#myself with the sheer force of my hatred and despair explosion.

[pepprs]

in a circumstance and a situation currently

[boredroo]

A Messenger pt. 6

Summary: The Council has heard of the names that have reigned down London; the Frye twins have evidently brought upon a change for the better good against the Templar’s tyranny, but order must still be kept.

You have been sent by the Council to evaluate the two sibling assassins, report what is must and maintain control where it must be maintained.

Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

[][][][][][][][]

“Jacob Frye!”

It’s still rather early in the morning, the train is currently at a temporary stop in the peaceful yet awake station in the City of London—That is, until your fury abruptly tears through the quiet, your footsteps heavy as you march into the compartment where Jacob is resting in.

Sitting idly, almost sprawled over the sofa, Jacob looks up as you enter, ready to greet you with a beaming smile before-

“Oof!” He cries when something hits him right in his face.

“What’s the matter here?” Evie steps in just after you, eyes twinkling in amusement as Jacob dejectedly peels off the object you’ve hurled at him. 

“(Y/N), what the hell-” he starts, but you cut him off even more zealously.

“You’ve been reading through my notes! My reports!” You gesture angrily towards your book now held in-between his fingers. “Those are confidential, and are only for my use as well as the Council’s!” 

Jacob shakes his head, eyes fleeting away from you in what seems to be panic. “I have no idea what you’re going on about-”

“You drew a cat beside your name! Filthy liar!” You snatch the book out of his hand, only to smack it against his nose. He cries out in response and claps his hands to his nose, but to your irritation, you only hear a sheepish laugh afterwards.

Evie pipes up rather complacently behind you. “Oh, Jacob. How could you? See, (Y/N)? I keep telling you, he’s nothing but a walking disaster-”

“She helped me steal it,” Jacob blurts with a finger pointed towards her, and you whirl around instantly. Evie is quick to mirror the wry smile her twin brother wore just moments ago, struggling to ignore the raging fury in your eyes.

“Evie Frye...” you trail between gritted teeth, and she laughs weakly.

“I, well... I have something to attend to, actually!” Evie paces backwards, ready to sprint off into an escape from your wrath, but-

“Easy,” Jacob’s voice is gentle as you feel his hand around your wrist. He tugs it back, having you face him instead. Concern and... care are not quite what you expected to see in his narrowed eyes, not when you yourself can’t seem to feel anything but anger at this moment. They’ve wronged you by doing such a thing, to touch your personal affects like that, intruding your privacy, that now, they surely know.

“We had a reason,” he slowly explains, tapping onto the book now tightly clutched into your clenching fist. Fear, anxiousness render the bitter taste in your mouth, expecting what’s to come. 

“And that reason is?” you manage to ask without your voice breaking.

Jacob doesn’t hesitate the least before answering. “I was worried about you.”

“We both were,” Evie joins, now standing beside him. “We thought we could find something that would help us understand, as you refused to tell us what truly happened there in Southwark. At the factory.”

Where you dumbly lost complete control of yourself, your conscience never fails to remind you, of that upsetting event that took place just a few days ago. And as Evie said, you’ve neglected to explain yourself to them, and you’re more than determined to keep it that way.

Your lips purse ever tightly, foot one step back as you fully intend to leave. “I know I’ve blundered, and have regrettably cost your mission-”

“That’s not what this is about,” Jacob interrupts, but you quickly do the same.

“And I’ve decided to quarantine myself in the train from now on should I ever risk failing you again. I take responsibility over my mistake and am punishing myself for it, and I hope you can simply leave it at that.”

“But (Y/N)-” Evie tries, though you’re already turning away, hastening to drop this conversation for good.

However-

“Luther Hart,” Jacob mutters, quiet but enough to have you hear him, just barely. You halt in your steps, the name yet again sets tremors coursing down your limbs, to your trembling fingers.

You don’t turn around, you couldn’t, but he is adamant to continue. Every word spoken has your heart writhing harder and harder. “...That one same name, scrawled all over on a single page. All of them struck out.”

“...Bloodstains visible as well,” Evie adds under her breath. Slightly firmer, “The penmanship frantic, with blood staining the corners.

“Luther Hart was a target, wasn’t he?” she finally asks. 

Something shatters ever-so-violently inside you. Your body is immobilised, its mind washed away by the sea of memories, of those dark days that were once your very own life.

“(Y/N), who was he?” Jacob asks, and softer, quieter, “What did he do to you?”

Your silence only intensifies. But Jacob calls your name again, that just by that, by only his voice, the kindest way he says it...

You heave a long, fatigued sigh. The twins wait as you seemingly muster all that you need to finally face them, and in your hand, you reveal to them; your golden pen lay atop of your palm. A reverie upon it, it is when you feel a hand on your shoulder you break away albeit reluctantly from your suffocating thoughts, that when you meet Jacob’s gentle expression, the darkness fogging your mind clears up. Slowly it does, but it’s dissipating still. 

...Why is he always able to affect you in such a way? 

***

“...I came from a backwater village, just barely by the border of the country,” you begin.

The city and its people are moving along from outside the train, chattering of the few Rooks from the compartment aside than yours fit pleasantly into the backdrop. The usual, contented scene you’ve grown to seeing every day helps eases the weight in your chest.

...As well as the warmth permeating from Jacob, as his side rests gently against yours on the sofa, just as yours rest into him. Evie watches you with patient eyes from the armchair in front of you, though you didn’t miss the curious glance she had when, rather than sitting with the appropriate distance in the middle, Jacob chose to sit as close as he possibly could to you instead.

“After my mother died of illness, my father, my baby sister and I, we had to make do without her with us,” pain singes you now just as it did before, but it doesn’t last too long. You’ve grown past it, at least, this one you have.

“The loss affected my father most, it turned out. His business crumbled for his despair that never cured, and we were taken of everything we had in a single night,” You inhale a breath, and continue. “That was when my sister—Carolyn and I were taken away, to earn to survive. But I had the better end of it, I was a maid for some snob with too much money on her hands, not a child slave, too old for one I suppose.”

“Your sister was forced to work in a factory?” Evie asks, empathy dripping from her voice.

“And this Luther Hart did that to you? To your family?” Intense anger colours Jacob’s instead. You don’t answer, there’s more—more why the taint on your heart will remain black forever.

“...I tried to see my sister every chance I could, between the breaks. The estate I worked for was far, sometimes I barely made it before she would be whipped into working again. ...I distinctly remember how small and weak Carolyn was.”

Silence oozes, as if they’ve understood. They have. It didn’t take much in the first place, but they understand. They know that Carolyn, your younger, darling sister, is no longer of this world.

“We planned to escape, you see? I would take her away when no one’s watching, when the man with the whip wasn’t looking, when the mistress is too busy shagging her gardener behind her husband’s back. I was prepared. I was prepared,” now you’re clenching your teeth, your jaw tensing so tightly, it almost numbs you. Only when Jacob lightly touches your hand you realise, your fingers have tried clawing, digging into your palm, over your golden pen.

 “But I was-I got greedy,” your voice strains. “I tried to release the other children as well, I’d protect each and every one of them, with Carolyn, but-!” you’re quivering in pain, in mourn, in fear—fear that they’re about to catch you, they’re going to recapture the poor children, they’re going to kill them, kill your sister, then you-!

“(Y/N),” Evie’s voice snaps you awake. Her hand is comforting on your shoulder, relieving. She’s bent in front of you to meet your eyes, and when they do, she offers you a firm nod. You take this as a signal to continue, but you feel... calmer, just by a slight bit. You’re safe now, especially with the twins so close to you.

“Sorry,” you say, exhaling. “...As you can expect, I didn’t get far. Not at all. We barely made it out of the building before the guards overwhelmed us. It was an accident, but the building caught on fire, a stray bullet landing into explosives instead of us. Carolyn’s hand slipped out of mine, and I... No one else made it.”

You try to continue, but before your lips even lift, Jacob interrupts you readily. “It’s not.”

“What?”

“You were about to say it was all your fault, weren’t you?” He frowns hard. “It’s not. That’s that.”

Your lips purse, teeth then gnawing anxiously onto the bottom. It’s easy for him to say, but you understand that he’s trying to ease your pain, and that’s more than you could appreciate already, especially coming from him.

“And that bastard? Hart? Did you get back at him?” Evie asks. You can see sheer hatred in her eyes as the name slips past her lips.

You nod. “I did.” And lifting your pen towards them, “With this.

“My father gave this to me on my birthday, my last birthday we spent together. After Carolyn’s death, I was in a low place, and that was when my mentor came in. She trained me to be who I am now. I bound my life to the creed in return, my duties and responsibilities for the Brotherhood kept me sane, intact. But then I heard word of a new institution under Hart’s name, yet another slave-driving fate forced upon the weak.”

You twirl your pen between your fingers, the maelstrom of emotions inside you having alleviated. Peace resonates deeply when you recall the justice you’ve served with your own hands, the deserving death you’ve brought down.

“It was against my orders, as the higher-ups intended to track Hart to the bigger force he was working under and so spared him to live another day, but the thought of him continuing to breathe while my sister had suffocated and died in his smokes made me take up my blade despite it. When he overpowered me, I used this pen and stabbed him deep in the neck.”

You’re mimicking the motions without realising, your movement exact and precise just as the one in the past. The sun glints off on the pen when you raise it high.

“...And now I must come clear to you two, that due to my defiance,” you turn towards Evie and Jacob, both very attentively listening and watching you, seemingly reliving your story as if it was their own. “With acknowledging my value as an Assassin, rather than rid of me completely for my one mistake, the Council instead decided to send me here, in hopes that I would not engage in the field without supervision.”

“Wait, what?” Jacob looks at you in shock. “So what you’re saying is-”

You force a smile. “Yes. I wasn’t sent here because the Council expected the worst out of you two. In fact, you are the best assassins I’ve ever had the honour of meeting. It was, instead, to ensure that I’d be out of their hair.”

Standing up, brushing down your clothes, you’re desperate to not look at them in the eyes as you say, “And I will not let myself get into yours either. Just this morning I’ve sent a letter to the Council to ask to return to my own home.”

“What?!” Both of them are upright in no time, their loud exclaim startling you.

“Oh, please, don’t worry,” you quickly console. “I’ve put in a good word for the two of you so you should be fine-”

To your puzzlement, however, Jacob doesn’t at all listen, hastening past you like a man in a mission. “Frye? Where are you-”

“I’m not letting that letter leave this city,” he simply says, holding your gaze so firmly, before jumping out of the train. You’re left almost bewildered, agape.

Then, Evie is covering your hands with her own. Her smile is kind, yet her expression feels stern all the same, determined. “You better not move a single inch until we get back, do you understand?”

“U-Uh, okay...?” Is there any other option when she’s staring you down like that?

Evie traces Jacob’s steps, though she stops short just by the exit of the train. “Say, (Y/N)? Something still doesn’t add up.”

“Yes?”

“Where was your father when all of that happened to you?”

You stare at her, before occupying yourself by going through your notes. There are so many cats Jacob has drawn... And they’re much worse than yours.

“...My father? Busy expanding his business as Luther Hart I suppose.”

***

By the time the Frye twins return from their unannounced trip, you’re rousing awake from a nap, their voices echoing down the path to where you are. It couldn’t be helped much that you had fallen asleep right where they left you, especially after their claims; Evie with her not-at-all-a-threat coercing, and Jacob having planted a dire concern in you that perhaps he might have went on to assassinate an innocent mailboy.

“Here you are, (Y/N)!” Jacob chimes as soon as he steps into the compartment. His eyes light up, crinkling from the wide smile he can’t seem to help himself giving you at first sight. A white envelope stands out in the hold of his gloved hand.

“You actually retrieved my letter?” your voice nearly cracks, the incredulity of the idea, of what he’s literally done confuses you to the end of the world.

“Your welcome,” he says proudly, either not noticing or outright ignoring the mixture of both shock and flusteration on your face.

“I don’t understand-”

Evie approaches you rather briskly, taking you by surprise when her grip curls around your arm. “We have an idea. Come with us.”

“To where?”

“It’s a surprise,” Jacob takes you by your other arm, that before you know it, you might as well be carried off by them to... wherever it is they’re so insistent in taking you.

And that ‘surprise’ of a place is...

***

“A... fight club?”

Your words inevitably drown under the cheers, the howling, the yelps of pain and victory from the rowdy men encompassing the periphery, or rather, the fighting ring located on a circular roof. 

The city of Lambeth is spread out like a vast sea underneath your high ground, with eager men and women taking leverage of the stage to prove their strength and win rewards. This, for some reason, is the place Evie and Jacob really wanted to take you to.

Jacob spreads his arms wide in a grand gesture, as if showing off something invaluable to you. “What do you think? Thrilling, isn’t it?”

You glance towards the man in the middle of the ring, groaning almost obnoxiously, hands clutching onto his crotch. Oh dear lord, was he kicked in the-

“Jacob and I, you see,” Evie has her hands on your shoulders, perhaps wanting you to take in the scene with a more perceptive eye. “We’ve discussed, and speculated, that perhaps what you need is simply an... outlet. Just a way to relieve yourself of everything that is pent up.”

“Instead of abandoning us completely, that is,” Jacob adds, bitterness and a bit of mockery tinging his words.

Would they rather you don’t leave? Before you’re even able to voice the question, your heart thumping quicker than it’s supposed to, a man dressed rather colourfully steps up to the three of you. Evie tells you of his name before he reaches you; Robert Topping.

“Mr. Frye, Miss Frye!” he tips his hat with a dramatic bow. “It is always good to see you here. Fancy a round or two in the ring? You know how much the crowd loves watching you dear siblings in action.”

“...This is the sort of activity you two get up to at the side?” you murmur, to which the twins merely shrug in response, their eyes squinting in amusement, and none are meeting yours.

“Oh? How about you? You seem like a formidable fellow, yes?” Robert gestures towards you, his grin sly yet harmless, always on a look-out for opportunities. “A friend of the Fryes is surely a force to be reckoned with, that’s what I’ve learnt.”

You promptly fold your arms. “It’s (Y/N), but I’m hardly interested-”

Jacob slaps you in the back, and you quickly meet his smirk with a hard glare.

“Don’t be shy now, (Y/N),” he says, lifting his scarred eyebrow. “Go ahead and unleash the beast.”

He leans in almost conspiratorially as soon as you’re about to protest. “Or are you too scared you’ll humiliate yourself in front of everyone?”

That’s enough to snap something inside you.

Jacob lets out a small ‘oof’ when your coat splays over his face, that when he pulls it off him, his look of surprise turns into one of fixation as you’re vaulting over the fencing bars to position yourself in center of the now empty ring.

 You’re pulling your hair back as you turn to them, noting how Jacob is, unaware even to him, intently watching the way your fingers tread in between your locks. “Sir Topping, what would it take for me to go against him?”

While Jacob barks in laughter as you almost spit out mentioning him, Robert clasps his hands together in keen approval, eyes squinting. “Against the standing champion? Nine rounds, including a match against the runner-up herself-”

Evie thrusts her chin up, her pride evidently casting towards, against you. “He means me, of course.”

“Second place suits you, sister,” Jacob provokes, yet Evie is unfazed, simply rolling her eyes.

“The brains, remember?” she scoffs, then her smirk widening, “At least I have one instead of just punching my way through everything, everytime. No one else could ever compete with you on that one, can they?” A groan as his response, Jacob couldn’t restrain from grinning afterwards.

Amidst the already impatient crowd, you stand just by the boundary, still within the ring. You lean on your arms that rest over the steel bars, surprisingly, with excitement and adrenaline beginning to surge through you. The idea of facing the Frye twins in combat is rather terrifying, and yet, you’re nothing if not eager to potentially get yourself beaten up, perhaps even win—At least, you could dream.

“Eight matches then, before I take on Evie and Mr. Frye?” you reconfirm, no longer able to refrain from smiling in anticipation.

“If you even last that long,” Jacob says with a smug smirk before Robert could answer. “No one ever does.” His last words sound like a threat, yet almost... sultry, especially with that lingering way he looks at you. In return, your eyes narrow in a challenge, one that he seems more than evidently happy to take up.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” you walk backwards, back to the center of the spotlight, holding firmly onto Jacob’s eyes that trace every single motion you make. “We’ve burnt enough daylight already, haven’t we?”

Robert lets out a howl in a cheer’s stead, surely spurring the audience into wildness. Even Evie and Jacob don’t hesitate to join in the unparalleled energy, cheering and applauding with the crowd, though you send a playful glare when Jacob boos you at one point.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what you’ll witness today will be one of the finest shows you’ve seen in history yet!” Robert calls upon the crowd as he circles you for dramatic flair. Then a pat on your shoulder, he whispers, like a secret to you;

“Shall we begin, my friend?”

And it all erupts. 

You don’t mind the roars of the people, the wind that does nothing to chill the heat kindling in your body, the excitement, the adrenaline—

“Hyargh!” Comes a cry from behind, and the fist that you dodge with ease with a mere spin of your body. Three men are to oppose you for the first round, all three now charging at you with strength surely pulsating through their aiming fists, and...

It’s all ending so quickly.

You’re sure you just finished the very first round, but now Robert is yanking your arm high up in the air, gloating, celebrating your already sixth win. 

“Look here, folks!” He cheers, so over the clouds he is he’s almost slurring his words from how fast he speaks. “Absolutely delightful, this one! Do you not want to see more?”

The people’s response is to scream and whistle louder, an obvious sign that the show must continue, and one that you’re more than willing to give.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you catch sight of Evie and Jacob at the side. Evie seems to have changed into an attire more appropriate for the ring, and you’re flattered that she’s preparing herself for you already, giving you an acknowledging wave of her hand. Then, there’s Jacob, who seems like he hasn’t been able to stop smiling for awhile now. He, as well, gives you a friendly wave, and, without thinking, you return it with a wink. Jacob’s jaw drops immediately, his cheeks turning just a bit red.

Oh God, did you just pull a Jacob on the man himself?

“Ready for the next round, fighter?” Robert snatches your attention away, fortunately, before you could ponder on what you’ve done. You nod at him, fixing the bandages swathing your slightly sore knuckles and fingers.

One more brawl before you face one of the glorified Fryes.

...And it honestly doesn’t take much, with the wave of opponents ending as the last brute falls to the ground, air completely knocked out of him after a precise shiner up his chin.

As Robert takes over the grand gestures, you’re already turning towards the spot the twins have been making themselves comfortable in. The corner of your lips quirk up as you watch Evie vaulting over the bars to join you in the ring.

“Finally,” you hear yourself saying, and she lets out a light laugh.

“Took the word right out my mouth, (Y/N),” she says, grinning amiably. And that sense of camaraderie vanishes within a second, quickly being replaced when her bright eyes narrow into a fierce, menacing glare. When she takes her impenetrable stance, you know you’re in for one hell of a time now. There’s no turning back.

“And... begin!”

Your cry and Evie’s meld as you lunge at the same time. The blow you take on your cheek whips your sight white for a good second before you reciprocate with just as much strength, right on her face as well.

Evie spits onto the ground after recoiling, and comes back ever-so-relentlessly, her movements fast, accurate, way too calculating for you to try and counter immediately. Your arms grow tired as they shield you from her onslaught, until you catch wind of her attempt to break through, and you take the opening to spin and land a kick into her stomach.

You think you’ve won the upper hand now, but judging from her animalistic growl, it seems you’ve just made her angrier... You’re not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

That’s when she suddenly sprints towards you, and you receive the answer right at that moment—Evie leaps onto you, her strong legs wrapping around your neck before she twists and drags you down onto the cold, hard ground. Pain inflames through your whole body as you look up to her, wincing and feeling too numb to go on. You’re tempted to admit defeat, when-

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” she speaks quietly, winding her arms around your throat. She’s... masking her conversation with you by holding you in a death grip? “I have no problem throwing this fight to see you go against my idiot brother.”

“Y-Yeah?” you manage through her slowly crushing down your windpipe.

She answers way too happily in response. “Sure! You’ve put on quite a show, if I do say so myself. Consider it a reward, or maybe even a welcome gift for bringing you here, yes?”

“That... does come with you not... killing me on the spot, right? Please?” you choke out, ready to plead when she chuckles.

“Of course. Make it seem like you’ve overpowered me,” she says, loosening her grip. “Don’t disappoint me,” she adds more quietly.

“Evie, wait, I have an idea,” you whisper back. Swiftly presenting your schemes, still hidden from the public, she nods immediately in an agreement, grinning back at you.

In an instance, you take the cue to break her restraint, bumping your head hard into hers. When she balks back, you waste no time in whirling around and kicking her flat in the stomach. She falls down with a surprised yelp, and lifts her hand for surrender. You suppress your smile as she offers you a secret one of her own.

“Unbelievable!” Robert’s voice echoes instantly. The audience mirrors his excitement, hollering with their fists pumping into the air, even going so far to chant your name.

You’re huffing puffs of growing fatigue behind the back of your hand when something emerges into sight just from the corner of your eye—Jacob has entered the ring, and for an embarrassing second, you’re transfixed over his attire, or rather the lack thereof, nothing but fighting bandages and pants. The tattoo covering his chest makes you stare, a dark raven that you’re suddenly desperate to know of its meaning, as well as the subtle cross inked into his left forearm.

“You’re making me blush, love, with such intense staring,” Jacob coos with a hand on his hip, snapping you into attention. You try to glare your blush away, but from the complacent grin he’s wearing, your efforts are paltry it seems.

You’re as if mesmerised as you watch his hand raking through his hair, a scarce sight to behold as Jacob is rarely seen without his hat to compliment the way he’s usually clad in. ...You’ve completely lost control of yourself with the ogling, and worse, he seems to notice from the very start.

“I won’t go easy on you as my sister have, you know,” he declares, standing idly with relaxed arms at his sides. Unlike Evie, Jacob doesn’t even try to take you seriously, which infuriates you more than ever. And by the mischievous twinkle crossing his eyes, you’ve successfully fallen into his trap.

“This is it, folks! Who will stand as victor in today’s battle? Will it be the defending champion, Mr. Frye, or will the newcomer, (Y/N) take his place?” Both your names ring throughout the perennially heated crowd, your blood pumping faster and faster as your eyes lock against Jacob’s, until Robert signifies the start of the fight with an ear-deafening whistle-

You make the first move, deciding that using your better speed is wiser than trying to par against the assassin’s immense strength. And for a moment, you seem to be having the leverage of the fight, with your fast and piercing movements, your punches and kicks nearly overwhelming him. Then, mid-kick, he suddenly grabs hold of your ankle, and throws you back and out of rhythm.

Breath knocked out of you when your back hits the ground, you roll over just in time before he reaches for you, your arms already up to block his next attack—But he’s much stronger, that he’s able to break through still, and your guard ends up completely shattering when he turns and locks you in his grasp, arms positioning around your head in a way that could break your neck if he chooses to.

“Looks like it’s my win this time, huh?” he still finds a chance to taunt you, lips too close to your ear. Seems like he’s just equaled himself against your win in that over-the-rooftop race from before. But, too soon-

“Evie, now!” you demand, and you hear a confused sound from Jacob before he whelps in shock. Forced to release you, you turn to see Evie having jumped onto his back, now trying to break him down. You lend her a helping hand, kicking him hard, and with the element of surprise, Jacob falls down onto the ground on his back.

Snapping out of the shock, he looks up at you in disbelief, and even more as Evie runs up to you and offers you a high-five. The ridiculous, priceless face he makes only has you laughing harder than you already are.

“Oh, what a turn of events!” Robert narrates, amusement pooling down his words. “Looks like our champion’s enemies have joined forces to take him down once and for all! Ingenious play of strategy right there!”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” Jacob complains once he’s found, still, a rather unstable footing. It seems you and Evie had done him in a bit too much.

Evie only laughs in return, sounding more like a sinister villain. You can’t help yourself either, pushing him away by the chest with a finger. “The brains, remember?”

Jacob stares at you wordlessly, an expression that you can’t quite discern playing on his face as he seemingly contemplates between to laugh or scream. As the crowd rouses in celebration, he chooses to laugh in the end.

You let him pull you into an half-embrace, smiling up to your eyes as he nearly meets you forehead-to-forehead. The sheer adoration glimmering in his eyes, towards you, towards your lips, then back to your eyes has you feeling a bit red in the cheeks. You bask in the overwhelming energy the people spill for you as well as for themselves, in Evie’s joyful hug and Jacob’s warm smiles and touches.

...The day goes by rather well, if you could be honest.

***

Night quilts over the city just as you and the Fryes are ready to return to the train. However, Jacob has suggested visiting one of the pubs he and Evie have invested in nearby, and so the party is now off on a carriage to make way.

Sitting next to Jacob on the coach box comes off as a rather surprisingly... calming, insightful experience when the man’s not too busy being chased to death. Your mind is still a bit too wrapped up over the exchange you had with Evie prior climbing on the coach—she had sent you a suggestive smirk as she deliberately pushes you away from joining her inside, and instead forced your way to sit with her brother—when Jacob’s voice, a question gone unheard brings you back to reality.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly say, turning to him apologetically. “What were you saying?”

He simply chuckles. “I asked if you were cold, love?”

You fidget over the casual nickname. He’s rarely used it with you, yet now he does it as if it’s routine. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking.”

A glance and a smile, Jacob continues reining the carriage in peaceful silence, apart from the times he’s coaxing the horses. You’ve noticed it from awhile back, but...

“You’re awfully sweet when talking to the horses,” you hear yourself blurt out. Such a contrast between his tough, brash demeanor slightly enlightens you.

“I’m generally a sweet person,” he jokes, and you shake your head in good humour.

“Don’t be so jealous,” he adds.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you’re not.”

“I’m not!” you laugh when he goes to stroke under your chin just as one does to a pet, pushing him away. “Focus on driving!” You give him a light slap on the shoulder, and he finally retreats with an endearing laugh.

The ride falls a bit quieter then, but it is a quiet that you more than welcome, the night life sparking hope inside you, as if no Templars exist, no wars to wage. When Jacob briefly sets the rein aside to blow into the cold of his hands, it becomes almost romantic as well—He doesn’t take his wondering eyes off you when you bring his hands into yours to help warm them up.

...The bar, on another hand, is an entirely different story. Teeming with life, with music, with people, you and the twins have to push through the partners bouncing in dance just to get to the counter. Jacob then excuses himself to the side to greet a group of Rooks, leaving you in the hospitable hands of Evie as she orders your drink for you.

“Fun day, wasn’t it? You were able to let your hair down just as we hoped?” she urges you to take a sip from your cup after she does so with her own. The liquor washing down you is sweet, bubbly, warmer than you expect. From your smile, she seems pleased that you enjoy her taste.

“It was... entertaining,” you say. “And very much relieving. You were right.”

“I always am,” she returns. Eyes casting away for just a moment, she says a bit softer, “Though I can’t quite take all the credit, not when it was Jacob who wouldn’t shut up about finding a way to ease your pain.”

“Mr. Frye?” you inquire. The heat bubbling inside you makes you question whether if it’s the alcohol or... something else.

“That’s what I said. I’ve seen you two, your... interactions. It could be harmless, but I can’t say I’m not fairly concerned. Jacob is emotional enough as he is,” Evie looks at you almost critically. “I doubt having more interference would do him any more good.”

“Is that the sort of thinking that have made you and Mr. Green distant?” you ask before you could stop yourself. You know more than enough that it’s a sore spot to touch on, but you couldn’t help yourself—Being called an ‘interference’, as if you were that much of a burden to Jacob impacted something in you.

Evie’s eyes widen, words slowly stammering. “That is... That’s not-”

“(Y/N), Evie!”

Your lips thin just as you feel an arm lace around your shoulders. Jacob has scooted his way up to you and Evie, the wide smile on his face signifies his obliviousness to the conversation he had fortunately missed.

“Less talking, more drinking already,” he lilts, ordering two drinks. One for himself, the other he shoves to you. Your eyes meet with Evie’s above the cup, and you’re hardly able to bear your guilt as she sends you a puzzled, upset look before scampering away. Jacob steals her seat without noticing, though he does watch her leave in slight concern.

“Something happened?” he asks. You wait for the long, unending chug he takes of his pint before answering, shaking your head.

“It was nothing,” you convince. To distract him, you take a sip of his given drink next. The taste is strong, sharp and-

You cough madly after swallowing, slamming the cup down on the counter. “This is revolting!” you croak, then take another long sip—An abomination, but still addictive. Jacob bursts into laughter, clinking his glass with yours before you two match your next drink out of the cups.

Either the drink’s repulsiveness is slowly making you dizzy, or the alcohol itself is getting to you, you can’t exactly tell. Shaking your head, face twisting the unsavoury taste away, Jacob watches you in amusement. He’s already downing a couple more glasses with much more ease than you are.

“Easy now,” he coaxes, hand brushing on your shoulder as you cough. “There’s no need to force yourself, you know?”

“I’m not,” you drink again, then splutter the content out back into the cup. “Okay, nevermind. Enough of that.”

“Wise choice.”

A hand pressing onto the temple of your head, Jacob’s hand running up and down your back soothes the growing headache, the blurriness that is slowly yet surely taking over your sight. You feel... light. Careless. Free of shackles. You could punch someone right now and you still wouldn’t give a damn.

...Is this what being inebriated feels like?

“(Y/N),” you hear Jacob call, a bit muffled through your ear. “Are you still thinking of leaving London?”

“You’ve already taken my letter,” you say, louder than needed. Words are coming out a bit broken out of you. “Don’t see elsewhere I could go.”

“Not planning to write another letter then?” he asks teasingly and you send a playful glare in return.

“Jacob Frye, sir, are you trying to make me leave by force? How unkind.”

His hands lift in surrender. “Now, now, you know I’d never do such a thing. Not to you, love.” That again. Doesn’t he realise how warm he makes you feel from such a name?

“...I never wanted to leave in the first place,” you murmur. “Didn’t ever want to, even as I was writing that stupid letter to the stupid Council. Still don’t want to.” There’s no filter for you, none whatsoever. Self-control has gone right out the window for tonight.

Even Jacob looks surprised, though he wears a light smile alongside, seemingly enjoying the small rebellion you’re putting up. “Wow, someone’s drank a bit too much, haven’t they?”

You huff at his words, then whirl around to face him. “What of you, then?”

“What? Leave London?” he asks in confusion, and you shake your head with vigour, letting out an impatient whine.

“No! I’ve told you what happened to me, what I’ve been through,” you fish out your pen from your person, then tap the edge of it onto the shilling of his necklace resting on his chest. He blinks in surprise, not expecting you to get a bit too close. “What of this? Did you kill someone with this too?”

You see him refraining himself from laughter. “I know I’m good, but killing someone with nothing but a coin is a bit too much to expect from any assassin, don’t you think?”

“So no hidden meaning?”

“Just that it makes me look more desirable,” he simpers.

You nod seriously. “Understandable.” 

“What?”

“And this?” You tap a finger just by his brow, leaning in for a closer look of the scar right above his right eye. “Where did you get this from?”

He stutters for some reason, then you see his eyes wide, that they’re on you in awe.

“I don’t... remember exactly,” he finally says, voice a tad bit weak.

“Unfortunate. And this,” you reach to trace the scar down his jaw, just slightly grazing his stubble—He tenses immediately when you palm it as gently as you could against your hand. “This must’ve hurt a lot.”

Jacob stares at you in an almost speechless manner, but it lasts for only a brief moment before he visibly softens, eyes half-lidded in what seems to resemble an entrance. There’s something... different—Kind, affectionate in his eyes, something you’ve noticed from time to time, from the moments where he’s looked at you from afar, and sometimes even from when you’re so close to him as you are now, the thrumming of your heartbeat loud and clear for him to hear.

The tender smile he gives you makes you forget of everything, everyone else around you. He intends to say something, perhaps another of his uplifting jokes, one more of the endless row of his sassy remarks, but-

Your name out of his lips isn’t complete, not when you’re now slanting your own in between his. A light touch, a connection that is barely there, yet you feel it more than your body could harbour its weight—The sparks the short, delicate kiss release are enough to finally snap you out of the dreamlike haziness you were losing yourself in. Realisation sets in like cold, freezing water drenching onto you.

With a gasp, you push yourself away from him, dread tearing you down so intensely, you wouldn’t know where to begin to remedy this mess. Did you really just- with Jacob?

“I-” you start, struggling to avoid from looking at him directly, not even a bit if possible. “I’m so sorry-”

“I’m not,” you hear him, just before you feel yourself being pulled right back, into his arms. Whatever it is you try to say, it’s futile now, now when Jacob is relentlessly kissing you on the lips, compensating what you lacked in the one you gave him.

You’re much too bewildered to do anything else but simply stand there, though you do have to brace yourself against his chest when he presses you close, even closer into him. Melting isn’t enough to describe the disastrous state you’ve become, more like... swooning. And it only further intensifies when he hums sweetly against your lips, sounding pleased.

Jacob barely lets you go even after he pulls away. You’ve as if been struck by lightning, staring back at him in horror. It doesn’t help when he only chuckles at your reaction, then stealing just the quickest, softest kiss from your lips, smiling contently all the while, before he’s walking away—He’s completely leaving you, after all that.

A silhouette now fading into the crowd, you’re gaping on your own, never blinking from the spot he disappeared, through the people still dancing, spinning to the music. Everything’s so loud, it’s all ringing and throbbing inside your head, and Jacob’s little surprise only makes it worse, and still counting over the rest of the night.

Swallowing the nonexistent bile in your throat, you turn and sit back on your stool. Your attention fleets towards the bartender currently wiping a couple of glasses, feeling his eyes examining you. Once he’s sure you’re looking at him, he sends you what seems to be a congratulatory wink, signaling towards where Jacob once stood. ...Damn it, he saw all of that?

Beyond flustered, you yank your hood down your face for refuge, and take a sip of your long unattended drink—then spurt it back into the glass.

“...Absolutely disgusting.”

——

haahah a ha a ah this took me so long to finish oh god

Thanks so much for the lovely comments @multi-fandom-ficrecs @carolinecrazyangel @aikeia Gods you guys make it all so worth it 😭😭😭 Also let me know if you’d rather not be tagged like this, I could simply reply back on the post next time!

Thanks so much for reading! 💕💕💕