#shay patrick cormac fic

[gococogo]

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

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

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

Thank you

Prompt 4 / Shaytham

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

Word Count: 2.4K

Warning: Violence. Blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, aye,” Shay mocks.

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

“That was foolish of you,” Haytham comments.

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

“Getting stabbed?” Shay asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To that, Shay’s grin only grows wider.

-

:)

[writingsofanobsessedwoman]

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

Ezio Auditore

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

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

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

Rose petals leading up to your room

Leonardo Da Vinci

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

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

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

Connor Kenway

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

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

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

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

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

Wouldn't let you do any work for the day

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

Edward Kenway

Would also wake you up with "exercise"

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

He may even let you steer the Jackdaw for a bit

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

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

James Kidd/Mary Read

They're a romantic through and through. And extravagant

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

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

Gifts would be thoughtful, plus some jewelry and the like

Shay Patrick Cormac

See morning "exercise"

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

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

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

Liam O'Brien

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

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

Would dance with you in a clearing somewhere

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

Haytham Kenway

Prepare to feel like royalty for a day

He'd spare no expense for your birthday

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

Don't think about lifting a finger, either

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

Jacob Frye

CHAOS from the moment your eyes opened

Tried to make you breakfast, set it on fire

Takes you around London

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

Would get Evie to help him with some flowers

You'd end up drunk, laughing, and happy

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

[imaginaryanon]

the final chapter of borealis, the shay/haytham wing!AU, is now up <3

[read from the beginning] [read the final chapter]

[carissimipaixao]

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

— healing spirits (shay cormac)

[emperor-palpaminty]

Storms

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

F!Reader, no use of y/n or “you”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shay? May I ask you something?”

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

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

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

“But I would like some answers.”

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

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

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

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

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

[marshmallow--3]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[niennavalier]

AC: Rogue - Second Chances

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

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

(Also posted on AO3)

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for now, perhaps that would be enough.

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

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

[angel-tries-to-write]

Sunrise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why did you come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They need to be stopped.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is. And I should go soon.”

“I wish you could stay for longer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I?”

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

“How dare you...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just want to run like that?”

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

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

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

[young-eagle-1725]

The Sins of The Father Chapter 12

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

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

🦅❤️

[heartoferebor]

Series: Assassin’s Creed:Rogue Characters: Shay Cormac, George Monro, short appearance by Christopher Gist Pairing: Cornro (Shay Cormac/George Monro) Rating: T Length: 4,070 words Summary: A quick summary of the times Shay and Monro shared, from the first terrible weeks after Monro has rescued him, to kisses found in the dark of night to grieving comfort of memory. Warnings: Alcoholism, Character death. Notes: I wrote this entire thing in basically a single setting today. Guess I’m finally back in fanficcing mode for real. HA. Also, @pluma-azurea, this if for you (and for the wonderful people on the Ass Creed aka Shay Cormac Appreciation Discord).

“Why do you care?” Shay asks him again, as if he hadn’t posed the same question earlier already. “What is it to you, whether I live or die?”

“Is it so hard to believe that people still care about you, Shay Cormac?” Monro draws himself up to his full height, a flame of real fury dancing in his eyes.It takes Shay until the next day to realise that it does, in fact, stem from worry.

“I did not bring you to the Finnegans to heal because I am a kind-hearted old man. I did not introduce you to our efforts to better the city and give you the means to regain your ship and fight the bandits out of pure sympathy. I did it because I saw something in you; a man worthy to be saved, a man of extraordinary talents who still has plenty of use in him if he could just see beyond his own self-pity.”

Read on AO3

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Characters/ Types of Request

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

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

Example.

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

From now on, things will work differently.

If you read this, thank you for your time.

Feel free to request according to the establish rules.

...

One Piece -

Pirates

Monkey D. Luffy

Portgas D. Ace

Zoro Roronoa

Sanji Vinsmoke

Trafalgar D. Law

Kid Eustass

Killer

Shanks

Katakuri Charlotte

Silvers Rayleigh

Gol D. Roger

Doflamingo Donquixote

Dracule Mihawk

Marco the Phoenix

Thatch

Izo

Benn Beckman

Sir Crocodile

Marines

Smoker

“Aokiji” Kuzan (ex-marine ver. too)

“Kizaru” Borsalino

“Akainu” Sakazuki

“Fujitora” Issho

Captain Koby

Rocinante Donquixote

Monkey D. Harp

Sengoku

World Government

Kaku

Rob Lucci

Other.

Kyoshiro / Denjiro

My Hero Academia -

Pro-Heroes/University Students

Katsuki Bakugou

Izuku Midoriya

Shouto Todoroki

Hitoshi Shinsou

Eijirou Kirishima

Denki Kaminari

Tenya Iida

Hanta Sero

Momo Yaoyorozu

Ochaco Uraraka

Fumikage Tokoyami

Mina Ashido

Mirio Togata

Tamaki Imajiki

Inasa Yoarashi

Eri (Parental)

Pro-Heroes/Professors

Shouta Aizawa / Eraserhead

Toshinori Yagi / All Might

Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic

Tsunagu Hakamata / Best Jeanist

Keigo Takami / Hawks

Enji Todoroki / Endeavor (Debatable)

Nemuri Kayama / Midnight

Taishiro Toyomitsu / Fat Gum

Gunhead

Sekijiro Kan / Vlad King

Shinji Nishiya / Kamui Woods

Villains

Kurogiri

Tomura Shigaraki

Touya Todoroki / Dabi

Chisaki Kai / Overhaul

Himiko Toga 

Haikyuu!! -

Karasuno

Kageyama

Hinata

Tsukishima

Nishinoya

Asahi

Tanaka

Daichi 

Suga

Keishin Ukai

Nekoma

Kuroo

Kenma

Aobajohsai

Iwaizumi

Oikawa

Date Tech High

Aone

Fukurodani 

Bokuto

Akaashi

Shiratorizawa

Ushijima

Tendou

Assassin’s Creed - 

Assassin’s

Ezio Auditore

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

Connor Kenway

Alexios

Jacob Frye 

Yusuf Tazim

Templar’s

Shay Patrick Cormac

Haytham Kenway

John Wick -

John Wick

Fire Force -

Company 1

Leonars Burns

Karim Flam

Rekka Hoshimiya

Huo Yan Li

Company 5

Hibana

Company 7

Benimaru Shinmon

Hikage (Parental)

Hinata (Parental)

Konro Sagamiya

Company 8

Akitaru Obi

Lisa Isaribi

Iris

Maki Oze

Takehisa Hinawa

Shinra Kusakabe

Tamaki Kotatsu

Viktor Licht

Vulcan Joseph

White-Clad

Sho Kusakabe (Parental)

Assault

Other.

Joker

Jujutsu Kaisen -

Yuji Itadori

Megumi Fushiguro

Nobara Kugisaki

Gojo Satoru

Toge Inumaki

Levi Ackermann

Maki Zenin

Sukuna

Aoi Todo

Kento Nanami

Suguru Getou

Toji Fushiguro

Imagines - (Open)

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

Oneshots - (Closed)

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

Drabbles - (Closed)

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

Headcanons - (Open)

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

[gococogo]

Day One: Voyeurism

2023 Kinktober Masterlist after October

Synopsis: Shay is back in Boston after finding that bloody box. But Haytham has to attend a high party on the first night the Irishman is back. And out of curiosity, Shay wants to go.

One thing he forgets though is that, Shay can be quite jealous at time.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: Artwork is not mine! It is done by the amazing @pandaaaaaaaaxd and this great artwork inspired me to create this master piece of a fic! So, please enjoy the first day of Kinktober.

Warnings: Voyeurism/Nsfw/Smut/Blowjob/Anal/Jealously/Possessiveness/Biting/Hand job/Man handling/Top!Shay/Bottom!Haytham

Seeing Shay again after so long was almost like seeing a completely different person in his place. Yes, don’t get Haytham wrong, Shay still has his wits and commentary, but his charm has become something more dangerous that his aged features now hold. The grey that now streaks his dark hair is a subtle reminder that none of them will stay young forever. The image that Haytham has had in his head of Shay for nearly two decades now is of this young man who had to grow up too fast. 

But now, the man that joins Haytham to a high party holds himself squared and tall. He wears a blue and brown formal attire, something different to what he arrived in Boston in but similar. Fancier if Haytham has to put it.

But he had forgotten just how the man allured him in the first place. Sitting across from him in the horse carriage is something of a familiarity but also a strange coming. Conversation has been hard to strike up. Only because Haytham isn’t sure where they stand right now. 

Yes, Haytham could just simply ask. But he won’t. It’s not in his nature to do so. 

“So, you escaped France unharmed?” Haytham asks, continuing on with what Shay has just told him. 

The other nods his head softly. “Nobody knew I was there. Since I didn’t come in contact with the French Templars while I was visiting, they wouldn’t be able to give anything up to the Assassins there to track me here.”

Haytham turns his head downwards to try and hide his smile and says, “You’ve done well, Shay.”

Shay sees the smile all the same though. Even years apart, Haytham still has the same mannerisms as when they first met.

“Thank you, sir,” he replies back. 

-

The horse carriage finally comes to a stop outside the manor on the other side of Boston. The both of them could have well walked from where Haytham lives, but the Grandmaster didn’t want to arrive so, mundanely. 

Shay opens the door for Haytham, holding a hand for him once outside. Haytham takes it gingerly as he steps out of the carriage, looking up at the manor ahead. He has only been here once before but that was so long ago. But that was after Shay had left, so the other has not set foot here nor met the host of this party. 

“Why is the party being held?” Shay asks as he clasps his hands behind his back. 

He looks up at the manor, but it isn’t with awe. Somewhere along his journey, he has seen bigger and better. Maybe Haytham will ask where that is later on. 

“I do not know exactly. But Mr Shaw wanted me here,” Haytham replies. 

As if coming out of a daze, Shay returns his attention back to Haytham with a smile. He bows slightly with an outstretched hand. 

“After you then,” he inquires. 

Haytham softly rolls his eyes as he walks forward. The both of them travel side by side up to the front door where the sound of chatter inside becomes louder and louder. Two men stand outside, security by Haytham’s guess. They know Haytham by first glance but they look Shay over with uncertainty. 

The younger one places a hand on Shay’s chest, stopping him. The taller man looks down at the hand that is quickly retracted before flicking his eyes up to the younger. Something almost predator. 

“He’s with me,” Haytham simply says. 

The older steps forward, pushing the younger away with a frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kenway. Please head inside and enjoy tonight,” he apologizes. 

The door is opened for them by the idiotic younger man and Haytham steps inside without a thank you or another word. Shay doesn’t even offer a word of acknowledgement either. Yet, as soon as the door closes behind the hunter he can’t help but chuckle to himself. 

“Looked like he was ‘bout to soil himself?” Shay smiles toothily. 

The butler comes up to them and holds out his hands for their coats. Shay shimmies his off, leaving him in just a pale blue vest and a frilled white dress shirt that Haytham has to not stare at. 

“It was amusing,” Haytham agrees as he declines with his own coat. 

He doesn’t want to spend too long here. In all honesty, he wanted to spend tonight at home talking to Shay about his time away and catch up in other manners. He had forgotten about the event until Mr. Shaw’s personal butler had come around and asked if he was still coming. Shay had insisted, wanting to see what Haytham had been up to in these years. 

So, one could say they’re here because the curiosity got to Shay. And he doesn’t seem to hide it these days. Everything that grabs his interest or is new, he wants to know more. Maybe that’s just him realizing in his young age that he’s getting too old to let things pass these days. Or maybe he’s been hunting for that damn box for too long. 

That thought brings a pit of something into Haytham’s gut as the butler directs them to where everyone is. The gathering is out the back of the mansion where the garden is. It’s busy and there are more people here than he expected. He stops mid walk on the back porch, before the stairs that lead down to the garden and grazes the area. He can’t spot the host and that alone bugs him. 

There’s a big patio in the middle of the garden where a band plays some soft music that try and lighten the mood. The garden goes further out down a path way to the right and Haytham does not want to start a search to look for the host. The last thing he wants to be doing tonight. 

“Sir?” Shay asks suddenly. 

Haytham realizes he’s been spacing out and looks down to Shay at the bottom of the stairs. He holds out a hand to him with a slightly cocked brow. Haytham, is very charmed by this. But Shay is forgetting himself here. He’s being a little too comfortable. 

He walks right past Shay, ignoring the hand. 

Haytham does notice it takes a while for Shay to come by his side again. The frown on his features doesn’t go unnoticed from the corner of Haytham’s eye. 

“I forgot to ask who’s the host,” Shay picks up conversation. 

“Mr Leviticus Shaw. He’s not one of us but he does help our course and knows who we are,” Haytham explains. 

“Interesting fellow?” 

“Not the slightest. A proper British man. Cocky and egotistical” Haytham scowls as he stops in the middle of a path way. 

They haven’t even left the main part of the garden and he’s still not seeing anyone he knows. There’s butler’s moving out with trays of food and drinks and none of them have come over to see him. He needs a drink or something, or anything to get through tonight. 

“Sir, it sounds like you’re calling the kettle black there?” Shay asks but with a little too much grunt in it for Haytham’s liking. 

He looks to the Irishman out of the corner of his eye with furrowed brows. Shay looks away as if he didn’t make the comment. A butler comes around with champagne and Shay takes two glasses off smoothly. He offers one to Haytham with a sly smile, trying to win him back a little too quickly.  

Haytham takes it though, sniffing it before downing it in one go. He returns the glass to Shay all while the other gently sips out of his own. 

Finally, Leviticus Shaw comes into view and Haytham rushes forward. Maybe he can say his hellos and be on his way. He’s with two other men he doesn’t know but Haytham doesn’t care. Shaw is in sight. 

Shaw sees him first and his expression widens. “Mr Kenway! It is good to know you have come!” He exclaims as he shakes the others hand. 

Leviticus Shaw is a tall stocky man with an ego to match. He isn’t much to look that but it’s his wealth and contacts that has him in best interest with the Templars. And Shaw knows that and likes to twirl Haytham around his fingers. Which Haytham does not like. 

“I thought I’d come to say hello and be on my way,” Haytham starts and goes to continue his sentence but Shaw cuts him off. 

“Oh! Do you have somewhere else to be?” Shaw asks with a frown. “Tonight is meant to be something for my son. Have you met, William?”

Haytham shakes his head as he says, “No, I haven’t had the pleasure too.”

“Oh you best meet him!” 

Shaw excuses himself from the other two men he’s with and begins walking with Haytham with a hand on his shoulder. 

“He’s celebrating buying the horse track down in Boston. We should go there sometime,” Shaw says with a smile on his face. 

But it’s not something that meets his eyes. The pride he shows for his son isn’t real. All to do with the family name that follows him that he has to be proud of. 

“I might not be able to go. I have other matters on my hand, Shaw,” Haytham objects kindly. 

Shaw stops dead, the hand on his shoulder travelling down to Haytham’s waist. The touch doesn’t go unnoticed and Haytham takes a small step back out of Shaw’s touch. 

“That Templar business getting in the way?” Shaw asks in a hushed tone. 

“No,” Haytham simply says. “As I said, I’m only staying here for a simple hello, Shaw.”

Haytham takes a quick look behind him at Shay, who in return is staring right back at him. Two dark eyes over the top of his champagne glass that feel like ice on his shoulders. He turns his attention back to Shaw who is looking over Haytham’s shoulder. 

“I need to be off,” he inquires. 

“My son will be disappointed if you don’t meet him,” Shaw argues back with a smile. 

Unfortunately, Haytham can’t decline in worries of breaking their current alliance with the man. He follows Shaw to meet his son, William and it’s quick and simple.

 But shortly, other woman and men come up to Haytham that he has never met before but they seem to know a lot about him. They touch and laugh with Haytham and touch. May it be hand on the shoulder or arm, or a hand on his back that will move down to just above his hip before it starts to be too noticeable. 

Flirting isn’t something that Haytham is good at. Never has been and doesn’t seem to want to learn any time soon. He wishes he listened closely to his teachers when he was young at being a gentlemen. Allowing one to be charming and endearing at the same time. Haytham would say he is charming, but others would say he’s just stoic and looking for his next meal. 

But for some reason Shaw’s mother-in-law has taken an interest in Haytham tonight. She hugs his arm closely and she has a grip that says she isn’t letting go any time soon. He has forgotten her name even though she introduced herself twice just before. 

“I have a young daughter I would like you to meet, Mr Kenway,” she begins again as Haytham tries to escape. 

For the first time tonight, true fear settles in. 

Just as Haytham thinks he’s going to die here and now, Shay appears before him. The mother-in-law looks him up and down and loosens her grip on the Grandmaster. Obviously, she has seen something more worth while than himself. At this given moment, Shay’s charm is a blessing. 

“Hellooo, and who may you be?” She asks with a wrinkled smile. 

Shay returns with a charismatic grin. “Mr. Cormac, ma’am.”

The mother-in-law lets go of Haytham finally and holds out her hand, in which Shay takes and kisses the back of. 

“What a sweetheart, you know this one Mr. Kenway?” She asks, not taking her eyes off of her new piece of meat. 

“Yes, I do,” Haytham answers as he keeps his distance from her. 

He doesn’t want to be in her grasp for a second longer. 

“And you didn’t introduce me to him? What a crime, Mr Kenway!” She exclaims. 

Shay cuts in though, saving the night, “I do apologize for our short meeting, ma’am, but I have to take Mr. Kenway here off your hands,” he queries. “I need to speak to him in private.”

There must be something about the way Shay talks, or the way he looks at her that has her immediately handing over Haytham.  

“Oh, I’ll let you two men talk then. I’ll come back for you, Mr. Cormac,” she says before wandering off for her next victim. 

“Good night,” Haytham says his goodbyes before turning his attention to Shay. 

And the charm that Shay had, well, Haytham quickly realizes what is it with the slight sway as he stands. Shay steps forward and hooks his arm in Haytham’s. He smells of wine, but he isn’t drunk. Maybe tipsy, but Haytham knows that he isn’t easy to get drunk.

Shay suddenly leans in Haytham’s ear and mumbles, “The drinks are cheap here and I want my coat.”

“Why I beg ask?” 

“It’s getting chilly.” He mopes. 

That is something of a lie because the man is radiating heat like a fire beside Haytham. Shay leads them back across the garden to the manor with a tight grip on his arm, almost worse than that mother-in-law. 

Once inside the manor, Shay doesn’t head to the front door. There are no visitors inside, only a couple of butlers. Shay stops in his tracks and looks around, thoughts running a mile behind those eyes. 

“What are you up to, Shay?” Haytham finally asks. 

He doesn’t pull from the man’s grip but waits for an answer. Shay looks down his nose at him in return. 

“I’ve been watching you the entire night, Haytham,” he answers lowly. 

“Oh?” 

Shay suddenly moves, walking Haytham down a hallway with no butlers. Then, with no warning Haytham is being pushed up against the wall closest to him with no escape. He goes along with it though, his eyes never leaving Shay once as he towers over him. 

“You leave me alone all night so I have to watch from a far as people put their hands all over you,” Shay mumbles deeply in Haytham’s ear. 

“You’re the one that insisted we come,” he points out. 

One of Shay’s hands swivels around the small of Haytham’s waist while the other comes up and cups his face. This sort of touch is so much more welcome to all the other people tonight. The people that may well get their hands on him tonight did it because they could, not because they wanted to. This, this is a want on the verge of desperation. 

“I have realized that I don’t fancy these types of parties,” Shay answers a little sadly that has Haytham grinning. 

Oh, what a jealous man Shay can be.  

With a hand loosening salt and pepper hair, Haytham brings Shay down for a kiss. The kiss is meant to be soft and passionate but it quickly becomes desperate from both sides. Slender fingers slowly undo Haytham’s coat buttons one by one. All so that Shay can hold his waist steady against the wall. 

Almost as the thought comes through Haytham’s mind, footsteps come into ear shot. Haytham’s blood runs cold, his heart jumping into his throat, and he pushes Shay off all together. Even if the butler’s don’t see them doing ungodly things, people aren’t dumb when they see dishevelled hair and half undone clothes. 

Haytham tries to make himself presentable again, not wanting any sort of rumour to get out about him. Because one thing he knows is that butlers and maids talk. 

But Shay has other plans. He grabs Haytham’s little red ribbon that stays around his neck and pulls him forward into the nearest room. Literally the closest door across the hallway that luckily wasn’t locked. 

A hand on Haytham’s chest keeps him against the wall next to the door all while Shay peeps out of it. Watching as the two employee’s of Shaw walk past, their voices fading away. 

“You’re lucky,” Haytham hushes. 

The shit eating grin that Shay sends his way is enough to make Haytham want to hit him. Shay leaves the door open a crack before returning to Haytham. They haven’t even gone any further into this office room, still standing right next to the door. A small dresser digs into the left side of Haytham’s hip. 

“Close the door, Shay,” Haytham snaps firmly. 

The other shakes his head as he comes face to face with his Grandmaster again. “Someone needs to keep an eye out,” is all he says before capturing Haytham in another kiss. 

When Shay had arrived back, there had only been time to talk and report and speak about their lives away. There had been no time for this. Haytham was hoping to allure Shay when they were home again. As much as this has Haytham’s heart beating loudly in his chest and throat and a thrill rushing over his skin, the anticipation of waiting for someone to open that door fully for someone to walk in on them is deafening. Which, only has him wanting to continue on. See how far they can get before someone notices something is up.  

The hand on his chest travels down to Haytham’s crotch, cupping and kneading. Haytham’s hands come to the small of Shay’s waist, a small gasp leaving his mouth as he pulls away slightly from their kiss. Shay’s mouth comes to his neck and a buzz runs down Haytham’s spine that goes straight to his dick. 

Shay’s hand leaves his crotch, for the moment all so that he can relieve Haytham of his coat. It drops heavily at his feet and for a second Haytham thinks someone would have heard. But Shay continues mouthing at his neck and palming his dick through his pants that the worry is quickly forgotten. 

The sound that escapes Haytham as teeth sink down into the soft part of his neck is choked off at the sudden realization that someone can hear him. Haytham waits for someone to come barging in, shouting and gasping at the sight of the Grandmaster Templar of the Colonial Rite. He tries to control his breathing but it is very hard when Shay is all over his body and knows what makes Haytham groan. Even after being years part, Shay hasn’t forgotten. 

But when no one comes, Haytham can’t help but release a short chortle. In return, Shay chuckles deeply against his skin. 

“Worried, Haytham?” Shay asks as he meets his gaze. 

Haytham scoffs. “You play a dangerous game,” he answers lowly. 

Shay grins again as he moves down his body, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach. All until Shay is on his knees in front of Haytham with his hands wrapped around his hips. A breathy exhale comes from Haytham’s parted mouth at such a sight. 

It makes him wonder how he got probably one of the most dangerous Templars in America to be so loyal to him. To devote himself to Haytham. To be allured by Haytham that he is deprived when he is not around. How did Shay last so many years away when right now it seems he can’t go a second without touching him. 

Shay begins to undo his belt and pants with nimble fingers. At this point Haytham can’t get his breathing under control or quiet enough to his liking. A choked groan escapes his throat as his cock is exposed to Shay’s hot breath, his pants pulled down just enough so free himself. His touch has Haytham’s legs shaking and by God has he missed the other. He holds onto the wall for support as he watches the head of his dick disappear around Shay’s already rosy lips. 

He tries to buck his hips forward but Haytham quickly realizes that Shay’s mission is to keep him pinned to the wall. His thumbs dig into his hips, holding him in place as he works his mouth around Haytham. Sucking and swallowing down more and more into his hot mouth until his nose is buried into greying pubes. Then he pops off the end of Haytham’s dick all to come back and mouth the head while making eye contact with him before repeating the process. The look alone has Haytham’s knees shaking, and if Shay wasn’t holding onto his so tightly, then he knows for a fact he would be on falling to the ground. His body his buzzing and Haytham can’t help the small pants that escape his mouth. 

A hand comes to Shay’s hair, gripping tightly but Haytham doesn’t dare push him down onto his cock. Even though the tightness in his gut is getting unforgiveable and his knees feel like buckling under him, he controls himself. 

But as much as Haytham wants to continue he pulls Shay off of him quickly by his hair at the sound of more footsteps. Shay looks up at him past hooded eyes, his mouth agape with saliva dribbling down his chin. He’s such a pretty sight but all Haytham can think about is the person outside. Haytham watches the light coming through the gap in the door flicker as someone passes by. They’re in a hurry and they pass by quickly without a concern for any noises going on his the mansion. 

Shay stands to his feet while wiping his mouth and pulls Haytham forward by his collar for a kiss. The muskiness that Haytham can taste is himself but it’s almost intoxicating. Haytham gets lost in the kiss, forgetting where he is until Shay pulls away. 

“I have missed you dearly, Haytham,” Shay breathes out. 

Haytham licks his lips and swallows. He honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. But Shay doesn’t want an answer, he doesn’t need one to know what Haytham is thinking. That Haytham has yearned for him over these passing years. And he couldn’t answer if he wanted to because Shay presses his fingers to Haytham’s mouth before pushing two digits in. 

“Make them nice and wet for me,” Shay whispers lowly. 

As much as Haytham wants to bite down on the fingers in his mouth purely out of spite, he’s too caught up in the moment. He licks and sucks at the fingers in his mouth, making sure to lather them up as much as he can with his own spit. Shay pushes in a little further, watching Haytham with dark eyes as if waiting for a reaction. And he gets one, going a little too far and triggering his gag reflex. Haytham chokes lightly and grabs Shay’s wrist with a deadly grip. 

Shay pulls his fingers out with a trail of saliva connecting them to Haytham’s lips. “Apologies,” he smirks. 

But he should be apologizing again as he flips Haytham around so that his face is against the wall. Shay shuffles his pants down a little further so that is ass is on display. 

“Can’t we further this when we get home?” Haytham asks as he moves so his forehead is resting against the wall. 

He doesn’t move though, or push Shay away as the man leans into his ear as he whispers, “I can’t wait the long ride back. Not with what you’ve done to me tonight.” His slicked fingers press against Haytham’s hole, hesitating. “I also have plans when we get home, but these aren’t it. You just had to go and be the charming man you are with everyone around you. Making me jealous and bothered.”

Haytham’s reply gets caught in his throat as a finger is pushed into him. He gasps out but a hand is quickly slapped over his mouth with his face angled upwards. He tries to look at Shay but all he can see is the fucking gap in the door and a sliver of the hallway. He breathes heavily through his nose as Shay works him open, entering another finger with the first. 

“Have you let anyone here touch you like I have?” Shay asks another question in his ear, his voice like gravel. 

Haytham gives a small shake of his head as all he can do is grip the wall in front of him. His dick rubs against the wall and is the only sense of friction he’s going to give himself. Otherwise he’s going to be done before Shay gets started. And he doesn’t want to ruin that for the man. But the dark chuckle that comes from Shay might be enough. 

When Shay is content with his work, Haytham feels a little empty, a little exposed when his fingers leave him. But it’s soon replaced with the head of Shay’s cock. He pushes in slowly and it’s painful at first, leaving Haytham to groan and huff behind Shay’s hand. But Shay waits a moment, waiting for Haytham to relax before moving again. He may be desperate, but he isn’t a monster. 

Shay holds onto Haytham as he fucks him with an even pace, slowly pushing in further inch by inch. He pants in Haytham’s ear, grunting every so often and the noises go straight to his cock. 

As much as he wants to hold on, it’s Shay’s hand slithering around his waist to his cock that unravels him. He comes hard and if Shay wasn’t holding him up, he’d have fallen to the ground. His vision goes spotty and he holds onto the wall for support. 

Shay rides himself through Haytham’s orgasm, becoming more and more noisy as he chases his own high. He uncovers Haytham’s mouth and both hands come and hold his waist, bring Haytham back to meet his cock as he thrusts forward. 

It starts to become a bit much for Haytham as he comes down from his high. He grinds his teeth as everything begins to become a little too sensitive. Luckily though, Shay comes forward and grabs his chest from behind as he buries in dick into Haytham and comes in his ass. His whole body shakes as he holds Haytham in place, his hips rutting as he goes through his own orgasm. Looks like Shay was trying to hold out as long as he could as well but failed. 

The two stay still for just a moment as Haytham lets Shay collect himself. The party can still be heard going on outside and Haytham quickly realizes where they are again. As Shay slips out of him, Haytham turns his head to looks out the door slowly. 

The air in his lungs get caught as he meets a pair of prying eyes. As soon as Haytham spots them, they’re already darting off. Maybe, Haytham should have protested a little more about having the door open.           

[writingsofanobsessedwoman]

A Love of Steel: Shay Cormac

*contains a mention of suicide and depression*

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

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

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

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

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

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAY PATRICK CORMAC!!!!

[gwen-the-assassin]

Check out my Fic!

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

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

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

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

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

[specializedvideotechnologyinc]

Hope and Blood

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

Pairing: Shay Cormac x reader

Warning: none

Words: 306

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[vigilante7657]

Honeymoon Pleasure

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

There is Lemon, for once....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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