Jacob Frye X Male Reader. Artistic Difference.

Fighting Frye

You failed. You were sure of it. In the two hours, you completed only two. The third one with only a faint outline of a possible face. This had left you in a salty mood. You had taken to your little art stand again to cheer you up. "Here I thought you only worked at a furniture place." The familiar voice rang.

"Jacob. What are you doing here?" You sat straighter.

"What? I'm not allowed to walk the streets of my own city?"

"Craddy said you're from Crawley."

"Hey home is where the heart is, and London owns that privilege." You snorted, turning back to your sketchbook. He began to peruse your drawings.

"Your pretty good." You shrugged "What I thought you'd be happy with a compliment? What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Went to a 'job interview' but messed up? I don't know I wasn't even asked any questions they just told me to draw."

"So your shitty cause you didn't get a job even though you already have one? correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that's being unfaithful to a business Mr (L/N)"

"I've already talked to Craddy. He knows I need a bit of extra coin wherever I can get it."

"And why is that?"

"I'd rather not say."

Jacob frowned but it soon turned into a smirk. "Come by this address at 3 o'clock. I'm going to cheer you up."

"Whatever you say, Frye."

________________________________________________________________________________

Despite telling yourself that you weren't interested in whatever Frye had planned, you still went. The place was like a pub, but it had a boxing ring in the middle of it. A man in a top hat and colourful vest was narrating the fights that started. Thankfully the place had chairs and tables. The injury to your leg was progressively getting worse to the point where you had a small limp. You really needed some professional assistance, but it wasn't like you could afford it. A barmaid rolled by offering you food or drink, but by the time she got to you, the crowd had taken all her items.

"AND NOW FOR THE STILL UNBEATEN CHAMPION! THE LEADER OF THE ROOKS! THE LEGEND! JACOB! FRYE!" the crowd when wild as Jacob stepped into the ring. Leader of the rooks? The Assassins frequently worked for green-clad gang. Could this be another piece in the mystery of the vigilantes? You pushed that out of your mind for now. You would worry about it later. Jacob wasn't wearing anything other than his clothes except his pants. His fit body and tattoos were on display for everyone. His rugged looks truly hit you at that moment. He was extremely good looking. Another gentleman entered the ring. This time wearing a shirt. Thank God. Your modesty couldn't take this.

He hadn't been wrong about his ability to fight. his body moved such force you felt it when the other guy got hit. He broke through the competition like it was nothing. Eventually, you pulled out your sketchbook. Recording the movements and the frame of his body. You ended up with a full half-naked drawing. You saw him come down from the ring. All his raving fans surrounded him in congratulation. This certainly made you feel better for whatever reason. It was a good distraction. You got up to leave, seeing that he was having a good chat with some rooks.

"(Y/N)!" you turned as he ran up to you "So what did you think?"

"Well, colour me impressed. you can fight." He smiled at you before noticing you had your sketchbook clutching to your chest. He put his hand out.

"Can I see it? Don't think I didn't notice you drawing in between fights." You flipped open to the page you had drawn on, handing the book over. Jacob's eye widened as he observed his black and white picture. Flipping a page back, he looked at his portrait from earlier in the day. It was half of Jacobs's face and half of Evie's. He started rummaging through his pockets, pulling out a chunk of change.

"What?"

"I want to buy them, obviously. I don't care about the amount." He had grossly overpaid you. Never the less you pulled the page from their bindings and handed them to him. He looked them over and laughed to himself "Now I'm not that much of a narcissist-"

"Oh, you lie-"

"Let me finish. You make me look better than I already am."

You could feel your heart clench. "Thank you, Mr Frye."