The Assassin Bureau: Imagines and Preferences

The Venture: Jacob Frye x Reader

You pulled the hood further over your features and quickened your steps, boots splashing in the shallow puddles that always seemed to keep the cobblestone slick and shimmering. The night was dark but the oil lamps chased back some of the shadows, casting the dilapidated buildings in flickers of yellow hues. There had been just enough places to hide in so that your prey hadn't heard nor seen you approach.

Your heart clenched tight the moment you reached out around his head and cupped a hand over his mouth. His initial fear caused him to struggle but the moment you pressed the blade to his throat he stilled with realization.

"Jacob Frye," you nearly growled the name. "Where is he?" You moved the force of your grasp down to his throat, feeling it bob as he swallowed painfully the tension that overwhelmed him.

His words were muffled by anxiety, "I haven't seen nothing, miss. Heard about it though. Said they caught him down in a gambling den and cornered him." He shuddered at that, a sudden fear that crossed his mind. He betrayed his people. He just gave away important secrets and now his life was forever endanger. "That's all I know. I swear it."

Your tone darkened, coated with acidic impatience, "They caught him in the gambling den. He's not there anymore. I want to know where he is now." You cleared that den, killed anyone and everyone who got in your way. Jacob hadn't been there.

He nearly whimpered when the icy metal of your dagger pressed harder. "Hold up in one of the buildings by the Thames, I think. Southwark. I think it was definitely Southwark."

You dropped your hold away and shoved him roughly into the closest building, his skull cracking against the stonework. He staggered wildly from one foot to the next until he was scurrying deep into the darkness of the closest alley. You should have killed him but you were certain he was more afraid of you than anything else.

You hurried to Southwark. You knew exactly where the Templars had set up shop. In fact, you had that place memorised like the back of your hand. So, when you showed up on their rooftop, it was no surprise that you eliminated half of their men within a matter of minutes. The outside of the building, every Blighter and Templar in the area, was dead.

You slipped through an open window, trudged up the steps to where they often held prisoners. You were ready for another fight, to kill any guards posted to keep watch over the youth, but instead all you found were bloodied and beaten Templars littering the floor.

He stood at the center of the bloody mess while fixing his gauntlet and glove. Jacob peered up at you, his lips widening into a delighted smile at the sight you. "What took you so long, love? You missed all the fun parts."

How dare he smirk at you? How dare he be happily unscathed after all the trouble you'd gone through? Your brows pinched and your lips distorted into a scowl. "Frye!" You marched forward, anger reverberating with each step. "I've searched half of London for you!"

He threw out his hands and lifted his shoulders. "And you've managed to find me." He gave a shake of his head with mock pity. "Took you a few days though. That's a bit disappointing."

You clenched your jaws and stood your ground, your fury inch away from him. "What were you thinking? You went into a Blighter owned gambling den! You walked right into there and risked your life."

Jacob had the audacity to wink at you. "I did, indeed. And look where it led me!"

You were shocked and suddenly a low growl made its way through your seething teeth. You rushed him, shoved him hard into the closest thing which was a desk. "You planned this? I worried for you! I searched for you! I thought you were dead!"

Jacob's humor softened but you were already pacing away from him. He reached out and grappled hold of your hand as well as your rage. "Didn't mean to make you worry. Can you forgive me?"

You snatched your hand from his, too bitter to do much of anything else. "No," you hissed, too nervous to speak it any other way. You could feel your throat cave and you knew that if you spoke anything else your voice would crack. You whispered harshly, "Everyone outside is already dead. I'm heading back to the train."

Jacob followed close behind as you clamoured down the set of stairs to the bottom floor. He finally caught up with you and when you stepped outside into the frigid early morning, he dared himself to take your hand again. "Hold on, please. Wait a moment."

Your body stiffened, eyes glazed over as you stared at the bleak gray of London city. "Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

Jacob's hold on your hand wavered, trembled a bit before squeezing. "I didn't know, little sparrow. I didn't think you'd care. I thought..." He gave a huffed and stepped forward, boots crunching against dirt and grit.

You stomach felt knotted and your skin laced with a chilled sweat. You felt sick from the release of adrenaline. You truly thought he had died. You shivered and hunched your shoulders up around you. "It's already forgotten."

"Cold, love?" Jacob's arms encased you, tightening until your back pressed into his chest before swaying playfully. "I can hold you for a bit and keep you warm."

You huffed, trying to remain bitter about everything but... You melted in his embrace. You clenched your eyes shut, the hot tears streaming down your frosty cheeks. "If you ever do that again..."

Jacob nuzzled his chin against the bend of your shoulder. "I won't, love. I won't."

You slipped your hand beneath his, fingers delighting to have his tangle with your own.