Shay’s Morrigan

Basim:

✧ i'm sensing wood, smoke, incense. Either he's got a heavy smell to him, you feel it before you see him, or he doesn't smell like anything. It conflicts (The heavy smell) with the whole master assasin thing but I think it has an underlayer that makes you question him, something hidden underneath the incense. Nothing sweet to him, maybe a little bitter sometimes citrus-y.

Hytham:

✿ A lot of people would say he smells like books, old paper but that scent doesn't linger, I also don't think it would be his go to perfume smell. It's something unisex. Sometimes sandal and myrrh incense specifically. He smells nicely and not too strong, maybe pink pepper and some musk?

Evie Frye:

✯ I'm getting very strong flower vibes. Especially iris flowers, the flower is a symbol for mystery (depends on colour but i'm rambling now) and I feel like people see her as mysterious in a way. Safe to say she has multiple perfume scents to choose from with a rose one being her most used, rose a slight tinge of bergamot. Also a lavender one.

Jacob Frye:

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ I'm having a lot of trouble with him on this topic. He smells like a breeze, the outside, little bit like hay, it has a certain dust-like feel to it, axe body spray.

Arno Dorian:

✧ If we consider him living like he does in-game then he smells like coffee and a bakery. I don't mean he smells like a fresh pastry, more like after baking there's somtimes this greasy, oily note in the air, he hates it and tries to cover himself in perfume - french vanilla and rose. He prefers sweeter perfume.

Elisé:

ෆ Lillies, something similar to an old rosary a little smoke.

Shay:

～⁠♡ Gunpowder he would like shooting for practice in his free time, a cold winter morning, but his perfume is amber, he sprays himself like once.

Haytham Kenway:

⊰⁠⊹ something fancy, unisex but masculine leaning, very pleasant and not overwhelming. Musk and something a little sweet maybe even a fruit.

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Desmond Miles x f. reader

Summary: It's been a year since Desmond's death and his partner is struggling with her grief, but Desmond left her with a reason to get out of bed each morning morning.

Rating//warnings: all my work is +18, mentions of depression, death, and motherhood

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{a/n: I promised myself I'd finish codextober 2025, so here i am in 2026 trying to finish the list, but it's still a fun challenge! }

The first golden rays of the morning sun slipped through the cracked blinds of the bedroom she had once shared with Desmond. That same morning sun—once a warm promise of another day—had become a cruel reminder of who and what she had lost. It had been an exact year since Desmond had left her. She would never forget this date, no matter how much she wished too.

(y/n) lay on her side, with her blankets tucked tightly around her, pulling them to her chin, the matress indenting where her body had sunk into the sheets. The hallow ache in her chest was a familiar, dull throb, each breath she took was a reminder that the man who had once whispered love into her ear was now only a memory stitched into the fabric of her world. She clutched his sweater to her chest. It still smelled faintly of cologne and aftershave, a scent that now seemed to belong to another lifetime.

She had kept the curtains drawn ever since that day. The sun’s glare felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the same solar flares that had nearly ended humanity again, like it had seventy‑five thousand years ago during the Toba catastrophe. It reminded her daily of Desmond’s sacrifice, and each ray of light felt like a mockery of the price he had paid. But the world continued to spin, and people went about their days, yet her love for her deceased partner only grew.

From another room a sudden, sharp wail pierced the quiet—a sound that cut through her haze like a knife. It was her infant daughter, swaddled in a blanket in her crib, her tiny fists flailing as she protested the world that had taken her father before she could even know his name.

(y/n)'s heart lurched. Instinct overrode her grief. She threw the her blankets aside, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She pulled the sweater tightly around her.

She hurried to the nursery, the cheap vinyl floorboards creaking under her bare feet. The moment her arms closed around her baby, the cries faltered, then died, replaced by a soft, uncertain hiccup, and confusionin the infants eyes. She pressed the infant’s cheek softy against her own and, feeling the warmth and soft baby skin, it anchored her.

“Shhh, my love,” she murmured, voice hoarse from crying. “It’s okay. Mama's here.”

She began to rock her baby, swaying gently from side to side, the sweater’s fabric brushing against her daughter's skin. A faint smile tugged at the corner of the infant’s mouth, then blossomed into a giggle that sounded like wind chimes in a summer breeze as she played with the strings of her father's sweater. The baby’s eyes, wide and dark, that looked so much like her fathers, locked onto (y/n)'s, searching for reassurance in the depths of her mother’s loving gaze.

(y/n) walked slowly to the window, cradling her child close. The morning sun, now higher in the sky, poured gold across the floor, painting patterns that danced like the glyphs Desmond had once traced in the Animus. The baby’s head turned, drawn inexorably to the blazing orb. But her mother instinctively lifted a hand to shield the tiny girls eyes, her fingers forming a visor.

A choked laugh escaped her, half‑sob, half‑wry. “You know,” she whispered, “your father didn’t give his life just so his daughter could be blinded by the same object that almost ended us all. He wanted you to see the world…you can't to do that if you are blind.”

The baby giggled again, a sound pure and unburdened, as if she understood the joke in a way only infants can—through feeling, not words.

(y/n)’s eyes slipped shut for a moment, and the memory of Desmond’s face surfaced: the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the steady rhythm of his, that contagious smile he always wore for her, the promise he had made to marry her once the mission was over. A tear slipped down her cheek, catching the sunlight and turning it into a tiny prism.

She opened her eyes, looking down at the little life nestled against her chest. “His sacrifice wasn’t for nothing,” she said aloud, the words firm despite the tremor in her voice. “You are proof of that. You carry his blood, courage, his kindness, his stubborn hope… you carry him.”

She pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, feeling the soft brown downy hair beneath her lips. “And I promise you this, my love: I will keep you safe. No Abstergo agent, cult, or shadow from the past, will ever take you from me. I will be the shield you need, just as he was the shield for the world.”

A soft coo rose from the baby’s lips, as if assenting to the vow. (y/n) glanced once more at the sun, now a benevolent disc rather than a threatening blaze. She smiled, a genuine, tired smile that reached her eyes.

“Desmond,” she whispered out loud, “you’re still here. In her laugh, in her warmth, in every breath we take together. And I know we're not alone, we have you watching over us. She is my sunshine and the best gift you could have ever blessed me with Desmond miles. As long as she's here, you are here.”

The baby snuggled deeper into warmth of her mother’s breast, eyes finally drooping as sleep claimed her. (y/n) lowered herself onto the rug beside the crib, still holding the sweater close, and let the morning light wash over them both—no longer a reminder of loss, but a promise of new beginnings.

Desmond Miles x f. reader

Summary: It's been a year since Desmond's death and his partner is struggling with her grief, but Desmond left her with a reason to get out of bed each morning morning.

Rating//warnings: all my work is +18, mentions of depression, death, and motherhood

__________________________

__________________________

{a/n: I promised myself I'd finish codextober 2025, so here i am in 2026 trying to finish the list, but it's still a fun challenge! }

The first golden rays of the morning sun slipped through the cracked blinds of the bedroom she had once shared with Desmond. That same morning sun—once a warm promise of another day—had become a cruel reminder of who and what she had lost. It had been an exact year since Desmond had left her. She would never forget this date, no matter how much she wished too.

(y/n) lay on her side, with her blankets tucked tightly around her, pulling them to her chin, the matress indenting where her body had sunk into the sheets. The hallow ache in her chest was a familiar, dull throb, each breath she took was a reminder that the man who had once whispered love into her ear was now only a memory stitched into the fabric of her world. She clutched his sweater to her chest. It still smelled faintly of cologne and aftershave, a scent that now seemed to belong to another lifetime.

She had kept the curtains drawn ever since that day. The sun’s glare felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the same solar flares that had nearly ended humanity again, like it had seventy‑five thousand years ago during the Toba catastrophe. It reminded her daily of Desmond’s sacrifice, and each ray of light felt like a mockery of the price he had paid. But the world continued to spin, and people went about their days, yet her love for her deceased partner only grew.

From another room a sudden, sharp wail pierced the quiet—a sound that cut through her haze like a knife. It was her infant daughter, swaddled in a blanket in her crib, her tiny fists flailing as she protested the world that had taken her father before she could even know his name.

(y/n)'s heart lurched. Instinct overrode her grief. She threw the her blankets aside, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She pulled the sweater tightly around her.

She hurried to the nursery, the cheap vinyl floorboards creaking under her bare feet. The moment her arms closed around her baby, the cries faltered, then died, replaced by a soft, uncertain hiccup, and confusionin the infants eyes. She pressed the infant’s cheek softy against her own and, feeling the warmth and soft baby skin, it anchored her.

“Shhh, my love,” she murmured, voice hoarse from crying. “It’s okay. Mama's here.”

She began to rock her baby, swaying gently from side to side, the sweater’s fabric brushing against her daughter's skin. A faint smile tugged at the corner of the infant’s mouth, then blossomed into a giggle that sounded like wind chimes in a summer breeze as she played with the strings of her father's sweater. The baby’s eyes, wide and dark, that looked so much like her fathers, locked onto (y/n)'s, searching for reassurance in the depths of her mother’s loving gaze.

(y/n) walked slowly to the window, cradling her child close. The morning sun, now higher in the sky, poured gold across the floor, painting patterns that danced like the glyphs Desmond had once traced in the Animus. The baby’s head turned, drawn inexorably to the blazing orb. But her mother instinctively lifted a hand to shield the tiny girls eyes, her fingers forming a visor.

A choked laugh escaped her, half‑sob, half‑wry. “You know,” she whispered, “your father didn’t give his life just so his daughter could be blinded by the same object that almost ended us all. He wanted you to see the world…you can't to do that if you are blind.”

The baby giggled again, a sound pure and unburdened, as if she understood the joke in a way only infants can—through feeling, not words.

(y/n)’s eyes slipped shut for a moment, and the memory of Desmond’s face surfaced: the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the steady rhythm of his, that contagious smile he always wore for her, the promise he had made to marry her once the mission was over. A tear slipped down her cheek, catching the sunlight and turning it into a tiny prism.

She opened her eyes, looking down at the little life nestled against her chest. “His sacrifice wasn’t for nothing,” she said aloud, the words firm despite the tremor in her voice. “You are proof of that. You carry his blood, courage, his kindness, his stubborn hope… you carry him.”

She pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, feeling the soft brown downy hair beneath her lips. “And I promise you this, my love: I will keep you safe. No Abstergo agent, cult, or shadow from the past, will ever take you from me. I will be the shield you need, just as he was the shield for the world.”

A soft coo rose from the baby’s lips, as if assenting to the vow. (y/n) glanced once more at the sun, now a benevolent disc rather than a threatening blaze. She smiled, a genuine, tired smile that reached her eyes.

“Desmond,” she whispered out loud, “you’re still here. In her laugh, in her warmth, in every breath we take together. And I know we're not alone, we have you watching over us. She is my sunshine and the best gift you could have ever blessed me with Desmond miles. As long as she's here, you are here.”

The baby snuggled deeper into warmth of her mother’s breast, eyes finally drooping as sleep claimed her. (y/n) lowered herself onto the rug beside the crib, still holding the sweater close, and let the morning light wash over them both—no longer a reminder of loss, but a promise of new beginnings.

"You will think yourself alone, but know that I will be at your side. Always and forever. I love you." ―Kaniehtí:io's last words to her son, 1760

Their family is so tragic :') I love them so much. The gif had to be compressed af for tumblr. The high quality animation and process video are on my instagram!

GUYS I MADE A THING

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

Tura Lura Lura (Shay Cormac x Reader)

“Where are you? You should have been back by now.”

Heavy footsteps creaked against the hard wooden floor of the small cabin, making the air heavy with his rather verbal concern of your arrival. The noise traveling a distinct path of pacing, coming from an older man, arms hooked around his back as he rubbed his knuckles. Shay wasn’t the type of man to let worry get the best of him, knowing that he had to hope to for the best or force his homebrewed luck on the situation but this one was out of his grasp. He didn’t quite know why the Templars needed you for assistance but he wouldn’t question, knowing in the end that they were doing right and that you would be safe, the last thing they would ever do would be to hurt you, he made sure of that. Worries and concerns about your safety were soon wiped from mind as he heard a shrill cry coming from the nearby room, focusing his attention on the small bundle that cried and wailed for her mother.

“What’s the matter, lass?” he mumbled, picking up the child as he wasn’t quite sure what awoke her but would try his best to calm his daughter. Despite (d/n) being born at the worst time in Shay and (y/n)’s life, Shay moving his allegiance to the Templars from the Assassins and convincing you as well but even through the rough points, you would always support him and with (d/n) now, you both had cemented your life with each other and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Your mum will be back soon, I promise,” he murmured as wasn’t usually the nurturing type but he had to be there for his child, slowing rocking her in his arms. The infant’s wails and cries didn’t stop, starting to wear Shay’s patience down as he had to take control of the situation now.

“If I can captain a ship or hunt a deer, I can rock my child to sleep,” he whispered to himself as he sat down at your rocking chair, pushing himself gentle with his heel as he gave a small cough, humming a few notes in the vain hope that a small lullaby would help his lass fall asleep, having heard and seen you do it numerous times before.

Over in Killarney, many years ago My mother sang a song to me in tones so sweet and low Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way And I’d give the world if she could sing that song to me this day

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don’t you cry Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, it’s an Irish lullaby

The small child started to calm down but began to squirm, not use to the rough, callous fingers trying to brush her soft skin. Shay could see that she was relaxing as he continued on, a rare smile forming on his face, something that could easily be seen on his daughter’s face.

Oft in dreams I wander to that cot again I feel her arms a-hugging me As when she held me then And I hear her voice a-hummin’ to me as in the days of yore when she used to rock me fast asleep outside the cabin door

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don’t you cry Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, it’s an Irish lullaby

(d/n)’s little brown eyes were soon closed, yawning as she was nestled in just right. Shay was about to put her in bed before a female voice turned his attention to the doorway, finding the love of his life leaning against the frame. “I knew you were good at singin’ with your shanties but that, that was impressive.”

“(y/n),” Shay mumbled, walking over to you, his face unchanged but you could spot the relief in his eyes over your safe return, “I didn’t expect you to be back this soon.”

“I can be full of surprises,” you couldn’t help but chuckled, having watched the scene play out for the most part, warming your heart after what you had to go through tonight but you still had to give him a bit of that (y/n) styled sass, “I guess you’re still learning then, hmm?”

“You can be a rather big pain in my arse,” he whispered, not wanting (d/n) to hear that, not at that young of an age at least as he gave you a small scowl.

“But you still love me,” you winked, noticing that he had nearly put your daughter to sleep as you gently took her out of his hands, “I’ll take (d/n) to bed now.”

Shay could only nod as he left you to tuck the infant in, having gotten ready for bed and waiting for you to accompany him, a small smirk forming when he watched you walk in, able to talk back to you now.

“Still just as feisty as ever,” Shay commented, watching you change into your nightgown as raked his aging locks back to get a beter view, “How did a man like myself end up findin’ company in you?”

“When you first approached me, as I recall it,” you used, settling next to him, pecking his cheek as you remembered the moment, “Something about being the most beautiful women after the Morrigan.”

“Aye, lass, but perhaps that’s not as true anymore,” Shay shrugged, knowing his words would draw your attention instantly.

“What do you mean by that?” you answered back, crossing your arms as you didn’t know what he was playing at but you didn’t like it one bit.

“I have two beautiful women in my life now,” Shay couldn’t help but tease, getting a little revenge back from your snarky comment earlier, “(d/n) and you.”

“A gentlemen as always,” you mumbled, loosening up now as you motioned him to lay down, “Come, you need your rest.”

“As do you,” he reminded up, your duties and well as (d/n) keeping you from sleeping so you had to take every free moment you could to rest.

As Shay and you managed to tuck in for the night, you managed to nuzzle yourself up to his chest as you perked an eyebrow up at him. “Perhaps you can lull me to sleep as well?” you asked, curious and hoping he would.

“I’ll try,” he cooed as he hummed a little of his earlier song, closing your eyes as he played with your (h/c) locks, feeling his chest vibrate against your skin, changing with the melody.

“Shay?” you murmured, a pleasant smile on your lips, “I love you.”

Despite what happened between the two of you and your current struggles, Shay knew your love was genuine and his was too as he cradled you in his arms, glad that not matter what, he could call you his wife, the mother of his child, and the most important thing in his life.

“Love you too, lass.”