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pandorxxx · 1 year

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Who’s side are you on?

For a better reading experience, listen to Too Late by Chase Atlantic.

[im clearly obsessed with chase Atlantic. Also, the song has nothing to do with the story, but that’s what I was listening to when I was editing this💀]

Neteyam(21) x omayicayan fem reader (20)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, slight daddy kink, breeding kink, oral, p in v, rough sex, cursing.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

Synopsis: Neteyam is mad about the recent incident with his brother and father. He confides in you, but you side with lo’ak. He doesn’t like that too much, and decides to teach you a lesson.

“Y/n I can’t do this shit anymore!” Your mate storms in with a look of rage. He throws his ionar (riders mask) to the ground with a loud hiss.

He paces the room with loud breaths, flexing his muscles with every inhale and exhale.

You stand slowly, walking towards him hesitantly as you have never seen him like this.

“What is the matter, Neteyam?” You ask calmly, palming his flexed bicep as he looks down at you with angry eyes.

“Lo’ak!! He almost got us killed today. I took responsibility for it as I always do, but I always end up getting punished, or scolded. I just cannot take it anymore” he yells as he starts pacing again.

He growls loudly before punching a hole into the hut wall. You jump slightly at the impact. He was scaring you. He’s been mad before, but never this mad.

He turns to look at your demeanor for a moment. Your breath hitched, lips slightly parted as you watch your mate go completely feral.

“ i-I’m sorry y/n…I don’t mean to scare you, I just get so mad at lo’ak. It’s like he does this shit on purpose. Why does he have to make everything so hard?” he says as he plops down on the cot with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth with low growls rumbling in his chest.

You are still scanning his demeanor, not knowing wether to run, stand still, or comfort him. As his mate, you chose the latter. You take a seat next to him on the cot as you place your delicate hand on his shoulder.

“I-I’m sorry this is happening to you, my love. Maybe you should just tell lo’ak how you feel about this situation. He is the younger brother, so he’s going to get into a lot of shit that you have to get him out of. That’s just how younger siblings are.” you say through shaky breaths, immediately regretting your statement.

He snaps his neck at you, anger behind his eyes. He sits up from his previous slouched position.

“Are you taking his side y/n? Please don’t tell me you’re taking his side. Don’t make me take my anger out on you.” He says through gritted teeth, poking you in your chest.

Your body heated up at his response. You push your thighs together slightly, breathing raggedy, as you tried so desperately to hide your nervousness. However, he noticed.

He stands up slowly, keeping eye contact with you. He shifts his body to the front of you as you still sit on the cot, looking up at him.

You couldn’t deny how much his anger turned you on. He looks down at you with a tilted head, and a dark glare.

“Teyam, I didn’t mean t-“ you were cut off as you tried to touch him, and he immediately slapped your hand away.

“No…you meant what you said” he leans down, slowly pushing his fist into the cot on either sides of your thighs. He is now nose to nose with you as he glared at you. Nothing but anger and lust in his eyes.

“And I meant what I said, I’m going to ruin you.” He growls before standing back up, towering over you as you sit on the cot.

“I‘ve had a very long day, and you’re going to make it better…on your knees, now.” He says as he palms his hard cock through his loincloth.

You oblige as you scramble to get on your knees in-front of him. You look up at him with a frightened gaze, but he couldn’t care less.

He looks down at you as he takes his loincloth off. His hard cock springs out causing you to jump slightly.

You just stare at it for a moment, admiring the precum oozing out of the tip. A harsh grab to your throat broke your trance.

“Don’t piss me off. You know exactly what to do.” He says through gritted teeth as you whimper under his grasp.

“now suck it…” he says as he pushes your head down onto his thick shaft.

You squeal as your nose touched his pubic bone. You push on his thighs to try and back up a little, but it was no use. He had a grip on your braids so tight, you couldn’t blink.

“No…you talk too much, so let me shut you the fuck up!” he says through gritted teeth as he starts to bob your head back and forth on his cock. He throws his head back in bliss

Tears start to well in your eyes from how deep he was. He was touching the back of your throat. You were on the verge of choking on him.

“Ohhhh fuck, look at you. Choking on my cock.” He laughs as he takes himself out of your mouth to let you catch your breath.

You let out a loud gasp, as you are finally able to breath. There is a line of spit connecting your bottom lip and his cock. Your eyes were puffy and red, as tears threatened to fall on your reddish cheeks.

“Teyam, pl-please, I c- can’t” you plead through heavy breaths.

“You think you can’t take this? Wait until I’m balls deep in that tight little pussy of yours.” he growls as he lets your head go with a slight push, causing you to fall back.

He gets down to the ground with you, now in between your legs. He rips your loincloth off with such force that it burns you.

“Teyam!!! PLEASE!” you scream.

He gets all of your clothing off easily. He leans back and admires your body before he completely destroys it.

“This will teach you not to side with anyone other than me” he says as he connects his thumb to your sensitive clit. He rubs in slow circular motions that drive you insane.

You let out a soft moan as your back arched off of the hut floor.

“Talk to me babygirl, do you want more?” He asks as he watches you squirm under his simple touch.

You start to feel your high approaching already, shaking and eyes rolling back. “Neteyam! Fuck I’m cumming! It’s too much!!!” you whine as you come undone under the boys touch.

“Already, baby?” He chuckles “Wait until I fuck you senseless. Is that what you want?” He asks, tilting his head at you as you try to catch your breath.

“Mhmm!!” You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him.

“No I need words babe…” he says as he lines up his throbbing cock with your soaking wet cunt, gently massaging your clit with the tip. The friction is enough to make you come undone for the second time. That’s just the power he had over you.

You moan at the sensation, gripping his arm.

He looks at you as he slaps his cock on your pussy to get your attention. He chuckles at how delirious you were. He just knew you would be an absolute mess on his cock.

“Y/n…tell me what you want babe!” he grabs your face lightly to get you to look at him.

“Please fuck me. I wanna feel you so bad daddy” you whine.

His eyes widen at the name. He’s never seen you so hot and bothered before. He finally pushes his hips into you slowly.

“Daddy huh? I like that.” he smirks as he shoves the rest of his cock into you. His hand now lightly wrapped around your neck as he starts to move slowly.

You were practically screaming at the sensation. You wanted him to speed up, but you also needed to adjust to his size.

“ I-I….FUCK! I- can’t!” you stutter on your words in between heavy breaths.

“you can’t what baby?” He says picking up the pace and tightening his grip on your neck causing you to bite your lip.

“You feel so fucking good! I can’t take it! Please I-“ you moan as your eyes roll back, jaw practically on the ground. You hit his arm repeatedly as an attempt to tap out, but he didn’t care.

“You gotta take it! I’m gonna fuck you until you learn how to listen, and shut the fuck up. You’re supposed to take my side. No on else’s!” He growls as his head falls back, and eyes shut tightly.

“SHIT!” You yell sharply as you cover the hand that is choking you out. Eyes completely shut, you feel that familiar knot in your stomach again.

He watches your face contort as he pants, his high approaching him quickly. From your moaning to the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock, he was about to come undone as well.

“Mmmm…fuck this.” He growls as he pulls out of you, flipping you over on all fours. He pulls your hips up to his pelvis as he pushes your head down on the ground. He admires the view for a moment before you knock him out of his trance.

“Neteyam!! I need you...please!” You plead with him as the emptiness you’re feeling starts to irritate you.

He grips your ass as he slides back into you with ease. You let out a loud moan as he starts to move.

“You feel sooo…fucking….good” you whine in between thrusts, looking back at him. His eyes glued to your ass as he slaps it hard. He lifts you up by your hair as he pounds you. Tears fill your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“I know baby, i know. I’m almost done with you, i promise.” He pushes you down to face the floor, hovering over it due to his tight grip on your hair. He was hitting your sweetspot in this angle, causing your orgasm to build up again.

He wrapped his arm around your stomach to feel his cock poking through it with each thrust. He was practically in your chest.

“Do you feel that baby? Do You feel my cock in your womb?” He whispers lowly in your ear causing you to moan louder than you already were. His words were making you melt under him, and he knew it.

“Mhmmm!! I feel you teyam!! Fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!!” You scream to let him know you were close.

“I wanna feel you cum on my cock, ok baby?” He says softly through his low grunts.

“o-ok daddy! Shittt I’m cumming!!!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you shake violently, clenching around his cock.

He thrusts in and out of you sloppily as his high slowly approaches.

“Yeahhh just like that baby, I’m about to give you the next mighty warrior. You ready?” He growls as he throws his head back.

“Mhmm I’m ready, teyam!!!” you yell, gripping his arm from behind.

That was enough to send him over the edge. He grunts loudly as he paints your walls. Thrusting in and out of you slowly, riding out his high.

You both moan at the feeling of him pulling out of you. He watch’s his cum leak out of your glistening cunt with a dark grin. He slaps your ass once more causing you to yelp.

“Have you learned you lesson?” he says with a grin, massaging your slit with his swollen tip.

“Yes neteyam. I won’t side with anyone else, i promise.” You pant, trying desperately catching your breath.

“Yeah, that’s what the fuck I thought, baby…”

This has been in my notes for a while, but I hated it ngl. I was re-reading, and decided to edit it alittle, now it’s muchhhhh better😮‍💨. This is just alil sum sum to hold y’all, because I have work soon🙄. Anywayssss love y’all, ttyl🫶🏽!!!

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

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attleboy · 4 months

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Recently learned that Jax's voice was a raggedy Andy impression and that got me thinking.... Ragitha and Jax.... siblings.....i want to see them sible....I haven't seen that interpretation anywhere.... I wanna see them be like raggedy Ann and Andy if they were slightly more grown up and more angry

Anywho sorry for the no context ask, ur just my fav adc artist and I have no friends who are into it and I needed to share the brainrot TwT

-💖

awww it's so sweet to hear i'm someone's fav <3 and don't worry about being out of the blue, i actually had this exact thought when i first learned about their inspirations, so i'm glad to have the excuse to draw!! ^-^

without further ado, here's some raggedy ann & andy inspired ragatha and jax! :D

anddd a little piece inspired by the stage musical instead of the movie because that last verse from its version of rag dolly... many thoughts about ragatha

#jax's raggedy andy design is inspired by the dream from ask-the-rag-dolly... loved the floppy ears :D #the amazing digital circus #tadc #ragatha #jax #my art #ask response #mightve taken your idea a bit too literal but hopefully this works :)

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necroromantics · 7 months

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🪓 — Teenagers. Ticci Toby

“you’re never gonna fit in much kid” / “make ‘em pay for the things that they did”

- toby rogers was an angry boy. angry at the world, at everyone. his rage was violent and loud, like his fathers was. it moved him.

- there was a biblical righteousness in his wrath, his calloused hands pridefully gripping the bloody axe as he stands tall over his pretty victim. what a mess he made. this was a typical scene for the boy, it was his desperate attempt at finding a sliver of control in his powerless life.

- one evening, he found himself mingling in a sketchy, broken down apartment with two familiar men he knew as tim wright and brian thomas, alongside some other faces he never cared to remember. it was the type of place heavy with past of brutality and crime. the type of place most normal people would be too scared to go near, fearing they would only become a victim to guys like him.

- though he was typically ignored in conversation, the rough boy forced himself into the world that constantly rejected him, intruding on any space he could. there was a loud, but subtle, desperate attempt to be something bigger than himself.

- volatility run coarse through him. for one moment he was sitting on a raggedy, stained old couch in the dank apartment living room chatting with his colleagues as they talked over beers, and the next he was storming angrily out of the building at a comment someone had made.

- he was always the runt of the group, the butt of a joke. the people around him would pick on him like predator to prey, and laughed as they watched him squirm between their teeth.

- when he left, slamming the front door behind him, the conversations and dark chatter continued on as normal. it was if he was never there, and nobody cared. there was a cruel indifference to the boys suffering, as god turns a blind eye.

- not until he returned with a metal baseball bat in his hand did they understand the extent of his rage. one look into his darkened eyes and they knew better than to try to restrain a rabid dog.

- with quick motion, he raised the bat up high and began smashing every bottle, window, tv screen and table in the room. he ignored the angry shouts for him to ‘calm the fuck down’ and to ‘put the fucking bat away’. he hit the weapon furiously at anything he could. “you think its fucking funny now?”

- sharp exhales escaped his grimacing mouth as his chest raised and fell in an attempt to catch his breath. he stood victorious amongst the destruction he had caused, shards of glass and splintered wood cluttered the dirty carpeted floor. through gritted teeth, he muttered “do not fuck with me”.

- the metal bat clattered to the ground as he let out a final frustrated sigh before taking his leave. he didn’t say another word. he had done enough.

#tombwrites #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #toby rogers

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

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#72 #5

Minho or Hyunjin? Eheh 🤭

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompt: "Are those...bite marks?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Princess!Femreader x Royal Guard!Lee Minho

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

"Fuck." Hyunjin grunts as the heavy hilt of your sword buries itself in his stomach.

He goes to his knees, dropping his own sword with a clatter, trying to catch his breath, and you circle him slowly, like a big cat waiting for the right moment to take down its fallen prey

You regard him with narrowed eyes and an air of annoyance.

"You're going easy on me. Stop it."

Hyunjin glances up at you, tracking you with his eyes, a few loose, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over his brow, and he lets out a little humorless laugh at your words, throwing his hands out in an exasperated gesture.

"I swear to god, princess, if I went any harder on you, I'd collapse."

You stop, staring at him, trying to gauge the truthfulness in his statement.

He bows his head slightly to you, but not before you catch the hint of an amused grin on his full lips.

"I hate to admit it, but you've simply become better than me, princess." He glances off to your left, the grin growing slightly more cheeky now. "Isn't that right, Minho?"

You glance over your shoulder at your personal guard, leaning against the nearby wall, his usual, blank expression on his features, as unreadable and silent as ever.

He arches a brow at Hyunjin as the former scoops up his sword and bounds to his feet once more, headed for the weapons rack and the pail of water waiting beside it.

"I'm in no position to proclaim anything."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes good naturedly, sheathing his sword as he throws you a smirk over his shoulder, swiping hair back from the glistening skin of forehead.

"God, he's absolutely no fun, is he?"

"No." You shake your head, biting back your own grin now as you toss him your sword, which he catches easily, stowing it beside his own.

"I don't get paid to be fun." Minho deadpans, his eyes astutely scanning across the training courtyard in search of god knows what, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his sheathed sword at his waist. "I get paid to protect the princess, and that's what I'm doing."

"All right, Sir Serious." Hyunjin taunts, rolling his eyes once more, just for good measure. "Whatever you say."

Minho pushes off the wall and strides toward you, light armor clanking, before he narrows his eyes and looks up to judge the position of the sun in the sky.

"We should be getting back, your highness."

You glance once more at Hyunjin, who grins at you, before turning away and starting to organize the racks of weapons.

You sigh and drop the light weight helmet you had been wearing during your spars to the ground at your feet, motioning with your head to the waiting guard and the palace seen in the distance.

"Fine. Lead the way."

As you trek silently after Minho-back through the royal gardens, down the path through the vineyard, into the main fountain courtyard-you can't help but think that your mother is going to be furious with you.

Minho tries to keep you on time to things, but you're head strong and stubborn, and chafe under the rules of being the crown princess, and judging by the dipping of the setting sun, you're late for dinner.

Not to mention, you'd snuck some old clothes from the stable boys to practice in-skirts and silks only serving to get in your way-and your mother was sure to have a conniption fit if she saw you dressed in the raggedy pants and overly large tunic you'd secured.

Minho had caught one sight of the outfit and you had seen the disapproval on his face.

"Your mother is going to be angry, you know." He remarks, not looking back at you, as if thinking about his obvious annoyance with your recreational activities has summoned it to the surface once more.

"What's new?" You huff back, stepping past him as he holds aside a low hanging shrub for you to pass, stomping your feet in their old boots just a little bit harder than necessary as you do. "She's always angry it seems."

Minho remains quiet, following you up to the servants' entrance of the ostentatious castle that leads to the kitchens, and ultimately, the back staircase that allows you to sneak in and out without catching your mother's-or the royal advisor's-watchful eyes.

Yanking open the heavy wooden door, you stomp up the staircase without so much as a backward glance in your personal guard's direction.

Let him be angry with you. Let them all be angry with you.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, and it would never matter, not when you were doomed to be held in a gilded cage for the rest of your life.

********************************************************************************

You keep your head down at dinner-only speaking when you're spoken to, though it chafes against every nature you have-and you mostly avoid your mother's ire by doing so.

Acting the dutiful princess has always put her off the war trail.

After dessert, you sneak out of the dining room as your mother takes her wealthy guests to the parlor for some after dinner brandy and betting games, probably a little political talk if you had to guess.

None of it matters to you. It doesn't have to, because eventually your mother will find you some boring old duke of a husband, and he'll rule the castle, because god forbid a woman do it on her own, and you'll be just as trapped as before.

Dashing up the stairs, skirts in your hands, gleeful and heady from getting out of entertaining without being caught, you stop on the landing and glance down into the foyer, just as Minho steps from the shadows.

You can tell he's irritated, even from here, and something about it makes you even more triumphant than before.

"You don't have to follow me." You call down to him, taking the second flight of stairs two at a time, even as he sighs and begins to descend the first.

"I do though."

"You really don't." You reply back, reaching the second landing, catching your breath.

Damn these heavy skirts and petticoats and this tightly drawn corset in which you can hardly breathe. You much prefer the tunics and trousers men are allowed to wear.

Minho reaches you as you're finding the last of your breath, and the look on his face is smooth once more, unreadable.

It's something you've never understood about him. How he manages to keep such a blank mask all the time. Doesn't he feel stifled? Doesn't he want more?

"It's my job, princess." He affirms in a serious, no argument tone, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Fine."

He follows you silently down the long corridor, but when you reach the large oaken doors of your room, you pause with a hand on the knob, glancing at him with a sort of smirk over your shoulder.

"You have to wait out here though. I'm going to change."

If Minho's caught off guard, he doesn't show it. He leans against the wall and his hand goes to the sword at his hip.

"I'm not allowed in your chambers regardless, your highness. Now is no different."

"God, you really are no fun." You complain, just to annoy him, and you push through the doors, shutting them in his face before he can say anything in response.

Deciding against calling for the help of one of your ladies maids, and risking a lecture, you slip out of the dozens of layers of gowns and petticoats yourself, but the corset cinched tightly around your waist proves a little more difficult.

No matter how much you twist and turn, you can't get ahold of the carefully placed laces to tug them loose.

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sweating slightly, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you ponder your options.

Finally, you come to the conclusion that there's no other way. It has to be done.

Waltzing to the door, you tug it open and peek your head out to see Minho right where you left him.

He slides his gaze to you with a questioning sort of look, and you clear your throat.

"I-need a little help."

He stares at you, and then his lips form a firm line. "Call for Celia."

"I can't." You explain with a huff, as if he thinks you're stupid and you feel the need to explain yourself. "She'll rat me out to mother and I'll get the lecture of a lifetime."

Minho just continues to stare, unyielding.

"Minho." You whine, stamping your foot, and he arches a brow. "You know I'm on thin fucking ice with her already."

"And you'd be on even thinner ice if she heard you using coarse language like that."

You don't give in. "Please?"

Minho sighs. "Fine."

You squeal and duck back into the room, and it's only when he steps through the door to join you, that you suddenly realize with certain clarity what you're asking of him.

You're standing in nothing but your shift and corset, and there's a man in your room, one you're not married to, and oh god-

Minho seems to realize all of this at the same time you do, and he freezes mid step as if he's been doused in cold water, and you shriek without thinking, darting behind the bed to hide behind the blanket.

"Close your eyes!" You hiss out, as you scrabble to cover yourself.

He does so, but a wash of frustration moves across his face as he snaps back, "How the hell am I supposed to unlace you if I can't see?"

"I don't know!" You blurt out, heart hammering against your chest with panic.

Minho takes a blind step in the direction of the door. "If you would just call your maid-"

"No!" You exclaim, a bit louder than intended, and Minho cracks open an eye as you slap your hand over your mouth.

"No." You repeat, quieter this time, and you straighten, steeling your nerve, glancing toward the closed door nervously. "Let's just do it quickly. I'll stay behind the blanket, and you have to promise your gaze will remain appropriate at all times-"

Minho snorts a humorless sounding chuckle, and you glare at him.

"Promise me, Minho!"

He sighs and stares upward at the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for something to give him strength.

"I promise."

"Okay, good." You say nervously, tucking the blanket more securely around you, until you're sure just the laces on the back of your corset are showing.

You waddle in Minho's direction, and if you didn't know him better, you'd think that was a flash of amusement in his eyes.

You turn toward him, baring your back and your shoulders, and hold your breath, staring straight ahead.

He doesn't touch you and you grow antsy in the silence.

"Minho!" You hiss, not daring to glance back at him. "Hurry!"

You hear him take a step forward, and then feel a brush of a finger along the bare skin of your shoulder as he reaches for the top laces.

You jolt, cheeks instantly aflame, and try to hold still as you feel him hesitantly pull the top lace through the eyelet.

You try to focus on anything but the feel of Minho's warm hands brushing your back through your thin shift as he works, quickly and quietly, and as the corset loosens and you can breathe again, your lungs tighten up for a whole different reason.

Minho is touching you.

And you don't hate it.

Minho pulls the last lace through and clears his throat, reaching around you to drop the discarded laces into your hands.

"There. All done."

He pulls his hand back, and as he does so, it brushes the bare skin of your shoulder.

You shiver, and it's not because you're cold.

Instantly, you whirl, tugging the blanket up and around you so you're completely covered now, and when you meet Minho's gaze, his mask is firmly in place, expression unreadable.

"Thank you." You manage to say, as Minho nods and backs toward the doors.

"I'll be waiting outside, your highness."

He disappears, and the doors click quietly shut behind him.

You stare down at the silk laces he had laid in your palm, and will your heart to stop thundering out of your chest.

********************************************************************************

"Do you think Lee Minho is actually cold, or do you think that's just what he wants people to see?" You ask one day, sitting in a field of wild flowers, watching the horses graze contentedly a few feet away.

Felix looks over at you in surprise, then glances in the direction of Minho, off a few hundred feet away making sure his mare drinks from a stream.

"Why are you asking?" He replies curiously, instead of giving you an answer, and you sigh, leaning back on your hands and hiking up your skirts to give your legs a little glimpse of the warm afternoon sun.

"I don't know." You shrug, considering, and lean over to pick an especially yellow daisy, twirling it between your fingers as you think. "I just think there's a side to him I don't really know."

Felix lounges back beside you, a blade of grass stuck between his lips, and stares up at the blue sky for several moments.

"I think there's a side to everyone that we don't really know."

You nod thoughtfully, and unwittingly, your gaze drifts to Minho, stroking the broad neck of his horse gently, whispering something to it in low tones that you can't catch.

"Yeah, I guess." You admit vaguely, staring off into the distance.

"Besides-" Felix leans over to nudge your side, giving you a bright grin that dimples his cheeks and scrunches his freckles. "-I wouldn't worry about him too much. I'm sure your mother has loads of eligible suitors lined up and waiting. You'll have no time to think of the mystery that is Lee Minho soon enough."

That sounds absolutely awful, but you don't say that out loud.

You simply give him a smile that you don't feel in return, playfully shove him, and stand up to ready for the ride back home.

********************************************************************************

"Minho." You call out, standing in the middle of the sparring ring, chest heaving, having bested Hyunjin once again.

Your guard glances up from his usual position on the wall.

"Spar with me." You command, motioning to the ring with the tip of your sword.

Minho stares.

"Minho." You repeat again, tone firmer and harder this time, because you know he's going to try to refuse, but you need this. Just to see. "That's an order from your princess."

You see his chest rise and fall beneath his armor with a breath, and then he pushes off the wall, accepting the training sword Hyunjin hands him wordlessly as he walks toward you.

He steps a boot over the red line of the training circle, and eyes you warily.

"Princess, I don't think-"

"Don't think." You snap back, readying your stance, adjusting your hold on the hilt, glaring at him. "And don't go easy on me."

Minho watches you, something flashing across his eyes that you can't quite read, and then he sighs and sinks down into a ready stance of his own.

Hyunjin steps up, glancing between the two of you carefully, before he drops his hands in between you to signal the start of the match.

You move without thinking, whirling around and using the heavy weight of your sword to propel you toward Minho, under his left arm and right toward his flank.

He leaps out of the way easily, and comes around your back, and you follow his every movement with narrowed eyes, trying to preemptively think of what he's going to do next.

He lunges for you suddenly, the tip of his sword headed for the juncture of your shoulder, and you drop and roll out of the way to the other side of the ring, avoiding him.

"Why are you holding back?" You ask furiously, swinging at him again, as he ducks and maneuvers out of your way.

"I'm not." He snaps right back, and with a cry, you leap at him again, aiming for his legs, hoping to take him down to the ground.

There is tension, as the two of you circle the training ring and each other like jungle cats, stalking each other's every moves, watching footwork and body language and any minute movements.

"You are." You insist, slightly out of breath, as you dodge another one of Minho's well timed attacks, barely missing nicking your arm on the edge of his training blade.

"I'm not going to hurt you, princess." Minho retorts, fire flaring in his eyes, as he scrapes past a swing of your own.

With a growl of frustration, you head for him again, and this time, he meets your blade head on, the swords creating sparks as they make contact, the two of you battling for dominance.

You're so close now that you can see the flecks of gold in Minho's dark brown eyes, the sweat shining on his upper lip, the slight wave of his hair now that it's damp.

"Fucking hurt me." You hiss back, holding against his insistent pressure, your arms beginning to ache with the strain. "It's the only thing I get to feel in this prison."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously, and he gains an inch over you, the blades sliding against one another as he pushes you a step back.

"You wanna know something, Minho?" You bite out, your muscles beginning to shake with exhaustion, your whole body tense. "Every day, I watch you. I watch you put on a mask, and go to work, and follow orders, and do it all again the next day-like some sort of cold, unfeeling, unyielding machine. Aren't you tired? Don't you get tired of just not feeling anything?"

Minho growls in his throat, and suddenly, he's heaving forward, sending your sword flying from your hands as you tumble to the ground, the wind knocked out of you as you land hard on the packed earth, flat on your back.

Before you can react, Minho is on you, sword at your throat, pinning your body down beneath his, chest heaving.

You stare up at him, shocked, and suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

He leans over you, face impossibly close to your own, and you catch a hint of his musk-something cedar and pine-before he grits out beneath his breath, "There. Happy now?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out, and he stares at you, hard, his breaths harsh, and you see something flicker across his gaze as he murmurs, "I feel things. But they're forbidden. And that's the way it has to be, princess."

He pulls the sword back from your throat and stands.

You lay there in the dirt, Hyunjin rushing to your side, as Minho tosses aside his sword and leaves without another backward glance.

********************************************************************************

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sitting on the edge of your ridiculously large bed, trying, and failing once more, to wrap your hand in the strips of linen you had stolen from the kitchen.

Glancing down at the small wound on the palm of your hand, you let yourself fall back heavily on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Fuck this." You announce, if only to yourself, and you stand determinedly, marching to the door of your room and yanking it open.

Minho glances at you from his usual post on the wall.

"I need your help." You say, with no preamble, and Minho arches a brow.

"Your highness, please say it has nothing to do with corset laces."

You pause, because that's probably the first time you've ever heard Minho make anything close to a joke, and then shake your head with a slightly rueful smile.

"It does not."

Minho inclines his head to your open door after looking down the hall to make sure you're alone. "Lead the way then."

You shut the door behind him, and return to the bed, sitting down on the edge as Minho stands like a statue in the doorway.

You heave a sigh and motion him forward with your hand. "Come over here. You can't help me from there."

He does so, albeit reluctantly, hand on the hilt of his sword, like always, and comes to stand awkwardly beside you.

You open your palm and he glances down, his expression going dark as he takes in the small, red wounds marring the flesh.

"Are those....bite marks?"

You shrug one shoulder and try not to let his sudden anger make your heart do weird things in your chest.

"Yes. I tried to befriend a stray in the village this afternoon." You remark, reaching for the discarded roll of linen. "Bastard apparently didn't like cook's egg tarts."

You hold out the linen to Minho with an expectant look, and he sighs heavily, before taking it from your outstretched hand and kneeling at your feet.

"Fine. Let me see."

You extend your hand another inch or so, suddenly unsure of what to do, and Minho glances up at you, amusement in the twitch of his lips, before he grasps your hand with his own and pulls it into his lap.

You bite back the gasp that threatens at the feel of his fingers on your won.

"Did you clean this?" Minho asks, studying the wound clinically, turning your palm all which ways to see it in the light.

"Yes." You nod, annoyance seeping into your tone. "I'm not daft."

"I didn't say you were." Minho remarks offhandedly, as, seemingly satisfied, he unrolls the linen and begins to carefully wind it around your palm.

You hiss a little as the coarse fabric scrapes the raw skin, but manage to hold still as Minho finishes the job and ties it off securely with a satisfied little nod and a hum in the back of his throat.

"There." He announces, glancing up at you, and you freeze, because, fuck, Minho is pretty, and how have you never noticed?

You stare openly, your eyes dragging down the sharp, well arched lines of his face, the slope of his nose, the full bow of his upper lip.

And with a start, you realize he's still holding your injured hand in his own.

Tugging out of his grasp, you stand, brushing off your skirts as if they're dirty, if only to direct attention away from your suddenly flaming cheeks.

You clear your throat. "Thank you. I-"

Minho stands now as well, echoing your throat clear. "Yes. If that'll be all-"

Something sinks heavy into the pit of your stomach at his obvious dismissal.

"Minho-" You start to say without really thinking where you're going, and he glances to you, expression shuttered. "I never got to apologize. For the other day."

He regards you with a cautious look, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, your highness."

"No, I mean-" You take a step forward, holding his gaze, and you feel the danger in this, the danger in him being here, in being alone, in your room. "-I didn't mean it. What I said about you being cold."

Minho studies you, his eyes dark in the flicker of the sconces. "But I am."

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Minho sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his thick hair, and you think it's the first human gesture you've ever seen out of him since you've known him.

"It's who I am. I have to be. It's part of my job, princess."

"Why?" You ask without thinking, and Minho's gaze grows pained, just for an instant, and then it's gone.

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Please." You beg, taking another step toward him, and surprise even yourself when you clutch your hand in his.

Minho instantly freezes.

"Please. I want to understand. If you could just try to help me-"

"I-" Minho starts to say, eyes flicking down to yours.

"We're the same, Minho." You whisper desperately, squeezing his cold fingers. "Trapped, locked away. Maybe if I understood, we could help each other-"

Minho stiffens, and he tugs his hand from your own, and when you look at him again, he's closed off, face unreadable once more.

He backs toward the door, a flash of anger in his eyes before it's gone.

"We are not the same, princess. We will never be the same."

He turns on his heel and exits your room without another word.

********************************************************************************

You don't know if it's the way you left things with Minho the night before, or if it's the fact that your mother is waiting in the parlor with some suitable prince suitor, but you find yourself fleeing the castle on horseback at the first possible moment.

"Princess, wait-" Felix calls out, but you pay him no heed as you pull yourself up on your mare and kick her flanks, urging her into a fast gallop, leaving the stable and the palace and your mother and Minho all behind.

You ride and ride, not caring where you're headed, and it's only when the first rain drop hits your forehead, that you pull the horse to a slower canter, weaving her in and out of the forest trees, the sound of your own heartbeat and the hoofbeats on the ground the only thing filling your head.

The rain quickly becomes a downpour, and you tug the hood of your riding cape up around your head, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to leave without checking the weather first.

It mists your face in a chilled spray, and soon, your dress is drenched, heavy and wet, the horse's mane sticking to her soaked skin beneath your clenched fingers that hold the reigns.

You reach a stream, made into something closer to a roaring river by the storm, and the mare beneath you balks when you urge her to the edge, stomping her feet and shaking her head, snorting nervously.

"C'mon-" You urge, your teeth starting to chatter, and kick her flank once more, just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky and a boom of thunder sounds over head.

The horse rears, and with a startled shriek, you're thrown violently to the muddy forest ground.

Your mare thunders off wildly, and you're left alone, crumpled on the forest floor, your body aching and your heart pounding.

You push yourself up to a sitting position, slipping slightly in the mud, and wince, hissing through your teeth as you jostle your bruised ribs and very clearly sprained ankle.

Mud covers your palms as you take stock of yourself and any injuries sustained, and when you pull your fingers away from your forehead, they're red and sticky with blood.

Glancing around, you realize with a sharp pang of fear, that you have no idea where you are.

And no one knows how to find you.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to get to your feet, the roar of the river loud in your ears, but only succeeded in rising to your knees before you slide in the mud, your skirts-heavy with water-tangle around your legs, and your weakened body collapses back down.

You glance around for a stick, or a branch, or a tree to heave yourself up with, but you're dead weight, and there's nothing in sight.

Tears gather, hot and frustrated, and you scream into the clouds overhead, raging at the storm, at your stupidity, at this asinine life and role you've been thrust into.

You duck your head against the wind and rain, and stare at your muddied, bloodied hands and skirts, the tears starting to drip from your eyes without your permission.

It makes you even angrier.

"Fuck." You growl out, swiping at your cheeks, smearing the mud around along with the tears. You let your head fall back and scream louder once more, "Fuck!"

You don't know how long you sit there, defeated, in the mud beside the river, before you hear a faint sound in the distance that makes your ears perk.

It's the sound of hooves.

Without thinking, you cup your hands around your mouth and start to cry out, hoping it's a hunter or servant stumbling upon you in their trip through the woods, "Help! Someone please help!"

No one comes, and your pleas die in your throat, along with your hope.

Foolish. Stupid. It was probably just your abandoned mare passing by in her frenzy whipped up by the storm.

And then, a large dark horse-much too large to be your own-appears at the edge of the clearing, cantering toward you, and everything inside of you instantly grows warm with relief at the sight of the rider upon its back.

Minho leaps off the horse before it comes to a full stop, his boots sinking into the mud as he slides to a stop beside you, instantly dropping to his knees next to you, ignorant to the thick mud staining his breeches.

"Minho." His name comes out on a strained whisper, and you're crying again.

You expect to see anger on his face when he looks at you, the emotion he sports the most around you-irritation maybe, at your stupidity, at not telling him where you were going, at blowing off your mother-but instead, you're caught off guard by the sheer panic in his dark eyes, the relieved, almost scared, pull of his lips.

"Are you hurt?" He asks you instantly, voice hoarse and frantic, his eyes roving down the length of your body, as if to check your condition, and his hands clutch your upper arms, holding you in place, the strength of his fingers making you wince.

"Not vitally." You reply, and Minho's eyes flick back up to your face at that, and you remember the blood probably coating your skin.

"Your head-" He starts to say, reaching up to swipe a careful thumb across the gash that must be there, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, lean into the warm comfort of his touch.

"It barely hurts." You whisper back, and it's the truth. Your ribs and ankle are warring to take the place of highest ache currently. "My ankle though-"

Minho's gaze goes down to your ankle, buried in the deep mud, as if he can see what's ailing you through the layers of skirts tangled around your legs.

He seems to consider for a moment, and then he stands, and before you can protest, he pulls you up easily so you're cradled in his arms.

"Minho-" You gasp out fearfully, your arms going around his neck tightly in impulse.

"I won't drop you." He assures you, face serious, eyes dark. His gaze roves slowly across your face, as if searching for something. "Do you trust me?"

Without a second thought, you nod.

He almost smiles, but it's strained, and fraught with concern. "Good. There's a small, stocked hunting cabin nearby that the estate's game warden uses during the summer. We'll head there until we can wait out the storm."

He glances up at the tumultuous sky with narrowed eyes, the rain pelting his face, dripping off the heavy dark waves of his hair, and another round of lightning flashes overhead.

You bury into the safety of his chest without thinking, and Minho's arms tighten slightly around you.

You think he presses a barely noticeable kiss against your wet dirty hair, but it's probably just your imagination.

"Let's go." He murmurs, and heads off into the shelter of the quickly darkening trees, you still held carefully in his arms.

********************************************************************************

It doesn't take Minho long to get a small fire going in the hearth of the tiny cabin, and then he turns to you, face half in light, half in shadow, and motions to your drenched petticoats.

"You need to take those off. You'll get sick."

"I'm fine." You start to protest, but a violent shudder goes through you before you can finish, proving his point, and he stares at you pointedly.

Still, you return the look stubbornly, and finally, Minho lets out a long sigh, standing up from the fire and heading to a dresser in the corner.

He tosses a pair of breeches and a tunic into your lap without really looking, and says firmly, "I'll wait outside," before turning and leaving without another word.

You stare down at the dry clothes in your hands, debating on resisting, just to piss Minho off, but another shiver wracks through your body, and you decide in the moment, it's better off to be warm than stubborn.

Slipping out of your heavy, wet clothing, you slide the dry clothing on quickly, warm now from the fire, and immediately feel ten times better.

Minho was right, but you'll never admit it.

"I'm finished." You call out into the silence, and you don't know if he's heard you, but a minute later, he reappears through the front door, letting a burst of wind in with him, dripping rain onto the floor.

He crouches down beside the fire, warming his hands, and gives you a once over before glancing to your pile of wet clothing on the floor, already puddling.

Seeming satisfied, he turns back to the glowing fire.

"You didn't have to go outside." You mutter sullenly beneath your breath, curling your knees to your chest and scooting as close to the fire as you can allow. "Shutting your eyes would've sufficed. I know you don't think of me like that anyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho tenses, but it's gone so quickly that you think you've imagined it.

"Think of you like what?" He questions emotionlessly, eyes never leaving the flames.

You shrug. "A woman. An interest. Someone other than your job."

"Mm." Minho muses, oddly blank for the moment at hand, not even deigning to look at you. "And who told you that? Your mother perhaps? Or maybe one of your maids?"

You feel anger curl, hot and tight, in the pit of your stomach at his indifference.

"No one had to tell me. It's always on your face." You spit back, fire lacing your tone. "You've never treated me with anything other than irritation, or boredom, or apathy in all the time we've known each other, all the time you've been saddled with me."

Minho tongues his cheek, and his fists clench in his lap, and then he turns, staring at you hard, fire reflected in his own dark gaze now.

You note with a start that he's not wearing his usual armor. You don't think you've ever just seen him in a tunic and breeches in all the time you've known him. Your mother must have thrown an absolute fit about your disappearance to have him leaving the castle without so much as a chest plate.

"It's a mask." He remarks coldly, his words tight and low. "A necessary evil of the job, but a mask nonetheless."

You hold him, stare for stare, and refuse to back down, your own anger growing hotter and brighter by the second.

"I don't see why it's necessary to treat me with such disdain-" You start to retort back, but Minho cuts you off with a harsh wave of his hand and a flash of his eyes.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing about, princess." His voice trembles with fury, and he forces a harsh breath out through his nose, as if he's willing himself to remain still and not wrap his hands around your throat. "That mask that I've worked so hard to curate? That you seem to harbor such hatred for? That mask protects us both."

He takes in another long breath, and unclenches his hands in his lap, but his gaze never leaves your face, and his expression is darkened in shadow as the flames flicker across his features.

When he speaks again, his voice is resigned, low, barely a frustrated murmur.

"If I were to allow myself to ever, ever explore the depths of my feelings for you, not only would I lose my job and most likely my head, but I would ruin you."

You stare at him, anger slowly fading, as you try to comprehend what he's telling you.

Outside, the wind rails against the small cabin and the rain thunders on the roof.

Minho sighs and glances away from you now, something sad flickering briefly across his dark eyes, no longer filled with fire.

"I will not do that to you. I would never risk it." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "But I also feel I owe it to you to be honest, and as much as I'd like to stay safely behind the mask, it's also not very conducive to vulnerability."

The fire crackles in the tense silence between the two of you, and you finally let out the breath you've been holding, confusion and exhaustion quickly replacing the anger, dampening and heavying your bones.

"I don't understand." You whisper out, because your heart is going a million miles a minute, and you're trying very hard not to focus on the soft curl of Minho's hair now that he's growing dry beside the fire.

Minho shifts slightly, and suddenly, his thigh is brushing against yours, warm and solid through the thin cotton of the pants you wear.

Everything inside of your body tightens.

"(Y/N)-" Minho says softly, gently, reaching out to take your chin in his fingers, and you resist the urge to pull away, avoiding his gaze instead.

You don't think you've ever heard him call you by your given name. Or speak so gently before.

"Don't say my name like that." You whisper out, voice hoarse, and try to ignore the way Minho's skin feels against your own, giving you butterflies.

He regards you seriously, tilting his head slightly to pin you beneath his intent gaze.

"Like what?" He questions back, just as soft, and his fingers curl against your skin, tugging your chin up to finally make you look him in the eye.

"Like you'd willingly cross oceans and tear nations apart just to keep me safe." You whisper in response, voice growing hoarse and dry in your throat, your stomach fluttering pleasantly now that is gaze is directly on you, roving your face.

He lets his hand drop slowly from your face, but his eyes never leave your own.

His mouth softens, and something goes weirdly warm in the depths of his dark eyes as he continues to stare at you.

"Don't look at me like that." You demand quietly, voice growing in confidence, as you stare him back down, your chin trembling a bit and the fight not to drop your eyes to the full curve of his lips growing harder by the second.

"Like what?" He questions again, voice rough and soft, caressing your skin as if he had reached out and touched you.

You take in a shuddering breath, and press a hand to your wildly pounding heart just beneath your sternum, as if you can will it to quiet just by your touch.

"Like you lov-" You start to say, but Minho cuts you off as his mouth covers your own.

You gasp, but it's lost in the kiss, and you're so caught off guard, your mind goes blank for a moment, but Minho is patient and cautious, and soon, you respond to him in kind, growing used to the feel of his impossibly soft mouth moving in time with your own.

You've never kissed anyone-not like this.

You weren't allowed to even be alone with a man, let alone experience anything that Minho's offering you now.

But suddenly, you find that you're starving for more.

You part your lips experimentally beneath his, and Minho responds with a low hum in his throat, his fingers tangling into your damp hair, his tongue slipping in to the gap you've created, prodding, exploring, but never pushing.

Gods, you feel like you're on fire. Is it possible to catch fire just from someone's touch?

You don't know, but you hope it never stops.

Minho pulls back from you, his lips red and slick, his eyes dark and blown, and he stares at you for a moment, as if you're the most precious, pretty thing he's ever seen, even though you're sure you look a mess.

Your hair is nothing more than a rat's nest from the rain, and you're wearing the games keeper's old clothes, skin still covered in mud from your fall earlier, but Minho regards you in this moment like you're the moon goddess hanging the stars in the sky.

Minho heaves in a laborious breath, and then another.

"Tell me to stop."

You stare back at him, studying the sharp lines of his face, the way his lips are pinker than before, flushed and rosy, the tanned, sharp lines of his collar bone and upper chest where it dips into the deep v of his shirt.

Do you want him to stop? You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"Tell me to stop." Minho repeats, slower this time, his hands finding yours where they rest in your lap. He leans down to meet your gaze. "And I will. We'll never speak of this again."

Do you want that? Do you want to go back to cold looks and apathetic glances and masks? Or do you want this? Do you want warm fires and hands on your skin and Minho?

In a bold move that surprises even yourself, you lean forward and press your lips to his.

He palms the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, almost in his lap, and your whole body tingles at the feeling.

You part just enough to catch your breath and get your words out.

"Don't stop."

Minho's eyes flash and then he's smashing his lips against yours once more, devouring you fully, and you can't help the slight mewl that escapes into his open mouth as his tongue dances with your own.

He tugs you down beside him onto the rug that lies in front of the fire, and doesn't stop kissing you.

You feel his hand slip beneath the loose material of the large tunic you wear, and you whimper as his fingers stroke your skin, along the curve of your hip, across your ribs, until he can palm your breast.

"Fuck." Minho swears as you gasp and arch up into him at the foreign contact, and you're not really sure what you're doing, but it feels right.

He puts his free hand beside your head, propping himself above you, and his gaze roams hungrily down the lines of your body, before he seems to shake himself and drag his eyes back up to your own.

"Are you sure?" He questions softly, and his hand stops its exploratory motions, and you have to bite your tongue so you don't beg him to continue.

"Yes." You nod, ignoring the breathless catch to your voice, and reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

It's so soft. You've always wondered what it felt like

"I'm sure."

Something resolute flashes across his gaze, and he leans back over to kiss you, but it's short and sweet and gentle this time, before he pulls back and moves to the pants currently bunched around your waist, his fingers settling there as he once again gives you another questioning look.

You bite your lip and nod, and he tugs the thin material down your body and tosses it aside.

You're wearing nothing now but the large tunic, and you fight the urge to squirm or try to cover up as Minho returns, staring down at you, his eyes roving your newly bared skin as if he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

"Fuck-" He repeats again, leaning over to press kisses to the now bare curvature of your hip, down across your lower belly, dangerously close to where you suddenly feel very hot in a strange, but altogether pleasant way. "-you're so beautiful."

"Minho." You whimper out, as his slides a large, warm palm up your bare thigh, and his fingers tease where his mouth just was only seconds before.

Is it supposed to feel like this? Is this why they'd been keeping it from you? Because it's so damn good?

"Easy, love." Minho murmurs against your stomach, as he inches his fingers lower and lower, until they touch the strange warmth, sending an electric jolt through your body that has you shuddering and crying out.

He flicks his gaze to yours, and something serious resides there.

"It might hurt the first time." He cautions gently, and you nod dazedly, because you don't really know, but you'd heard whisperings from the castle staff, the maids, that told as much. "I'm going to prep you, okay? But tell me if you want me to stop and I will."

You take in a deep steadying breath, and your hands clench into the fabric of the rug on either side of you. "Okay."

Minho presses another kiss to your lower stomach, and carefully slides a finger in.

You gasp, because it feels like an intrusion, and it stings, just a bit, your body tensing, muscles fighting, but Minho is there, leaning up to press tender kisses to your lips, along with low, flowing praises in your ear.

"Try to relax." He murmurs, and you force yourself to listen to him, slowly loosening every muscle in your body one by one.

Minho's dark eyes flicker with something akin to warm pride at your obedience. "Good girl, love." He eases another finger into you, and you fight the urge to tense up again. "That's it."

It's oddly intimate, Minho talking you through it, and when you finally feel like you've reached a space of comfort, and maybe even pleasure, writhing beneath him with each exploratory, careful probe of his fingers, you find yourself begging for more.

"Please, Minho-" You whine out, and it feels sinful to experience this much pleasure just at the hands of another.

And then, he disrobes, between your legs, and you feel everything inside of you tense up again at the sight of him.

You've never been with a man. Are they always that large? And hard? And intimidating?

Fear crawls up your throat, alongside a small flare of curiosity, and you find yourself reminding yourself to breathe.

Minho must sense your sudden panic, because he leans over you once more, and you try to force yourself to focus on the lines of his chest, the scars that mark the tan skin there.

"Do you trust me?" He asks suddenly, and you snap your gaze back up to his, the fear melting away at the reassuring look in his eyes, the soft lines around his mouth.

"Yes." You whisper back, nodding without even having to think, and Minho leans forward to press his lips to yours once more.

When he presses into you, you gasp, and your body goes tight once more at the bigger intrusion, and it's painful, sharp and foreign.

You start to feel the panic swell in your throat once more, gasping against Minho's lips, but then he's right there, murmuring comfort low in your ear, his hands stroking up your sides even as he pauses, just letting you be for a minute.

"You're doing so well, love." He breathes, and you force another muscle to relax, one by one, as he slips in a bit further. "So perfect for me."

You whimper as you feel him, all of him, but then most of the pain is gone, and suddenly, your entire body feels light and limp with pleasure.

"Minho-" You gasp out, body aligning with his, thoughts suddenly hazy and far away.

He grunts, low in the back of his throat, and the sound makes your legs feel like jelly. "Fucking perfect."

You shift slightly beneath him, and he groans in response, hands going down hard on either side of your head to support his weight, his muscles trembling.

"Fuck, don't-" He starts to say, his words bitten off by another low growl rumbling in his chest.

He glances up at you from beneath the dark wave of his hair, his chest heaving with breaths, lips parted.

"Don't move like that, love, unless you really want me to cross a line."

He rubs against you, and the friction has you mewling and arching up into the strong warmth of his body.

You grab his head and force his lips back down to yours.

"Cross all the lines, Minho."

********************************************************************************

You're lying beside the warmth of the fire, your head on Minho's chest, a fur throw thrown over both your naked bodies, the rain slowly dying to a light mist outside.

You don't know what time it is, you don't know if your mother has sent others out looking for the two of you, but with your hands idly combing across Minho's broad chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, your entire body achy and satiated, you find you don't really care.

"What's this one from?" You ask in a sleepy whisper, running your fingers along another of Minho's scars-this one a faded, shiny white line along the edge of his breastbone.

"You probably don't remember." He muses, as you cuddle closer to him, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You were barely five or six at the time."

"Which would make you not much older." You quip back teasingly.

"Yeah, a few years. I was probably ten?" Minho remembers, staring up at the ceiling, as he cards his fingers through your hair distractedly, remembering. "You had wandered away from your governess in the gardens. She was absolutely frantic. I found you at the edge of the woods, playing in the mud beside a stream."

You smile at the thought, because that does sound like you.

Minho chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and you turn your head to press a kiss to his bare pec as it flexes as he tightens his arms around you.

"You were buried in some pretty thick brambles, but you hadn't a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the angry, large thorns you had climbed through, surprisingly unscathed, to reach the mud patch. Offered me a mud pie, if I remember correctly."

You laugh and Minho shakes his head ruefully. "I climbed in and carried you out on my back. Sported a pretty nasty gash for a couple of days from one of the more vicious thorns."

He rubs absentmindedly at the small scar, and you cover his fingers with yours.

"Thank you." You murmur under the crackle of the fire, and Minho glances down at you.

"You don't have to thank me. It's always been my job to protect you."

You push yourself up on an elbow to stare down at him seriously. "I know. I'm not thanking you for that."

His brow arches in surprise. "Then what?"

You idly trail a finger down his cheekbone, studying the way the shifting firelight makes him look even more beautiful than before if that's possible.

"Thank you for keeping me safe. And for looking out for me. And showing me that there's more to life than just being stuck in a fancy cage."

Minho's eyes soften, and you lean over to kiss him sweetly.

He pulls you back down to his side, and you tuck yourself willingly against him, curling your body against his.

"Thank you, love, for never giving up on the person you knew I was behind the mask."

"You didn't make it easy." You tease sleepily, nuzzling against him.

Minho chuckles softly. "I know."

You close your eyes, the exhaustion making your body heavy, your mind blissfully quiet.

Tomorrow, you'll have to return and face your mother, and your gilded cage, and whatever else will be waiting for you back at the palace.

But tonight, you're content to enjoy all of this.

And tomorrow, no matter what, you'll face everything with Minho by your side.

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ap0stle · 1 year

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girl i listen to problematic bands you aint even heard of

#the o having less than 500 spotify listeners lmfao #holy shit raggedy angry has less than 500 too

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fortheb0ys · 1 month

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Sorry for the screenshots, I posted it without finishing what I was saying :)

THANK YOU, POOKIE🙏 YOU GUYS FEEDBACK ALWAYS MAKES ME THE HAPPIEST😭 I JUST LOVE HOW YOU EXPLAIN MY WRITING :)

I think older men with braces is so underrated. I think people tend to think braces is something we get when we're young but people don't realize how often older people get them. Hell, I've seen a burly mid 40 construction guy have them. AHHH HE LOOKED SO PRETTY😢

I have such a huge oral fixation that I just love love love them I can't even explain :3

AAAAHHHHH PUPPY PLAY JEFF🙏🙏 THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME AN IDEA!!

Tiny lil drabble below :3

I'm just I'm imaging dog sitting for Shauna while she's at "book club".

Jeff's a but weary of you at first cause he's a loyal doggie to Shauna.

Of course, you'd be friendly and tried to win him over. You'd bring treats, toys, and take him for walks down trails Shauna said he liked. He'd just take the treat to his puppy crate and munch on it quietly or play with his new toy alone in the backyard as you sat on his porch, watching hoping he'd want to play fetch. You'd always treat him kindly, calling him a 'good boy' whenever he'd do the smallest things.

But nothing worked. Most days he'd sit and whine at the door, waiting for Shauna to return home. You'd never try to push him, knowing he was only really ever comfortable around Shauna.

You'd push you luck and try to give him pats but he'd shy away from you touch and give you warning nips at your hand. Jeff had a biting problem that Shauna was training him on and knew it would get him in trouble if he bit you hard.

Unfortunately was going to be a situation that he'd find himself in.

Jeff had a plush bunny named Bunbun that Shauna had gifted him for one of his birthdays. It had became his most precious item. He'd never leave it out of his sight, taking it everywhere he went.

It'd seen better days and was a bit raggedy. Though in Jeff's eyes that what made it special. All his happy memories told their story in each hole and stain.

One day while Jeff laid down for a nap, you thought it a kind gesture to surprise him with his Bunbun all fresh and fixed up. You sneakily take his plush without waking him and patch and wash it up.

You wake him up for dinner and show his plush fixed up Bunbun. To your surprise, Jeff does not take it well. You ruined him. All those special memories washed away. It wasn't the Bunbun Jeff knew nor liked.

Jeff was seeing red. With teeth beared and a growl sounding deep from his chest, he lunged at his biting deep into your hand. You quickly throw him off, now just as angry as him. Blood oozes from your hand as you cradle it to your chest.

You yelled at him calling him a 'bad dog', taking him by the collar to drag him to his crate and locking him inside till Shauna came home.

Now alone to reflect on his actions, Jeff felt the guilt weight on him. You were just trying to be kind. Tears welled in his eyes as he whined out.

It felt like an eternity before Shauna had come home.

Jeff could hear you explain what happened and her apologizing profusely than the door closing as you leave. When she comes in the room, a look of disappointment paints her face.

"Jeff, what the fuck? Why would you do that? He's just trying to be fucking nice and you bite him! You're such a bad dog."

Before Jeff could argue his case, Shauna stormed out turning off the lights leaving Jeff locked in his crate alone in the dark.

All night Jeff cries. Why was it just earlier he was a good boy but now he's just a bad dog? He just was upset about his bunny and he's working on his biting problem.

He fails into a restless sleep, only to be awaken by the front door slamming shut. The early morning sun is telling him that Shauna has left without giving him a goodbye kiss. She must still be mad at him.

Before he could sulk farther, Jeff hears footsteps. He perks up thinking Shauna hadn't left but he sees you walk into the living room. Jeff grins, happy to you back. You must have forgiven him but the empty look behind your eyes tells Jeff something different.

You walk over to his crate, unlocking it. Without saying a word you sit on the couch, turning on the television to fill the silent room.

Jeff shyly walks over to sit next to you. He takes his place, a gap taking up the space in between you.

"H-hello, Y/N." Jeff nervously tries to apologize but he's not sure how.

"Jeff, I'm only here cause Shauna paid me in advance. I'll be gone at the end of the week." You said coldly before Jeff could even apologize.

Jeff countenance falls. You used no nicknames. No sweet tones. You hate him. Shauna hates him. He really was a bad boy. Tears once again fill his eyes and this time he couldn't quietly cry. He sobbed out apologize, pleading that he was a good boy.

His begging broke you. It was clear Jeff was genuinely remorseful.

"Jeff? Puppy? It's okay. I forgive you." You comfort him while pulling him in, holding him close to your chest.

Once he calmed down, Jeff apologized properly, explaining his motives and with his explanation you agree to start over again.

Jeff was still a bit weary mostly but soon you found yourself caring for him most of the week. Shauna spent more and more time at her book club.

Of course Jeff didn't take it well. Spent his time whining for her return. You kept him preoccupied with toys, walks and playtime. His separate anxiety was a bitch but you seemed to fill her place just a bit.

Unlike the first, your kindness didn't go unappreciated. Jeff and you grew closer. He was much more hyper, was attached at your hip and wanted psychical and emotional affect. Even when Shauna came home, Jeff was upset to see you leave.

Shortly after you found things had became more sexual. You were bathing Jeff after he gotten himself dirty while playing in the mud.

Jeff was enjoying his bubble bath, you both giggling and splashing each other one minute than the next Jeff finds himself pulling you into a bruising kiss.

You pushed him off, asking what Shauna would think. Jeff admits to you that there's no book club, that Shauna's cheating, that's he's just a mutt to her.

God, you knew you shouldn't have went farther but everything felt so right with him. If he wasn't Shauna's puppy than he'd be yours.

From that moment on, you and him began your relationship.

He'd greet you at the door, completely naked with only his ears on and a tail plug snug in his asshole.

His tail plug wagging as he bounces up and down excited to see you. You'd be fucking him on the couch within a minute. His beg panting filled the room.

You'd have sex so often that Jeff rarely ever wore clothes while around you. The moment Shauna left so did his clothes. He'd dress when you left but the fabric on his skin felt so foreign.

His energy sure came in handy as well. Different positions, different places in the house, he could fuck for hours. His sexual urges were unsatisfied. At times you'd arrive to watch him and he'd be in his puppy crate masturbating. The mess in his crate signaling he'd had already came a few times already.

He'd look at you with big puppy eyes, begging to have your cock in his mouth while he pushes his plug in and out of his hole.

By the time you put your cock in him, he's cum more times than he could count. The blonde fur on his tail now a dark brown, completely soaking wet. His cock's sensitive that he whimpers as you stroke him.

He loves belly rubs especially after sex. His tummy slightly bulging from how times you've cummed in him. His belly looked like it was a full litter of your pups.

He was always a loud pup. From barking at anything and everything or crying for attention. During sex he was no different. He'd whine and whimper. You bought him a bone gag to keep the noise down.

Remember his biting problem he'd be working on?

At times you'd leave the house covered in bite marks. When Jeff was completely lost in the pleasure, he'd bite unknowingly. When he'd realized what he had done, he'd lick your wounds clean.

Jeff would wear a plug constantly. He loved the feeling of being full. Whether it was the plump head of your cock, plug or toy, he craved the feeling.

Praise was always a big thing to Jeff. He needed to be reassured that he was a good boy due to the rocky start of your relationship. Whenever he felt like he had be bad, he'd cry and beg for you not to throw him away. You'd pull him into a tight hug and cradle him till he calmed down. Once he did, he was back to his hyper and horny self.

#thank you 🥭#whole thing was inspired by you #jeff sadecki x male reader #jeff sadecki x reader #jeff sadecki #x male reader #x reader #yellowjackets x male reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #sub character #top male reader #dom reader #dom male reader #☆*cj's inbox 📥#☆*🥭

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thatfreshi · 7 months

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Rage To The Point of Hysteria (Astarion x Reader)

Third part in this little series (I Want To Mean It and Take This and Leave are both before this.)

Recommended Song: Forgiveless - SZA Ft. Ol' Dirty Bastard

"Well thank the gods you're not upset, because I have a feeling Gale wouldn't try to reverse it at this point."

Astarion's ear perk up at your comment.

"What do you mean darling? I'm sure he'd try if you asked him."

You hesitate to speak again, knowing your fiance will be pissed as soon as he hears about what happened in Gale's tower. Rightfully so, of course, but Astarion is not the type of man you want to make angry, especially when it comes to his lover.

"We aren't exactly... speaking?"

His eyes narrow.

"Is he being a dramatic sad boy again? Because first of all that's my thing, and second of all he has a wedding to be in tomorrow."

"I have a feeling you won't want him there anymore."

"Why not? He's our best friend! Gale has stood by us loyally as long as we've been in love."

You pause, he knows you're not telling him the whole story, but he doesn't push it, knowing you're nervous.

"You do love me... right?"

Suddenly a sadness casts across his eyes, wondering why you would even ask such a question.

"Of course I do my sweet. I asked you to marry me, didn't I?"

You sit back down on the bed, beckoning him to come sit with you.

"Well, Gale said some really horrible things. Horrible things about me, about you, about this whole relationship."

You tear up a little.

"You know he speaks without much thought darling. Not the brightest among us."

"No, Astarion, he was really awful. He said that I was a naive idiot for thinking you were in love with me, and how you've just been using me to keep yourself safe all this time, and that this marriage is just an extra layer of protection for you."

Rage. You still think to this day that somehow his eyes get redder when he's mad, even though that's probably impossible.

"He called you, what?"

His fingernails dig into the sheets, wishing they were around Gale's throat. He could care less about what was said about him, he's been lied about all his life. But you were crying because of something Gale said, questioning his love for you over some foolish man.

"Yeah, and I think he's like weirdly in love with me, and he just never said anything? It was all super gross, and I just can't believe he was like that."

"Funny, I'm in love with you and I would never call you a naive idiot like that. Of course, not outside of the times that you enjoyed it."

Astarion gets back up off the bed, making his way to a chest full of old weapons, memories of your journeys. He squats down, unlocking it, gazing at the various dangerous items.

"Aster, what are you doing?"

He laughs.

"Deciding what I'm going to flay him with my dear, what else would I be doing?"

Rage to the point of hysteria, enjoying the image of exacting revenge. The last time you saw him like this was before he killed Cazador.

"You can't just go over there and cut him up!"

"You're right, I have to do worse. You're so smart my dear."

He grabs a couple of blades out of the chest, and you walk over to where he's scavenging.

"I love you-"

"I love you too darling."

"I love you but, this is only going to make it worse. If you kill him, all of the alarms in his tower will go off, you'll probably be arrested-"

"Worth it."

"Astarion, please just listen to me."

"I am listening, I just happen to be scheming at the same time. I am a wonderful multi-tasker after all."

You'd be frustrated if you weren't worried. He really doesn't like seeing you hurt, or upset, and now you're both, all because some raggedy wizard decided he wanted to cause strife.

"Astarion, you can't even go out right now, it's the middle of the day!"

Now, that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Damn it!"

He tries to ponder for a moment, wondering how long it would take to dig a hole from your house to his tower. After doing some rough math, he lets out a cry of frustration.

"How dare he throw around baseless accusations, and insult you to boot! He's a coward, a slimy, rotten, coward, who's trying to ruin something perfectly good because some goddess told him he should die for the greater good!"

You reach out, grabbing his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Aster, please."

Your desperation snaps him out of his stupor, realizing you're still crying, and his murderous plans aren't helping. He sighs, sitting down next to you, pulling you into lay on him.

"I'm sorry my sweet. I just... I hate seeing you get hurt."

"I know, but killing him doesn't solve anything."

He shrugs.

''Well, it would solve the problem of him existing."

"Astarion."

"Right, right, you're lecturing me about proper emotional maturity and such. Sorry, please continue."

You fiddle with his hands, staring at the details of his knuckles.

"I'm really upset with him too, but I don't need you to go turn him into a human filet, I just need you to sit here and listen to me. I'm mainly upset by what he said about you anyway."

"Well, you know he's wrong."

"Yeah, but to lie about being your friend, and then claim you're still just this horrible person? It's not fair, you've grown so much."

"We're the only people that need to know that Tav. If everyone hated me but you, I'd still be right where I am, loving you, and only you."

You lose a little tension, melting into the warmth of his embrace.

"I suppose you're right."

He leaves a kiss on your head.

"Now, we're going to enjoy our little time left as unmarried lovers, and when dusk comes, Gale and I are going to have a little talk. But until then, you can rant and rave as much as you'd like darling. Does that sound alright to you?"

You draw a little heart with your finger on the top of his hand.

"Sounds great. Thank you."

"Of course whatever you need, always."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #comfort

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darkdevasofdestruction · 8 months

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You Are My Sunshine - Jack the Ripper/Jack Smith x Reader

"A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant... Taste of death but once." - Jack Smith.

There was no true middleground between social classes within the Victorian era, and in London, people could feel that suffering the most. The rich only got richer, while the poor starved to death. Women were hardly allowed to work any legal job, thus having to retort to prostitution, while children begged on the streets, in the freezing cold and rain, and men worked themselves to death in factories.

Somewhere, in one of the cheap rooms of a brothel, a prostitute gave birth for the first time, to a rather special child; A little baby boy, conceived with so much love, a precious little thing that would take the name of his father - Little baby Jack. Though he would live in great poverty, the only money to provide for him being the little coins his mother would get from her work - He was still happy. Not only did he have his mother's unlimited fountain of love for him, but he could also read the book left behind by his father upon conceiving him; It was a book of Shakespeare's most famous works, and little Jack loved reading them, to the point that he would take all of the more notable quotes to heart.

Precious little thing, so innocent, a glimmer of hope in the bleakest world that London was for him. He would go out daily, in his raggedy clothes, to find something to eat for him mum and him - And Anne too, if she wouldn't drink so much alcohol all the time. Every day, for so long, this child had to endure multiple beatings and degrading insults, all to survive; And he did it all with a smile on his face. All for his loving and caring mother, who chose HIM, of all the others of her children, to give birth to and raise! He was the fifth child she could have had, but she chose HIM! He truly as the luckiest boy!

In the back of a bakery, little Jack would often try to get the throw-away pastries and bread that would soon go stale and needed to be discarded; It was just trash, nobody needed it anymore, did they? Still, the chef was angry with him, and with his large, strong body, he would kick at Jack's small and frail little body with such malice that was inhumane. A monster. "You again?! This rubbish bin is MY restaurant's rubbish bin! Whether it's leftovers or scraps you want from it, you'll have to pay! And if you can't, then don't ever come back, you filthy rat!" poor boy was clutching his stomach from the exorbitant about of pain he was feeling; But it was fine, if he could get some food out of it, it was worth it.

"HALT!" the authoritarian voice of a girl resounded through the back alley, followed by the rhythmic sound of heeled footsteps approaching them. Jack dared look up to see who it was - A beautiful girl, radiating like the Sun, was standing tall and proud. She must be a nobleman, Jack thought with a soft blush, admiring that beautifully embroidered light blue dress, the rich leather boots and that pretty long hair done masterfully in ringlets, accessorised with a lovely bow. "You are a man, an adult of all things, yet you dare pick on a starving child? How pathetic are you?" the little lady scoffed, looking up at the man with disgust. "Why, you...! Who do you think you are?!" the chef was trembling with anger, ready to raise his fist. "I am a noble lady of high society. I should rather say - Who do YOU think you are, raising not only your voice, but your hand at me also? I could have your business in bankruptcy, if I so desired." she played the insufferable rich brat so well, it even surprised her. "Which would be a pity, considering I quite like the food from your restaurant. Alas, I cannot tolerate the chef being abusive towards the less fortunate. Perhaps I should tell the Queen to take away your Royal Warrant for good." "H-Hold on a second, little lady! Surely, we can negotiate a little? This boy is just a beggar! He has to pay if he wants to eat my food!" the man became stunned from the awfully condescending look in her eyes. "If you don't let the starving people eat the throw-aways and scraps, then you are letting the rats and all the vermin group around and infest this place. I could have this place shut by simply telling them I saw a rat in the restaurant - Who do you think they'll believe - You, a middleclass chef? Or me, the young heiress of Duke L/N?" she unfolded her lacey fan, cunningly covering half of her face. "If you offer the discarded food to those in need, however... I might reconsider your position in this tough industry."

At once, the chef ran inside the restaurant, only to soon return with a large box full of food, which he let fall in front of the boy. "There - Is that good enough?" The lady took out a golden coin from her pretty little blue purse, and she flicked it on the ground for the chef to scramble over it like a greedy man. "For now, yes. Keep up the charitable work, Chef." the lady looked away as the chef bowed and rushed inside the restaurant.

When he was finally gone, the lady let out a sigh of relief before snapping her fan close and giggling. She crouched down in front of the boy and smiled brightly, offering him her hand to help him stand up. "I hope this food is going to fill your belly for a while." "Ahh, My Lady, you're too gracious! You needn't bother with a sewer rat like me!" the poor boy didn't even dare look at her. "No, no, I won't have that. It's not your fault you were born under such circumstances. Everyone deserves a chance in life. Unfortunately, only few are born under a lucky star. Without money, privilege and status, there is little one can do to live a comfortable and modest life." she explained as she picked both of his hands in her small, delicate ones, helping him stand up. "Can you carry the food to where you stay?" the boy's beautiful smile and blush made her feel happy. "Yes, I'll be fine. You really... You're really too kind, My Lady. I don't deserve your kindness." suddenly, Jack felt his face being cupped gently, his silver hair being brushed away from his eyes. "I've never seen such pretty hair on a boy before. And your skin is so soft also. You even have heterochromia! See - One of your eyes is the colour of the soul, a calming blue like the azure sky; And the other is the colour of love, a gentle carmine like the heart that pumps blood inside our bodies. You are very unique and special." "I-... I don't know what to say, My Lady. I... I'm really happy... Only mum ever said anything so nice about me." the pink blush gracing his features made the girl giggle sweetly. "What is your name?" the girl asked, patting his hair. "Jack. My name is Jack." Y/N nodded at him. "What a pretty name you have, Jack." she praised. "My parents are waiting for me, so I can't stay around for too long. We are going to see a theater play, you see? They are playing Hamlet. Will I be seeing you around?" "Y-Yes, if you want to see me, I'll be around!" the little boy offered a bright, toothy grin. "Alright. I will be seeing you around, then." she nodded confidently. "Oh, before I forget - If you ever find the whole world going against you, then you pay look for me. My home is a little out of London, on a pretty hill next to the forest. Ask for Lady Y/N L/N. And give them this." she took off her necklace, placing it in his palm. "Well, I suppose you can sell it if you really want to. Anyway, I'll be seeing you around. Take care, Jack."

With a pretty wiggle of her fingers, the little Lady bid her farewell before unfolding the fan and gracefully waltzing out of the alleyway, back to her parents, while the boy could only stare in shock and awe at what just happened. He was left completely mesmerised and in love with Lady Y/N and the wonderful shade that her emotions radiated around her like a Godly aura. He's never seen such a brilliant shade of blue before, he wondered what it could mean.

As Y/N returned to her parents, she told them happily about her encounter with the young boy named Jack, and how pretty he was, even despite being in an unfortunate circumstance. Though her parents knew that the social standards of the noble class dictated who to marry and even fall in love with, they were content seeing such a glowing smile of happiness on their little girl's face. Perhaps this little boy, despite being from the very lowest class, could be a nice friend for her. Her father, most of all, knew how good it was to have street-smart men as his friends, when circumstances dictated a more shrewd plan.

Likewise, Jack ran quickly back to the brothel, showing his mum and Anne the bounty he brought home, telling them in great detail his encounter with the beautiful Missy who saved him from the Chef and threatened him into being charitable with the less fortunate. He even showed off the keepsake necklace she gave him, as a promise of reunion! He was so giddy and excited to see Lady Y/N again, that he wished to go sleep faster and wake up earlier, just so the time would fly faster and meet Lady Y/N already.

As promised, Y/N would take him on carriage rides and go to the park or on flower hills, just talking about random things. He especially enjoyed it when Y/N would bring literature books over and would read to him - On the few occasions that he knew the piece of literature, he would unconsciously find himself reciting the lines at the same time as she read them. It always made them smile so cutely at each other.

With this, Y/N even started baking some pastries and desserts for him, and he loved everything she made for him so much; Though even he has to admit, her famous Apple Pie was his favourite.

On a beautiful sunset, Y/N admitted that her favourite colour was blue - It was usually a colour associated with the emotion of sadness, but Y/N never once believed so. It's such a calming and gentle colour, how can anyone feel sad when seeing it? She simply could not accept such erroneous symbolism. Jack, on the other hand, said his favourite colour is yellow - The colour of happiness, the colour of the bright, warm Sun... And unknown to Y/N, the colour that Mother's love shone.

One day however, things changed; Jack learnt the truth of Mother's love. He experienced the most painful kind of betrayal, hearing your own mother cursing you and wishing you were never born. With tears and snot running in rivers down his face, Jack watched Gold turn to a marvelous purple of Fear as he killed his mother; And the very same purple he witnessed from his supposed father, Jack Smith.

Drenched in crimson and all alone, Jack knew he had to find a reason for living, and the means to do so - He couldn't beg his whole life. He was a gentleman, and he wanted to grow up and look the like also. He took out the necklace from inside his shirt and kissed it. He wondered if Y/N would still accept him, even after she sees him in this state.

Although skeptical, the guards allowed the boy to enter the manor, but was only allowed to meet Y/N's father - A pristine man, tall and with a respectable body, wearing a monocle and a rich suit. He was everything that Jack wanted to become. Upon seeing the boy, the Father asked what happened to him - Jack found himself tearing up, explaining his mum was killed and he ran away in fear. Poor boy, he lost even the little family that he had.

"Would you like to work for us, Jack? I'm sure Y/N would be very happy to see her friend every day." the silky moustache of the gentleman twitched upwards with his smile, and the boy couldn't help but blush deeply, nodding. "I-I would love nothing more, My Lord." Y/N's Father hummed gently, petting his hair before instructing the maids to care for the boy and show him the servants' room. He will be a great gardener's apprentice. Y/N loved flowers dearly.

Though the morning started bright early, Jack was excited to have such a great place to live at and work; He didn't get to see Y/N yet, but he was told the little lady of the manor enjoys reading whilst drinking her afternoon tea, in the flower garden. Excited, Jack, under the supervision of the elderly gardener, cut a few pretty flowers and rushed to where Y/N was enjoying her tea. He extended his hands towards her, handing her the flowers. "Good afternoon, Lady Y/N!" his smile was brighter than the Sun itself, and he looked so much more adorable now, properly cleaned up and wearing fresh clothes. "Jack!" Y/N's calming blue aura turned such a blindingly bright pink of a gentle hue, like the petals of a pink rose, that Jack felt overwhelmed with happiness - He didn't know what that colour meant, but he could easily tell it was a very positive one. She threw her arms around his neck and brought him in a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "I'm so happy to see you! Are you alright? Did something happen?" Jack simply smiled at her. "I'm the happiest I've ever been whenever I'm with you!"

From the proximity, the mother and father smiled, watching the two children interact so purely with each other. It was no farce, they cared for each other deeply. For quite a few years, Jack remained as a servant to Y/N's manor, and with the kindness of her parents, he was taught the same things that Y/N was - Although she was supposed to learn more feminine things, to become a proper Noble Lady that would one day marry and what not - They did indulge in her love for science and wish to become a doctor. It was a sad thought, not being allowed to study Medicine because no University allowed women. It was a sad reality they lived in. It mattered little that their sweet girl was brilliant - They'd much rather accept subpar men than an intelligent woman.

But her parents loved her far too much to ruin her dreams.

Jack grew older though, and he didn't want to leech off of Y/N and her family's kindness, so he decided to brave the world for himself; Y/N supported everything he did. They would send each other letters weekly and Jack would tell her of his new studies and work, until finally, he received his first salary and could afford to invite his pretty lady to a nice cup of tea and some cake at his favourite restaurant.

Now in their early twenties, Jack grew a moustache, though still small, yet stylish enough for a gentleman like him, and he bought some nice clothes for himself; He didn't want to embarrass Y/N when they'd go out.

This time though, Y/N's usual bright aura was a little dimmer; A myriad of colours there, some pretty some less so; That gorgeous soft pink was still there, over her heart, but that brilliant blue was faded. The majority of her spirit was taken over by the colour of deep sadness. "It really is silly, you know? A single woman was able to abuse the loophole in our University system, and they quickly shut that opportunity for the rest of us. Not fair, is it?" she sighed, stirring the tea absent-minded with the honey spoon. "It's their loss. You would have been a wonderful medic. The field needs someone with your brilliance." Jack comforted her in his gentle and refined tone. "Well... I suppose all I can do now is to continue studying as a hobby and see if I live long enough for an opportunity like this." the young man picked her small hand in his own, squeezing it tenderly before placing a small kiss on her fingers. "The world is constantly progressing, My Lady. I am sure, soon enough, such an opportunity will present itself soon. People like you deserve only the best in life." he couldn't help but gaze in awe as that sadness was quickly overpowered by that lovely pink, every time he spoke sweet words to her. Could this emotion be...? Could it, really? "I dearly hope so, Jackie."

And sure enough, it did happen, once the London Royal Free Hospital School of Medicine was the first to accept women to study and practice medicine in their classrooms and hospital words - It became the first School of Medicine for Women. Y/N was the happiest she's ever been, and her aura looked like the most gorgeous Sunset, with the pink of love and the gold of deep happiness, and a blue of pride and content. She was so happy, in fact, that she celebrated with Jack and her parents at one of the most expensive restaurants in London.

Every time they would meet, she was overwhelmingly beautiful, and Jack couldn't contain his love for her any longer. "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!" he quoted Shakespeare to her, as they walked through the flower gardens of her home. For once, it was time for her to have her porcelain cheeks all warm and flustered, as they looked at each other, the gentle light of the golden hour caressing them. "I may not have status, nor wealth, but my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." Y/N felt breathless as so deeply in love; If only their beautiful love story won't turn the same way as that of Romeo and Juliet. "Oh, Jack. I've loved you since the day I first met you, when we were children. There is no one else other than you that I would wish to spend my life with." and her parents hoped to have Jack as a groom, for there was no one alive that could love and cherish their little girl the way Jack did.

All was well, and Y/N was experiencing pure bliss; Not only was her love life perfect, but her studies were excellent. But with practicing in the hospital, came returning home at late hours into the night, and everyone knew how unsafe the streets of London could be, especially for young women, let alone beautiful and rich like Y/N. Come 1888, a serial killer began terrorizing London, massacring poor women who worked in the sex industry. He wasn't just killing them - He was mutilating them, expertly removing their wombs, and when his sick fantasies were done, he'd discard them on the ground, with their legs open for all to see their shame. By November, already five women were murdered, and for the first time, Jack could see not only the deep Purple Fear taking over his lover's aura, but her unsettling was visible on her face and demeanour also.

"This is horrible, absolutely horrible!" Y/N moaned in distress. "How could one man be so cruel as to torture someone like this - Five someones, no less!" the woman sighed, sipping on her calming tea. Thankfully, Miss Alice, one of their favourite bakery's employee, came over with their apple pie. Jack's reaction was so childlike and pure that Y/N felt a little more at ease. "Jack the Ripper is at it again, huh... How scary." Alice agreed with Y/N. "Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. It's from Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Monsters created by the human imagination are often scarier than the real ones. If we found out his true identity, Jack the Ripper may turn out not to be that big of a deal, hm?" Jack smiled gently at Alice. "Oh, that makes sense." she nodded, before being distracted by two journalists working on the Jack the Ripper case, on the table nearby, who ran away quickly to continue their work.

From the opposite side of the street, the trio watched as a young lady selling newspapers was shamelessly pushed aside, causing her to fall to the ground, dropping one of the papers in a small puddle of water, ruining half of it. Her distress was great - She would be losing her money, instead of earning some. But Jack went over to her, and smiled tenderly, offering her a coin for the paper, before returning to his coffee. He knew what it was like, starving and needing to do anything to survive - Now that he could afford a better life, he tried to help anyone who deserved, like this Miss Sophie.

"That girl... Her name is Sophie. She recently lost her mother, and because her father is a drunkard who refuses to work hard, she now does all sorts of jobs in order to support her little brother." Y/N couldn't help but look at her with a saddened look. "Is there no way we can help her?" she found herself whispering. "By the way, you're a kind person. You bought the same newspaper as the one you were just reading." Alice smiled proudly at Jack. Jack simply looked down, hiding his smile. "I just felt... Like reading the same newspaper again." he demurely replied. "Oh no, it's getting late. Forgive me, Jack, my classes are starting soon. I will be coming home late tonight, so please don't wait for me." she rushed up on her feet, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. "I hope you sleep well tonight." "I hope you have an easy day at the hospital today, my darling." Jack blushed softly, smiling back and waving her goodbye, watching as she rushed for the nearest carriage. "You are one lucky man, Mr. She's quite the lovely lady." Alice giggled at him. "Yes, I truly am lucky."

That night, Y/N wasn't going to be so lucky one night, when she left the hospital at such a late hour into the night, on a rather chilly night. Y/N kept a shawl over her head, terrified out of her mind and continuing to sing a little tune in her head, a lullaby that her mother always sang her. It never failed to give her some courage, even when she was petrified with fear. So was now, as she rushed down the cobbled alleys of London.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away

Her heart trembled, repeating that lullaby over and over again - Until she got called by a man's voice. She gulped. "Oi, missy." she could feel his terrifying breath on the back of her neck. "How much?" "H-How much wh-what?" her body was frozen with fear; The man could easily run her down and overpower her if he wanted to. "How much do you sell your filthy whore body for?"

Y/N couldn't even scream for help as the stranger slammed a chloroform napkin over her nose, holding an iron grip on her body. She couldn't even struggle, he was far too strong for her. "Gah, whenever a dirty little slut like you is near me, my whole body gets incredibly itchy." Y/N felt her vision warping and her body growing progressively lax. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you. I'll set your soul free from that disgusting body of yours, so that you can go to heaven..."

No matter how much she prayed to be rescued by Jack or her parents, her consciousness faded, and she was left a prey to Jack the Ripper. The culprit dragged her to his home, stripping her naked and placing her on a wooden table in his work room. The walls were plastered with tens and tens of perverted pictures of the women he mutilated over the years. The killer was humming a little tune as he prepared his utensils and camera, ready to rip her to shreds so that the world can see her for the whore she truly is. "I will cleanse you from your sins. I will cleanse this whole world, on God's behalf." he grinned wickedly, gazing upon the face of the woman afflicted by a deep sleep. "But you Gods, will give us some faults to make us men." the killer immediately turned to the intruder, threatening him with a knife. "However... From those faults, ultimate tragedy is born. It's rather ironic." Jack hummed softly. "Don't come any closer! Just what the hell are you doing in another person's apartment?!" the journalist turned killer, Luke Evans, shouted at him. "What am I doing? I'm here to bring my soon-to-be wife at home, you see. I feared she might run into danger when returning from the hospital, and I wished to walk her back to safety. Alas, you caused her great distress and even endangered her life. That, I cannot forgive."

Luke simply grinned wickedly at Jack, threatening to kill him - He knows who he truly is, so he must be eliminated. He was pretty good with a knife, no wonder, considering how many people he killed. Jack would be the first man he disposes of - Or so he'd wish.

"The colour of the emotions that this eye can see... They are works of art that only I can create." Jack smiled, pointing at his crimson left eye. "Such magnificent malice." his smile turned into a mad hatter grin, watching the blood dripping from his piano wire after slicing off the journalist's arm clean. As he attempted to run, Jack threw two of his own scalpels into the back of his shins, causing him to topple over on the ground.

Jack watched as the killer slumped on the ground, his back against the wall; And he sat on his lap, cradling his face. "There are two things on earth, more beautiful than anything. One, is the sunset colour of pure love that my darling Y/N has whenever she looks at me..." Jack huffed in amusement. "And the other... It's that moment when all other emotions are overtaken and dyed in the colour of fear." he grinned impishly. "Anger. Envy. Hate. Disdain. Arrogance. All this time I've been looking for a person who had nothing but filthy emotions residing within them - And you were superb. Now let me see it, Jack the Ripper." he placed the tip of a small knife in the middle of his forehead. "Now please try to imagine how this knife penetrates deeply... Into that brain of yours." not Luke's shrieks, nor his sobbing and tears could stop Jack from slowly pushing the blade deep inside his skull, until he was reduced to nothing but a blinding purple of Fear, and then death. "EXCELLENT! WHAT A NICE COLOUR!"

Jack's delight was great, but now that Jack the Ripper was dead, he had to get his darling Y/N out of this hell. He gazed upon her, laying there, on the wooden table, covered by a single filthy sheet - What a disgusting wretch, attempting to soil her, even daring to associate her pureness and innocence with that of a whore - As though those poor women were selling their bodies because they wanted to, not out of need of survival. "My darling, I have failed you. Forgive me." though it felt awful, looking upon her gorgeous body, untouched by any man - He had to dress her back in her pretty clothes and return home. Somewhere on the table though, he found all of Luke's savings, and he grinned. He wrote a quick letter to Miss Sophie, and was ready to make an Anonymous donation.

Jack held Y/N up in his arms like a princess before setting the apartment aflame, along with all of the evidence of the murder... Or the identity of the serial killer. "London bridge is burning down... Burning down, burning down. London bridge is burning down... My Fair Lady." he hummed as he casually walked through the busy streets of London, and towards the manor.

The man felt a bit of stirring in his strong arms, and he smiled; Y/N was awaking. She fluttered her beautiful eyes open, only to squeal and attempt to struggle away.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away

That lullaby... That voice... "Jack?!" she calmed down as she looked up at his smile. "Wh-What happened?" "I went over to the hospital to walk you home, but by the time I arrived, you were asleep in a chair. Must have been a pretty exhausting night, hm? Don't worry, my sweetling. I got Alice's famous Apple Pie with Cheddar Cheese, and the sweetest tea, just for you. You can sleep after you ate a little." Jack reassured her, speaking in the gentlest voice he could muster. "R-Really? I fell asleep? Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry, you should have woke me up! You didn't have to carry me so long, your arms must be killing you!" the man smiled at her adorable worrying, shaking his head. "A gentleman always takes care of his darling Lady." he hummed proudly. "You're always safe with me." "Oh, Jack." she threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face in his shoulder. "I just had the most awful dream. The whole thing with Jack the Ripper must have truly scared me half to death." she was clearly still in distress. Hopefully, for as long as she thinks it was just a dream, she can rest easy. "I dreamt that I was walking home from the hospital, and this guy kidnapped me and tried to kill me. It was awful, so awful." "I kiss thee with a most constant heart." Jack pulled his lady into a sweet kiss, shifting her mind away from such a nightmare. “A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.” "If this is your way of telling me not to worry, then I love it." she giggled so adorably, that Jack could see not a single trace of that fearful purple anywhere. What a success.

And as promised, he returned her home, placing her on her bed and allowing her time to change in her sleeping wear as he brought over that famous apple pie and brewed her tea. Though it was already around afternoon, he was content with just laying in bed next to her, holding her close to his chest and soothing her mind, caressing her hair. She looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. So beautiful, so innocent, glowing a wonderous blue, content and calm.

Come the next afternoon, Jack brought Y/N over to the flower garden, her favourite place; As the Sun began to set, and the sky's colours mimicked Y/N's beautiful emotions, the silver haired man fell on one knee. “I would not wish any companion in the world but you. I do love nothing in the world so well as you - is not that strange? Nay, for love comforteth like sunshine after rain. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life.” he took out a velvety box, revealing a beautiful ring, golden, with a pink gem, symbolising the gentle colour of the love they shared. "Y/N, my darling, you are my most beloved sunshine, in this bleak, grey world. Will you marry me?" Y/N felt tears streaming down her cheeks as she squealed a loud 'Yes!' and threw herself into his arms. "I love you so much, Jack. There's no one else I'd want to live my life with, but you."

With one true love's kiss, Jack and Y/N sealed their eternal love for each other; Her parents were just as happy for them, completely ignoring the scrutiny and scolding from the other nobles for not marrying their daughter for political reasons. Their wedding was small and intimate, not wanting to involve the whole damn high society and have their perfect moment ruined by the gossips of those jerks.

Life couldn't be better for them; Truly, two souls bound for eternity, in life and above, were to be forever happy...

Though just like the tale of Romeo and Juliet, no love is eternal. Y/N's parents might have allowed them to marry, but life did not allowed them a long life of joy. No matter how much Jack wanted to shield his darling wife from the knowledge of his secret identity, an assassin for the Government, taking down whatever big guy might terrorise the underground... The way he killed Jack the Ripper, the way he took down a cannibal knight who ate children, and a terrorist organisation naming themselves Mother Goose...

Alas, these last ones not only almost killed him by blowing up the bridge he was standing on... But they did the unthinkable. As Jack returned to Y/N's manor one evening, giddy to gift her the pretty fan he found in a new fashion store that opened on the main street, he saw a large fire up the hill. Though horrified, Jack rushed up the hill and to the manor, yelling Y/N's name desperately, but no one answered. He could barely see, his eyes blurred with tears from the stinging smoke and the scared tears. He foolishly burst inside the burning mansion, searching for Y/N and her parents. They were all lying on the ground, dead, in a pool of their own blood. The poor man had to drag their bodies outside, all by himself, though Y/N's he held on, sobbing as he held onto her tightly, his tears raining down on her.

Why? Just, why? Why her? Why them? Y/N and her family were known to be the kindest of the noble families, so why would anyone want them death? It wasn't fair; Why were the most beautiful souls the ones ripped away from existence so cruelly? Why was he not allowed any lasting happiness? What did he do wrong in this life, or before even being born, that he remained so unfortunate, and continued to bring misfortune to everyone he encountered? His mother, his father, Anne, Y/N, even that little lady Sophie from whom he just bought a newspaper and sent some money. None were safe from him.

“When you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.” were his last words to his wife, the last thing he had in her memory being the necklace she gifted him as children.

When he died, or how, none cared, for Mr. Anonymous was no one; He was just a ghost, a phantasm, wandering about aimlessly, barely surviving, all alone in the world, with the only comfort to caress his heart being the criminals he killed, and the perverted satisfaction he got out of seeing that magnificent shade of purple that only the fear overwhelming them could create.

When next he woke up, he was in a gazebo, drinking tea, and a lady named Brunhilde spoke to him. He was to become one of Humanity's fighters in this fight for mankind's survival - Ragnarok, the fight between Gods and Humans. She explained how he can only hurt a God with the aid of Divine Treasure weapons and what not; Though, when asked how to address him, he simply smiled.

Jack the Ripper, the famous Prostitute Killer.

Yeah, that name suited him well enough.

He will be battling in the fourth round against the mighty Heracles, who graciously agreed to transform the arena into a perfect mimicry of London, and with the aid of the little Valkyrie lady, Hlokk, he had every chance to win - If he played his cards right. He only wondered what Y/N might think, if she were to see him under the alias of Jack the Ripper, the man who almost killed her. Fairly speaking, because of his involvement with Mother Goose, he DID end up indirectly causing her death, and for that, he is eternally regretful.

The whole lot of humanity was not only confused, but enraged also - Why would they send the scummiest vermin to ever walk the earth to represent them in a fight? His Godly opponent also was disgusted, seeing that he had to fight not a respectable, honorable warrior, but... A bloodthirsty serial killer who ripped the lives of so many innocent women.

"Jack...!" though he couldn't hear through his fight, someone was shocked to see the love of her life having taken the alias of a disgusting killer, along with such witty tricks which he came up with on the go, constantly lying about his weapon, using piano wires along with countless knives, deceiving the God and so much more. But this Heracles was a resilient powerhouse, and when he expected least, Jack got his precious monocle destroyed. Ahh, this monocle he had was to honour the legacy of his dear father-in-law, what a shame. Now the whole world had to see his crimson eye, and that perverted love for colourful emotions he had.

Y/N only stared at the man before her, surprised to see his true character unfold; In a way, he was a complete other person - But in other ways, he was the same Jack Smith he knew. How confusing. Still, she was going to root and cheer for the man she loved, for her heart would clench in sheer terror whenever he'd get hurt, same as when he climbed up the Big Ben clock, only to make the whole building collapse on the God. What an insanely shrewd scheme, yet it didn't yet defeat Heracles.

Finally, Jack was forced to admit, the true Divine weapons was never any of the things he threw at him, but his own gloves - Practically speaking, the whole arena became a weapon to kill a God. Heracles, through this fight, figured out that his human opponent can, weirdly enough, see the colours of people's emotions - He was so flattered that he blushed, that Jack! "The colours of emotions that I can see are works of art that only I can create!" he declared blissfully. He spoke not only of the beauty that his wife's love for him was, but also, the excellent shade of purple that only sheer fear could generate. "You... Have lost." Heracles declared boldly, calling him out for giving into despair, allowing himself to succumb to the hedonistic pleasures of killing. For the first time, Jack could see such a pure colour of a remarkable Gold, like the Sun. Heracles loved humans so much, even despite their flaws and foolishness. He only ever wanted to bring them on the right path, to save them. He loved humans with all his heart.

This emotion... This sunset of colours... Jack never even dreamt that he would see it again! The colour of his darling Y/N! Right in front of him, in the guise of his opponent! "Jack the Ripper - I will save you from your suffering!" with such a bold statement, Heracles called forth the Hounds of Hades; High gamble, high risk, high reward - Though no matter how sneaky Jack was, not even he was safe from the God's mighty hits, and he received a powerful punch to the face. He tried to run away, using the grappling hook, but mid-jump he got punched away by the God, and he fell to the ground, impaling his torso into the metal fence underneath.

"JACK!" his pain was unbearable, but her had to fight through the agony - With a groan, he managed to rip away the metal bar from his body, panting in exhaustion. "JACK, DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" what a familiar voice - Was he hallucinating? It couldn't be, could it? His sweet Y/N couldn't be there, watching him die for her, can she? She should see him in such a state, nor should she witness the atrocious trickery he was capable of, bringing down the whole damn building to crush the God.

Heracles' colour remained the same through all this, and though it amused Jack, his body burnt with agony. "Ahh, forgive me - I just missed seeing this colour so much! The colour of true love! I missed it so much since my wife died!" he grinned, using his own blood to paint it even wider. "Forgive me, but I'm going to change your colour!" "Just you try! Just you try to change my colour!" Heracles provoked him. "Yes... Let us create the ultimate finale!" Jack theatrically called out; They engaged in a ferocious hand to hand combat, and though Heracles was missing the arm that Jack cut off, he was doing just fine punching away at the human's frail body, sending him flying away, rolling pitifully onto the ground.

"JACK, GET UP! DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" is that truly Y/N? She was the only person that would ever cheer on him, right? If she was there, he had to fight. He had to win. From his blind spot, Jack created a diversion, using the pole he was impaled with to hit away at the God's face - He got roughly punched to the ground, and he wasn't moving. Damn, that was really painful.

"We should have never entrusted humanity on that scum of the earth." one of the humans in the stands spat. "I don't see YOU fighting for mankind!" Y/N hissed at him. A woman next to her, drinking heavily from a large bottle, also seemed to sneer at them. "Why don't you go and fight the Gods, then? Think you can do any better?" she held a worried look on her face. "That boy went to fight them, all on his own." "Miss, do you know Jack?" Y/N looked at her with wonder. Anne nodded, looking at him with pity. "Yes. He was a doomed child, birthed at my brothel by one of the prostitutes there. The only reason she didn't abort him like the others was a silly promise with some script-writer named Jack Smith who promised to marry her one day. Silly woman, falling prey to nonsense promises from lecherous men." Y/N stared in shock at the worried woman, though now, some things were beginning to make some sense. "He was the one who killed his parents, didn't he?" Anne nodded slowly. "But he's not Jack the Ripper, I can reassure you of that!" Y/N declared boldly. "I know this because my parents took him in, and we grew up together. We even married at some point. And when Jack the Ripper was at large..." Y/N gulped, remembering that awful nightmare. It was definitely a reality. "It was our Jack who saved me from the real Jack the Ripper." she spoke softly. "It doesn't matter if Jack never really had a real name, or if he just wanted to take the piss out of people by invoking a serial killer's name as an alias. I know my husband, and he'd never hurt any innocent person! My husband has a good heart, and he's the sweetest man in the world! I have faith in him, so Lady, please, cheer on him with me." Anne stared at the younger one with deep shock, only to end up grinning and pulling her into her side. "What a lucky boy, finding a catch like you. I'm sure our little boy was truly happy with you."

With both Anne and Y/N calling out his name, cheering on him, Jack was able to smile, dragging himself up on his feet. "London Bridge is broken down. Broken down, broken down... My fair lady..." he hummed weakly, looking up at the night sky. With difficulty, he managed to drag himself in front of the God again, reaching to attack with his metal pole, only to get punched down to the ground. Finally, the opportunity arose, and Jack, with his hands covered in his own blood, he was able to use his own crimson life essence to impale his hands into the God's body, bringing forth his death. "Dear... God... That is the name of this technique." Jack smiled weakly. "I dedicated it to you." "You've been very impressive throughout this whole fight." Heracles' praise shocked the human. "What is the colour of my heart now? Has it changed?" Jack smiled dearly. "No. I have lost." the God's colour was truly magnificent, even in his last moments. "I will never change. Don't forget it. At all times I..." Heracles embraced Jack. "Will love humans." "O God, what a truly stubborn person you are." Jack's voice was filled with love as he watched the smiling God shattering before his eyes. "That was a fantastic fight. I'm sorry I shouted at you." Heracles was no more.

With Jack the Ripper being declared the winner of the fourth match, the little Valkyrie lady returned to her humanoid body. Though she remained a little guarded around him, with their souls bound, she now understood him better... But Jack had no better understanding of the emotions he was feeling after killing Heracles. "You can't even show sadness at such a sad time, can you? You really are a pitiable person." she declared, only to realise she was drenched in blood and desperately needed a shower. As she flew away, she warned him to rush to the infirmary, his injuries were bad enough.

With every step he took towards the exit of the arena, and even when he struggled to pick his hat on the ground, he could only think of the only two people who ever truly loved him, who ever truly cared for him at all. His mother's love was fake, he hated that pretended colour - But Y/N, Heracles... Never before has he met anyone as genuine as them. "If I could have any wish granted... I would wish to see you two again." he fell on his knees, his body failing him from the arduous fight he just had, though as he tried to stand up, he was hit in the head with a rock, making him bleed. Not only the Gods, but the humans also, were throwing rocks at him, cursing him for winning, for killing their beloved Heracles.

What appears beautiful, is filth, someone said.

"Hang in there, Jack!" out of nowhere, half of his wish came true, as he watched the silhouette of his most beloved person running at him. She rushed to throw her arms around him, but he couldn't hold back the groan of agony from his sustained injuries. "Damn, I'm so stupid - Forgive me, I forgot about your wounds. Come on, let's get you treated. I heard the doctors here can do magic that no human can, when it comes to healing." she put his arm around her shoulder, helping him walk. As more rocks were flung their way, Y/N's mother, father, and even Anne came over to defend them, opening parasols. "Silly man. Taking on the alias of one of the most hated men in the world. What was in your head, anyway?" she scolded him lightly. "Ahh, no matter, I'm just so happy you're alive." she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "My dear sunshine." Jack smiled, allowing himself to be taken to the infirmary. The medics took care of him, and when he was bandaged up and ready to go, he left the hospital wing. Y/N was waiting right outside, all alone.

With no words spoken, Y/N guided him to the kitchen where she brewed some tea for him. It was just like old times, when they'd have afternoon tea together. How nostalgic. "Aren't you mad at me for lying to you? Or for getting you killed?" "Nope." she popped casually. "For starters, I have no memory of the time of my death, so that matters naught to me. Even if through some circumstances, I was implicated and killed because of your envolvement in something, it's null. Secondly - I know the man I married. I know you tried to make me believe being kidnapped by Jack the Ripper was just a nightmare. And I know your real name isn't even Jack Smith." she smiled at his flabbergast expression. "But none of that matters to me. I fell in love with you, not any identity you chose to use at each moment of your life." "I don't deserve your love and kindness." Jack's comment only made her scoff at him. "This sounds like our first conversation, as children. Let's not have a repeat of that." she huffed. "Anyway, I was wondering - What colours do I have? And do you like them?" Jack smiled, a soft blush covering his cheeks as he held Y/N's hands, kissing them. "My darling, though you are my shining sunshine, the colours of your pure care for me burn bright like the sunset sky, and your gentle love is as delicate as the gem of your ring."

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