#« han lives au. » //: 〝 THERE AREN'T ENOUGH SCOUNDRELS IN MY LIFE.

[unprofessional-bard]

Out of Touch

Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader

Warnings: Jacob being Jacob (aka a lot of teasing/flirting), just some grabbing around (nothing to explicit), angsty at first but ends with a slightly heated fluff.

Summary: Jacob has been your bodyguard for the past month under strict orders from poor Evie who had been dealing with your father's unnecessary worrying. Jacob is a rough, reckless man who killed and you were the daughter of a man who had taught you manners and raised you as if you were royalty. Two complete opposites... right?

Author's Note: Okay nsjdjdjdsjns this is basically a Han/Leia AU... I've watched the originals again and wanted to write a fic with their chemistry: a scoundrel and a princess - Jacob and my lovely readers 😚 And of course a big thank you to @marshmallow--3 for helping me when I got stuck while writing 😊💘

This fic is for readers of all genders! If I've written anything that says otherwise please please please let me know!

Enjoy!

"Ugh!" You huffed for the umpteenth time that day because of the boredom eating away at you. All you had been doing for the past month was to sit on your armchair in the library with a hawk watching over you. Or should you say, a rook?

A rather handsome rook at that.

"What is it now, your highness?" Your supposed bodyguard groaned at you.

"Would you stop calling me that?" You snarled at him as you pushed the wood in the fireplace around with the steel poker. The poker was dirtier than you imagined, which annoyed you even more as your hands got covered in ash and dust. "This whole being stuck at home thing is really getting on my nerves..."

Jacob gave you an offended look: "You've been stuck in a big, empty house with the most handsome man in all of London for the longest time, yet you still complain - unbelievable..."

You didn't bother looking at him as you walked to the door. If it were your first week with Jacob, you'd be gasping, throwing a book his way, yelling at him to shut up with his infuriating flirting; but you were used to it by now and chose to ignore him for the sake of your nerves.

You were born in London, but your family moved to Paris when you were younger and now, ten years later, you were back in London -not as settlers but as guests- with your father. Your mother had passed before you could begin your assassin training and it wounded your father deeply, leading him to cancel your training and keep you out of the "assassin" business. It didn't anger you before because you didn't care, grieving and moving on from your mother's passing took a toll on you and it took too long. When you turned 16 however, you started realising what a great opportunity your father had taken away from you and so you've been upset with him ever since. Five years had passed and here you were, stuck with a reckless assassin named Jacob, who's father was friends with your own for a long time until his recent passing.

The reason you were stuck in the house with the said assassin was nothing but for your own safety, at least that's what you've been told by a variety of people. How hard was it to put you in a carriage and let you sail back to France?

Too hard apparently. You didn't even really know why your father was in London in the first place. He kept saying "assassin business" and hid things from you, why did he even bother bringing you along in the first place?

"Remind me, for how long more will I be stuck with you?" You walked to the living room, Jacob right behind you.

"Two more weeks," he shrugged. "Why, bored of me already, your worshipfulness?"

You sighed loudly in irritation, to which he replied: "I bet I can get you to make those sounds with my-"

"Will you shut your gob?!" You turned around, eyes and arms wide open, shouting at him. "The audacity you have, if you were half the person your sister was-"

"Oh don't bother," Jacob spoke suddenly with a tone you haven't heard before. "I'm too 'wild' and 'vulgar' and 'rebellious' for the likes of you people, I know. Spare me the lecture."

Your anger cooled down and you almost felt sorry for him, thinking about how upsetting it must be to always being compared to someone, not better than him, but different. He didn't look you in the eye as he turned around to leave.

"I just wish that you'd cut it out when you're told to cut it out," you said quietly, not wanting to start up a fight with him. "Anyways... I am going out."

That made him halt in his tracks and turn around: "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." You said, determined. "I am going out and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Oh, trust me, you don't want to know the amount of ways I can stop you from taking another step," he said, still shocked.

"Well, I don't care. You either come with me or stay out of my way because I am going ou-" Just as you were reaching for the door handle, you felt your body being pulled backwards and pressed harshly against the wall.

"Good lord-" you gasped involuntarily. He was pressing against your body from behind, your face trapped between the wall and his face which was only inches apart from yours. "You make it so difficult sometimes."

"I do, I really do..." Jacob nodded as he held you in place but he wasn't hurting you . "You could be a little nicer though. Eh, admit it, sometimes you think I'm bearable."

A moment of silence settled between you as you pushed him off yourself and turned around, still leaning against the wall, rubbing your wrist: "Occasionally- maybe, when you're not acting like a rotter."

"Rotter?" He raised a brow at you. "Rotter..." he repeated as he very slowly closed the space between you two and gently grabbed your wrist. He smirked like the rascal he was as he carefully massaged your wrist - you both knew it wasn't hurt at all. "I like the sound of that."

It took you a short moment to realise what he was doing: "Stop that."

"Stop what?" He asked, confused.

"Stop that," you repeated, trying to pull your wrist away from his big hands; "my hands are dirty."

"My hands happen to be dirty too, your majesty. What are you afraid of?" His voice was low and it couldn't have been deeper.

"Afraid?" You tried to act confused as you felt the distance between you close even more.

"You're trembling..." he pointed out.

"I'm not trembling," you tried to chuckle but instead your voice trailed off.

At this point, he was towering over you: "You like me because I am a rotter... There aren't enough 'rotter's in your life."

"I happen to like polite men-"

"I am a polite person," his nose brushed against yours and it was then, you realised, he almost had you.

Just before he could close the little distance between you entirely, you pushed him off with little force and immediately went out the door.

Jacob was absolutely stunned at your sudden act and followed you out: "Oi!"

You smirked to yourself as you skipped around the streets amongst the throng of people, thinking that Jacob will have a hard time finding you and dragging you back home. Ten minutes were all you needed and before he knew it, you'd be back as if you hadn't stepped outside at all.

Well, you were wrong.

Just after three minutes of walking around the streets you finally took a turn and stopped to rest on an empty alley, but only after 20 seconds of freedom and starting to feel joyful because of finally being by yourself, you were harshly grabbed by your waist and shoulders once more and were pulled into a small cabinet behind you.

You yelped but a big, familiar hand muffled the sound as it closed over your mouth.

After you stopped moving and stood still, Jacob dropped his hand onto your shoulder and the other remained around your waist. Your back was, once more, pressed tightly against him; his breathing on your neck sending involuntary shivers down your spine.

"Let go," you demanded quietly.

"Sshh-" Jacob ignored you. You weren't exactly sure what he was up to, but it was starting to become suffocating in there.

"Let go, please..." you asked, softer this time. Although he wasn't pressing you down entirely and you could easily move out of his hold like you did minutes ago, Jacob noticed how you weren't really fighting to get out of there but decided to reply anyway.

"Don't get excited now," He whispered half arrogantly and half disturbed.

"Well, Mr. Frye, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited."

But your reply seemed to excite him: "I'm sorry love, but we haven't really got the time to do anything else at the moment."

Jacob let go of you just in time as some nasty looking Blighters finished passing by and stepped out of the cabin with you.

You straightened your clothing as Jacob growled: "Do you have a death wish? What were you thinking?!"

"Perhaps I do," you replied angrily but you didn't raise your voice at him. "What do you care? Other than getting an earful from Evie and your little gang of assassins?"

"Your father-"

"Of course," you sighed. "But you needn't worry, Jacob. If he cared about me even in the slightest, he would've respected my choices and left me back in Paris instead of getting me into this mess."

"But he does care about you, a lot in fact."

"Really?" You asked, smiling bitterly. "If he had cared from the beginning, I would've been an assassin now and we both wouldn't have been stuck in that cursed house for weeks! Maybe if he didn't wail as he does with everything and lost himself in his assassin business and actually cared for me, then he would've made sure I could take care of myself instead of 'protecting me from the dangers of the world!'"

You didn't realise the tears rolling down your face as you finished yelling at the once more stunned Jacob. After a moment of quiet, you began sobbing and broke down, falling onto your knees.

Jacob calmly approached you and kneeled down beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and putting his hands on them.

"Please take me home," you sobbed quietly as you leaned in to rest your head on his chest. He didn't move while you cried a little more and thought about how hard it must've been for you. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if he wasn't an assassin and he understood your frustrations with your father.

He gently moved and picked you up bridal style. You had neither the energy nor the state of mind to fight him about it and let him carry you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying his head in the crook of his neck.

"Hmph," Jacob hummed thoughtfully as he aimed his rope launcher to the edge of a roof. "Hold on tight love."

"What do you me-" you began but got interrupted when you heard a thwip, then a far away clang from above you; and just as you felt Jacob's arm tightening its grip, with a whoosh, you suddenly gasped.

In a matter of seconds, you were launched in the air and landed on a rooftop in Jacob's strong hold. How did we not fall?! you thought.

"Jacob!"

He switched your position from his arms to his back: "If this doesn't excite you, I don't know what will." he said smugly and just as you hugged his back tighter, he repeated the motion with the rope launcher and down you went.

You were surprised at how strong both Jacob and the rope was as it carried you across the sky, downwards to your house. It took maybe a little over a minute but it felt like more - and it certainly did pump some adrenaline through your veins. You shouted and laughed all the way through which put a different kind of smile on Jacob's lips.

You both almost fell over when you landed, but Jacob grabbed your legs and found his balance. You were right in front of your door, which made you sad as you had the most splendid time in a long while. When he let go of your legs, you only grabbed onto him tighter.

"What's this then?" Jacob smirked as he tried to turn his head around when you didn't let go. He could feel your heart beating on his back and it was still beating like crazy.

"Your grace demands that you carry them into their chambers," you demanded in an exaggerated way and smirked backed. "You asked for this, I told you to stop calling me those names."

"Very well," he sighed in defeat and adjusted your form on his back, then went to open the door. If this was all it took to make you smile, then so be it.

Jacob carried you all the way upstairs to your room but instead of dropping you on your bed right away, he somehow effortlessly switched back to the bridal hold.

Your smirk dropped from your lips as you noticed that you were trapped in his hold. He gazed at you for a while -your disheveled hair, your beautiful eyes, crimson cheeks that matched your perfect lips- and then slowly lowered you onto your bed, but as he did, he carefully climbed on top of you; he gave you enough time and space to tell him to stop or push him off, but you didn't.

Jacob moved closer until your noses touched and quietly asked: "May I have my kiss now?"

Without hesitation, but slowly, you lifted your head up and connected your lips with his in a soft, passionate kiss; he, however, immediately grabbed your face and pressed you back onto the bed.

Incredible was one way to put it, arousing was another, but you truly couldn't find the words to explain how utterly delicious that kiss was. Your hands were quick to find their place, cupping his face, his beard an absolute delight to feel on your fingertips.

Just as everything was getting more heated, however, there was a calling of your name along with Jacob's from downstairs.

"Damn..." you cursed, breathless.

"We'll continue this darling... later." Jacob smirked devilishly, he was as out of breath as you were. He quickly jumped off you while you called your father.

You both quickly fixed your attire and went out of your room to greet your father. A sour expression settled on your face, which Jacob noticed. He quickly but gently pushed you against a wall and gave you another toe curling kiss.

"Thank you, Jacob..." you managed to say when he detached his lips from yours. "For today- for everything, really. Much as you infuriated me, you also made this past month more bearable."

"My my, is this a confession?" Jacob said with a brow up.

"Don't get cocky," you pushed him off and went downstairs.

Maybe it was a confession, maybe it wasn't, nevertheless it would be better if you kept it to yourself, for you'll be on your way back to Paris in two weeks.

... But then again, you could make your last two weeks more interesting. He said it himself, you two weren't done yet - it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun and make this a memorable trip, right?