Sea- Shay Cormac x f.reader
Codextober Day 10
Summary: Shay is forced to take his apprentice (y/n), who also happens to be Haytham’s very own daughter, on her first sea voyage. Along the way they get a chance to express their growing feelings towards each other.
Rating: G
A/N: 1009999586 million years later yikes lmao, I’m gonna finish that Codextober list if it’s the last thing I do. 🥲😅💕 I hope ya’ll had a wonderful holiday season. ❤️
~
The air in Fort Arsenal’s study was thick with tension and unspoken history. Shay Patrick Cormac stood before his large oak desk that was currently being occupied by someone other than him.
That someone occupying the desk was Grand Master Haytham Kenway, a man who was both his friend and boss, finished tracing a route on a well-worn map.
“The artifact has been located, Shay,” Haytham said, his voice as calm and sharp. “Our sources in the Carolinas confirm it. The artifact cannot fall into the wrong hands. You are to sail the Morrigan to the coordinates provided, secure the site, and retrieve the artifact by any means necessary.”
Shay gave a single, curt nod. “Aye, sir. It’ll be done.”
Haytham leaned back in his chair, his expression now conflicted. His cool grey eyes held Shay’s.
“There is another matter. You will not be going alone.”
A prickle of unease traced Shay’s spine, he knew where this was going. “Gist and the crew are more than capable—”
“(y/n) will accompany you.”
The words landed like a cannonball in the quiet room. Shay’s composure cracked, just for a second. “Haytham… sir. With respect, the waters off the Carolinas are treacherous. The mission is—“
“Dangerous. Precisely,” Haytham interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate, but his eyes told another story.
“She has been under your tutelage for years now. You yourself have reported her progress to be exceptional. It is time her training was tested in the outside world.”
“She’s a quick study, I’ll not deny it,” Shay argued, the rich brogue of his Irish accent thickening with his concern “I mean this with no disrespect Hayth—sir, this is no place for a test, she is not ready. If anything were to happen to her—”
“Then I would hold you personally responsible,” Haytham finished, his voice dropping to a dangerously pleasant register. “Which is, of course, the primary reason I am entrusting her to you. No other man in this Order is more… invested in her safe return. I trust you with my daughter’s safety more than any of the other fools.”
Shay’s jaw tightened. The unspoken truth hung between them. Haytham knew. Of course he knew. A man didn’t rise to lead the Colonial Templars without noticing the way his most feared hunter looked at his most precious, and beloved daughter.
“She will meet you at the docks at dawn,” Haytham spoke as he went back to his paperwork, effectively ending the discussion, neither man wanting to discuss the topic any further. “Do not be late.”
(y/n) Kenway was waiting by the gangplank of the Morrigan, her posture ramrod straight ( a feature her father insisted was important), an expensive leather satchel at her feet.
The morning mist clung to the water around her, with the morning breeze blowing the strands of hair that had escaped her simple braid. She possessed her father’s sharp features and penetrating gaze, but where Haytham’s eyes were cold like winter ice, hers were warm like the summer sunshine, but still held the same intense fierceness as her father’s.
She watched Shay approach, her expression a carefully constructed mask of neutrality that didn’t quite hide her triumph, Shay had never let her go on long voyages with him.
“Captain,” she greeted, her voice was cooler than the harbour water.
“(y/n),” he grunted, he barely slowed his stride as he boarded his ship. “Stow your gear in my cabin by the charts. You’ll bunk with me until we can clear a space in the hold.”
Her mask slipped, revealing a flash of fake indignation to hide her nervousness. “Your cabin? I assumed I’d have my own quarters.”
Shay turned, his brown eyes hard, yet those same eyes and his voice held hints of amusement. “You assumed wrong lass. This isn’t a pleasure cruise. You’re here on your father’s orders, not mine. You’ll sleep where I damn well tell you to sleep. Now move.”
He saw the rebellion spark in her eyes, the same reckless fire that had driven him to distraction during her training.
She as usual tried to push aside her feelings towards him, and convince herself that he was too old for her, and that he always had a chip on his shoulder around her. She continued to suppress her feelings as usual and played the game.
He in turn, also tried convincing himself that she was too young for a man of his age, and that she was naive, and a liability he’d just been ordered to chain to his hip. He was also ignoring his growing feelings toward her. Shay played his part in the game just as well.
But deep down they both knew that they were not fooling anybody, and they were only lying to themselves.
Their first days at sea were a fresh kind of hell for the young woman. (y/n), for all her land-bound agility and sharp wit, was miserably seasick. Shay’s frustration and concern mounted with each passing hour, his fear for her manifesting as a constant, grating strictness, but he was only making the situation worse for her.
“Secure that line properly, Kenway! A loose knot gets men killed!”
“Stay away from the starboard railings in this swell! I’ll not have you washed overboard!”
“Your pistol is to be cleaned and loaded at all times. Not when you remember, at all times!”
They bickered constantly. He was a brooding hen, clucking and fussing, and she was the defiant chick, pecking back at every turn, not listening and looking to get herself into trouble at every opportunity.
Eventually Christopher Gist, Shay’s first mate and longtime friend, had enough.
Finding Shay glaring at the horizon, his knuckles white on the railing as (y/n) practiced her swordplay on the deck below, Gist leaned against the mast.
“The lass parries better than most men, Shay,” Gist said casually. “And she’s got an eye for navigation that’s unnerving. Ease up on the reigns, Captain. You’ll strangle the spirit right out of her.”
Shay’s gaze had now landed on her. “Haytham will skin me alive if a single hair on her head is harmed.”
Gist snorted. “Are you sure that it has nothing to do with the fact you’re mad for the girl.”
Shay finally shot him a dark look. “Not now Gist.”
“Or what? You’ll make me swab the decks Captain? I’m just saying, a man can only watch the thing he loves most get battered by the wind for so long before he either cracks or has to let it fly free.”
As the voyage progressed, the winds continued to howl over the harsh waters of the North Atlantic like a wounded beast, tearing through the rigging and sending salt spray stinging across the deck.
Above, the sky was a bruised tapestry of storm clouds churning with restless energy.
Shay stood sturdy at the helm, his hands clenched tight around the wheel, knuckles now white, jaw set like granite.
He wasn’t afraid of the sea. He’d sailed it for years—chased assassins across its unforgiving expanse, weathered gales that could crush ships like eggshells, and fought battles atop decks slick with blood and rain. But today, for the first time in a long while, fear clutched at his chest like an iron hand.
Because she was onboard, and she was his precious cargo. He had never felt such pressure, as he navigated through the storm.
(y/n) climbed the steps to the quarterdeck with steady footing, despite the ship’s violent pitch. Her hair was whipping against her back like a flag.
Shay watched her approach from the corner of his eye, his breath catching despite himself.
“You shouldn’t be out in this weather lass,” he spoke, voice low, strained. “Why aren’t you resting?”
(y/n) scoffed, stepping to his side and bracing herself against the railing.
“Resting? We’ve not even hit the worst of it yet. And every time Gist takes the wheel, you start pacing the deck all night. You’re worse than a caged wolf.”
Shay didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Every time he looked at her, he saw disaster. What if the ship capsized? What if pirates attacked? What if an Assassin got aboard under cover of the squall? His mind spun with every nightmare scenario, each more terrible than the last.
“You’re doing it again,” she said softly, turning to face him.
“That brooding thing. Like the world is about to collapse and only you can keep it upright.”
“And maybe it is,” he muttered, finally looking at her, “This isn’t some training exercise at Fort Arsenal, lass. This mission—it’s dangerous. We’re sailing into waters no sane man crosses without a fleet. And the Grandmaster didn’t send you here to sightsee.”
The woman stiffened, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I know what the mission is, and why my father’s sending me. I’ve been given the same orders you have. I’m not a child, Shay. He obviously knows I’m more than capable of handling things myself, you don’t need to try and shield me anymore Shay.”
“I’m not shielding you,” he snapped. “I’m protecting the mission. If anything happens to you-”
“If anything happens to me? That doesn’t sound like you are worried about the mission, it sounds like you are concerned about my safety and abilities. You have no right to worry about me Shay.” she interrupted, voice rising over the wind, “You’ve thrown yourself into every risk these past five years, charging into Assassin dens like a madman, and no one said a word...I never said anything, even though it killed me to watch you go each time. But the moment I step on your ship, suddenly you’re a tyrant with a death grip on the wheel? Why? Is it only because my father will kill you?”
Shay’s jaw clenched, he was not in the mood for an argument. “You know that’s not why.”
“Then why can’t you just talk to me?” Her voice softened, and she stepped closer. “You barely let me near the deck unless you’re watching. You tell Gist to check our cabin twice a night. You won’t even let me spar on dry deck anymore. You’re suffocating me, Shay. You make me feel incapable.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak. Rain streaked his face, mixing with the sweat at his brow from concentration. He looked at her—really looked—seeing past the defiance to the worry beneath. She wasn’t just annoyed. She was hurting.
And God help him, he loved her. Shay had always hated to see her hurting.
“I can’t lose you,” he said, so quietly it was barely above the wind. “That’s what it is. Not because of your father. But because I just can’t. And I know I should’ve left you behind. I wanted to. But you asked me—no, demanded—to take you, and when I looked at you, I… I couldn’t say no.”
She blinked, her anger melting into something tender, unexpected. She reached up, brushing a loose wet strand of dark hair from his forehead.
“You’re such a fool Shay Cormac,” she whispered. “I’m not made of glass. I’ve trained under you for three years. I can fight. I can shoot. I can survive.”
“And I’ve seen good fighters die in an instant,” he shot back, voice rough with emotion as he tried not to lose complete focus on controlling the ship. “It only takes one misstep. One lucky shot. One betrayal.”
She decided to wrap her arms around him from behind, and rested her cheek against his back.
“Then let me keep learning. Let me stand beside you. Not behind you. Not hidden away. Beside you. I can’t learn to protect myself with you always doing the protecting.”
Suddenly ship lurched violently, and Shay turned instinctively and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him to steady her. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The storm raged, the world tilted beneath them, but in that moment, there was only her warmth, her breath against his skin, the quiet trust in her eyes. Their faces only inches apart.
He exhaled, defeated.
“Alright, I’ll get off you’re case.” he murmured. “But you follow every order. No arguments. No heroics. Understand?”
She smiled, small and triumphantly.
“Yes, Captain.” She purred proudly.
The wall that they had built between each other finally caved later that night. The storm had continued brewing along their route, and though the Morrigan rode the towering waves with the grace, the ship was a cacophony of creaking wood, snapping canvas, and howling wind.
Shay, after doing one final check of the ship, then found her.
She was safely tucked away in the captains quarters—his quarters, in the dim glow of an oil lamp, (y/n) sat on the edge of Shay’s bed, unlacing her boots. Shay walked over to his desk, pouring two mugs of tea from a small kettle that she had just boiled.
He couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks were flushed, and how beautiful her eyes were. The stubborn, naive girl was gone, replaced by a grown matured woman.
Some of the iron tension in Shay’s spine began to melt.
The cabin was their own fragile world, swaying violently but somehow sacred.
“You should be resting,” he said, his voice rougher than usual from shouting orders earlier.
She looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You don’t have to keep doing this, I mean share your quarters.,” she said. “I could’ve just gone below deck with the crew, I don’t belong here in your cabin.”
“This is your cabin when you’re aboard,” he said, handing her a steaming mug, “I won’t have you below deck with a bunch of strange men, you’re father would kill me.”
She took it with a grateful, shy, blushing smile, blowing gently over the surface.
“Still… it feels strange. Being here. With you. Like I’m intruding. And besides I’m not sure he’d be exactly enthusiastic about you sharing your cabin with me.”
“You’re not,” he said firmly, sitting beside her. “Never that lass. And what Haytham doesn’t know won’t kill him.”
Silence settled between them comfortably, warm and heavy. Outside, the creak of the ship and the whisper of waves against the hull filled the quiet. Shay watched the way the firelight danced in her eyes, the way her fingers curled around the mug like she was holding onto something precious.
“You’re not sick anymore,” he observed, gradually moving his body closer to hers. The bed dipped under his weight.
“The sickness has passed…,” she said softly, leaning into him naturally as the ship lurched. His arm came around her shoulder protectively, holding her steady. “But now… now I think I like it. The rhythm of the waves. The quiet at night. The way the stars look out here—like they’re close enough to touch. And most of all… I like being with you. Even when you’re brooding.”
He breathed in the scent of her hair—salt, sea spray, and the faint lavender soap she used.
“You pretended you didn’t hate it the first few days. Cursed my name and your father’s for putting you on this ‘rotting deathtrap’. You were completely miserable. I couldn’t stand to see my favourite lass ruining the side of my ship with her stomach contents, nearly turned back twice. Regretted bringing you aboard from the moment you stepped on to my ship.”
She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that was swallowed by the storm’s roar outside.
She then quieted down and tilted her head to look at him. “I was wrong about you.”
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the squall. “And what am I?”
“Not old. Not cold.” Her hand came to rest on his chest, over his heart. “Just… careful. protective. I understand now.”
She turned fully to face him, her expression earnest. “Thank you, Shay.”
A long, and comfortable silence followed.
“But I won’t lie, I was nervous,” she suddenly admitted after a while, finally breaking the comfortable silence. “When we first set sail. Not of the mission. But of…failing you.”
He turned to her, surprised.
“Me?”
She nodded. “You’ve changed over the years since you’ve began training me. You were always strict, yes. But never afraid. Now? Now you’re afraid—for me. And that scares me more than any assassin ever could. I do not wish to disappoint you Shay. My biggest fear is letting you down.”
Shay looked down at his gloved hands guiltily, “I don’t mean to worry you lass. You could never disappoint me.”
“I see it—the way you watch me Shay. The way you tense every time I move. It makes me feel… fragile. Like I am not good enough. That I’m a failure waiting to happen.”
“You’re more than good enough,” he defended fiercely.
“You’re brilliant. Fierce. Determined. You’re everything your father is—and more. But I’m not worried about the mission itself lass, I couldn’t care less about the outcome of the mission right now… it’s the fact that I can’t lose you. Not to the assassins. Not to the sea. Not to anything.”
She set the mug aside and shifted closer, her hand finding his larger gloved one. “I’m not going anywhere Shay. I chose this path. I chose you. And yes, I know it’s reckless. I know my father isn’t fond of the idea, but he trusts you with my safety, and so do I. When I’m with you, I always feel safe and protected.”
Shay’s breath caught in his throat, “So this is truly how you feel?”
She smirked, soft and knowing.
“Don’t play dumb, Shay Cormac. You’ve known about my feelings for sometime now. But…I also see the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. The way your voice changes when you say my name.”
He said nothing. Could say nothing. His heart pounded like a war drum.
(y/n) leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder.
Shay chuckled, low and warm.
“Admit it.,” she said, nuzzling into him. “You are glad to have me here.”
He sighed, surrendering, “Fine. I’m glad. More than glad. I’d have sailed to the edge of the world if it meant keeping you safe with me, or to see that smile on your face.”
She tilted her head up, meeting his eyes. “Then take me there. Not because your orders say so. But because you want me there.”
Shay cupped her face, his calloused thumb stroking her cheek, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you everywhere by my side. I’d not have a moment’s peace if you were anywhere but where I can see you,” he admitted, the raw truth finally breaking free.
He kissed her then, not with the frantic passion of the storm outside, but with a slow, deep certainty, as if they were finally anchoring in a safe harbour after a lifetime adrift.
She gladly excepted his kiss, her fingers tangling in his dark tied backed hair, pulling him closer.
Eventually, they pulled apart, breathless. She tucked herself against his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his leather coat.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For training me. For believing in me. For… not actually leaving me behind. I know you wanted to. I saw it in your eyes when Father gave us the mission.”
Shay closed his eyes, holding her tighter. “I did want to. Every instinct told me to lock you in Fort Arsenal and sail without you. But I couldn’t. Not when you looked at me like you trusted me to take care of you. Not when I… when I love you. I just want to see you safe and happy lass.”
She stilled at those three little words. Then, slowly, she tilted her head up. “Say that again.”
He mentally kicked himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. He had not felt these kind of feelings in a long time and that scared him.
He gathered enough courage and opened his eyes, bringing them to meet hers. “I love you, (y/n). I think I have since the day you threw a dagger at my head for correcting your stance.”
She laughed, tears glistening in her eyes. “That was a good day. And Shay, I love you too.”
They eventually fell asleep in his bed, Shay curled himself around (y/n), both falling asleep to the rocking of the ship. She was a warm, steady presence in his arms, her breath soft against his neck. And in the quiet moments before sleep claimed him, Shay Patrick Cormac, the man who had made a career of hunting dangers, knew he had never been more terrified, or more completely in love.
The next day, the sea was a vast, calm expanse of blue, as if the storm had never been.
The mood on deck was lighter, the crew sensing the shift in their captain’s temperament.
Shay found (y/n) at the bow, watching the dolphins race the ship’s wake. The sunlight caught in her hair, highlighting its polished strands. The memory of her in his arms, the feel of her soft skin under his hands, was a brand on his soul.
She saw him and joined him, wearing her signature smile that always seemed to take his breath away.
“You look less like a storm cloud today,” she said, stepping beside him.
“I feel less like one,” he admitted.
Then, with a slow smile, he reached out.
“Come here,” he said, his voice softer than it had been in days.
She followed him to the great wheel. Christopher Gist, manning it, raised a dark eyebrow but silently surrendered his post with a knowing smirk. He nodded towards the pair as he made his way to join the crew.
She raised an eyebrow, and gave Shay a questioning look.
“What are you up too?”
“I’m going to teach you how to steer the Morrigan.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He moved behind her as she took her place at the wheel, his large leather gloved hands covering hers on the wheel. He purposely positioned himself tightly behind her, his chest resting securely against her back. She leaned back into him, a perfect fit.
“Grip it like this. Steady. Not too tight. The sea speaks through the tiller—you’ve got to listen to her lass. A ship is not just sails and rudder,” Shay began, his professional tone had made a flimsy shield to hide his nerves. “It’s a living thing. You have to feel its will in the wheel, listen to it in the wind in the ropes.”
She relaxed back into him, her body fitting against his like it was meant to be there. “It’s… easier than I thought.”
“That’s because you’re a natural lass,” he proudly stated, voice warm against her ear. She could feel the coarseness of his stubble against her neck as he nuzzled into her affectionately. “Just like with everything else.”
They sailed in silence for a while, the Morrigan cutting through the waves with her graceful precision. Shay guided her hands, murmuring instructions about keeping the course steady, watch the wind, feel the balance of the ship.
“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice low by her ear. “That’s the current pulling us south. The wheel fights it, just a little. You don’t want to fight back too hard. You guide. You negotiate.”
He continued talking her through the basics, his voice a steady rumble. But his mind was not on the lesson. It was on the woman in his arms, on the terrifying, boundless future she represented. The mission ahead was dangerous. His life was a tapestry of violent threads. The thought of anything happening to her was a physical pain.
The words came out before he could stop them. He had wanted to secure her future, to give her something of his to hold onto.
“If anything ever happens to me,” he said, his tone shifting, losing its instructive edge, becoming deadly serious. “I want you to have the Morrigan.”
(y/n) froze.
The change in her was immediate. She stiffened in his arms, her hands freezing under his. She tried to turn, but he held her firmly in place, he couldn’t look her in the eyes at that moment.
“What?” she emotionally whispered as she kept her gaze fixed ahead.
He kept his voice low, serious.
“She’s more than a ship to me (y/n). She’s my home. My purpose. And if I’m ever not here to sail her… I want her in your hands. She’s a fine ship. The finest. She’d serve you well. Gist would stay on, he’d—”
She spun around, forcibly wrenching her hands from the wheel, her face pale. “Shay, don’t say that. Don’t you dare.”
“(Y/n)—”
“Don’t!” Her voice cracked.
“Don’t talk like you’re already gone. Don’t even think it. You’re not allowed to die on me, Shay Cormac. Do you hear me? You’re not. I don’t want your ship. I want you.”
Her anger wasn’t at the suggestion; it was at the prospect of a loss too profound for her to bear. And in that moment, Shay felt a surge of pure, unadulterated honour.
This fierce, beautiful, impossible woman loved him so completely that the mere hint of his mortality was a personal affront.
“I’m not going anywhere for a long time lass.”
He couldn’t help the small, tender smile that touched his lips. He framed her face with his large hands, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. “Alright, lass. Alright. I’m sorry. It was a foolish thing to say. I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”
“It was,” she insisted angrily, her lower lip still trembling. “You promise you’ll stay safe?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “Swear it Shay.”
“I swear to you,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ve got too much left to do. Too many Assassins to stop. Too many sunrises and memories to share with you. I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”
This time she was the one who pulled him into a fierce kiss, desperate and deep, pouring every ounce of fear and love into it. When they broke apart, her eyes were wet, but her smile had returned.
“You better keep that promise,” she whispered.
“I will,” he said. Then, softer, “I love you too much not to.”
Just then, a sharp whistle echoed from the rigging, followed by a loud boisterous laugh. They turned to see Christopher Gist perched on the mainmast, grinning like a fool.
“Oh, don’t mind me Captain,” the first mate called down.
“Just admiring the view. Though I did warn you, Shay. Told you to take it easy on the girl. Didn’t think you’d take my advice quite this far. Now that the air’s clear, Captain, perhaps we can focus on sailing this lovely lady to the Carolinas without you scowling a hole through the hull?”
Shay smirked to himself shamelessly without breaking eye contact with her.
She, however, simply giggled, the sound bright and free.
Shay looked at (y/n), at the blush on her cheeks and the love shining in her eyes, brighter than any precursor artifact.
And for the first time in a long time, Shay Cormac didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He felt hope.
He felt love.
And as the Morrigan cut through the endless blue, sails full and heart full, he knew—no matter what dangers lay ahead, no matter how dark the path, he wouldn’t walk it alone.
She was with him.
And that was enough for Shay Cormac.
