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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

Text

through your eyes + au 3

authors note: well. this got freaky. some smut ahead, folks. this really is starting to feel like a completely different story, low key.

part one // part two // au solana instagram

warnings: smut

taglist: @sayyestoheav3nn @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @annfg8 @trentybenty @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @zoeyybellex3

word count: 4.3k

"I need to talk to you."

Solana should have been talked to someone about this.

But, she's felt torn.

Torn on just who she can talk to about it.

And lack of options hasn't been the issue.

If anything, there's a copious amount of resources and trusted confidants she could go to. Courtesy of her large family, host of cousins, and other good friends.

It's actually easier to start with who would absolutely be the worst person to go to.

And her mom, interestingly enough, is that person. Ironic given how close she is to her madre. One of her best friends, in many ways.

But, not for this. Because Nina will go to Xavier, Solana's dad, and somehow Wes, Solana's brother, will get involved, and it'll just be a whole mess.

Beyond that, there's her cousins. Jade and Anriel will scold the living shit out of her and probably confide in their mom, Solana's aunt Sharmell, out of concern. Aunt Sharmell will go to her husband, Booker, who won't hesitate to literally fly out to Miami just to tell his brother, Xavier, Solana's dad. Thus, the whole damn family knowing.

Then there's her cousin, Roxanne. Roxanne would be great if not for her inability to hold water. And Solana definitely doesn't need her mom's side of the family knowing. They'll kidnap her and force her to live in Mexico for the rest of her life, believing she's gone mad.

Might not be too far off though.

Rhea will just kick her ass for being so 'fawkin stoopid'. Jaida will encourage it, because Jaida encourages all things questionable. But Kayden....Kayden could be the one.

She's also bound to not respond well, but still, someone Solana knows will ultimately keep this between the two of them.

Kayden Carter looks over at Solana with intrigue. With over 15 years of friendship, she knows when her roommate and best friend is truly in a dilemma, that nervous, panicked voice she typically uses present already. This is definitely one of those times.

"Okay." Kayden motions for Solana to sit down on the other end of the sofa, waiting until she does so to ask, "what's going on?"

Solana takes a deep breath, both hating and needing to share this. "You know the event I attended with my family this weekend?" Kayden nods. "I—I met someone there."

At that, Kayden lifts a pierced brow. "Oh?"

Solana looks away, explaining, "I was trying to get away from Ethan and ran into this man by accident, and he ended up helping me out. Pretending to be my date or whatever. It got Ethan to leave me alone, so that was good."

"Forget about Page's annoying ass, what about the man? Is he attractive?"

Solana scoffs. "Very." She's not quite sure how to describe just how fine Roman Reigns is. "But—"

Kayden's expression sours. "He's an asshole, isn't he?"

"Notorious." Though Solana does her best to stay tucked away in her little corner of the world within that's away from the mafia life, she's not stupid nor entirely disconnected. It's common knowledge that Roman is a dick.

And yet....

"But, he was nice to me. He's been nice to me." Kayden's expression shifts into confusion, Solana clarifying, "he—he came to my job this morning."

"Holy shit, he's serious about this." Kayden scoffs and smiles, clearly intrigued by the mystery of it all. "Wait, who is this guy, Sola?"

And now, here comes the part that Solana has been dreading since decided she would confide in Kayden. "It's....it's Roman."

Kayden blinks, not catching on. "Roman who?" And it's just one 'you know' look from Solana that has her eyes widening. "No." Solana closes her eyes. "Please tell me you're kidding." More silence provides the answer she's certain her roommate didn't and doesn't want to hear. "Roman fuckin' Reigns? Solana, have you lost your mind? Do you know who he is?"

Solana leans back into the sofa, murmuring, "of course."

"No, you must not, because this man is the devil himself. He's a monster, Solana. If you heard half the things he's done, you'd be running the opposite way. You'd be on the other side of the goddamn world to get away from him." Kayden continues to freak out, lecturing and chiding Solana for what she clearly feels is a bad call. "I just-I don't understand. Solana, you've always been so against our world. You've essentially lived in seclusion just because you don't want to be a part of it, and now you're entertaining the literal embodiment of said world?"

Solana runs her hands over her face. "It's not—it's not like that."

"Then tell me what it's like, because maybe I'm just confused, but I'm pretty sure you're telling me that you're talking to Roman Reigns?"

That's exactly what she is, but Solana is lost on just how to express that despite everything that's been said about this man, in the two interactions she's had with him, he's been nothing but kind. In his own way, of course.

"He....he hasn't been that way with me," she finds herself defending while also recognizing that it truly is a weak defense. "He's been....nice. He helped me out with Ethan. He came to see me at my job just to ask me out--"

"Wait, he already asked you out?" Kayden looks like she's about to spazz out even more. She shakes her head, taking a second to calm down. "Solana, you're my best friend, and I love you, but he's probably just trying to fuck you. You're gorgeous with a great body, and he obviously sees how innocent you are. It's just a chase."

It makes sense, and Roman more or less confirmed as such with his comment about wanting her with no clothes on. That should be enough evidence for her to find a way to ward off his advances.

But.....

There's this part of her that's absolutely intrigued by him, as he so smugly pointed out. A part of her that wouldn't mind to get to know him more. Even if it makes no damn sense to her.

"I can take care of myself." It doesn't come out as confident and assured as she would like it to be, nor is she entirely certain of her assertion herself, but it's expressed regardless. "I—I can handle this."

Kayden looks just as unsure as Solana feels. "Your family doesn't know, do they?"

"No." Her eyes widen a bit. "No one does, except you now. So please, please don't say anything to anyone." Solana needs to at least figure out just what's going on before she has to face the inevitable backlash from her family and others.

Kayden shakes her head. "You know I got you, girl. Even though I do think you're fuckin' crazy, you've always supported me in my fucked up relationships, so I'll do the same with you." Kayden suddenly gives her that teasing expression, poking her arm. "Besides, it's not like he's ugly, am I right?"

So right.

"I get so nervous around him," Solana whines, laying her head back against the sofa. "He's just so....he comes on so strong."

Kayden smirks, leaning over and playfully nudging. "He wants him some Sola, girl." She laughs as Solana covers her blushing face. "Who could blame him? You're gorgeous, babe."

It's such weird experience. Solana is still trying to heal and learn to love herself again after calling off her engagement, so a man like Roman Reigns coming into her life out of nowhere and being so intent on just....her....it's a lot to digest. Because taking away all of the things about him that make him dangerous and avoidant worthy, he's still, hands down, the most handsome man she's ever seen.

"So where are ya'll going?"

Solana bites down on her bottom lip. "He invited me to WarGames. Said he'll send a car for me."

There's obvious surprise on the face of her best friend. "First date is watching him beat the shit out of other men?" Kayden says aloud, nodding and shrugging. "It tracks." Solana rolls her eyes. "Well, what are you gonna wear?"

She shrugs, truly unsure when she remembers what he said. "Something....something red." Kayden is curious, as Solana shares a version of what Roman said. "He....he asked me to wear red."

Told. He told her to wear red, but Kayden doesn't need to know that part.

Smirking, Kayden nods, impressed almost. "Damn. He already wants you wearing Bloodline colors? First lady type shit." Solana grabs a pillow and throws it Kayden's way, her friend laughing and then gasping. "Holy shit, you have to wear that red dress I got you last year for your birthday!"

The mention of that little piece Solana swore would never see beyond the back of her closet has her eyes widening. "Kayden, no, I can't. That's way too revealing."

"That's the point, duh." Kayden tosses the pillow back and stands up off the sofa, pulling Solana up with her. She then looks over at Dulce who's been sleeping peacefully as her mama stumbles into one of the most questionable decision of her life. "Come on, Dulce. We gotta get mama ready to get dicked down."

"Kayden!"

--------

Solana is a nervous wreck.

She hasn't been this anxiety ridden since taking her NCLEX-RN, and that was a damn near traumatic experience.

This is literally just a date.

Kind of.

Cause she's never actually been on a date before where the man will be preoccupied the whole night.

But, she's also never been on a date with someone like Roman before either. It's just all around a brand new experience that has her so in her head. She's in it during the car ride and especially when she arrives at the Warehouse and is escorted to Roman's locker room.

She nearly has a heart attack when the door is opened and she expects to see him waiting, but it's postponed, God looking out for her, when she sees he's absent.

The security leave her alone without any guidance or clue as to just what she's supposed to do, so Solana takes that time to text Kayden and let her know she's arrived and that she's safe.

For now.

Not wanting to focus too much on the unknown of it all, she takes in his locker room which is much nicer than what's probably necessary. Craft table. Weights section. Sofa. Flat screen TV. A trainers table. The works, essentially.

It makes sense when she thinks about it.

Roman seems like a man who only accepts the finer things in life, if not the finest.

But, it's the section on the craft table with a bottle of wine that keeps snatching her attention.

Drinking is probably the last thing she needs to be doing, but that's exactly what she does.

She quickly grabs the bottle and and a wine glass, filling it up halfway before downing almost all of it. It's the perfect combination of sweet and bitter and hopefully helpful in taking some of this edge off.

"You sure don't disappoint, do you?"

It's a pure stroke of luck that she doesn't drop the glass in her hand at the rumble of his deep voice behind her. But, it's truly a miracle that both the glass and herself don't fall to the ground when she turns around to look at him.

Mio dios.

Roman is standing by the door, his hair down and clearly wet, water droplets sliding down his bare chest, Solana unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles and the intricate tribal tattoos that somehow add to the magnanimity and beauty of this man. He's wearing black cargo pants tucked into black boots, with the sacred, red ula fala resting around his majestic neck.

Roman Reigns in a suit is one thing.

But Roman Reigns shirtless is something entirely different.

She's almost certain the ground underneath her shakes a bit, also deeply impacted by the god among mere mortal men.

If not for Roman initiating something beyond her embarrassing gawking. she would continue to stare. For a long time. A very long time.

He walks toward her, every step bringing her closer and closer to melting into the ground. This man is a giant. In every sense of the word.

But, it's when he takes his finger under her chin, lifting her head a little and has the audacity to say, "you can do more than just look, if you want" that Solana just about spontaneous combusts on the spot.

He's maybe said a total of 8 to 10 sentences to her in the entire time they've 'known' each other, yet even in the midst of that brevity, he still gives her more of a visceral, bodily reaction than her ex ever did.

"I—" Words are a thing of the past, something she was once capable of but not anymore. The sight of God himself has a tendency to rob anyone of the right to verbalization.

Roman chuckles, his other hand moving to her hip. "You listened."

Solana is certain it's her that's trembling and not the room around her. It takes her a minute to process he's referring to her dress. "You—you said wear red, didn't you?."

"I did." He acknowledges, once again giving her a one over as he bites on his bottom lip. "Good girl."

Oh, fuck.

Solana has to get the hell out of here. The room is freaking in shambles at this point.

Or, maybe that's just her.

She's a stuttering mess trying to communicate with this man. "I—you—probably have to get r—ready."

Roman smiles, and her entire world flutters. "Do I not look ready to you?"

Hardly. This man probably doesn't even know what it's like to be unready. Never experienced that. That's a mortal thing.

"No—I just.....S—sorry."

Similar to their last two interactions, Roman brings his hand to her back and tugs her into him. Solana, once again, places one hand on his chest, not even thinking about the fact that the water from his hair continues to dampen his body.

Until water hits her palm.

Solana is on fire. In all areas. She stammers out, feeling stupid as all the outdoors for stating the obvious. "You're wet...."

His gaze flicks to the space between her legs. "I'd bet you are too."

What the hell?

How is he so.....raw?

She absolutely refuses to move an inch, refuses to cause any kind of movement with her legs that could alert her to the fact that he's probably not wrong.

Not wrong at all.

If only Roman was on the same page.

"You are, aren't you?" His eyes narrow slightly, hand gradually starting to move down from the her back to the sizable swell of her ass. "I bet that pussy dripping for me already."

Solana's eyes shut, her nails clawing against his chest. "R—roman." Her breathing is labored, heart beating a mile per fucking minute, and that only intensifies when he squeezes her ass. Her natural reaction being to arch into him, her breast pressing against his solid body. "Oh my God....."

"God can't do for you what I can, sweetheart."

Blasphemy. Filth. Pure disrespect, and yet her head drops against his chest as he slides his hand to the front of her, wiggling it between her thighs.

Solana means to stop him, means to push him away, but her body seems to have a mind of its own, because she finds herself widening her stance, giving him all the access he needs.

The go ahead.

And he takes full advantage of that, Solana gasping loudly when he moves to cup her through her underwear. Her soaked underwear. "Dripping." He taunts, and it's true. Legs no longer mushed together, she absolutely feels the wetness dripping down, soaking her panties. "I'm taking you out to dinner after the match, but I think we should just skip to dessert right now."

Eyes widening, she gasps again when Roman removes his hand and picks her up, her thighs naturally wrapping around his waist. He carries her over to the trainers table, plopping her down on the edge.

"Lay back."

Her stomach is all kinds of twists and turns. She's not stupid. Far from it. There's only one place this is headed. "I—what?"

Roman, however, looks bored, stating so plainly. "I don't make it a habit to repeat myself, Solana. Even with a pretty thing like you, so do me a favor and just lay back."

If someone told her this is how the night would kick off, she'd call them crazy as all the outdoors. There's no way in hell this man is about to do what she thinks he is.

Is he?

Voicing her thoughts, she struggles with just how to word what is an otherwise simple thing to ask. "Are you...."

His gaze is piercing. "Can I?"

What a fucking question.

Once

Once has she had someone go down on her, and it wasn't even her ex-fiance. It was a guy she dated in college for a few months. To say it was......disappointing would be an understatement.

She didn't even finish.

Back to the borderline crisis at hand, she finds herself oversharing. "My ex. He didn't—he wouldn't....."

"Well, he's a fucking idiot." Roman's cruel but accurate remark is accompanied by his big hand moving up the sides of her dress until its scrunched by her stomach. "Eating pussy is a delicacy."

Her eyes shut again. He's so nasty.

So why is it only making her wetter?

Roman's fingers lightly tugging the waistband of her underwear reminds her of the proposed question.

This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. She doesn't sleep around. Doesn't let random men go down on her, and yet, the minute Roman licks his lips, the decision is almost made for her.

"Y—yes."

That alluring, small smile is back as he moves his hand to her stomach, pushing down just enough to get her in position. "Lay down, and let me show you what it's like to be with a real man."

Sweet baby Jesus.

Solana is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, back flat against the cool table when he goes to pull down her panties, leaving her open and exposed.

She hears Roman make a sound. "Mmm. Pussy just as pretty as I imagined."

Her hands clench at her side. He's thought about this? About her? About her—

"Ahhh." Her back is almost entirely off the table the minute his thick tongue gives one full, sensation stirring lick up her cunt. "Roman...." she moans, hands planted on the table, head thrown back as his cool breath blows against her pussy.

Seconds later, his tongue is back on her, fingers spreading her lips while his tongue teases a languid circle around her clit. "Oh my....."

The sound of his deep chuckle travels from his space between her legs. "I'm gonna make a fucking mess out of you."

And before she can process that, he tugs her by her thighs, diving face first into her cunt. Solana is a mewling, writhing mess as he sucks on her pussy like its the fuel and energy he needs for the fight to come. Laps at her with a hunger and desire that nearly matches her own, because whatever her ex did to her that one time is nothing compared to what he's doing to her right now.

"Shit...." Her body is hot, her nipples hardening by the second, and Solana can't help the way her thighs squeeze against his head, her lower half coiling and twisting from pleasure she's never experienced.

"You like that, don't you?" He hums, voice haughty and knowing. "Like me eating this pretty pussy, don't you, sweetheart?"

Her answer is an obvious one, breathed out over and through heavy pants. "Shit, yes." He sucks on her clit, the slurping sound practically filling the room and egging on her moans.

He pulls away, the absence something that's so much more noticable and painful than it should be. Only for her to arch again when his finger plays around with her nectar that feels like it's spread all over her lower half at this point. "Look how wet you are. I can tell she been neglected." Roman swirls his finger in circles around her clit, thumb applying just the lightest pressure. "Can tell she been needing me."

Solana can't and won't disagree. Not that she could anyway. Logic is very much a thing of the past. The only thing on her mind is ecstasy, and he's giving her more of that than she's ever had in all sexual interactions with all of her ex's put together.

"Goddamn, you taste good." He goes back to licking and sucking on her again, groaning almost. "Would stay down here all night if I could."

Solana nearly comes right then and there.

She wouldn't be opposed.

At all.

He stays with his head between her legs for what feels like inhumanly possible, long enough for that feeling she's only ever been able to give herself starting to rise. Toes curling and stomach twisting, she manages to whine out, "Roman, I—I'm gonna—"

He kisses her clit, coaxing her, guiding her, encouraging her. "I know, baby." She can practically visualize the smirk on his face. "Now be a good girl and come in daddy's mouth."

It's disgusting how that one filthy command manages to evoke her orgasm from her, Solana nearly sitting all the way up as her release shoots through her entire body. Roman continuing to suck on her and lap up every bit of it until there's not a fucking drop left.

Solana's practically lifeless body collapses against the table. Everything below her belly button is numb. Eyes shut, pulse probably in the danger range, she has no ability to do anything other than lay there and recover.

She's never come that hard, that much, that long.

Who is this man?

Solana whimpers a bit when she feels something against her, wiping her. A towel most likely. Strong but surprisingly gentle hands help her body to lift up only for her to fall against a solid chest, her forehead against Roman's shoulder.

She clutches onto him as he kisses her temple. "That's my girl." His girl. His anything. She's whatever he says and more. That's how fucked out he has her. "I'll see you after the match, okay?"

Sure. Fine. Whatever. Her ability to agree to anything was sucked out of her by that dangerous tongue of his, so the most she can do is nod against him.

Roman chuckles and gradually pulls away, Solana gripping on the edge of the table, eyes opening just enough to see that strong, muscular back of his as he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

She isn't sure how long she sits there, dress pulled up, towel covering her bottom half. She just knows that even after sitting for what should be a long enough time, her legs are still wobbly. Even as she moves around the room to look for her underwear only to see they're nowhere to be found, leaving her with one conclusion.

Roman took them with him.

The thought shouldn't make her pussy flutter. It really shouldn't and yet, here she is.

God, what did he do to her?

Swallowing, she does her best to maintain her pride and walks out, guided by the same guard who escorted her to Roman in the first place. He takes her up to what must be VIP seating. It's the perfect view of the celled ring and cages on the side intended for the participants.

Sitting there alone and with nothing else to occupy her mind, Solana's mind starts racing. That shouldn't have happened. She should have stopped him. Should have said no.

Even if she did want it just as much as he seemingly did. Nevertheless, that shouldn't matter. He's him. She's her. They're very different people. She's supposed to have morals and standards. Women who have that don't let men who are practically strangers go down on them.

But, that's exactly what she did, and she feels terrible about it.

"You must be my brother's flavor of the night."

Solana is already nervous as all the outdoors, yet somehow the interruption of her overthinking only serves to exacerbate that anxiety.

But, when she looks over and sees the source, Solana is unsure which is worse: what's said or who said it.

Rosalia Reigns isn't as tall or built as her twin brother. Not at all. A given considering their different sexes, but she's every bit as intimidating as him, and they do share some similar features. Same set of pretty brown eyes. Those full, pink lips and that overall powerful aura.

You know just by looking at her that she's an important person.

And she is. She comes only second to her brother.

Roman

Solana swallows and adjusts her dress as Rosalia gives her a oneover, not even trying to hide her distaste. "H—hi. I'm—"

"I don't care." Rosalia interrupts, a level of venom in her voice. "You'll be an afterthought come tomorrow morning when you join the rest of his whores on the island of forgettables."

Sting.

Solana shouldn't be surprised nor hurt by such cruel words. Rosalia, much like her brother, has never been known for kindness. Regardless, that knowledge doesn't stop the tears from pooling in her eyes.

Cause the words hit way too close to home given what just happened.

Something noticed by the other woman. An equally cruel smile growing on her face. "Aww, did I hurt your feelings?" Her smile deepens as she scoffs, sitting down in her chair. "Yeah, Ro definitely dropped the ball with you. You're dumber and more naive than the other stupid bitches my brother loves to entertain."

A stupid bitch. Any other time, Solana would disagree. She may not verbalize as such, but she would inwardly reject such a thing. But, she can't. She can't because it's true.

She gave Roman exactly what he wanted. Fell into his trap. Another of many nameless, faceless, forgettable conquests.

She's no different or better than any of the other women Roman messes around with.

She's now one of them.

And she feels disgusted with herself.

Not wanting Rosalia to see her cry, or anyone else, Solana mumbles a quiet 'excuse me' and rushes past the smirking woman. She needs to get out of here. Needs to go home.

Needs to never see or speak to Roman Reigns ever again.

This was a mistake. All of it.

And it can never happen again.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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blood-orange-juice · 1 year ago

Note

I want

I want Focalors to have become pure after committing a sin

I dunno

Maybe having a hand in previous Archon's death

Not sure I get you.

Doing something "bad" for the goal/with a byproduct of "purity"? (the world is upside down as is everything in Teyvat)

Or doing something bad and cutting out a part of herself that did it? (Bioshock Infinite vibes)

#focalors #booker catch

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goldenroutledge · 19 days ago

Text

nose dive

pairing: john b. routledge x kook!fem!reader

word count: 3.0k

summary: in which john b is running from trouble and comes knocking at your door, rekindling a forgotten spark between you

warning(s): canon events, blood, being chased, slowburn ?, fluff

john b. routledge masterlist

Figure 8. Also known as uncharted territory for John Booker Routledge, whose reputation only worsened with time. Years ago, Big John’s disappearance– then surprise reappearance– seemed to set off John B’s domino effect of bad luck. Being caught up in the gun incident at the break and consequently being fired by Ward Cameron, being involved in a dispute with Barry, formerly on trial for killing the town’s sheriff in cold blood… not the cleanest track record in the eyes of the people he wanted nothing more than to get away from.

Only a few people might’ve topped that list. The mercenaries were lurking around the island like hungry crocs waiting in water, keeping a close eye on John B’s friend group and their treasure hunting pursuits. The one guy in particular, tall and built with brown hair and a dark look he couldn’t shake, had all the pogues walking on eggshells and looking over their shoulders constantly.

Right now, John B wishes he could spare a second to look over his shoulder, as he sprints down the road as fast as his feet will take him. Dirt turns into gravel before it turns into a paved road with beautiful homes on either side of them. He pants, painfully so, a deep scrape on his abdomen turning an angry red from a fence he just had to climb over. He doesn’t remember accidentally cutting himself on it, but the dampness though his shirt tells a different story.

The scenery around him begins to change the further he goes, letting him know that he’s not on the Cut anymore. Just when he wants to stop, having nowhere else to go, he recognizes the familiar knockout rose bushes near the curb of the driveway ahead. Your driveway.

Maybe it wasn’t the best scenario, but this was his only option at the moment. You two were acquainted, meeting last spring when he did some jobs for your family, preparing the pool for summer and what not. The two of you hit it off surprisingly, but John B stopped coming around as quickly as he started. It was slightly disappointing for you, but as you saw it, he probably wasn’t interested in you anyway. If anything, he flirted with you for the tips.

Though there was never an official hello or goodbye between you two. You could either slam the door in his face or not answer at all, maybe you weren’t even home. It was worth a shot in any case.

John B can’t hear footsteps chasing after him anymore, he’s pretty sure he’s lost the guy. But making the assumption that he’s safe is a luxury he can’t afford. With a fisted hand he knocks on the wooden door and rings the doorbell once for good measure.

You swore you were hearing things until the doorbell sounded, leaving you to sigh and place your bookmark between the pages that you just barely started reading. With no patience to check who was behind the door or bother to yell out “Who is it?”, you swung it open.

“John B? What are you doing here?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as your eyes land on him, leaning up against your home on an extended arm as he pants to catch his breath. To say this was the last person you expected to see on a random Tuesday afternoon would be an understatement.

“Do you mind if I come in? Please?” He answers breathlessly, golden brown eyes meeting yours with a pleading look.

“Sure, come in.” You open the door wider for him to enter, examining his disheveled appearance. Patches of dirt, grass, and even some blood stains covered his loosened button up, making you wonder what on Earth could have led him to your front doorstep. “Are you… okay?”

John B doesn’t waste time, entering your home and plopping down on the leather sofa with a sigh, running a hand over his face and then through his hair. You were close behind, sitting beside him as you held an expression and feeling of concern. “I could be better.” John B quips, monotone as ever. And by the looks of it, you believe him.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A Bandaid?” You ramble, his eyes shooting down to his injury once you mention the latter.

“Shit.” John B mumbles to himself, blood now visibly seeping through the thin material of his shirt. “I didn’t realize… I can um- would you mind if I used your bathroom to clean up?”

“No, no. Stay here.” You assure him, fingers grazing over his shoulder to keep him from standing up, afraid that if he does, you’ll have a harder time helping him if he passes out. “I’ll help you.”

You scurry to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water, twisting open the cap and handing it to him quickly. He takes several gulps like he just ran a marathon, not even bothering to put on the usual manners that are standard here on Figure 8.

“Thank you.” John B acknowledges, his voice less hoarse now that he’s rehydrated.

“Sure.” You respond with a soft smile, standing up and holding your hand out for him to take. “Come with me. We need to get that wound taken care of.”

“Alright.” John B agrees, but then again, he probably would’ve agreed to just about anything right now. His head’s spinning and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down even though his body has.

You lead him to the guest bedroom and gesture for him to sit on the rectangular ottoman at the end of the bed. “One second.” You tell him, before going to retrieve some first aid supplies from the en-suite.

John B looks around at the tastefully decorated room, feeling out of place as everything looks like it’s straight off the cover of an interior design magazine. He doesn’t remember your house being so nice, but then again most of his time working here was spent outside.

Except for when you would purposely, unbeknownst to him, fix lunch around the time he was present, offering him to come inside and eat with you. Just because it was convenient of course, you’d hate to let the food go to waste. He could never resist a good meal anyway.

Your house appeared spotless enough to eat off of any given surface, he’s seen JJ eat off dirtier things. And here he was, feeling like he just rolled around in a pigpen, while resting on a plush couch in your gorgeous home.

“Can you unbutton your shirt for me?”

“If you insist.” He chuckles, earning a look from you. Your eyes widen upon seeing his injury close up. This is the first time John B had the time to examine it, too. He cringes at the sight as it’s a lot worse than he expected. Adrenaline will do that to a person.

“My God, what did you do?”

“How much time do we have? You want the short or the long version?” John B prompts.

“I want the truth, John B. What happened to you?” Your eyes soften with sympathy as they scan his appearance.

He sighs. “Do you remember when I first mentioned my little treasure hunting gig with my friends?” You give him a nod. “Well, we’re not the only ones after it, obviously. There’s another guy and he’s really after us. Dodged so many run-ins with him that he started chasing my ass in the street. I hopped a fence, probably lost him around that point and now I’m here.”

You try your best to make sure your expression doesn’t come off as judgemental to avoid being rude, until your heart softens when he speaks up again. “I didn’t know where else to go. But I thought I’d be safe here.”

“You are safe here.” You smile. “Don’t even worry about it.”

He nods, lips pursing together. “Yeah, I’ll try not to until I have to go outside again.”

You begin dabbing at his injury with a damp washcloth, cleaning up the excess area to find the root. “Whatever you do, try not to die.”

“Trying.” John B murmurs, hissing as the cloth meets the cut on his abdomen. “Maybe it’s time to take a vacation though. We’ve risked a lot.”

You giggle at his contemplations, knowing he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of his mouth. “Just don’t get caught. First thing you should do with your treasure money is hire a full security detail.”

“Ehh, there’s no fun in that. I’d rather fight ‘em myself.”

“Of course you would, John B.” You smirk, knowing that once you sterilize his open wound, that tough guy act will vanish.

“Holy sh-!” He shouts, clasping a hand to his mouth, as he bellows in pain. “So, you weren’t even gonna warn me? Just rub salt on it, why don’t you?”

“Oh relax, smartass. It’s better not to warn you.” You shrug, continuing your process despite his uncomfortable squirming and shifting. “The pain’s over before you know it so it’s not anything worth warning you about.”

“Uhm, speak for yourself.” He retorts, exaggeration clear in his tone. “Warn me next time, maybe?”

“Why? So you can be dramatic about it in the same amount of time it could’ve been over and done with? Didn’t know you were such a baby, John B. You seemed pretty tough when you were running from your adversary 30 minutes ago.” He remains silent, figuring that you must know best. It would only take the lightest pressure from the cloth to set his cut on fire again. Talking back wasn’t worth it.

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” You mutter in victory, gathering the used products and returning them to their original place, tossing the dirty materials. “Would you like to take a shower? I’m sure we have some spare clothes you could wear while I throw yours in the wash. I’d hate for that blood to stain your shirt permanently, it looks good on you.”

He smiles softly at your subtle compliment. “Thanks. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome, you’ve helped me more than enough.”

“So you’ll just drop this off at the dry cleaners on your way home?” You implore rhetorically, asking a question you both know the answer to. “You might as well take advantage of my kindness, John B. I don’t mind, y’know. It’s actually nice to have some company.”

“Alright, if you insist. I’m glad I could keep you company.” He trails off, puzzled at how cleaning him up was your idea of good company. “You think you can get the blood stain out?”

A chuckle escapes your lips unexpectedly at his question. “I can get blood out of pretty much anything.”

“Oh.” John B realizes, a rosy color taking over his cheeks. “Right. That might come in handy again someday.”

“As long as it’s not a murder cleanup, I’m happy to help. By the way, towels and everything should be in the cabinet.” You inform him from the doorframe of the bathroom, both of you sharing quick smiles and nods before you shut the door and leave with his stained button-up tee.

John B took longer than expected in the shower, his body going numb under the feeling of the warm water. It was refreshing to have a good shower in the midst of all the chaos in his life. Protected from all of it within these shiny porcelain tiles and the comfort of your home. When he comes out, he can’t help but smile at the fresh set of clothes laid out on the bed, neatly folded in a pile.

He saunters out of the guest bedroom, retracing his steps and following the scent of food into the kitchen. It was hard to remember his way around this place.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“Yeah, I did. Nice home, by the way. I always remembered it from the few jobs I did here. Not that I’ve been inside many of the houses over here but… you know.”

“Thanks. Have my parents' careers to thank for that.” You jest. “They’re never home to enjoy any of it, though. It’s usually just me around here.”

“You’re lucky I’m not scoping out potential burglary spots.” John B cautions. “You probably shouldn’t announce that. There’s some crazy people out there. Believe me.”

“Like you?” You chide with a sarcastic look, earning an eye roll out from him. You offer him the serving spoon to dish his food after you’ve dished some for yourself. “Thanks dad, but I think I’m fine.”

“Just telling you to be safe, Y/n.” John B defends himself, his hands up in surrender. “Don’t wanna see anything bad happen to you.”

“What happened to the whole kooks vs pogues thing? With the way some of these people have treated you, I’d say you deserve to be the one orchestrating robberies.”

“Got bigger fish to fry these days.” He shrugs, picking up some of his food on his fork. “And thanks for the food. Best meal I’ve had maybe ever.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just saying, that kind of self control is amazing. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t have as much of it as you might think.” He argues. “Standing next to JJ, maybe. Standing next to Pope? Not so much.”

“And you’re humble too? No wonder the kooks hate your guts.”

“You know, you’re not so bad either. I can’t imagine what they’d do to you if they knew how generous you’ve been to me.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” You shrug. “The less I can be like them, the better.”

–

You both finish eating in a comfortable silence, the sun setting before you have the chance to double check the time.

“So, I’m assuming you’re spending the night…?”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m positive, John B. If I minded, I would’ve kicked you out hours ago.”

He stands beside you at the kitchen sink, helping you wash the dishes. It had been ages since he’d even touched a glass dish, let alone eaten off of one.

“If you insist, Y/n. How can I pass that up?”

You suppress a laugh as he nudges your side. “You can’t. You’re gonna get a good night’s sleep if I have anything to do with it. After the day you’ve had, I’m assuming you could use some sleep. You look tired.”

He cocks an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest to feign offense. “Do I, now?”

“Mhm.” You hum sleepily in response to his query.

“You look a little tired yourself, Y/n.” He observes jokingly. “But I guess that might have something to do with me. Sorry about dropping by so unexpectedly.”

“Don’t be. I like having someone around, even if you are being chased down by a treasure hunting psycho. You’re actually not that bad.”

“Uh, oh. Hallucinating already? Sounds like it’s time for bed.”

All of a sudden, he sweeps you off of your feet and carries you bridal style into the guest bedroom. You let out a shriek as soon as your heels leave the floor, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you hold on for dear life.

He gently places you on the neat duvet, gaining a sigh of relief from you. Your hand takes its sweet time to trail down his arm, your fingers grazing over his muscles. A lovesick smile pulls at your lips as you stare into John B’s eyes, receiving the same expression back while he looks into yours.

“I missed seeing you for so long, Y/n.” He admits, just barely above a whisper. “I wish I had stayed around longer. I always tried to get more jobs here so I could see you.”

“Really?”

“Of course I did. Do you think pool water chemistry needs to be checked twice a week?” He compliments with a smile that makes you feel weak, sitting down beside you. The tips of your ears warm at his words.

“Good to know.” You ponder aloud. “I totally didn’t bother my dad to keep hiring you because I liked you, either. So I hope you don’t think that.”

He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips turn up. “Ah, okay. Then I totally didn’t white lie to your parents about the pool checks because I liked you, either.”

You avoid his eyes, instead paying attention to the polish on your fingernails as you change the topic off of whatever’s going on between the two of you. “Is there anything else I can do for you, John B?”

“Kiss me and maybe I’ll feel better? I’m sure Ibuprofen works fine too, though.”

You really had to be delirious or something, as you obliged his request and kissed him. It was clear he didn’t expect it, but didn’t waste time relaxing into your touch. He places a hand to your cheek and deepens the kiss.

You both have matching drowsy smiles when you pull away. “Feel better?”

He sighs contentedly, head falling back on the pillow next to you. “I’m on my way.”

A yawn threatens to escape from you, so you take your last moments of consciousness to not let the moment pass. “If you ever need a hideout again someday, I’m your girl.”

He turns toward you, heart fluttering at your pretty face under the warm lights from the glow of the lamps on the nightstand. He couldn’t help but admire you.

“My girl.” He repeats to you in a mutter, thumb caressing your cheek. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Leaning forward just as the words left his mouth, you press your lips to his once again and kiss him with all that you could muster at the semi-late hour. Exhaustion makes for bravery you wouldn’t have otherwise. This time, John B smiles into the kiss.

“Good.” You murmur, thumb brushing over his lips once you pull away. “‘Cause I do, too.”

💌: this is meant to be a one shot so there’s no plans for another part, but i hope someone out there enjoyed. reblogs are very much appreciated :) thanks for reading!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago

Text

Live Nation/Ticketmaster is buying Congress

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me THURSDAY (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. Monopolies are intrinsically destabilizing and inevitably implode…eventually. Guessing which of the loathesome monopolies that make us all miserable will be the first domino is a hard call, but Ticketmaster is definitely high on my list.

It's not that event tickets are the most consequential aspect of our lives. The monopolies over pharma, fuel, finance, tech, and even beer are all more important to our day-to-day. But while Ticketmaster – and its many ramified tentacles, like Live Nation – may not be the most destructive monopoly in our world, but it pisses off people with giant megaphones and armies of rabid fans.

It's been a minute since Ticketmaster was last in the news, so let's recap. Ticketmaster bought out most of its ticketing rivals, then merged with Live Nation, the country's largest concert promoter, and bought out many of the country's largest music, stage and sports venues. They used this iron grip on the entire supply chain for performances and events to pile innumerable junk fees on every ticket sold, while drastically eroding the wages of the creative workers they nominally represented. They created a secret secondary market for tickets and worked with ticket-touts to help them run bots that bought every ticket within an instant of the opening of ticket sales, then ran an auction marketplace that made them gigantic fees on every re-sold ticket – fees the performers were not entitled to share in.

The Ticketmaster/Live Nation/venue octopus is nearly impossible to escape. Independent venues can't book Live Nation acts unless they use Ticketmaster for their tickets. Acts can't get into the large venues owned by Ticketmaster unless they sign up to have Live Nation book their tour. And when Ticketmaster buys a venue, it creams off the most successful acts, starving competing venues of blockbuster shows. They also illegally colluded with their vendors to jack up the price of concerts across the board:

https://pascrell.house.gov/uploadedfiles/ful.pdf

When Rebecca Giblin and I were writing Chokepoint Capitalism, our book about how tech and entertainment monopolies impoverish all kinds of creative workers, we were able to get insiders to go on record about every kind of monopoly, from the labels to Spotify, Kindle to the Big Five publishers and the Google-Meta ad-tech duopoly. The only exception was Ticketmaster/Live Nation: everyone involved in live performance – performers, bookers, club owners – was palpably terrified about speaking out on the record about the conglomerate:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

No wonder. The company has a long and notorious history of using its market power to ruin anyone who challenges it. Remember Pearl Jam?

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/pearl-jam-taking-on-ticketmaster-67440/

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. Not only is Ticketmaster a rapacious, vindictive monopolist – it's also an incompetent monopolist, whose IT systems are optimized for rent-extraction first, with ticket sales as a distant afterthought. This is bad no matter which artist it effects, but when Ticketmaster totally, utterly fucked up Taylor Swift's first post-lockdown tour, they incurred the wrath of the Swifties:

https://www.vox.com/culture/2022/11/21/23471763/taylor-swift-ticketmaster-monopoly

All of which explains why I've always given good odds that Ticketmaster would be first up against the wall come the antitrust revolution. It may not be the most destructive monopolist, but it is absurdly evil, and the people who hate it most are the most famous and beloved artists in the country.

For a while, it looked like I was right. Ticketmaster's colossal Taylor Swift fuckup prompted Senator Amy Klobuchar – a leading antitrust crusader – to hold hearings on the company's conduct, and led to the introduction of a raft of bills to rein in predatory ticketing practices. But as David Dayen writes for The American Prospect, Ticketmaster/Live Nation is spreading a fortune around on the Hill, hiring a deep bench of ex-Congressmen and ex-senior staffers (including Klobuchar's former chief of staff) and they've found a way to create the appearance of justice without having to suffer any consequences for their decades-long campaign of fraud and abuse:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-04-30-live-nation-strikes-up-band-washington/

Dayen opens his article with the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, which is always bracketed by a week's worth of lavish parties for Congress and hill staffers. One of the fanciest of these parties was thrown by Axios – and sponsored by Live Nation, with a performance by Jelly Roll (whose touring contract is owned by Live Nation). Attendees at the Axios/Live Nation event were bombarded with messages about the essential goodness of Live Nation (they were even printed on the cocktail napkins) and exhortations to support the Fans First Act, co-sponsored by Klobuchar and Sen John Cornyn (R-TX):

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/08/arts/music/fans-first-act-ticket-bill.html

Ticketmaster/Live Nation loves the Fans First Act, because – unlike other bills – it focuses primarily on the secondary market for tickets, and its main measure is a requirement for ticketing companies to disclose their junk fees upfront. Neither of these represents a major challenge to Ticketmaster/Live Nation's control over the market, which gives it the ability to slash performers' wages while jacking up prices for fans.

Fans First represents the triumph of Ticketmaster/Live Nation's media strategy, which is to blame the entire problem on bottom-feeding ticket-touts (who are mostly scum!) instead of on the single monopoly that controls the entire industry and can't stop committing financial crimes.

Axios isn't Live Nation's only partner in selling this distraction tactic. Over the past five years, the company has flushed gigantic sums of money through Washington. Its lobbying spend rose from $240k in 2018 to $1.1m in 2022, and $2.38m in 2023:

https://thehill.com/business/4431886-live-nation-doubled-lobbying-spending-to-2-4m-in-2023-amid-antitrust-threat/

The company has 37 paid lobbyists selling Congress on its behalf. 25 of them are former congressional staffers. Two are former Congressmen: Ed Whitfield (R-KY), a 21 year veteran of the House, and Mark Pryor (D-AR), a two-term senator:

https://www.bhfs.com/people/attorneys/p-s/mark-pryor

But perhaps the most galling celebrant in this lavish hymn to Citizen United is Jonathan Becker, Amy Klobuchar's former chief of staff, who jumped ship to lobby Congress on behalf of monopolists like Live Nation, who paid him $120k last year to sell their story to the Hill:

https://www.opensecrets.org/federal-lobbying/clients/lobbyists?cycle=2023&id=D000053134

Not everyone hates Fans First: it's been endorsed by the Nix the Tix coalition, largely on the strength of its regulation of secondary ticket sales. But the largest secondary seller in America by far is Live Nation itself, with a $4.5b market in reselling the tickets it sold in the first place. Fans First shifts focus from this sleazy self-dealing to competitors like Stubhub.

Fans First can be seen as an opening salvo in the long war against Ticketmaster/Live Nation. But compared to more muscular bills – like Klobuchar's stalled-out Unlock Ticketing Markets Act, it's pretty weaksauce. The Unlocking act will "prevent exclusive contracts between ticketing services and venues" – hitting Ticketmaster/Live Nation where it hurts, right in the bank-account:

https://www.klobuchar.senate.gov/public/index.cfm/2023/4/following-senate-judiciary-committee-hearing-klobuchar-blumenthal-introduce-legislation-to-increase-competition-in-live-event-ticketing-markets

It's not all gloom. Dayen reports that Ticketmaster's active lobbying in favor of Fans First has made many in Congress more skeptical of the bill, not less. And Congress isn't the only – or even the best – way to smash Ticketmaster's criminal empire. That's something the DoJ's antitrust division could power through with a lot less exposure to the legalized bribery that dominates Congress.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/30/nix-fix-the-tix/#something-must-be-done-there-we-did-something

Image: Matt Biddulph (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/mbiddulph/13904063945/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

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santaasi · 9 months ago

Text

DANCE WITH ME

pairing: jj maybank x dancer!fem!reader

summary: jj maybank loves the sea, the sandy beach of north carolina and the warm sun. new york is the exact opposite of all this. and he hates it. but she... she changes everything.

warnings: new york au, fluff, slight angst (as usual), but happy ending, miscommunication trope, a little use of y/n, some language, english is not my first language

word count: 5.9k

a/n: first of all, thank u all for supporting my first two works here. I rly couldn’t have expected so much love and support from all of u, but i appreciate it. secondly, I can't write summaries, so i think it sounds kinda shitty. thirdly, it was supposed to be a small blurb, but I was carried away and I couldn't stop. and fourthly, I listened to Slaves - Body on Fire and Katy Perry - Wide Awake while writing this oneshot, so I advise everyone to do the same.

The huge theater hall of the New York School of the Fine Arts was getting more crowded and noisier by the second. People dressed in ridiculously posh suits, as if they had come to a reception at Buckingham Palace, took their seats and from time to time looked askance at the two guys sitting in one of the front rows.

In particular, all those present, as it seemed to JJ himself, looked at him with special disapproval interest. Compared to this bunch of rich bastards who had nothing to do on Thursday night except watch their ‘creatively gifted’ children jumping around the stage in tutus, he looked like a black sheep in his dark jeans, a white T-shirt with unwashed ketchup stains and a cap on. He looked like a total looser, who had missed his shift at a godforsaken restaurant in the Bronx only to watch his best friend’s new girlfriend performance, while everyone around him was showing off their wealth and position. Showing JJ his place.

JJ Maybank had no place in this money-rotten world. And he knew it perfectly well.

And why was he sitting here then?

Just as simple as it is. Because of John Booker Routledge. JJ Maybank adored his best friend. No, not best friend. JJ Maybank adored his brother, John B., who saved him from an abusive and alcoholic father, allowing him to move into his small flat in the Bronx and gave him a chance to make a fresh start.

John B. Routledge was always there for JJ. They spent all the happy and sad moments together, supporting and helping each other. And Maybank, in gratitude for everything, was ready to do anything for John B. Absolutely anything.

That's why he was now sitting in a maroon-upholstered theater chair, waiting for the start of a ballet performance in which John B's new girlfriend, Sarah, had the main role, and felt all these rich jerks staring at him. And it annoyed him.

He was annoyed by all these vain idiots and how they always looked down on guys like John and J, who had to literally fight for their lives in this huge city, while those rich bastards were drinking prosecco on the veranda of their Soho estate.

He was annoyed by the kids of these jerks who studied at these luxurious art schools, a semester in which cost so much that JJ could live happily on this money for five years or even more.

He was annoyed by whole this situation, which literally screamed: “Look at us! We have a lot of money that we spend on stupid school performances, so that our kids would think they're talented.”

JJ Maybank was not envious. It was just that he, a man who had worked his whole life in order not to starve, did not perceive all this creative entertainments as something serious at all. He didn't go to theaters, operas, ballets and the like. For him, it was stupid shows to launder money from these rich peeps. And JJ wouldn't be sitting in this chair waiting for the play to start if it wasn't for John B. John B., who needed his support in this fashionable enemy lair.

Exhaling irritably, catching another look of disgust from some elderly lady in furs, J took off his cap and ran fingers through his blond hair, turning to John B., who was looking at the curtains and tapping his feet on the floor.

“I'm going to take a leak and smoke, okay, John?" JJ patted him on the shoulder before getting up from his seat and heading out of the hall. John just nodded without taking his eyes off the stage.

This guy was obsessed with Sarah. And it's not that JJ didn't understand what his best mate found in a pretty blonde girl, it's just... it's just that Maybank never thought that John B would be all lovey-dovey with some chick that was completely out of his league. Although Routledge always had freer views in this rich/poor hierarchy, while JJ was sure that all the kids born with a golden spoon in their mouths were stuck up bitches not worth his attention.

Of course, Sarah Cameron proved the opposite. As they would say in North Carolina, she was kook on the outside, but a true pogue in her heart. But, as Maybank believed, this was a one-in-a-million exception.

JJ was walking along a bright corridor, trying to find the exit, when he caught a barely audible melodie. The guy followed the sound, looking through the glass in the slightly ajar door leading to a bright, spacious ballroom with large panoramic windows and ballet bars. In the middle of the sunset-drenched hall stood a young girl, who sometimes came with Sarah to hang out with John and JJ, but he never paid enough attention to her.

More precisely, she was too out of reach for a guy like JJ, to pay her attention that he wanted to. She was kind, sincere, her smile could light up, it seemed, the whole world. She always laughed at his jokes, even the dumbest ones. The mere touch of her fingers on his skin made JJ burn as if he were being immersed in a flaming cauldron of hell.

She was incredibly smart, funny and breathtakingly beautiful. Just the sight of her in a small summer dress made everything in front of his eyes fade, leaving only her. She was too perfect in his eyes, like an angel descending from heaven to torment him, JJ Maybank, showing him what he could never have. Making him hate his position and his life. Making him envious of these dumb rich assholes. Because she was too good for a bad guy like JJ Maybank.

And now, looking at her fragile frame, watching the elegant swings of her hands, perfectly honed movements and the flight of her hair from each new spin, JJ's heart in the chest was treacherously squeezed with delight. His breathing, as well as time, stopped, and it seemed to the guy as if the world had stopped too, leaving only her in his field of vision. Neat facial features, flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips, gaze concentrated on the mirror, but as if looking into another dimension. She looked beautiful, flawless... No, she looked divine.

JJ didn't know how long he had been standing in the hallway looking at Sarah Cameron's friend. But as soon as the music ended, and she ran her hand over her hot face, pushing back the hair stuck to her skin. As soon as she raised a bottle of water to her lips taking a couple of sips. And as soon as her gaze fell on the guy on the other side of the door. Maybank immediately came out of his entranced state, feeling caught and ashamed.

Turning around on his heels, JJ walked swiftly to the exit, still feeling his heart beating in his chest at breakneck speed, and her gentle image rises before his eyes. A wave of the hand. Jump. Spin. And again the hand is in the air. Jump… Spin… The music is like the sound of the sea... Her eyes are like warm sand…

The cold February wind hit him in the face and without even thinking, the guy lit a cigarette, looking into the void.

He hated New York and the cold of the city. He missed North Carolina. Kildare with its warm sun and sandy beaches. The smell of the sea, the sound of waves and surfing…

Why is he even thinking about the Outer Banks now, three years after he left without even once looking back…?

JJ Maybank did not return to that room full of these loaded bastards, steeped in luxury and affectation. Instead, he lowered his head and got to their shared apartment on the outskirts of the Bronx, where the rats and the crazy granny neighbor who was always bothering him for nothing were waiting for him.

But for the first time in three years, JJ Maybank didn't care about any of this. He was still standing in that hallway. He looked through the glass at the sunlit room.

A wave of the hand. Jump. Spin.

And again. Her hand is in the air... Jump… Spin…

The music is like the sound of the sea... Her eyes are like warm sand… And her light smile, like the warm sun of Kildare…

JJ Maybank fell in love.

If someone had told him six months ago that his heart would beat a thousand beats per minute just by looking at her, or that when talking to her, he would not be able to find more than one suitable word and would only stand and watch her giggle softly at his reaction... He would have laughed in the man's face. Because JJ Maybank doesn't fall in love. He spends one night with a girl and forgets about her in the morning. He takes napkins with numbers he will never call and throws them in the nearest trash can.

JJ Maybank is not made for relationships. He does not get attached and cannot love. But for some reason, he feels differently with her.

JJ Maybank fell in love.

And if six months ago he would have been told that he would work two shifts to buy himself a white dress shirt and a pair of decent trousers just to sit in a maroon velvet armchair among rich pompous bastards and watch her dance on stage... Watch how she transforms in her dance, becoming even more beautiful... Watch her every move, every curve of her body and the soft rise of her hands just to catch the smallest changes on her flawless face…

And then, meet her in the hall with a bouquet of her favorite tulips in his hands, for which he borrowed money from John B., just to see her smile like Kildare's sun and hear her laugh that reminds him of waves crashing on the shore.

JJ Maybank fell head over heels in love with her.

And it was obvious to everyone as a clear day.

John B. saw his friend's pupils turn into two big throbbing hearts when he saw her. John B. saw how JJ, who had always been confident around the girls, turned into a small helpless puppy who could not utter a single word as soon as she appeared next to him. John B. noticed how his best friend's life changed dramatically with the arrival of her in JJ's life.

JJ Maybank's life, which previously consisted only of home, work and a couple of weekend parties, now consisted only of work and meetings with her after which he went back to work.

Sarah wasn't blind to the changes in JJ's behavior either. The first time she saw him on the steps of the NYAFA, she thought that something had happened to John B., but when she realized that Maybank was not waiting for her, but for her friend, everything immediately fell into place. JJ's frequent appearance at performances at the academy, even when John B. did not go to them, the flowers that changed every three days in their shared with Y/N house, his questions about her best friend's preferences and many other things finally made sense.

Therefore, at her birthday party, Sarah decided to be a wingman and do everything possible to connect loving hearts. After all, Cameron did not escape the reactions from Y/N, who too often began to ask questions about JJ, who began to devote more time to her appearance and blushed every time Sarah mentioned only the name of the blonde.

Now JJ was sitting at a table in the Cameron's house backyard in Soho, which was decorated with sparkling lights in honor of the birthday girl, and stirring a glass of brandy in his hand. His gaze was once again focused only on her, dancing with Sarah on an improvised dance floor to some Latin music. The skirt of her white dress was like sea foam rising and falling with her every movement, and her ringing laughter made his heart skip a beat. During the four months of his addiction to her, it became a habitual body reaction for him.

JJ chuckled as he drained the rest of the brandy before lifting his head and meeting her glittering, emerald-like eyes. Her cheeks were red and her lips stretched into a wide smile. The guy saw how her chest quickly fell and rose after active dancing. The girl tilted her head slightly, bringing a red cup with drink to her lips before sitting down next to Maybank.

“Are you enjoying the party, Jay?" the girl teased. Her velvety voice carried like an electric current through his body before Maybank turned his head in her direction.

“Rather enjoying the view,” JJ grinned, winking at her, making the poor girl blush. She giggled softly and rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him lightly on the shoulder.

“I'm serious, by the way. You look tired,” the girl murmured and a line appeared between her brows. “And lately, I- I rarely see you.”

JJ's heart skipped a beat at the thought that she was worried about him and a corners of his mouth lifted. He sat closure to her, putting his hand on the back of her chair, looking straight into her doe-eyes. The girl felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs by the very sight of that self-confident grin and the look into those deep blue eyes. J's hand softly touched her cheek as he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. The girl sucked in a loud breath and involuntarily leaned into his touch.

“You shouldn't bother that pretty little head of yours with worries about me, princess,” the guy whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“And what if I want to take care of you...” the girl said in a barely audible voice, swallowing a lump in her throat.

She could feel her heart about to burst out when JJ slightly closed the distance between them. His lips were unbearably close to hers and she felt his hot breath burning her skin, and his hand continued to gently stroke her cheek. She had never wanted to kiss someone so much in her life.

For the past four months, all she could think about was the guy who came to her every performance when even her parents weren't there. The guy who meets her every night from rehearsals and asks her about her day. The guy who gives her his hoodie when she gets cold. The guy who brings her a bouquet of her favorite tulips every three days and leaves cute notes inside that she keeps in a shoe box under the bed.

Before JJ Maybank, all her thoughts were occupied only with dancing, which she lived and breathed, rehearsals, preparations for concerts and dreams of Broadway.

Now everything that surrounded her: a fresh bouquet of tulips in the kitchen, a blue hoodie with the smell of the sea in her closet, notes in a box under her bed and even the music she danced to - reminds her of him. She thinks about JJ when she wakes up and when she fall asleep. When she's dancing, when she's choosing music for a new performance, when she's walking, when she's reading, when she's resting. She thinks about JJ Maybank, about his light soft disheveled hair, about his blue eyes in which she could drown, about the smell of the salty sea that seemed to soak into his skin, constantly.

And now that he was so close to her, when he touched her face and looked at her with such tenderness, all she wanted to do was pull him closer and kiss him. But instead she swallowed, barely breaking away from him as Sarah's voice shattered their little vacuum world. Maybank cursed softly, running his hand through his hair before looking back at the girl who had already got up from her seat, preparing to head towards Sarah.

“Will you dance with me when I'm done with her?" A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she turned around halfway, looking hopefully at the guy.

JJ was taken aback. He wanted to agree. He wanted to say that he would be happy to dance with her, but... but he couldn't dance. And he was ashamed to admit it to someone for whom dancing was hers whole life. And he didn't want their first dance to be a complete failure just because he was a fool who couldn't move his bear paws and didn't know where to put his hands and how to behave properly and…

“Mhm. I'm already leaving. I have a night shift, so… Maybe another time?” the guy said distantly and shrugged, getting up from his chair.

Meeting her gaze, which literally screamed disappointment and that his answer hurt her, J immediately regretted his words and wanted to return them, but it was too late. The girl faked a smile and nodded.

“Then... maybe... another time? See ya, Jay,” she said finally and disappeared into the crowd, trying to suppress the tears that are starting to fill her eyes.

"Yeah… next time," the guy echoed, watching her move further away from him.

JJ Maybank was head over heels in love.

And even though he wasn't a genius before, he was a complete fool now.

Three weeks later, her dreams and her heart were broken. Three weeks after Sarah's birthday, she realized that all of JJ's feelings for her were just her own delusions.

At first, they just started seeing each other less often. He no longer met her after rehearsals, as he took extra shifts at work, but still sent her flowers every three days. He messaged her every day asking how her day was and how she was feeling, told her funny stories from work on their evenings phone calls and everything seemed fine. But after two weeks, all their communication came to naught. She offered to meet a couple of times, but JJ refused, saying that he had a job and as soon as his co-worker will recover from his unexpected illness, they would definitely meet.

And she believed him. And waited.

Until one day she saw JJ Maybank with a cup of coffee in his hand, strolling down Lexington Avenue smiling at a dark-haired girl, so beautiful as if she had stepped off the cover of vogue magazine when, according to him, he was supposed to be at work.

And at that moment, her whole world seemed to collapse.

She knew that she had no rights to the guy, that he had promised her nothing. And she understood perfectly well that they were not in a relationship, and that in fact he could spend his time with anyone. But her heart beat painfully in her chest from the realization that all those sweet and meaningful moments with him were now just nothing.

All those notes, flowers, late-night calls and conversations, that almost kiss - were now nothing and it broke her heart.

But the worst thing about this situation was the realization that instead of talking, JJ just decided to ignore her and ghost her, coming up with stupid excuses not to see her.

Maybe she did something wrong? Or maybe some of her words hurt him? Or was she too clingy? A lot of questions were spinning in the girl's head, but all she could do was lock herself in her room and cry, glad that Sarah had gone to her family for a couple of days. She didn't want to discuss this topic with anyone, not even with her best friend.

From that day on, she stopped texting JJ in the morning and calling in the evenings when she returned from rehearsals. She stopped opening the door to the courier, who continued to bring her flowers from him. And she hid his hoodie, smelling of the sea, away in the closet. She cut JJ Maybank out of her life, devoting herself to dancing, shutting herself off from the world around her.

At first, JJ did not notice that the girl had pulled away from him, immersed in her business and work.

More precisely, he noticed that she no longer wrote or called him after training, but for the first three days he attributed it to her busy schedule. Maybank remembered that she had mentioned preparing for an audition for a Broadway troupe, and thought that was what she was doing. But when he hadn't heard from her for a week, he got worried.

To tell the truth, JJ has been restless all week. He was so used to her presence in his life, to her morning messages that gave him energy for the whole day, to her evening calls and laughter on the phone that made his soul feel better, that the absence of these small moments felt like emptiness. Like a black corridor with no exit.

And JJ started writing to her himself, but he didn't get a reply. Then he started calling her, but all the calls were forwarded to the voicemail. He went to the academy, but he never saw her. And eventually he met Sarah, who was also completely unaware.

“Since I came from my parents, she hasn't been herself,” Sarah admitted, biting her lip, frowning slightly. “She hardly talks to me, she's always rehearsing, and it's like she's dropped out of life. I do not know what's wrong with her, JJ.”

Because of the whole situation, JJ Maybank couldn't live fully.

He continued to write to her, call her, even wrote letters by hand, as in those romantic films that she loved so much, throwing them under her door, but he never received an answer. Not a single response in a month.

He had been living without her in his life for a whole fucking month, and if before he was sure that he was in love with her, now JJ Maybank was a thousand percent sure that he loved her to the point of insanity and physical pain.

He wanted to hear her laugh every day. He wanted to wake up and see her smile and sparkling eyes first. He wanted to listen to her endless chatter about her favorite actors, singers and dancers. He wanted to watch her dance, watch how her soul seemed to rise somewhere higher, to where he had no access. He wanted to watch her laugh, blush, cry, be sad or angry for the rest of his life.

JJ Maybank wanted to spend his whole life with her. Because she is life itself. She is the ocean, the sound of waves, wet sand and warm sun. She's Kildare. She's his home.

And JJ Maybank wasn't going to give up on that. Not today. Not now. Never.

The sun had long sunk below the horizon. It was raining like hell, and even if JJ had an umbrella, it definitely wouldn't have saved him. No one could hide from the spring rains of New York.

JJ was standing under a tree near the entrance to the Academy of Fine Arts, waiting for her.

Today, JJ will solve all their problems and confess his feelings to her. No matter the weather, no matter her mood, or even the meteor shower, he will do everything to make her listen to him. And if after that she decides that she doesn't want to see him, then he will leave her life forever. But if, for once in his life, luck would be on his side, and she reciprocates, then... then he will never let her go.

The big front door opened and Y/N walked out of the building, lifting her head up, looking at the sky. JJ froze for a second, watching as she lifted her backpack over her head and walked down the marble steps so beautiful and elegant. He hadn't seen her for almost a month and a half, and now that she was so close to him, all thoughts and intentions left his head. And just like the first time they met, he could only look at her and enjoy the view. But as soon as her foot hit the sidewalk and she headed for the bus stop, JJ came out of his hiding place calling her name.

The girl stopped halfway, slowly looking over her shoulder at the blond man approaching her. The world stopped around her in a second. She felt her knees ready to buckle, and her heart began to beat a painfully familiar accelerated rhythm. But before her feelings could fully grasp her again, the girl pulled herself together and turned away, swiftly walking away from him.

“No, wait! We need to talk!" JJ shouted through the noise of the rain, starting to run, catching her by the forearm and turning her towards him. The girl's eyes widened when his hand touched the bare skin of her forearm and her whole body felt like it was on fire.

“Let me go,” she said coldly, and JJ was a little taken aback, but did not let go of her hands, shaking his head negatively. He won't leave until he's sorted it out. He needed answers. And he needed her even more.

“I won't let you go until you tell me what's the matter with you"

The girl stared at the guy in shock, and then laughed out loud, throwing her head back, lowering the bag, as her hand was tired of holding it over her head. Raindrops immediately began to roll down her face and hair, drenching her to the skin in a second.

“Are you serious? What's the matter? You tell me what's the matter, JJ! Tired of your new doll and you decided to come back to me again, huh?”

Her eyes sparkled with the fire of anger, burning a hole in the uncomprehending JJ. She was furious and it was the first time he had seen her like this and did not understand what he had done to arouse such reaction in her. Her bag fell to the sidewalk and she came closer, lifting her head a little higher, looking straight into his eyes.

“What? Did you also play with her, made her feel needed, desired, and then dumped her? Yeah, Maybank? Did you do the same to her?”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and pushed her palms into his chest. The guy staggered, but remained standing in place, frowning, watching her eyes fill with tears. Or was it just the rain?

“Why aren't you saying anything? Answer me! Did you do the same to her as you did to me?" The girl roared in his face, pushing him in the chest once more before taking a step back, shaking her head.

She turned away for a couple of seconds, gathering her thoughts. JJ heard her sniffle and felt his heart clench with pain. He didn't understand what she was angry about, who she was talking about and what she wanted him to say. Maybank wanted to pull her closer to him and calm her down, to tell her that everything would be fine and that they could work it out, but he was too overwhelmed by everything that was happening and couldn't even move.

“You know, I believed that you really liked me. I believed that for the first time in my life, someone liked me, and not Sarah or one of my friends, but you...” she sniffled again, wiping the tears that rolled down her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I-I really believed you… Why didn't you tell me you weren't interested in me? Why didn't you say you didn't want to talk to me? Why did you make up excuses that you were working or-”

“Excuses? I was really working. I took extra shifts and I-” finally realizing the reality of the situation, JJ began to speak, but she immediately interrupted him, throwing a look full of pain and resentment.

“I saw you and that girl coming out of the coffee shop together when you said you were going to work!" She exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, running her fingers through her dump hair.

JJ rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what she meant, which girl she was talking about, until he remembered Brittany, his dance coach. He signed up for dance classes a month ago. Was it really all because of that? Was she ignoring him because she thought he was just having fun with her? No, no, she couldn't have thought that.…

“Hey, hey, no, it's all not what it seems,” the guy shook his head, taking a step forward, reaching for her hands, removing them from her face, squeezing them in his own.

His eyes scanned her face. The mascara flowed from moisture and tears, the eyes were slightly reddened, and the nose was swollen. And JJ looked at her again. Not understanding why she would even think that he would like someone like Brittany when she was all he could dream of. His hands cupped her face and with his thumbs he gently wiped away the black marks under her eyes. A soft sob escaped her lips and a fresh batch of tears rolled down her cheeks. He exhaled, pressing his forehead against hers, swallowing, breathing heavily.

“The truth is... that Brittany girl... she's my dance teacher,” JJ whispered and looked into her eyes, which were looking at him questioningly. She looked like a little lost child and he chuckled softly.

“That night, at Sarah's birthday party, when you asked me to dance…" J closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. He hoped that he would never have to admit it, and that his dancing lessons would remain a secret, but she had to know the truth so as not to consider him the jerk who played with her feelings. JJ didn't want her to think that of him. “I refused because I can't dance. And I was... I was ashamed. Dancing is your whole life and I would just embarrass myself in front of you… And you'd think I was some kind of fool...”

“But I-I would never have th-thought that,” the girl whispered softly. J opened his eyes, caught her sincere gaze and smiled. God, what a fool he was.

“That's right, but I... I was an insecure jerk, princess,” the guy admitted, grinning, tucking a wet curl behind her ear. “I'm… It all happened so fast and I... I never saw myself catching these feelings. I never asked for help or needed the healing. And I decided to take these damn dance classes for you... and I didn't want you to find out because I... because I'm a complete idiot, apparently,” the guy laughed softly, shaking his head.

JJ let go of her face and took a couple of steps back, giving her time to process everything he said. He could feel his heart beating wildly against the walls of his chest while she stood and was silent, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Listen, Princess. I know I should have told you and all that earlier, but I... God, you're driving me crazy, you know? I can't think, speak, or breathe when you're around. I'm head over heels in love with you, angel” Maybank ran his fingers through the hair, trying to collect his thoughts. “I can't stop the way that this felt. It keeps coming round and round and round and back again”

She looked at him in silence, feeling as if the heart that she had broken herself was beginning to heal from his words. And she wanted to cry how stupid she had been to believe that JJ was playing with her. While he was taking dance lessons so as not to look like a fool in front of her… She knew he didn't like dancing, but for her sake he went to classes to learn. For her sake, he stepped over himself a bunch of times, worked overtime and did everything to make her happy, and she just...

A loud sob escaped her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand, feeling tears blurring her eyes. Her legs buckled and she almost fell to the ground, but JJ quickly picked her up, hugging her to him.

“I'm sorry, Jay! I'm so so so sorry, I was such a fool! I-I-I didn't mean to! I-I-didn't know,” the girl whimpered into his chest, clinging to his soaked T-shirt. His free hand slowly stroked her wet hair while his other hand held her on her feet.

“Shhh… Everything's fine now, right? We'll figure it out and everything will be fine,” the guy whispered in her ear, kissing the top of her head. “You believe me, don't you?”

The girl raised her head looking at his calm face, on which raindrops were running, at his wet hair and soft smile, and her soul felt so warm, as if in a second she was at home in the warmth next to the fireplace with a warm mug of tea in her hands, and not standing under the cold pouring rain in the middle of the street. Her hand slowly soared into the air and removed the bangs that stuck to his forehead before nodding in agreement.

JJ's gaze swept over her soft features. First the eyes, then the pink cheeks and plump lips that he wanted to kiss so much. The guy exhaled, raising his eyes again, looking into hers.

“Will you dance with me?” He whispered hoarsely, without taking his eyes off her, holding out his hand.

She smiled, and it seemed to him that this smile could light up the whole world if the sun ever went out. She gently placed her hand in his palm, and put the other on his shoulder. JJ squeezed her hand, pulling her closer by the waist, so that he felt every cell of her body and took the first hesitant step, which she followed without even thinking.

Her gaze was focused on his eyes, blue as two oceans, in which she was drowning more and more with each new step of the dance. For the first time, she didn't think about what move she should make next, or what position to stand in to look good on stage, or about getting to the beat of the music. For the first time in a long time, she danced just for herself, as she felt and as she wanted, completely trusting in the hands of JJ Maybank. He with trepidation and tenderness whirled her around in a dance on the ever-hurrying streets of New York, which at that moment stopped their run. Leaving only her, JJ and their dance in this vast world.

“I think love you, JJ,” she whispered softly, looking into his eyes, feeling a lump rise in her throat from excitement. Maybank stopped holding her in his arms, studying her face carefully before saying hoarsely, “Say it again".

“I love you,” she said on an exhale, and as soon as these words were uttered for the second time, Maybank pulled her face closer and kissed her. Gently. No rush. Like he haven't kissed anyone else before her. Trying to feel every emotion to the fullest.

The New York's rain comes pouring down, not even thinking to stop. And JJ Maybank didn't like the New York's rain. He didn't like New York and the people who live here. He disliked theater, ballet and dancing.

But JJ Maybank loved the sea, the sun and sandy beaches. He also loved surfing and Kildare, which he had to leave three years ago. He loved his home, which was thousands of miles from New York.

Y/N Y/L loved New York with its weather and people. She lived by dancing and dreamed of performing on Broadway and had never been to North Carolina. But despite this, JJ Maybank saw her as his home: the waves of the sea in her laughter, the sandy beaches in her eyes and the warmth of the sun in her smile.

And next to her, it turned out that New York and North Carolina were not so different, and that his home would never be a thousand miles away. And from now on, It will always stay next to him, in his arms, on his lips, in his heart.

Because now JJ Maybank knew that his home had never been a place. It's always been a person. And it's her.

that’s my first such loooong oneshot here so, i’m a little nervous to post it. but i rly hope it came out good n not too boring.

I will be glad to receive any feedback. a comment, like or reblog always pleases that little writer’s heart of mine.

but, nevertheless, thankx for reading <3

– your santi ✨

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #obx fic #obx x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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w13rd0-x4v13r · 3 months ago

Text

Summing up episode 5 in one clip I edited

The episode was actually really good though. And I got the “drunk off his ass Booker” I’ve been wanting

So it was the usual, jokes and Booker being traumatized except now he’s cannonically depressed.

Once again: Beauregard, when I fucking catch you…

#legends of avantris #booker uprooted #uprooted dimwits of the dimwood #uprooted season 2 episode 5 #jokes aside go watch this episode #if you haven't already

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year ago

Note

Have the Gooners had any direct or indirect encounters with any supervillains?

Interviewer: Tell me why you want to intern at LexCorp.

Booker: LexCorp? The ad said something else.

Interviewer: LexCorp is our parent company.

Booker: I see.

[later that day]

Booker: *finds an ad for criminals wanting an intern*

Booker: Well, it's either this or LexCorp.

Booker: *applies*

———————

Riddler: Behold, my ultimate puzzle!

Riddler: *clicks a remote*

Riddler: Why isn't the screen working?

Henchman: It's the new software update. I'm calling tech support.

Henchman: *calls*

Mac, on the other end: Best Buy Geek Squad, how may I assist you?

———————

[a year ago]

Gene's coworker: Hey Gene, can you do me a favor?

Gene: I would, but I'm totally swamped with this one guy's tax returns.

Gene's coworker: Which one?

Gene: Someone named Harvey Dent. There are so many discrepancies, it's like he's living two lives.

———————

Milo: *driving*

Milo: *sees a pedestrian*

Milo: *slams the brakes and honks*

Harley: Hey, I'm walkin' here!

———————

Otto: Morning, Basil. The usual wash?

Clayface: *nods*

Otto: Sounds good. I'll get your car clay-free in half an hour.

———————

[two years ago]

Cobblepot: Bartender, another drink!

Molly: Sir, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to cut you off.

Cobblepot: Who owns this lounge? Who's paying your salary?

Molly: Fine, what'll it be?

Cobblepot: Our finest red wine, of course.

Molly: Good choice.

Molly: *slips a sedative when he's not looking*

Molly: Here you go. Have a good night.

Cobblepot: What?

Molly: Nothing.

———————

[three years ago]

Talia: For this drill, I want to focus on distance. Team A, take the turrets. Team B, you're on the ground with arrows.

Kellin: *grabs a bow*

Talia: And... fire!

Kellin: *fires an arrow*

*arrow hits an oil lamp*

*lamp falls next to Ra's*

*cape catches fire*

———————

Blaise: *googles how to make his weed plants grow faster*

Blaise: *clicks on a video*

The video: Good afternoon, gardeners and plant lovers. I'm Dr. Pamela Isley and today I'll be showing you how to...

———————

[three years ago]

Scarecrow's assistant: Sir, one of your employees wants to see you.

Scarecrow: Send him in.

Rob: Dr. Crane, I'm Rob Steeler. I'm one of the people who intercepted that shipment containing the last ingredient you need for your new fear gas.

Scarecrow: And what do you need?

Rob: Can these other guys step out of the room? It's kind of personal.

Scarecrow: *waves them out*

Rob: *points a gun at Scarecrow*

Scarecrow: Somebody's feeling fearless.

Rob: Your new formula cost me the love of my life. I can see you reaching under your desk for some fear gas and I'm telling you right now, it won't work because the thing I'm most afraid of already came true.

Scarecrow: So you seek revenge.

Rob: Tempting, but no. I want an out—from you, your organization, and your operations. I don't want you or any of your big-shot Rogue connections to come anywhere near me or my family.

Scarecrow: And if I refuse?

Rob: *shoots the wall behind Scarecrow*

Scarecrow: Very well, have it your way. Best of luck finding any semblance of success. You and I both know you will live and die a common thief.

Rob: We'll revisit that when we meet in hell.

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rea-grimm · 2 months ago

Text

Weapon Jacob

You've known Jacob and Evie almost since you were little. Your families were very close, and you belonged to the same brotherhood.

You were so close that you and Jacob started dating. You knew he was a weapon he knew you were a master. But you didn't have a weapon and he didn't have a master and moreover he wasn't looking for one.

He was best with you and didn't care if you were his master or not and somehow he didn't want to find out or rather he always had something else on his mind at the time.

Jacob was, of course, thrilled when Evie and Henry got together. Plus, they belonged together as a master and a weapon. Since that you could see something started bothering him.

What was bothering him he confided in you one evening as he lay in bed after a mission, his wounds bandaged and under the influence of powerful pain killers.

"Evie's with Henry now... it's only a matter of time before she moves away... I-I'll be left alone, without a master..." he rumbled, some of the words almost unintelligible, how much the drugs were affecting him.

You were about to reply that he definitely wouldn't stay alone, but before you could open your mouth, he was fast asleep with his head folded in your lap.

You found Jacob in his own club, where you found him at the bar. This was happening more and more often. The bartender sent for you to take him home.

Asasin had obviously had more to drink than he needed. He was still clutching the pint in his hand, and it looked like he was about to drown himself in it.

When he noticed you, his eyes lit up for a moment before the alcohol haze covered them again. This seemed even worse than usual.

Finally, you managed to peel him away from the bar, paid for his tab, and slowly dragged him back to the train.

You wanted to eat your way through the old balls, plus it was better for Jacob not to be seen like this by anyone from Templar or any other hostile club.

You could see the slow sobriety on him as you walked past the fight club. It wasn't until it was too late that you realized what a mistake it was to go that way.

At the muffled sound of the fight, Jacob instantly brightened up as if he had been given new energy and immediately started pulling you towards the door. He wanted to fight and get all the energy and stress that had been pouring out of him lately.

He immediately went to the booker to sign him up for the next match. The catch was that this club was open to masters with weapons. Jacob immediately turned on you and started pleading with his biggest puppy eyes. You had no idea how he did it, but you couldn't say no to that.

You stripped down to your pants and left your tank top on. You walked into the ring with Jacob and two other couples walked in across from you. The masters had already switched weapons and now it was just the two of you's turn. Once all the weapons were changed, the match could begin.

Asasin didn't blink and changed to a weapon, which you grasped lightly. You've never seen him as a complete weapon before. Always in a partial transformation.

To your surprise, it was a kukri. You grasped it firmly and the fight was on. To your surprise, it ends sooner than you expected with you and Jacob as the winners. With the asasin in your hand, it was as if everything slowed down and you knew when and how to intervene.

After the fight, you picked up your bounty from the bookmaker, which asasin had planned to drink it all. But since he had almost more alcohol in him than blood, you dragged him all the way to the train. He was so intoxicated with alcohol, you thought you wouldn't even get there.

In the safety of the train, you were about to throw him on the couch when he pushed you off. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head against your shoulder. You tried to say something to him, but it was no use. He was already breathing quietly and contentedly.

He was still holding you, so you just turned to the other side so you wouldn't have to smell the drunken fumes coming from him. Instead, you raised your hand and looked at your tattoo, which had changed drastically since the fight.

Before, all you knew was that it was some sort of slashing weapon, but now you could clearly make out a kukri with a damascus blade gleaming in the mark. The hilt of the weapon was dark with an eagle motif. You could clearly recognize Jacob in it.

But now you were wondering what to do next. Should you tell him or not? The worst part was that he could be quite childish, and more importantly, you had no idea if he'd even remember after his hangover. You decided you'd see in the morning what kind of mood he was in and if he'd talk about it himself.

The next morning, you woke up alone on the couch. You expected to find an asasin snoring next to you, perhaps with drool on his pillow, but to your surprise he was nowhere to be found.

You walked the entire train, but the asasin was gone. The train was empty because Evie was off with Henry and there were no Rooks in the last car to tell you where Jacob had gone.

Finally, you went back to the couch and grabbed a glass of water to soothe your parched throat. When you picked it up, you noticed a small piece of paper with a single word on it. You could tell by the handwriting that it was Jacob's.

But what was he trying to tell you? You knew it was Henry's flower shop, but what would Jacob want there while the Indian was away? Anyway, you got dressed and went to check it out.

You found another piece of paper tucked away at the shop that led you somewhere else. When you found two more pieces of paper, you realized it was a game the assassin had set up for you.

You followed these clues to the fountain where Jacob first confessed his feelings for you. You remembered that moment until now, and the memory brought a smile to your face.

Actually, now that you thought about it, almost all the places the asasin had directed you to today had some significance to the two of you and weren't just some memory.

You reached the square where the fountain was located. Even from a distance, you could see the figure of the assassin stomping from foot to foot there. You've never seen him so nervous.

When you walked over to him, he was holding a bouquet of flowers that had seen better days. Some were bruised and broken, but you didn't mind. This was the first time you'd ever gotten flowers from him, and you knew from the language of them that he'd gone to great lengths to choose.

"Y/N," he began and paused. He looked like he'd rehearsed the whole speech but forgotten. "I want you to keep me as a weapon and fight alongside me. I love you and I couldn't ask for a better master. I know it's not easy with me, but I want you to stay..." he said, holding your hand as if it were a solid point to lean on and to.

You were completely moved by his words and for a moment you were speechless. Finally you pulled him into your arms, and in that moment you forgot even the flowers you were holding.

"I love you too... And I wouldn't dream of leaving you," you admitted. Jacob got all teary-eyed at that before he put his hand behind your head and pulled you into a kiss.

Assassin's Creed Masterlist

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed x reader #weapon au #jacob frye x reader #weapon jacob #jacob frye

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