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simp-ly-writes · 28 days ago

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The Assassin's Wife

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Charles "Jackal" Calthrop x Wife!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: To put it simply, you are the wife of Charles Calthrop having met him at a work event over a decade ago, your romance was story-book perfection up until when you learned he kills people for a living...

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, fluff and angst, scenes of stalking, blood, violence, injury, guns, and obsessive behaviours, hurt/comfort, arguments, swearing, lying, kissing, the Jackal being a ultra charismatic mf, Marissa (OC), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,570

─ · · A/N: post number 300! woohoo! soo... I kinda really loved this ask and wrote a whole bunch for it. Be ready for some fluff, angst, and then fluff again!

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─ · · You had been married to your husband, Charles, for well over a decade now. You had met him while attending a work event overseas, your job always had you traveling keeping you from starting any longterm relationships up until you met Charles that faithful night.

─ · · You remember the deep navy blue suit he wore with a light blue dress-shirt underneath. His accessories were silver and by the family signet ring on his finger, you knew him to be coming from wealth and to your surprise as he greeted you with a kiss to the back of your palm, he made his empire himself as he described to you over a few too many glasses at the bar.

─ · · Charles swept you off your feet that night with his lingering looks on your lips, the way he gently held your hand, interlacing your fingers before pulling you outside and to a cab. You remember his touch trailing up your thigh as you gasped at the back of the cab before clearing your throat and placing your head against his shoulder... much like the position you found yourself in currently as you watched your husband sleep, his arm snuggly around your side, head against his bare chest as you traced the various scars across it with curiosity.

Your husband explained to you the multitude of stories on how he obtained each scar and warp of skin as you kissed everyone the same; with love and attention as he had shown you. You simply adored how hard working he was, always away and coming back with that necklace you were eyeing in the market or a surprise vacation. But you couldn't help but miss him, want him with you, and you didn't know if that was selfish of you or not to want him with you constantly when he provided for you with utmost dedication.

─ · · But after so many years of gifts and hugs at the airport as you waved him goodbye. You felt lonely sitting in the parking lot wondering the next time you would see your husband and quite frankly, all of your friends told you he was most likely cheating on you by how often and long he was away without messaging or calling you.

You always waved away their concerns for your wellbeing as you took care of the estate, went to work for a few hours of the day before busying yourself with random hobbies and studying various topics for the off chance Charles would bring it up in conversation during one of his work rants, you liked to call them. Remembering the weight of his head in your lap, the feeling of his soft golden curls running through your fingers as he said every time, without fault, "I'd much rather be here with you, my love." But did he ever fall through with those words? no. But you loved your husband regardless.

─ · · You would always pick him up form the airport when he called the night before, waiting in a sundress with drinks and snacks ready in the car for the long ride back. Charles would place his large hand on your knee as you drove, charming you endlessly with his commentary the whole ride home, "I was beginning to forget just how beautiful you were, had to come back." "What an angel, you are. My guardian angel just meant for me." "You look as raidient as the sun in that dress, my love." "Remind me to kiss you with the same desperation I feel now when we stop."

And like clockwork, you would flush under his loving stare and words before being pulled into bed in an outward display of his love that would leave your legs weak in the morning and him bringing you both up breakfast in bed before presenting you another gift.

You held a tight smile while accepting the gift this time, not wanting to seem ungrateful yet your heart desired the non-material... and it seemed Charles understood this, had been planning something for awhile. You observed the box to be moving and to have... hole in it? You thought to yourself before looking to your husband with shock and confusion as a little bark sounded from inside.

"Charles, darling. You. Did. NOT," you gasp before throwing off the lid as a puppy comes bursting out to your chest, licking your face with gratitude before exploring the bed. Charles picks up the fluffy creature, leading it back to you before sitting near the foot on the bed, massaging your leg gently with a smile, "I know you've been feeling lonely recently and I apologize. I promise that after this next job... I won't have to work as much, this is just the last thing, I promise."

You stare into his eyes for a moment, the puppy wigging in your arms as you pet their head and scratch behind their ears with a subconscious smile growing on your face. "Really?!" you ask excitedly, blinking away tears of hope in your eyes seeing as Charles chuckles softly before you, crawling towards you both and pressing a kiss to the side of your head, catching a kiss on the chin by your new pet as well, "Yes."

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─ · · Charles had actually stayed for longer than you were used to, something about preparing and studying his opponent to strike the best deal. You nodded along, interested but confused on the details of this supposed interaction he had planned as you both walked the dog around the garden property line.

"When we get back, I just have to jot-down the rest of the details before I can join you two for dinner. I picked up your favourite bottle from the market earlier that I was thinking we could share?" You nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unclipping your new companion from their leash, watching as they run inside and to their water dish.

Charles's arms wrap around your waist as he presses a kiss to your exposed neck, feeling his smile against your skin, "I love you, darling." You rest your hands atop of his, leaning against his chest and close your eyes, enjoying the warm evenings breeze drifting across both of your forms before taking a deep breath and watching as Charles leaves you and heads to his study.

You get dinner moving, dancing and singing around the kitchen as your puppy runs between your feet, barking cheerfully and trying to dance alongside you. Giggling you pick him up, resting his upper arms on your shoulder as you use them as your partner, spinning and twirling towards the living before placing them in their back in their bed.

Your phone goes off as you rush back to the stove and take the tray out and leave it to cool in front of an open window before cutting the bread. "Smells divine in here," you jump, starting and nicking yourself on the knife, cursing softly as you watch the blood drip from the small cut with a wince before heading towards the sink.

Charles is distraught at the sight of you bleeding, taking quick long strides over to your form, holding your elbow gently as he inspects the small nick, "I'm so sorry," he mumbles a few times between kisses to your face before he moves to get the first-aid kit underneath the skin, patting the counter for you to sit upon as he stands between your legs and dresses the cut.

You smile at how softly he touches you, apologizing as you wince at the solution to cleanse the cut before kissing the bandaged finger afterwards. "I'm quite alright, Charles. Just a minor thing-" you begin to explain yet your husband just shakes his head, annoyed with myself. "I shouldn't have distracted you, got you hurt in the first place, I hate seeing you with this," he holds up your hand in front of both of your faces.

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

You watch as he smiles, brings up dinner and walks past whatever... episode he seemingly just had as if it had never happened in the first place... a mere fragment of your imagination. You furrowed your brows, jumping down from the kitchen counter before filling up both your plates and following Charles out to the patio where a table set with candles was prepared for you both.

Your heart tremors in your chest, watching as he pulls out a chair for you before pushing you in and seating himself. Pouring glasses of wine for you both with a cheers you gulp down the liquid quickly before gently placing the glass back down on the table and taking a bite of your food, debating weather or not to bring up what had just happened or not.

You ultimately decide not too, enjoying this moment that has been few and far between in recent months as your husband charms you like the first day you met, with coy smiles and charming words that have you falling into his arms and back into bed where you rest upon his chest, listening to his heart beating for you once more.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your friends call you in the morning as you invite them over before telling Charles, you rush towards his office in case he is still undressed for they all would be coming shortly to use the pool.

Knocking at the door, his voice invites you in to see the puppy in his lap as Charles fixes his glasses, looking up from the documents scattered across his desk to you with a loving smile and crinkled eyes, "good morning my love, I'm sorry I was not there to wake you."

You wave a hand on his face walking over and pulling him in for a kiss before looking over the papers and blueprints curiously, hand hovering over the smear of red ink against the corner of a crumpled page before Charles' voice redirects your attention with a hand to your hip, giving a gently squeeze, "was there something you wanted to say?"

"Oh, yes!" you jump back to your previous thoughts watching as he turns away from the desk, the dog jumping off his lap and running down the hall leaving the seat empty. You stare for a moment debating, knowing that if you sit down you might not be ready in time. The Jackal did not care about what you were thinking in the moment though, simply gabbing you by your waist and allowing you to fall into his lap.

"Marissa and my other friends are coming over shortly to use the pool, I just thought to let you know beforehand so you could get ready as well," you explain, playing with the buttons to his creme linen shirt listening to him hum. "I'm afraid that I still have-" you look at him with pleading eyes, hand brushing against the skin of his chest and trailing down, watching as the words die on his lips, "...alright. I'll be there shortly."

You quickly stand back up with a smile, cheering happily listening to him laugh before rushing back to your wardrobe to pick a swimsuit and throw-over for the occasion.

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─ · · A knock sounds at the door that has you nearly falling down the stairs and rushing to hug your guests. Marissa squeals in your ear, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you both swing side to side. She presents you a bottle of wine and a platter of fresh fruits which you bring out to the deck, showing your guests to where the fridge and restrooms were.

─ · · You feel overjoyed having the house filled and to see the dog running around and jumping after their toys in the pool. You lean back in a lounge, soaking up the sun before a shadow overtakes the warmth. You peel up your sunglasses, as Marissa tits her head to the side, mouthing, follow me. You raise a brow in question but follow her nevertheless into the pool house in which she quickly closes the door and shuts the blinds on both of you.

"Marissa?" you call out her name, squinting through the darkness before flicking on the light," Is everything alright?" you ask again watching as her smile wavers, hands shaking as she moves to grip your own. "I think it's best for you to sit before I say anything..." her thumbs brush against the back of your hands soothingly, your heart races- debating of weather or not to quickly grab Charles for whatever news you were about to be it with.

Seemingly knowing your thoughts, Marissa shakes her head, taking a seat beside you on a stack of spare cushions for your outdoor furniture. "This is about Charles," she explains- you debate weather or not to roll your eyes. "Of course it is. What news do we have this time?" you ask, feeling irritated as you side your hands away from her touch. She looks at you for a moment before sighing, "I know you feel as though I am in the wrong for calling out your relationship and maybe I am, maybe I'm not but I only want you to be safe and happy... you're my best friend, hun and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You nod smiling, "same goes to you-"

"Yes," Marissa cuts you off, playing with her hair, "thats why I'm telling you that your husband isn't who you think he is." She bites her lip, waiting on your reaction. You lean your head forwards, "go on?" wanting to indulge in another one of her 'stories.' She cuts right to the chase.

"He kills people." You gasp, standing up and shaking your finger, "No, NO, Marissa! That is too far this time!" you stomp your way towards the door, shoulders rising upwards and tight, I can't believe she has the audacity to say such a thing. "PLEASE," Marissa runs up, gripping your arm, nearly on her knees begging, "let me explain... I-I have evidence." Your heat drops at her sincerity, the way her large tearful eyes grip your own, forcing you to take a seat again as she pulls open her phone- your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

You look at the various articles she has saved to her camera roll, the dates of the murders lining up with the most recent trips of your husband. "This could only be a coincidence right?" Marissa does not say a word, simply flipping her phone horizontally and pressing play to a news broadcast recording:

"Witnesses have identified the assassin to be a 6ft male with an athletic build. Crime investigators have released the following identikit based upon multiple accounts and ask that if you have any information on where the killer is or where they plan on going to contact local and world police immediately for the safety of the greater public."

You feel sick, head falling between your knees as you shake and cry, knowing that illustration to be hauntingly similar to the love of your life... or so you thought him to be.

Marissa rubs your back in soothing circling motions before looking towards the door and whispering her next words to you carefully, "Please, come with me tonight. Say that something happened with my family and that I need your support. We'll pack and bag and get you out," you nod along, lost in your thoughts and not quite catching her words- ears ringing from overstimulation, the clothes on your body soon feel to hot as you grip your skin in panic.

"I-I he wouldn't lie to me this way... he said he-he loved me?" you hiccup in between cries, now walking around in circles within the small space- wavering on the line of hysteria. "I have to go talk to him, this is a misunderstanding, they have the wrong accounts, they, they..." you shake your head, trying to clear your mind to no avail.

Marissa stands, gripping your shoulders, shaking you, begging you to listen to her, "Please, stay with me for tonight at least. I don't feel safe leaving you here with him, not with what we both know... he could kill us if he knows... we know..." You fall over, back into the cushions, your head feeling to heavy for your body as your spots of black start to cloud over your vision. "M-Marissa?" you beg for what you don't know as she hugs you, begging you to stand and move with her.

"Please, we have to go now. Stop the tears, we must leave-"

"I-I can't!" you shout before watching as her eyes widen, the sounds of the other guests dying down from your outburst. A knock sounds at the door, your heart drops... you both allow a moment to pass before another knock sounds, more rushed and heavy against the wood, "my love? are you alright in there?"

Charles. You and Marissa both share a look, you swallow deeply- clearing your throat, "I'm alright Charles, just an wardrobe malfunction." You hear as your... husband chuckles, "alright, I have a plate of food waiting for you by the pool."

"Thank you, darling!" you shout back before hearing as his footsteps become distant. You let out a breath you didn't know to be holding as Marissa pulls you up, wiping your face with her towel, determination in her eyes. "We. are. leaving." You nod, not trusting your words as you follow her outside, wincing at the light coming into your eyes and heart.

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─ · · You walk swiftly pass the crowd and upstairs, throwing the closet open to find a duffle bag as you begin to pack a weeks worth of clothes. You stop yourself from grabbing one of Charles shirts to sleep in, your fingers twitching as your heartaches, you bite your lip to conceal a cry as your eyes well before turning towards the ensuite bathroom.

You startle bumping into a chest as arms steady you, hand brushing against your cheek as Charles stares down at you- worry clouding over his eyes as he takes in the sight of your tears. "Whats wrong?" he asks quietly, brushing your hair as you shake in his hold... knowing what those hands have done. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax in the memory of his touch before pulling away and heading towards the bathroom.

Charles stands there still where you left him, glaring at his reflection in the mirror of the closet before turning around determined to find out whatever or whomever made his darling wife cry. He leans against the doorframe watching as you grab a hairbrush and a few hair ties before brushing past him and throwing them into your luggage- hands shaking as you zip it closed and place it over your shoulder.

But just before you can reach the door, Charles picks you up in his arms, you scream, and places you on the bed- standing at the foot with his arms crossed. "Running away from our issues only prolongs them. What. is. wrong?" he asks, muscles flexing as he forces himself not to physically comfort you seeing as you flinch from every slight sound you hear. Who scared you? What do I need to do in order to protect you? The Jackal thinks to himself, foot tapping in wait.

You sound out the party happening down stairs, focusing solemnly on your breathing, "I-I have to help Marissa with somethings. Her family, things went badly and she needs me?" you try and lie yet your words appear more like a question.

Your husband sighs, head tilting to the side as he analyzes your form, eye twitching... no, she couldn't know that. I've hid it well and no one else would know in the slightest... You watch every small expression tick over his features, shifting in your spot watching as he does the same, mirroring your movements- you feel trapped knowing that Charles was not going to let you leave... not without the truth nevertheless.

You look outside, hoping to catch Marissa's eyes to come and save you yet can see no sights of her. Your bag drops to your feet as you grip your hair, Am I ready to die? You ask yourself, thoughts automatically going to the darkest parts of your mind before you suddenly remember your conversation last night in the kitchen...

─────── · ·

Shit, you think to yourself... his prior actions all making sense now. You timidly look into his eyes, purposefully trying to make yourself appear small... make him feel the heart you have loved ever-so dearly up until this point, and to some degree, you still do for the years of affections you both have shared.

"Tell me what you know," The Jackal asks calmly, your blood runs cold as he stares down at you, nose twitching, eyes daring you to try and lie again to him.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say before letting lose knowing that you were not making it out of this room no matter what so you might as well do it with morals and truth. "I know you kill people," you begin to say.

The room is dead silent as you both stare into one another's eyes, "Tell me that you don't," you whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks that you do your best to try and blink away resulting in only more coming. Yet in your husbands move not to answer you provides you with the most deafening answer yet... he does.

You shake your head, nails digging into your palms, threatening to break skin. You flinch again to his touch, feeling as the Jackal gently pulls your fingers away from hurting yourself- your heart hammers in your chest like a drum, you know he can hear it to by the way his head falls. "Tell me that you don't," you whisper-shot, shaking your head, confused as to how the soft and intelligent man you fell in love with, that you married and planed to have children with... kills people.

"I kill people for money," the Jackal whispers quietly, a part of hoping that you do not hear his words, that you would return to your smiling and loving self, taking him back with open arms- unknowing once more yet you understand what he says, "Listen to yourself and say it again," you demand of him.

The Jackal removes his touch, taking in a shaky deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands shake down by his sides into fists, you slowly crawl back on the bed, "I kill people for money," he says a bit louder. You scoff into a cry, "say it again."

"I kill people for money," the Jackal states picking up his head to look you in the eyes, his heart breaks seeing your tears, watching as you flinching when he moves to brush them away. You'e afraid of me, Charles thinks to himself. I've failed to protect you, the Jackal thinks to himself. You are shaking in your spot, "say it again, say it-"

"I KILL PEOPLE FOR MONEY. Is that what you want to hear? Is that enough? Is it enough?" The Jackal snaps at you before falling to his knees, head in your lap as an offering. You feel the way he grips your sides, sobbing into your skirt, pleading for you to love him. Yet you just stare forwards, looking out to the sun and all the people downstairs, your eyes catch Marissa's as you stand, his body rolling off of yours as he stays collapsed against the floor watching as you slowly pick up your bag and close the door on him.

─────── · ·

─ · · You felt disgusted for not being able to go to the police about your husband... or well ex-husband. You sent the divorce papers in at Marissas request after your first month out on the run from your heart but no matter where you seemed to go, what disguises or excuses you used when he would just find your new phone number again, you still loved him.

─ · · A part of you knew deep within that not every moment you shared together could be a lie. He trusted you to sleep beside him, to cook for him, to be his confidant to his "work rants," and spent his pay check on you... but he kills people... you think to yourself, 'only the bad people, promise,' you remember him telling you via letter to your mailbox during your first week in Australia where Marissa left you before returning back to Spain. You shake your head, confused with yourself; head and heart competing...

But when you saw golden locks out of the corner of your eye, green-eyes hidden behind tinted shades and tall muscular body draped in a fine linen suit... it would be an understatement to say you folded in the first seconds and fell back in love in the first moment when he picked up your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and refused to let go, intertwining your fingers together on the table as he payed for lunch and all your drinks without a second thought.

And when it started to rain in Amsterdam where you were currently "hiding out," he draped his jacket over your shoulders and picked you up so that your feet wouldn't get wet in all the puddles and potholes. Carrying you all the back to the apartment you were renting, waiting at the door for you to invite him inside and you did.

─ · · You watched as he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, veins flexing across his skin as he clenched and unclenched his hands when you moved past him to sit distantly on the couch. He thought about the comforting pressure of you on his lap, the feeling of your head on your shoulder and your lips against his own. He wanted nothing more than to feel your skin against his skin, to get a taste of you once more... but he allowed you space, for now... until things are safe... until the job is done, Charles thought to himself, taking a sip out of the tea you prepared for you both.

─ · · After some catching up on both of your sides, your concern grew not only for yourself and your safety, but for your husbands as he was being pinned down on two fronts. One by the police, the other by his target and his men... a part of you knew that your safety did relay on the Jackal getting his work done and knew that from you not going to the police right away, not protecting the 'public', you were in some part just as guilty as he- a participant... "let me help you.... please." And the Jackal nodded.

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─ · · Returning to Spain, the Jackal gave you a series of instructions and lists of where secret rooms, weapons, and security lockdown procedures he had installed for a moment that you had no clue existed before and never would have.

─ · · You shiver at how precisely Charles can check the various weapons on himself, flipping knives in his boots, checking his magazines and checking the sights down the barrel of his gun before giving you a kiss and telling you to go sit in the bedroom upstairs with the dog, waiting to flip a switch in the wardrobe at his request to cut all the power to the house through your earpiece.

You nodded, pulling him in for a second kiss, lingering before pulling away slightly and kissing all the way across his cheek to his ear, whispering, "live for me." You didn't receive a response, only a pat at your hit, silently demanding you to move as you pick up your furry companion and closed the bedroom door, putting on a record just like intersected... sitting still and looking pretty and innocent, just waiting on your husband to return.

─────── · ·

─ · · You didn't bother to look at the clock, watching as the minutes ticked over and the dog laid asleep at the foot of the bed. Your fingers running across the soft fur of their back only to startle as you hear your front door be blasted through and two pairs of boots stomp their way into your home. Your breath hitches as you quickly stand and look at the window seeing no addition people in the tree line.

You double check to ensure your door is closed before pressing down on your ear, listening closely for your queue... "Do you hear me darling?" Charle's soft tone floods your ear, you can hear him taking shallow long breaths in and out, most likely hiding somewhere in the walls. "yes," you whisper, starting to make your way into the closet- waiting... "flick the switch, gorgeous." Lights out!

─ · · You are suddenly surrounded in darkness as you tip toe your way back to the bed and place yourself on top of the covers, scrolling through your phone once hearing their boots near the door. The dog shuffles by your feet but does not move as the door creaks open and two flashlights are shined in your eyes, causing you both to stand alert. "HANDS UP!" a woman shouts, you wave your hands in the air. "P-please don't hurt me! Take whatever you want from the house!" you beg, tears starting to drown across your cheeks as you work to distract the women. "Please!" you beg over and over again dramatically, falling to your knees as your hands press against her boots.

"I'm here to protect you ma'am, just do as I say and we will have no issues," the woman in uniform tells you- you nod your head. "Stand," she demands and you oblige, rising to your feet and grabbing your pet in your arms. "Do you have any idea what your husband does?" she questions you, moving you both towards Charle's study and telling you to sit at his desk. You nod your head, hearing as her breath hitches, "he works in global sales for an insurance company," you explain.

"I can show you the new logos?" you ask confusing the woman. "No, I don't care about that... you are married to Charles Calthrop, correct?" You nod your head again, "Yes, that is my husband." The floor suddenly creaks down the hall, the woman turns around sharply, flashlight pointing down the hall as you hide underneath the desk in preparation yet hear no rounds fired.

Looking up slowly, the room and the hall now appear empty as you listen to boots run down the hall and turn down the stairs into the living room. "Stay where you are," Charles demand comes through your ear, "okay," you whisper, holding onto the dog closely as you brace, listening to the distant conversation and then... BANG... a pause... BANG BANG. Another two shots sound and then... silence once more.

"Good girl, you did your work perfectly, my love," Charles praises you before telling you to come downstairs with the luggage for you both. You feel as your husband quickly pulls you in for a hug, caressing your head in an effort for you not to see the body behind him. You feel as he kisses the top of your head, "All ready to go?" he asks you.

"I'm ready," you respond with determination.

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─ · · A/N: no part 2's to this one!

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader @itz-stuts

148 notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 4 days ago

Text

Pinning Me Down

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Pairing: The Jackal x F!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You were a private investigator known as "Operator Grey" for working both sides of the table, police and the underground equally. You pull the strings to narratives to maintain work yet not everyone appears happy with your puppeteering work as an "admirer" of sorts has you watching your back while not knowing they already have it in sights.

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, enemies/rivals to lovers, fluff and angst, scenes of stalking, blood, violence, injury, guns, and obsessive behaviours, hurt/comfort, arguments, lying, HIGHLY SUGGESTIVE THEMES, kissing, the Jackal being a ultra charismatic mf, not beta read or edited.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,668

─ · · A/N: thank you for all the Jackal asks! I know its been a little while, still hope you guys want to read a Jackal fic!

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─ · · As a personal investigator and private operator for high profile clients your job was simple on the surface level; gather information with no questions asks and leave undetected with the evidence or blackmail your client requested and stare at the generous pay check afterwards before putting it to use.

─ · · People paid for how 'simple,' swift, and effective your operations appeared- always providing the results the client wanted (sometimes even needed) and you did not shy away from going above and beyond, disguising yourself while providing encrypted information, hacking into government servers, following your targets across boarders and seas without a sweat, and occasionally offering your friday night for a round of drinks with your favourite clientele (though before anyone got too touchy you would politely excuse yourself).

─ · · But that was just what your job appeared on the surface; a simple woman with a love for luxury that gained her wealth by blending into crowds and documenting evidence for deep pockets... the thing is... you didn't care for any 'side.'

─ · · Light or dark, the legal or illegal, you operated in the grey space as the "Grey Operator," or simple "Grey." Infiltrating and networking on the surface and all throughout the underground networks on a global scale.

─ · · Anytime anyone would come close to putting you behind bars, all spy agencies and police around the world knew you, knew that you helped them as much as the people they were chasing like a puppeteer pulling all the strings and slipping just enough information for the endless cycle of cat and mouse between criminals and cops.

─ · · Yet it appeared not everyone was too pleased with being "bossed" around as it appeared recently that all the targets you got requested to look over were 'sadly' deceased upon your arrival, a simple rose planted in each of their mouths, a letter in their hands always addressed to you- "Miss. Grey." Tearing open the paper, a dozen rose petals fall from the paper and one to two lines appear underneath. Some have a snarky remark or simple observation about your habits, others a clue for where they buried the information you needed in order to finish your mission.

─ · · Your chuckle at how they remove the 'operator title' from your ails and the way in which they boldly assume you're not married; it charms you as it equally infuriates you that someone is watching you in the same way you do for everyone else, simply pulling you along their intended trail with every new contract you receive and every corpse you discover.

─ · · But your humour did not last for long as your reputation was starting to take a hit. It was all fun and games to start as you observed the stack of letters by your bedside and the singular withered rose you had in a vase within your kitchen... but you did not want to be pulled along any longer.

─ · · So you took a new job, the last one your 'admirer' you tagged them to be had requested you take in order to continue to follow their trail. The catch though? You held no plans on carrying through with this mission, instead you went to a lab, tracing back the rose to its origins alongside the ink, paper, and writing-style used, anxiously waiting back for the results for a potential slip up.

─ · · You tapped your foot anxiously against the tile, eyes flickering between your watch and the clock on the wall, debating which one was running faster (both were timed the same) but it did well to somewhat calm your nerves.

─ · · Feeling increasingly restless, you unpinned your hair, sighing and ringing your fingers across your sore roots while circling the room. You picked up various test tubes and dada sheets left by the last worker within the space, nodding your head along before a 'ding!' had you dashing back across the room and eyeing the screen.

... INK: BRITIAN

PAPER: SPAIN

FLOWER: PORTUGAL

PRINTING: NOT IN DATABASE, ENTER RESULT? ...

─ · · Your brows furrow as you press your face closer to the screen in hopes of discovering a newfound answer within the code only to come back empty handed. The person who had been sending you these... 'gifts' had to be rich in order to buy the various materials and travel to plant them and by the meticulous craft of every shot between the eyes, you had already narrowed them down to being a sniper-of-sorts but they still leaved hundreds of possible candidates if not thousands...

"I'll be honest, I was disappointed you didn't even try and go see my newest gift," a man voice sounds from behind you making you still, gripping the edge of the table. You begin to tilt your head over your shoulder yet their stern tone stops any further movement, "Stay where you are, Miss. Grey and tell me the little image you have imagined me to be before seeing the real thing."

You let out a quick breath through your nose and roll your eyes at the ego of the man behind you. Standing up straight and smoothing out your shirt, you try and squint at the computer screen to catch their reflection. "I won't strain your eyes, love, only your mind, now tell me."

You humourlessly chuckle, "You won't 'strain my eyes-hm?' So a man of murder, ego, and vanity, quite the impressive and if I may say horrifically 'attractive' man I'm building an image of," you strike while rolling your shoulder back.

You listen as the man shuffles footsteps that clack against the tiles, dress shoes, once distant now appear closer, a chair scrapes against the floor before they've taken a seat behind you, "I will only admit to one of those sins. I'm afraid the other are abhorrently wrong, Miss. Grey. Do try again but this time, use more of your brain."

Slamming your fist against the table you are vibrating with anger as the comment slips in through your ears and to the front of your mind, clouding any rationally you were holding onto after being quite literally stalked for the past few months and watching as all your long-standing clients ran from you without another word, all because of this man, you think to yourself, scrunching up your nose before taking a deep breath- squeezing your eyes shut.

"Middle-aged male, European- most likely British descent from the accent yet sounds too forced to Birmingham slang making me think you're actually from London," you tease hearing man grunt but before he can send his come-back you are already speaking, "you had military experience, a marksman or sniper... leaning towards the latter by how well you disguise yourself. I would know you if you worked over the table so you're an underground operative and to know my connections you must be working for someone well-established... and with deep pockets," you conclude, "cleared to turn?"

"You are cleared," they reply, tone appearing to disregard how impressed the man was by how well you could read into him by what little evidence he gave.

Turning around you see a middle-aged man, head tilted up to observe you in a similar way you do him, from the shoes up until your eyes meet and you squint, "contacts and your nose is peeling," you whisper, biting your lip and taking another step forwards, one hand trailing behind yourself with nonchalance while in reality you were feeling for the cold metal of your weapon.

Seeing your little slide of hand you watch as the man raises an eyebrow, "no need to get violent, Miss. Grey. You wouldn't want to be hurting a grade school teacher now would you?" Your eyes narrow at the fake badge that dangles from his chest pocket, a cheery-fake smile with animals stickers cluttered around it. "Well, 'Mr. Richards', I highly doubt that you even have a formal education let alone are teaching a group of forty children when you spend your Friday afternoons in a lab with random women."

"You think yourself to be random?"

"No. But I will be in a moment."

"Is that so? Then why do I have you pinned to a room so easily?"

"You? Pinning me?" you giggle, taking a few steps back and starting to back up your gear, throwing the rose by his feet, observing how it crumbles across the white tiles, little red petals all splattered about like blood. "I would like to see you try," you tease before sharply darting out of the room hearing as the dash after you yet you know these halls like the back of your hand, dashing around a corner and bursting through a window you know to be able to fall through at a safe height into a pile of trash.

Standing up with a hull, rolling your ankle while looking up, you cast 'Mr. Richards,' a wink before walking off with the rush-hour crowd of those getting of work and sink into the subway system without a trace.

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─ · · You would like to say that was your last time running into said man yet he always found another way to you no matter where you seemed to turn or who you worked with... it was as if they were tracking your every move as you made it, that would be impossible though.. I've swapped phones at every stop and gotten all new passports.

─ · · The man, you know know to be as "The Jackal" in one of his recent entries to you still helped you with your work (as in doing it for you and offering you the entire pay check with his added 'gifts' again). You didn't know weather of not to feel disturbed anymore or intrigued to learn more as the notes became longer, the killing of your clients less frequent as he apologized for taking away your work while explaining he had his own jobs to fulfill in the past, and you with every city to ventured to, you thought to see his features pop up in the most crowded of places that made your heart race.

─ · · The Jackal would occasionally greet you in-person (of course when you least expected it). Take the club for instance when he ordered you a drink at the bar before spinning you for a dance and leaving at the sound of the next song like a mere figment of your imagination. How about that one time he waved you goodbye at the airport before boarding a separate flight or that time he acted as waitstaff to an event you were infiltrating.

You remember that night vividly, feeing as his longer slender fingers grabbed the coat from off your shoulders, draping it across his forearm before quickly leading you inside and into a discrete corner to offer some... advice? Before commenting on how beautiful the shade of blue made your complexion look and leaving before you could process his words and went back to hyper-focussing on your mission.

─ · · You hate to admit to yourself now how smoothy that mission ended up going with his feedback and escape plans and how well you both seemingly worked together like a seamless... effortless transition every time your paths would cross again. Just like to puzzle pieces falling together.

─ · · That once irritation now infatuation by how quickly he could rile you up with just a few words and how equally quickly he could calm you and crazily enough, you found yourself relaxing to his presence. Even looking forwards to it and waiting, hoping for the random face in a crowd to be his... you felt pathetic by how fast your heart was running before your brain. Any initial concern going out the window when the moment he complimented your work so earnestly, eyes so wide and welling with truth that you couldn't hold yourself from falling and forgetting parts of yourself in the process as you spiralled and fell into his arms, felt his kiss to your forehead, heard his voice calling your name in the private of one of your homes or felt how his hand gripped your thigh as he drove you both across seaside roads to soak of the sun.

─────── · ·

─ · · You shake the feeling of an over looming stare you never seem to find off of you before turning into your motel room. You had found yet another successful job and were ready to reap the rewards with a five-star vacation away from all the stress you had been experiencing.

─ · · Knocking off your boots and flinging off your itchy wig you sigh, feeling overwhelmed by all the layers of clothes you wear before stepping into the bathroom but the door appears to be... locked?

You jiggle the handle, "just a minute, Miss. Grey," a voice sounds from the behind the wood that has your hand stilling on the metal handle before being flung forwards and into a warm chest as the door is ripped open sending you with it, "good to see you again too," the Jackal teases, lazily casting an arm around your waist as you huff and pull away, feeling his lingering touch against your skin haunting your bones as you walk backwards and sit upon the bed.

The Jackal smirks, crossing his arms and leaning against the hallway arch, staring at you, "It has been some time since we've last seen each other, I thought you'd be all over me by now" he teases, eyes crinkling at the way you scrunch your nose up just like the first day he met you- watching as you foot taps against the floor as you think of a retort.

"Me? All over you? I think you have these roles revered, Mr. Jackal-sir," you smile, hands drifting back on the covers as you lean backwards, drinking in his relaxed appearance.

The Jackal slowly stalks forwards, standing before you before crawling over top of you as you fall back against the mattress, smiling up brightly as he traces your jaw, "and to think," he leans in slowly, breath hot and heavy against your ear as you squirm beneath him, "you'd say I'd never pin you down." He bites your earlobe before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, across your collarbone and back up to your lips where he settles with a groan as you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles around his lower back and smiling into the feeling of his lips on yours.

You both pull away breathless as you reach up, fixing a few golden curls that bounce across his forehead- pulling them back and leaning forwards for another kiss, "Don't make me eat my words now or you'll be left with your hand for the night," you warn, starting to pull away.

The Jackal simply places more of his body weight on you, casting you a glare, "like you'd be able to form words if I had my way with you."

"Wanna bet?" you trail one finger from his lip, down his jaw and neck before feeling his chest and the rapid beat of his heart- watching as his eyes darken to your words, "what does the winner receive?"

"Well why don't we ask them at the end? I'm sure she'll come up with a fair answer," you giggle, starting to pull at the neck of his shirt in a silent ask for him to remove it.

The Jackal does not budge, simply staring deeply into your eyes before briefly flickering down to your parted lips, "She-hm? Well I don't think he has ever lost a bet."

"It would be a pleasure to be the first one to hold one over you then."

"We'll see about that."

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─ · · A/N: I would lose- wait who said that?? lol

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader @itz-stuts @moonlightmvrvel @nadixq

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