A/N: Okay so, I can’t remember who requested this. So here ya go, some Connor fluff!!!!!!! I personally didn’t like this, but I’m posting because a few friends said it’s good. Thing is, I haven’t written in a long LONG time - well, not in english -, so I fear my writing might be a bit rusty and the style might differ from the first half of the fic. Plus, I want to say that this fic is silly. Very silly. Anyways, as I said prior, our next boy might be JayJay aka Jacob. There’s a request for Altaïr and La Volpe regarding this AU; also one for the name of your soulmate written on your wrist. I might do this one with either Arno or Ezio? I’m kinda leaning more towards Arno tbh *Arno sucker*
Special thanks to @miss-t0mboy for being so lovely as to offering herself as my beta reader!
Your name: submit What is this?
You idly watched the market, mostly sailors carrying crates moving hurriedly in front of your family stand, sighing in defeat. There were people, yes; but not even near to the most busy hours. It was early, way too early to be on your feet — but your dad explained, more than once, that today was the day scheduled for mercantile ships to come back to the Boston harbor and unload whatever it was that they carried. It was a busy day, a day for trades, you kept reminding yourself…
But what you didn’t understand was the necessity your dad felt to be the first to arrive at the market. “The early bird catches the worm”, your mother had said.
Yeah, sure. But what if the bird was so early the worms weren’t even up yet?
You stifled a yawn, placing more apples on the wooden stand, hoping to catch everybody’s attention — not because your family stand was one of the three or four within working hours, but because the quality of your products had to stand out. Your mother talked in a chirpy voice, luring customers in as the morning carried on rather slowly. You smiled dreamily, eyeing the sailors curiously when they passed by.
You were anticipating. Your mark itched every time you thought about it, about the possibility of meeting your soulmate. Most of your friends had found their partners — even Catelyn, that unbearable girl with the upturned nose to everything and everyone around her. Was destiny playing with you? You had heard tales about others who hadn’t been able to find their soul mates, or missed the chance… what if you were to become one of them?
Sighing, you thought it was just foolish. There was no you way you weren’t going to notice it. Those words had long found a place in your mind, marking your heart and refused to leave, even late into the night when you couldn’t sleep; despite their… oddness.
“Sweetheart” your dad called for you, interrupting your thoughts, voice slightly out of breath “can you help me with these?” he pointed to the crates still inside the battered wooden cart.
Your dad was an easy man to smile to — so you did, sighing softly afterwards. “Right away.”
You went towards the cart, groaning in pain as your dad passed you a wooden crate filled to the brim with carrots. God, he was giving you the carrots! “I feel like you always give me the heaviest ones, father” you joked, turning around to fill the stand once more.
“You know me so well, Y/N” he said humorously at you.
You walked awkwardly towards the main street — it’d be easier to fill the stand from there —, legs wobbly and eyes unable to see much more than carrots and the top of people’s heads. You groaned under the weight of it and right before you reached the front stand a sailor passed by you, pushing your shoulder rather briskly to make way — and that was enough to make you lose balance.
Not wanting to fall down and stain your clothes because honestly, Boston’s filth was so damn hard to scrub off of anything, you let go of the crate and watched as it unceremoniously dropped to the floor.
And now this, you thought rather bitterly, kneeling and doing your best not to stain the light color of the gown, you tried to gather the spilt vegetables — your mother was too busy selling to a woman who looked like a maid. She gave you a pointed look, as if asking if you were alright and you waved a hand back at her from your position.
“I believe you dropped a few carrots” a soft voice came from behind and your head shot up “Do you need help?”
You whipped your head back, eyeing the man from toes to head and spit out the first thing that came into your head.
“Wow, you’re big.”
The man was, indeed big, but you hardly doubted that this was a polite thing to say to someone offering help. The next thing you noticed was the slightly darker tone of his skin — a native, in Boston? — and the way he folded his hands in front of his body. He had shoulder-length dark hair, the upper half of it tied back and big brown eyes — that now were wide.
His attire was nothing like you’ve ever seen before, a mixing between the usual native clothing you were able to identify by the tales of travelers and something else you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. The stranger frowned, and you noticed he had freckles, casting his eyes downwards to his wrist and then back to your face as a sheepish smile appeared in your lips.
“I— my apologies, but—“ the man stuttered as you got up in a hurry, doing your best to beat the dust off of your apron.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” you chirped, nearly knocking the native down, ignoring the looks from a few passerbies, the excitement taking over you before the decency and common sense called you donw “I do… believe you’ve said my words, sir, but… They’re awfully simple, you see, so I just want to make sure that…” God, you’ve waited for this moment for so long that you never wondered how things would go once they’ve actually said it.
“Yes, I… believed you have said mine as well, I—“ he blushed, clearly flustered at his lack of words. “Can you tell me your name?”