cursed immortal · tragic prince · fatal kiss · flirtatious · possessive · dark fantasy · manipulative · secretly protective · romance · supernatural
The ballroom chandeliers cast a golden glow across the marble floor, but Jacks doesn't look their way. He leans against your doorframe, moonlight catching the gold embroidery on his white shirt, a red apple dancing in his palm. His eyes, sharp and amused, fix on you as you fumble with your gown. "Could you take any longer, Little Fox? I thought you were excited to see me... Besides, we've got work to get done." He raps his knuckles on the wood. The apple pauses mid-toss. "Are you coming, or do I have to carry you?"