#jackal x reader

You had just finished working a 48 hour shift at the hospital and after a two hour commute on delayed public transit due to the onslaught of never ending rain, you were finally at the door of your one bedroom apartment.

Eyes blurry as you fumbled for your keys, cursing under your breath as you dropped them your back-ached as you bent down and finally opened your front door. To make matters better, it appeared you had left the bathroom light on in your rush to get out of the house after waking up late. well, fuck, you said to yourself, kicking the door closed behind you.

Setting down your keys in the dish and locking the door and chain, you shuffled your coat off your shoulders and allowed it to dry before sitting down on the bench in the entrance ,shaking your boots off and changing into your slippers with a heavy sigh.

Picking yourself back up, knees feeling weak as you grip the doorway before heading into your kitchen, you feel around for the light switch, eyes hissing from the sudden change before placing the kettle on and choosing your favourite themed-mug. You open your fridge and peel open a pre-made salad, throwing the bamboo utensils aside as you grab your metal ones instead.

The kettle begins to bubble, steam rising, your ears start to ring as exhaustion clouds over your every thought and movement as you pour the blueberry's out onto the greens of your bowl and tear open a packet of sleepy-time tea.

The kettle clicks off as you breathe in the steam, closing your eyes as you lean against the counter and bring the mug up to your lips, a sudden hiss coming from the bathroom has your eyes rushing to open a moment afterwards.

That once ringing in your ears is now replaced for a rising heart rate, its beat drumming through your head. That once exhaustion you had felt now out the window as adrenaline pumps through your veins. It was too early in the morning for any of your elderly neighbours who all were retied to be up leaving only one explanation left, there was someone in my apartment- correction, there is someone in my apartment right now.

Gently setting your cup on the counter as softly as you can, you feel around the still-opened cutlery drawer for a knife and walk out of the kitchen and down into the hall. You make your breaths shallow, footsteps accounting for every squeaky floorboard you remember before pausing and pressing yourself against the wall near the door to the bathroom.

You rise the blade up from your side and for a split second, you see a tall silhouette in the warm light before the light flicks off, casting the apartment in an equal darkness and silence. All to be heard is the radiator humming in the window as your knuckles turn white around the handle of your blade.

You close your eyes, counting, one... two... but never quite making it to three as whoever the intruder was inside your apartment had suddenly turned out of the bathroom. Before you could scream, a large palm was being place over your mouth, your wrist twisted allowing the knife to hall and clatter against the floorboards.

You tried to twist, raising your leg up for a twist yet their open hand was already accounting for that, pushing your knee aside and using their bodyweight to press you flush against the wall.

You shake in place, feeling the intruders heartbeat on your chest as you both share ragged breaths. They release their hand from your mouth as you open and close it, debating of begging or not before feeling a sudden softness as your neck has you jumping as it shifts against your skin, tickling you- curly hair you can see highlighted by moonlight coming down the hall.

They rest their head against your shoulder, you can feel their shoulders move before hearing them chuckle, "Hello, love," they call out, their breath warm against your neck as your heart nearly jumping out of your chest as you more violently try and shake yourself away from their touch as their arms envelop you into a one-sided hug.

"Who... who are you?" you try and sound firm yet it comes out more shakily then you were intending. You push your hands against the strong chest, feeling the muscles underneath the thin sweater they wear, fingers extending- trying to shove them away with no avail as they stand firm in their spot.

"You know, I remember when you would shove and rough house with me on the play-equipment when we were younger. Thinking back..." the man laughs, you can feel his smile as he holds you, your fingers digging into his shirt, "...you really used to be so mean to me before changing that up so quickly the next year that I've always wondered why that was the case?"

You allow the question hang in the air, a name just on the cusp of your tongue as your hands move up from their chest to around their shoulders, you startle feeling a long metal object rather than more warm body heat. "I wouldn't touch that, love. I would have disassembled it before greeting you but I couldn't be too sure until you came home."

You nod, slowly, "Alex?" you whisper the name, unsure and nervous to get it wrong. The man grips you tighter, "yes, and... I need your help." You feel cold when he steps away, watching as reaching beside your head to turn the light switch back on before you can see his small smile... and bleeding side.

Your eyes go wide in horror as you look down to see your hand covered in a deep red liquid. "Fuck, you're bleeding!"

"It appears that I am," Alexander teases before wobbling in his stance, you rush over as he shrugs the large gun from over his shoulder, allowing it to settle on the floor before allowing you to help him over to the bathtub.

You stand there, looking down upon him for a sec, a thousand thoughts rushing through your head as you try and fathom how the man in front of you, currently bleeding out in your apartment and with what appeared to be a fucking sniper rifle was somehow also that little lanky boy who lived down the street and saved your life more than a few times before you threatened his own (with love, of course).

"I'm blushing under your attention, sweetheart. But I really must insist you put your education to use or else you'll be catching up with a corpse instead of a man," you nod again, unable to find words before running towards your kitchen in search of your workbag and first aid kit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, you rush around your apartment, knocking into doorframes before falling to your knees and lifting his shirt up.

Not allowing yourself to become distracted by only looking towards the gunshot wound you quickly feel along his side, the bullet did not go through, its still inside of him. You look up, through your lashes at Alexander, "this is going to hurt."

"It currently hurts," he says back, "but I rather be hurting than dead." In the next series of moments, your white bathroom tiles become dotted in red as blood drips down your elbows and scrubs. Alex is breathing heavily as you dig your pair of tweezers into his side, groaning, moaning and cursing, "could you please, shut up?" you smile sarcastically, eyebrows furrowed as you can see the slight glimmer of metal from your phones flashlight, bingo.

You could only imagine if one of your neighbours woke up now, your public imagine with them now potentially tainted the next time you rode in the elevator together. "A little difficult-" Alex begins to say, you throw one of your hand towels up, "mouth, now," you demand and receive a muffled, "yes, ma'am." Your hands shake, adrenaline wearing off finally as you squeeze the bullet as it slides and Alex wines, "sorry," you murmur before going in again and this time- you are successful.

The bullet is successfully dislodged as you hold it up to the light, impressed by how small it is, "hand-gun?" you make as an offhand comment before placing it on your vanity. And moving to disinfect and bandage the wound. Alex's veins appear sharp, running up his hand that grips his knees, his head tipping backwards as you stitch him up with precision, licking your lips as your cheeks flush. Get a grip, you scold yourself before standing.

Alex looks up at you, before removing the towel from his mouth, and standing, removing his shirt before pausing halfway as you curse him out, "Fucking hell, A! Don't go messing up my stitch work!" You shake your head, telling him to sit back down as you remove the article for him.

Your eyes move down from his face to his defined chest and abs that contract with his every breath he takes before examining your work- still intact, thankfully. "I do believe I have some explaining, after some much needed sleep though," Alexander says, watching as your blinks become extended as you open your hand up for him to take as just like old times you lead him yet instead of towards the swing sets you sit him down at the edge of your bed before feeling around in your closet for clothing from your ex.

Alex watches you with a tilted head, eyes narrowing once he sees the large shirt in your hand and sweatpants in the other. He grips the sheets as you look at him with concern, "would you like some pain relievers? I can only imagine how much that must-"

"I don't think your boyfriend would be quite too happy seeing another man sleeping in your bed, love," Alex says, taking the articles of clothing into his lap as you roll your eyes. "Ex-boyfriend," you clarify before helping Alexander into his clothes and throwing his old ones into your washing machine.

You tip your head back into the bedroom, "I'm gonna wash up, try and get some rest," you speak softly watching as Alex slowly lovers himself underneath your covers. "Mhmm and you will be joining me later?"

You blink, confused, "I am uh- going to go sleep on the couch-"

"Why? There's more than enough space here," Alex opens his eyes again, looking at you with a raised brow, arm flexing underneath his head.

"Well, uh, aren't you married?" you ask, looking at the ring on his left hand as it is now his time to clarify, "divorced, still keep the ring for appearances and all." You nod, a bit confused, "I'll be back in 10."

"I'll be counting on it."

─────── · ·

You click your pen meticulously as you examine the schematics of the building Jackal was currently in. You toggled one of the buttons, triggering the body heat sensor. A soft chuckle emitted from you as you saw Jackal’s figure carefully stalking through the building.

“People on your six,” you told him, setting the pen aside, “there’s a closet to your left, go in there till they pass.”

“Too many?” He guessed, his voice coming through the comms. You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, “bingo. About five people. Looks like three of them are carrying guns, and you don’t want to get into a gunfight.”

Jackal’s figure slipped into the closet, his breathing heavy as he waited for your command.

“So.” You started, resting your face in your hands as you stared blissfully at the screen. You heard Jackal sigh. “What do you wanna talk about?”

Jackal was quiet for a moment, but you saw his hand come to rub his temples through the screen. You rolled your eyes. “I have a job to do. No time for your incessant need to try and woo me.” He remarked.

“It’s not incessant,” you argued, “it’s called testing how well you handle distractions, J.” You tapped the side of your head with your finger, brows raised suggestively.

“Obviously I handle them well, otherwise I’d drop you.” He muttered under his breath. “Is it clear?”

You waited for a moment, humming, “not yet, they’re chatting, hold on for a bit.” You replied affirmatively. “Are you saying I’m too good to kill? Wow, what a compliment from your stoic self.”

“Didn’t say kill.” Jackal refuted. You nodded, letting out a soft laugh. Your eyes followed the men as they began to walk off. “You’re good to go.”

Jackal crept out of the closet and walked on through the building. “Where’s the target?” He asked.

You searched through the building, humming a quiet tune as you did so, “floor above you, room in the far-right corner.” You nodded.

You weren’t exactly sure what brought you to this. Helping the famed Jackal get his hits through. You hadn’t even seen his face—at least not without the ridiculous disguises. Not even in the three years you’ve been accomplices. He didn’t trust you yet, but that wasn’t much of a problem to you. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t even trust your own family.

Jackal always carried a phone with him; not one he needed to dispose of regularly like he used to. You had been kind enough to rig the phone he had to not be able to be used to track him or the people he was calling. Meaning, whenever you got a call from your lovely, emotionally constipated hitman, it wouldn’t even trace to you. Truly amazing handiwork, if you said so yourself.

A loud gunshot was heard through the comms. “Target down.” He spoke gruffly. His tone was always a bit more choked whenever he dropped a target, but he wasn’t the type to get all mushy and come to you of all people about it.

“Quick exit down the fire escape. Pull the fire alarm as you go, the craze will let you get away without any attention drawn.” You said, shifting to your next computer screen as you heard a ping. “The money is being wired to your account as we speak, Mary Poppins.”

Jackal grumbled at that, the fire alarm blaring as you heard the echo of his steps. “I’ll get back to you when I’m in the clear.” He stated. “Remember our protocol.”

“Roger.” You cut contact and stared at the picture. It was a composite drawing of the Jackal, or, at least what they thought he looked like. It could not have been more far off, and it made you chuckle. You pressed a button, clicking your keys as you sent it to his phone with an amused (and sarcastic) ‘wow I finally saw your face!!’

There had been numerous Jackal facial compositions over the years, and somehow they were all utterly terrible and looked nothing like Jackal, even if you hadn’t seen his true face, you knew he looked nothing like that. It was laughable, really.

Though, each time they popped up, you worked your magic and had them destroyed or lost to the web as a meme some Redditor (aka you on an alternative account) came up with for a random thing made with AI. No one took AI seriously. You didn’t want to risk him getting caught. Even if the sketches were shit.

The first time you ever got involved with Jackal was when he had apparently heard of your ‘impressive work’, as he’d say in that smooth voice of his. You were just some nobody working at a tech company, and you were only twenty-nine at the time in a small apartment in New York. The fact Jackal had gone international just to meet you was a bit flattering, but he was very intimidating and sort of reminded you of Batman if he was skinny and lean. Maybe more like Robin, actually. He was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a surgical mask to hide his face, which had felt like overkill to you, if you were being honest. It was summer, for christ’s sake.

Nonetheless, Jackal was… somewhat kind. He wouldn’t threaten you. He did at some point, and you had burst into tears—he gave up and hasn’t done it since. You’d think you’d be used to that type of shit in New York.

Since then, you and Jackal have been long distance friends… kind of? You lived in Paris now, since it’d be easier for Jackal to get to you without flying a whole ten hours (which was freakishly far, you wondered where he was in his downtime). Leaving New York was for your own benefit too, of course. You had no family there, and your friends were under the impression you got an amazing job opportunity. Unbeknownst to them, that job opportunity was helping an underground sniping legend. Who you happened to have fallen for a few months into said job. His accent is really what did it, honestly.

After a few more weeks from the last job, Jackal had another one, and you were his confidant yet again. Probably your favorite part of it all, if you were honest. Getting to playfully flirt with him was the highlight of your day, even if it ticked him off a little bit.

This job was in Paris, so, to your delight, Jackal would be on site near you to prepare. You had insisted he stay with you, but, of course, he was as untrusting as a cat and outright refused.

And yet, in the late night, he used the very same overkill disguise when you two first met, and showed to your doorstep.

“Jack, what a surprise.” You said with a snort, opening your door wider for him to enter.

“Police were outside the hotels and Airbnb’s nearby.” He replied gruffly. You chuckled, “they’re on high alert because you’ve been taking more hits lately.” You shrug. “Don’t you think it’s annoying that they couldn’t give less of a fuck if it was a random person than if it was a big name? It’s so pathetic.” You mutter, mostly to yourself as you head towards your kitchen. “Oh, no. A corrupt fascist got popped in the head.” You added sarcastically.

“PR.” Was all he said, dropping his bag on your table, hesitantly removing his cap, a subtle glance at you, skeptic. You cracked a glimpse in his direction. “Oh, you’re a redhead. No wonder you’re so freckly!” You laughed.

Jackal scoffed. “I’m not a redhead.” He denied. You rolled your eyes in amusement, “so you’re just an average white man?” You joked.

“What’re the schematics for the opera house?” He changed the subject and tussled his hair, likely having been in his cap for a while. You got the memo—you were playful but not an idiot, you knew when he wanted to talk business—and nodded and went to your computer setup, muttering to yourself as you pulled it up on your screen. “So, this opera singer really pissed your guy off, huh?” You asked Jackal, going to the main auditorium part of the building.

“I don’t really care.” Jackal leaned over the desk, his hand resting in the back of your chair. As you went through the schematics, he perked up, “hey.”

“Hey~!” You grinned cheekily. He shot you a look of impatience. “No, hey, as in look.” He pointed at the screen. “Will you indulge me just this once?” You asked quietly, but followed Jackal’s finger to the top of the auditorium where a large ring that was mostly inhabited by the richest of the rich was set. But just above that, was the perfect vantage point for Jackal to take the shot.

You hummed, “nice eye.” You praised, looking at him with a grin. “Sure you can take it?”

He huffed at that. “‘Course I can.” He retorted, “show me what it looks like on the inside.”

“So full of demands.” You tut, shaking your head, “one day, you know, I will worm my way into your circle.”

He chuckled dryly, “somehow, I highly doubt that.”

“Why’s that?” You rose a brow, spinning your chair to face him fully. He set his hand on the arm of your chair, looking closely at you. “Because I know you were an MI6 agent.”

You blinked, staring at him. “I wiped that from every document you could get your hands on…?”

“You’re not the only one good with computers.”

You scoffed as you shook your head. “You’re such a dick, you know that?” You zoomed into the building, a glower in the direction of Jackal.

“You should consider yourself lucky enough to even know me as you do.” Jackal stated and spun your chair back to face the screen, wordlessly telling you to get back to work. “Oh, believe me, I do. And you should consider yourself lucky to even have me on your side. You’ve never even been in the vicinity of another agent. And you’ve got me to thank.”

He paused for a moment before sighing. “Thank you.” He spoke with an oddity, one you didn’t really pick up on until you spoke.

“You’re welcome.” The smile you fostered dropped, stopping in your tracks as it hit you. He noticed and looked at you, his brows furrowed. A solemn look made its way onto your face as you turned to meet his gaze. “Why can’t I ever tell when you’re being sincere, Jackal?”

“Because I don’t want you to know.” He replied stiffly. You opened your mouth to speak, rubbing your nape as you turned back over to continue your work. “I won’t turn on you, you know. I’m better than that. You don’t need a stupid mask to shield yourself from me.”

“Anyone who knows me is in deliberate danger. Your… assets… are special. You getting hurt would be a waste. And we both know I don’t trust you.”

“But I trust you. I don’t know why, exactly, but I do.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why? Because you think you can dictate what I can and can’t feel? I don’t know your name, where you live, why you do what you do… but I trust you, because if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already.” You didn’t turn to talk to him, you just did what you needed to.

Jackal let out a breath, one of disbelief, “like I said, killing you would be a waste. Your assets are useful.”

You clenched your hand around your mouth, jaw clenched. The same song and dance that happened annually at this point, but this time you didn’t reply. You breathed out through your nose. Screw it, this moron needed a reality check, you didn’t care if it rarely ever got through to him. You hoped it would eventually. “Existing is going to get pretty fucking tiring if you pretend to be different people every second of every day. You may be a damn good sniper, but even you have limits, Jackal. Don’t test them, don’t be an ass, and, for fuck’s sake, stop being an idiot!”

He blinked, staring at you. He hesitated, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. The words died on his tongue, all he did was just stare and give a slow nod. “Fine.” He muttered. “I’ll let my guard down… slightly.”

“Good.” You huffed.

“alex, can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

he shakes his head, a shy grin making its way across his face as he zips a bag of toiletries shut. “it’s a surprise, my darling. can’t spoil the fun yet.”

you pout and cross your arms, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside your open suitcase. “how am i supposed to know what to bring, then, if i don’t know where we’re going?”

alexander pauses to look back at you, considering. “ah. well, you’ve got me there.” in one smooth motion he turns back around, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping a few times against the screen. you watch as he studies the device carefully, waiting to give him a chance to speak, but he doesn’t.

for a man with so many secrets, many secrets he’d finally divulged to you and you alone, there could be any number of things going on in his life at any given time. when he’d proposed a week-long holiday for your upcoming anniversary, he’d swore up and down that there would be no other engagements diverting his attention. for the first time in a long time, he was all yours, and at present you were inclined to believe him. he was a liar, yes, and a very skilled one at that, but never without good reason. if something else was to happen over the next few days, then he would let you in on the secret when he saw fit. otherwise… it really was just going to be a vacation getaway, and nothing more.

“what is it?” you ask after a tentative silence, and alex lifts his head again at your voice.

he looks up at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “checking the weather,” he says, turning the phone around to show the screen. “it’s going to be warm and clear. usual for this time of year, but it’ll be windy, so pack a coat.” he pauses, glancing down at the screen again, and then back up at you. “perhaps more than one coat.”

you purse your lips, thinking for a moment before you stand and walk into the closet, pulling out two hangers: in your left hand a long brown overcoat, and on the right, a faded black leather jacket. “which one?”

there’s a spark of recognition in his eyes, and he immediately raises his hand to point towards the left. “that one.”

—— 20th FEBRUARY.

“excuse me, miss, do you need some help?”

ice cold droplets of rain pour down around you as you stand underneath the awning in front of the grocery store, cursing yourself for not checking the weather more thoroughly before you’d gone out today. it had been deceptively sunny earlier, but during the rainy spring season you never know when the weather will decide to flip on a dime and the skies open up like they have today. your outfit had been perfect for the sunshine, but now it’s nowhere near enough to protect you from the rain.

at the sound of a voice you turn and see a tall man coming out of the store behind you, a brown paper-wrapped package sticking out from under his arm. “do you live far?” he asks. “you can borrow my umbrella, if you want.”

the words no, i’m fine, thank you form themselves on your lips, but after another moment of studying his face closer, you realize there’s something familiar about him, though you can’t immediately figure out why. “sorry, have we met before?”

his expression mirrors your own of confusion for a moment before he narrows his eyes, as if realizing something. “aren’t you— ah, that little café down on wilshire street, do you work there?”

you nod your head in response, relaxing now that you know he’s friendly. still, it comes as a surprise when he repeats your name, though you brush it off quickly; anyone who comes into the café could notice the neatly lettered chalk swirls that sit against the black background of your apron’s name pin. “that’s me,” you say with a polite laugh. “but… i’m sorry, i don’t remember your name. i don’t pay much attention to customers, unless they come in quite often.”

“don’t worry about it. i’m visiting from out of town.” he offers a dazzling smile, and it’s so enthralling that you barely notice the sound of distant thunder cracking in the air. “it’s alexander, by the way. or just alex, if you’d like.”

you stick out your hand and he shakes it enthusiastically, his grip firm yet warm. “very nice to meet you, alexander,” you smile, and he bows his head at you.

“so— about that umbrella,” he says.

you wave him off. “oh, no, i’m alright. it’s not far. just working up the courage to sprint back home,” you say with a laugh, hugging your groceries tighter to your chest in a futile effort to protect them from the rain.

“let me give you a ride,” he declares suddenly. “it’ll be a bit shorter of a sprint for you, at least? i’m staying at the apartments a couple blocks down, it’s not out of my way.”

“i’ll be fine,” you say, brushing your hair out of your face as a gust of wind threatens to knock you over. “though it’s very kind of you to offer.”

alexander frowns a little, and you try not to read too much into the flirty pout gracing his lips. “well, i can’t in good conscience let you go off running around in a storm like this without an umbrella,” he says. he shifts the paper package to his other arm and quickly starts shrugging off his coat. “here, take this. your pretty outfit will get all ruined in the rain. please, i insist.”

you want to tell him no again, but just then the thunder cracks again, drawing your attention back to the downpour around you. you can already feel the puddle of water you’re standing in beginning to soak into your socks through your shoes, and his coat does look warm…

“alright, fine,” you concede after a second, accepting the clothing from him and slipping your arms into the sleeves as he pulls it around your shoulders. “how should i get it back to you?”

“well… i’m in town for a while longer. i’ll stop by the café another day this week when you’re working?”

“i’ll take good care of it for you until then,” you nod, offering him a friendly smile as you tug his coat tighter around you, and he grins in response.

alex catches your eye for a moment, a spark flickering in his gaze before he lowers his head to check his watch, almost shy to avert his eyes. “i’m really sorry, i’ve actually got a meeting to rush off to,” he says apologetically. “but it was nice meeting you. i hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

he gives you a little wave and then dashes off into the rain, holding his package over his head to protect himself. you pull the collar of his coat up around your neck, watching as he disappears into the twilight of the parking lot and feeling only a little guilty for leaving him without protection from the weather. but then again, he had offered, and you would see him again anyway. and besides, he seemed to be more prepared than you, in other ways.

“now, will you tell me where we’re going?”

the warm morning breeze brushes against your cheeks as you rest your elbow against the car door, the fabric roof of the convertible folded down behind you. you lean your head back against the passenger seat headrest and sigh, glancing over at alexander in the driver’s seat. the wind blows his hair around in his face, a tousled flurry of dirty blond against his freckled cheeks.

you still have no idea where you’re headed for your anniversary trip, and it seems like alex has no intention of letting you know anytime soon. but despite your curiosity, that thought couldn’t be farther from your mind as you watch him drive with one hand on the wheel, dark sunglasses perched casually on the bridge his nose.

“not yet, my love,” he says coolly, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the wind. “you’ll see soon enough, i promise.” at your whine of protest he grins and reaches across the seat, resting his other hand on your thigh.

the rural city gradually fades out, becoming less and less dense until you’re out on a long stretch of back roads, nothing but green fields and tall grass as far as the eye can see. eventually alexander pulls off the road and stops in a tiny dirt parking lot surrounded by trees. a small wooden sign announces the name of the park, along with a note that reminds visitors to pick up their trash.

he pulls the keys out of the ignition and shoves them in his pocket, and you hum curiously. “is this your big surprise?”

he chuckles, leaning over the center console to kiss your cheek before opening his door. “no, of course not. this is just lunch.”

he slides out of the car and comes around to your side to open the door for you before he moves to open the trunk, pulling out a small cooler and a blanket before shutting it again. he holds out his hand to you, motioning for you to follow him. when you take his hand he squeezes a little, turning back over his shoulder to smile at you before leading you over to a shady spot in the grass.

as alex spreads the picnic blanket out, you start to open the cooler to help him set up, but he shoos your hand away with a tsk of his teeth. “darling, let me do it,” he says, throwing you a playful frown. the ever-prepared man that he is, you know he’s meticulously planned out each and every detail of this vacation sparing no expense, so you surrender and let him continue with what he’s doing on his own.

he pulls a bottle of sparkling apple juice out from the cooler and hands you two champagne flutes, then pours your glass out first before pouring his own and setting the bottle down in the grass.

“the real stuff is waiting at the hotel,” he says with a smirk, holding up his glass to clink with yours.

“so we’re staying in a hotel, then?” you hum, raising your eyebrows at him as you take a sip. “i’m one step closer to figuring you out.”

“must’ve been a slip of the tongue,” he grins, and for once you know for sure that he’s lying. alexander duggan simply doesn’t do a slip of the tongue. every move he makes is intentional, and there’s no doubt in your mind that revealing this little piece of information was intentional, too.

you sigh contentedly, leaning back on your hands as he pulls out paper-wrapped sandwiches from the cooler. he glances at both of them before handing yours to you, your name printed in carefully scrawled sharpie lettering.

it’s so cute you almost don’t want to ruin it by opening it, and you look at it fondly for such a long time that by the time you finally start to unwrap it, alexander is already halfway done with his. you call his name, holding back a laugh when he looks up from his sandwich with mustard smeared over one corner of his mouth. “what?” he hums, mouth full.

“nothing,” you giggle, reaching over to wipe the mustard off his face with your thumb before wiping your hand on a napkin. “i just love you.”

—— 3RD MARCH.

“number twenty-four! ham and swiss for alex?”

the barista’s booming voice calls out the order, and alexander slips out of his chair to go grab the food. despite being the middle of the day, there isn’t much of a lunch crowd in the deli this afternoon. 

you’d seen him again at the café a few days later, and, recognizing him immediately this time, returned his coat to him safe and sound. after that he’d quickly become one of your regulars at the café, always staying longer than necessary and tipping far more than the cost of his regular black coffee and croissant.

days passed, and after one particularly flirty morning he’d finally, shyly, asked if you’d get lunch with him sometime. it hadn’t taken much to convince you; he’d recommended a sandwich shop down the street owned by an old friend of his, enthusiastically raving on and on about the chocolate chip muffins until you’d agreed with a laugh.

he comes back to the table a second later holding a little wood tray with two sandwiches, carefully handing you yours before sitting down again. 

the sandwich ends up being fantastic (he had been right to give rave reviews after all), but the company you’re with ends up being the best part of the lunch. getting to know alexander is more fun than you’ve ever had, and when you look down to check your watch and realize that you’ll be late to work if you stay any longer, you’re honestly disappointed that it has to end here.

“would you wanna go out again sometime?” alex asks sheepishly as you both stand up. despite his calm and collected demeanor, there’s something awkward about the way he acts that you find terribly endearing. “maybe… dinner, or something, next time?”

“yeah.” you give him a bright smile and push your chair in. “i would really like that. dinner sounds wonderful.”

he grins, and you can almost see his cheeks flush a little beneath his freckles as he follows you out of the shop. being around him feels like you’ve known each other for years, and in that moment you realize this lunch is only a first date with alex. he’s already making plans for a second, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

he helps you into your car and gives you a wave before walking away towards his own. and long after his car has pulled away and you’re still sitting in the parking lot, you can’t help but smile. the only thing on your mind is how much you’re looking forward to seeing him again.

“we’re here, my love, are you awake?”

the smooth lilt of alex’s voice pulls you out of your nap and you blink slowly, sitting up and massaging the kink in your neck from sleeping against the car seat. you had wanted to stay awake to see where he was taking you, but with the excitement from packing for the trip you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and the feeling of warm sunshine on your face and the rolling of the car had put you right to sleep.

rubbing your eyes, you stare out the window to see what he’s talking about, but it only takes you a few seconds to immediately recognize where you are. you gasp, looking over at him, and he grins back.

“surprise,” he smiles, watching your giddy reaction as the car moves along the familiar coastal highway. it’s the same little town you spent your honeymoon with him years ago, the one you’ve always said you’d wanted to visit again, but between both of your busy lives and his jobs getting in the way, you haven’t had the chance to.

you lean forward and stick your head out of the car, inhaling the fresh, salty sea air.

alexander pulls into the hotel parking lot: a small but grand little villa that, by the looks of it, hasn’t changed much since the last time you were here. eagerly you hop out and come around to meet him at the other side of the car. he gives you a kiss on the cheek as he stands up, shutting the car door and taking your hand to lead you towards the arched entrance.

when you pull open the door, the foyer is just like how you remember it. tall glass windows offer stunning views of the cliffs, paintings of ocean scenes hang on the walls, and baskets of driftwood and seashells sit atop every antique wooden table. you walk across the room to pick up a magazine off one of the tables, flipping through it to see advertisements for local restaurants, wine tastings, and local art shows.

you’re so invested reading an article about whale watching boat tours that you don’t notice alex slip upstairs, disappearing for no more than a few minutes before he casually returns to the entryway and calls your name, gesturing for you to see the rest of the place.

muscle memory comes back to you as your feet carry you up the stairs and around the corner to the same bedroom you’d stayed in so long ago. he follows after you, the corner of his lips turned up as he watches your excitement. it’s not often you get to go on vacation together, and he’s determined to make sure this anniversary is one you won’t forget.

standing outside the room you push open the door, but when you see what’s inside you nearly drop everything you’re holding. the entire room is covered in flowers, with pink peonies and pretty white blooms in vases on every table, and rose petals scattered across the bed. by the mini refrigerator there’s a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice, a little note attached with a bow around the neck of the bottle.

you turn around and alexander is right behind you, carefully watching your reacting with a smile.

you throw your arms around him and he chuckles, walking backwards into the room with you in his arms. the luggage in the open car trunk is long forgotten as his lips finally press against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

—— 16TH JUNE.

“are you ready?”

despite your nerves, alexander’s voice is calm as he sits beside you in the driver’s seat of the car. your dress bunches up around you as you push the fabric out of the way, leaning across the cupholders to kiss him, the first of many kisses today and over the years that will come.

it had been a long but happy year since your coincidental meeting at the grocery, which he'd later revealed had been not-so-coincidental after all. but the initial shock of learning who he was and what he did had eventually worn off, and the two of you had come out together stronger than ever.

he smiles against your lips before leaning away to push the keys into the ignition, and you look out your passenger side window one more time. a small group of your closest friends and family stand outside the car, waving bouquets of bright pink peonies.

alex twists around to look over his shoulder at the rear window, where the words “just married” are written in chalk marker, as he reverses out of the parking lot.

once everyone is out of sight, you begin to relax into your seat, kicking off the shoes that have been hurting your feet all night. you’re leaving before any of your guests are, having stayed at the reception just long enough to cut the cake and have your first dance, so it’s still early enough in the evening to have some time to yourselves.

“where are we going?” you ask, reclining the seat a little with a sigh as you gaze out the window. the stars are beginning to come out, little twinkling lights in the dusk sky, and you smile as you think about today, finally a moment to relax and reflect on everything.

your new husband grins and shakes his head, keeping one hand on the wheel as he slides the other across the seat to intertwine his fingers with yours. “can’t say. it’s a surprise.”

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send me an ask!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. — @betsybat @wandalfnation @princess76179 @zooni92802 ^^ (i added everyone on my taglist, but please lmk if you'd only like to be tagged for specific fandoms in the future!)

you’re lying on your stomach across the mattress, cheek pressed to your arm, staring at the ceiling as the bed dips beside you. jackal drops down onto it with a grunt.

he’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that the heat coming off him rolls across your back in waves.

for him, that’s basically cuddling.

he exhales sharply, like he’s annoyed at the air for existing. “you’re still breathing,” he mutters.

“sorry to dissapoint.”

jackal scoffs, a short rough sound as his head falls back against the mattress. his tail flicks once, slow and relaxed, tapping your calf before curling loosely behind him. he doesn’t seem to notice he’s doing it. he shifts again, rolling onto his side, elbow digging into the mattress as he props himself up.

he’s not looking at you, but you can feel his gaze skim over you anyway, quick and assessing, like he’s making sure you’re not about to start talking too much.

but... he’s relaxed. and this is the closest he ever gets to calm. it’s the whole reason this arrangement exists.

a little over two months ago, he came back from a mission practically steaming, magic crackling off him in sharp, uncontrolled bursts. everyone else scattered because they didn’t want to deal with his loud temper. but you didn’t. instead, you made one dry comment about how he was acting like a psycho, maybe just to piss him off even more.

he spun around so fast the air cracked, and he got all in your face.

the argument started fast. two stubborn people who didn’t know how to back down. and a moment later, neither of you were really arguing anymore. just circling each other, going breath for breath.

and then he grabbed you.

“you think you’re funny huh? you’re just asking for it aren’tcha!?”

his hand closed around your wrist, and he pushed you down the hall before you could even process it. he shoved open the nearest door with his shoulder, kicked it shut behind him, and the second the lock clicked, everything changed.

....

“hey,” jackal mutters, fingers digging into your arm, not enough to hurt, just enough wake you out of your little daze, pulling you a little closer as well. “don’t go dead on me.”

you blink, lifting your head a little, “i wasn’t.”

“sure. ya went all statue for a second. ‘s fucking creepy.”

he gives you another little nudge, and his palm stays there a beat too long, warm and heavy against your skin before he pulls back like he didn’t mean to leave it.

“you always do that.”

“do what?”

“zone out,” he rolls his eyes, “like your brain just leaves the room.”

“maybe I’m just thinking,” you huff.

“nah,” he says flatly, wolfish grin showing, “you’re bad at it.”

you can’t help but laugh. and his ear twitches at the sound. he shifts closer, still not touching you, but close enough that you feel the warmth of him.

“seriously,” he says, voice dropping into that low, half‑spent tone he only gets after he’s burned through everything. “if you’re gonna lie there like a corpse, at least blink or something.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“well, you’re useless when you’re quiet.”

you turn your head again, meeting his eyes. he’s looking at you. and there’s something in his expression that isn’t soft but isn’t sharp either. like the last of the static finally bled out of him.

he clicks his tongue.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters.

“do what.”

“...disappear.”

you raise a brow. “i didn’t?”

“you did,” he says, flicking your hip with two fingers. “and i had to bring you back. annoying.”

you simply scoff, then turn away and shut your eyes.

his tail taps your leg again, voice low and even.

“hey! stay awake!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꩜˚

the next day hits you like a brick.

you’re exhausted. that deep lack of energy that comes after a mission where you spent hours channeling your magic power. your clothes are a little scuffed, shoulders are aching, and you’re just trying to make it down the hall without collapsing.

but someone steps into your path.

silver.

he doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you, and you can tell he’s assessing every detail. like the slight tremor in your fingers, or the way your breathing is a little too shallow, and the goosebumps on your skin.

then, without a word, he shrugs off his coat and holds it out.

“you’re cold.” he says simply.

you blink. “i’m fine.”

“just take it.”

you hesitate. silver isn’t the type to offer things lightly. he’s not the type to offer anything at all. but the coat is warm, and you’re tired, and the chill in the hallway is starting to bite at your skin.

so you take it.

“thanks,” you murmur.

he nods once. “rest soon.”

you slip the coat around your shoulders. it’s heavier than you expected, lined with something soft, warm enough to make your muscles loosen a little.

and that’s exactly when jackal rounds the corner.

he stops dead.

his eyes flick from you to the coat to silver to you again.

and something in him snaps.

“what,” he says, voice low and sharp, “the hell is this?”

you sigh. “jackal—”

“no, seriously,” he cuts in, stalking closer, “what was that? since when do you take orders from this guy?”

silver barely reacts, just gives a knowing chuckle before walking off to avoid his little temper tantrum.

jackal hates that.

“you like the quiet type now, huh?” jackal continues, pacing in front of you like a caged animal. “that it? you want someone who talks like a damn library book?”

“jackal—”

“don’t ‘jackal’ me,” he snaps. “i walk around one corner and suddenly you’re wrapped up in grandpa’s coat like you’re enjoying the breeze. it’s pathetic.”

you blink. “…grandpa?”

“he’s old enough to be your father!”

you stare at him. and then you laugh.

you don’t mean to—it just slips out, tired and amused and a little sharp.

jackal freezes.

“what,” he demands, “is so funny?”

“you,” you say, wiping your eyes. “you’re jealous?”

his entire body jerks like you slapped him.

“i’m— what? no. no! i’m not. shut up!” his voice hits the wall like a spark, sharp enough to sting. his tail snaps once behind him, irritated, like he’s trying to physically swat the accusation out of the air.

you raise a brow, “hmm... you sure? because you look—”

“I said shut up!” he barks, louder this time. “i’m not jealous. why would I be jealous? over him? over you wearing his— his stupid old man coat?”

“well, you’re reallyyy stuck on the coat.”

“i’m not stuck on anything!” he snaps, pacing like a caged animal, hands flexing like he’s imagining blowing up the nearest wall. “it’s just pathetic! you looking all tired and soft—” he cuts himself off, jaw clenching so hard you hear the grind.

“so... you are jealous?”

“no! you’re just— my plaything. I just use you. so don’t get any ideas! that’s it!”

you stare at him, and he stares back, defiant, but his tail betrays him.

“right, and that’s why you’re throwing a fit in the hallway?”

“i’m not throwing a fit!”

“whatever jackal, stop being an ass.” you say, walking away from the situation because he’s being irritating. it can’t be that hard to just admit it, can it? or maybe you were silly for thinking someone like jackal could ever admit what he’s feeling.

jackal growls, and you make it three steps before a hand suddenly yanks you backwards. before you can say a word, he spins you around, one hand settling on your waist, the other threading into your hair with a trembling grip.

his eyes meet yours for a second.

a second where everything he refuses to say is right there—jealousy, frustration, want, all tangled and burning.

and then he kisses you. hard. like he was furious at you, at himself, at that stupid coat. like he’s been holding himself for weeks and finally snapped. the kiss is beyond messy. teeth clashing and tongues mixing. you whine when he tugs your hair, and he swallows every noise.

but then, it simmers down into something gentler. his lips linger against yours, anger fading as his grip softens, fingers easing their hold in your hair. the urgency melts away, replaced by slow, chaste kisses—a tenderness that surprises you.

 he pulls back, eyes softly narrowed.

for a second, it hits him—sharp, ugly and undeniable. this isn’t just heat, or habit, or something to kill time and energy between missions. it’s the way his chest tightens when you turn away. or how his hands remember you even when you’re not there. even all the thoughts of someone else touching you making him want to tear the hallway apart.

Zeref

He doesn't look away when the sheet slips from your shoulder. He should, but doesn't. The sight of you stretched out in the bed is as beautiful as it is agonizing, and Zeref is motionless in the chair by the window, knuckles white around the edge of the armrest. "You're tempting fate," he murmurs. His voice is uneven, like he's already fighting the urge to go to you. "Lying there like that. Looking at me like I haven't already destroyed everything I've ever touched." He drags in a breath that does nothing to calm the tremor in his spine. "I want you. And I can't want you. Don't you understand?"

Your voice, soft and teasing, makes it worse as you try to reassure him. Zeref rises to his feet, but doesn't come closer. His hands are clenched tight at his sides, magic prickling like a threat in the air. "Every part of me is screaming to be near you," he says hoarsely. "But the more I feel, the more I risk ending you. That's the curse. That's what it means to love me." He reaches out once, hand trembling mid-air above your thigh, before forcing it back with a guttural sound of restraint. "So don't say I'm sweet. Don't say I'm handsome. Because one day I might believe you, and that'll be the day I lose you."

Acnologia

The sheets weren't meant to last, not under the weight of someone like him. And yet, they're still clinging to your curves like second skin, pulled tight across your thighs. Acnologia sits at the edge of the bed, unclothed and wholly unmoved by your modesty as his eyes rake over you with a quiet hunger, "You're not hiding anything from me with that," he says, dragging a clawed hand across the pillowcase beside your head. "I can see everything. Every curve. Every inch. And I like what I see. More than you probably want me to."

He leans in when you shift beneath him, nostrils flaring at the scent of sweat and skin still warm from what came before. "You look like you could survive the winter easy," he murmurs, tongue flicking over his teeth. "My kind of woman." His hand curls around your thigh and flips your positions until you find yourself splayed across his lap. "You don't need sweet talk from me. What you need is another round." His voice is low as he slides his hands up to your hips. "And I'll decide when we're done."

Ignia

He lies sprawled beside you, his bronze skin glistening and a lazy grin tugging at his lips as his eyes trail over the exposed rise of your stomach to the curve of your hips barely covered by the sheets. "All this fire in me, and you're the one burning me up." His doesn't ask for permission as his hand slides under the fabric without hesitation, dragging slowly down the slope of your waist like he's mapping out the territory he intends to reclaim. "Damn. You don't even realize how hot you are, do you?"

He shifts, half over you now, kissing your collarbone before nipping it, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. "I like that you're soft. I like that I have to use both hands to hold your ass," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement and heat. "The way you take up the bed, the way you press against me when you stretch--" His hips grind forward against you, "I swear, every time I look at you, I forget what the hell I was doing. Except this. This I remember."

Mercphobia

He doesn't speak at first. Just watches, his eyes tracing the way your breath shifts the sheets, the way moonlight outlines your body in ripples and shadow. Despite being beneath the covers, he's stares at you like he's never seen you bare before (which he has, many times). "You're... overwhelming," he finally murmurs, "Like deep water." His hand slides across the sheets to touch your side, "So full and mesmerizing." He pauses. "And all mine."

When you tilt your head toward him, Mercphobia leans in with awe. His palm cradles the slope of your belly, feeling its warmth and savoring the contrast against his own cool skin. "I used to fear you'd only see me as something to worship. But now..." His lips brush the edge of your chest, then lower, moving slow, like the tide rolling in. "Now I'm afraid you'll realize you deserve someone better than a cursed god playing mortal." His voice dips, fingers splayed against your thigh. "But if you'll let me stay, I promise to always drown in you. Again. And again. And again."

Mard Geer Tartaros

He lounges beside you, one arm behind his head, the other tracing idle patterns against your thigh with his fingers. "Do you know what you look like right now?" he murmurs in amusement, "Like something conjured from a mind darker than mine." His eyes slide over your chest, your hips, the soft press of your thighs together under the sheets. "This bed was pristine when we started. Now it reeks of you, as it should."

He sits up slowly, draping the duvet off your legs just enough to expose what he wants to see. His tongue drags thoughtfully over his teeth. "You were made to be sinned against," he says plainly. "And I intend to commit every sin twice." Mard Geer leans down then, pressing a kiss just below your stomach, "Don't ask if I like what I see," he adds, lips brushing your skin. "I designed this moment with you in mind. And I'm not nearly finished admiring my work."

Larcade Dragneel

He doesn't touch you at first. Just watches, golden eyes hazy with restraint, as you shift beside him beneath the sheets. The room still hums faintly with leftover magic, his own, and even now you can feel the echo of it in your bones from how it made you arch, cry out and shudder from a command as simple as feel. "You always take it so well," Larcade whispers, voice quiet with awe. "Most can't handle even a fraction of what I give. But you." He leans closer, breath hot against your shoulder. "You make it so... beautiful."

His fingers trail over your arm, then pause. "I... held back tonight," he confesses, his voice trembling like it pains him. "Because if I really let go, if I gave you everything, there wouldn't be anything left of you but bliss. No thoughts, no sense, just... release." He says it like a blessing and a curse as he moves his way down, mouth brushing the inside of your thigh. "But that's not what I want tonight." His tongue flicks against your skin. "Tonight, I want to see you fall apart because of me. Not because of magic. Just me."

Silver Fullbuster

"You know..." Silver's voice breaks the silence, "I was a dead man not that long ago." He was lying on his side now, head propped up on one arm, eyes dragging over the shape of you stretched beneath the sheets. "Didn't feel a damn thing back then. No heat, no want." His fingers ghost over your thigh like he's proving a point, "But now?" He leans in, breath cool against your skin as he mutters, "Now I've got you lying next to me like this, and all I can think about is how badly I want to ruin the bed again."

There's no teasing when he finally moves, his hand slides along your side, cupping the softness of your waist like it's something he fought to earn. "You don't know what you look like right now," he murmurs, voice thick with restraint. "But I do. And if this is what being alive feels like..." He leans down to kiss you slowly. "Then I'll thank this curse that brought me back." His mouth keeps moving, cold lips warming with each pass.

Jackal

The room still smells like scorched sweat, and Jackal's grin hasn't faded since he collapsed beside you. His hair's a mess and scratches litter his shoulders, but his eyes are locked on you like you're the most hazardous thing in the room. "Holy shit," he drawls, one hand lazily gripping the sheets near your hip. "You're lucky I didn't blow up the bed from how good that was." His gaze dips, trailing from your flushed cheeks down to the mess he left behind. "Seriously. I've turned whole towns into craters for less."

He doesn't provide context before rolling over you, his weight pressing into your thighs as his mouth hovers just above your chest. "You always look fucking great," he says, voice ragged, "but like this? All marked up, chest heaving, skin hot from what I did to you?" He licks his lips like he's about to start round two without warning. "Hell, if I'm a demon, then you're the bomb that went off in my head." His hand curls under your thigh, dragging it higher as he smirks. "I wanna see that look on your face again, the one you make right before I make you scream."

Tempester

Your body's still warm against the sheets, your breath uneven, your skin marked by everything he just did, and Tempester is staring at you like it's the last time he ever will. Because it might very well be, again. "I don't know how many times this has happened," he says flatly, eyes dragging over your curves like he's trying to brand the sight into his mind. "How many times I've looked at you like this and forgotten it all the next time I wake up." His hand flexes against the mattress, jaw tight. "But it feels like I've done this before. Like my body remembers you, even if my mind never will."

He leans down slowly, pressing his mouth to your shoulder, "If I forget you again, make me regret it," he breathes, words hot against your skin. "Scratch me. Leave marks. Make me feel it." His fingers curl against your hip, drawing you closer like muscle memory's all he can trust. "I don't want forgiveness. I want now. While I still know your name. While I still remember how good you feel when you come apart."

a/n: Dividers made on Canva, let me know if you plan on using them.