˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ RAE'S NOTE. i've been a fan of this man since i first saw him, back in 2021. never have i ever had a fictional crush for this long.
˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ pair. jack the ripper/jack smith × gn! reader
˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ summary. jack realizes and wonders about how he loves you.
˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ warning. none
The radiance emanating from you could easily be compared to the first rays of dawn, to those precious glimmers of sunlight that peeked through the gray clouds after a furious April storm. The halo of light that always seemed to surround you was the purest gold, akin to the luxury of the cleanest gold ingots.
An immaculate radiance that seemed to illuminate only the beauty in yourface. From a spark running through those tender eyes, which he loved to gaze upon, to the gentle upturn of the corners of your lips that formed your gentle smile. A collection of small details that highlighted just how damnably attractive you were.
—Your smile... –Jack couldn't resist for a second longer, not with your face so close to his. —So pure, so fleeting. –His right hand, encased in the dense texture of black leather gloves, rested on your cheek, cradling the same face that had taken his breath away. —Let me keep it, even if only in my memory, for I fear the world might dare to wither it with its cruelty.
The man could be aware of the emotional nature of every being who stood before him, an ability which had brought him both sorrow and entertainment; however, his understanding of his own feelings was complicated.
A man raised on the cold streets of an impoverished London, bathed in the blood of others from a very young age. A human being burdened by the yoke of pain that a life he never asked for forced him to endure. His own emotions had never truly mattered to him, always pushed into the background in favor of a cold, idle rationality that bordered on sociopathy. A combination of factors resulted in a basic ignorance of such specific elements as the acceleration of his heartbeat, the slight blushing of his cheeks, or the feeling of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. All physical sensations that did nothing more than express what he both feared and longed for.
His eyelids opened the instant the realization hit him like a bullet straight to the heart. —How have you done it? –A question slipped from his lips, a quiet yearning to find meaning in something as achingly human as love. —How can someone so fragile subdue a monster...? –Despite his doubts, his inherent fear of being loved, Jack didn't see himself capable of taking a step back, of abandoning the closeness that had blossomed between them with the beauty of a rose of the most vibrant red.
—I may have created a thousand works, —his voice continued to flow with the cadence of a mighty stream, —but none compare to the work that is your existence.
With a tilt of his head, the space between them finally vanished in the blink of an eye. The brush of their lips seemed to make your hearts leap with joy within the personal prison of your chests. —My fair lady, –he whispered between fleeting kisses, revealing what had taken him so long to understand, —you are not only my muse. –He pulled back enough to allow the divine meeting of your eyes. —You are the reason art exists, because you are the only creation I allow myself to admire so much, from afar as from near.
