𓇻 ft. shay cormac x assassin recruit gn reader
𓇻 warnings! minor spoilers for AC Rogue. alcohol consumption + minor injury.
𓇻 au. reader is Hope and Liam's newest addition to the Brotherhood. Unfortunately, you've just learned about Shay's involvement... long after you've already met him.
𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!
read on ao3! - masterlist - join the taglist!
It's a voice you recognize, even through the thick of the fog. With bottle of brandy in hand, opening to your bottom lip, you've managed to cool the swell of your ego better than you have your bruise. Tongue darts out, pushing at your upper lip.
His glove rests to your cheekbone, index finger trailing softly over tender skin. Never tender enough because you flinch instinctively, expression pulling tighter. Guarded was never a flattering expression on Shay and it certainly wasn't now. Nose wrinkling, you incline your head away, the cold now freshly stinging.
Even though it's been a few hours, the tenderness hasn't gone down, still bitter and sitting coloured beneath the flush of your skin. At least you've managed the swelling some.
The ghost of Shay's fingers on your skin lingers. You turn away, nursing the bottle with another sip. With a low, wanting creak of wood, the saloon's deck groans beneath Shay's weight as he shifts, back turned towards the banister, eyes always on you. Elbows resting over the rails, fresh snow lines the roots of his dark hair, skin still unbothered by the cold. So he's the one you heard step out after you.
"Did Hope give it to ye?" He asked, voice low and careful, eyes still impossibly dark, even when the warm tavern light dances over his features. Your mouth twists, sour line worrying into the skin.
"Liam."
"Ah." Then, "Well, he's always been a right git anyhow."
Looking at him like this, an air of familiarity drifting between you two, it almost tempers the sorrow and grief that still echoes in your bones. The insisting song of rage and injustice. Your fingers curl tighter around the bottle- and you see it too. How Shay's eyes don't even dart away but a barely perceptible twitch. Always watching each movement. A biting scoff rises in your throat before you can stop it.
For everything that Hope and Liam had trained you for, for all the burdens you bore, memories and lessons drilled into your head- this was not how you thought it would go.
Because every scary story told to you, every drill and hasty explanation- it was all because of him. Every bruise and aching joint- every nasty remark and lessons forced well past their dues. Even Achilles, as senile as he seemed, remarked upon the force the Brotherhood trained you.
All to avenge ghosts of Assassins you didn't know, never had a chance to know. All for a Brotherhood that had been tarnished before you joined.
You were meant to replace Shay, you realize that now. A bitter truth that had come to a head earlier that night, when Liam saw how you held your blades. Accosted you for it, demanding where you learned it from. 'From Shay', you had wanted to say, because it had been the truth. Then the rest of it followed, with Hope pleading with you to leave for the night while everyone cooled down. While they cooled down.
Looking back, you should have known better than to accept some strange man's friendly banters in taverns. Known better than to walk his boat, learning its knots better than you learned your knives.
It makes sense. Shay befriended you to sniff out the Assassin's plans. It made sense. Just as it made sense that Liam tried building you into a better tool, trying to outpace the losses that the Brotherhood had suffered.
'It's not fair.'
You think how his hands felt on your sides, careful in his guidance. Teaching you with a far greater patience than Liam had, with far kinder methods than Hope's. You had learned better under Shay- and somehow, that made it all worse, stinging more than the betrayal did.
"I hate you," you tell him. Shay tilts his head, little more than an acknowledgement. Eyes studying you, judging your reaction. Fog puffs in front of his face with his slow exhale. The wind blows it back, dusting across dark eyes before disappearing into the night.
"I know."
Still, even though you know, even though he knows, neither of you move. It's just the slow tilt of the bottle against your lips, burning motion of liquor down your throat. Cold seeping through your clothes, always too thin, never durable enough for the winter. Something that Shay had tried to correct you on but Kesegowaase didn't care for. Always too busy for your innate questions.
You want to hate Shay for everything. Pin it all on him. It'd be the easiest way. Give in to what your mentors had been trying to drill into your head: enemy, enemy, enemy.
Glass presses to your lips again. Shay's fingers ghost over yours, leather pressing light to exposed fingers. A grip that remains solid - but not insistent... and with the patience of a man that wouldn't exist in the Shay that the Brotherhood knew.
But he lets you take another drink anyway. You weren't a lightweight. Shay had made sure of that.
"Are you going to kill me?" You decide on saying when the fire has tempered in your throat. All that's left is the chill in your eyes, the nip of frost and frozen winds on your cheeks.
His fingers remain on the bottle and with a light tug, you concede, letting him bring it to his own lips. Cleanshaven, unlike the scruffy remnants that you had been sworn to. In all the ways that matter, he's unlike the man you've been told about. But you can see where the threat lies, the careful way he tilts his shoulders, languid but prepared. That part of the stories are true.
"Only if our blades cross," Shay responds, swallow audible, eyes dark as he peers at you over the neck of the bottle. He passes it to you, fingers brushing over yours.
Fingers connect. You try not to memorize how they feel.
"They'll order me to kill you," you decide to say.
Shay blinks, then blinks again when the snow lingers on his lashes. "Aye. And I won't let you." You scoff bitterly against the bottle. You both have roles to play. You just wish yours wasn't this.
You turn your eyes away, skimming over the balcony, out into the rolling hills of snow. More powder falls from the sky, dusting across your shoulders, frozen kisses upon cold-flushed skin. It'd be easy, you know, for Shay to just reach over and slide his blade into your neck. Nobody would hear you. Even with gold light dusting over the white expanse ahead, there's still dark shadows. You're both still isolated.
The music in the other room sounds so far away.
He doesn't move and you get to take another drink.
You think, then, that this isn't all there is. That there's more to the man that you were told about. That words uttered with hate or hellfire don't amount to the hours you've spent by his side, listening to some bawdy tale that Gist told him.
Then, in the same breath, you think: he doesn't have to kill me and I don't have to kill him.
Then, in another: what if there was another way?
Because for all the assassins are, good teachers aren't one of them. That you still swore to protect the innocent and your blade hasn't known flesh. In all these moments, caught between the Homestead and someone you had thought you had known, there exists things that you don't know. Impossibly, that there might be kindness beyond this rage and suffering that everyone has been dealt.
Again, in your mind's eye, you feel the shadow of Shay's gloves on your arms and waist, correcting your stance. Think of Achilles' words, heated and grave. Of Hope's flattering gait as she leads you through her warehouse.
"Shay, what-" You turn, throat tight, shadows and aches lingering in your mind still. There's nothing there, the impressions of his boots filling with the drifting of snow. Only gloves left on the railing, cuffs rimmed with fur. Still warm, even as you press chapped and shaking fingers inside, leather cushioning your palms. Because this is who Shay is, always watching out for you.
The next sip of the bottle goes down tasteless, no longer satisfying. The despair doesn't run as hot in your blood anymore, though the sense of betrayal lingers. Except now you wonder, just who exactly you feel betrayed by.
Can I ask for 'mistletoe' or 'surprise' with Shay Cormac for your Christmas Inbox?
─ SURPRISE
published on: february 19, 2023
requested by: anon
pairing: shay cormac & reader
word count: 1.1k+
note: submitted during the christmas inbox!
additional note: i decided to follow along with @sunsetagain's "timeline", in her amazing comic "a ship without a rudder", which i had the pleasure to translate for years ago, where shay arrives in lisbon the day prior to the earthquake. i definitely suggest you check out her content, be it for assassin's creed or even detroit: become human, because, oh my goodness isn't she the most talented person i know 😭🥰
The last few years have been nothing but work, work, work and work. You hardly have time for distractions, nor do you allow yourself the luxury of having a break. You are not the highest-ranking Assassin in the Brotherhood, but your Mentor has always entrusted you to solve the most challenging mysteries. Your family has long been part of the Brotherhood and, along with your skills, you assume you earn that trust.
Lisbon has always been the untangling cobweb for the Templars, and, no matter how hard the Brotherhood pushes forward and undoes their business, someone comes from the shadows and destroys everything you have done. Yet, when His Magnanimous Majesty passed, your Mentor and other Master Assassins from the various corners of the city, as well as the countryside, believed that having his son on the throne might provide an opportunity to fight back.
But, just as before, something twisted all of your plans. In a matter of days, a new threat loomed on the horizon.
You are sitting on top of the rooftops, looking down at the city — as both commoners and nobles walk on the streets — when you hear the tiles move behind you. You turn swiftly, hand in your precious dagger. It is no one other than one of your friends, and you relax immediately, heaving a long sigh. ‘Haven’t I told you not to creep up behind me like that?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ the Assassin snickers, raising his hands. ‘But the Mentor has called for you. He said there is someone here who you might want to see.’ He gestures for you to follow him, and you do, almost reluctantly. You are not sure whoever it is that you would like to meet, considering everyone you have ever cared for lives within the city. But, perhaps you have nothing else in mind except getting rid of the Minister’s iron fist and liberating Lisbon.
It does shock you, however, when you enter the den and faintly recognize the face of the stranger in the middle of the hall, who has turned to stare at you. There is a glimpse of caution and, dare you say, betrayal in those eyes, but you cannot tell why. Your friend looks between the two of you curiously and disappears back onto the rooftops. The Mentor puts a hand on the stranger’s shoulder, smiling.
‘The Colonial Brotherhood has sent one of their Assassins to accomplish a mission here,’ he tells you, speaking in English for the sake of the stranger. ‘But, I’m still surprised to know that you are one of us now!’ He glances at the man, looking at him up and down.
‘Mentor,’ you begin, ‘who is he?’
His eyes glint in mischief. ‘I believe you knew this young man a long time ago. Anyway, this is Shay.’
You freeze, remembering younger days when you used to chase around a sailor’s son in the docks and downtown. You didn’t speak his language at the time and he couldn’t speak yours, either. Instead, if there is something that unites all children and remains a global idiom, it is mischief. You were very lonely back then, with your parents working nonstop for the Brotherhood. Besides, it’s not like you were part of a higher society and had a maid looking after you at home.
‘Shay Cormac,’ the man finishes for your Mentor, his face now morphing into a wide smile. ‘Nice to meet you, lass.’
‘I don’t—... you’re an Assassin,’ you shake your head. Trying to ignore the unsubtle way your Mentor is walking away, you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. ‘I don’t remember you being one.’ You raise a hand, almost asking for permission for a second chance, to reform your words. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this right now. You want to see the city first, for your mission, right?’
Shay chuckles. ‘I see not much has changed.’ It sounds like it was just a note for himself. ‘No need, lass, I know where I need to go. It’s not too far from here, anyway.’ He walks up to you and, in that short distance, you take the chance to look over his face. Indeed, not much has changed; you can still recognize that devious gaze and that mischievous grin. He easily towers over you, which is amusing, considering it used to be the other way around when you two were mere children. ‘You sound like my friends back home, too. All serious.’
‘Things are difficult here,’ you murmur.
‘So I hear.’ He looks at you up and down, and you try not to do so much as a twitch. You have never liked being the center of attention. ‘I’ve been tasked by my own Mentor to get an artifact from the Carmo Convent, but I will follow through with the mission tomorrow. I’ve just arrived from a very long trip.’
You nod. The workaholic — and extremely stressed out — side of you wants to complain; a good Assassin continues through with their work, no matter what, but you don’t know for just how long he was at sea. Besides, something tells you that he is somewhat new in the Assassin Brotherhood. ‘I understand,’ you say. ‘Let me show you to the chambers. You can rest here for the night, unless you have anywhere else to stay.’
‘Much obliged,’ the Irishman grins. ‘Perhaps you will accompany me, and tell me what you have been up to since the last time we met.’
As you begin to lead the way to the chambers within the den, you snort. You are very quick to dodge intimacy or anything that may stray you from your path. You have placed your work in front of everything else, really. It has been an inside joke amongst your friends that, indeed, you would become like those grumpy old ladies that want nothing from gentlemen callers or from anyone that might cross their sight, preferring solitude, peace and quiet. You can now tell that being flirtatious is also a new trait to Shay, but it still aligns with the playful nature that you know to be uniquely his.
‘Perhaps tomorrow, after your mission?’ You suggest, however. Even though you want nothing from Shay — at least, you know you don’t seek what he had implied —, you cannot help the curiosity. It has been years, and you would not mind reconnecting with someone you used to consider your friend. Besides, if he is a fellow Assassin, you might be able to gain insight into the American colonies from him. You shake off the slight shame that has creeped into your bones.
As you hold the door open for him, you turn. Shay appears to be thinking about your offer. After a beat of silence, he sighs. ‘Well, if you say so. Even if I do reckon you should have a break, I understand if you have things to get back to.’ He gives you a wink as he passes, holding the door instead — and you ignore how your hands briefly brushed against one another, the spark that rushes up your arm. ‘Let us meet tomorrow, then, after my mission.’
For the Christmas prompts- could please I get protection with Shay Cormac? Happy holidays!! Thank youuu!!
─ PROTECTION
published on: january 25, 2023
requested by: @littlemisscare-all
pairing: shay cormac & reader
word count: 800+
note: submitted during the christmas inbox!
Since the very first moment that you met Shay Cormac, your life changed.
You often assisted the Finnegans’ — your neighbors — and it was during one of those days that their son’s boss and his men dragged a body inside, which you initially thought to be more dead than alive, upon spotting the blood and ugly bruise on the stranger’s head, along with a long cut from his forehead to below his right eye.
From then on, the list of tasks and chores that you did around the house grew ever so slightly to accommodate the stranger, to help him heal and get better as soon as possible — as it was requested by the Colonel. You did not know why he brought a wounded sailor or soldier to the house of two average citizens with little to no connection to the Royal Navy or His Majesty King George II, and you did find it confusing and odd.
When the house was attacked by a bunch of gang members, pushing Barry onto the floor, breaking the dishes and terrifying Cassidy. Even when they were chased away, after receiving a beating from your wounded patient, the threats that they left behind crawled inside your head and burned fear into your heart. Cassidy believed that it would be the safest if you were to remain with them, but you thought otherwise. You had never considered yourself to be the bravest soul, and thus, you ran from the danger.
But, you could never kill the paranoia and the dread. Everywhere you went, it seemed like the eyes of the gangs in New York followed your every move, watched you as you slept. Little by little, you thought yourself to be going insane.
Then, it happened — proving your suspicions.
On a nightly walk to your house, after handing Cassidy the groceries that the elderly couple needed inside their home for the following morning, you were stopped by a familiar face, whose nose had been crooked and broken since that fateful day. The man gave you a nasty grin, lips curled up like a wolf, and, pulled by your wrist by a strong grip, the man took you towards the docks. I hope you like swimming, miss, he had told you. Because that’s the last thing you’ll do.
A gag around your mouth and wrists bound together, you found yourself inside a ship — the name Serenity engraved on the back — and tossed inside a storage room. You heard the whispers and laughter as you walked on board, as those men cloaked in yellow and white spoke of your doom. She’s such a pretty thing. It’ll be a shame to toss her into the sea!
Hours have passed since the ship left the docks of New York. Since then, you have begun to pray to a higher being, someone who could save you from those monsters that had decided to kill you. For what purpose? You cannot help, however, but think that they are trying to get revenge through you, for their losses and the humiliation. When the ship shakes aggressively, the shouts begin and the bell rings, you close your eyes to stem the flow of tears.
You are certain that your death is coming. Then, when everything begins to die down, the clash of swords and the sound of gunshots decreasing, the door to the storage room rattles and you tremble.
After a few more attempts, the door is ultimately kicked open, thus breaking the lock. Amongst the smoke and death that lies on the other side, a tall silhouette stands in the doorway, sword and dagger unsheathed. Half a beat of silence, and the figure approaches you as it puts the sword away. Your name comes out of your savior in a breathless whisper, as if suddenly frightened.
Shay kneels down in front of you, eyes frantic as they look over your face and body — searching for any wound. His eyes darken at the sight of your damp skin and red eyes, and he swiftly cuts the rope around your wrists with his dagger, before putting it away. ‘You’re safe now,’ he tells you as he takes the gag from your mouth. ‘Let’s get you out of here, lass.’
‘Shay,’ you call for him. You find yourself incapable, however, of getting up, tucked as you were in the corner of the room, arms around your knees. You feel your eyes water once more. You feel guilty for his troubles, but, most importantly, you wonder how he found you. It feels as if your roles have been reversed; in the beginning, you took care of him and made sure he got to his feet. It was a rocky journey, but, inevitably, Shay was out of the Finnegans’ house. And, now, he has saved you, rescued you from a certain death by the hands of the same men that had endangered you months ago.
Something shifts in your chest—no, you conclude. It’s only growing. You have often shoved the attraction for the Irishman, thinking of it as improper while you were tending to his wounds. There isn’t anything wrong if you acknowledge those feelings now, is there? You don’t know where his heart lies, but you are certain of yours.
His stare softens. Gently, he speaks. ‘Nobody will hurt you now. I won’t let them.’
Could I request AC Shay finding out that reader is his daughter, maybe during combat and then him realizing? Maybe reader had disappeared when the whole Davenport homestead attack happened or something. Please and thank you!
☾ ⋆ﾟ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Shay Cormac
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: canon-typical violence, unhappy ending
｡･:*˚:✧｡ shay cormac
♡ Shay had done everything in his power to look for you once he was recovered enough to leave the couple who had treated his injuries.
♡ once he became a Templar, he used all of their connections to look for you but they couldn't find out what had happened to you when the brotherhood turned on him
♡ he was equally as heartbroken as he was filled with rage when all of his efforts were fruitless. It was obvious that they had moved you elsewhere so that he wouldn't find you and he was set on getting you back, no matter how long it took.
♡ sometimes his search for you had to be put on hold as the timing of his missions as a Templar became of utmost importance and yet he never gave up on his search for you, it would always be picked up again and he would chase whatever lead he could find regarding your whereabouts.
♡ it would be decades until you ever saw each other again though. It was 1776 and you were in Versailles with your adopted father Charles Dorian. You had left for a few minutes to grab a plate full of snacks for yourself and your little brother Arno to share, only to find him missing from the spot that he had promised your father he would not move from. Instead, Charles was in his seat.
♡ finding the situation odd, you made your way towards him as he appeared asleep and it made you worry for his health but someone else beat you to it and there was a scream as he fell to the floor, dead.
♡ the shock kicked your brain into detective mode and your eyes went to all the exits in the room, finding that while all the other guests were now crowding around your father, one man was leaving the room and striding away from the growing ruckus.
♡ with your heart hammering in your chest, you followed him and paused only to grab a sword that had been placed on display on the wall if he was indeed the killer. Your confrontation had taken you by surprise, testing your fencing skills that Charles had insisted you undertake 'to teach you discipline and grace befitting of a lady'.
♡ you quickly found yourself outmatched by this older man's skill but, just as a blade emerged from his sleeve and poised over your throat, he froze as his eyes locked with yours, uttering your name in a whisper of disbelief, looking at you as though you were a ghost.
♡ this man knowing your name had only terrified you more and you felt sick as you began to see the similarities between his face and your own. Charles had never hidden from you that you were adopted, you had been told that you had been born in the British-American colonies and there was some disaster that separated you from your father who his allies did not know how to find.
♡ you suddenly lost all heart to attack him as your heart was filled with conflict. You had precious few and faded memories of your father and here he stood in front of you: with the blood of the father who had raised you on his hands.
♡ you hissed for him to get out of your sight before you went to seek out Arno.
☾ ⋆ﾟlike my work? why not:
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One summer passed and I couldn't get the thought of this imagine out of my head, so here it is.
Warnings! Lemon/smut, bj, unprotected seggs, a bit of man handling, crappy writing
"Hello (y/n). Have I kept you waiting for long? You must excuse me. So unlike myself."
You looked up from your place leaning back on the wall, giving him a sharp glare.
"Exactly. What have you going on this time Shay?"
Despite your harsh glare he had a soft kind smile on his face that did not waver even the slightest bit. You trusted him but you were still wary around him. They called him a traitor for a reason after all.
"You know I can't be seen with you. The other Assassin's will get suspicious."
"I've been careful, don't worry."
He was closing in on you and you knew it so you stood up straight and held your nose up looking at him defensively.
"What are you getting so close to me for, templar? Something on my face?"
"Getting quite close to (y/n), aren't you Shay?"
His shoulders couldn't get any more tense as his eyes snapped up at the grand master from his half full mug of ale. Master Kenway had stopped him after everyone had left already. What he was going to talk about hadn't been worrisome to Shay for he had done nothing wrong.
Up until he mentioned your name.
That's when his heart dropped.
He still hadn't done anything wrong, particularly. But he was no fool either. He knew he shouldn't have been partaking with the old enemy from the beginning but this one person. This one headstrong assassin. She brought back remnants of his past self he didnt know he needed and so he chose to close his eyes to it and just enjoy the moment while he could. And here he was his self made luck finally running out.
He watched the grand master deciding to remain silent for the lack of any good reply. Fortunately Kenway continued not needing a reply. Of course. He knew already.
"It is quite a surprise to me, you do not show any sign of wanting to go back."
"I don't know what you're talking about, master Kenway. If I've done something wrong-"
"You are no idiot Shay, you know exactly what I'm talking about. And you also know that you've done absolutely nothing wrong."
Shay shut his mouth and offered his best neutral confused look.
"You've been judged time and again and proven yourself smart and loyal over and over, so I'm pretty confident when I say you aren't the one who's done something wrong."
"Yeah there is, that cute smug expression."
He stopped right in front of you, his broad looming figure casting an extra shadow over your smaller form as he reached out and cupped your cheek, crashing his lips onto yours. You squirmed uncomfortably, your guilt and conscience eating away at your nerves, but he didn't pull back so you just decided to melt into him as you gave in to his greedy grabby hands.
He grabbed at your neck, then your arms, your waist, until he gripped your hips and pressed you back into the brick wall firmly locking you in place with his own body leaning into you, all the while his lips moving against yours like he wanted to mould you both into one.
"Shay..."
You pulled back with a breathless sigh and a dizzy head, needing air and his lips not disconnecting from you for a second, moved down the corner of your mouth and settled in the crook of your neck.
"Hmmm?"
"We can't do this now... I need to go..."
Your tone was familiar and a small smirk creeped onto his face as he gripped the back of your neck, knowing you wouldn't stand still, as his teeth clamped down on the soft skin over the length of your neck. You squeaked, your hands pushing against his chest in a futile attempt to make him let go. He chuckled at your struggle and wrapped his fingers around your neck, firm enough to restrict your air and surprise you when he slammed you back against the wall.
"But do you really want to stop this and go?"
You could still breathe so it wasn't a dire situation but Shay had never treated you like this. He was not asking for you like his usual self, he was demanding, with a dominance you found familiar, and at the same time, not quite.
You didn't want him to stop.
You looked up at him with big pleading eyes trying to bat your lashes at him and get on his good side without needing to further humiliate yourself. He wouldn't do that to you. He wasn't a certain someone else-
"Would be a shame if this was to stop now, whatever this is."
You could swear you instantly paled as the velvety voice of the templar grand master draped over you like a heavy blanket. It wasn't like you were doing anything wrong. After all you were just doing what you had been ordered to do... right?
"I'm willing to make an exception and share."
Shay frowned not having expected that of all things. He found that very odd.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, headmaster. But... that sounds terrifying..."
Haytham laughed as he stood up to walk casually towards Shay with his signature hands-hooked-behind-his-back walk. He put a firm heavy hand on Shay's shoulder.
"Consider it a reverse of roles. (Y/n) has been playing the both of us, I say it is time we thought her a good lesson."
Shay wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing. He had suspected what you were doing from the moment you started showing the slightest bit of interest, but to be told so bluntly that all you were doing was spying on him kinda hurt. That not only he was your play thing, he was not even the only one.
Was all you said and did a pleasant unfair act? And the fact he was given a chance to get back at you for it by the grand master himself. He couldn't understand if he was being dragged into a thicker plot that he couldn't comprehend or if all the facts were laid before him bare and straight. Something told him this was the last time he'd get to be close to you without consequences and he didn't want to miss it.
You didn't know whether to push Shay away or hide behind him, break your role or keep pretending, if you were pretending anymore at all, but he stepped away giving you no choice but to face the amused looking grand master of the templars, Haytham Kenway as he stalked closer ever so gracefully like a predator ready to play with his trapped prey.
"I see you have gotten quite creative in your methods. Never have I seen you so handsy during a mission. Or is it that you just tend to like templars a lot, little Assassin."
Your eyes darted between the two templars, sensing that you've screwed up. The two were close allies friends even, but you've never seen them operate together. At least not in a long while. And what were the chances they were on an important mission right now? Very very slim. Your mouth opened but you didn't know what to say.
"Doesn't happen often that you are so quite. Cat got your tongue? Or was it someone else, (y/n)."
Haytham glanced at Shay for a brief second and you cleared your throat and attempted to speak.
"I didn't know you were in the area, master Kenway."
"Or you wouldn't have given me your precious time?"
You looked at Shay feeling like you didn't approach the topic the right way.
"That's not what I said!"
"What would you have done if you'd known. Send me a vip invite?"
Haytham looked smugger than his usual self and it was getting on your nerves.
"I wouldn't get in any of your ways gentlemen. In fact I'm going to be off and on my way right about ... now."
You launched yourself to the other side dodging Haytham who seemed way too nonchalant. You realised why, when you crashed into Shay and his arms locked around you tightly. You couldn't take 2 master templars at once. You looked up at Shay pleadingly but he didn't look happy with you either. Your heart was pounding in your chest and he was holding you so tight he could probably feel it against his own.
"Sorry (y/n) but you've crossed the line this time."
You really didn't mean to cheat either of them and you technically weren't because it wasn't like you had anything with either of them anyway. You just really couldn't choose between them. You didn't think they would mind so much that they would gang up on you.
"I didn't know there was a line!"
"You have better manners than that. Or is it that your creed has finally started to corrupt you."
Haytham appeared behind you out of nowhere burying his nose in your hair and taking a long deep inhale as he locked eyes with Shay.
"Don't you worry, we're going to fuck the creed right out of you."
The deep cold growl Haytham let out in your ear made cold shivers run down your spine. You had heard this only once before and it ended oh so blissfully painful for you that time.
"Fuck! I haven't done anything wrong!"
Shay grabbed your hips and turned you around as Haytham gripped your jaw tightly, holding your face close to his. He glanced at your lips before scoffing and glaring into your eyes. He didn't kiss you. Of course. He barely kissed you even when you hadn't just had another man's lips on yours. You smirked at him.
"Is there a problem, sir?"
And he didn't like that.
"There are better things your filthy little mouth can be put to. If you don't mind, Shay?"
"By all means, be my guest."
Shay was thinking about the kind of dynamics you two had going on. He never got a 'sir' out of you. Not that he was really into that. But he was still curious if it was your thing or the grand master's and he had a pretty safe bet he knew who.
He watched as Haytham carded his fingers through your hair before grabbing a fist full and bending you down roughly, you gasped grabbing at his robes while bumping and grinding your ass back onto Shay, who bit his lower lip at the sudden contact. His hands grabbing on your waist to steady you.
"Open up."
You looked up at Haytham with pursed lips then at his crotch all the while wiggling your butt onto Shay. There was no way Haytham would forgive you any time soon so getting back on Shay's good side was your best bet for now. Yet he was reluctant to do anything else other than receive your little humps. Was he watching you and Haytham?
The thought excited you somehow and you found yourself smirking as your hands moved over to Haytham's pants, undoing them and slipping him out.
"Wow, you really are mad at me..."
"You have no idea, madame."
You pouted looking up at him through your lashes as you gave his barely hard cock a little lick.
He looked down on you face not changing at all. Shay usually rewarded you. You hummed as you wrapped your lips around the side of Haytham's cock, tongue darting out underneath, turning your neck to look at Shay and wiggling your ass again. Shay looked like he was in a trance, eyes glued onto you as he watched your tongue and lips work.
You were interrupted by the sharp sting of your scalp as Haytham gripped and tugged your head back in place firmly.
"What I believe she is trying to say is don't just stand there Shay, give her some attention."
You whimpered in agreement and Shay broke out of his trance finally starting to get rid of your pants.
"Oh sorry master Kenway, I didn't know we were doing this at the same time..."
"You thought I brought you here to stare at my cock?"
"No, sir."
Shay chuckled at Haytham's scoff. This was the most disheveled he had seen the master templar and it seemed quite amusing to him, somewhat funny even.
You didnt have much time between choking on Haytham's full length and your pants pooling by your ankles when Shay's cock slipped between your folds, your back arching in reflex as you gasped around Haytham. He huffed from the sensation but he wasn't satisfied.
"Do not treat her so gently Shay, this is a punishment."
Shay smirked feeling you tense up and held you even tighter.
"Sorry sweetheart, you heard the grand master."
Just as Shay thrusted himself into you, Haytham tugged you off of his cock, not that you dared bite him but he didnt want to test your limits. His hand covered the scream that ripped out of your mouth shushing you and wiping away the tears that slid down your lashes.
"Assassin's are supposed to be quiet. Are you going to be quiet now?"
You nodded your head sniffing as he removed his hand from your mouth. Shay had already rolled his hips a few times and you were getting accustomed to his width, his thrusts became brutal and forceful as he grabbed the back of your neck, fucking your cunt and pressing your face onto Haytham's dick that you were too busy mewling loudly to do anything about. It wasn't long before you were fluttering around his length, all the pent up tension had your cunt gushing and pumping out the fluids that dripped down the inside of your thighs. Shay wasn't done with you yet but looking at the way you were bent and grasping around for balance on shaky legs, and the way Haytham had been left out, he had better ideas. He pulled out of you again and you glanced at him as he sat on the ground, pulling you down over himself, in a way now you were sitting on his crotch, facing Haytham.
Haytham was soon to catch on as he stood over you.
"I get no say in this punishment, do I?"
You whined feeling your pussy pulsing lightly. You placed your hands on Shay's thighs as you grabbed his cock and placed it at your entrance, sliding back down on it slowly, hearing Shay grunt deeply for the first time as your walls wrapped around him tightly.
Haytham was at the end of his patience with you as he yanked your head back by the hair, receiving an apologetic look that he didn't care enough for as he shoved his cock back in your wet warm mouth.
You swallowed around his head, your throat wrapping around it tightly and he hissed making you feel extremely satisfied with yourself. At the same time you raised your hips and slammed back down onto Shay, hearing his breath catch in his throat.
These men thought you were their toy.
These arrogant Templars.
You smirked internally as you set up a pace that had Shay clutching your hips barely able to breathe, watching you drench his cock in your juices and then the whole thing disappearing between your cheeks. Your bouncing helped you set the pace on Haytham's cock as well. His cock met the back of your throat and your tight swallowing when ever Shay's was just about to slip out of your slick cunt, and you made sure to suck and hollow your cheeks around him every time Shay sunk back into you balls deep.
The vibrations from your moans were a bonus for the older man too as you found an angle at which Shay's girth made you see white and rubbed against it every time. But before that you would make at least one of these men cum.
They had other plans however. Especially Haytham who seemed to know your dirty mind a little better. You were being punished after all.
He pulled himself out of your mouth and stepped away, grabbing his shaft and resuming your pace, using his hand.
"What! No-"
"Punishment (y/n). You've done nothing to get rewarded for. Finish off Shay."
In a blink you were on the ground, face down, ass up as Shay started pounding you. Your moans coming out in ragged breaths as you clawed at the floor, your walls beginning to clench around the brutal onslaught of Shay's thrusts. Just as your eyes were about to roll back in your head, Shay pulled out of you, your walls painfully trying to clench around something to chase the orgasm they've been denied, to no avail. You whined in protest as he finished himself off on the ground, just like Haytham with his smug look as he knew he had denied you your prize.
You glared up at him as you collected yourself off of the ground scooting away from the both of them suddenly feeling the exhaustion.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cheat you both... but you are both assholes..."
Shay chuckled as he handed you your discarded pants that you snatched away stubbornly. Haytham only offered one of his cruel smiles.
"Oh no, there seems to be some creed remaining in her. We need to fix that."
