Assassin's Creed X Reader One-shots

Flirting failure (Connor x Reader)

“You can’t make me do this!” You grunted with great effort, digging the heels of your boots into an uneven cobblestone, pushing against it with all your might in attempt to prevent your best friend from shoving you any further down the street.

The incessant shoving and increasingly painful jabs to the bruising muscles of your back finally came to a stop, allowing you the opportunity to pivot and back away to a safe and untouchable distance. You cast an annoyed glare in her direction but it didn’t faze her in the least. She was determined to get your ass inside the tavern and there was nothing to be said that would ever deter her from her task.

“Don’t be such a sissy, (Y/N),” She huffed, giving an irritated roll of emerald eyes. “This is something every woman should know, now get your ass inside that tavern!” She jabbed a finger at the front door of the ever nearing tavern, the impatient tapping of her boot against the cobblestones making you grit your teeth, resuming your previous protests.

“This is an idiotic waste of time,” You grumbled miserably, face contorting into a look of disgust as you watched a clearly intoxicated gent stumble out of the smoggy atmosphere of the tavern, falling to his hands and knees and crawling pathetically down the alley most drunks visit if they need to puke their guts up or pass out.

Your best friend heaved a heavy sigh, hands dropping to her hips, “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be, (Y/N). As your best friend, it is imperative that I teach you all you need to know about the art of flirtation and the ability to engage in sparkling conversation so you can finally snare yourself a guy and quit being a constant pain in my ass.”

With a sneer, you flipped her the bird – not a very lady like gesture, but hey, that’s just your way. “You sound like my mother,” You grumble, earning a gasp of shock in response. “Why can’t everyone see that I’m perfectly happy being single?! I can lounge about at home without the worry of ‘looking presentable’, and can do what I want, when I want without having to ask anyone else’s opinion.”

Ever since the age of three, your mother’s ideology of women needing to grow up, get married, and start popping out babies by the year, has sickened you to the very idea of even being in a relationship.

“Nobody’s happy being single,” She laughed merrily, spinning you back around and continuing to shove you forward.  “Now we’re going to go in there, and you’ll take these lines I’ve prepared for you in advance—” She shoved a rectangular piece of paper into your hands, still chattering away in your ear, “—and you’ll wind up with a guy on your arm in no time!”
Despite everything, you had to admire her optimism. Reading over the childish scrawl, you raised your brow in silent criticism, waving the piece of paper in the air a bit, “What in the world are these?”

“They’re pickup lines,” She grinned proudly.

“Pickup lines!?” You screeched, almost choking on the words. “You can’t honestly expect me to use these, do you!?” What were you saying? Of course she does.

She simply hummed cheekily in response and before you knew it, you were now standing awkwardly in a smoke filled, stuffy room where the smell of alcohol, sweat, and burning meat assaulted your nostrils, making you gag and try to back out, but your so called ‘best friend’ barred the only exit. With a high-pitched giggle and half-assed words of encouragement, you were left to venture forth alone, seeking out some poor and unsuspecting sod to test your flirting abilities. None of the other patrons acknowledged your presence, except for when you directly approached a small gathering of men, only to wind up blurting out the fact that your bloomers were (colour) and scurrying away to some unseen corner of the tavern where you could die from embarrassment. This was horrible. Why the hell were you even doing this? It’s not like you even wanted to pick up some loser in a bar and bring them home to your mother, though at this point in life your mother would most likely accept anything you brought home to meet her.