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NSFW from here on out! (NSFW note; I don't personally write about him being in a rut, as I tend to categorize him more human in his mind. This is also a warning for mentions of alcohol and knife play)

Southern! Eyeless Jack, raised to use his manners. Pleases and thank yous, yes ma'am and no sir. It's why he'll always politely ask to do anything with you, and mumble "thank you, baby" while his face is buried between your legs.

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who DOES have a truck and he HAS fucked you in the back of it. Truck also functions as a makeshift ambulance!

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who's really good at tying knots. Tourniquets, bandages, and tying you up so you can't go nowhere. They're nice knots too, all fancy. He leans down, quietly telling you, "Now, don't you go tearin' any of these stitches, darlin'. Stay still now."

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who runs extremely warm, so sleeping completely bare next to him in the winter is a common occurrence. He won't let you get frostbite, externally OR internally (It's why he'll sleep pressed up against your crotch, can't have his baby getting too cold).

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who's all whispers and warm hands with you, but he'll chase you down if you decide to get any sort of attitude with him. He knows the mountains and forests much better than you, and dare it be said he knows you better than you know yourself.

"Swear to fuckin God darlin'. You keep running and I'll have to sew you to this mattress. Won't you just let me tie you down all pretty?"

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who's not the type to drink, but wouldn't mind making you swallow the whiskey in his mouth. He'll kiss you before he swallows every time, before he tilts your head back and lets the burn of the alchohol drip down the back of your throat.

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who touches your body to memorize it. He knows every rib, every freckle, every hair on your head. Knows exactly where to put his hands to make you gasp, but really, he prefers to put them where he knows you'll scream.

"C'mon, baby. You don't gotta be quiet, there's nobody else out here. I want you screaming my name loud enough you wake up everything living and dead on this side of the ridge."

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who's fucking you in the same hardwood bed he built right when he turned into what he is. It creaks and groans under the weight of both of you, never breaking. Only thing that's ever need replaced is the headboard.

Southern! Eyeless Jack, who's not opposed to dragging a pocket knife or scalpel across the surface of your skin. He'll never cut you, no. He does however love when you're all wide eyed and silent.

Southern Eyeless Jack, who will spend his nights on the porch on the porch swing, with you in his lap. One hand creeping up your shirt, the other mindlessly tapping a rhythm on the arm rest.

Southern! Eyeless Jack giving you a good dicking down for medical purposes<3

You were in your early 30s now, and you'd never given up searching. You nagged the police department, the county sherrifs, the state troopers. Whoever it took to bring your husband boyfriend home.

You'd kept the ring. Never moved on, despite everyone else's pleas. Cries amany, and years of begging. Family gently trying to nudge you into new dating circles, new friend groups. Suggesting apartments closer to home. You never listened, though. You stayed in your dwelling, far out of state. You weren't sure where his body was, but at least his soul felt closer.

On the anniversary of his death. No, his murder. His rebirth. his disappearance, you walked the college campus you'd known only with him. Walked by where the memorial used to be, a fainted mural on brick walls the only semblance of his existence (besides the permenant pit you felt in your stomach). The paint was faded and chipping, leaving brick-red bruises under his eyes. You shuddered.

Nobody could understand your need to come back. Nobody could understand why you'd want to stay in the same place your lover was slaughtered he killed them first he wouldn't let them take him from you.

You reached the edge of campus.

Heavily wooded and dark. Once a place where the underclassmen partied, drank underage, and generally had the cops called on them. Now? It stood silent, with the whistling wind serving as the only party song.

You stood, silent. It's not like you could yell and he'd hear you. You were grieving, not stupid. Yet you stood, thinking. It was nice in a way. You could think all the thoughts you wanted to tell him, every detail of every day he missed. It usually made you feel better to think, yet today it worsened your mood. You really didn't want to think out loud, didn't want to look crazy. It was a tad late for that though. Walking in the same routine to hang out with your dead lover wasn't really normal behavior.

Slowly, you walked further into the forest, and began to ramble, a low whisper.

"Hi baby. I miss you. It's colder now, I remember you like the cold. It used to feel warm, now it doesn't."

You choked on a sob. You weren't going to go on. That was enough. Maybe somewhere far beyond he'd heard anyways. He always talked about how much he wanted to hear you talk, no matter if it was a lot or a little.

You turned to leave, to walk back to campus. You heard a rustle.

You whipped around, startled. You were frozen.

"...Hello?"

Nobody answered. Right.

You started to walk again. Yet again , you heard a sound. You stopped walking all together, and stood still. You turned around, and took all of three seconds to whip back around and start running.

Whatever had been making that sound was tall, and staring directly at you about a hundred feet off. You sprinted, and screamed, calling out for anyone who might hear. Campers, forest rangers. Nobody. Anybody?

You tripped, too focused on screeching your lungs to death that you didn't look down. In an instant, whatever was chasing you was upon you, and stood over you like a reaper.

It wore a blue mask, with tar dripping down from the eye sockets. Seven feet tall, tail whipping behind. You silently began to plead for your life and whatever afterlife was beyond that.

The creature bent down, you shut your eyes. You felt it reach down, towards your side, into your pocket, then quickly pull back.

What the fuck?

You slowly cranked open an eye. It was holding the ring box. You shook, and your mouth moved before your brain could warn it.

"MY DEAD LOVER BOUGHT THAT FOR ME. DROP IT. PUT IT DOWN."

It turned to look at you once more, and you cursed yourself. Silence, then what could've been considered a whisper? A growl? Whatever it was, it was spoken from this entity.

"i bought this," it pointed towards itself, then gestured back at your form on the ground, "for you."

You sat silent. It continued, "You may not look the same, or feel the same. But you are you. Despite everything, it is still you."

Nine years later, your lover stood. Not the same, different.

It didn't even matter.

Years went by. The forest was your home. You never left. You wouldn't. It took nine years to find your love, your groom. You wouldn't be separated now.

Jack loved you until you died in the forest, passing at his side. Nine years was nothing, only now with an eternity to face without you. Yet, like you staying on campus, he stayed in the forest. Your body may have been gone, skeleton buried. Your soul was still there.

Welcome Home, Jack Nyras and his Bride.