Summary: New Years Eve with Jacob. Set after the events of Syndicate and Jacob is married to the reader.
Warnings: None really. Bit of suggestion towards the end.
Author’s Note: Well, I intended to post this last night but I fell asleep at 9. So I’m posting this a bit late. I tried to do a little bit of researching about traditions around this time in London. I found a few things, but if anyone sees anything that isn’t accurate, please let me know. Also - minor proof reading. I think I caught all of the glaring errors. Hope you enjoy this, and I hope everyone had a safe and fun New Years! May 2018 bring great things!
The night air nipped along the exposed skin of your face as you rounded the corner of your house. A child-like excitement thrummed softly in your belly, melding with the eager chatter of party-goers stumbling around the main streets. While not a life-changing event, you always looked forward to welcoming in the new year with the rest of the residents of London. It was the marking of the next chapter in the lives of many; new families, unions, advances in knowledge and technology, the possibilities were endless. Of course tragedy could always strike, but you liked to think of the more positive aspects of life.
After all, this city was a good example in of itself. The reign the Templars had on the city of London lasted nearly a hundred years, and a little over ten years ago the Frye twins had wrested it from their grasps. With a steady hold on the city, and a new found alliance between the Indian sect of the brotherhood, the world had finally settled into a peaceful lull. Now the task was to maintain that peace, keeping track of any Templar activity nearby.
Panting softly, your breath misting in the air, you found what you were looking for. A couple of stacked crates was the perfect platform to lift yourself up onto the roof of the two story dwelling. The shingles dotting the roof were slick beneath your boots, but years of practice allowed you to keep your balance until you were successfully seated at the edge. Your legs dangled precariously above the ground, careful not to block the view of any windows that overlooked the small square.
The tradition of gathering in front of St. Paul's Cathedral had become a pleasure to many of the good common folk. Though thought to be rambunctious and immoral, it didn't seem to stop the ringing of the bells every year. Huffing contently, you glanced up at the sky, the stars twinkling brightly despite the lit gaslights and various sparkling lights glinting up from the streets.
Stilling, you cocked your head as you caught the quieted thumps of heavy boots against the roof. Jacob appeared beside you, plopping down with several bottles in hand. He had matured in the ten years you had been married – his hair had been cropped and slicked back in a style you could only call attractive, and the creases around his hazel eyes had deepened. Yet, everything about him was still Jacob. He still had that smug and confident smirk that made you want to smack him upside the head, along with the mischievous glint in his eye that could only mean he was up to no good.
When Evie had moved to India with Henry, Jacob had stepped up to the plate to take over the operations in London. The new found responsibility hadn't robbed him of his antics, however. You both got into plenty of trouble, and it wasn't like London had burned to the ground now that the sensible Frye twin had left.
Jacob offered you a bottle, seemingly pleased with himself when you took it, lifting it slightly to your lips. Taking a drink, you lowered the bottle to rest lightly on the edge of the roof between your knees, wobbling it back and forth slightly in an attempt to soothe your impatience. “Is Emmett asleep?” you asked.
Jacob took a swig off of his own bottle. “Of course, love,” he said softly, as if he could accidentally wake your son with a louder reply. “Though I'm not sure for how much longer.”
He glanced back down to the street with the rowdy patrons, their voices rising the closer it got to midnight. Despite Jacob's misgivings, you knew your son would sleep through the celebrations. Emmett was much like his father in that regard; a herd of stampeding elephants couldn't wake them from their slumber. You knew – you had tried on several occasions to rouse both Frye boys in order to get somewhere on time.
Scooting over, you leaned into Jacob's warmth, appreciating the arm that came to rest around your waist. He offered you a small smile, his lips pressing against your hair as he tugged you closer. As your cheek came to rest against his shoulder you inhaled gently. A comforting mixture of leather, mint, and gunpowder engulfed you, relaxing a tension you weren't aware you were holding in your shoulders.
“Three...two...” Jacob murmured softly against your hair.
“One!” The crowd roared below as Big Ben began to rumble in the distance, closely followed by the cathedral's bells.
“To another year,” you toasted, holding your bottle up.
Jacob's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle as he knocked his bottle up against yours. Instead of taking a drink, he pressed his lips against yours. They were warm and soft, allowing you to lose yourself in him. They brought back memories of your courtship, of days bygone filled with sweet stolen kisses. It filled your chest with a pleasant warmth as you drew away, your breaths mingling.
Beer bottles forgotten, lying haphazardly on the roof's edge, Jacob pulled you into his lap. His arms linked around your back, securing you against his strong chest as his lips founds yours again. Automatically your hands came up, trailing over the rough stubble along his jaw as you returned each kiss fervently.
The fiery kisses and heated touches stretched through the fading of Big Ben's last toll, leaving you among the fading cheers of the drunken crowd. Jacob leaned back slightly, breaking off a kiss as he panted lightly. That familiar spark of mischief glinted in his eyes as he offered you a lopsided grin.
“Shall we take this inside, Mrs. Frye?”
The rough edge to his voice sent a shiver down your spine as you gave him a sly smile of your own and nodded. His grin spread further across his lips as he tenderly pushed you to your feet, ensuring you were steady before rising. Before he could process what you were doing, you carefully pulled your elbow free from his grasp and hurried towards the opposite edge of the roof.
“Catch me if you can, Mr. Frye,” you threw over your shoulder.
“Cheeky little thing,” Jacob muttered, taking after you carefully over the roof.
I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE your stories, I think I’ve read each one more than once!!! Any chance you might be wiring some more or continuing others??
You are too sweet for words. Thank you so much; it means a lot to me! I have a bunch of half written things. Work has been a cluster-you-know-what. I’ve been thinking of looking for someone who would be willing to beta read and help me bounce things around (basically help me keep on track if I get stuck). Sometimes a second fresh mind helps. So if anyone is interested, shoot me a message. Love ya’ll! ❤️
Summary: Reader moves to London to escape her ties with her father and the Templar Order. In the process she makes friends with Jacob Frye and comes to the realization the world is a small place. Eventual Jacob x f!Reader.
Warnings: None as of now.
Author’s Note: Okay, here is part 2. Still a little bit slower than I wanted but I think I have some super cute ideas for the next part now that I’m over this hump. Please excuse any weirdness on Jacob’s part. I’ve been revisiting cut scenes to get a feel for him again but I still feel like I need to stretch my legs a bit. Enjoy! <3 <3 And I hope I got this tag thing right too.
Part 1 <-Here
You could barely suppress the soft groan that slipped from your lip as the sun beat in through the thin coverings. By the time you had arrived at your destination you must have been more exhausted than you thought; not only was it rather late in the morning, but you didn't remember the room having a window. Blinking slowly, you attempted to scrub the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand as you sat up.
The chair was still firmly wedged beneath the door handle – a good sign that no one had attempted to bother getting in during the night. Freezing, you heard the distant chime of Big Ben, signaling that it was ten in the morning. You were going to be late if you didn't hurry up.
Throwing the covers back, you leaped from the bed and immediately began to pull the simple shirt and trousers off. Being sure to fold them neatly, and to put the bed back as it had been before, you dressed in the previous day's dress. It looked a bit ruffled, a few wrinkles creasing the skirts, but overall you deemed that it would be good enough to get back to your rented room. In a last ditch effort to look as if you hadn't just rolled out of bed, you attempted to tame your hair, praying you didn't look like a little urchin.
Satisfied as you could be without a mirror, you removed the chair from under the handle and set it neatly back at the desk. The door opened into a hallway that was empty save for a few pieces of furniture. To the left you could hear faint voices and the clinking of mugs, no doubt the men Jacob had mentioned last night. Speaking to a bunch of strangers wasn't exactly on your to-do list at the moment, so instead you decided to go to the right where you faintly remembered the front door being.
As you turned the corner you stopped short of running into a very tall solid man, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It wasn't Jacob, but someone you didn't recognize. He towered over you and was quite imposing, but he didn't frighten you. Instead, he offered you a warm smile that was almost as bright as his freshly shaved head. The bright green plaid shirt he wore accompanied by suspenders and light tan breeches was suiting, but it made you wonder if you had seen it somewhere before.
Brushing it off, you bowed your head slightly. “My apologies, sir,” you said softly.
“Forgive me, miss. You must be Ms. [Y/N],” he replied, nodding.
You cocked your brow, but nodded as well. “Yes, but I'm afraid I must be going.”
“Of course, I wouldn't want to hold you up. Did you grab something to eat?”
The low growl in your stomach in reply nearly made you grimace. You hadn't eaten since you had left the orphanage last night, and the thought of scrounging something up wasn't very appealing. At the very least the stalls in the market would be open and you could grab some bread and cheese on your way home. After a moment, you shook your head in answer to his question.
“No, I haven't.”
“Please, allow me to make something up for you.”
“Oh... I couldn't... I don't want to-”
“I insist,” he said, flashing another soft smile before gesturing to the rest of the hallway stretching out behind you.
Sighing inwardly, you returned his smile – though it was more halfheartedly than anything – and followed him to the room where you had heard the muted conversations earlier. When you entered it was larger than you had imagined. The table sat quite a few men, most speaking loudly and merrily, though a hush fell on the room as you entered. A small hearth sat off to the side, various pots and pants strewn around the cooking area.
You swallowed thickly as you surveyed the rest of the room. Most of the men were dressed in some variation of a matching uniform. They all had some article of clothing on that was green, but then it varied from there. Some were thin, some tall, but none of them was the man who had brought you here last night.
“Lads, this is Miss [Y/N], our guest. Miss [Y/N], this is Albert, Bruce, Otis, Lester, Luther and Miles,” the man behind you said, gesturing to each man. “And I am Lenny.”
“Oh... it's very nice to meet you all,” you offered politely with a small smile and a wave.
Each man greeted you just as politely. Lenny pulled out a chair for you, allowing you to sit before he pushed it up to the table.
“Thank you,” you said softly. “I really don't want to put you through too much trouble.”
You could feel the color rising to your cheeks as the man you slightly remembered as Lester set a plate in front of you. Luther brought some silverware, and Otis set a fresh plate of meats and cheeses on the table. The room began to fill with the strong scent of eggs and bacon, making your mouth water as the men gave you space.
Several of the men, you noted, looked as if they had had a rough night. Still slightly disheveled, it was clear that a bought of drinking had happened. You hardly held it against them though as Lester tried to engage you in conversation. He asked little questions – how long had you been in London? Did you have family in the area? Common sorts until Luther smacked him in the shoulder.
“Pardon m'brother, ma'am,” he said in a thick accent.
“It's quite alright,” you said, smiling. “I don't know many people here. It's much larger than where I'm from.”
Lenny shot the group a hard stare before setting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of you. “Here you are,” he said, returning to make another batch for the group.
“Lenny is quite the chef,” Otis chimed in, his mustache twitching as he took a sip from a cup of tea.
That you had to agree with as you delicately spooned the eggs into your mouth. It was quite delicious, seasoned better than anything you had done. The question of where exactly he had learned to cook died in your throat as you continued to eat. Coupled with the bacon, buttered bread, and cold meats you felt better than you had in a while. The men continued to joke and laugh, losing their interest in you for the moment. It was a relief, and allowed you to finish your meal without any interruptions.
Another man with a bowler hat set a cup of tea next to your plate as he retrieved one for himself. You thanked him softly and took a sip, enjoying the warmth spreading through to your fingertips. It was a pity you had to work today; their joy was infectious, and sitting there for the rest of the day with them was beginning to become more inviting.
Suddenly the room fell silent and all of the men stood up as two figures entered the room. You froze, the tea cup still between your hands, hovering above the saucer as a familiar voice flooded the room. Oh no. A sudden surge of self-consciousness forced you to set the cup down, your hands dropping to your lap. Was your hair tamed? Did you look like a scene from a tale meant to scare children?
“Good morning, lads,” Jacob said exuberantly, breaking through your thoughts.
“’Ey, boss,” they chimed.
Jacob's expression seemed to light up as he saw you at the head of the table, though the woman standing beside him didn't seem as impressed. They looked alike, and you wondered if this was the sister he had mentioned the night before. Slowly you began to make connections between the uniforms and the implied leadership of the ragtag gang. This must be the emerging group you had been hearing about from your neighbor.
In a last ditch effort to not stand out, you rose from your chair, your hands clasped loosely against your stomach. “Mr. Frye,” you said softly.
“You must be [Y/N],” the woman said, her tone even and pleasant, though you could feel your stomach squirming under her gaze.
“Yes. A pleasure to meet you...?”
“Evie Frye.”
So she was indeed his sister. For a moment you couldn't help but admired how beautiful she was with the freckles dotting her cheeks, highlighting her bright blue eyes. The strength that radiated from her momentarily made you feel small. Your gaze snapped to the window as you heard the bell of Big Ben ring again, signaling that another hour had gone by. Panic pooled in your stomach as you looked back to the group.
“I apologize. I really have to go, or I'm going to be late for work.”
Lenny seemed to notice your distress and sauntered over, grabbing your empty plate from the table. “I'll handle this, miss.”
“Allow me,” Jacob offered, gesturing with a hand to the door.
“Oh, I can get there just fine. I have to speak to my landlord anyways,” you insisted.
Their hospitality was slightly overwhelming, and you were beginning to feel as if you were overstaying your welcome - especially since you hardly knew these people aside from their names. Jacob seemed slightly taken aback, and you were sure he was going to push back until he offered a slight nod.
“To the door, then.” He left little room for argument as he stepped forward. The gang bid you farewell, which you elegantly returned, taking a moment to thank each of them.
Jacob walked slightly in front of you, guiding you out and down the long hallway you had attempted to sneak out of earlier. As you left the room you could feel Evie's gaze drilling into your back, a shiver running up your spine. It was almost like she could see straight into your soul, searching – but for what you weren't sure. Trying to push it away to the back of your mind, you looked up as Jacob pulled the door open.
A flood of sunlight came through the gaping doorway, pressing a pleasant warmth along your exposed skin. Trying to swallow past the lump in your throat, you stepped around the young man, turning to look at him once you were on the cobblestone path.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Frye. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“Jacob is fine,” he said, holding up a hand. “You are welcome whenever you may like.” He gave you a wink and a flash of a smug smirk, causing the heat to return to your cheeks along with a small tinge of pink.
Charming that one.
If you were bold you might have even given him a peck on the cheek in thanks for his hospitality. But you weren't quite that forward, so instead you allowed a smile to tug at the edges of your lips. “I may take you up on it. Until we meet again, Jacob.”
You turned on your heel, walking somewhat hurriedly down the path dare you do something to shatter the illusion that everything was in fact alright. Now you had other matters to attend to, and they were going to be difficult to do if the youngest Frye twin continued to plague your thoughts.
The walk back to the boarding house had gone by considerably faster than you had expected with your mind wandering. Nothing had been worthy of your attention – not even the brilliantly colored stalls and the screaming children had been enough to pull you away from your thoughts. Shaking your head, you stepped up to the house and jiggled the handle, finding it locked as firmly as the night prior.
You huffed out a breath between your teeth with a soft hiss as you looked around. The windows were shuttered, preventing any prying eyes from peeking into the house. Ducking down into the alley way butting up against the house, you noticed that several of the rooms had broken windows. A frown creased your brow as you looped around the back of the house through the neatly manicured gate.
Sitting next to the back door was a pile of items, all of which you recognized as belonging to various tenants. Your stomach began to tie itself in knots as you hurried over, digging through the pile until you found your bag stuffed with your belongings rather messily. All of your clothing was wrinkled and balled up – a completely loss of hours of tediously pressing them.
Your books spilled out as you bent over to try to neatly tuck the ends back into the bag. An unladylike curse slipped from your lips as you hurriedly picked them up.
“The 'ouse was taken back by the bank,” a voice quipped behind you, causing you to whip around and nearly lose the books nestled against your chest.
“What?” you breathed, reaching up to tuck a stray chunk of hair back into its place.
“The bank took it,” a rather large woman said, shaking her head. “Now we got no place t'go.”
You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder at the three story house. “Oh,” you mumbled, turning back too look at her. “Where are you staying?”
“The slums. Me sister lives there.”
That wasn't going to do you any good. The distant chime of Big Ben reminded you that you weren't going to have a job if you didn't get going either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you straightened and bowed your head slightly to the older woman. “Thank you. I must be going.”
“A'right.”
The woman seemed to lose interest in you as you pushed past her, shoving the books into your bag. Perhaps the orphanage would have an open room if you offered to work for Ms. Penny. She was a kind woman and could certainly use the help with all of the children she had in her care. Or perhaps the owner of the shop you worked in would allow you to sleep in the backroom until you had a place to stay. He and his wife had become like family, and you owed them a lot.
Sighing, you blinked the desperate tears from your eyes as you hurried down the street. It would work out – it had to. You weren't about to go running back to your father.
“Thank you, Mr. Wiltshire,” you said.
“Of course. I wish we could do more for you, but at least you won't be hungry,” your employer said as his wife handed you a basket with some dried meat and bread. “Here's a little extra. Take the day off tomorrow and see if you can find a place.”
“That's so kind of you. I'll pay you back, I swear.”
He waved you off, offering you a soft smile. He was a short portly man with glasses that were too small for his face. He was balding, and his graying hair stuck out at odd angle above his ears. The creases along his face were warm and told the story of a hard working but gentle laborer. His wife was just as short and wide with peppered long gray hair that was pulled back in a tight bun. Her dress was layered in shades of gray that matched her hair, complete with a white apron across her middle.
“Don't worry about it, dear,” his wife said, patting your arm. “Come back in a few days rested and right.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Giving them one last forced smile, your turned and began your journey down the street, basket and bag in tow. The coming of dusk had brought a hush down on the streets that would surely burst into song and loud drunken babbles now that night was descending on the city. It seemed to be a popular pastime for the workers in the city – one that you didn't exactly indulge in. Getting black out drunk and wandering the streets didn't seem pleasant, and surely the morning after was anything but.
But perhaps a drink – no, you needed to save your money and find a place to live. Squabbling it away on drink was exactly the wrong thing to do, and if you weren't careful you were going to find yourself on the wrong side of a creditor.
“Ah, there you are.”
That familiar charming silky smooth voice brought you out of your daze. The upturned smirk and flashing hazel eyes made dread pool in your belly. Wetting your lips slightly, you gave him the same forced smile you had given your employers.
“Jacob,” you greeted pleasantly.
“I thought I might return this to you,” he said smoothly, holding out a book to you.
“Thank you. I must have completely forgotten about it.” You took it and gingerly put it into your already bulging bag.
Jacob looked between the basket, the bag, and your face, tilting his head slightly. “Going somewhere?”
“Uh, yeah. I was just heading down to the orphanage.”
“The orphanage? This late?”
He sure was nosy for someone who hadn't known you very long. It was almost off putting, leaving a bitter taste in the back of your throat. You hadn't started peppering him with questions, and being extended the same courtesy would have been nice. Nevertheless, you swallowed the nasty after taste of shame and annoyance to answer him.
“Yes, the orphanage.” You frowned and shifted the bag on your shoulder to alleviate the pain from the strap digging into your skin. “Surely there's somewhere you must be, Mr. Frye. I would hate to take up all of your time now that you've returned my book.”
Jacob snorted softly; if he was offended he didn't show it. Instead he gestured to the things you were carrying. “May I offer some assistance then?”
“I've got it. You've done more than enough.”
Your tone was getting sharper with a note of distress the longer you stood there. If you were to get to the orphanage any later you would risked missing Ms. Penny and waking whomever was on night duty. Not to mention the eager faces that would press themselves up against the glass if they were to get wind that you had stopped by.
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get rid of me,” the young man drawled.
You weren't getting anywhere with this, and an attempt to shoulder past him was met with him stubbornly following you down the street.
“I have a proposition for you.” You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, nearly causing him to lose his balance as he side-stepped around you. Brushing some imaginary dust from the front of his jacket he allowed a small smile to crawl across his lips. “I know of a place you can stay.”
“How-”
Jacob cut you off, holding up his hand. “You can have the room and all I ask in return is some assistance with a few affairs.”
“Have... have you been stalking me?!” Your tone was incredulous as you nervously glanced between him and the nearest pub, which was beginning to spill over with patrons. If you had to scream it would surely be heard by everyone is a several block radius. Before you could even begin to think of opening your mouth to holler Jacob continued his ramble.
“I wouldn't call it 'stalking' you. Now what do you say? I do believe it would be a benefit to us both.”
“And I don't suppose any of these 'affairs' are illegal?”
“Oh, no, of course not. Simple things, some book keeping, perhaps a bit of the upkeep.”
You stared at him suspiciously, but his charming grin didn't falter as you wavered. He obviously didn't mean you any harm – if that was the case he could have easily done something the previous night. The men that morning had been very welcoming, made you breakfast even; not to mention you didn't have anywhere else to go at the moment. You weren't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Mr. Frye was giving you an easy way to put a roof over your head without being outright insulting.
“Alright,” you conceded, allowing him to take the bag from you.
“Excellent!” Jacob chirped, slinging the bag over his shoulder as you began to walk together in the opposite direction. “This is going to be a wonderful partnership.”
Hey guys! Thanks again for your patience :) My brother and I were able to get the laptop back up and running. Thank goodness because I’m not sure if it’s me (it probably is, let’s be honest with ourselves here) but I really do not get along with Tumblr’s mobile app. I can browse on it just fine but when it comes to writing/responding I have a hard time. I’ll be posting Little Town part 2 here in a moment and I’m hoping to get a request posted here in the next few days granted I don’t work a bunch.
Seriously, this just isn't my week 🙄 my computer has crapped out and I'm in the process of trying fresh installs on everything. Due to this I've lost a lot so now I'm writing on my phone. I appreciate your patience as I attempt to figure this out. The stupid thing isn't even six months old so I guess it's a good thing it's still under warranty. But seriously. Thanks, Dell.
Omg you're back! You did my very first request for me just as I was getting into the AC fandom ☺️. It's great to see you on my dash again.
Hi Anon! 😊 I'm glad I could be a part of your coming into the fandom ❤️and glad to hear from you! When I am able to get caught up I hope to hear from you again 💕
Summary: Overall - Reader moves to London to escape her ties with her father and the Templar Order. In the process she makes friends with Jacob Frye and comes to the realization the world is a small place. Eventual Jacob x f!Reader.
Warnings: None as of now.
Author’s Note: Oh dear, what is this? I don’t even really know to be honest. I’ve been poking it with a pointy stick all day, but I told myself it was going up. It’s a bit slow at first, but now that intros are done there should be some Frye fun. You’ll probably notice it has some inspiration from Beauty and the Beast, as I’ve been watching it all week. Whoops. Good news - I still have a job and got a promotion of sorts. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Now that I’m stretching my legs (and hopefully not butchering Mr. Frye) I’m hoping to get some requests out. Much love <3
The sun had barely risen above the horizon when you made your way to the station. Faint whispers hovered in clumps of mumbled conversations, none of which you paid any particular attention to. There was nothing worth your attention in this small little corner of the quaint little village you had called home for the last ten years of your life. A variety of people littered the station's boarding area – more than you thought there would be at this time of the morning. The children looked considerably duller than their parents, but you had to admit you would be too if the thrill of adventure hadn't been thrumming through your veins. Adrenaline crept up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as the large steam engine came pulling into the station.
A frown tugged at the corner of your lips as a group of women fell silent in the brief moment you walked past, their eyes bearing down on you. Soon all of that would be behind you. The gossiping whispers – the side-eyed looks - all of it would disappear the moment you stepped into London. London was too big of a city to draw much attention to yourself, much unlike here where everyone knew everyone else. Your father's wealthy and powerful reputation had not spared you the mumbled breathless comments of 'odd girl'.
Perhaps that was something to be proud of. You had branched away from family tradition, losing yourself for hours in books, sometimes while wandering the outer lying fields. Escape was always at your fingertips, even when your father was scolding you for straying from your preordained purpose. You were not meant to be a Templar as he so readily declared; you had decided that long ago. Though you agreed that the Order's purpose was certainly ambitious, it wasn't a place you could see yourself staying. There was so much to see and do in the world, and this little place was not going to further that.
Your younger brother had always been a better study anyways.
Hesitating, you looked over your shoulder, swearing you could almost see your father's angry and disappointed face staring back at you. But it wasn't. He wasn't standing in the crowd, his arms crossed sternly over a chest bearing the symbol of the Order. No, there were only ordinary people in an ordinary place.
The steam engine's whistle shrieked unhappily as the brakes squeaked the massive contraption to a stop. The cars were filed neatly behind it, painted a dark green color. It was a nice sophisticated contrast to the jet black engine sitting at the helm. People exited, oblivious to everything going on around them it seemed. Once they were clear, the small group of waiting passengers began to board. No one shoved or jostled another, instead patiently waiting their turn. Even the children remained compliant as their mothers ushered them forward.
Uncertainty had begun to settle like a rock in the pit of your stomach, lodging what felt like pebbles of doubt in your throat. No, now was not the time for soul searching, as if you could somehow convince yourself that this was where you were meant to stay. Steeling yourself, you straightened, adjusted a pack that was sitting slightly heavier on your shoulder, and strode through the mouth of the car. You were going to do this – you were going to go to a place where you could start over, where no one would know your name.
You were going to London.
Tugging the shawl tighter around your shoulders, you tilted your head to let the warmth of the spring sun run along your jaw and cheek. It was a relief from the still frigid air, a small glimpse of hope that summer was coming. Bringing your gaze back down to the cobblestone street, your eye trailed over the people slowly coming out of their homes. Women dressed in fabrics of muted blues, greens, and browns filed down the way, some accompanied by children, empty baskets resting in the crooks of their elbows.
London was slowly coming to life, and it was time for you to hurry to the orphanage. Clutching a weathered book to your chest, you looked both ways before stepping into the street, weaving through the variously decorated stalls. Vendors boasted their wares, some of which you were sure were exaggerated, their tables littered with colorful food and flowers. Turning, you begun to walk towards the bridge when a hand came out to stop you.
Whirling around, you frowned as a finely dressed young man held out a bright yellow daisy to you. He was a familiar face – one you had seen around town every once in a while. Though you had never spoken to him, he gave you the impression that he was mostly harmless. His bright hazel eyes were sparkling with a mischievous mirth, coupled with a charming smirk that made him rather cute. Add in the dash of slicked back brown hair beneath his cap and you would even dare to call him handsome.
You opened your mouth, about to decline the offer as you were sure he was going to try to sell it to you, when he spoke. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady. Enjoy your day, miss.”
His voice was smooth as silk, though friendly, and all the anxious tension in your back melted away. You reached out, taking the delicate flower from his fingers. “Thank you, sir,” you said, offering him a small smile before turning back to go on your way.
Yet, as you walked towards the Thames, you felt a chill run up your spine as if you were being watched. Your pace faltered as you glanced over your shoulder. No one immediately stood out as suspicious. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own business, bustling around as more bodies began to fill the streets. A part of you had expected to see the man with bright hazel eyes and charming smile. Instead, no one seemed to realize you even existed, which was a relief in itself.
Laughing softly under your breath at yourself, you shook your head and continued walking, crossing the broad river. You were being absolutely ridiculous; several months had already passed since your arrival in London. If nothing else, your father was a very resourceful man, and if he wanted to find you he would have already. It wasn't as if he didn't know where you had gone, either. At the end of your last dispute you had made it clear that you were leaving for the city – not to mention it was overrun with members of the Order. Perhaps not a good choice for a getaway.
The excitement of your new found freedom still simmered in your blood, and you didn't want to lose that.
Drawing yourself up, you began to cross the wide river, the daisy pressed gently against the leather bound book. The carriages rumbled past, the horses' hooves clapping rhythmically against the stones. Your boots carried the same beat as you made it to the other side, hanging a right onto a small side street that would wind through the clustered homes to the City of London district.
The back alleys were considerably quieter, only the occasional stray dog and line of drying laundry to be seen. It made the rest of the journey only that much more pleasant. You preferred to use your walks to and from the orphanage as time for reflection.
Emerging back into the sunlight lazily draped across the brick buildings, you turned left and then hung a quick right, following the street up to a small cute little building. It was made of the same brick as the rest of the surrounding structures. The only difference was the roof had quite the patch job and the paint on the low fence needed to be touched up. The path leading up to the door was uneven, creating a hazard if one wasn't careful. Still, it filled your belly with warmth as you pressed the gate open. It creaked and groaned in protest under your touch, but quickly fell silent as you allowed it to fall closed behind you.
Even from the fence you could hear several excited squeals inside. Several little red faces peered out from the large window, their quick breaths fogging up the glass. “[Y/N]!” a little girl squealed as she pulled the wooden door open.
She couldn't have been more than seven, and was always eager to be the first to greet you when stopped by. “Sophie,” you greeted pleasantly, wrapping your arms around her gently as she ran to you. “Come, let's go grab the others. We can sit outside during lessons today.”
The girl giggled happily, her bright red curly hair bouncing around her shoulders as she tore back into the building to grab the other children. An older woman with short peppered hair stood in the doorway, leaning against it lightly as she watched the exchange. She didn't seem cross, or even phased by the squealing. “Ms. Penny,” you said lightly, tipping your head.
“Welcome, [Y/N]. I must stop by the market today. I don't supposed you would mind watching the children while I go? Ms. Caroline won't be in until later, and I would prefer to get started early with the cooking,” the older woman asked.
“Of course not, Ms. Penny. We'll be fine, as long as John doesn't start a fight this time,” you joked, your mind briefly flitting to when the young boy had nearly started an all out brawl over a few pieces of candy.
Ms. Penny rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Only heaven knows how I have patience for that child.”
“You're a saint,” you offered with a small smile. “Go on, then. We're going to get started.”
The older woman nodded and expressed her thanks before reentering the small house. Not a moment after her disappearance seven children came filing out. They were a mix of boys and girls between the ages of four and nine. Some had missing teeth, their gap-toothed smiles radiant as they saw you. Others were merely gruff looking, but you could easily see past the indifference.
“Ready?” you asked easily.
“Yes, Ms. [Y/N],” they replied in unison.
Satisfied, you smoothed the skirts of your dress and sat down on the edge of a stone bench, opening the book to the latest chapter. The group crowded around you, each vying for the seats closest to you. Sophie had managed to wiggle into your lap, her fingers tracing the words on the page as you began to read out loud. With the warmth of the sun on your back, you lost yourself in the ink and paper.
“Goodnight, Ms. Penny,” you said, offering her a smile. With a full belly you were more than happy to trudge back to your bed. It was a humble little room out of many in the building, but it was yours. To be honest, you really couldn't wait to get back to continue reading the book you had started the night before.
“Are you sure you'll be alright?” Ms. Penny asked, a hint of worry in her voice as she glanced up at the darkening sky. It had taken on darker tones of blue, casting a shadow down on the city that was only broken by the gas lights dotting the street.
“I'll be fine,” you assured. “It really isn't that far.”
“Goodnight then. We will see you next week.”
Bowing your head, you turned and began to make your way back to the bridge. Your boots clanked lightly against the street, the book at its usual place against your chest. The only difference was the daisy lightly pressed between its pages. The petals held their shape, though the stem drooped slightly from a day's use as a bookmark. Scrunching your nose against the pungent smell of tobacco, you decided to take the main road back to the Thames. The journey would have been quicker by carriage, but the little money you had in your pockets had to be saved for your landlord.
Cocking your head, you noticed several men standing off to the side, chatting quietly. Their bright red jackets made you inwardly cringe. The local gang was well known, though there were rumors going around that a new crew had taken up residence in Whitechapel. It wasn't news you had kept close attention to, but your neighbor had a mouth the size of the borough, so it was impossible not to hear.
Shrugging the uneasiness away with a good roll of your shoulders, you kept your eyes on the road in front of you. An indistinct dark shape ahead of you forced tension back into your spine as you tightened your grip on your book. The man took shape, but seemed to take no notice of you as he silently continued.
In several more paces you had come to the familiar bridge spanning the Thames. It looked different in the moonlight, almost sullen, as the hard edges became lined with shadows. The traffic was just as sparse here as it had been back in the streets, giving you at least a little comfort. Glancing over the wall, you noticed how the light reflected off the surface of the water like glass. It certainly made it more beautiful than it was in the daylight. Your steps slowed until they fully stopped. The small village, while beautiful in its own way, had nothing on the city. Against your better judgment you lingered, admiring the stillness of the boats along the docks.
A sound caught your attention, drawing your gaze to a hunched over man leaning against the wall. He seemed ill, but every alarm bell was ringing in the back of your head, drawing you away from him. Turning, the breath was quickly snatched from your lungs as you collided with something very solid. A hand came out to steady you; the touch that lingered was gentle, though the fingers were calloused.
“Pardon me, miss,” a voice you recognized rang softly.
“I'm so sorry,” you breathed, gasping to regain control of your nerves.
The man from the market earlier in the day stood just a pace from you, his head tilted as he observed you for a moment. It was almost uncomfortable the way he stared, the hairs along the back of your neck standing up. He gave a wave of his hand, his sharp gaze moving from you to the man behind you, and then back.
“Please, allow me to walk you home,” he offered.
You hesitated, looking around. “Oh, it's really fine,” you insisted. “Mr.?”
“Jacob Frye at your service,” he replied, glancing around as well. “Wouldn't do for you to run into any trouble on your way home, now would it?”
He was right as much as you hated to admit it. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but the streets of London weren't always forgiving and with it being so late it was taking a bigger chance. Despite your reservations you found yourself nodding. “That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Frye.”
“After you, miss,” he said, flashing you a small grin as he gestured for you to lead the way.
“[Y/N],” you replied, giving him a small smile of your own.
He tipped his hat. “[Y/N],” he repeated, almost as if he was testing to see how it would roll off his tongue.
The two of you walked in relative silence, asking a question here and there about the other but not too much as to be invasive. You had to admit it was kind of nice to have the company, and it felt short lived as you approached the door to the building. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a key, only to have confusion and panic hit you as it failed to open the lock. Heat flushed your cheeks a bright pink that was hidden by the dark as you cleared your throat and tried again.
“Oh, well, this is awkward,” you choked out, glancing around. “This is the right place, I swear. I don't understand why I can't get in.”
Jacob raised a brow and looked at the door, trailing up the side of the building. None of the windows were open, leaving him with the option of breaking one of them out. While normally he may not have thought twice about it, he doubted you wanted shattered glass all over the place. Instead, he cleared his throat softly and looked at you, noting the distress lines creasing your brow.
“If I may?”
You looked at him questioningly, your stomach knotting as you rubbed the skin along your arms. When you remained silent he continued. “I have a place not far from here with an empty room. You are welcome to it, and I'm sure my sister has left some of her things there.”
Alarm tightened the muscles along your neck and shoulders, uneasiness threatening to suffocate you. As you considered your options, you realized they were few and rather pitiful. A room sounded much better than freezing to death in the early spring night air. Again you found yourself nodding in agreement.
“I would appreciate it.”
“Right this way, then.” Jacob seemed pleased with your acceptance as he turned, leading the way towards Whitechapel. It didn't take long to come up on a building set apart from the rest. It was several stories tall with various windows, made squarely from wood. It didn't look weathered – normal might be a word you would use to describe it.
Jacob strolled up to the door without a care, opening the door with ease. Despite his self-assured posture, he seemed to tip-toe across the threshold into the darkened house. You followed suit, being as quiet as you could be as he led you to a room not far past the entry way. “Here we are, then,” he whispered, pushing the bedroom door open.
It was a cozy little room with a simple bed, dresser, and desk with chair. The bed was made up with some linens and a candle sat unlit on the polished wooden desk.
“Everything you need should be here. Some of the lads may be here in the morning, so don't be alarmed if you hear them,” he said simply.
“I... thank you, Mr. Frye. I appreciate it.”
You wanted to ask him the dozens of questions that were buzzing in the back of your mind, but the late hour stilled your tongue. On top of exhaustion, it would be rude to ask your host so many questions. Without another word you slipped into the room before you changed your mind and let the door gently shut.
Jacob's footfalls gradually echoed and died, leaving you alone in the foreign room. Taking a deep breath, you quietly wedged the chair under the door handle. It wouldn't hold against any real assault, but it would at least serve as an alarm and give you the opportunity to get your wits about you. In the dresser you found a pair of casual pants and woven shirt. They were a bit loose, but you wouldn't complain.
Climbing into the bed, you finally allowed yourself to relax, the tension seeping away. You didn't have much time to reflect on what had happened as exhaustion tugged at the corners of your mind. There was so much to do in the morning, and you felt obligated to find out more about your proverbial knight in shining armor. But for now, sleep.
So this has been my life these last... oh man, how long has it been? Months. I apologize to everyone who has been waiting to hear from me. I’m going to try to work through my messages and get them answered. I appreciate everyone’s messages and attention. It’s been quite the last several months. As you all know, with my new job, my time has extremely limited and my inspiration gone.
Well, come to find out, I may be losing my job before the holidays. Sucks, huh? The decision isn’t final yet, and it wouldn’t be just me (budget cut layoffs is how it was worded), but it has certainly put a damper on me. To work so hard for something, to put everything you have into making it work, and then to suddenly have the possibility of it being taken away from you? Crappy, let me tell you. My boss said she’ll fight for us, but I’m taking precautions anyways.
So, cross your fingers for me, prayers, whatever it is you do, I could use it. In the mean time, I’ve been trying to exercise my writing skills again, so I’m hoping to get something up.
And requests are going to be closed until I get what I have done. If you’ve previously messaged me, don’t worry, your request will be on my list. I just haven’t gotten that far.
Hey can I request something for Jacob x assassin!reader? Where they're at the pub, getting drunk and making some like a bet, where the reader sings "Jokes Jokes Jokes" by Austin Wintory and everyone joins in and it's fun. a silly request I know :D
I was wondering if everything was all right, glad to hear you're okay! And there's no need to apology, life comes first and our requests will never run away from you. Take all the time you need to write, but most importantly to rest ♥
Thank you, dear <3 I appreciate it so much. You guys have been so wonderful and understanding - it’s a bit overwhelming to be honest (in a good way!).
I don't even normally like reader insert stories but here I am falling in love with your writing and characterization because dear god that sorry with Jacob is adorable and perfect and I'm in awe
Oh, thank you so much! I’m glad to hear you have been enjoying them! :D You’ve brightened my day!
I am curious if you would do a Jacob Frye and Male!Reader. With the fact Jacob is bisexual, people still don't seem to approach the whole male/male thing. I can understand if you do not want to, but I just thought I'd ask. Also, Love your work! Good job! :)
Hey there, dear :) I will definitely add your request to my list! I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m a lady and I think I kind of default to female!reader without completely realize I’m doing it, even when I do my best to keep the reader gender neutral in requests that don’t specify gender.
So, for anyone who has been hesitant in placing a request - don’t be afraid to. I think I may pass on the smut because I don’t feel educated enough to make a decent male/male smut fic, but I will definitely take a look at your requests.
Could you possibly write a Jacob x non-athletic/lazy reader? (Possibly with Jacob trying to teach them to protect themselves, and reader using flattery to try to get out of it.)
Yes! I can already picture it now. I love this idea! It’s added to the list :D
Hello. I was playing Syndicate and noticed there's a sort of Gazebo in the Westminster gardens, so I was thinking... post JtR stuff, it's Jacob's and Reader's anniversary and he makes something really big and romantic for her: a fantastic candle light dinner in that Gazebo, followed by loving words, passionate kisses and maybe a very sweet lovemaking? :) Both of them feeling madly in love just like when they were in their twenties, maybe even planning to conceive another baby...
Oh yes yes yes yesssss!! This is such a fantastic, cute, sweet, amazing idea! I love it :D I’ll add it to my list.
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