#jacob frye angst

[asilentnightt]

Angst is so juicy but I can never bring myself to read it because I know I will certainly have beef with a fictional character for the next 2-3 business days

[hoodedboy79]

Of Rain and Confession/Jacob Frye

Jacob's actually present in this one 💀

-(Male Prostitute Reader)-

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Jacob Frye was a strange man.

A strange man indeed, a man that wanted so much from you yet so little, a man that wanted you close yet at arms distance all at the same time.

This 'push and pull' type relationship you two shared was exhausting. It was clear to both of you that neither one knew exactly what they wanted from the other but you both chose to ignore it in favour of the fleeting moments of closeness you could share with the other.

Jacob's eyes would linger, but only for a second, as if afraid of what might happen if he allowed himself to feel too much. And you...you tried to convince yourself it was just another transaction, another job, but the way his presence unsettled you went far beyond any payment. It was the silence between words, the tension in the air, that made you wonder—just for a moment—if there was something more, or if you were simply fooling yourself.

Sometimes Jacob would stay a while after he finished, laying down behind you, wrapping his arm firmly around your waist and keeping you close, head tucked into your nape, like a lovers embrace. Yet other times he would be snatching his discarded clothes off the floor and tugging them on before you even had a chance to fully realise it was over, and then he was out the door, leaving nothing but a few extra shillings behind on the dresser for you before getting lost in the crowd of patrons that littered the place.

It was almost an unspoken truce that existed between you. It was easier to avoid the questions that hovered in the air, the ones that neither of you were brave enough to ask. Why did he keep coming back? Why did you let him? What was this thing that tangled you together in a way that felt both intoxicating and unbearable?

Jacob's inconsistency frustrated you, but it also fascinated you. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what they wanted, yet every interaction with him told a different story. When he was near, there was a tension beneath the surface, a struggle he could never fully hide. And when he left, there was something in his eyes—guilt, perhaps, or fear, or something else entirely—that lingered long after the door closed behind him.

It was in those rare moments when he stayed, his breathing steady and warm against your skin, that you thought you understood him. He was a man at war with himself, torn between desire and denial. He wanted this—wanted you—but couldn't bring himself to accept what that meant. Not for a man like him, someone who wore his identity like armor, who moved through the world as though it owed him nothing and yet took what he wanted with reckless abandon.

But then he was gone again, and the reality that you didn't know him, didn't understand him—at least not fully— hit like a ton of bricks.

And then you were off with the next customer.

One night, after another of his abrupt departures, you found yourself staring at the coins he'd left behind. It wasn't the money that bothered you, any shame you might've once felt faded years ago—it was what it represented. A transaction, a barrier, a refusal to let this be anything more than what it appeared to be, a customer paying for your service.

But you knew better. You saw it in the way he lingered when he thought you weren't looking, in the way his hands trembled sometimes when he touched you, as though he couldn't quite believe he was allowed this closeness.

He wasn't the first man to question himself, wasn't the first to feel the crushing weight of shame but still allow his pockets to be emptied into your hand, wasn't the first to try and run— both from himself and the establishment— but with Jacob Frye you felt the need to give more than just some shallow reassurance but you weren't sure if he'd ever let you.

Jacob wasn't the first but he also wasn't like the others who came to you in a haze of desperation, seeking solace in your touch only to retreat into the shadows when the act was done, acting as if you'd poisoned them. There was something different about him, something raw and unformed, as if he were constantly wrestling with a truth he couldn't—or wouldn't—name.

It wasn't pity that made you feel this way; you'd long since hardened yourself against such emotions. No, what you felt for Jacob was something far more complex, an ache that wasn't entirely your own. You saw parts of yourself in his struggle, fragments of a person trying to both claw their way out of and retreat back into the shell society had forced them into.

And yet, every time you thought he might crack, that the armor he wore might finally give way, he pulled back. It was maddening, and it left you questioning why you cared so much in the first place.

A part of you always argued that you shouldn't care, it wasn't your job to care, that you should treat him just as any other customer, but you never do.

The next time he came to you, it was pouring rain outside. He looked different—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes dark and wild. He didn't speak at first, just stood in the doorway like a man unsure of whether he'd made a mistake coming here. A doubt he always had when coming here.

"Jacob," you said softly, stepping aside to let him in. He hesitated, then crossed the threshold, shaking off the rain as though he could shake off whatever was tormenting him.

He didn't reach for you right away, as he usually did. Instead, he paced the small room, his boots leaving wet footprints on the worn floorboards. "I don't know what I'm doing here," he muttered, almost to himself.

"You say that every time," you replied, leaning against the bedframe. "Yet you always end up here." Always end up in bed, always end up regretting what had happened but still seeking solace in your arms.

Jacob stopped pacing, his shoulders hunched, his voice breaking when he finally spoke again. "I don't want to end up here. But I do. I don't know why..." He trailed off, his words dissipating into the silence between you.

You watched him, wondering how many layers of himself he had buried beneath that cocky exterior. Wondering if he'd ever allow himself to be honest with you.

"You never have to explain," you said, your voice low but firm. "But you're here because you want something—something I can't give you, not fully, not the way you need. And you know that."

Jacob stayed silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the floor, as if the weight of your words had struck him harder than any blow. He shifted uneasily, his hands fidgeting at his sides, and for a moment, the bravado he wore so effortlessly was completely gone.

In a moment of frustration, clearly with himself, Jacob snatched the hat that seemed to be almost always perched upon his head, his fingers repeatedly drumming against the brim as his other hand was pulled through his locks, gripping tightly—as if the feeling would ground him.

"You think...you think there's something more than this?" he asked, his voice strained with a vulnerability he usually kept hidden or had never felt before.

You didn't have an answer right away, because you weren't sure either. All you knew was that every moment spent with him felt like a tangled mess of emotions, but underneath it all, there was something real—something worth exploring, even if it was terrifying for both of you and almost undoubtedly would lead you both to ruin.

"Maybe," you said quietly. "But you have to let yourself feel it. I can’t do that for you."

Jacob's jaw clenched even tighter as he processed your words, and for a moment, he looked like he might turn and walk away, again. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step closer to you, closer than he'd ever allowed himself before, as if he was finally willing to confront whatever it was he’d been trying to run from.

The rain continued to fall outside, the sound like a soft drumbeat against the windows. It was a cold night, but there was warmth between you, a warmth that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now.

You didn't say anything else, not needing to. You both knew this was far from over, that there were still so many barriers to break down, so many fears to face.

But for the first time, the distance between you didn’t feel quite as insurmountable.

He was still a man struggling with himself, and you were still a man who had no guarantees—but there was something to hold onto, something that was just beginning to form, like the spark of a fire that might yet catch.

And for the first time in a long while, the uncertainty that usually clouded over you both—felt miniscule in comparison to the relief of being able to let go, ignore society's expectations and judgment even if only for a small, secretive moment—this was a step forward, however small, but a step nonetheless.

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Was originally going to give this a bad ending but decided not to at the last second and came up with this instead.

Hope this was decent!

[goddidntdothis]

The Fryes. Which ones?

[stranded-in-quantum]

despite being hurt herself, she only ever cared about him

Charlotte Crawford (oc) & Jacob Frye (AC Syndicate <3)

Jacob was first assassin I ever played with since Syndicate is my first AC game?? And It's very special to me <3

My friend encouraged me to post my silly ship arts anyway :3

please don't eat me :'(

[deadlysequence]

The tragedy of seeing your beloved Master falling into the dark and destroying everything they build together.

[aiza-luna]

ASSASSIN'S CREED SYNDICATE - SANCTITY: Nightly Haunt.

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December 19th, 1888

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Cold.

That's all that she felt, cold. The terrible weather in London that seemed to loom over her. It was December, winter was already at the door... The thick snow covering most of the streets as she returned to her home.

The Estate she ordered the build in 1874, named "Hampton Manor", for the water meadow located in it's proximities. A place of quietude located in Hastings... She wanted to live closer to the sea side, like when she lived in Spain, feeling closer to her home.

As she reached the door, she found... Odd. There was no servant to greet her, and the carriege she came from was gone. She stood alone, in the wintery night... A shiver ran down her spine, but not by the weather.

Something was wrong.

Shaking the feeling, she opened the doors of her house, the wood cracking loudly across the entrance. There was only silence.

No cheerful chatting from the maids, no chandelier and bright lights, or the preparations for the upcoming Christmas. Only... Silence. And a faint light coming from some weak candles.

- Ms. Scotts? Ms. Wilson? Mr. Briggs? - She called loudly, but her only response was dead silence.

Something was really wrong.

She walked a bit further across the entrance, but she stopped as she felt her boots stomp over something... Wet.

The soft sound of liquid moving and dropping echoed, making her frown.

- Pero lo que és es... - The Spaniard murmured in confusion, stopping mid-sentence, reaching out for one of the lit candles, grabbing the holder.

She placed it near the puddle she stepped over... To her horror. It wasn't water.

It was blood.

Her expression grew to shock, her heart sinking to her chest as her instincts went sky-high. Someone had entered her house, and killed one of her staff.

Her thoughts were running in miles per hour, her heartbeat rising... How could that happened?!

She light up around the puddle, spotting a cold pale hand flat across the floor... Ms. Carter, one of the oldest maids in the house. The woman was brutally murdered, her maid dress torn apart, her chest opened as her organs were spreas around her body. 

Her eyes stared at the grotesque display in front of her. She wasn't a stranger to death, but seeing a friend in such gruesome state... It filled her with revolt. Sheer anger and worry for what else happened in her house.

She started to walk over the house, stopping more bloody puddles as she walk, the very floors of her beloved mansion painted in crimson. She refused to look at the bodies, for now... She had to discover who did such animalistic attack against her staff.

That's when she noticed the staircase... A bloody trail tainted the blue carpet that was placed on it. The Assassin walked up in light and silence steps, holding the candle holder firmly on her hand.

Silently following the trail, with only the sound of the wind outside, she stopped when she realized the trail continue, down the hallway. A goosebump ran over her spine. That's wasn't good.

She continued after a deep breath, following the macabre trail... Until she froze, her pulse accelarating once more and her body turning cold.

That was her Children's Playroom. Her free hand trembled as she reached for the door knob, the creek of the wood was almost deafining...

... The room was pitch black dark, with no light turned on. She held her breath as she turned on the light bulb... And felt her heart sink down her stomach.

There was blood everywhere. On the wallpapers, on the toys, on the floor... A carnage spread for any poor soul that entered to witness. On the floor, layed four petit bodies, covered in white sheets, soaked red with blood, only their feet visible.

She felt the tears pouring down her cheeks as she rushed towards the bodies, sobbing loudly as she touched them over the cover. Cold. Dead cold... Her white gloves becoming stainted as well, but she didn't care. 

A aching pain ripped across her whole being... She wanted to scream, to cry, to yell until the air was gone from her lungs. She wanted to tear her own flesh, to sink her fingers on her body to make the pain in her being more bearable.

Her children, her beloved children... No Mother could stand what she was witnessing.

- Alyssa... James... Miranda... Leo... - She murmured, as she cuppered the face of the last body, her youngest son, Leonardo, over the sheet. - Perdóname.., Ay mis amores,  Perdóname... - The Assassin pleaded quietly in a thin voice, broken and filled with hopelessness, as she lowered her head and let the tears flow down.

- What a lovely family reunion! - A new voice said, breaking the mouring of the Spaniard, who quickly reacted. Turning to face the new arrival, her eyes wided when she saw who it was.

The young man with light brown hair and and blue eyes, wearing a dark cloack and coat, his physic towering over hers considerally.

- Jack...? - She murmured in desbelief. The orphan Jacob took under his wing, long ago. Jack Cohen, a poor boy from a family of Jewish-Polish immigrants, that ended up in an Asylum, being freed after the downfall of Crawford Starrick and took by her husband.

She knew that boy since he entered in their lives. He witnessed the birth of her children, she tried to look for him and understand him, like a mother. And now...

- You... - She murmured, her expression shifting. -... It's was you?! - The Spaniard groaned, anger building up whitin her, ready to explode.

- A masterful piece, wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Frye? - The man replied, smirking as she held the knife, caressing the tip of it with his finger. - This is what the Assassins are! The true potential of the Creed! - He exclaimed, opening his arms.

She clentched her teeth. How dared him?!

- This is not the Creed, you monster!! This is your twisted delirium!! - The Assassin stood up, pointing her blooded glove towards the killer, her eyes filled with rage. - ¡Eres un demonio! ¡¡Un demonio que entró en nuestras vidas y las convirtió en un infierno!! - Solange screamed in anger, but Jack didn't fazed, or stopped smiling.

- Strong words, coming from a woman, my Lady... - He mused darkly, his eyes filled with a sadistic glee. - I'm not sure Jacob is being very fond of your language. - The Ripper continued, pointing his blade to a corner of the room.

She didn't saw it when she entered... She could swear that part was empty. But now, it was her worst nightmare. Sitting in the swinging chair in the room, the same chair she spend nights breastfeeding and singing her children to sleep... Was now covered in blood.

Jacob was sitting there. His eye swallowed, his face bleeding and his Master Assassin uniform torn brutally. His chest was open, his guts falling over his lap, as his other organs were spread on his feet, followed by his hands and Assassin Gauntlet, his heart... Was right under her feet.

Solange let out an horrorfied gasp, one of her hands covering her mouth. He wasn't covered like their children... He was left to the naked eye to see, like a grim taunt towards her.

- JACOB!! - She cried instinctively, running towards him, almost slipping over the pool of blood. She leaned towards him, her hands shaking as she cuppered his face... His cheeks were ice cold, his skin pale with purple bruises, and his eyes... Oh God, his eyes.

Milky, opaque... Lifeless. His hazel-green eyes didn't greet her with his typical glow of joy and love, but only mirroring her reflection in an empty gaze, a dead stare. She let out a loud sob.

- Jacob, mi amor... - The Assassin murmured in another hipccup... Why? Why did this happened?! Why them?! Why not her?! - Mi amor, perdóname... Por favor... - She pleaded silently, hugging what was now her husband's corpse.

The Ripper did nothing but soft chuckle at the display in front of him. That made the Spanish Assassin rage. The Creed, her composion, everything was second-handed. She wanted him to pay for ever entering in her life.

- ¡¡MALDITO!! - She screamed at the top of her lungs, withdrawing her hidden blades, she charged towards him, pressing him up against the wall. As she would strike, he headbutt her, dizzing her briefly, before strincking a blow with his arm.

She stepped back, defending from another kick, but as she attack, her punch was blocked, and she got kicked in the stomach. The younger man didn't losted time and pinned her down with his body weight, the Assassin held his arm back, kicking his abdomen and rolling over him, moving one of her arms, but he quickly moved to grab her neck, pinning her down once more.

- Don't worry, Mrs. Frye. - He grumbled sadistically. - I'll make sure you go after your husband and children. After all, you have already left them alone with me, right? - Jack teased in a hiss, watching the Assassin gasp for air under him.

He raised his blade, aiming towards her forehead.

- Welcome them in the death, Lady Cotoner... And have a nice family reunion. - He commanded in a excited tone, his eyes filled with a maniacal glow.

That was the last thing she saw, before everything went black...

... Solange gasped out in panic, her body rising in a jolted motion. Her face was sweaty and her eyes filled with panik. She blinked a few times, adjusting with the lack of light in her bedroom... Only the moon illuminated her place.

Her train of thoughts were interrupted by a soft snort. As she turned to see her side, she saw a figure she immediatly recognized: Jacob.

Her husband was deep asleep, bandaged as his wounds healed in a slow but assured pace. The now trademarked eyepatch over his left eyes as he layed against the pillow.

His hair messy and the bedsheets over him. She let out a deep relieved sigh, placing a hand over her chest. 

Smiling silently, she moved one of her hands to touch his hair, gently moving his bangs off his face... She sweetly caressed his brown hair, a few strings of gray hair appearing, a sign of his stress during the Autumn of Terror.

He was there. With her. By her side, on their bed...

... Everything was fine.

That was just a nightmare.

Jack was dead, unable to do anymore harm to him or their family... But that wasn't because of her, but because of Evie.

It was only Evie, because she wasn't there.

It was Evie... Not her, that ended that nightmare.

She failed. She failed to protect them.

The Spaniard bit her lips, exhaling through her nose. She sitted on the bed for a few moments, contemplating everything... The mission on Morocco was sucessful. They managed to calm the tensions between Spain and Morocco, she herself had audiances with Hassan I of Morocco, discussing not only regarding to the Spanish influence on the country, but also about the slave trade still practiced within the nation.

Yet, still... All of this came with the cost of leaving her husband behind. Leave her young children behind. God and all Saints be praised for Caroline's good heart in keeping her children safe in Crawley.

But she only did so because she wasn't there to protect them, like a mother should... And that hurted. More than any stab or bullet she took while in Morocco, aiding the local Brotherhood.

With a soft sigh, the Countess got off the bed and silently walked towards the door to the balcony. Opening it, revealed her the chilly winter air, which made her shiver instantly, her night gown softly blowing along the breeze.

No matter how many years passed, she could never get used to the cold. Prefering the warmer mediterrenean weather of her homeland. Still, the fresh air of the woods surrounding the manor brought her a bit of comfort... It matched the coldness and guilty that was chilling all over her soul.

She stood there, near the balcony railing, feeling the cold of the wintery night for minutes, her gaze lost in the darkness.

- I thought you were a Hoopoe, Sunshine, not an Owl. - A male raspy and tired voice chimmed, breaking the dead silence of the moment, making her turn around.

Her husband stood there, on his night shirt, holding a candelabrum in his hand. His gaze curious and sleepy, as he watched her.

- Jacob... - She stated quietly, knowing the hour and the state he was in. -... Perdóname, cariño, ¿te desperté? - Solange inquired gently, moving her hands away from the balcony railings.

- You didn't, the bed just felt empty without you. - He replied in a soft tone, walking closer to her. - Sol, sweetheart, is everything alright? - Jacob asked, recognizing the look of sadness on his wife's face.

- I'm fine. - She replied calmly, flashing a small smile. - I just... Needed air. - The Spanish Lady murmured, looking back into the dark woods.

Jacob rose an eyebrow, visibly not buying her words. A look for concern still present on his features.

- I didn't knew people need to take a blow of winter air on their faces at late night when they don't sleep. - He replied with a bit of sarcasm, Solange smiled a bit more... Even after all those years, he was still as sharp as ever.

- I'll take you don't believe me, right? - She inquired rhetorically, he smiled.

- Not for a moment, love. - Jacob affirmed, Solange shook her head amused, but his smile flatted as he continued to watch her. - Solange, darling, we have been through this... Please tell me what's wrong. - He pleaded gently, reaching out his hand on hers.

Solange looked at him, her honey-brown eyes filled with a mix of emotions. Fear, embarassment, hesitation, worry... Everything a confusion mess on her orbs.

- I... Had a nightmare. - She admitted. God, that sounded so silly out loud. Almost like she was a scared child confessing to their parent.

Jacob looked at her puzzled.

- A nightmare? - He repeated, before he realized what she was implying, his expression softning but still had a worried gaze with his hazel-green eye. - Love... Are you still thinking about it? - He wondered gently, already knowing the awnser.

- There isn't a day I'm not thinking about it, Jacob. - Solange replied, her tone quiet and guilty. - If only I was here with you, if only I was here to protect the children... I left you alone with that psicópata, what kind of wife am I? What kind of mother am I? - The brunette started to murmur with a heavy voice, her grip on his hand tightning slightly.

Jacob moved to her side, looking at her gently. - A wonderful wife and mother, and a wonderful Master Assassin. - He replied with kindness and conviction. - You had to do a mission, it was you duty. - The British said, trying to give her some reassurance.

- I know. - She argued. - But that mission costed my presence here. It cost my presence when my family needed me the most. - Solange said, visibly frustrated with the situation.

- Solange, it's over. - Jacob said, frowning in worry at his wife's constant repetition of what happened. - Jack is dead, the children are safe. The Moroccan Brotherhood needed you and your apprentices from Barcelona. - He continued.

Solange looked at him, moving her free hand to his face, gently caressing his cheek, over to the eyepatch he worn on his left eye. It broke her heart to know Jack, that maldito beated him until his eye was swallowed... It hurted not seeing both his hazel-green eyes sparkling joyfully at her.

- I'll never forgive myself for leaving, Jacob... Not when you needed me. - She confessed in a whisper. - I failed you... Lo siento mucho... - The Spaniard pleaded in a thin voice. Her honey-brown eyes carried all the misery and tiredness that her own blame brought upon her.

Jacob's expression dropped to one of pain and empathy. Even after all this years, Solange was still the same: Keeping blaming herself in silence, dwelling on the guilt of her choices until it chocked her alive. He hated that, he hated watching her trying to take the weight of the world on her shoulders because of her sense of duty, as a wife and as an Assassin.

The Gang Leader slowly moved his arm around her, bringing her closer to him in a hug, his other hand still holding the candelabrum.

- Sol, my darling... - He started, his voice gentle but firm. -... You didn't failed me, and you didn't failed our family. We didn't knew what Jack would have become... And what would he do. - the patriarch murmured, his tone filled with sorrow and resignation over his apprentice's death.

- I don't want you to blame yourself for not being prepared for what we didn't knew. - He affirmed softly, feeling her grip on his nightshirt tightning briefly. - I don't hold that against you, neither do the children... So don't do this for us. - Jacob concluded, hugging her tighter.

They stood like that for a few minutes, despite the coldness of the night, their warmth protected and comforted one another.

-... Gracias mi amor. - Solange said in a quiet and soft tone, slowly looking up at him. -... Gracias por todo. - She continued, giving a soft kiss on his eyepatch, making Jacob smiled.

- You're welcome, mí amor. - He replied lovingly, caressing her cheek with his thumb in a soothing manner, his british accent heavy as he spoke in her mother-tongue. - Now, let's go inside and you tell me about that nightmare... - Jacob started, moving her gently towards inside the room.

- That won't be needed, Jacob... - Solange tried to argue, but her only awnser from him was a smirk. 

- Of course it is! I wouldn't allow a nightmare to be in the way of my wife's sleep. I'll chase it off myself, if I need to. - He replied in a more playful manner.

The Spanish Noblewoman couldn't help but smile, it was just like in the first years they have met... His humor and witty never faded, only calmed with time.

- I know you will, mi grajo tonto... - The brunette returned in a tender but playful tone, resting her head on his shoulder.

She may never forgive herself, but she knew that her Rook would always have his Hoopoe by his side, from now on, that was a promise she made for herself. They were two birds that would never leave each other.

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FINALLY.

I FINALLY DID ANOTHER JACOB x SOLANGE DRABBLE!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

Recently I have been seeing a lot of stuff about the Jack the Ripper DLC and it inspired me to work on this little scene! 🫶🏽

I really wanted to work on this since, unlike most OCs in the Fandom I saw, Solange was not witnessing the Autumn of Terror, instead, she was in Morocco, aiding the local Brotherhood in the amids of political tension with her country. (She is still a member of the Spanish Brotherhood afterall), so this lack of participation when her family needed the most took a tool on her, and I wanted to portray this guilt she would feel. 😔🥲

(This is also my way to explain why Ubisoft didn't made Jacob's wife appear in the DLC, although we all know is because they didn't wanted to give Jacob a Canon love interest.)

Although is not mentioned in the fic, their oldest son Emmett was in a mission in Wales, hence why he was also not in London when Jack started his reign of chaos. The only children mentioned (Alyssa, James, Miranda and Leonardo) are their youngest children, all still kids at that time.

Caroline is a character from "ACS: Sanctity", she is a maid in the Standford Estate and Solange's best friend when she arrived in London. In 1888, she is the Frye Family's Governess and Tutor, she was send to Crawley to watch over the children by Jacob, who feared Jack would try to hunt them down in Hastings. (Where their main house/ estate was located and Jack knew about)

I'm really proud of how this scene turned out! I wanted to show more of Sol and Jacob as a married couple, after all the events of my fic 🥹

I really hope I manage to give a taste of what their relationship ended up like, middle-aged Solob has my heart 🫶🏽

Well, that's all for now! Hope you all enjoy it! 🩵

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Solange Teresa Vivianne Cotoner-Frye by @aiza-luna

Jacob Frye by Ubisoft

Caroline Mason, Alyssa Esperanza Frye-Cotoner, James Sebastián Frye-Cotoner, Miranda Christine Frye-Cotoner, Leonardo Theodore Frye-Cotoner by @aiza-luna

Cover Editing by _We.are.Assassin_

Writting by @aiza-luna

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[b3k1720]

Jacob Frye, Even though I’m leaving ( Father’s Day song fic )

By Luke combs ( song fic )

………………….

It’s Father’s Day in some parts of the world right now ( not here in Australia) so I thought I’d write this one shot for those craving something for Jacob and his son ( I used my version of Jacob’s family )

@nemo-in-wonderland @ct-5445 @thedragonqueenfan @assassins-and-hidden-blades

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( 1875 )

It was sometime in the night when little Emmette Frye snuck from his bed and tiptoed to his parents room. The trees rustling and tapping on the window pane had frightened him.

At first he tried to wake up his sister,

“Hmm go’way” she muttered and rolled back over and covered herself with her blanket.

Once in his parents room he shook his father awake,

“Daddy?” Emmette whispered to the assassin startling the man awake, he reached for the blade he kept under the mattress but stopped when he saw who disturbed him.

“Emmette?” Jacob rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up from the bed carefully as not to disturb his wife.

The young boy quickly jumped in to his fathers arms as he picked him up,

“Let’s get you back to bed lad…” he yawned.

( start song )

Before Emmette could utter another word the assassin was already tucking him in to bed, giving him a goodnight kiss and starting to turn to leave,

“Daddy I’m afraid, won’t you stay a little while” he begged grabbing his fathers sleeping shirt by the tails,

“Why’s that son?” Jacob asked curiously now turning back to listen,

“Keep me safe because there’s monsters right outside” Emmette explained pointing to the window that let the moonlight in.

“There’s no monsters lad, you’ll be alright” Jacob tried to reason softly, trying again to leave.

“Daddy please don’t go, I don’t want to be alone…when you leave they’ll know I’m alone and get me” Emmette whimpered.

Seeing the genuine fear in his child Jacob took his hand and said,

“Just cause I’m leaving, it don’t mean that I wont be here right by your side…when you need me and you can’t see me in the middle of the night”

He took his son in to a hug,

“Just close your eyes and say a prayer, it’s ok I know you’re scared when I’m not here…I’ll always be right here” Jacob added putting a hand over Emmette’s heart.

( 1891 )

“Come father I’ll be late my carriage will be here any minute” Emmette called out to his father, now a young man he had been called away over seas for a mission on behalf of the British brotherhood.

He had just finished consoling his mother and promising profusely to write as often as he could.

“You know the brotherhood doesn’t like to be kept waiting” Emmette added as his father came down the stairs, the years hadn’t been to kind to the elder assassin especially during the autumn of terror some years back.

“Are you ready son?” Jacob asked as he looked at the one suitcase he was going to take.

“As I’ll ever be..” he replied nervously, there was a sick churning in his stomach and he wasn’t even on the boat yet.

Emmette wondered if he was ready for this mission at all…he had always had his father to guide him.

Opening the front door the young man saw the carriage pull up on the street infront of his childhood home.

Jacob pulled his son close before he could leave, wrapping his arms around his sons neck,

“Just because your leaving, it don’t mean I won’t be there by your side” he whispered holding back the tears that threatened to spill and the lump in his throat,

“When you need me and you can’t see me in the middle of the night”

Emmette tried to interrupt,

“I-I’ll be fine father-“

“Just close your eyes and say a prayer, it’s ok I know your scared…I might be here but I’ll always be right there..” Jacob added pulling away from his son, patting him on the back and sending him off in to the world.

( 1919 )

The telegram had come a week prior from old Aunt Evie in the countryside,

‘Emmette come home. Your father had an Apoplexy’ the elder man read it and his heart filled with dread, he took the first train he could to Crawley.

Once there he, his sister and Aunt Evie did their best to look after the old assassin. He wasn’t so spry no more and he couldn’t free run or fight like in his old days.

But unfortunately he grew weaker each day,

“Heh who knew a stroke would take me” Jacob whispered from his bed as Emmette sat by his bedside, Amelia was helping her Aunt prepare lunch downstairs.

“I’d always hoped it’d be at the business end of blade or pistol” he chuckled which turned in to a coughing fit which made the old man gasp for air.

“You aren’t going to die father…just rest and you’ll regain your strength soon enough” Emmette reasoned after his father had slightly settled, taking his hand gently.

The poor man was in denial even after the doctors grim diagnosis…he wasn’t going to get better.

“I’m an old man Emmette…I’ve done my fighting…I miss your mother” Jacob muttered tiredly wheezing, his grip loosening on his sons hand.

Emmette felt tears pool in his eyes,

“Daddy I’m afraid…won’t you stay a little while?” He felt like a small child again as he begged his father trying to keep him awake.

“It’s my time son…”

“I never thought I’d see the day I’d have to say goodbye..” Emmette whimpered.

“T-Then I did good..a father should never have to bury his son…”

“Daddy please don’t go, I can’t do this on my own..” he became to softly cry,

“You have your sister…and your children…look after your aunt for me..” Jacob reasoned rasping.

“There’s no way I can walk this road alone…I still need you..”

With the last bit of strength in the old Assassins body Jacob took his sons hand,

“Just cause I’m leaving, it don’t mean that I won’t be here right by your side…when you need me and you can’t see me…I-in the middle of the night..” he answered softly.

“Just close your eyes and say a prayer..” Jacob lifted a shakily weak hand to wipe away the tears running down Emmette’s cheek,

“It’s okay boy I’m not scared, I won’t be here…”

His weakened hand slipped down to place it over his sons heart,

“I’ll always be right here…” Jacob patted it and his arm fell back by his side, too exhausted now to move.

“Amelia, Aunt Evie!” Emmette cried out,

“Even though I’m leaving…I’m not going no where…” Jacob closed his eyes.

“I’m not going no where…” he muttered and drifted off to sleep…. 

[littlemisswriter]

Saving London - Final Part

Summary:

Sometimes distance doesn’t heal estranged lovers. There was so much to say yet only silence from internal conflict. But when that conflict turns into real danger, will there be enough time for Jacob and Lily to put aside fears and speak their truths?

Hiya, I have FINALLY finished this AU series with this final part. It is definitely longer than the others as it wraps everything in this storyline up. I hope you have all enjoyed x

-

Time had dragged on agonisingly slow, being a little over a week since Lily had leapt from the clock tower alone that night. She hadn’t been any less preoccupied with her gang or leads that aided her against the Templars, but that hadn’t meant her mind had been elsewhere. Her last interaction with Jacob had left a heavy pull in her chest that she couldn’t shake no matter how she attempted to remedy it. In the time apart, the two hadn’t seen each other, with good reason. Well… that hadn’t been entirely true.

Only after the second day of the encounter with a tremendous amount of overthinking had the assassin gotten restless. She remembers fighting back and forth between her head and her heart as she paced through her carriage on what to do. She left Jacob so coldly, and the poor man didn’t deserve it in the least, especially when he had opened up his heart to her. It did not sit right. So against her better judgement, she leapt from the train and made way to his usual patrol spot. Her legs anxiously taking her through the streets, keeping to the shadows with her hood pulled up to avoid recognition; and to hid away her turmoil from those that glanced over long enough to notice.

Taking higher ground was a better alternative, knowing it would inherit a better chance of stealth when all she had intended to do was spy. Having intention to do just that would make anyone think she was mad, but Lily had to see him, even if for a brief moment.

And she had, finding him stood alone in the alleyway with a few urchins scarcely stood around a close bonfire in attempt to get warm. The assassin crouched down along the roof, brows furrowing as she lay eyes on the man watching over the area; his eyes turning to the children every so often before looking back out onto the street.

He kept to himself mostly, not engaging as much with his comrades as he usually did as his mind was helplessly elsewhere. It was hard to detect his expression, his face hidden under another hat he acquired for himself, though his body language in itself was very telling. And the guilt that seeped into her thoughts was heavy, inhaling heavily as she soon made way from the area through the rain that began to set in.

That night days ago hadn’t left her mind; Jacob hadn’t left her mind if she was being completely honest. She had really left an impact on him. And herself too. Lily did her best to push through it all and remain her usually cheeky, light-hearted self, but it was tough. There was no denying that she missed gazing onto his smile when they were together, or how they reeked havoc whenever they visited the pub to share a pint. Most of all it was his company she missed, how he was one of the very few that could reach a genuine laugh from the woman, and somehow always finding themselves in mischief in situations they definitely should not be in.

Expressing emotions wasn’t one of her strongpoints, having shut off that part of herself when she was very young. And now she seemed to be paying the price. Growing up as an assassin was very lonely, the lifestyle was hidden under an oath as well as her true identity. And the memories and experiences she had were vividly different from those of anyone else, yet she had to keep it all a secret; a lesson she had learnt very early in life. With all that in mind, it’s what made it difficult for her to create any real intimate connections with people. Yet her heart yearned.

There was something special about that man, something that ignited a fire in her after a long time. It was a feeling that didn’t come to her often. But this past week had her realise that she could not deny her heart anymore no matter how hard she tried.

The rain was incessant and the days long. That type of weather usually brought her a sense of peace, and now it acted as white noise that she found herself lost in. Her body swayed every now and then as Bertha tracked another mile along the tracks. The carriage that she sat in was warm with a golden hue lit by the surroundings candles. Her body slouched back into the lounge as she listened to Henry Green, her ally and friend, stand before her and speak of another endeavour about this Precursor Artefact he had been infatuated with since the day they met. His interest never differed from it, always so focused on this so called ‘shrowd’ and all the relentless study that came with it.

Henry didn’t feel fieldwork was his speciality, but rather being in the confines of a room with his nose in a book. He planned and strategized; it was what he was best at. So, a lot of the times, Lily had been the one to venture out on his behalf for these findings of his. It hadn’t been all bad however, it kept her busy as well as everything else she dedicated herself to.

“-a material that speaks of something rather interesting. The Kenway mansion, the original home of the assassin and pirate, Edward Kenway, that lived here right in London over a century ago!” He placed the book down that he was holding, putting his hands on his hips as he sighed, revelling in this new revelation he had discovered. “It’s all rather fascinating, and I will need your help to find…” He trailed off, turning around to look back at Lily, though she appeared deeply lost in thought. His brows furrowed as he stepped closer to her, the woman not reacting to his movement as her eyes loosely locked onto the safe across from herself. “Miss Harvard?” His call was enough to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, lifting her chin from her palm as she averted her wide-eyed gaze back onto Henry. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Henry. Do go on.” She straightened her posture, sitting upright as to prove to her friend that she was now attentive. But Henry could see past it, slowly coming down to sit by her side as he looked over the assassin with a hint of worry.

“You don’t seem yourself, if I may be so bold.” Her demeanour wasn’t as well hidden as she thought. But then again, the assassin was quite perceptive. “Is there something bothering you?” Lily’s mouth opened to reply but she had not truly had an answer for him. So, she sealed her lips once more and glanced away, confirming with certainty what Henry had already suspected. “You know, it’s not best to keep these things cooped up, Miss Harvard. It won’t do you any good.” Henry knew she was bold and confident with most things, but it had become obvious overtime that important, more personal topics, were ones that she tended to avoid. He understood, but he still didn’t like to see his friend suffer so.

Yet she still hesitated, being close with the man didn’t mean that it made it any easier on expressing how she felt. It was not the assassin way. Not her way.

“You mustn’t worry, I am fine.” She attempted to deny his questions of worry with a small smile, but the man was not naïve. He could only give her a concerned look, tilting his head as if conveying the message that he knew her words did not ring true. And she knew he was a smart man, and to continue to feign contentment in front of him would almost be an insult t his intelligence. So, she sighed, dropping the façade as she leant further down into her lap, elbows resting over her knees as her fingers laced loosely together.

“You know I am always here if you wish to talk,” he coaxed her gently, “we can speak of business at another time when you tell me what bothers you so.” His words gentle and his patience astounding at times. But it seemed to be enough for the woman to concave, sighing as she took a moment, doing her best to rattle her thoughts together enough to explain it the best she could.

“I just…” She looked to Henry, the man easily sat waiting for her to speak her mind. She sighed again, “I believe that… I may have,” she looked down to her feet, “possibly grown affections for someone.” The last part was spoken quieter, almost like she was embarrassed to admit it. And she didn’t receive an immediate response which stemmed her worry, so she looked back up at Henry to see him offering a small warm smile. It had her blink back as she felt heat rush to her face at the confession. But she continued on. “But it’s all so difficult. I pushed him away.” Henry listened intently, as a good friend. “And now I’m tormented with nothing but regret.”

Her eyes slowly drew up to her targets on the board, each Templar tied to the Mastermind of it all: Crawford Starrick. It reminded her that there was an entire city outside this carriage that needed her, whether it knew it or not. A goal that she was willing to risk her life for in a fight against oppression. It was that simple, or so it had been. Now she was riddled with other prioritise other than herself, something very new to her. It was all overwhelming. Henry too had turned his sights onto the same thing, eventually looking back to Lily to see her mind whirring faster than she could comprehend. She looked lost and torn at the predicament.

But a hand placed gently onto her shoulder had it stop, her attention pulled back onto her friend. The two shared a silent moment, as if Henry was offering her a moment of peace with a reassuring look. It had done nothing less than confuse her, trying to salvage her thoughts the best she could as she had shown too much already.

“What is his name?” He took his hand back, the question unexpected. She couldn’t believe she had finally told him and that they were truly speaking of this out loud. Lily could have laughed if she wasn’t so pent up. Her eyes drifted elsewhere, and she couldn’t help but twinge a smile at the thought of the Rook.

“Jacob.” His name rolled off her tongue like silk, a reflection of her thoughts on the man.

Henry could see by her small smile that Lily had indeed held deep affections for this fellow. Her feelings deeper than she had realised, but to the watchful eye, it could not have been clearer.

“What a splendid name.” Henry nodded, doing his best to lighten her spirits. “You know, I understand that our Creed dictates us to disassociate from such feelings. I have even been told that having these personal feelings could compromise missions.” Lily looked up at Henry once more as he went on, “but I am not against one person loving another.” The way he saw it, you could train an assassin to detach themselves from people as much as you’d like. But the one element that no one could ever take away from you, was your humanity.

His words planted a new thought into her head, that maybe she had been looking at this all wrong; even going so far as being too harsh on herself. And especially too harsh on Jacob.

Henry wasn’t what most others would deem a true assassin. He was seen as softer than the others due to his hesitation of violence and fieldwork. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing; it offered a different perspective. And though she never would have believed it, her heart slowed as did the weight in her chest lift ever so slightly. She faced danger and even death quite regularly, so what harm would it do to indulge in your feelings every once in a while?

“Go to him.” Her eyes widened as he nodded, glancing towards the carriage door as if to encourage her to do so. “I am still gathering as much intel as I can on the Kenway mansion, so it can wait a little while longer.” Her expression was nothing short of surprise as he offered her his own kind smile. “Love like this doesn’t come across a person every day. And if you don’t try, you might spend the rest of your life regretting it.” That was certainly something she did not want.

Her gaze tore over to the very door Henry insinuated at, conflicted as she did so. But he was right. If she didn’t take this opportunity now, she might very well miss it. So, with a hard swallow, she stood up to her feet and released a nervous exhale before slowly smiling with one last glance to the assassin.

“Thank you, Henry.” With that, she exited the train. The locomotive was not near a station, yet it didn’t deter the woman, jumping down onto the open tracks as her shoes squelched from the terrain beneath her.

Of course it was now raining harder than before. But she was determined, pulling her cowl from her robes over her face as she made haste to the Strand. She hadn’t known how long she was running, but her speed never slowed. She was on a new mission, and time only slipped away the longer it took her to reach the man.

The sight of the usual area Jacob would patrol came into her vision, weaving past two carriages along the cobblestone which earnt yells from their drivers. But she paid no heed. Her heart race sped up as she turned the corner to the alley with expectation to see the Rook there, though just as quickly as it sped up did it drop to find him nowhere in sight. Lily didn’t understand. Her brows furrowed as she instead set eyes on another two Rooks in Jacob’s place; she approached the brute and woman adorned in green. They seemed pleasantly surprised to see their leader, greeting her as such as she came before them.

“Well ‘ello Miss Harvard, we didn’t expect to see’s you out in such damning weather.” The two genuine as they attempted to converse with her, however her mind was elsewhere so she kept it brief.

“Glad to make your acquaintance. Now, I am indeed in a hurry, looking for a Rook as it may. His name is Jacob Frye, he usually patrols this area. Where is he?” The assassin was quite direct, looking between them impatiently as they looked sceptically at each other. It was an odd request yet very specific. But they could see time was of the essence and neither wanted to face the trouble of delaying her any longer.

“He’s been moved Miss.” The woman spoke up, an arm raised over her head to keep the rain from her eyes the best it could, though it had already saturated her head to toe thoroughly, so the attempt was in vain.

“Moved? Moved where? Why?” She hadn’t known of this and certainly did not arrange it as such.

“Well, it was an impulsive idea it was. There’s been trouble in the city for the past few days and our numbers are dwindling, ma’am.” She explained.

“It’s the Blighters,” the brute added, “they’s doing their best to seize back the burrow as we took all the rest, we ‘ave.” Lily cussed under her breathe. She had heard of a rally within the city but thought nothing of it, truly believing that the Rooks numbers would outweigh the threat. And her mind had been occupied elsewhere over the past few days that she hadn’t truly the time to orchestrate something more efficient to deal with it. Now it appeared to be catching up to her. “Miss?” She snapped from her thoughts and offered a simple nod.

“Thank you. I must make haste, but do continue your patrol here and kill any Blighter that so much as looks your way.” The tone was loud and clear; the assassin not messing about. With that, she turned and made way from the pair. The order of violence condoned by the leader herself momentarily silenced the two, the female Rook could only nod in understanding beneath her hand as she watched the assassin become but a figure in the distance. Her sights turned to her associate, the brute looking a little too chipper by the toothless grin on his face. Her eyes rolled as she smacked his shoulder and turned, the man confused as he followed after her.

“What?!”

Lily came to find a vacant carriage on her way through the street, slowing down to turn on her heel as she commandeered it without second thought. It had been too bad if somebody had needed it, but there were other important matters at hand.

She whipped the horses faster, doing her best to navigate from one burrow to another through the rain, using her eagle vision as aid every so often to avoid running into anything along the way. Lily’s mind was solely on reaching Jacob. Still nervous to face him and express her feelings, yet now there was another dire matter at hand; his safety. Torn in her mind between how she would even approach him after everything she had done, and worried to find him in some sort of conflict that left him helpless at the hands of the Blighters.

No, she couldn’t think that way. He was trained well enough to hold his own. Besides, if she knew anything about the man, it was that he was stronger than he thought. His will alone will keep him alive.

At this time, she could only rush to him, deciding that she would figure out her confession later. It was as Henry said, if she didn’t do this then the regret would weigh her down for the rest of her life. Lily simply had to reach him first.

Finally, she recognised the change of burrow, coming into the city though unsure of where to begin looking. Going back to her training, when in doubt or stuck, retrace your steps and use the resources around you. Somebody knew where he was, and she needed to find that somebody.

Meanwhile, the rain in the city from Jacob’s view was all the same. His eyes cast up to the skies as he felt the heavy droplets splash against his skin. His hat and coat had done a reasonable job at keeping him relatively dry. His eyes lowered back onto the area ahead, patrolling it with two other Rooks by his side. They appeared at somewhat ease despite being reinforcements for this trouble the Blighters had been stirring. There was yet to be a sighting of a redcoat, but that hadn’t meant they were out there lurking in the shadows.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” The muscled Rook of the three spoke up, looking back to Jacob as the young man could only nod with a brief forced smile. “Who’d wanna be inside when you could be drenched out here instead?” He walked ahead of the others, acting as a barrier to scare off any enemies that came their way.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not, Barry.” The other Rook, smaller in size but just as reckless shook his head, his fingers latched together and sat snuggly against the back of his neck. His arms outstretched wide as he glanced over to Jacob as Barry chuckled. “Eh, don’t let him bother you. He’s a buffoon if nothing else.” He nudged Jacob’s shoulder with his elbow.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A light tease that didn’t reach his eyes. Luckily no one could truly see them. Jacob’s head was elsewhere that night, seeming to be unable to focus properly on his duties since his last encounter with Lily. The glimpse of her face ran through his mind, quietly sighing to himself as he remembered that evening at the clock tower. Though another memory came by it next, the image of his sister, Evie, approaching him various times throughout the week with concern of his changed behaviour. A twin could sense it like no other, and each time she asked if he was alright, Jacob had only shrugged off her questions. It worried her to see her brother so quiet; he was anything but and his lack of enthusiasm had been consuming him as of recent.

Jacob shook his head at the thought, pushing past it back to the present moment. He had relived that rejection enough; the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about it, let alone think about it. All it did was bring back those emotions. He was a Rook for god’s sake! He needed to pull himself together and let it go. He tried and failed on his own account; it wasn’t as if Lily owed him anything. She was his boss, that’s all it was.

The sound of a sudden gunshot was heard as it pierced through the rain. The three now repressed regret of letting down their guard earlier when trouble was near. “Stop, boy!” The Rook beside Jacob held his arm out, halting the two to a stop. Jacob’s eyes widened slightly as he lay eyes on the larger man before them. He had stopped in his tracks and made no response when he was called upon. “Barry?”

His head slowly tilted to the side before his body fell backwards. He was a hard hit to the ground, immediately rousing concern from the others. But as his friend stepped closer to inspect him, Jacob grabbed the back of his jacket to stop him in his tracks. “Don’t.” Jacob said, now on alert as his eyes stared directly at the hole in the man’s chest by the sounding bullet not mere moments ago. Blood had mixed with the rain, sliding down Barry’s abdomen as he looked up blankly at the sky. His expression of shock was his reaction before his life ended, and it was engraved into Jacob’s brain.

Then, another shot followed by another.

“We’re under attack!” Jacob yelled as he ducked for cover, the other Rook doing the same as he pulled out his own pistol. The sound of active fire became all he could hear, turning his head around the corner to now lay eyes on four Blighters that emerged side by side. It was a surprise attack, and there hadn’t been another Rook nearby that could be called upon as backup. It was now two against four.

They came into line of sight leaving the men no choice but to engage in a brawl. A knife clasped sturdy in Jacob’s hand as the first Blighter made contact. Swinging away with her own knife, the weapon larger than his own putting him at a disadvantage. “You fuckin’ savages!” His fellow gang member, now forced out into the open, shot openly though the bullets not seeming to hit the intended targets. The weather doing its best to cast haze and confusion over the few. Though one of those gunshots was met with a guttural groan, Jacob looking back to see his only other ally now following the same fate as his friend. His heart dropped as he came to realise he was now the only one left, and this woman swinging wildly at him would not let up her attack.

His head snapped back to her as she gained an advantage, kicking under his legs to have him land hard against the ground. Jacob groaned, not having enough time to catch his breathe as the Blighter began roughhousing with him. She jumped onto his chest, sitting on top of him as she attempted to violently murder the man. The madwoman screamed, trying to stab him viciously as he evaded her weapon every time by a whim. The rain and panic of the situation had done him no favours in this moment, and even if he were to push her off, there were three others waiting to snatch him up. It was nearly hopeless. Nearly.

He still had his own knife, taking hit after hit as he waited for an opportunity to inflict his own damage. So with a yell, he swung his arm around and pushed the blade into her side, another cry came from her, this one of agony as the weapon had imbedded itself deeply into her side. The assaults stopped, her body becoming stiff as he panted, pushing her off him and scrambling to his feet. He would have reached for the knife back if the other Blighters had not began making way at him; Jacob stumbling back now unarmed as he turned, running in the opposite direction into a nearby alleyway.

Hopefully he could lose them with sharp turns and tight crevices. His life depended on it. If he could just make an escape back to other fellow gang members than he would be safe to fight for another day. But his chances were looking slim. And then, impossible as he found himself at a dead end. He yelled out in frustration, attempting to climb the wall, but the rain had deemed it too slippery. “Christ!” He hissed, gaze than landing on his gauntlet as he promptly aimed it to the ledge. But luck was not on his side, the mechanism jamming and not doing the one thing he needed it to do. “Christ!” He smacked it a few times, half in hope to get the device working, and the other half in frustration that it had let him down as it did.

Dark laughs then echoed behind him as he spun on his feet, back against the wall as he watched the figures slowly come into light. It was like watching animals prey on their victim, enjoying the kill more than the feast. “Well, well, little flightless bird, are your wings broken?” One called out, mocking him as he swung a machete around. Jacob swallowed hard as his eyes narrowed, growling beneath his breathe as they closed in.

“Well if they weren’t before, they’re surely gonna be now.” This was it. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It only left one option; to fight. If he didn’t try than he was as good as dead anyways, so why not go down with a hefty brawl?

Jacob pushed himself off the wall, stance straightening as his fists balled, standing ready for what was to come. His show of readiness gained a few more chuckles, one Blighter slapping the other across the arm as he feigned fear with a dark grin. “Looks like the little raven wants to fight. Shall we humour his last wish?” Jacob stood in silence, eyes moving between the three as they slowly put away their weapons before advancing on him. He needed to remember the basics of delivering a hard hit alongside countering any attacks. And though he fended himself off relatively well for a little while, he had taken more hits than he was ready for.

“C’mere you!” One yelled, jumping at him a moment too soon. Jacob took the opportunity and grabbed him by the arm, twisting it behind his back before slamming the Blighter into the ground. It was one hell of a fight, and sometimes the man forgot his own strength until he really needed it.

If only Lily could see him now.

“You lit’le bastard!” His attempt was however futile, being knocked off by another, yanking him over and onto the wet, muddy terrain. A fist was felt over his face, inducing a loud ringing to start throughout his ears, followed by another. The action was repetitive and Jacob knew that this was where he was beat. He hadn’t known what to do, if there was anything he could really do.

But then came a turn of events, and the hits stopped. He blinked back, coughing from the pain of the blunt force, feeling the blood from his nose slip down and over his lips. Not a pleasant taste.

The Blighter above delivering the hits reciprocated that of his muscled friend earlier. Lifeless. His arms dropped limply to his sides as his eyes rolled back into his head as his body rolled off and onto the ground beside him. It startled the others also as they all gazed down onto the throwing knife now lodged into the back of his head.

The remaining two Blighters seemed alarmed, looking back up the alleyway to now see a dark silhouette standing at its entrance. Jacob’s eyes widened the best they physically could, his heart almost stopping at the realisation of who it was. There was no mistaking it.

A shuddering breathe came as he could almost feel a wash of relief run through him. His eyes shut momentarily, thanking the grace of god, or whoever it was, that decided that tonight was not yet his time. The remaining Blighters that once held the upper hand now stood uncertain at their new opponent, and while they had been distracted, Jacob attempted to pulled himself back to his feet.

“Who the bloody hell are ya?!” The silhouette never answered but simply closed the distance slowly. Each heavy step they took was deliberate, an element of control as their identity remained unknown. The mystery to who exactly killed their friend with such precise aim did nothing less than embed fear through their stomachs. Neither Blighter would confess it, but they hadn’t a need. You could hear it through their racing heartbeats if you stood close enough. “Leave now! We’re warning ya!”

“Clive… you don’t suppose that’s…” The man originally wiped off his feet by Jacob muttered, looking over to his friend that did not dare to turn his eyes away from the silhouette. “I’ve only ever heard of her. Not from anybody that lived to tell the tale-”

“Shut you fuckin’ mouth!” A hiss came his response as the man pulled back out his knife as he stood ready, the hairs on the back of his neck standing as his fists clutched tightly around his weapon. “You ain’t know who that is!”

Her pace picked up, unsheathing her hidden blade as she did so. Slashes of blood dripped from the tip of the weapon, as if taunting its next victims of their fate. It was in that moment that they knew, the infamous Rook leader now found them and cornered them in their own trap.

“Ah! To hell with it!” The brute swung his knife above his head and charged toward the assassin. Her calm demeanour compared to his friend’s erratic one was enough to tell all of how this interaction would end. He swung first, arm wide to gain speed and strength to his intended strike, though it was all in vain as it never hit its target. His attempt was unmatched to her speed, the assassin finally picking up into a run to gain momentum. There she easily slid between his legs, digging her foot into the ground to gain traction so she could spin around and deliver horrible slices to the back of his knees. He cried out in pain, his legs giving way as she stood, face contorting into one of anger before lodging the blade into the back of his neck.

“Christ! Clive!” A takedown seeming so effortless yet so precise, and the last Blighter standing knew he was next. He looked back to Jacob now leaning against the wall with a hand to his face, anger stemming through him as he yanked out his pistol and aimed it at the gang leader. His hold had been the furthest from steady however, hands shaking as she pushed over the brute and kicked away his knife. “Take another step and I’ll put one right through you!” She turned, unmoving before facing her body toward him completely. He swallowed hard. “N-not another step or I’ll end you right now!”

Her neck craned slightly sidewards, huffing quietly under her breathe at the empty threat before daring to take a step forward. The Blighter’s reflex was fuelled by fear, pulling back the trigger instinctively. But to no avail. The gun had been empty. His eyes widened as he looked at his weapon before bringing his sights back onto the assassin that sheathed her blade.

“Seems like you’re all out.” She spoke, flicking her wrist into her robes and pulling out her own gun. It was too fast to intercept or even process what was happening. There was a gunshot, pain, and then nothing at all. A perfect bullseye between his eyes; the Blighter falling lifelessly into the muddy ground as a result. Jacob swallowed hard once more as he pulled his gaze up onto the woman. His expression softened as she scanned the area; there were no more threats in sight. She ensured it was absolutely safe before letting out a breathe she hadn’t known she’d been holding onto; so cooped up in anger at what they had done to Jacob and her Rooks. She had let off a little steam in what came to be a small massacre. None of it enjoyable, but no less satisfying.

Lily pulled her hood down, the rain hitting her face immediately as she locked eyes with Jacob. It had been the first time in a while they stood face to face, and she could have only wished it was under better circumstances.

His face and body sore, more likely to ache later, but for now it was durable as he set focus on the woman before him. She made way towards him, side stepping the body as he watched. His stance straightened subconsciously as he pushed off the fence, wiping droplets off his face as she came before him. Jacob’s arms now dropped by his sides as he watched her scan over his physic. Lily was assessing the damage those thugs had inflicted on the man, eyes catching onto a few droplets that he had missed. They started down his temple and along his jaw to his chin.

There were no words spoken, Jacob still believing that Lily was actually there in front of him. It had been too long, and he didn’t know what to do or say.

But he needn’t do anything as Lily made the first move, not wasting another moment as she closed the space between them to press her lips against his. Jacob was in shock, feeling her press against him as she did in a way he had been yearning for. His brain malfunctioned, comprehending what was happening. Yet despite the cold weather, he felt warmer with her against him. He came to, finally processing that Lily was kissing him, with a passion that conveyed more than words could in that moment. Humming in delight, he shut his eyes as he kissed her back, his hands coming to her sides as he kept her close.

The kiss lingered, telling how much needed it was between them. Though Lily had been the first to pull away, hands raising to cup his cheeks as she looked over his face once more. There was going to be bruises for sure, but nothing that would deter her attraction from him in any way. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” She whispered. It was the first thing to come from her. Her eyes fluttered down to his nose where a thin streak of blood caught her attention, her thumb lowering to wipe away at it. He flinched slightly, her touch immediately gentler though he hadn’t let her open the distance between them despite. He wanted her close, needed her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Lily,” he shook his head, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She wouldn’t let him give in that easily. There was a need to explain herself to him, it was the least he deserved. “That night at the clock tower, I didn’t kiss you and I’ve regretted it ever since.” He raised his hands to hold onto her elbows, offering a form of comfort as she went on. “It wasn’t because I did not want to. I just could not let you because there is too much you don’t know.” She sighed, dropping her gaze from his eyes, earning a reassuring squeeze from him. “I just…” She lifted her head once more. “You mean more to me than to allow you to blindly get too close. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Lily-”

“Please,” she stopped him, “you need to hear it from me.” She was adamant to be honest and upfront before he made any kind of decision of their companionship. “If you want to be with me, and I mean, truly… want to be with me, then you deserve to know the truth. Everything. And then,” she sighed, “then you can make a decision.”

That was it, it was finally off her chest as she offered him every part of herself. Jacob looked between her gaze, cracking a soft smile as he lifted his hand to her cheek. His touch was exhilarating; her eyes fluttering momentarily as her hands ran down to his chest, still weary of his current condition.

“Look at me.” And she did, the man briefly pressing a soft kiss to her lips as he thumbed her cheek. “I have already made my decision.” He dryly chuckled, groaning as he did by the ache in his chest. Lily soothed it the best she could with her hands. “Truth be told, I made my decision the moment I laid eyes on you.” Her fingers loosely clutched his shirt as her heart yearned at his words. “No matter what you tell me, I’m not going anywhere. As long as it’s by your side.”

She was touched and knew that her feelings were in too deep with this man. It was all or nothing. And for that reason, she quite liked the sound of it.

“All right, Jacob Frye,” she mused, finally cracking a small smile of her own, “let us get out of this weather. There should be cover nearby.” Lily lowered her arms and went to step away, but Jacob grabbed her wrists softly and stepped forward closing the gap. He stole yet another kiss from the assassin, doing his best to make up for the one he had lost all those nights ago with as many as he could now. And Lily could only smile, her chest no longer heavy as she pressed into Jacob’s arms.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Just a Kiss This Christmas. . . 🎄☃️

(Christmas Eve with Your Faves - Assassin's Creed III, Rogue and Syndicate Edition)

Plot; Little Christmas themed comfort imagines

Pairings;

Haytham Kenway x Reader (Romantic)

Connor Kenway (Ratonhnhaké:ton) x Reader (Romantic)

Shay Cormac x Reader (Romantic)

Liam O'Brien x Reader (Romantic)

Jacob Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Evie Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Lydia Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, tooth-rotting fluff, a pinch of angst here and there, implied smut, mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, mentions of war/warzones and violence

_______________________________________

Haytham Kenway

Outside the fogged windows, gentle snowfall was on display. Winds rustled the trees and laughter echoed in the streets.

Houses lined the roads, warmed with crackling fires and the mirth of togetherness and peace. Taverns bustled with those celebrating the coming of what was considered the best holiday of the year, cheerful music floating in the chill of the winter air.

The perfect Christmas Eve.

Your heart was soaring, not sparing a care to the coldness of the floorboards and tiling beneath your feet; finding yourself warmed by the fires of the oven.

The smell of spices floated through the halls of your home, your freshly baked gingerbread now cooling on a rack. It was an effort not to pull the scalding biscuits from the metal, to devour them immediately; but your focus on your brewing hot chocolate stole any chance of impulse.

Your lips curled up at the lightly thickened milk, stirring at your homemade concoction. Now having the desired consistency, you poured the rich beverage into two mugs, sparing a look over your shoulder.

A sigh passed through your nostrils, spying the time displayed on the wall clock. Thirty minutes past the ninth hour. With a soft loneliness tugging at your heart, you pondered how much longer it would be until Haytham retreated from his office.

Templar affairs had kept him occupied for many days and hours throughout the holiday season, as to be expected when being the Grandmaster of the Colonial. But, you knew that Christmas was one of the few occasions Haytham liked, also aware of how easily time got away from him when occupied with work. He had already missed the Templar Christmas Eve party over in the local tavern, but he would not miss an evening with you. Christmas Eve, especially.

Templar business be damned. It was up to you to save him from his undoubtedly large workload.

The hot chocolate would undoubtedly be a convincing point. Aside from yourself, of course.

Already in your nightdress, you discarded your apron and threw on your winter robes for your journey upstairs, baring an almost giddy smile whilst you climbed them.

You spied the dim lights from under the wooden door, moving to open it without knocking. "Grandmaster", you announced yourself, his head raising from the piles of parchment littered on his desk. His piercing blues were on you in an instant, already tracing over your approaching form with a cocked brow.

"You have not called me by that title since the days before our courtship", Haytham remarked with some amusement, the corners of his lips faintly curling upward. "And even then, you had little regard for it".

"What makes you think that has changed?", you quipped with a laugh. "I had to get your attention somehow. My baking clearly wasn't enough".

His smile grew at your ploy of feigning hurt, your eyes drifting to the words upon the papers. Correspondences from all corners of the world, all of them bearing the seal of the Templars. Did no one in the Order celebrate Christmas??

"My deepest apologies", Haytham crooned with the licks of playful sarcasm dancing in his velvet voice. "However will I make up for such an indiscretion?".

With mischief twinkling in your keen eyes, you grinned, lifting the hem of your nightdress to allow yourself to be seated upon and stradling his larger thighs.

Haytham's quill and papers were long forgotten as his warm hands moved to hold your waist, fingers tracing imaginary patterns into the thin materials separating you both and heating the skin beneath.

Admiration glittered in the depths of his gaze as it trailed over the cascading waves of your hair and the supple skin left exposed by your strappy nightdress and robes, those eyes no longer harsh or commanding. No longer the eyes of the Grandmaster everyone else knew.

There was a softness and vulnerability to Haytham's hues now, clearly displaying his contentment in being trapped within your embrace. A deep sigh expelled from him, relishing in the way your delicate fingers spindled into his silken locks and drew lines over his chest. "Can you think of nothing?", your words were a murmur over his skin, setting it alight with goosebumps.

With his tired eyes now closed, your lips pressed featherlight kisses to his heavy eyelids, his arms pulling you flush against his chest. Descending the curviture of his face, your lips finally met with his own in soft and lazy caresses.

Haytham's hands moved to cradle your face, his tongue drawing along the seam of your lips before they parted eagerly. Your hips shifted against his own in your attempt to get closer, a soft grunt heaving from the Grandmaster's throat and sparking his next course of action.

A small yelp passed through your interlocked lips when the Master Templar heaved you from his lap and onto his desk, the piling letters now sweeping to the floor to accommodate your presence.

Your body arched into his frame, his lips tearing from your own to start leaving a searing trail along your jaw.

"I can think of something ", he mused, pressing his hips into your own.

"Haytham!", you giggled, his skillful touches never failing to leave you weak and at his mercy. "What about the hot chocolate??".

Haytham's low chuckle was a breath against the skin of your neck. "I think you'll find that I have other priorities", his voice remained a sultry whisper, slowly working affectionate pecks towards your naval. "Starting with you ".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Connor Kenway / Ratonhnhaké:ton

"Connor, my friend!", Norris greeted the young Assassin, tipsy with the few drinks he'd had. But, he was a merry man, deep in the high spirits of the holiday season. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

"Norris", he nodded in acknowledgement, sparing the hints of a smile for his friend, the latter having spied the direction in which the younger man's almond hues had fixated.

With a cheerful smile that reached his eyes, the miner brushed his elbow against Connor's, "Your eyes bore into a beautiful woman, and yet you waste the night lingering here in the shadows instead of talking to her".

Connor's cheeks grew hot at the accusation, his lashes fluttering and ripping his gaze from where you stood amongst the crowds of the party. "I don't know what you are implying".

Norris' gaze turned knowingly to the younger man, his brows raised, "You do not? Then perhaps, you will not mind it if I tell her—".

"Norris", Connor warned, an underlying threat sitting in his brown hues. The older man sighed, his smile refusing to dissipate even in the wake of his counterpart's intimidation.

"Why not talk to her?? Mingle with the party!", he insisted, waving his arms to gesture to the warm atmosphere of the gathering.

"I am not one for celebrations", the young Assassin replied with a tug to his shoulders. "I would much rather watch others making merry".

"And miss all the fun? An opportunity to speak to (Y/n)??", Norris gaped. "Inacceptable!".

"What would you have me do?", Connor asked with a sense of hopelessness. "I have nothing to offer her but an absent partner and a broken heart! I have not the time to court a woman as wonderful as her". He spared a glance to where you stood once more with Miriam, his heart squeezing at the beauty of your laugh. The placement of your dimples and the way the light of your happiness always met with the warmth of your eyes, his own returning to Norris. "Even if I wanted to, with every fibre of my heart".

The Frenchman nodded, understanding the feathersoft yearning that twinkled in Connor's deep gaze. Alike to the one he used to have for Miriam before their marriage.

"Connor", he sighed. "I am certain a woman like (Y/n) would have considered all of these things beforehand! She is headstrong". His smile grew when adding, "The way I hear it from Miriam, (Y/n) hardly ceases singing praise about you".

Connor's heart stilled, his brows drawing together amidst his surprise. "She speaks about me??".

" 'Gushing', is probably a proper word for it, my friend. Women do that when they are en transe by a man, no??".

"I believe so??", Connor's reply came out more like a question than a statement.

"Then why wait in the shadows any longer?", Norris pressed. "Eventually, another man will seize the opportunity to sweep (Y/n) off her feet!". The young Assassin felt a short sting of envy in his chest, his eyes drifting downward. "Do not let yourself feel the regret by not acting now. She is the woman of your dreams, Connor. You deserve that much".

Norris gently clapped Connor's larger shoulder whilst the latter mulled over his friend's wise words, not realising the truth of them until now.

If he were to wait any longer, another man would surely take the opportunity to win your heart. Any sane man would. You were truly a beautiful individual.

You have a selfless heart and a ready mind, encompassing all in your warmth and compassion, inclusive of Connor himself.

Every soft touch of your hands brushing his or holding his arm, every embrace shared after returning from his months away had ensnared his heart, melting away the hardened exterior he often wore. You'd broken through it all with patience, listening to his inner expressions without judgement.

He knew then, that he needed to give your relationship a chance. Even if the price was hurt.

"Connor", your melodic voice snapped him from his daze, a friendly smile shining from your expression despite your concern. "What are you doing back here all by yourself??".

In alarm, Connor's eyes frantically searched for Norris, finding the space beside him now vacant. The older man was finally spotted beside his wife, raising both thumbs in encouragement at the Assassin.

"I just wished to be alone", he offered a quick excuse.

"Alone?", your brows creased. "On Christmas Eve??".

"I am not one for parties", Connor elaborated, his lips subconsciously quirking upwards to match your lighthearted expression.

"I understand", you conceded with a short laugh. "Neither am I, if I'm honest. I'm glad to be away from the bustle".

Leaning against the wall beside him, your bright hues spared him a fond glance whilst you added, "That's why I came to see you". Connor's brows rose,

"Really??". You nodded.

"I hope you don't mind, but I find your company soothing, Connor".

"The feeling is mutual", he assured. "Your words and presence are both a comfort to me, and welcome at any time".

For a moment, you seemed in thought, your eyes finally flickering back to his own. "I want to thank you", you confessed, irking a confused tilt of his head.

"What for??".

"For saving me", you whispered. "For offering me a better life here, away from oppression and struggle. Those things are now a fading memory. Thanks to you".

Connor's heart warmed within his chest, humbled entirely by your words. His lips parted to utter an insistence that his efforts were minimal and knowing this, your hand raised to halt the words about to tumble out.

A nervous, breathy laugh escaped him, unable to mask his endearment for you as his darker orbs travelled the delicate features of your face. Your hand had moved to rest on the clasp of his hands, the warmth of his fingers slowly intwining with yours.

"I am grateful for you", Connor murmured, feeling a surge of courage to reveal what lay in his heart. "You are a remarkable woman, (Y/n). And I consider myself very blessed to have you in my life".

His admittance left you at a loss of words, furthered by the gentle caress of the hand that came to cradle your cheek. Connor's thumb traced over your cheekbone, stilling the breaths in your throat before he continued, "I would be honoured if you would share it with me".

With his nose now brushing your own, your lashes fluttered at the welcome proximity, breathing, "Yes", as you saw fit to close the rest of the gap, your other hand reaching to grip at his hair when the heat of his lips finally reached yours.

They were supple, moving in calming touches with your own, like a summer's breeze. Refreshing and soft.

Connor's breaths exhaled against your skin and heaved in your sweet scent, his chocolate hues fluttering open when your lips had pulled from his own. You grasped the hand interlaced with yours, eyes halflidded given the closeness you still shared.

"Do you think Achilles will notice your absence?", you gnawed on your bottom lip hopefully.

"To hell with him", Connor grunted, his lips sealing with yours again before he lead you discretely from the party room and up the stairs to resume your celebrations elsewhere..

Translations (French to English);

Inacceptable = unacceptable

En transe = Entranced

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Shay Cormac

Winter was always a dreaded time within the colonies, with only the exception of Christmas for most people. It was a time of year that you often found yourself yearning for the warmth of a home and family.

With the stars glimmering above, you'd wished upon them all for what seemed like the thousandth time by your eighth year in life.

Upon the softness of the grass, you lay with company, the autumn coolness high in the air. It wouldn't be long until the snowfall now.

Your fingers sat snugly interlocked in the grasp of your best friend, tilting your head to glance at his philosophical expression, ever a dreamer like yourself. Two children, lying beneath the shimmering lights of the stars.

"How's your face feeling?", you asked with some amusement, Shay's face brightening at the sound of your voice.

"Better now", he answered, using his spare hand to brush over the small blue spot marking his cheek. "It was you, I was worried about".

"Shay", you sighed. "You didn't have to—".

"I did", he cut in firmly, his brows creasing in seriousness. "That boy had no business trying to take your hard-earned food. I showed him the meaning of 'respect'. About time someone did".

The brunette beside you squeezed your fingers, offering a playful wink to pair with the reassuring smile he offered, the gaps on display in his teeth irking you to giggle. "Thank you", you grinned, turning your gaze back towards the skies above.

A comfortable silence ensued between you both before you piped up once more. "Shay?".

"Yeah?", his head panned towards you.

"Do you think that maybe one Christmas, we'll have a family? Be surrounded by loved ones?? Have food to eat and the warmth of a fire?".

Shay's hazel hues seemed contemplative before he answered, "Absolutely". Your brows rose, keen to listen as he continued, "We'll have families one day and big houses and even comfortable beds! You'll see, (Y/n)! When we grow up, everything will finally be alright for us. I just know it!".

That night, you both wished upon every star for Shay's prediction to come to fruition. And with twenty years' passing, Christmas Eve had finally come again.

Snowflakes floated through the air, children playing in the streets. Windows were frosted and the familiar smells of freshly baked goods were carried through the bustling streets.

Merriment and mirth were upon everyone's lips, well-wishes being spread like wildfires. The city of New York was far from perfect, yet it was prosperous, even moreso with the coming of this beloved holiday.

The Morrigan had docked for the first time in months only a few nights ago, Templar business soaring in the season. It was a relief to finally be back on dry land, especially for yourself and Shay; the latter delayed by affairs of the Order.

Never more eager to leave them behind, Shay's steps were brisk in the inches of snow left on the ground. "Are you quite sure you won't be joining us tonight, Captain?", the audacious Mr Gist had asked, excitement lacing through his tone. "I hear that Thomas Hickey is going to try and scull five pints of rum this year, as opposed to his record of three". The blonde laughed at the quizzical expression offered by his counterpart. "It should prove to be quite a show, indeed".

Shay's lips quirked up at his quartermaster's humour, ever grateful for Gist's good spirits, before he replied, "I'm celebrating Christmas Eve elsewhere tonight. A promise to a friend".

Gist spared a hearty chuckle, nodding in his clear understanding. "Very good, Captain". There was a knowing glint in his eyes when he added, "I will pass on your regards to the others, so long as you will pass mine on to (Y/n)".

There was no hiding anything from the perceptive quartermaster, Shay noted before grinning at his friend when the offer to shake hands was presented. "Thank you, Master Gist. You are relieved until the New Year", the brunette accepted.

"It has been an honour serving with you this year, Shay", Gist assured him humbly, releasing the friendly hold.

"And you", Shay's head inclined, finally farewelling the blonde before his journey lead him through a familiar set of gates not far from the port.

The chill of the winter air whipped at him incessantly until he reached the doors of his destination. Somewhere he hadn't been in the longest time. Home.

He needed only to knock on the hardwood doors before they swung open, bringing with it, the cozy and fruity smells of mulled wine and hot foods.

"Shay!", your arms were quick to pull the Irishman inside, from the cold and into your warm embrace. He stumbled for a moment, being much taller than yourself, yet never more relieved to be anywhere else but your kind arms.

Your lips hit his cheek in a quick peck, closing the front doors behind him and sealing out the cold. Shay's cheek tingled with the heat your touch left, his lips curled into a grin of delight at seeing your own.

"I was getting worried that I'd have to drag you from the Morrigan myself", you huffed with amusement.

"And you would've", Shay conceded.

"Bloody right, I would've". Your comment earned a soft giggle from the brunette, your eyes turning again to meet his as you shuffled around. "Merry Christmas, Shay".

"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)", he returned, noticing then that the halls of your shared home were decorated. Holly and vines of green bush were hung in abundance, even a tree in the corner, where most of the month everything had been bare.

A sense of wonder had filled Shay's hazel hues as they travelled the dimly lit halls. This would be not only his first Christmas back on dry land, but yours as well. For many years, you both missed Christmas. The Assassins often had you both scouring the Earth for artifacts; and the last few years, the Templars had you both embarking on diplomatic business.

As you both were rarely on dry land, Shay provided you with a home for you both to share, so that you would not waste what money you earned paying off a house that you would barely use. It was the least he could do for the best friend who had stuck through it all with him. And continued to do so.

Although now, in your adulthood, it felt like so much more than just a simple close friendship.

"Like it?", your voice brought the Irishman from his enthralled daze, his own voice sounding far away when he commented,

"It's lovely. Truly". He nodded, offering a pleased smile to you at last. "I can't believe you decorated! And is that—", the brunette sniffed the air. "— mulled wine?".

"And dinner", you laughed, his face blanching.

"You cooked as well??", Shay gaped. "How— you didn't have to— why??". His head tilted, genuinely in shock at the kindness of your actions.

"Well, you can hardly expect me to sit on my arse and twiddle my thumbs for the whole three days I was off from work!". You grasped his gloved hands, removing the covers to hold the heated skin beneath instead. "So, I occupied myself!".

Leading him into the kitchen, Shay was further surprised at the sight of some carved turkey on two plates, still steaming from the oven. You'd even baked some seasoned potatoes, glistening with butter and herbs— and was that cranberry sauce on the side??

You turned to the Irishman's stunned expression at last, the latter's eyes seeming to bulge from his skull out of shock whilst he insisted, "(Y/n), you didn't have to do this!".

Squeezing his hand to offer him reassurance, you laughed again. "I know!". Your thumb ran strokes over his knuckles, your gaze timidly shifting around in your excitement. "It's just— we've never had a proper Christmas, always being away and all, so I wanted to do this for you as much as myself. I wanted to give us a real Christmas!", you confessed. "Just like the ones we always spoke about as children".

"It's more than I could've imagined or deserved", Shay breathed out, his lashes fluttering whilst he grounded himself. At last, his hazel gaze met yours, glimmering with the hints of something unreadable to your own. "Thank you, (Y/n), for everything. I know my decisions have cost us everything from stability to the things we wanted as children, like marriage—", his eyes flickered downwards. "— or a family, but—".

"Shay", you cut in gently with a note of disapproval, gathering his gaze once more. "You are my family".

A smile returned to your face, the Irishman's eyes tracking your every movement. Your fingertips reached upwards, folding a stray few strands of his hair behind his ear.

"Remaining by your side was my decision. Leaving you was not and is not an option for me". Your thumb ran across the sharpness of his cheekbone, feeling the growing warmth of his skin beneath your touch. "Those dreams we had as children— the Assassins, the Templars— none of that could ever matter to me as much as you do".

Leaning onto the tips of your toes, your lips pressed a featherlight kiss against his forehead, murmuring against his skin, "You're all the family I need, Shay. As long as I have you, nothing else matters. I love you".

With such a raw confession hanging in the air, Shay didn't let your close proximity break. His arms curled around your waist, holding you upon your tiptoes with his lips close enough to brush with your own.

Shay awaited any attempt for you to pull away, finding no discomfort sitting in your orbs when at last his lips graced yours. Every part of you gave in to the careful strokes of his flesh with yours, feeling their cold and tasting the salt from the sea breeze that still lingered with him.

The Irishman finally recognised the ever blooming strength of the feeling that had always been there in his heart. It was as if an epiphany had struck him in the electric feeling of your kiss, your words having sparked the realisation of why your close friendship had felt like more.

It always had been.

"I love you too", his thickened brogue fanned over your lips after the kiss had broken. Shay's forehead sat against yours, cherishing the closeness and mingling of your breaths.

"We do have to eat first", a breathy chuckle fell from you, mirrored by Shay's laugh whilst your fingertips tracing the sharpness of his jawline.

"Must we?", his pout was playful, fondness once again dancing in his hazel hues.

"Afraid so".

"It shouldn't matter, as long as I have you". Shay's shoulders tugged, his statement endearing until he added, "Because if I eat all my dinner, I get dessert ". Sparing you a flirtatious wink in his passing into the kitchen, your mouth hung open incredulously.

This would be a long night, indeed...

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Liam O'Brien

Life on the open seas. The salty air and biting breeze of the Atlantic a bitter reminder to you that you were far from the comforts found in being on land. Being home.

Assassin work never ceased, even with the Christmas season soon coming to a close the day after next. Christmas Eve had come again and you were surrounded by an endless amount of ocean that stretched to every direction of the horizons with only silence for company.

The hour was late, the crew of the Morrigan having set anchor hours ago to retire to their quarters and the seas were calm, the ship hardly rocking with the sway of the waters.

You should have been sleeping too. Being the crew's navigator, rest was an essential part of your job. To stay focused, to have a ready mind should your Assassin bretheren call up on your skillset.

It was for naught.

You missed the mirthfulness of being on dry land, being at the Homestead with your brothers and sisters. You missed the people rejoicing for the year's end, giving gifts and thanks for each other. You even missed the decorating of those silly pine trees and the smell of your baked goods. You missed Christmas. And you missed spending it with Liam, the quartermaster of the ship having always been a big part of your celebrations since before your time as an Assassin.

Every Christmas Eve, the bald Irishman made it a habit to ditch his duty of babysitting Shay for one night and spend the evening with you however which way you both saw fit.

Last year, Liam had taken you for ice-skating on the lake by the Homestead, as the weather finally permitted it. It also had something to do with the fact that you spent every day of that dreaded month whinging in his ear about how you'd love to learn how to ice-skate, begging asking him to teach you. How then, with you as persistent and stubborn as Shay, was he able to refuse??

The year before, Liam had barely made it to port in time, surprising you with his appearance at your front door in the evening. You'd felt so disheartened at the prospect of him being away from home, away from you that Christmas, that you'd nearly broken his back from the force of your embrace when you pulled his larger form through the door.

He never came empty handed, although you always insisted upon it.

"You're giving me the best meal I've had in months, Love", he'd say with a laugh. "Least I can do is give y' something for the trouble".

Liam would gift you trinkets he'd find at sea or on missions and although your respective careers as Assassins allowed little time for feelings or emotions, something about Liam makes every trouble feel small and any place feel like home.

You were relieved to be travelling with him and Shay this year, the bald Irishman having sung praise about your navigational expertise— one that could rival Chevalier's. And despite being no closer to the mission's end, you missed the intimacy of your traditions with your dearest friend who was undoubtedly sleeping soundly.

Or so you'd thought.

"What's this then?", Liam's voice startled you from your daze. "Sorry", he apologised with a soft laugh, moving to lean on the ship's railing alongside you.

"Can't sleep?", your question made him grin.

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you that?". His amused expression quickly morphed into one of concern. "What's got y' so troubled?".

"It's Christmas Eve", your reply confused him, before you elaborated. "And look where we are. No land for miles, just water".

"I never knew being at sea would bother you so much", his brows drew together. "It can be hard, being so isolated. I can always ask Shay to—".

"It's not that, Liam".

"Then what?", his question was paired with a light tilting of his head, green hues fixed on you with that same gentle and attentive nature.

"There's no traditions or fun this year. No break from our work— we just don't stop. Every year, we always found something new to do, but it never mattered to me what we did. We always had each other, Liam. And maybe, just maybe, I—".

"Miss it?", he finished, coaxing something of a sheepish nod from you.

Darting up from the clasp of your hands, your gaze met Liam's, something fond and understanding in the way his lips curled into that crooked and beloved smile.

Hues of blue, purple and green suddenly illuminated his face in a heavenly symphony of colours and lights, stealing the breath from your lungs as your gazes travelled upward in realisation.

For the first time in your months on the sea, the Aurora Borealis made herself known to the only two beings awake on the ocean, dancing in many waves across the glittering skies.

"Come now", Liam said gathering your immediate attention when extending a palm to you. "I think we've found our fun for this year".

The warmth of his hand quickly enveloped yours, beckoning you near with the lightest of tugs. Your mingling breaths misted in the cold, your being craving the heat that endlessly radiated from the male before you.

Just like your dance on the ice the previous year, Liam lead you carefully by the small of your back into a soft waltz, the world around you slowly spinning in colours and ribbons of light from the heavens, with him at its heart.

The Irishman shared in your gleeful laughter as you both spun and gradually forgot the rhythm of the dance, all the while clinging to each other's hands.

Your bodies became tangled and giggling messes as you both struggled to hold the other upright in an embrace that finalised your dance with Liam. His head panned to yours resting softly on his shoulder, breathless and grinning ear to ear. Flushed from the cold and looking at him like he'd placed the stars themselves into the heavens.

"I think I've found our tradition for every year", you whispered.

His brows rose playfully, "Have you?".

Craving his warmth, you wasted no more time in hesitation, seizing the blistering heat of his mouth with yours.

Liam eagerly accepted the contact with a pleased hum, smiling through the shared movements of your lips as the years of tension fell away into something far more beautiful.

"I quite like that idea", his quiet laugh fell upon your skin. "We should definitely do the dancing again—".

Slapping his shoulder, you both shared in another kiss before making a move for the quartmaster's cabin, from which you would probably fail to emerge from any time prior to noon on Christmas Day.

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Jacob Frye

Snow cut through the calm yet biting breeze, a chill deep in the foggy streets of London. Your throat burned dry with every inhale, relieved to be out in the open air at last, away from the suffocating heat of the bustling tavern.

What else could you expect from a gathering hosted by London's best bookie?

Robert Topping had thrown together quite the riot for the good peoples of the city, the Rooks taking it upon themselves to make merry with them, ensuring that every man, woman and child that showed up left in good spirits and with plenty of food in their bellies.

Another few people passed you by on their way out from the pub, whispers of 'Merry Christmas' on their lips, reflective of their gratitude towards you and the many others that had contributed to the party and the hard-won peace that now flourished in London.

Since Starrick's defeat mere months ago, the people no longer came to suffer the oppression of the gangs that had once run the streets. All the same, you also found yourself missing the adrenaline of it all. The thrill of freeing the people under the Templars' noses, loosening their iron hold over the citizens— working with Jacob and Evie to undo each scheme that was set against them.

However, there was nothing you missed more than being paired with Jacob on any mission the Frye's needed you for. The younger Frye had a knack for making you laugh, his easygoing nature making him easy to fall into step with.

His witty sarcasm, his playful digs and constant verbal nudges to get on your nerves had all become much-loved aspects of your assignments with him. Now, you knew not what you'd do without them, just as Jacob remained unsure of how often he'd have your company in future.

It frightened him— the thought of hardly seeing you, after you'd achieved so much together.

As such, it was hard for the younger Frye to remain oblivious to your early departure from the festivities, spying your thoughtful expression as you'd moved out into the snow.

"Leaving so soon?", Jacob called unto your back, caught for breath when you turned to face him. Pure exhilaration.

"I am, actually", you spoke with a teasing edge. "What brings you here? Looking for a way out of Bobby Topping's drinking competition? He was keen hoping you'd be his top contender".

"He knows I don't have to compete to be his top contender", the brunette countered quickly. "And I have no plans on earning him a quid more than he already has this evening".

"That's a first". He huffed a laugh at your quip, before his features softened. Recounting the many nights you'd spent patching him up after Fight Club. Blooded and bruised. Kind hands cradling him.

"It's hardly safe at this hour", Jacob began, sparing a glance at his fobwatch. "And as much as I'd love to leave you to the street felons, I think a walk might do us good".

"Am I sensing an offer to walk me home, Mr Frye?", your brow cocked, masking the mixture of horror and excitement that suddenly arose within you.

"It's that or Evie's wrath. As much as I lack fear of the latter, I'm not in the mood to be verbally castrated when I return to the train tonight". The brunette swiveled on his feet, graciously offering you his elbow to hold. "It is Christmas Eve, after all and one must learn to forgive another's snide remarks".

The wink that followed had you giggling, "I accept".

The walk that followed was magical.

Holding to the hard muscle sheathed by his leather jacket, you basked in the warmth that seemed to pour endlessly from Jacob. A beacon of heat in the crisp winter cold as you crossed onto London bridge– now entirely devoid of any life. Naught but the quiet flow of the icy waters and the waft of the breeze could be heard, no voices.

"It's so peaceful", your comment irked a fond smile from the young Frye as his stride seemed to slow.

"Too peaceful, one might say", his contented sigh misted in the breeze, footsteps halting halfway across the brige.

Jacob seemed taken by something, his hues of hazel panning up into the sky— to the lonely lights twinkling above. Their sparkle cascaded down, into the fresh snowflakes that now rained softly from the heavens. Like stars falling to Earth, the frost glittering in the moonlight.

"Snow!", your mouth fell open in awe, squeezing his arm in your shock. "It's so beautiful".

The flakes danced around you both in the wind, clinging to your hair and settling onto your clothes, doing nothing to deter Jacob's playful spirit.

Your racing heart leapt as his larger hand slowly brushed along your forearm, fingers carefully moving to tangle with your own amidst the snowfall.

"Dance with me", he whispered in a tone so gentle, you'd thought him a completely different person for a moment. The mischievous twinkle in the heart of his gaze made you realise that it was quite the contrary.

Seizing the moment with the man you adored, your steps across the bridge turned into the graceful, yet clumsy movements of a ballroom dance. Your shared laughter echoed along the piers below, seeming like starstruck soulmates to any sailors observing from below.

Without missing a beat, Jacob twirled you into his embrace with the gentleness and playfulness of a lover in a private waltz that was completely your own.

The journey across the bridge was over too soon, leaving your cheeks red and sore from smiling so much. All the while, Jacob's hand never retreated from yours.

Sensing a change in the wind, the young Assassin's head snapped towards you with amusement and exhaustion marring his expression. "As much as I'd love to continue our antics with the stunning views atop Big Ben, I think it would be a good idea to get indoors".

Little did you know, he'd never been more right.

Chests heaving and hearts hammering, you embraced the shelter you'd both managed to reach. Your beloved home, safe from the storm that had suddenly swept north.

"That was fun", Jacob's comment irked a shake of your head.

"Funnily enough", you countered, managing a laugh amidst your gasps for air. "Outrunning a blizzard wasn't how I planned to spend my Christmas Eve".

All of the other homes on the street were now near invisible to you both, shaky hands reaching for the front door. "You'd be mad to go back to the train in this weather", you turned to the timid and shaking brunette, quickly beckoning him inside with you. "Stay the night".

"It's a pity that our run didn't keep us warm for long", Jacob huffed once inside your humble abode, relieved to see that you were already starting a fire in the hearth.

"We were lucky to get here when we did, though", you remarked through chattering teeth. "Make yourself at home, Jacob".

Nodding, the young Frye unclasped his hidden blade, shook off his dampening overcoat and removed his top hat out of respect whilst you hurried out of the room.

Hazel flecked hues danced the room, ogling at the cozy Christmas greenery that lined the walls, at the beautifully decorated pine tree that brought him fondly back to the days of his childhood in Crawley. Of standing on an old oak chair in the living room of his grandmother's house, eagerly hanging the baubles whilst the smells of spiced biscuits and fresh tree needles filled the room.

So consumed in the memories that made his eyes glassy, Jacob didn't see your approach, nearly jumping whilst you wrapped a thick blanket around his broad shoulders. There was instant warmth and relief in the way your palms ran along his toned arms, attempting to provide heat through friction.

"Thank you". There it was again, just like before. That softness drifting through his voice, so unlike the boisterous and authoritative tone he usually took with the Rooks and other associates of his.

Offering him a smile that brought a completely different warmth to his form, Jacob allowed himself to be pulled in tow, to be seated with you by the crackling embers of the dim fire.

Given the evening behind you, the younger Frye felt comfortable and confident enough to be seated flush with you on the hard cold of the floorboards, inching one half of the blanket around your shoulders for you to share in his ever present body heat again.

Restraining the shudders that threatened to wash over you, your head panned away from his, not daring another glance at the way the fire illuminated his delicate and sharp features.

"Do you want some tea?". You began to hover your numbing hands above the burning flames, his words of reply being neither desperate or commanding, accompanied with what appeared to be a content curl of his lips, boyish and sweet.

"Don't leave".

Jacob's larger palms reached out, encasing the chill of your fingers within them. Drawing your hands away from the fire, his own gently offered yours a massage, encouraging the blood to race back into them.

Steady fingers worked into your palms and wrists, rubbing together at a soft and tantalising pace, the hazel hues of his gaze darting up to meet yours. You felt pinned in place by them whilst he blew a stream of hot air onto your skin.

Nerves prickled in your flesh, entirely fixated by the proximity of your best friend. Your colleague. So intimately coursing his thumbs over your hands whilst he spoke,

"I know this evening hasn't been what you expected— Or what I expected". His lashes fluttered. "But, there's no one else's Christmas Eve I'd rather be imposing on right now, more than yours".

An amused grin splayed along your features, shyly adding a confession of your own, "I don't think there's anyone else I'd rather have imposing on my Christmas Eve right now. Or from now on".

The new and bewitching colours of Jacob's firelit gaze once again ensnared you, holding your own eyes through the length of his lashes. His mouth feathered a touch over the pads of your fingers, brushing another on your knuckles before he finally settled for closing what space remained between you.

Whatever kind grip that he'd had on your hands disappeared, allowing you the opportunity of sweeping them along the ridge of his cheekbone and into his hair whilst his lips grazed over the seam of yours.

A gasp ghosted over Jacob's sensitive flesh, encouraging him to take your mouth again in a kiss far more eager than the last.

The crease of his brows met firm with yours, claiming any of your coherent thought in the new and fervent dance of his lips. Caught entirely in those movements, you both easily forgot the cold around you, the blanket falling to the floor as you climbed into his lap. Into his arms.

Jacob caressed a finger along your frantic pulse point, continuing to tease the dip of your collarbone whilst he settled his hand above your heart.

"I think—", he murmured, hinting a kiss in his descent against the delicate flesh of your jaw. "We can beat this chill another way".

The vibration of your laugh only did much to tempt him, quickly taking it upon yourself to fuel that cheeky grin of his.

"Whatever you say, Mr Frye".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Evie Frye

Baubles and greenery. Holly and cinnamon sticks. Pine trees and the smells of roasted chestnuts being carried down the streets. Everybody knew what time of year had come.

A sweet sense of relief had set in with the peoples of London, just in time for the biggest and happiest season. Having only been a shell of it's former self mere months ago, the city was now alive and bustling with trade and well wishes. Content with the knowledge that someone was looking out for them. Offering them a hard-earned peace.

The Rooks, the beloved gang serving the Fryes and protecting the streets— were now making merry with those they serve. Throwing a riot of a party that Evie Frye was certain she was missing.

She paid no mind to the cheering and clapping on the streets this evening, content to let it pass her by, despite Jacob's encouragements. There was far more work to be done, far more to be studied on the Pieces of Eden. Templar schemes didn't disappear at Christmas, and Evie made it her inclination that Assassin plans never halted either. Too much was at stake. Or so she'd earlier insisted to Henry, who also— thought it best to have the night off.

For but a moment, her tired crystal eyes lifted from the piles of parchment on her desk, harping a thought of her very active mind on you.

Of the way you'd busied yourself around the train earlier that morning, piles of decorations fumbling and falling from your arms. The excitement that had flared through the depths of your gaze or the shape of your dimples when you grinned like a giddy schoolchild and the way her heart had soared with your laughter.

A smile ghosted over Evie's lips, unrestrained with the fond reminder of how your carefree soul never failed to lift her spirits.

In previous months, it had done much to loosen her hardened and strict exterior. And earned her a mouthful of teasing from her brother, who had wholeheartedly supported her curiosities of their best friend and colleague. Despite any and all disapproval she'd face from anyone else.

There was a tug of guilt in her chest, drawing her icy hues to the glow of the streets outside. You'd be celebrating, perhaps disheartened that your friend couldn't even make the effort to show. After everything you'd done to prepare. After everything you'd accomplished together this year.

"There you are", Evie suddenly straightened, instantly snapped from her daze by the intrusion of your voice. As if her thoughts alone had summoned you to the train.

"(Y/n)", the brunette turned to you, choked up with the image settled before her.

Despite your hands being clasped behind your back, your posture was that of complete relaxation, donning a dress so wickedly beautiful, it seemed as if the angels above had forged you.

There was an obvious flush to your cheeks from the cold and any alcohol you'd recently consumed with the festivities, but it left any of her previously coherent thoughts scarce.

"Jacob told me I'd find you here", you remarked with a cheeky quirk to your lip.

Of course he did, Evie nearly responded out of natural irritation, marking your approach. Noting the concern etched to your features, the waves of your hair drifting back and carrying the smells of spiced firesmoke.

"Why are you here so late? You're missing all of the festivities".

A long and frustrated sigh drifted through her nostrils. "It's the Templars", she tugged stressfully on a loose strand of her fringe. "They don't rest! They—".

"Enough", one of your palms moved to carefully blanket Evie's, instantly rendering her into a silence. "Forget it. Forget it all tonight. It's Christmas Eve".

The softest swipe of your thumb over her knuckles placated any argument, Evie pinning you with a pensive and tired glare before her shoulders slumped in resignation at your unwavering resolve. You were anything if not more stubborn than her twin.

Without much difficulty, the older Frye allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Sitting for the many hours passed had done little to aid her posture, leaving her muscles unnaturally exhausted of their energy and bones riddled with stiffness.

"Office work does not become you, Miss Frye", your giggle was soon mirrored by hers.

"I'm glad you think so. My bones seem to agree with you".

"Lucky for you, it's hardly the weather to be chasing down Templars. However,—", her brows rose in intrigue when you trailed off, finally bringing your other hand forth from behind your back. "— you may find the weather more fitting for this".

In one of your hands was a steaming mug of mulled wine that you'd managed to smuggle from the celebration, its fragrant spices drawing the elder Frye back to her childhood days in Crawley. Building snowmen with Jacob and cutting down pine trees in the woods.

In your other palm, there was a small and well-decorated box that you'd pulled from your pocket, patterned simply with a red ribbon binding the label which read clearly,

'To Evie.

With love, from (Y/n)'.

Offering both to her, you had the honour of watching her familiar icy blues change in their observation of you. Twisting with a fondness and mixture of shock that you'd never previously witnessed from her.

"Merry Christmas, Evie".

Moisture prickled in the brunette's eyes, quickly dismissed in the flutter of her lashes. "I can't believe you—".

About to placate her, you hardly expected Evie to cross whatever space there was between you, drawing your frame against hers in a kind embrace that nullified the winter's harsh and lingering chill.

"Evie, your mulled wine—", you tried to object whilst you steadied yourself with her, soon realising that you were perfectly safe and balanced. That her beverage wouldn't spill and burn you both.

The moments drifted in the comfort of her arms, seeming to end too soon when she at last pulled from you with misty hues.

"You didn't honestly think that I would forget you?".

Evie choked a laugh in the dismissal of her tears, "By my not attending the festivities, I thought that I'd given you the uninentional presumption that I'd forgotten you".

"No", your smile remained kind, admired keenly by Evie's sharper gaze. "You gave me the presumption that I'd have to drag you from your papers kicking and screaming. Didn't I succeed?".

"You've gotten further than Jacob ever has", she conceded, feeling the lightness of the gift being tucked beneath her fingers.

"Open it", your encouragement made her blink.

"But, it's Christmas Eve?".

"This one is special". You squeezed her hand in assurance. "Trust me".

It was with a slow apprehension and deep care that Evie untied the ribbon, lifting the shallow lid to the box in her palm. You delighted in the wonder that arose within the crystalline glare of her gaze as her fingers lifted the delicate trinket from the box.

The silver chain caught the light around you, twinkling softly like the stars under her scrutiny. Charms jangled, tied and melded into the precious metal with a precision that left her speechless.

"Did you—".

"I did", you nodded. "I learned from Henry. It's a lucky charm bracelet. I made its design so that it could also adorn your hidden blade, if you wish".

"I do, please!", Evie's insistance was paired with the instant offer of her forearm, on which you then fastened the glittering jewels to her bracer.

"I chose this colour", you murmured, tracing a finger along one of the stones. Pale blue and cut to be shaped like a heart. "Reminded me of your eyes".

Your gaze darted up, instantly catching hers. Like the striking chill of winter, or the bubbling streams anew in spring.

"Why did you shape it that way?", her ask was barely audible, as if speaking any louder would shatter any hope of a genuine answer from you.

"I carved it that way to represent my heart. My goodwill to you, Evie. To give you luck when you need it. Maybe, in the hopes that you might be reminded of me from time to time, if you ever go back to Crawley".

Your stomach twisted with the prospect of a possible rejection whilst the brunette huffed a breathy laugh. "How foolish you are, to believe that I'd ever be capable of forgetting you".

You swallowed nervously, feeling your throat becoming taut with the slow smile that crept onto her freckled cheeks. A realisation passed between you both in that moment. That this wasn't some fiction or delusion, or simple and fleeting curiosity. This was real. Fortified further by the gentle tug of her arm, slowly allowing the hand lingering upon it to fall into hers.

"You are far too entangled in my heart for me to ever let you go", she whispered, fingers weaving to intertwine with yours. "How could I ever leave?".

With the lightest pull from Evie, your feet stumbled forwards on autopilot, chest coming to meet flush with hers.

The cold that encompassed your lips dissipated with the soft breaths that cascaded over them, soon swallowed entirely by warmth as her mouth claimed yours. Gently, ardently, riddled with hesitation.

Your hands reliquished their grip at last on the mug, shattering when it hit the floor nearby, paying no mind to it whilst Evie craned you backwards, leading you to the couch just behind.

Falling upon the plush surface, you understood now why Jacob found it so comfortable. Evie blinked when her lips pulled from yours,

"Hang on, I forgot to get you a present—".

"I don't know", you mused, dancing a finger along the collar of her shirt. "I have a feeling that I'll like unwrapping this one much better".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Lydia Frye

"Miss Frye".

"Mr Churchill", Lydia acknowledged with a curt nod, fiddling with the bracer of her hidden blade.

"I trust, the mission went well??".

"Exceptionally", she nodded, watching the warmth of relief meeting the Prime Minister's eyes. "The spies at the north gate have been eliminated. Rooks now stand vigil. If we are to endure an attack, we will surely see it coming".

"It seems London is once again indebted to you, Miss Frye", Winston mused. "Is there not anything we can offer you in return?? Consider your previous request in the works. I have my best people ensuring that London will one day bear true equality to the women of our beloved nation".

Lydia was pensive, gnawing the inside of her mouth. Unable to ignore the pressure of the worries eating at her every thought.

Hesitantly, she pulled a letter from her green overcoat, offering it forth to a bewildered Winston Churchill. His steady hands took the parchment, sparing it a look only to whom it was from. "(Y/n) Frye?", his gaze darted up to Lydia's.

"She's an Assassin working to aid the front", the brunette elaborated. "She has written me one letter a week without fail since her deployment. It has been two and a half weeks, and I have no word. Not even from my best men".

"You worry for her wellbeing?", Churchill questioned with a concern similar to Lydia's. "There is a war on. Perhaps, the couriers—".

"I recieve these letters by different means, Mr Churchill. I am scared for her life. No one loves Christmas more than she. And with that on approach— I've heard nothing. Not even a whisper".

"I see", his lips pursed in thought, nodding in his understanding.

"Mr Churchill, if there's one thing I wish, it's for her to be found and brought home safely".

"I will begin an investigation at once", he assured her, smiling at the numbers written under your signature. "Smart girl. She has signed off with her last longitude and latitude coordinates for us, which gives us a good place to start covering ground".

"Thank you, Sir", Lydia released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"I only ask for patience and understanding at this time, Miss Frye", Churchill offered a compassionate smile. "Be aware that it is hardly unusual for people to go missing in warzones and this investigation may take some time. I will page you with any findings I come across. We will get your sister home, if we can. That is a promise".

"She's not my sister, Mr Churchill", the brunette nodded in her parting, lifting her hands to raise her cowl. Winston only had to dart his keen gaze to one of them, instantly realising the truth upon seeing the silver band sitting on her left ring finger.

You weren't Lydia Frye's sister— you were her wife.

Weeks had passed with no word from yourself or in regards to the investigation. Lydia grew more anxious with each day that silence claimed.

"Wipe that worried off your face, Lydia Frye", she snapped from her daze with her grandfather's voice pulling her to reality. "Your fretting is making me fret".

The brunette giggled at the lighthearted expression on his weathered features, "Apologies, Grandfather. I had no idea such things were contagious".

"I have spent days worrying over others. It does not do well to dwell on these things, Sweetheart. My heart tells me that they'll find (Y/n) and bring her home", Jacob sighed. "Evie and I trained you both. I know your capabilities more than most, as well as hers. (Y/n) is strong and forthright. If I know her as well as I think, she is fighting to get home to you".

"I feel helpless, Grandfather", Lydia's smile saddened. "All I can do is wait and it kills me to not be able to—".

"Walk in there, guns blazing to get her out?", Jacob drawled with his peppered brows raised knowingly. Lydia's mouth parted to speak, opening and closing as if in shock that her grandfather knew her better than she knew herself. "You see?", he laughed. "That's the Frye blood in you. The urge to jump into danger, without thought if it means saving someone else".

"You think that I should resist it?", she cocked a brow expectantly.

"No", Jacob's head shook with that signature Frye grin. "I ask you to use it wisely. Pair it with an unholy amount of patience, if you must. But, if it's one thing I know, it's that you and (Y/n) are blessed to have each other".

Lydia's smile flourished again, if only for one thoughtful moment, "Christmas will not be the same without her".

"I don't doubt that either".

Lydia returned to the big city, to her home in London in time for Christmas Eve after making merry with her grandfather over many days in the countryside. Always, his visits were uplifting, reminding her of her rebellious youth beside you.

Easily, she was able to recall your shared studies together, seated on the grassy plains just outside her grandfather's property. Braiding your hair and weaving friendship bracelets from daisies and forget-me-nots.

Your first kiss in the cool spring breeze, swearing yourself to her side. If Lydia chose the destiny of an Assassin, you decided the same fate for yourself.

You'd spent every Christmas together since you were both five years old. Now, you had quite literally disappeared from the face of the Earth, leaving Lydia beside herself in preparation for a night she'd decided to spend patrolling the streets during whatever festivities that were being held.

Refastening her bracer, the brunette finally relented to the idea of taking this walk in the open air, if only to forget the absence of your warmth in your now cold house.

Opening the front door, Lydia froze, sure that she was hallucinating. There, you stood on the frosty street, hand raised to knock on the door of your own home.

Your hair was messily braided, strands matted together in a mixture of ash, gunpowder and mud. Dark circles sat under your usually bright hues, clothes battered and one arm carefully cradled in a sling.

"(Y/n)?", Lydia blinked, her words no more audible than a breath.

To your sore and heavy eyes, your wife was a gift. Mouth parted, the glittering hazel in her hues growing wide in her shock and porcelain skin marred with the obvious lines of worry that only did more to pronounce her beauty.

Having only emerged recently from the horrors of the warzones, from the violence and unlimited dangers you were forced to face on the daily— including your injuries, you trembled. You could hardly believe you were home, alive, never to go back.

Your chest tightened suddenly, face crumpling with the tears you'd long been holding in since you left for the battlefields. "Lydia", you choked out, stumbling the remaining few steps between you on weak legs.

Her arms engulfed you eagerly within seconds, suffocatingly tight. "You're alive!", you heard the wonder and relief in her sobs as she clung to you. "I've missed you, I— I was so worried that you—".

"I know. I know—", you stammered, gasping for breath through your tears. "We were ambushed by Templars some weeks ago. I couldn't save everyone— I couldn't—".

"Shh, now", Lydia hushed you, pulling back to cradle your face in her palms. So warm and full of life. Just as you'd remembered in your dreams. "What matters is, you're home safe".

Her smile, just as wicked as her grandfather's, ensnared you all over again. You waited no longer, taking her lips in a fervent and long-awaited kiss beneath the dangling mistletoe.

"You must have missed me just as much", Lydia offered a lighthearted joke, gasping through the next contact of your lips.

Your mouth curled against hers, murmuring, "Winston Churchill sends his regards".

"Bless his heart", Lydia sighed, eyes growing misty once more. "He really did it. He got you home on Christmas Eve".

"So did you", you breathed out, watching it crystallise in the breeze around you. "No one would have found me— thought to look for me, if it weren't for you. You never gave up on me, Lydia".

"I never will", her forehead met yours, gaze as adoring as the day you'd stood in your own private altar in the countryside. "Not ever".

Her lips warmed the tip of your nose, irking you to giggle. "Going somewhere this evening?", you bit your own lip to restrain your teasing smile.

"No", Lydia's head shook with her own devious smile. "At home with the wife tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do this Christmas".

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hello, all!! 🥰

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to every single one of you!! 🎄☃️🎉🥳💖🫂

I hope you've all had the most spectacular holiday season, however you celebrate it! I wish good health and good fortune for your Christmas and the year ahead, but also to thank anyone and everyone who has supported my works this year. I'm grateful to you, including all of the friends I have made in this fandom and beyond! Thank you all!! You're magnificent ❤❤

As always, please tell me how I went with writing these with any feedback you have. I hope you all enjoyed!! If you wish to be a part of my taglists for this fandom or any of the ones I write for - check out my Masterlist and let me know!!

~ Elena ♡

-

TAGLIST; @deadlymistletoe

[kiatheinsomniac]

hi kiaa!! i hope youre doing good and school is going good too :) dont overwork yourself pls girl 😩❤️

since requests are open i figured id come and request something!! how would the assassins (altair, ezio, connor, arno, and jacob) react to the reader being extremely sick? how would they take care of the reader? would they be scared of catching the sickness? etc etc. ❤️

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: yeee, uni's been fine! i'm done until september now so all I really have to do is pray I've passed all my modules (looking at you, spanish and latin american culture and italian history) and do my summer reading for next year's modules <3 and i make sure to never overwork myself on my blog! i really like what i do here anyway so i can manage lots of writing hehe 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: altaïr, ezio, connor, arno, jacob 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: very slight angst in Jacob's part

｡･:*˚:✧｡ altaïr ibn-la'ahad

♡ Altaïr takes a break from his work to look after you. When he knows you'll do alright on your own for a while, he'll go out to train for a few hours to stay in shape but that and cooking meals for you are the only times he'll be leaving your side.

♡ he'll do everything he can to keep your temperature normal whether it's tenderly wiping down your body with a cool, damp cloth while another is folded over your forehead or he's having to bundle you up with blankets while he spoon feeds you, he'll stay by your side to keep you company and will be reading books while you rest.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ezio auditore

♡ Ezio brings in whatever doctors he can find to look after you but he'll be hovering around in the meantime to make sure they're treating you well and being careful (he'll honestly treat you like you're made of glass).

♡ he'll stay by your side for as long as possible and even if he has to leave you in Claudia's or a doctor's care for the day, he's in the kitchen in the evening cooking meals that Maria taught him to make and then sitting on the edge of your bed to feed them to you while he asks how you've been and he tells you about his day.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ratonhnaké:ton | connor kenway

♡ Ratonhnhaké:ton will treat you himself for as much is in his ability to before he goes into town to call out a doctor to see you. He'll diligently follow any perscriptions that you're given and he'll put almost everything on hold to look after you. He grew up without a father, he lost his mother and his whole village - he's not going to lose you too.

♡ he'll make sure you get enough fresh air, enough water, enough to eat. He'll be making herbal concoctions for you to help you heal faster. He just wants to see you better again.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ arno dorian

♡ he calls in the best doctors he can right away. He doesn't want to leave your side and he'll take some time away from the brotherhood is he has to. He'll cook for you, light meals like soups or stews that are easier for you to eat in your current state.

♡ he'll read to you but he keeps his distance a little. He doesn't want the both of you to get sick because then he won't be able to look after you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ jacob frye

♡ Jacob's never really been good at the caretaker role. Even when he was younger and Evie was ill, their father was the one to look after her while he was just left to his own devices. Jacob would always notice that he didn't receive the same level of emotional care from his father when he fell ill though.

♡ so, he calls in a doctor/nurse and follows all the instructions they give him to look after you. He doesn't care if he gets ill too, he'll cuddle with you and chat with you and he'll even sing quietly to you while cooling your forehead with a damp cloth or bundling you up in blankets. He'll basically care for you in every way he's advised and then in every way he noticed Evie got but he didn't from their father but he always wanted. He doesn't want you to feel the way he did.

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@gojohater101 @ayameiris4 @veryfancydoilies @asuni921 @writing-noah @danielle-marie @minimisthios @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @etherealsdreaming @loopycorn1123 @havatnah @firagirl @catou1305 @daddyadler @aarnodoriann @b3k1720 @asianbutnotjapanese

[jackjawcaptain]

Tori's Masterlist of Works From AO3 (A-Z)

Started 1-29-25

Updated 2-28-25

*All FICS ARE 21+*

Assassin's Creed

Ezio Auditore de Firenze Aged Like Fine Wine (smut, completed)

Jacob Frye Fatal Attraction (ON HOLD, dark fic, older!Jacob Frye, takes place in the Jack The Ripper DLC)

Alexios or Deimos At The Mercy of Fate (completed, dark smut, extreme dubious consent)

Crimson Peak

Alan McMichael

Escape from Crimson Peak (completed, youngest sharp sibling!reader, reader is caught in the middle of the plot between Lucille and Edith, reader and Edith are besties, tragic angst)

Cyberpunk 2077

Johnny Silverhand

Ivory Towers and Guitar Picks (completed, older works, use of Y/N, Reader is an adopted daughter of Saburo Arasaka and then she meets the infamous Johnny Silverhand, tragic romance, contains smut)

Sweet Child of Mine (completed, fluff, happy ending for Johnny, use of Y/N, super self indulgent)

Gotta Teach Em' Young (completed, sort of sequel to Sweet Child of Mine but can be read as stand alone, no use of Y/N, pregnant!reader, soft Johnny)

A Tale of Twins in Night City (completed, super short fix-it fic, reader is V's twin)

Male!V

The Merc, The Princess and The Rocker (in progress, Male!V meets Jackie's sister and instantly falls in love and wants to give her everything in the world. Things go wrong when he wakes up with a terrorist in his head, contains smut, fix-it fic)

Final Fantasy

Noctis Lucis Caelum

Defying the Odds (completed, fix-it fic, contains smut, astral!reader)

Barnabas Tharmr

Always Been Mine (in progress, Rosfield!reader + Leviathan!reader, Barnabas is ordained to be your man and takes you away after Phoenix Gate)

Gladiator II

General Marcus Acacius

Ruined (completed, not movie accurate, princess!reader, arranged marriage, angsty)

inFamous

Delsin Rowe

Smoke and Lightning (completed, Reggie doesn't die, reader is Cole's sister who also has lightning powers)

Interview With The Vampire

Lestat de Lioncourt

His Favorite Human (completed, based off the 1994 movie, haven't seen the show yet, angsty romance, open ending, selfish Lestat)

Legend of Zelda

Link (BOTW/TOTK)

Running Out of Time (completed, princess!reader, follows the time leading up to BOTW, reader is Zelda's older sister, angst over heavy prophecy for duty and country)

My Bloody Valentine (1981 & 2009)

Harry Warden

I'll Take You Away (completed, Harry Warden comes for you during his parade of blood because you kept him sane while he was down in the dark, smut and pregnancy mention, Valentine's Day Special 2024)

Cupcakes and Blood (in progress, your crush on Harry is evident, smut to come, Valentine's Day Special 2025)

Star Wars

Cal Kestis

Where The Moon Blossoms Grow (completed, SMUT, reunited after Order 66, follows the path of Jedi Survivor)

Din Djarin

Arguing in the Rain (very first work to AO3, completed, fluff and angst)

Qimir (The Stranger)

Fill in the Blanks (completed, memory loss then its regained, light smut)

Top Gun

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Half As Long, Twice As Bright (completed, childhood sweethearts, includes Icemav being parents + Ethan Hunt being Pete Mitchell's twin)

Ties That Bind (completed, Halloween special 2024, includes Icemav being protective parents)

Forget About Your Ex (completed, Mitchell!Reader comes back home for springbreak after catching her bf in bed with her roommate, Bradley comforts you, SMUT)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Angel Wings (completed, first fic for the Top Gun fandom, Bradshaw!Reader)

One With The Sea (completed, Mermaid AU, mermaid!reader)

When Shadows Meet Again (ON HOLD, prominent Icemav, Regency AU, Jake is Tom's Son)

In A Galaxy Far Far Away (completed, combo of Star Wars + Top Gun, prominent Icemav)

It's You, It's Me, It's Us (in progress, latina!coded reader, childhood sweethearts, Mav walked out but comes back)

Twisters

Scott Miller

For The First Time (completed, Harding!Reader, childhood sweethearts, break up but gets back together)

Tyler Owens

Won't Let You Go (completed, platonic Kate/Reader, Harding!Reader)

Whipping Winds (completed, first fic in the fandom after watching the movie)

Make Me A Daddy (completed, smut one-shot, fucking in Tyler's truck during a twister)

Love You To Mars and Back (completed, christmas special one-shot, very Hallmark coded, Harding!Reader)

Into The Storm (completed, Harding!Reader and Tyler get sucked up by a twister that takes them back to 1996, angst and fluff, inspired by Back To The Future, going 88 miles per hour into a twister)

Ultraman: Rising (2024)

Ken/Kenji Sato

A Brave New World (completed, most popular fic on my account, established relationship with Ken, basically follows the movie, fluffy goodness, reader is Emi's stepmom)

Vampyr (Video Game)

Dr. Jonathan Reid

Small Joy (completed, pregnant!reader, Jonathan falls in love with you despite being a newborn vampire and that you're pregnant with your late husband's child)

Stress Relief (completed, helping Jonathan study leads to shameless sex, smut)

[anari3l]

WELCOME TO THE WOOD!

Requests are always open. Send asks or submissions for fanfics.

This is not a safe space for minors. If you're under 18, please go away.

I refuse to write anything involving: pedophilia, rape, incest, yandere. I WILL delete asks with any of the above.

I will write: angst, consensual smut, fluff.

Fandoms I write for: Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, Red Dead Redemption, Overwatch, Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate 3, Hell on Wheels (AMC), Fallout 4, Assassin's Creed

I am also on AO3 as kaclydid

AO3 Links:

The Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit

Writings from the Wood

Red Dead Redemption 2

Humors of Whiskey - Arthur Morgan x Reader

Wildflowers - Humors of Whiskey prequel drabbles

Hell on Wheels

Far Away - Cullen Bohannon x Reader

I'll Try - Cullen Bohannon x Reader

Fallout 4

Welcome to Sanctuary - Nate/Sole Survivor x Reader

Overwatch

Cupcake - Jesse McCree X Reader/Cole Cassidy X Reader (Pls note, starting writing this before the name change, so name randomly changes)

Assassin's Creed

With a Little Luck and Grace - Shay Cormac x Reader

Blighter - Jacob Frye x Reader

-----------------------

If you like my work, my tips are up and running here on tumblr, or I have a Patreon (mostly my own art and writing projects) and Kofi.

Thank you!

[ghostlylulla-by]

Evie finds her brother on a rooftop in Lambeth, mere hours before they are meant to take out Crawford Starrick. Jacob seems...preoccupied.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types

Relationships: Evie Frye & Jacob Frye, Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth, (past), Evie Frye/Henry Green | Jayadeep Mir, (Minor)

Characters: Evie Frye, Jacob Frye, Maxwell Roth (mentioned), Henry Green | Jayadeep Mir (Mentioned), Frederick Abberline (mentioned), Ned Wynert (mentioned), Agnes MacBean (Mentioned), Crawford Starrick (mentioned), Alexander Graham Bell (Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Coming Out, Period-Typical Homophobia, Homophobia, and boy do i mean that they have feelings and evie is trying to understand her brother hard, Internalized Homophobia, again they are victorians, Protective Siblings, Sharing a Bed, NOT IN A WEIRD WAY IF YOU MAKE THIS FRYEC*ST I WILL END YOUR LIFE AND DESTROY YOUR GENOME, Post-Sequence 8: The Joys of Freedom, Evie Frye POV, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Not Beta Read, Canon Bisexual Character, i wrote this when my friend was playing syndicate for the first time lol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, sharing a bed with a sibling is actually normal especially in those times but even still nowadays, the train only has one bed and jacob would not surivive 10 minutes sleeping on the sofa, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Bisexual Jacob Frye, Sexuality Crisis

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹

🌹

🌹

You also get a bouquet of 🌹:) love you!

*happily takes bouquet*

@havatnah, my friend, thank you so much for sending me this a while back, and I'm sorry I didn't have anything presentable to share sooner. But looking through my documents, I did manage to find something decent from my 1888!Syndicate AU idea. It does feature my OC, Magnolia, buuuut despite that, I thought you'd appreciate some soft older!Jacob spending the morning in bed - so here you go! ;) Hope you enjoy this little WIP snippet! <3

A/N: For some context, this takes place post-JTR DLC, dealing with the repercussions of the events of the Autumn of Terror. (I think I wrote this up after watching a few episodes of "Ripper Street".) Features brief (not major) mentions of scars from wounds and a tiny bit of angst mixed with fluff - a word of warning, just in case?

Magnolia sucked on her bottom lip as she continued to look over the countless letters, photographs, and newspaper clippings with exhausted frustration. She hadn't bothered to rise from bed or even get dressed, as the contents of the papers distracted her not long after she woke up. But fortunately, despite the chill of the morning kissing her bare shoulders, the bed was still warm. Lying on her stomach, she crossed her arms and rested her chin on them with a huff.

"It doesn't make any sense!" she exclaimed in a louder whisper than intended.

"What doesn't…?" Jacob's voice, groggy and rendered even deeper than usual, due to just being roused from sleep, asked softly.

"All of this!" she responded immediately without thinking. It then occurred to her that she was no longer the only one awake, and that her outburst may have pulled her lover from his peaceful sleep. She glanced over at him sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Mmm…don't worry about it, love," he mumbled in return, still blinking the sleep from his hooded eyes. "It's probably time I got up, anyway." He attempted to stretch his muscles, and winced a little at the dull ache that still remained in some parts of his recovering body. Then, with as much effort as he could manage, he rolled over onto his belly and half rested himself upon the young woman's bare back. "Did you sleep well?"

She lifted a hand up and cupped his cheek in acknowledgement, her thumb brushing over one of his sideburns. "Yeah, just fine," she replied, throwing a small smile over her shoulder. "You?"

"Mmm-hmm…" he hummed, the tip of his nose dancing over her warm skin. He then grinned just a little. "You just about wore me out last night," he teased.

Sir Jacob Frye, the man who had barely a reason to smile over the last year, was now teasing - no - flirting again. Who'd have thought he still had it in him?

However, his smile faded when he didn't get much of a response back from his lover, and he looked up to see she was once again engrossed in the myriad of papers and pictures sprawled out in front of her.

He sighed.

He knew realistically that despite the Ripper now being deceased, his memory and the effects of his reign of terror over London wasn't going to immediately fade from the public's recollection. But that didn't stop the tiny, idealistic part of him that remained, even after all that had happened, to hope that he could settle back down to some level of normalcy in his life - including enjoying the company of his sweetheart in bed, without anything relating to the outside world bleeding in.

He pressed a gentle kiss upon her shoulder blade.

"Why don't you put those things aside for the moment?" he tried again, his lips still pressing kisses against her skin. "It's too early."

It was then that Magnolia seemed to finally catch onto Jacob's subtly needy tone, and she glanced over her shoulder once more. Seeing his eyes, when he lifted them to meet hers, she couldn't help feeling a little guilty for letting her borderline-obsessive need to piece things together to interrupt what should be a peaceful morning.

Her own eyes flickered with a hint of sympathy. ""Oh, Jacob…I'm sorry." She then gathered everything in front of her and tossed the pile onto the nightstand, not caring when some papers fell to the floor, before turning over onto her back and wrapping her arms around her lover's neck. "Come here…come here."

She gently pulled Jacob down towards her and met his lips sweetly. She heard him sigh contently into the kiss and she smiled a bit against his mouth. Deepening it, a soft moan escaped her. She wanted to him to know that he was still more important to her than her work. He had to know.

Nevertheless, he still pulled back momentarily. He looked a tad uncertain.

"You know, you don't have to do th–"

His words were silenced with another kiss.

"Trust me; obligation is the furthest thing from my mind," she then told him with a hint of a smile, before touching her forehead to his. "Thanks for bringing me back to the here and now."

A soft and relieved look surfaced in Jacob's eyes, and he brushed the tip of his nose against Magnolia's. "Thanks for being with me here and now," he cooed.

He kissed her once more before shifting his body somewhat to lay his head upon her shoulder. His nose now nuzzled against her neck, as she began to run one of her hands through his messy hair. Her other arm wrapped around his shoulders. Under her hand, she could feel the newly-healing scars on his skin and tried to ignore it. Now wasn't the time to be remembering their origins, just as now wasn't the time to be sorting through the pages that bore the name of the monster who inflicted those wounds. Now needed to be a time of quiet, of respite, of love.

She kissed him again.

[deadlysequence]

Memento Mori

(Remember you will die)

[aiza-luna]

Masterlist made to help navigate my account and informations regarding OCs and Lore better! Multifandom, periodically updated as more informations about my AUs are revealed.

If you wish to ignore it, people continue scrolling, hope you have a wonderful day! 🩵

Attentively: Aiza Luna.

❦ Assassin's Creed: Sanctity.

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~{𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕳𝖔𝖔𝖕𝖔𝖊}~

- Characters -

Aimée Artois Helix Data (Fan-Made).

Serena Cotoner Introdutory Aesthetic.

Serena's Helix Data (Fan-Made)

Solange Cotoner Introdutory Aesthetic.

Solange's Character Chart. [Future Editing]

Solange's Helix Data (Fan-Made)

Solange and Serena Sisterhood Aesthetic.

Cotoner-Artois Harpy Sisters. (AU by Corvus-the-Trisckter)

Jacob Frye x Solange Cotoner Ship Aesthetic.

D'Artois Family. [In-Coming]

Cotoner Family of Assassins. [Future Update]

Cotoner Family of Templars.

Frye Family of Assassins. [In-Coming]

The Hopkins Family. [In-Coming]

.

The Assassins. (1868) [In-Coming]

The Templars. (1868) [In-Coming]

The Associated. (1868) [In-Coming]

Settings. (1868) [In-Coming]

.

The Assassins. (1870) [In-Coming]

The Neo British Templar Rite. (1870) [In-Coming].

Settings. (1870) [In-Coming]

.

Frye-Cotoner Family of Assassins. (1872- present day)[In-Coming]

The Fledglings/ Frye-Cotoner Children. (1871 to 1890) [In-Coming]

House of Sanseverino i Cotoner. (1872 to 1887) [In-Coming]

The Mir-Frye Family of Assassins. (1874 to 1880) [In-Coming]

Settings (1880s) [In-Coming]

.

AC Sanctity - Warfare: Character Status. (1914/WWI) [In-Coming].

- Stories -

Afternoon Visit. (1868) [Post Soon]

Nightly Chat. (1868) [Fluff Fic]

Nightly Haunt. (1888/ Pos-JTR!) [Angst/ Comfort]

Sunny Day. (Romance) [Post Soon]

❦ Watch Dogs: Underworld.

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[ Tʜᴇ Fᴏx ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs Hᴇʟʟʜᴏᴜɴᴅ]

- Characters -

Morowa Bancroft's Introdutory Post.

Morowa's Birthday Post.

Morowa's Aesthetic and Picrews.

Jennifer Otero's Introductory Post. [In-Coming]

The Bancroft Family. [In-Coming]

The Otero Family. [In-Coming]

New York Allies. [In-Coming]

Main Characters Introduction. [In-Coming]

Edgar Caputo's Introdutory Post. [In-Coming]

The Crime Families Post. [In-Coming]

The CEOs (Blume and Abstergo). [In-Coming]

Missions and Acts list. (Fan-Made) [In-Coming]

Settings. [In-Coming]

.

Aiden Pearce x Morowa Bancroft Fanart. (By @klauuyt )

Connor Pearce Introductory Post. [In-Coming]

Eileen Pearce Introductory Post. [ In-Coming]

The Pearce Twins Bio. (2015 and 2029) [In-Coming]

Morowa Bancroft Legion's Vers. [In-Coming]

Pearce Family HC (Legion). [In-Coming]

- Stories -

A Long Day. (Comfort/ Bonding) [In-Coming]

No Tears Left to Cry. (Trauma/Reflection) [In-Coming]

A Coffe Break. (Domestic/ comedy) [In-Coming]

Between Cigarettes and Glasses. (Confession/ smut) [In-Coming]

To think. (Reflection) [In-Coming]

Teller of Stories. (Lore-Related) [In-Coming]

❦ The Wolf Among Us: Fractuded Fairytale.

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~{𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝 }~

- Characters -

Scarlet Introductory Post. [In-Coming]

Scarlet Atwood's Bio. [In-Coming]

Aesthetic of the Atwood Family. [In-Coming]

Homelands' Life Aesthetics. [In-Coming]

Mundy Life Aesthetic. [In-Coming]

Episode Titles. (Fan-Made) [In-Coming]

Secondary Characters/ Fables. [In-Coming]

Settings. [In-Coming]

.

Agave Introductory Post. (Fablesona) [In-Coming]

Princess Agave Bio. [In-Coming]

Introduction of the Royal Family of the Kingdom of Sunion. (Lore) [In-Coming]

Summary of "Fractured Fairytale: The Little Mermaid". (Agave's side story after TWAU) [In-Coming]

Characters' relationships.

- Stories -

Lone Wolf. (Character Interaction) [In-Coming]

Dangerous Woods. (Lore) [In-Coming]

Wolf to a Man. (Reflection) [In-Coming]

Basket of Treats. (Fluffy)[In-Coming]

Cut Loose. (Romantic/ Comedy) [In-Coming]

To Eat You Better. (Smut) [In-Coming]

.

Fish Out of Water. [In-Coming]

Stronger than a Tide. [In-Coming]

No Tears to Shed. (Angst) [In-Coming]

Painful Steps. (Investigation) [In-Coming]

Whitewash. (Angst) [In-Coming]

Sea Foam. (Angst) [In-Coming]

Under the Sea. (Fluff) [In-Coming]

Credits to my dear friends @nemo-of-house-hamartia and @thatcrazycrowgirl for the inspo on their own Masterlists!

(not sure this was necessary but I still felt the need to credit 🥹)

- Last Updated: February 12nd, 2025. -

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