as he gives up, letting Shay take over.

“Why do you ask?”

Shay shrugs as he sits up, throwing the straps to the ground. He then takes off his belt and sash to even begin taking his coat off. Sometimes nights like this, Shay really wished he didn’t wear so many layers and armour.

“Just thinking about how old I look I guess,” Shay responds.

Haytham stares at him out of the corner of his eye. After a few seconds, he meets his gaze with an expression that says “Huh?” For the first time, his quick witted mind can’t catch on. Which is a little odd for Shay, if he was proper sober.

“Do I look old?” Shay asks instead.

Haytham expressions furrow and stares at the Irishman for a moment. Trying to collect his thoughts in his drunkard haze to try and answer correctly. This isn’t the time to be having this conversation, but truly it is the only time they’ll ever speak like this. Outside of rooms like this one, it is strictly formal.

“There are some times where you act your age, Shay. But most of the times, the things you have been through, you act as if you have many years of experience under your belt. Many more than others can say or ever do in their own life times,” Haytham answers back proper, seeming to sober up a bit.

Shay now realizes, he truly is too drunk for this talk. And with the slight sway as he sits, Haytham sees that as well. Haytham comes to Shay, wrapping a hand around his neck and bringing him in for a kiss. The simple touch feels like fire, the alcohol in his system doing wonders.

Haytham pulls away all to whisper, “We’ll speak of this another time, not now.”

“Not now,” Shay repeats, not being able to form any other words.

The hands that glide over his body feel so good. Shay captures the other’s lips in another kiss, needing more, needing to taste the alcohol on Haytham’s tongue, needing to touch the warm skin it almost burns. Shay helps Haytham strips of his clothes and vice a versa, layer by layer, piece by piece until every bit is on the floor of the tavern room. Leaving both men completely nude for each other to gaze upon with a drunkard smirk.

Shay can’t help but feel Haytham’s toned body up, his fingers flittering over old scars and new. The Grandmaster shivers under the touch, breathing shallowing with his mouth slightly parted. Shame is something of the past tonight. All that lies between them is pure adoration.

Haytham pushes Shay back down on the bed with an almost comedic oof. But he stays there, watching and waiting. Not for Haytham to do whatever he’s planning, but for his head to stop spinning. He groans lightly to himself, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. All while he lets Haytham do whatever he’s doing. But whatever this is, he’s very much into it. Because everything in his body tingles.

He just wishes he didn’t drink that last pint so he can enjoy this a little bit more.

But his cock still stands at attention, needy and ready. But he don’t dare touch himself because every single pass of a hand or finger is like a hot fire. A hot fire that makes him want to burst like a firework.

Haytham grabs his thighs and lifts them up so his ass is on full display. Now, Shay uncovers his eyes so that he can watch the first Grandmaster of the American Colonial Rite’s tongue disappear into his ass.

Shay gasps and tenses up, grabbing the bed sheets like some dollar whore. His senses feel like their heightened but sloppy at the same time. It’s an odd sensation but he wants more. And Haytham gives it to him. Eating him out slowly and making sure that there’s enough spit and saliva for the next course of action. Because neither of them bought any oil, and no tavern would supply such a thing in this day and age for an act as sinful as this. For Haytham’s tongue is a wicked devil at that.

Woman must fall at his knees for such a talent.

When Haytham is done, he has Shay trembling in his touch. The Irishman swallows thickly, chuckling at himself. He’s usually so much well preserved in bed. Same could be said for Haytham. But with drink in the equation, all manners seem to go out the window.

Haytham moves up Shay’s body a little lazily, all so he can capture his lips in a sloppy kiss. Their teeth clack together but neither of them care at the pain that ebbs in their faces. Shay runs his fingers through Haytham’s hair, making it a complete mess and ridding him of the cute ribbon he always has in his hair.

Shay moves his kisses to Haytam’s chin, then his neck and then his nape. All until he has the man panting over him.

Haytham reaches down to his own cock, grinding his teeth at the touch of his own hand. He brings himself to Shay’s ass, waiting a moment before pushing in slightly. Shay hisses loudly, grabbing onto Haytham as the head of his cock enters his ass.

“A lil warning next time,” Shay seethes.

“Apologises.”

Shay keeps a hand pushed against Haytham’s stomach, stopping him from moving any further. The burn and stretch isn’t good right now. Something that Shay wants to push away from. If they had oil or literally anything else but spit, this would be so much easier and less painful.

But idiot drunks will be drunk idiots.

When the pain eases is when Shay lets the other move. Haytham grinds softly into him, all too sluggish to do anything proper. But neither is Shay, so he can’t blame the man. He keeps his legs wrapped around Haytham’s waist and that’s the best he can do for the other.  

With each shallow thrust Haytham is able to ease more of himself into Shay. He grunts in Shay’s ear, the sensation feeling as good as the Irishman is feeling as well. The burning pleasure that comes with being intoxicated is something that Shay chased a lot when he was just a fresh adult. Going from tavern to tavern and drinking and whoring. But this feels so much better than all those times. It’s nothing like all those quick fucks and girls in Havana.

But by God does he feel good right now. He holds onto Haytham for dear life, because he feels like if he lets go, he’s going to float away. He holds Haytham close so they’re chest to chest all while the other moves his hips, grinding just so there’s enough friction between the both of them. Shay’s dick sits in between their stomachs and the smallest movement as his balls tightening. The noises Haytham is making in his neck is going to send him over the edge let alone everything going down there.

Haytham keeps an even pace for a while before he gets up on his hands and knees, pushing Shay’s hips up with him. He bows his head, hair falling over his face as he quickens his pace. He pants loudly now as he tries to reach his high. And this new angle and pace has Shay gasping and grunting at the tingling sensation. At the coil tightening in his gut that is close to bursting.

He wraps a hand around his dick, matching Haytham’s pace. He wants to come at the same time. Try to at least but they’re both so close. Shay can feel it and by the way Haytham is going at it, he’s close as well.

Shay comes first, his whole body tensing up as he lets himself go onto his stomach. It hits him like a punch to the jaw, making his head spin and spiral. He tightens around Haytham’s cock, stuttering the man’s movements. But Haytham uses the last of his energy to thrust hard a couple more times before driving his dick deep into Shay with a grunt and a moan. The warm sensation of Haytham coming inside of him makes Shay’s own orgasm something that makes the room spin even more. He has to quickly cover his face with a hand to make everything stop, all so that he doesn’t have to lean over the bed and vomit up everything he’s ingested in the past couple of hours. Which Shay thinks would be a complete mood breaker.

Haytham collapses onto Shay, almost winding the man. But the weight is fine, it grounds Shay quicker than what he was doing himself. And Haytham doesn’t seem to notice which is a plus. They both stay still, catching their breath and too tired to move.

Shay makes the comment in his head that they should clean up before passing out. He doesn’t know if he gets as far as voicing it because he’s not sure what his mouth is doing at the moment. Everything seems numb. It’s all lost though as he passes out, slipping into a drunk and sex filled sleep.

[gococogo]

Day Three: Bath Sex/Mutual Masturbation

Kinktober Masterlist coming after October

Synopsis: Shay is back in Boston for a short time while on a lead on the box. Haytham realizes how much he's missed the man, but all while knowing Shay will leave soon. Duty for the safety of man kind and all.

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Nsfw/Angst/Feelings/Hanky panky

For some reason, it’s a peaceful night in Boston.

The bath sits in front of the fire, a long cast iron tub that only someone like Haytham could afford. One in which only himself and Shay have the privilege of sitting in. Shay has only bathed in those small wooden ones where your knees are up touching your ears all while you scrub away. But to Shay now, being able to lay down and stretch his legs out in hot water is heavenly. He could fall asleep here. The water still nice and hot and keeping warm from the fire.  

All while Haytham sits at his desk on the other side of the room behind Shay writing out reports. Trying to find out the next best cause of action for these new precursor sights he has found. The soft scribble of pencil on paper is a soothing background noise.

The reason why Shay is back in America in Haytham’s bath and not half way across the world somewhere is all because of the box. His now cold lead had bought him into Boston, where he so happened to run into Haytham in the Green Dragon. Or maybe Shay made sure he was in the tavern when Haytham and the rest were around. The looks on their faces when he popped up. He wish he could have that painted.  

Haytham’s pencil suddenly snaps under the amount of pressure the man was putting it under. It’s soon followed by a curse and the pencil is heard hitting the other side of the room.

Shay slowly opens his eyes. “Haytham,” he slowly says.

Said man almost jumps out of his skin. He had forgotten Shay was in here with him. The thought that the hunter is with him again is still an odd thought. It’s been a good few years. Haytham leans back in his chair and runs his hands down his face with a soft groan.

“Come here,” Shay drawls.

He doesn’t bother looking over or moving in the tub to peer upon Haytham. But he doesn’t have to, to know that the man is frustrated and pouting. And Haytham is. He stays sitting and stares at the back of Shay’s head with a frown.

“Don’t mind me, Shay,” Haytham conflicts. “I’m alright.”

“Haytham,” his name is said more sternly this time. Almost like a parent warning their child.  

The Grandmaster loudly sighs so that Shay can hear his annoyance. But it doesn’t stop the man from waving a hand, beckoning him over. Haytham stares at him a moment longer before standing and walking over to where Shay is in the tub.

Shay smiles slyly as Haytham stands over him with his arms crossed over his chest. There is no soap suds sitting on the top of the water to cover his body from Haytham’s wondering eyes. Shay’s hair falls down his shoulders, the greying hairs at his temples seeming to catch the fire light. It reminds Haytham all too much of his own and how old they’re both getting.

Shay holds out a hand, “Join me, Haytham.”

Haytham wants to protest, but as he gives a look over to his desk he’s reminded how this moment could slip through his fingers if he chooses to say no. How quickly Shay could be pulled away from him again. And then how many more years will he go without seeing the other man?

He unclips his cloak and lets it land at his feet with a loud thud. Shay’s smile now reaches his eyes as he watches his Grandmaster strip in front of him. He rests his hand back into the water, waiting patiently for Haytham to finish. Layer by layer until he’s kicking off his under garments. Brown eyes trail down his body, not ashamed by looking at something marvellous in front of him.

Haytham steps in slowly and Shay moves so that he can lay down between his legs. The bath is a little too small but neither of them complain. Even when the water splashes and sloshes out a little as Shay sits up straight against the back of the tub, not a word is spoken or snapped.

Now settled and finally being able to just, look at Shay, Haytham’s words almost get caught in his throat, “I thought I would never see you again.”

The smile from Shay’s lips falls and his head tilts ever so slightly. “You didn’t think I’d find the box?” He asks a little offended.

Haytham shakes his head once. “No, no Shay of course not. I know you’ll find it,” he phases off.

But Shay waits for him to finish, letting the fire crackle and pop and the gentle breathing of the both of them to ease the silence. Haytham looks down, finding himself not able to speak as he looks at the other.

“I thought I would be long dead.”

Haytham leaves it at that. Long dead before Shay got back. That leaves a heavy lead like feeling in the hunter’s gut. Shay stares at him for a moment with a look in his eyes that Haytham can’t read.

He then sits forward and moves until he’s kneeling over Haytham, using the sides of the bath tub to keep him up. He’s mere inches away from Haytham’s face, looking at him through thick lashes.

“Yet, here you are,” Shay speaks so softly it’s almost lost to the night.

“And yet, here I am.”

With that, Shay brings their lips together with a passion long forgotten. His hands come to Haytham’s sides, holding him as all he can do is melt in the touch. It has been too long. Haytham’s hands are caressing Shay’s head, running his fingers through his hair and tugging ever so slightly. He feels a little desperate. Like someone that hasn’t been touched in over a decade.

But hasn’t he? Hasn’t Haytham kept to himself all these years and focused solely on his own work. Searching and failing for these goddamn precursor sights. Each trail leading to a dead end that leaves him more frustrated to isolate himself in his office every hour of the day. Leaving himself to rot away by himself and become dead meat. 

But Shay, Shay treats him like a cherished, lost item now found. With a long lost love that has never gone away and has only been festering inside him. Touching and feeling Haytham for any new changes that have happened over the years or any old ones he has always gone over. He finds the old scars and moves quickly over them, but when a finger flitters over a new mark he inspects it with curiosity. All while he moves from Haytham’s mouth to his chin, then down his neck where he begins to lightly suck and graze his teeth over sun kissed skin.

Haytham inhales through his teeth sharply, gripping onto Shay’s shoulder as his body is caressed. A hand travels down Haytham’s body to wrap around his hardening cock. At the simple touch, Shay has the man under him grunting and clenching his jaw to hold in those noises he so much wants to hear.

“Sh-Shay,” Haytham breathes out.

A grin can be felt against his skin as Shay strokes Haytham slowly but surely. The warm water makes it easy as skin glides over skin. But it’s all a little too much when Shay brings his own dick into his fist with Haytham’s. Shay moves his hips to jerk Haytham and himself off as he pants softly and lovely in his ear. The water sloshes at the movement but the clean up is the last thing on Haytham’s mind.

He stares at the ceiling as he can feel the pleasure rippling through his body. His gut tightening and once in his younger years, he knows he would have been able to last longer. But his stamina is not what it once was. And he has realized he is very much starved for touch.

Haytham bucks his hips up into Shay’s hand, trying to get more friction that the water isn’t providing. He grips onto Shay, not wanting to ever let go. His body feels like it’s on fire and about to explode but there’s something stopping him. It just isn’t enough to push him over the top despite him being right on the edge. And it becomes frustrating as he bucks his hips up again.

Suddenly, Shay bites down hard into the nape of Haytham’s neck as the younger man comes. It’s almost like a shock of electricity strikes him as he finally tips over the edge. His orgasm rips through him as he comes into the water along side Shay. He doesn’t realize his vision had become spotted until he has to blink a couple of times to come back.

Haytham’s body goes placid as Shay hauls himself back up with hands on either side of the tub. A sly smile covers his face as he collects himself, his dark eyes flickering over Haytham’s face. The older man brings a hand up and cups Shay’s face. He runs a thumb over the crows feet now revealing themselves on the hunter’s face. Almost making the man look wiser for his years.  

The words leave Haytham’s mouth before he knows it, “I regret sending you away.”

Shay’s smile faulters a second time that night and he stares blankly at him now. Haytham swallows thickly as he brings his hand away from Shay’s face. He has always been known as a mood breaker.  

“I’m sorry,” the older whispers.

“You can’t go saying things like that, sir,” Shay almost hisses, but holds himself off. “I have a duty to the order.”

Haytham quickly corrects himself, licking his lips before speaking firmly but softly. “I didn’t mean it in such a crude way, Shay. I regret sending my best man away only because you are the only one I can truly trust in the Order. That is why I sent you away because I know you will come back with the box.”

Haytham cups Shay’s face with both of his hands this time. But brown eyes refuse to meet his own gaze.

“But that does not mean I miss you every day, and regret my decision even if it was for the good of man,” he finishes, needing these words to be said so that Shay knows.

Haytham blinks as a tear strikes his eye from above. The water might be spoiled and becoming cold, the fire dwindling to soft coals so the light in the office room is dependent on a singular lantern from the desk, but that all doesn’t stop Haytham from holding Shay close to him as the younger man’s body shudders under his touch. A strong ache squeezes at Haytham’s heart and throat at the realization that Shay will be off once again.

And oh, will he be missed dearly.

[ao3feed-assassinscreed]

When the Luck Runs Out

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2wePQW2

by MiniPeridot

Orla Hayes lives in the colonies during the time of AC: Rogue and meets Liam and Shay. Dad doesn't want her dating but finds he can't stop her. How does everyone handle her in the world of Assassin's and Templars and which boy will end up winning her heart in the end? Or, will neither of them and will they make very bad choices that cost them her love forever??

Words: 5207, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Orla Hayes (OC), Shay Cormac, Shay Patrick Cormac, Liam O'Brien, Haytham Kenway, Achilles Davenport, Louis-Joseph Gaultier Chevalier de la Vérendrye, Hope Jensen, Kesegowaase (Assassin's Creed), Le Chasseur (Assassin's Creed), Benjamin Franklin (Assassin's Creed), Other Templars from AC Rogue and AC 3, Ian Hayes (OC-Orla's dad), Róisín Hayes (OC-Orla's mom), Saoirse (OC-Pet Bird), Berach (OC-Horse)

Relationships: Shay Cormac/Reader, shay cormac/oc, Liam O'Brien/Reader, Liam O'Brien/OC

Additional Tags: Trying to write in Irish accent is haaaard!, i am trying, Love Triangle, Lies, Hurt, Angst, Both boys are cute, Saoirse is kind of a brat, overprotective dad, Boys get in trouble, I own only my OCs, Will provide pronounciations, Words are hard, smut???, we'll see, Dad does not let her date, lol, She does it anyway, Been sitting on this idea for a while, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unpopular Opinion: I don't care for Achilles, Stubborn old man, Kind of a tyrant, Louis-Joseph Gaultier Chevalier de la Vérendrye has a loooong name, He is also an ass, you cannot change my mind

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2wePQW2