#jackal/rasmus

[newrhys]

leaving you guys with this goodnight

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

all of these are the prettiest things

Raaaaaaa another Narcovember fic! Originally just going to be a normal fic, but then I wormed the prompt in and we're back! Fic number 15 @narcosfandomdiscord

Prompt #20, Book Of Sleight Of Hand: Brace

Word Count: 1.1K

Relationships: Charles "The Jackal" Calthrop/Rasmus

Warnings: None

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

It’s always the quiet moments that draw them in. Peter sits about, examining blueprints, mulls over documents on his computer or phone, while Rasmus takes to watching him, or making some food.

At least, that’s when they’re not entangled in work, or each other. When the quiet moments come, things are gentle, and, as Peter disarmingly feels, very romantic. 

Rasmus hums to himself as he works, and every so often, they look up at each other, drinking in the moment, blushing and smiling like school kids. Of course, the feeling is not embarrassment, it’s the last thing akin to that. 

The Jackal supposes… Well, he doesn’t know what to suppose anymore, switching between architecture and transactions, Dark Core and a surprisingly plain email account. He’s still playing his game, still working through his job. He has not stopped being an assassin just because of Rasmus– 

And yet, and yet, he feels the pull, he feels both powerful and helpless, able to do as much or as little as he pleases. The taste of his lips, his body, all of him, is a powerful drug. 

Worse than that is his smile. Just a flicker of it, a small laugh, a stupid little thought that only Rasmus is amused by… Oh, how intoxicating.  

It’s the little things that make him want to drop those obligations and run. But his American hirer is counting on him, awaiting his shot against UDC. 

In a few short days, he’ll be off somewhere else. Whether it’s back to Spain, or coasting in London, awaiting a new target… 

His stomach lurches at the former. Wife and child, worrying about him, thinking about him constantly. 

Meanwhile, he’s here, in Estonia of all places, basking in the sunlight that is Rasmus. 

“I was thinking about this last night,” Peter says, and Rasmus looks up from the soup he’s started to boil, “Your name, Rasmus… Where does it come from? What sort of meaning does it have? Because Peter, god, it feels terribly ordinary.”  

And it’s not like Charles is much better. Far too regal. He notes. 

“Might be ordinary, but it’s you,” The blond chuckles, “And I love that. I love you. As for me?” He ponders it for a while, trying to trace it all back. “Rasmus… Well, it means ‘beloved’ if I remember correctly… And I’m Estonian, so it’d have to be Nordic.” 

Every thought in Peter’s head proceeds to stop. The article he’s reading doesn’t even matter anymore. He goes as far as to shut his laptop, placing his hands over his knees. He then watches them as they shake. 

It all makes sense. Of course, it does. Every hit that The Jackal is after, there’s always a plan, a method to his madness. But this? Angel, beloved, Rasmus, staring at him as his face starts to pale. 

And even worse, he just… Says that. Three little words: Like icing sugar on a cake, like an afterthought. 

He loves me.  

***

The Jackal attempts to summon up a sentence, a smile, a nod, anything. 

Instead, he’s paralysed. Stuck there, having to brace himself for an impact that’s already made contact.  

He’s managed to quell his shaking, biting the inside of his cheek to compensate. The words run through his head at a million miles an hour: I love that. I love you. Rasmus? It means ‘beloved’... 

He runs a hand through his hair, mulling it all over now. There’s a part of him that’s ready for this conversation, ready to ask Rasmus to come over and  soothe him, but by the time he’s snapped back to reality, he’s already there. 

The blond sighs loudly, eyes downcast, but he reaches out for Peter’s hand, squeezing it. “That was probably poor judgement on my part.” He murmurs, “I’m not even drunk… Just– A lapse in the moment. But… It doesn’t mean it’s not true. I do love you, Peter. But you don’t have to say it back, because that’s scary, and that’s making a commitment, and, hell, you’ll be going in a few days–” 

“I know.” The Jackal practically whispers, and Rasmus is just relieved to hear his voice again. “I know. On my end, I guess… It was very sudden. And in my brain, it was like everything shattered and then pieced itself back together again.” 

He opts to rest his head on the other’s shoulder, keeping his hand in his as he closes his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths, the silence less overwhelming now, and he recalibrates. 

He’s The Jackal. A fucking world-class assassin. 

And whilst he feels the most human he’s ever been, it helps to remind himself of his purpose. 

He supposes he can keep in contact with Rasmus, just in case. Just in case things don’t work out, just in case he’s ever visiting Estonia when he’s free from the clutches of it all, just in case he needs a break from Nuria.

He’s already taking a long break from her, and yet, her insistence on being in his life, well… It’s natural, but feels overbearing. 

Rasmus is instead soft, comforting, electric, wild. A new journey in a place he’s never been, a new spark that he hasn’t felt for anyone, because his first and only love was declared by the fates to be a waitress. 

But, that doesn’t make a wife, well, the be all and end all. If he can be an assassin without worry, then what’s the harm of two identities? 

He opens his eyes now, nesting his head there, in safety. 

“It makes sense, though, Rasmus. Everything makes sense with you. Your name, your smile, your infectious levels of positivity, beard, eyes– I feel like I’ve fallen under a spell with you. If Rasmus means ‘beloved’, then I won’t just… Leave that unfulfilled.” 

Peter adjusts now, sitting upright and facing the other man, running  his free hand gently across his cheek. He sighs, thinks it over, just briefly, seeing Rasmus’ eyes so wide, so adoring… 

There’s no turning back on him now. Because, then, it’s not just betraying him, but also betraying a deep and joyous part of himself that’s been waiting to burst open again, into the light. 

“Yeah?” The blond exhales with a smile. 

“Yeah. I love you, Rasmus. I really do. And I’m sorry that I’ll be leaving in a few, but better to tell you now than never.” 

The blond leans forward and pecks his lips, carding his fingers through his brown hair, “God, I’m so glad you did. I didn’t wanna pressure you, but it feels right. It feels good. And even if you have to go, long distance works just fine, doesn’t it?” 

Peter chuckles and settles for a proper kiss, a heartfelt one, deeper, and the laugh is still rumbling through him. 

“Oh, beloved,” He says when they part for air, “Long distance, short distance, any distance. If it’s for you, it’s just fine.” 

And Rasmus is stuck there, speechless, blushing stunningly, and filled with nothing but adoration. 

[arlodoinghisbest1510]

Help the waiter at the improv show I’m at looks like Rasmus

[non-e-per-sempre]

[sugarcube-stillabookworm]

should have bet on the day of the jackal making a stronger appearance on tumblr right after the jackal kissed another guy because that's very on brand and also very funny considering i'm like 95% sure my man rasmus is gonna be dead next ep. or like, the one after that if he's lucky lol

[novemberhush]

Me, watching episode 4 of The Day of the Jackal: Is anyone else getting the vibe that security guard who wanded the Jackal after he set off the metal detector was into him? And the Jackal was maybe playing into it a little?

Me, six minutes later: I knew it!

(I imagine international assassins have to be good at reading people quickly, and the Jackal read Rasmus and thought ‘gay’ (correctly) and based his interactions with Rasmus on that assessment, flirting with him in order to get closer. Unfortunately I have a bad feeling about poor Rasmus’ life expectancy because it looked like the Jackal deliberately picked his metal detector to go through and that’s likely because he figured Rasmus was the best option for someone he could disguise himself as and use his identity to get into the venue on the night his target is due to be there. And it hasn’t worked out too well in the past for the other people he’s disguised himself as to get close to his targets.)

[whatarewedoingdude]

I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS GONNA DO IT I FUCKIN KNEW IT

[thirty-five-owls]

The Birdwatcher (The Jackal/Rasmus)

A single black stork takes flight, soaring across the dark blue dusk of the outskirts of Tallinn, Estonia. It had just rained; a typical, dreary Baltic night.

Perched on a nearby rooftop, the Jackal briefly took his binoculars off the shiny, modern venue he had been spying on, and turned to the bird’s path of flight.

He followed closely with the binoculars its slender neck and long body, gliding into the distance. The black stork is a rare sighting this far north in Europe, especially close to the city, so he was lucky to have seen one tonight.

But then again, the Jackal thought, it is the start of migration season. So perhaps luck didn’t have much to do with it, he had simply showed up in the right place at the right time.

Locking onto the bird from within the confines of the small round lenses reminded him of a feeling he didn’t particularly enjoy. When a target is able to remain stationary in his scope for this long, what closely follows is usually a swift extinguishing of life.

Almost against his will, his subconsciousness conjured up an image of the large black-and-red bird falling straight down, lifeless, from the sky, wings limp against its body. Or perhaps it would be a spiral?

He watched, like he always did, until the stork became a disappearing black dot in the far-off sky, the occasional flap of the wings so full of life, graceful.

He’d never kill a bird for game, mainly because birdwatching calmed him. Like now, a nice little distraction from the somewhat pressing job he had on hand of assassinating UDC, his most profitable target yet.

The venue itself, from the outside, was nigh impossible to penetrate. A day of reconnaissance made him sure of this: infiltrating from the inside was the only way to go. The Jackal lied prone on the rooftop incredibly still, chewing over this new conclusion.

It was at this moment that his breakthrough, as abrupt and unexpected as the stork, came into the viewfinder. A round baby face with brilliant eyes, dirty blond hair, that younger Estonian man stepped out of The Estonia Kontserdisaal into the cold, crisp night air, having just finished a work shift.

The Jackal watched him pause on the stairs, turn around, wave and loudly talk back to his colleagues, something in Estonian that was indistinguishable from this distance, white puffs of cloud rising and dissipating as he talked. Rasmus, that was his name. Rasmus shivered, stuck both hands in his coat pockets, and began to trek home.

Like a birdwatcher sitting all day under the sun for a glimpse of a rare species, being able to catch sight of Rasmus alone has made the Jackal’s day of watching the venue worth its time.

He pocketed his binoculars, slowly let out a long breath he’d been holding in, and got up off the ground.

[s-sweetmarie]

I think it's crazy how the Jackal killed so many innocents after killing Rasmus, like he did kill when necessary but especially after Rasmus he just went crazy lmfao

[daeagon]

Do I even have to say it?

[samsdei]

Andreas Jessen

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

The Blueprint On My Mind

Another Day Of The Jackal fic because MY GOODNESS this show is NOT leaving me alone!!! I will continue to go feral!! Prepare yourselves!

This is my first 5+1 fic too, so enjoy that for what it's worth! The formatting might be a bit off because I tried to add extra spacing between each section. Let me know if that's a problem!

Otherwise, enjoy the fic, and feel free to go feral with me, too!

Word Count: 2.4K

Relationships: Charles "The Jackal" Calthrop/Rasmus

Warnings: None

1.

Every morning, Peter wakes up and has something to check. An email, a transaction account, a dodgy website, a weapons blog. 

He sneaks out of bed sometimes, just to make sure he can get some work done, be productive, before Rasmus awakens and he’s surrounded by domestic bliss. 

Sometimes, that involves sitting on the floor, lying down, shoddily dressed in pyjamas or whatever feels comfortable, staring at blueprints. 

He’s convinced himself that he knows what he’s doing. It helps to have that watchful eye, that pressure on him. Even if it’s only in this moment, and no other time. Peter can focus more clearly, let the dots connect… The Kontserdisaal is grand, intricate, and beautiful. 

He lets himself yawn as his fingers drag over the page, as he mumbles this and that, thinking the rest in his head. 

He can feel Rasmus lingering behind him, crouched down on the floor like it’s natural. Then, his hands press against Peter’s shoulders, soothing and yet heavy. 

Grounding him. This is where he is. This is what he’s doing. He’s an architectural engineer named Peter, and this is Rasmus, adorable Rasmus, right beside him. 

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” The Brit laughs, turning to face the other man, “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” The blond replies, looking between his tired face and the blueprint on the floor, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… Why do you have to work all the time?” 

The Jackal flashes a smile as he strokes a thumb over his cheek. He knows damn well why, he’s on deadline, out to kill people. 

It excites him. Killing people. He really is a twisted motherfucker, isn’t he? 

Instead, Peter says, “It’s important, Rasmus. And work, well… It keeps my mind running. I always need something to do.” 

The security guard, cheeky as all hell, just smirks at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, you do... ” 

The brown-haired man simply rolls his eyes. 

2.

Peter lies down on the bed the next time, eyes blinking to stay awake. 

Rasmus is working a late shift tonight, so he has more time to himself.

He laughs, letting the sound reverberate and echo, filling the quiet flat. He’s tracing out the page like the security man traces his scars.

It’s stupid, and yet, delightful. Sitting here as night’s falling, and he’s enjoying these intricacies…

He can’t blame himself, though. He’s enjoyed them for years, professionally and recreationally. It’s all second-nature to him.

He hums, mulling the situation over. So many doors, but only a few designated exits. How will he make his escape?

Yes, he’ll make his escape by—

The door creaks open behind him, revealing a silhouette of the man he loves, sweaty, dishevelled and smiling.

“Sorry, love. Did I wake you?” He breathes, gesturing to the bathroom, planning to shower.

Peter rolls over with wide eyes and shakes his head, “I’ve been studying.” 

“Oh.” Rasmus mumbles, stepping forward to see… Right. This thing that he loathes. “Yeah, of course.” 

He’s an architectural engineer… This stuff is what he puts his life and soul into. He has to remind himself of the fact.

Nevertheless, he sits at the edge of the back, and Peter makes room for him. The blond laughs and cups his cheek, planting kisses all over his face, before latching onto his lips. 

Peter reciprocates, slow, careful, similarly running his hand over Rasmus’ face, his good man face, before he pulls back, making a face of semi-disgust.

“Goodness, you really are sweaty. Did they make you run laps in that venue or what?!” 

The security guard blushes, “That combined with racing around for the tech crew will do that to you.” 

“Go shower. I’ll still be here.” 

With a nod, he leaves, pulling off his jacket first and proceeding to get undressed. 

He has, unfortunately, not been successful in his task, one he’s formed so quickly and decided so keenly on. But he knows he has time, and Peter Gibson is so dangerously human.

So human, in fact, that he looks at a blueprint like it has hung the moon for him.

Well, that’s a little fucked up, if Rasmus has anything to say about it… 

3.

Rasmus rolls over and bumps into Peter’s shoulder, laughing quietly.

“You there, darling?” He asks, not without a gentle grin.

He knows his lover has the tendency to drift off after their whirlwinds of passion. And tonight is no exception. 

“I’m here,” Peter mumbles, sparing the blond a glance, before returning his gaze to the ceiling. 

He unwinds in this way, Rasmus has found. Staring at the ceiling, as though searching for something only he can see. Is he daydreaming or replaying the moments in his head? Is he living out his past or thinking of the future?

“Hey, once you’re done recharging…” He smirks, running a hand over the other’s chest, “You know, I’d be happy to go again.” 

Peter laughs at the idea, smiles softly, and snuggles in closer to Rasmus, kissing his cheek. 

Then, just like that, he’s gone and distanced himself, arms hugging his body, staring at the goddamn ceiling.

“Not tonight, beloved,” Peter whispers, blinking. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” 

Rasmus flushes, more taken aback than anything else, “Wh— I do too , Peter. Is there something I’ve done?” Worry laces his voice, “Have I overstepped?” 

The brown-haired man shakes his head, turning to face the other now. It’s ironic, he thinks, for the security guard to be overwhelmed like this, to be a bundle of insecurities. 

“No, you haven’t.” He runs a hand over Rasmus’ cheek. “You could never overstep. And if you do, I’ll tell you… And I assume you’d do the same with me, yeah?” He pauses for breath, watching the blond nod, “You know who I am, beloved. You really know. How we're even working in the same place is beyond my wildest dreams— So, if I’ve got a long day, I’ve got a long day. I’ve got to keep big places structurally sound.” 

Rasmus rolls his eyes, as though to say, ‘I know that!’, and he parts his lips, finding the words… But first, he gestures to the ceiling, “Are you imagining something up there? A big achievement with your engineering? Is that it?” 

Peter simply lies flat on his back again, scratching his nose before sighing. “Almost there, Rasmus.” 

And the bedroom falls silent. 

Eventually, the blond falls asleep, watching his lover somehow stay awake for so long. He stays there, watching, watching as his mouth moves, but nothing comes out… 

From a part deep within his brain, it clicks. 

Peter’s thinking about those blueprints, isn’t he? 

4.

“You’re kidding, right?” 

The Jackal looks up from his bowl of cereal, met with Rasmus’ surprisingly stern gaze. 

“I don’t kid about anything.” 

The blond pats the table, or more specifically, the page spread across it. Weighty, large, and diagrammed all over. 

He’s worked at the Kontserdisaal for most of his life… He understands the beauty behind the building, understands its worldwide acclaim, but to this extent? No, no. Any further on, and he’s just baffled. 

“So,” The security guard begins, sitting down opposite Peter, “You really never get bored of ogling this thing?” 

“Never,” He hums, sighing and letting the tension unwind in his shoulders. “I mean, it’s a job thing. You wouldn’t get sick of scanning patrons, would you?” 

“Well,” Rasmus leans forward, clasping his hands together, “Sometimes. I found you that way, so, no, not always… But there’s another high-tech scanner being installed in a few days. That’ll take some of the pressure off.” 

In a few days. The Jackal’s mind races, A few days… When UDC is holding the opening ceremony for River. 

“Oh, sure.” He replies absentmindedly, eating another spoonful of cereal before shuffling over to the page. 

Peter can’t help his intense stare at the blueprint now. As a hitman, not as a normal civilian, and even less as an architectural engineer. 

His breath hitches. The calculations stir inside his brain. How far to take the shot from, how lethal it’ll be, how to do it all and remain undetected. 

His fingers drag over from the door, to the dress circle seats, then down to the stage. 

He’ll have to take his shot from the top, somehow, whilst he lays low in what is basically a ventilation space for two days… 

Well, that’s if he’s caught. That’s if he needs a desperate last resort. 

“Peter?” Rasmus asks, his eyes wide with concern, “Is everything ok?” 

He chuckles it off and leans back in his seat, facing his lover now. He doesn’t dare to touch his cereal. 

“Yeah, everything’s alright.” He nods, letting his fingers tap against the table’s surface. “I just– It’s like an adrenaline rush, you know?” 

“I get it.” The blond replies as he strokes a thumb through Peter’s hair, “I always find there’s a thrill when scanning so many people in a row, a spike of something inside, thinking the next person will be dangerous or armed with something.” 

The Jackal simply smirks, because he’s as dangerous as they come. 

5.

Rasmus returns to his flat, shopping bags in tow. He dumps them unceremoniously on the kitchen counter and catches his breath. 

He doesn’t know where Peter is, whether he’s working, sleeping, getting dressed… It doesn’t matter. Maybe he needs some time to himself. The more that he thinks about it, the more that he realises how false that is.  

Every day with the dangerous architectural engineer feels like forever. He feels like he needs him to breathe. 

He stretches from side to side and wanders through the space, peering through the dim light. “Hey, Peter?” He calls out, “You here?” 

After a few moments of silence, he hears, “Yeah! Outside!”, and Rasmus turns on his feet. 

Goddamn Peter Gibson is indeed outside. Sitting on the balcony, glasses on, a light wind blowing. And he looks cute as all hell. 

He opens up the balcony door and sits by the man’s side. Again, he’s dealing with a blueprint, and that only causes some unusual feelings to stir inside Rasmus.  

“Come on, man…” He pouts, resting his head against Peter’s shoulder. 

He opts to kiss Rasmus’ head, laughing. “Whatever do you mean?” He bats his eyes, before turning back to the page at hand. 

The security guard lets silence fall upon them as they mingle like this, attached to the hip, as Peter’s eyes light up upon spotting particular things. 

He lets the silence run on… Or, at least, for a little while. 

It’s not long later that he’s had enough. At least, in his young, impulsive mind, he’s had enough. Peter is serious, determined, patient, and loving… He seems mature beyond his years, almost. 

But Rasmus has had enough. If the architectural engineer has to leave in a few days, he’ll milk all of this for what it’s worth. 

He leans into the brown-haired man, his head pressed against his neck before he laughs, starts leaving kisses all over. He deepens those kisses, just for a moment, feeling the blood rush through Peter’s body, before the engineer pulls away. 

He breathes in a sharp breath before exhaling slowly, filled with a pleasure that dawns upon him. A gentle sort of high. He hums noncommittally, but keeps his gaze on Rasmus. A silent signal for him to stay still. 

“Look, beloved, if you’re trying to compete, I should let you know that nothing turns me on like a blueprint, so..." 

The blond takes the hint, planting one last kiss against his neck before he sits upright, eyes sparkling. 

“Do me a favour, then, sweetheart. Show me the hot bits!” 

+1.

The Jackal huffs out a breath, staring out at the early morning sky. 

The crack of dawn. Today is the day. Off to the Kontserdisaal, going into hiding, leaving Rasmus all on his lonesome, and killing UDC– 

He’s never been this nervous for a hit before. 

After calculating everything to this moment, from his personas, passports, disguises, and masks, the nature of his true identity sinks right back into his mind. Into his bones.  

He is not Peter, the charming, playful architect. And he never will be again. 

It’s a scary thought, one that he won’t dare to admit. 

He shakes his head and shakes it off, at least, as much as he can manage. His eyes meet the blueprint, one last time, and he runs through his pointing routine: Start here, enter casually amongst the crowd, buy food and water, camp out, shoot above the glass that will protect UDC, and kill him…  

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears a shuffling from behind him, and he gasps for breath. 

“Geez, Rasmus. That scared me.” He’s not even lying through his teeth with that one. And he’s been through war. 

The blond laughs ever so softly, “Didn't mean it, never do.” He sighs, sitting down next to Peter. “What’s going on?” 

The hitman looks up at him, conviction ablaze in his eyes, “Today’s the day that everything comes to fruition.” 

“Right.” The security guard glances down at the blueprint, and shakes his head. In one swift movement, he folds up that blueprint and shoves it well aside. 

The Jackal’s expression widens, while Rasmus’ brows furrow. 

“No more of that.” He continues, gesturing to the page, “That thing that has been haunting you for days. You don’t need to look at it anymore, because you know it inside out. It’s just like you said, ‘everything happens today’, so… Go do your job, Peter.” 

Go do your job, Peter. 

The engineer nods resolutely and shuffles closer to Rasmus, cupping his face with both hands. 

“I will.” He then adds, almost in afterthought, “You have good man face, Rasmus.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Peter lets out a laugh, “You just… Radiate this kindness, and so naturally. There needs to be more of that in the world, but I’m so lucky to have found you.” 

The blond blinks, humming quietly as a blush rises to his face. For once, he doesn’t know what to say, or do. It feels like all his charm and sway with Peter has vanished into thin air. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter, because his lips are captured in a kiss as the brown-haired man leans forward. Bodies pressed together, only pulling away for air, and the embrace is full of depth, of meaning. 

It feels like a goodbye. 

Rasmus cards his hands through Peter’s hair, and Peter’s hold on his face ceases to relent.

They breathe, sitting there in stillness, and the hitman makes the next move. 

“Take care.” He breathes, planting one last kiss against his cheek, “If I never see you again–” 

“I’ll see you again, Peter. I know I will.” 

The Jackal slowly stands and helps the blond up too, as he moves over to his suitcase, packs it away, and takes the bare essentials out to the Kontserdisaal. 

Including his metal boot, which he puts on once he’s well out of Rasmus’ sight. 

[frankdelfino]

the way he looks at her is driving me insane… I can already tell this show is probably gonna kill him off and it’ll be the jackal that does it

no gifsets of bianca and vince is crazy… y’all are not seeing the vision

[imutrt]

Ep 7 spoilers

Poor guy just cant catch a damn break ( RIP Rasmus sir you and the Jackal lowkey had more chemistry than him and Nuria) pissing in a bottle thats real dedication right there😭

also can we talk about how good he looks in a military uniform?? Like Eddie's face just naturally feels kind of innocent and i think that contrasts really well with the stereotype of military men being hard and gruff in the entertainment industry.

[sleepynegress]

Watching Wicked and The Day of the Jackal on the same day = seeing The Jackal/Rasmus, Galinda/Elphaba parallels...

[hannibals-cheekbones]

Fully expecting our Jackal to kill Rasmus (no spoilers I'm behind!), but I hope he keeps him as his side piece lol. He's adorable.