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rhaenella · 1 year ago

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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 21

Part 20 | Part 22

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, smut

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: at the end.

Song: Sinnerman – Nina Simone

The loud buzzing of a phone roused you from your sleep. The first thing you noticed was how the sheets were comfortably tucked in around you, Rhys’ side of the bed regrettably empty and cold. He must have already gotten up before tucking you back in, likely downstairs having breakfast or sipping his signature morning coffee. He always desired a rather specific Italian blend in the morning, whereas you were more than happy with a nice, simple cuppa.

Your phone buzzed again and you rolled over, grabbing the device and sitting back against the headboard, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with a yawn.

It was still quite early. Meaning you didn’t get much sleep. Last night, after you and Rhys had returned to the Hintze Hall, it had taken a few more hours before you’d been allowed to leave. Security finding a dead man inside Attenborough Studio had definitely slowed things down a bit. But just as you’d expected, the police had found and apprehended the woman Fernsby was seen with earlier during the night, and had then swiftly cleared everyone else.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to take the back exit again, that part of the museum entirely sectioned off by the police. You had no other choice but to go through the front gates and face the press. When you exited the museum, you’d been almost blinded by a sea of photographers. It was your first real encounter with the British press—tabloids, journalists, everyone was there, and they’d roared at the sight of the two of you.

It had been… a lot. But Rhys had kept you close as you’d tried to make your way to the car, ignoring the deafening shouts for attention. Once you’d slid into the backseat of his town car, the driver had sped off and you’d let out a quiet sigh of relief, flashing Rhys a tense smile, “Can you imagine that made me more nervous than murdering someone?”

He’d looked at you apologetically, pulling you into his side, unable to have you anywhere but near him. Thankfully, you’d made it to his house without any more hiccups, Rhys squeezing your hand as he’d wordlessly guided you into the privacy of his home.

You pulled the sheets closer around your naked body, unlocking your phone.

234 unread messages.

You blinked. Jesus…

You quickly surmised that most, if not all of them, were about your public outing with Rhys last night. And that the majority of the texts were actually from the groupchat with your sisters.

You scrolled down the chat, chuckling at all of their hysterical messages. They ranged from a meticulous assessment of your dress to forwarding at least twelve articles detailing your exploits around the museum, to a discussion on how “fucking hot” it was that Rhys had loaned you his jacket at the end of the night. You snorted. Ofcourse they would get excited over that. Probably not over the reason why you had to wear his jacket, though. But they didn’t need to know about that.

Next, you opened Claire’s texts, which were quite similar to those of your sisters. Except she’d also decided to scold you on how you could have possibly gone out on this very public date without telling her about it beforehand.

Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on it either, Claire.

The three of them also commented on the death of Daniel Fernsby, asking whether you had seen or heard anything, although those few messages paled in comparison to their animated gossip on The Couple That Stole London’s Spotlight, according to The Sun.

Even though the press had finally figured out your identity, you didn’t feel that familiar spike in nerves at seeing so many articles and pictures of yourself just out there in the open. Perhaps it was because, as last night had demonstrated, you’d been able to carry out your job like always, unbeknownst to the public. In spite of them having followed you around like a hawk all night, you’d managed just fine. Ofcourse the storm had also helped to cover your tracks nicely.

But it was more than that. The photos of you and Rhys, standing together, overlooking the crowd… it looked exactly like the picture Rhys had so clearly painted all those weeks ago: It’s you and me. Standing side by side on top of the bloody world.

You smiled at the memory, a surge of feeling and power shooting through you. Rhys had been right. It didn’t just look like that, it felt like that as well. He’d produced such a clearcut image of how he envisioned his future, and so far he was on a straight course to realise it. Perhaps for the first time, you could say you actually shared that vision.

Soft music carried up the stairs, reminding you that this magnificent man was just down the stairs. It didn’t take much more than that to finally force yourself out of bed.

You put on your panties and found one of Rhys’ sweaters lying around, mindlessly throwing it on. It was his ultra-soft, maroon coloured sweater, decidedly way too big on you, the end barely skimming your mid-thigh.

You made your way downstairs, noting Rhys standing behind the stove upon entering the kitchen, busily scrambling some eggs. He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of simple pyjama bottoms. A true sight for sore eyes… He glanced up then, a pleased glimmer in his eye as it was his turn to appreciate your choice of clothing. Or lack thereof.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Good morning, indeed,” you replied, eyes sliding over his bare chest.

Rhys chuckled lightly, gesturing for you to take a seat on one of the bar stools. “Just in time for breakfast,” he said, turning off the stove.

You sat down, putting your phone on the counter. Rhys filled up two plates and set one in front of you, along with a steaming cup of tea.

“Hm, lucky me,” you smiled.

He easily returned it, pouring himself a second cup of coffee.

The whole scene felt entirely mundane. So… normal. A seemingly regular morning routine. As if you were just any other couple, having breakfast together before the long workday ahead. You grabbed a fork and knife, about to dig in before the radio’s seven-thirty news cycle bursted your little fantasy.

CEO of Fernsby’s Pharmaceuticals, Daniel Fernsby, was found dead at a Sotheby’s auction in the Natural History Museum in London last night. The Met police confirm Fernsby suffered a heart attack and died of natural causes. Even though Fernsby, 46, was in good shape and had up to date not shown any prior indications of heart disease, the Met are confident to rule out death under suspicious circumstances. “At this point we are inclined to close the investigation,” the force’s spokesperson added.

Next, Prime Minister Sunak has announced—

“You were right,” Rhys said, impressed, dipping down to kiss your forehead before taking a seat on the stool beside you. “They don’t suspect a bloody thing.”

You took a bite of your breakfast, hiding your smile. “Told you so.”

Rhys hummed in agreement, but gave a slight shrug. “Yes. But you might want to give some credit where it’s due.”

“Excuse me?”

At your raised brow, he elaborated further, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“I was the one that insisted you needed a date for this job.”

“Oh my god… Please don’t belittle your sense of humility for me,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Rhys grinned. “Am I wrong, though? Fernsby is barely a footnote in today’s news. But have you seen who are on the front page of every newspaper?” he asked, waving a hand between you. “The couple that stole London’s spotlight.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, I saw that… I believe my sisters sent me every single article out there.”

“I find the headline quite apropos, don’t you think? People are more focused on us than on the tragedy that transpired last night,” he went on, obviously trying to make a point.

You shook your head at him, but you knew deep down that he was right. It had been the perfect distraction. Not that you were ever going to admit that to his smug face.

Your phone buzzed for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning and you peered over your half-eaten breakfast to read the latest incoming text. Initially expecting it to be another from your sisters or Claire, you were a little surprised to see that it was from Ms. Edwards.

>>> Nicely done as always. And might I say, what a surprisingly splendid date you had. Good for you.

“Seems the boss is happy as well,” you said, showing Rhys the text.

“Ah,” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “And she agrees with my assessment.”

You shot him a look. “Would you stop?”

“I don’t think so, darling,” he beamed, holding up a finger. “You should always use the public’s opinion to your own advantage. Which actually brings me to a proposal I want to make you.”

“Oh?” you looked at him, skeptic. “And what might that be?”

Rhys pushed his plate and cup to the side before fully turning to you, clasping his hands together, suddenly all serious.

“I have a meeting at Comic Relief’s offices in Whitechapel this morning,” he said. “To discuss details on their fundraiser in two weeks, where I will be making an appearance. And I would like for you to join me.”

You studied him with a shrewd look before answering. “Because it makes you look good or because you actually want me to come with you?”

“It’s never a bad idea to remind people of the good we can do for this city.”

There it was again. That notion of we. But you weren’t so easily charmed, all too aware of the conversational tricks he used in politics on a day to day.

“That’s a non-answer, Rhys.”

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Right… Force of habit, I’m afraid.”

You looked at each other for a long moment before Rhys continued, correctly sensing that you needed more from him.

“Because I actually want you to come,” he answered, sincere.

It wasn’t the sympathy card he played to convince you to come with him this time. He meant it.

“You may not want to admit that last night was a strategic win for us, but you cannot deny how good we looked up there. It’s where we belong. Together.”

Standing side by side on top of the bloody world, your mind finished automatically for the second time that morning. You couldn’t help but feel yourself slowly getting swayed.

“You don’t need me to win these elections,” you countered, stubborn.

His hand found your thigh. He rubbed the exposed skin there, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“I know,” Rhys said. “But I want you by my side.”

The confession was simple but brutally honest, and it left you breathless.

He knew that he didn’t need anyone else. Yet, he chose you to share that stage with him, to share his dream. Opening the door to his soul and inviting you in after not allowing anyone else even a peek inside.

You leaned in without thinking about it, your lips grazing his with a smile.

“You and me, huh?” you asked, a slight uptake in your pulse.

Rhys pulled you to him, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to get it right. His arms were warm around you, and you relaxed into him, letting yourself get lost in the kiss and the feeling of his strong muscled chest beneath your fingertips.

“Yes,” he murmured against your lips. “For all of it.”

You don’t remember who deepened the kiss. But before you knew it, Rhys was backing you into the kitchen island, lifting you on top of it in one smooth motion. Not that you minded it. No, you revelled in the firm brush of mouths that instantly lit up nerve endings throughout your entire body.

His warm hands slipped underneath your—his—sweater, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you softly scratched the morning stubble he had yet to shave off. Rhys made a wanton sound, gripping your thighs before locking his lips with yours in another searing kiss.

You tangled your hands into his hair, pulling on his curled strands as you moved your hips eagerly against his own.

“Tell me a secret,” Rhys said in between kisses. “You’ve wanted to do this ever since your first night here, did you not?”

He was blatantly referring to the moment right after you’d allowed Rhys to see you—the real you. After you’d told him of your deepest and darkest fears and desires. Now, being in the exact same spot, hearing him repeat those words in a colossally different setting…

Well, fuck him.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realised you’d had a similar response at the time, linking him to improper thoughts. Rhys was impossible at times. And insatiable. But so were you.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

He chuckled, moving his hand higher and higher underneath the sweater you still wore, delicately brushing your pebbled nipple with his thumb. You bit your lip to bite back the moan threatening to escape, unconsciously leaning further into his touch.

Rhys smirked. “No. I definitely do not.”

You tried to ignore the feeling of his hands all over you, light fingertips dancing along your panty’s seam, confirming his suspicions at the wetness he found there.

Your eyes fluttered, inhaling shakily. “I’d say that’s more of a you-problem...”

Rhys smiled dangerously, his hand curling around your throat.

“Don’t tempt me,” he whispered, trailing his lips over the shell of your ear. “Do you remember the promise I made you?”

One day I will make you beg for it.

You shivered. How could you ever forget something you secretly longed for? Your nails dug into the bare skin of his biceps, feeling the slick between your thighs intensify. He was in control, and you gladly let him, loving his dominant side. But that didn’t mean you would make it easy for him.

“Try me,” you dared.

He instantly tightened his grip on your throat, forcing you to meet his eye. “Oh, I will.”

Rhys smiled at the hitch in your breath, anticipation curling low in your belly. There was no doubt he liked playing. Especially this little game with you. It was exciting, testing the waters, seeing how far either of you were willing to go.

But as quickly as your desire had escalated, as abruptly Rhys broke it up, stepping back.

You blinked, your arms falling limply to your side, neither of you moving. Rhys looked at you with a knowing smirk, your puffy lips and wild eyes betraying the lust coursing through you. Was he seriously…?

“Come with me today. Be an angel. And you’ll get your reward.”

And there was your answer.

You could only stare at him, chest heaving. The man was always working an angle. And such a tease. Apparently it didn’t matter that withholding you from your pleasure meant he would abstain from his own as well.

“Unbelievable…” you eventually murmured. “Why are you always trying to bribe me with an orgasm?”

His answering laugh rang through the air. “Because it’s a win-win situation,” he winked.

––

The meeting at Comic Relief turned out to be more than a just regular sit-down to discuss the logistics of the fundraiser. Rather, you and Rhys were led through the many corridors of the building, Rhys shaking nearly every employee’s hand before you were showed their exhibit on the charity’s many different projects throughout the years.

Luckily for you, no one seemed exceedingly taken by surprise about your presence. They either didn’t care or they were simply informed of it by Rhys’ team beforehand. The second option was as likely as the first. It wouldn’t be the first time for Rhys to prematurely assume your attendance alongside him.

“Red Nose Day is our annual fundraiser night, as you may know. It’s become somewhat of a tradition. Filled with challenges and performances, broadcasted on live television, all in the hopes of raising that extra bit of money for those living really tough lives,” your host Sarah explained, pointing to various photographs capturing the highlights of previous editions. “Here, in 2015, Dermet O’Leary took on a 24-hour dance challenge—he raised one million pounds! The same year, Stephen Hawking transformed into a super-size robot, attacking David Walliams on his tv show Little Britain. It was hilarious! Oh, and here—”

You were only half listening to Sarah who kept going on and on about the impressive history of Comic Relief’s work when you stopped in front of a picture of former Prime Minister Cameron, sporting one of the famous red noses. He was posing in front of number ten with a group of sick children, all broad smiles, holding a big cheque with that year’s raised amount.

Perhaps that could be Rhys in a couple of years…

Feeling his presence beside you, you didn’t need to look at him to know he’d had the same thought as you. Rhys hadn’t told you explicitly that Downing Street was his goal, but it’d become quite obvious to you in recent weeks. There was simply no way that his far-reaching ambitions would stop after becoming mayor of London.

And you had no doubt that he would win these elections. Nothing and no one was in his way to stop him. Not even his rival Atkinson, the one who had initially conspired with Lockwood to take Rhys out. He’d failed. And now Atkinson wasn’t just behind in the polls, he also had to deal with Rhys being fully aware of his willingness to resort to less ethical ways of getting what he wanted. He no longer had the advantage of a surprise attack. Or really the possibility of any attack with so much media attention centred around both of them.

Thus, it was one-nil. In Rhys’ favour.

“Do you know how much money was raised at last year’s Red Nose Day?”

Sarah’s question shook you out of those thoughts, and you glanced at her with a blank expression. No, you didn’t. But ofcourse Rhys did.

“42 million pounds.”

“42,790,147 pounds actually,” Sarah corrected, proud.

“Ah, even better,” Rhys smiled, leaning towards her. “Let’s try and double it this year, shall we?”

Sarah seemed a professional. But even so, the flirtatious lilt in her answering smile was obvious. It was a little too friendly as she was surely unable to resist Rhys’ natural charm. You bit the inside of your cheek, amused, when she nodded curtly and cleared her throat before finishing the remainder of her tour.

You left the exhibition behind, and Sarah guided you through another long corridor, lined with doors upon doors leading to many different offices and boardrooms. Sadly, she still wouldn’t cease her never-ending rambling.

“This is our 38th consecutive year,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “Ofcourse Richard Curtis, Comic Relief’s co-founder, will be there, as well as many other celebrities. We’ve a couple of great live performances lined up. Have you received our playbook for the night, yet? The BBC was supposed to send it over.”

“Yes,” Rhys affirmed. “I was notified that David Tennant would introduce me on stage.”

“That’s correct. After his introduction you’ll have five minutes to give your speech,” Sarah explained. “I have to inform you that the time slots are very strict, so if your speech lasts any longer than those five minutes, they’ll cut you off. I’m telling you now, because last year the same thing happened to Idris Elba, and he was not prepared for it. The stage director literally cut his mic and turned off the lights. Wouldn’t want the same thing happening to you.”

“Understood,” Rhys said, ever patient.

“Wonderful,” she said, turning to the both of you as you neared the lifts that would take you back down to the lobby. Finally.

“Then that will be all for today. Unless you have any more questions…?”

“No, I think you covered all of it,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sarah didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Great! I will make sure that if there’s any changes in schedule, your office will be apprised ASAP.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

She shook both your hands, her eyes not so subtly lingering on Rhys as the lift doors closed in front of you.

“Jesus,” you groaned, once the lift started moving. “I thought she would never stop talking.”

Rhys laughed. “Me neither. But on the bright side, I’ve acquired plenty of facts to write a good speech.”

“Did you seriously catch all of that? Because I may have nodded off a few times.”

He hummed, looking to you with a wry smile. “It’s part of the job.”

“Right…”

Ever patient, indeed. You definitely lacked that skill in situations such as these. Stalking your target, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike on the other hand… Not an issue.

“So, what’s next on the schedule?”

“I was supposed to go back to the office,” he muttered, glancing at his watch. “But it seems we’re already nearing lunchtime.”

“Wonder whose fault that is,” you said, dry.

Rhys let out another laugh. “Come now, let’s make the best of it. Fancy some fish and chips?”

You tilted your head at him. “You wanna go on a lunch date… at the chippy…?”

“Why not? We’re commoners, aren’t we?” he shot back, not at all trying to disguise his smirk.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “We’re very normal people, indeed.”

The lift dinged, indicating you had reached the ground floor. When the doors opened, you followed Rhys into the lobby to where his team was waiting. His campaign manager, Lukas, quickly got up when he saw you, turning to Rhys with a slightly nervous look.

“What is it?” Rhys asked, alarmed, all playfulness gone.

“Press caught wind of your meeting somehow,” Lukas gestured towards the window. “They’re all here. BBC, Guardian, Telegraph, South London, Sun, Daily Mail, etcetera, etcetera…”

You squinted through the tall, partially blinded, windows. There was a mob of at least thirty stationed outside the entrance, waiting for Rhys to emerge from inside. Rhys had warned you beforehand that there might be some photographers present, “Half a dozen, at most,” he’d said. But this far exceeded that. Your stomach turned a little, thinking back to last night’s hectic escape.

“Damnit,” Rhys sighed. “Can’t say that I’m surprised, though. They can figure out everything these days.”

Nervous or not, you bit back a smile. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you. Although none of his people seemed to catch on. They spent so much time with Rhys, working for him, following his orders, yet no one had been able to work out their boss’ extracurricular activities.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Montrose. I don’t know how it happened…”

“It’s not your fault, Luke,” Rhys reassured his tense head of staff.

He was probably under a lot of pressure, trying to make sure the campaign ran smoothly, eliminating unwanted surprises such as this as much as possible.

“I just checked with the front desk, there’s an underground parking garage,” Reggie said, walking up to Rhys. “We can bring the car down and leave unnoticed.”

Rhys nodded to his head of security, but he didn’t seem convinced. You could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options. He wasn’t usually the type to leave around back to avoid the press at all cost. When you arrived at the museum last night, taking the back entrance, you knew that was solely to accommodate you. But you also knew he couldn’t keep doing that. Besides, you would never ask that of him.

You’d decided to stick by him, and that ultimately included facing the vultures as well.

He looked at you, reading all of those thoughts in your eyes. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he sent you a grateful look before addressing his team once more.

“No, we’ll take the main exit,” Rhys decided. “They know we’re here, and the news will only be negatively influenced if I sneak out the back and choose to not answer their questions. We cannot afford a sliver of bad publicity.”

Lukas nodded along to his boss’ decision, rummaging in his bag to find his phone. “Okay, I’ll call Cynthia to—”

“That’ll take too long,” Rhys interrupted. “I’ll manage without her.”

“But… She handles press… She needs to know about this,” Lukas stammered. “We need to know if there’s anything to know before you go out and—”

“Lukas, I said I’ll manage it. You can inform Cynthia later, or during. This won’t take long,” Rhys said, his tone final.

Lukas pressed his lips together, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now,” Rhys turned to Reggie. “I want you to keep Y/N away from them. Wait by the car.”

“Yes, sir,” Reggie parroted.

And with that, his team set to work, grabbing all of their things, preparing to go out there.

Rhys straightened his tie. “How do I look?”

“Mayor-worthy,” you smiled.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Rhys pecked your lips before you were pulled apart and ushered outside by his team. As soon as the automated doors opened, the mob turned around, cameras and microphones held at the ready. Reggie successfully kept you to the side and out of their claws as Rhys walked up to the press, calmly facing them as the first questions were fired at him.

“Mr. Montrose—”

“Over here please!”

“Sir! Is it true what Mr. Atkinson implied at—”

“How will you participate in this year’s Red Nose Day?”

“—respond to Daniel Fernsby’s untimely passing last night?”

Rhys raised a hand, silencing all of them at once.

“Let’s do this one at a time, yes?” he suggested with a laugh, immediately controlling the mob as they quieted down and consented to his proposal. He tipped his head to one of the reporters. “Sandy, I’ll start with your question, since we’re standing in front of Comic Relief’s London office.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montrose. My question was: what role will you play in this year’s Red Nose Day?”

“I hate to disappoint you, but it won’t be any singing or dancing,” he quipped, gaining a few chuckles from the crowd. “No, but all jokes aside, Comic Relief approached me a while back to make a speech at their fundraiser. Mainly because we are fighting for the same cause.”

“Which is?” Sandy asked.

“To help support those who are struggling with the current cost-of-living crisis. Which, contrary to popular belief, is no longer a working class problem, but is now also affecting the middle classes as well.”

The next question came from a young man holding a BBC mic. “Doesn’t your rival Marcus Atkinson share that opinion also?”

Rhys shook his head. “We don’t see eye to eye on how to effectively tackle the many issues such as homelessness, mental health problems, and food poverty… The last showing a worrying increase among children. But I suppose we’ll have to wait until our next debate to find out for sure.”

He continued answering their questions with ease, carefully dodging the reporter that had shouted a question about Fernsby early on. It went smoothly, one question at a time, just as Rhys had demanded—until a wave of incoming calls and texts disturbed the impromptu press interview.

Silence befell the crowd as everyone picked up their phone, eyes gradually widening at the messages they’d received. Shocked whispers started to fill the silence, but no one dared to speak up yet, most frantically tapping away on their phones. You frowned at the journalists, one of them firmly instructing his camera guy to keep rolling.

All the while, Rhys stood at the forefront, masking his puzzled expression from the cameras. But to you, it was evident he had no clue what was happening either.

Rhys waited for the press to regroup, exercising that commemorable patience once more. Your gazes briefly locked, and you were able to read the silent question in his eyes as well as he’d read you minutes before: what on earth was going on?

“Fuck,” Lukas grumbled from where he stood beside you, scrolling through his phone. “We should’ve waited for Cynthia…”

Your frown deepened, trying to read the tiny letters of the news article on his phone. “Why? What happened?”

Lukas moved to open his mouth but he was cut off by a booming question from one of the reporters.

“Mr. Montrose would you care to comment on the latest breaking news?”

Rhys wasn’t put off by any of this in the slightest, and simply inclined his head with a smile. “If you’ll be so kind as to inform me of what that news is, then ofcourse.”

The moment those words left his lips, a frenzy ensued. Microphones and recorders were shoved into his face, cameramen fighting for the best angle to capture Rhys’ reaction to whatever news had just surfaced. It wasn’t any news, that much was clear. The same reporter confirmed it not even a second later with an answering statement that made your heart jump in your chest.

“The disappearance of Tom Lockwood, sir.”

––––

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this peaceful little chapter because shit is about to hit the fan…

––

Tags: @artaxerxesthegreat

#rhys montrose x reader #rhys montrose x female reader #rhys montrose fanfic #rhys montrose fic #rhys montrose #you netflix #you season 4 #you season 4 canon divergence #jonathan moore #joe goldberg #goldrose #ed speleers #rhys montrose x original female character #on ao3 #you and me

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batnbreakfast · 10 months ago

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@kindworldsword asked me what I'd recommend for someone visiting London for the first time.

This has gotten quite long, so I'm putting everything under a break. Nevertheless I've likely have forgotten something I love doing while in London.**

Honestly though, most of the times I just walk around the city, go to the theatre, and eat lots of food, so the most important recommendation is: Take a good pair of shoes and an appetite. (If you would like restaurant recommendations, message me.)

Have a great time!

Things to do in and around London

Take a walk along the river

This is my go-to walk. I do this when I'm back in the city. I do this when I'm stressed out and need to clear my head. I do this when I've got some time left before leaving.

Start at Embankment, cross the river on the right bridge to get a view of the House of Parliament and the London Eye. Continue to walk eastwards along the river - you'll see quite a few famous landmarks like the National Theater*, the Tate Modern, the Globe Theatre. Take a break at the Tate (the perks of free entry) and have a look at the Rothko room or join a free guided tour. Continue along the river - you can take a detour along Borough's Market for food and drink or skip that part and just walk until you're at Tower Bridge. Is it a touristy spot? Yes, it sure is. It's also a great spot for some people watching and catching a bit of sun sitting on the lawn in front of Bridge Theatre.

*National Theatre

There's a viewing gallery at the Dorfman Theatre, so if you're around there before their matinee show: Go along the left side of the building, walk past the stage door, up to the Dorfman entrance. The indoor walkway will take you past the costume designer's working space - which is well worth the detour.

Book a free ticket for the Horizon22

Not as touristy as the Shard or Sky Gardens, and even better: It's free. The Horizon has the highest viewing platform in the city right now and you'll have a spectacular view of the city. Most people working there are up for a chat about the view and really knowledgeable. It's near Liverpool Station and you can also try and book a ticket via QR Code at the entrance door.

Buy a theatre ticket

Go online or visit the TKTS boot at Leicester Square. If you're lucky you can get fringe theatre tickets or seats further back in the more famous theatres for little money. The Globe theatre offers standing room tickets for 5 GBP. If a play is sold out lots of theatres offer last minute tickets in the morning, but you might have to queue. (Cate Blanchett's play came with queueing from 3am until they opened at 9am.) You can message me about theatre recommendations during your stay if you like.

Covent Garden

While I don't care for the actual shops in the market building, I like watching the buskers in front of St. Paul's. If you need a break from all the hustle and bustle, take a side entrance to the church yard on Henrietta or King Street. The actor's church offers free lunch concerts and benches to sit out in the sun. There's a church cat - wouldn't recommend trying to pet him though.

Walk along the small courts and yards north-west of Covent Garden. Find the house were the Phytons lived together on Neals Yard and the Bambi Mary Poppins stencil.

Museums

Yes! Most of them are free and there's plenty of them. I love the Wallace Collection, I'd recommend the National Gallery, I already mentioned Tate Modern, and of course there's the V&A (soooooooo good), the National History Museum, the Wellcome Collection, the British Museum, the Museum of Home, the...

I often sit on the stairs of Hintze Hall at the National History Museum next to Hope their whale skeleton. I love the ceramics at the V&A. I have three favourite paintings at the National Gallery. Often you can take part in a free tour, and if you don't want to spend a whole day at a museum: Don't. Just pop in, have a look around, and go your merry way.

Thames walk towards Rotherhite:

Start at the Tower Bridge and just follow the walking way along the river. At one point you'll have to take a detour around a huge industrial estate, but you'll be able to return to the river quickly. Time your walk to have either lunch or dinner at The Mayflower in Rotherhite - one of the oldest existing river pubs with excellent pies & mash and a superb sticky toffee pudding. Take the underground train to the other side of the river or a bus back to London Bridge.

Richmond

Go to Richmond (by train from Waterloo Station) and walk along the little streets south of the Green. The Sandman and Ted Lasso have been filmed here (among others), so if you watched either one of these shows, you'll recognise the area. You can go down to the river and then either walk or take an ebike to Kew Bridge.

Trafalgar Square/Chinatown/Soho

Go, sit on the edge of one of the Trafalgar Square fountains. Watch people from all over the world, hear the buskers in front of the National Gallery. If you need food, Chinatown isn't far away (Cafe TPT or Misato are my go to places) or you could go for cake & tea in the crypt of St Martin-in-the-Fields. Walk along the streets in Chinatown, cross over to Soho, walk along there. If you need coffee, go into the Algerian Coffee Shop on Old Compton Street, they are doing a great espresso. London's only queer women's club She Soho is also on Old Compton Street.

Markets

Are they touristy? Sure, but I love them. Portobello Road on Saturdays and Brick Lane on Sundays are my favourites. I don't care about Columbia Road too much, because it's always way too busy.

Street Art around Brick Lane

Go and have a look around Brick Lane if you like street art. Walk around the area and explore, there's always something new to see. Look out for broccoli and eggs.

Book a London Walk

The original London Walk company has already been around when I first came to the city around 1990. They offer a wide range of walks - I can recommend their street art tours in Whitechapel or their ghosts walk. If you do an evening tour, the walk will likely end up in a pub, so you can have a drink with the other attendees.

Walk along the canals

You can walk either from Paddington or King's Cross to Camden - you'll see a lot of houseboats, the London Zoo, and end up in Camden, where you'll have plenty of food stalls available. I feel like Camden Market as such is a bit overrated these days.

Barbican & Barbican Conservatory:

If you like Brutalism and history, this is the place to be. You can see remains of the London Wall, sit by the artificial ponds, and visit he botanical gardens. It looks like something straight out of a end-of-the-world film with huge plants covering concrete. You might have to book a ticket, even though it's free. It only opens on Friday & Sunday as far as I remember.

And if you need a break from London:

Take a day trip to Brighton

I just love the city. If you like to be by the sea - the train from London Bridge only takes about 90 minutes. Walk along the Northern Lain area for lots of lovely shops, great food, and drinks. Go visit the pier and eat some donuts. Watch the sea. Visit the Royal Pavillion.

#** i also love meeting friends while in london #which is something I'm very happy about - it's just a bit difficult to recommend #it’s a bat’s life #back back back back back #kind of #thanks for reminding me that I hadn't answered yet!

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