#buckle the hell up

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 1

Masterlist | Part 2

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 1.4k

A/N at the end.

Song: Royals – Lorde 

Montrose, R. 

The name of your next victim was written in elegant cursive handwriting on a small business card. Your employer had given it to you along with an envelope filled with your payment for the previous job you had just completed. 

The name seemed familiar to you. You briefly glanced up at your employer as you slipped out your phone to quickly look up the name he had provided you with. 

You typed in the name Montrose and within nanoseconds after you hit search, the app showed you thousands of hits on the name. Newspaper articles, clips of talk show appearances, book reviews, both positive and hate tweets (although the former outweighed the latter), and of course many, many pictures of the man. You recognised him instantly.

You raised a single eyebrow inquisitively, once more glancing at your employer. 

“I’m aware that it’s high-profile.”

You scoffed as you scrolled through the many articles. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Your employer cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Can you do it or not?”

“Of course,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Good.”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

You hummed, locking your phone and placing it in your back pocket. Your employer diverted his eyes, looking nervous? No — stressed — your mind supplied. You smirked inwardly. The man was desperate for this job. 

You’ve done work for him before. Six times, in fact. Two of which had been abroad, including the one you just completed. Your flight back from Toronto had landed just a couple of hours ago. And now here you were once more.

The man had resources and was rich beyond words. He had power. Lots of it. Which incontrovertibly led to him having many enemies. Enemies that he needed to get rid of. Quietly. That’s where you came in. 

But something was different this time. Your employer seemed off, more desperate than you’d ever seen him. Before he was always perfectly in control, never blinking an eye as he provided you with your next assignment or payment. The man was perhaps even more cold blooded than you. And that’s saying something. Nevertheless, he would never get his own hands dirty. 

Your nostrils flared, having had enough of his stalling. 

“Out with it, what is it?” You demanded.

Your employer glanced around before his gaze fixed on an old desk next to a broken window that had been boarded up. He kicked back a broken chair laying askew on the wood-rotten floor. He always preferred to meet in inconspicuous places. And if you might add, downright shitholes. 

He sighed as he cautiously leaned back against the desk, looking back over his shoulder to make sure it would support his weight. He definitely wasn’t overweight. But you were certain that even the weight of a feather could make the desk collapse in on itself. Surprisingly, the desk remained standing after it gave a slight squeaky noise. 

“I need it done within 48 hours.”

You couldn’t stop the bark of a laugh from escaping. The man had gone officially bloody nuts. Who the hell did he think he was? The king of England? In all honesty, he might actually wield more power than the king himself. But all of that was beside the point. 

“48 hours,” you snickered, shaking your head at his ridicule. 

“I know, I know,” he amended. “But I wouldn’t ask this of you if the situation hadn’t been this dire.” 

“Dire or not, the man is currently number one trending on social media. He’s a beloved politician, likely preparing his campaign to become mayor of one of the biggest cities in the world. And you think I can make him disappear without a trace within 48 hours?”

“Yes,” your employer replied. 

If the man and his ideas weren’t as delusional as the present situation would suggest, you would actually take quite a bit of pride in that simple statement. 

“It’s not simply a matter of the public eye. He must have well established security. I need time to figure those details out as well as his schedule.” 

You took a few steps closer, stopping a couple of feet away from your employer. 

“I can get it done, but I need time.”

“I don’t have time,” he all but shouted at you as he got up angrily, his attitude changing rapidly. The man was known for his temper, but you hadn’t witnessed it yourself yet. His control was really severely lacking today. 

“Which means you don’t have time,” he growled. 

The space between you reduced to mere inches but you held your ground. You weren’t afraid of some rich businessman who wasn’t used to being told no. 

You chuckled softly, making his eyes narrow to mere slits. 

“See, the funny thing is. I don’t need to do a thing. I don’t have to accept your ridiculous job offer.” 

A smirk grew on his face and he retreated a few steps. “Oh? But you haven’t heard the full offer yet.” 

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes. Truly, who the hell did he think he was, playing with you like this? You briefly contemplated killing him on the spot, but really you couldn’t be bothered. 

“I am offering you three times your regular fee.”

Now this — this — made you stop right in your tracks. Yep, it was confirmed. The man was definitely delusional. 

It may have been a cheap trick. Typically the rich social elite — buying their way through life. But damned be all if it wasn’t effective. 

Your employer knew nothing about you, except how to contact you. To give you the time and place for your clandestine meetings. Which means he also didn’t know anything about your personal life and your financial situation. In your line of work, you liked to keep it that way.  

Truth is, you weren’t poor and you weren’t rich. But you needed the money your unorthodox job provided you with. It wasn’t about becoming rich yourself. It wasn’t about gaining status or anything like that. No, the money went straight to your sisters. 

You had two younger sisters who still lived with your mother, a raging and highly unstable alcoholic. You often debated whether to take full custody of your sisters and have them live with you, but you also knew your job came with certain risks and you didn’t want to jeopardise their safety. 

You tried to take as much care of them as you could from the sidelines. Especially since no one else fought for them. Definitely not your father because he had left years ago, claiming he could no longer cope with your mother’s issues. Hell, like you all could?

Your youngest sister, Sadie, had fallen ill two years ago. Mainstream medicine had failed her, so you were now paying for her exclusive medical trials. The good thing was, they were working. Your sister’s health was improving, but she was still nowhere near healthy and being fully cleared by the doctors. She probably never would be as she suffered a rare chronic disease. 

But she was going to school again now. A private school to be exact, same as your other sister, Zoe, who was currently acing her first year at the prestigious Darcy College. You were so proud of both of them, but with the medical bills and their education, you needed the money. 

Which is why your employer’s offer made both your skin crawl but also your heart clench. You needed it. Maybe just as much as he needed this Montrose guy killed. 

You glanced down at your left hand, your sisters’ initials that you had tattooed on your wrist serving as a powerful reminder of what you inevitably had to agree to. A possible suicide mission. Because how were you going to pull this high-profile kill off without being able to actually device a plan in advance? Without getting caught.

And yet you found yourself accepting his offer. 

“Okay.” 

Your employer didn’t look surprised, seemingly confident that money could indeed buy anything. Or anyone. He had been completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. Probably because of your very well practiced poker face that you never let slip. 

“I will do it,” you said. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“Like I said earlier, this is gonna cost you. Not just three, I want five times my regular fee. Take it or leave it.”

He seemed exceptionally pleased with himself as an unsettling smile creeped onto his face. 

“You have a deal.”

Fuck the rich, you thought as you bitterly shook his hand.

–––– 

A/N: sooo this is the first (kinda short, introductory) part of this Rhys x reader fic. The next parts will be longer, don’t worry! Although I’m very busy with work, I will try to stick to my regular posting schedule (Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays) as much as I can. Know that the next few parts have already been drafted and are almost ready to be published :) And boy, it’s going to be a ride. Thank you for reading!!!! 

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story

[theresonly1u]

There's Only One You 2024: a sports rpf short fanworks prompt meme is live!

262 fanworks in 12 different sports rpf fandoms. Check out the works and the fandoms and grab a cup of coffee 'cause it's just banger after banger across fandoms!

Thank you everyone for your hard work in making this another wonderful year! It is a joy to do this with you again. Your enthusiasm and joie de vivre make all the logistical stuff worthwhile.

Creators - make sure you update the posting date on your works to today so it appears at the top of the tag, especially if you posted weeks ago! Your names will be revealed on Monday, April 8 between 9am-10am pt (unless your work is also in anonymous collection.)

Everyone - if you enjoyed a work, slam that kudos button and leave a comment! Short works do not get nearly enough attention in fandom and these creators worked hard - let them know what you loved about their work! And I'll emphasize that doubly for the podficcers, artists, and fanmixers here, because those are also creators that don't see a lot of praise even beyond short fics. tl;dr: kudos + comment if you liked it!

Thank you all!! Settle in for a good weekend because we've got a lot to enjoy here 🌞

[quipxotic]

Okay this is the beginning of what I suspect will be many thoughts about c3e83. Spoilers below as always.

Having just rewatched this part of the episode, "The Disagreement" was far less of a disagreement than fandom is trying to make it out to be. It starts with Imogen and Orym misunderstanding each other. Orym misinterprets Imogen's "Ya'll I don't know if I'd be able to fight that again" as meaning she wants to run away from the fight all together and so he pushes her to keep going. Imogen misinterprets Orym's "...and you're our best shot of getting close and understanding" as him saying he wants her to reach out again to Predathos right then (she even says as much). Laudna immediately adopts Imogen's interpretation of what Orym said and reacts by saying Imogen doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to, which Orym misinterprets as her saying Imogen (and the others) don't have to continue the fight.

But then they talk it out - Imogen sharing her perspective and Orym clarifying his intent until they're both able to get back on the same page and move on (wouldn't it be great if the fandom displayed a similar capacity).

It was such an interesting exchange that may have big character or story implications later. But what it wasn't was a huge falling out, or a display of ill intent on anyone's behalf.

[reduxulousoctopus]

I have decided that this is the in-universe reason why Wolverine doesn't smoke in X-Men TAS/97.

[alvojake]

You guys have absolutely no clue how excited I am to finish this 🤭 like this will be my longest fic to date and it's filled with quite a bit of ✨spiciness ✨

I didn't add any warnings yet because I don't want to spoil anything quite yet 🫣 but I have one or two more section(s) to write and I'm aiming to be done by Saturday!

The taglist is still open so just shoot me a comment/ask/dm to be added!!

[ruthlesslistener]

Messing around with any ships involving PK or his kids is so fucking funny bc if you somehow end up courting either him or his kin its always a double edged sword bc on one hand they will charm you with their genuine yet emotionally constipated autistic swag but on the other hand. the horrors.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hold on ok i belted out a brief laughingstock Scene for possible future use that i Had to write down bc if i didn't, i'd never remember it. and why not share?

~

“Barnaby? Barnaby, old chap, are you with me?” 

Barnaby blinks, registering the green fingers snapping in front of his nose. He huffs a laugh and pushes Howdy’s hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. You were saying?”

Howdy gives him an exasperated look, a fond look. “Thinking about running off to a farm again, were you?”

“Nah, just the clouds. They’re a lot less work.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t. Who would I talk to during the long hours if you went and floated off?” Howdy winks before turning to his shelves, already yammering away about something or other.

Something or other that Barnaby is once again not listening to, because what was that? Barnaby quickly presses his cool paw-pads to his burning cheeks, feeling the bristling fur there. 

Has Howdy ever winked at him? Now that he’s noticed it, Barnaby can’t recall. If it’s new, then why? Why a wink of all things? What did that mean? And that look Howdy gave him… 

Barnaby adjusts his abruptly too-tight tie. It’s unusually warm in the store, isn’t it? Howdy must have forgotten to turn on the AC. 

Gosh, what is Howdy even saying? He’s still talking, but Barnaby hasn’t absorbed a word. He can’t even tell if Howdy is still speaking english. It’s all garbled.

There’s something wrong with Barnaby. He must be coming down with something… or he’s just overthinking it. Overworking the ol’ noggin. A good long nap should set him right. 

“Listen,” Barnaby interrupts, patting the counter, “I uh, I don’t know where my head’s at. I better go find it - I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Oh… alright, then,” Howdy says, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. 

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Barnaby slaps that thought out of the park. He doesn’t want Howdy to be disappointed, that’s absurd. That’s something a bad friend would think. Barnaby may be many things, but a bad friend isn’t one of them.

“I’ll whip up a joke that’ll knock your socks off next time I see ya,” Barnaby promises. He smiles around the discomfort and the entirely new feeling squirming around each other in his chest. 

“Now you’ve gone and brought up my expectations,” Howdy says. He leans on the counter and grins. “Are you sure you can back up such a claim, Mr. Beagle?”

Another hot flush races under Barnaby’s fur, and to his growing mortification, his tail starts wagging at breakneck speed. He lets out an uncharacteristically nervous laugh and backs away from the counter. To both of their horror, his back hits a shelf, making it rattle and tip.

“Oh, sh-” Barnaby lunges to right it before it can topple. He whips around and laughs again. Howdy’s wide-eyed stare burns. “Sorry ‘bout that! Talk about a bulldog in a bugshop, geez.”

“When you find your head, make sure to screw it on nice and tight,” Howdy says, a strange look on his face to match his tone. “And check your temperature while you’re at it - it’s not like you to be off-balance.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m off-balance,” Barnaby says. He inches towards the door, willing his stupid tail to calm down. “I just have ears instead of rearview mirrors.”

“Uh-huh…” Howdy slides to the side, trying to peer around him. 

Barnaby fumbles for the door. The scrape and bang of his search for the handle echoes in the quiet store. One of Howdy’s eyebrows creeps higher the longer Barnaby stands there, making a complete fool of himself. 

Finally, the door clicks, and Barnaby nearly tumbles over backwards in his haste to get out. He stumbles down the steps and briskly walks away, adjusting his hat and tie. As soon as he’s out of sight, he slaps his paws to his face and sags against the bodega.

“Idiot,” he hisses to himself. He presses his back flat against the wall and slams the side of his fist against it. Normally, Barnaby would use a situation like this to his advantage. But Howdy wasn’t laughing, and Barnaby wasn’t being funny. “Bulldog in a - gah, idiot!”

Great. Now Howdy thinks he’s not only a clumsy oaf, but that he’s losing his touch too.

Barnaby growls in frustration, pushing off the wall and stomping away from the plaza on all fours. What does he care what Howdy thinks of him? Others’ opinions of Barnaby have never been anywhere near his list of top priorities - barring Wally’s, of course. If they were, he'd never tell another joke again.

Yes, Howdy is a good friend of Barnaby’s. A close friend, even. But since when has he had such a - such an effect? Barnaby shakes his head, growling again. 

There was no effect. Barnaby is just going insane. Or he’s getting sick, like Howdy implied. That would explain the sudden hot flash, the loss of typically impeccable coordination, and, oh yeah! Barnaby’s brain leaking out of his ears.  

[necrotic-nephilim]

necrotic Omega Dick Week masterlist

by some miracle, and with a collective word count of 52k words, i finished Omega Dick Week 2024 and if you'd like to binge everything i wrote for it, here's the masterlist! as always, check the tags and warnings.

if you taste me it might just make you hungry (and force you to eat me): Reverse Robin | First Heat (DickTim)

right back home to you baby: Claiming/Submission Bite (BruDick)

it's a mean bright light: Forced Bond (DickTiger)

baby you can bite me if you like that (i wouldn't fight that): Protective Instincts (BruDick)

so bittersweet, the art of survival: Hidden Designation | Heat During A Mission (DickHelena)

i'm at your service // curing my stage fright (killing me slowly): Bitching (SlaDick)

baby taste this, while i show off: Free Day (DamiDick)

[tangledbean]

I just realized that the Ludinus situation could have been much much worse. I mean we all know it was bad, and we don’t really know just how bad it is yet but it could have been worse.

Imagine if Ludinus had seen Ashton rage.

Imagine if beacon loving obsessive Ludinus Da’Leth had seen someone who uses dunamancy the way Ashton does.

I think there would have been a lot more damage than the team just being separated.

[v01dw4tch3r]

pov. this server on the fourth.

[aceofsages]

wrap your teeth around the world

"You were named for a Queen and your blood sings with the ache for power." [Or: Aemma Velaryon's birth is a mistake. Everything that follows is not.]

finally posting that hotd fic i've been banging on about.

[yaz-the-spaz]

just came on to say teardrops is a whole bop and everyone should go stream it and also i'm already completely head over heels in love with 'what i am' even though z only released like 20 seconds of it to the interwebs so far lol

[quipxotic]

That was fun.

I will go to sleep in hope that I will not wake up to a million posts shitting on any characters or their players (or the fans of either one). Come on folks, nuanced and non-overreacting takes, I know we can do it if we try.

[lalalagirl7]

<33

[joshsindigostreak]

That feel when the obvious choice for the subtitle to the last chapter of your fic makes itself known to you and it'll send everyone into orbit.

Only a few more chapters left of I See Hell in Your Eyes