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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 18

Part 17 | Part 19

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: 5.3k

A/N: at the end.

Song: Don’t You Know – Jaymes Young

A web of dark, menacing clouds drifted over London in the distance, a strong breeze slowly picking up. The air was still warm and humid thanks to the minor heat wave that had hit Southern England in the past two weeks. But as always, those warmer days would eventually conclude with a typical summer’s storm.

You were on your way home from lunch with Claire, having only a couple more hours to get ready for tonight’s pretentious event where you would bring one of its guests to their demise.

With a slight hurry to your steps in an attempt to try to beat the oncoming rain, you turned the corner into your street, taking out your keys as you walked up to the entrance of your building. You glanced back twice at a sleek, black town car parked on the opposite side of the street, a driver waiting patiently in the front. Frowning and feeling a little suspicious, you turned the lock and entered your building.

The stairs squeaked loudly as you climbed them up to the third floor of your flat. You immediately noticed that your front door was opened and you quietly made your way towards it, already guessing who it must be that had rather rudely broken into your flat.

“Are you aware that breaking and entering can land you in the nick?” You asked, promptly closing your front door behind you.

Rhys didn’t look startled at your sudden entrance, lounging comfortably on your couch as he’d likely heard you making your way up the old and noisy stairs. He closed the work of fiction he’d been reading as he’d awaited your arrival. Your gaze zeroed in on the novel he’d picked out from your own bookcase, Normal People.

“Hello to you, too, darling,” Rhys smiled cheerfully.

You dropped your purse to the kitchen table with a sigh, raising a single, sceptical eyebrow at him.

“One of the perks of growing up on a council estate,” Rhys shrugged. “You know how to pick a lock.”

“Well, good for you. Next time, please just wait until I give you the bloody key, will you?”

Rhys inclined his head, softly laughing at your mild annoyance. He put down the book on the coffee table before casually adjusting his cufflinks, directing your attention to the immaculate outfit he was wearing. A simple but elegant, black suit and tie with his shoes polished to a shine. Rhys always dressed well, but this was quite an extravagant choice for a simple Thursday night.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Rhys grinned, standing up from his spot on your couch to slowly walk towards you, understanding hitting you at once.

“Oh, no,” you shook your head.

“Oh, yes.”

For fuck’s sake.

“No, absolutely not. You’re not coming with me tonight, Rhys,” you stated, your tone final.

You’d informed Rhys on your plan to attend the Sotheby’s event tonight — or the broad lines of it at least — over the phone the day before yesterday, not realising he would take that as an invitation to jovially tag along.

Rhys simply looked at you in amusement as he stood in front of you. “Why are you so opposed to the idea? I think it’ll be great fun, don’t you?”

You scoffed, meeting his eye.

“Great fun? Rhys, you draw too much attention to yourself. All eyes would be on us,” you explained. “And by the way, how were you planning to get an invite on such short notice?”

Rhys obviously didn’t seem half as concerned with any of your objections as you were, an air of indifference hanging around him.

“First of all, you clearly underestimate me if you think I won’t be able to finagle an invite to Sotheby’s by myself,” Rhys started, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt at your low confidence.

“Second, all eyes will be on us soon, anyway. We can’t keep hiding from the media forever. Might as well beat them to the punch.”

You felt a slight nervous jitter run through you at the thought of the media and everyone’s eyes on you. Yes, you’d decided earlier that you were doing this, that you would openly support Rhys and stand by his side. But you’d secretly hoped there would be a bit more time. To pick a moment that wasn’t as delicate as a hit on one of the most prominent people in Big Pharma on a night when half of London’s aristocracy would be attending.

It was already quite the bold move to kill Fernsby tonight, but you were prepared for it. However, you were not prepared for every guest in attendance to be watching your every move as you sauntered along the masses, accompanied by Rhys Montrose — awarded writer and presently favoured mayoral candidate. The chances of people recognising you from the online articles when you were by yourself were slim, but with Rhys by your side… No, you would never get to move around freely and unnoticed.

“I’ve not exactly counted on all the extra pairs of eyes on me. How do you expect me to be able to carry out my job when everybody is gawking at us?”

“I have every faith in your abilities to work around that. You’re a lot smarter than all of those spoiled wankers in there,” Rhys countered.

You warmed a little at the compliment, but you wouldn’t be swayed by his charm so easily. Humming noncommittally, you turned to open your purse and empty its contents on the kitchen table in order to transfer them to your clutch later, carefully setting down the poison filled bottle of Chanel no. 5.

Rhys reached out to touch your arm, tenderly stroking to get your attention, to get you to give in to him. You felt a familiar shiver at his touch and you immediately put some distance between you, opting to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Come on, darling. You haven’t even given me a kiss yet,” Rhys sighed.

“With the breaking and entering, and unequivocally inviting yourself to my private kill party tonight — I’m sorry but I don’t think you’re deserving of one,” you said, only half joking.

Rhys pouted. “That’s unfair. I haven’t seen you for days.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his whining tone, filling a glass with water and gulping it down in one go. You wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms and keep kissing him until your lungs were burning and screaming at you to break away and take a breath. A small part of you almost wanted to cave and allow him to accompany you tonight. You hated to admit it, but Rhys was right, it would be a hell of a lot of fun. If it wasn’t for the objections you’d already raised.

So, you resisted.

“You know you’re being unreasonable here, right?” Rhys asked from where he was now leaning against the table.

“Oh, I’m being unreasonable?” You shot back.

“Definitely,” Rhys affirmed, nothing but playfulness in his voice. “Next thing, you won’t allow me to see you in that wonderful dress you’ve got laid out on your bed.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant confession of snooping around your flat, putting the glass in the sink.

“Or worse, you won’t even let me taste you. Or,” he added, dramatic. “You won’t even let me smell you.”

The deep, gravel of his voice made you shiver again. God no, you definitely wanted him to. To have him come up to you, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent before attacking your skin with his soft, full lips. You would gladly welcome the feeling of his hands all over your body, his heat pressed to yours, pleasure coursing through both of you as your bodies moved to a perfectly timed rhythm.

You were so lost in these sinful thoughts that you barely registered Rhys’ next words. Something about being able to find out what you would smell like from a distance, even if you’d ignore him for the rest of the evening.

You didn’t think much of his words at first, but then the true meaning of what he’d said landed. What you would smell like.

The perfume.

Your eyes widened, your body instantly turning around as panic surged through you. You burst out of the kitchen to find Rhys already holding up the bottle of Chanel no. 5 that you’d taken out of your purse. He was grinning, evidently proud of himself for having found a way to get you to come out. Rhys was completely unaware of the fact that he was about to smell a bottle filled with a deadly poison. A poison that could violently kill him on the spot within mere minutes.

“Rhys, don’t!” You shouted.

You seized hold of his wrist, forcefully grabbing the perfume bottle from him, hastily checking if the top was still securely shut. When you were sure that Rhys hadn’t yet managed to open it, you let out a sigh of relief, looking up into his puzzled eyes.

“You nearly poisoned yourself just now,” you breathed harshly, feeling your heart painfully hammer in your chest at the jump scare Rhys had given you.

The grin slowly fell off of his face, his brows furrowing. He looked from you to the bottle, analysing it intently as you held it protectively close to your body, afraid it could still potentially hurt him somehow. Rhys’ lips parted slightly in confusion, the lines on his forehead prominent as he apparently couldn’t comprehend making the grave mistake of mixing up a perfume bottle with poison.

“It’s supposed to pass for perfume,” you explained, chest heaving from the sudden adrenaline rush. “I had it made exclusively for tonight.”

Rhys nodded lightly, breaking out of his frozen state. The concern in his blue eyes was unmistakable as he took in the alarm in your own eyes and the tense line in your shoulders. He slowly reached out to take the bottle from you, but you flinched back instinctively.

“I’ll be more careful this time,” Rhys promised, voice steady.

You allowed Rhys to slowly take the bottle from you and he carefully turned it around in his palm.

“What’s in it?” Rhys asked.

“Aconite.”

He winced. “Causes seizures, right?”

“No, instant heart attacks,” you corrected.

Rhys glanced over the bottle once more before setting it a safe distance away on the kitchen table. Next thing you knew, you felt his arms pull you close to his body, enveloping you in an embrace. Rhys knew the panic in your voice had been too real to simply brush off the moment and move on. He mentally scolded himself for being so careless, for scaring you like that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rhys whispered, placing a reassuring kiss to your forehead.

You immediately relaxed in his embrace, your breathing going back to normal as you focused on the warmth of his body against yours.

“Fuck,” you breathed into his shoulder, chuckling a little. “You scared me there for a minute.”

“I know,” he said.

Rhys’ hands found yours and he squeezed them reassuringly, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly.

“On the bright side, I finally get to hold you in my arms,” Rhys quipped, lightening the mood.

You snorted, shaking your head at him. “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?”

Nevertheless, you cupped his jaw, bringing your mouth up to his. Rhys made a satisfied noise against your lips, it had been days, though it had felt like months to him. It was a soft, slow glide of lips that desperately made you want to deepen the kiss. To have him. All of him.

The touch of Rhys’ feathery light hands as they travelled up your arms to cup both of your cheeks made you want to lean into him further. And if it was up to Rhys, he would’ve kept kissing you, touching you — do everything in his might to make you feel good. But you couldn’t let him, painfully acknowledging the fact that you had to get ready for tonight’s event at some point.

Placing one, two, three more kisses on his lips, you reluctantly stepped away from him, creating some distance to get your mind to focus on the task in front of you. Unfortunately, that task didn’t include Rhys.

“As much as I enjoy this, I need to start getting ready,” you answered Rhys’ questioning gaze.

He obviously wanted more from you. Just like you did from him. But no. You would not get distracted.

“Of course,” he agreed begrudgingly.

“So, you’re all set, then? Location, a way in, weapon of choice, a stunning dress, an exit strategy,” Rhys summed up all of the necessities.

“Yes. Like I said, I just need to start getting ready. Preferably without you distracting me,” you accused lightly, trying to move past him but he blocked your way.

“You’re missing one important thing for tonight, darling. Absolutely crucial if you want this kill to be a success.”

You tilted your head to the side, noting his serious expression as you searched his face.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Rhys smirked. “A date.”

You rolled your eyes before shooting him a look. Rhys barked a laugh, unable to suppress it at your sheer exasperation.

“Nice try. But I’ve got everything covered and I don’t need you for this.”

That made Rhys look at the remnants of the pile of information you had gathered on Fernsby that were still scattered around the rug-covered floor. You followed his gaze, knowing full well he’d gone through some of the documents whilst he’d waited for you. He’d already admitted to having sneaked a peek at your dress for tonight, so it wasn’t a big leap. Rhys confirmed it not even a second later.

“Interesting man, that Fernsby.”

“You know him?” You couldn’t help but ask, curious despite yourself.

“Can’t say that I do. But I know of him. I’m assuming your Ms. Edwards isn’t a fan?”

He warily glanced at the perfume bottle and you had to stifle a laugh at the slight pursing of his lips. He was clearly still more than a little displeased with the fact that he had nearly and unwittingly offed himself.

“No, she’s not. And that’s really all you need to know. Now, if you don’t mind,” you urged, gesturing blindly to indicate him moving out of your way.

Rhys hummed, completely disregarding you as he remained exactly where he was, his mischievous eyes unabashedly raking your figure. You stubbornly tried to ignore how the undeniable desire emanating from him made you want to peel off all of his fine-tailored clothes. What was it with men wearing suits that made them even more attractive?

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You shot him another pointed look to which Rhys only smirked in return.

“Like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’d rather I undress you with my hands?” Rhys murmured, moving closer.

Please, your mind screamed.

“No,” you answered instead.

Rhys hummed again, brushing your hair off of your shoulder. “I don’t think I believe you.”

He moved even closer to you, your breath catching at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck, just like you’d imagined earlier.

“Rhys,” you warned.

“I can have my driver drop us off at the event. That will save you at least thirty minutes of public transport. Precious time we can spend doing other things.”

Rhys emphasised his tempting words by sliding his hand from your shoulder, past your neck to possessively land on your throat. You shuddered when he squeezed lightly, teasing, making your pupils dilate perceptibly. Your resistance was dwindling with each touch, and he knew it. Damn him.

“What about the other guests,” you stammered, a final and futile attempt at resisting him.

“Forget about them, Y/N. Trust in yourself and in your capabilities. I’ll be there to assist you, or cause a massive distraction, if need be,” Rhys grinned.

He leaned in to brush his lips against your cheek, softly kissing his way down to your neck, hands sliding down your curves to hold onto your hips.

“You’re gonna keep being a childish pain in the arse until I allow you to come, aren’t you?”

“Very perceptive,” Rhys confirmed, placing a lingering kiss to your neck. “You might as well give in now, Y/N. I can be very persuasive.”

Inwardly, you couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words, immediately thinking back to what Claire had said earlier about Rhys. You were definitely not strong enough to say no to him. Especially not now that you knew what kind of pleasure he could give you.

You bit down a moan threatening to escape as he started to suck on the delicate skin below your ear.

That’s it.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why don’t you show me?”

Rhys leaned back to look you in the eye. His fingers dug deeper into your hips and his eyes glazed over with passionate lust the moment he knew you were serious. He smirked triumphantly and it almost made you want to revoke your consent if it wasn’t for the insistent heat already pooling between your legs at his proximity.

“With pleasure,” he said, low.

Rhys brought his hand to the back of your head, holding you firmly in place as he crashed his lips to yours. You whimpered at the brutal assault of his mouth, his other arm coming around you to pull you even closer, twining the two of you together.

He wasn’t holding back now that you gave him full permission to simply ravage your mouth. And you didn’t want him to, your hand grabbing the base of his neck, holding him close. Kissing deeply and with intent, Rhys’ tongue danced with yours, swallowing each other’s sinful noises. In the back of your mind, you quietly wondered how you could have ever let your nerves for the media’s attention win over having this — having him.

Rhys drove you backwards and you stumbled back until you landed onto the couch with a breathy laugh. Grinning, Rhys crowded over you, finding your mouth again.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring him in place, licking into his mouth. You couldn’t get enough of him, your hands dipping underneath his suit jacket. He moved back to quickly shrug it off, letting the garment fall to the floor before diving back in, sweeping his tongue against yours, all-consuming.

You traded kisses like that, like you didn’t have to breathe, completely addicted to each other’s taste.

Shifting underneath him, you suggestively nudged his already half-hard cock, making him hiss into the kiss as lust fired straight through him. You broke the kiss to let out a soft laugh, repeating the motion deliberately, smiling as you playfully bit at his mouth.

“Who’s persuasive, now?” You chuckled.

“The jury’s still out, darling,” Rhys shot back, smiling cheekily.

Rhys’ hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric higher and higher, providing him with access to newly exposed skin. He moved lower, placing kisses all over your stomach. Urging you to arch your back, Rhys unclasped your bra, immediately sucking a nipple into his mouth. You keened, cradling his head, your hips moving against his out of their own accord, making him groan into the velvet of your skin.

Soon, all of your clothes were a disregarded mess on the floor, including Rhys’ very expensive suit. You faintly registered one of his three hundred pounds cufflinks clank onto the wooden floor a few metres away from you. Neither you nor Rhys paid it any mind as he sucked a bruising kiss in between your breasts.

“Tell me a secret,” you gasped, repeating the words that had previously succeeded in eliciting the truth from both of your souls. “How long have you been planning to tag along?”

You could feel his mouth break into a wide, boyish grin as he nipped along the skin of your ribs.

Rhys glanced up at you, eyes dancing with amusement. “Since you took the call.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow, exasperated. Rhys laughed, continuing to kiss his way down your body.

“You better earn your plus one status, Mr. Montrose,” you challenged.

In response, light fingertips brushed your clit, nearly making you jump out of your skin. You lifted yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he pushed your thighs wider, making a space for himself.

“Oh, I certainly will, Miss Y/L/N,” he promised, his mouth descending on your wanting core.

You gasped at the feeling of his plump lips closing around your clit, suckling sweetly. Rhys moved down through your already slick folds, lapping up the wetness before tracing his tongue back up and around your clit, repeating the movements relentlessly.

Fire and want slammed through you, Rhys maintaining eye contact as he expertly ate you out, his sparkling blue eyes betraying how much he enjoyed seeing your pleasure-stricken face. Your hips bucked involuntarily, Rhys snaking an arm around them to hold you down. Your own arm gave out beneath you and you fell back to the couch with a loud moan.

Your whole focus zeroed in on Rhys and his perfect mouth on you, unable to think of anything else. The way he managed to learn how to work your body in such a short span of time, it was honestly remarkable. He was able to coax your pleasure to highs you hadn’t known were possible before you’d met him.

Your hands held onto the cushions for dear life as Rhys’ tongue kept insistently flickering against your clit. Your internal muscles clenched around nothing and you whimpered at the emptiness.

“More, please,” you moaned.

Rhys hmmed against your clit, sending a wave of delicious vibrations against your bundle of nerves. You let out a wanton noise, his fingers obliging your request as they delved into you.

The added pressure of his long fingers filling you up, it was almost too much, and you writhed beneath him. Rhys tightened his hold on your hips though, keeping you pressed to his mouth, unable to escape his touch.

He quickly built up your high, your increasing moans and your inner walls clenching around his fingers functioning as prime indicators of your fast-approaching orgasm. But just as you were about to tumble over the edge, Rhys relented, slowing his fingers and the movement of his mouth.

“What—” you protested, dazed.

He withdrew his fingers from inside you, slowly and deliberately licking them clean.

“I’ll let you come, if you let me,” he said, a wicked little gleam in his eyes.

Was he bloody serious? Hadn’t you already given into him, essentially allowing him to come with you tonight? What else did the bastard want? You stared him down, eyes narrowing.

Rhys waited patiently for your answer, completely unbothered by his own nuisance as he placed open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh, biting softly before smoothing over it with his tongue.

You groaned, trying to move your hips to chase his slowly retreating mouth that kept moving farther away from where you needed him most. Rhys smirked down at you, pressing your hips down into the couch with an even firmer grip in retaliation.

“Please,” you begged, turning completely submissive underneath him, desperate for his touch.

Rhys absolutely loved it when you fully gave in to him, granting him the power over your body and pleasure, trusting that he would make you feel so fucking good. Even if he could be a goddamn tease.

“I need verbal confirmation, Y/N.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned again. “Yes. Yes, you can come with me to the fucking most ostentatious event of the decade.”

Rhys smiled, relishing your obedience.

“Now, was that so hard?”

You were about to answer him with a snarky remark, but whatever you were about to say left your brain the moment his mouth was back on your heat, his fingers resuming their unforgiving pace inside of you.

Your hand shot out to grab hold of his arm that was still coiled around your lower stomach to keep your body down. Rhys focused all of his efforts on rubbing against the one spot inside you that made your nails dig painfully deep into the delicate skin of his wrist, adamant in bringing you over the edge. His lips closed around your clit, sucking, and you made a choked sound, suddenly there.

“Rhys,” you cried out, everything in your body pulling tight and hot.

A blistering wave of pleasure took you under, making you gasp for air, Rhys’ edging tactics surely having heightened the intensity of your orgasm. Rhys gentled you through it, mouth still moving over you, but lighter as you slowly came down.

After a few delirious moments, you came back to your senses. Rhys’ chin was perched on top of your thigh, openly admiring you with a smile, evidently proud of his accomplishment of reducing you to a mumbling, moaning mess.

“Don’t look so smug.”

“Ah, but I managed to persuade you, didn’t I?”

“Oh, shut up,” you murmured, grabbing onto his neck to pull him up.

He gladly followed your lead, capturing your lips once his face was at your level. You faintly tasted traces of yourself on his tongue, that in and of itself arousing you once again.

Rhys simply kissed you for a while, allowing you a moment before he would give it his all to give you another mind-altering orgasm.

You sighed into the kiss, running your hands up and down his chest. Rhys dipped down to kiss along your jaw, over your chin and back up to your mouth.

“Rhys,” you breathed, biting down on his lower lip, tugging in invitation.

Your blunt nails scratched down his back, your legs rewrapping themselves around his waist as you moved your hips to grind against his length. Rhys didn’t need any more urging than that.

His fingers wrapped around your upper thigh as he positioned your bodies, lining himself up before slowly sinking inside of you. You gasped, still sensitive down there.

Rhys set up an excruciating rhythm, slow but deep and thorough, making you feel every inch of him.

Your hips moved up to meet his thrusts, your fingers digging into his muscled shoulders as Rhys held your gaze, his blue eyes almost black. You were captivated by them, getting lost in the intensity of his stare. You felt as if he looked directly into your bare soul, knowing precisely what to do and how to move to make you feel like you could explode.

“Y/N,” Rhys panted, dropping his forehead to yours.

He produced the most magnificent, sinful sounds out of pure and utter bliss as you squeezed around him.

Hearing Rhys let out those low, hoarse grunts of pleasure and feeling the sureness of his deep, methodical thrusts, it easily helped build up that familiar knot inside of you once more, ready to burst any second. You moaned his name, reclaiming his lips. Sensing you were close, Rhys moved his free hand between you.

His thumb played over your clit with just the right amount of pressure, sending you over the edge all over again, moaning into his mouth. Rhys fucked you through it, gradually picking up his pace to chase his own orgasm. He came soon after, his rhythm stuttering as he thrust into you once, twice before bottoming out, trembling against you as he spilled his seed inside of you.

Both of your chests were heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat beading between your bodies.

You closed your eyes for a short moment, and when you re-opened them, you found Rhys staring at you, damp curls all over the place as he looked at you like you were a miracle. You were already flushed from your intense sexual activities, but if you weren’t, you’d sure as hell flush at the sight of him.

Rhys moved, slipping out of you and rearranging your bodies on the couch, having you lay partially on top of him, your head over his steadily beating heart. You sighed, tangling your legs with his.

Neither one of you said anything for a moment, quietly basking in the blissful afterglow. You were the first to break the silence a few minutes later.

“It’s never been like this for me,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to specify any further, Rhys immediately understanding what you meant.

“Me neither,” he admitted.

The connection between you, it opened up realms of feeling, and ultimately pleasure that you’d never experienced with anyone else in your life. You were attuned to his soul, and his to yours. Like a sweet melody only the two of you could hear, no one else in the world privy of the beautiful, encapsulating, and oh so hypnotising song.

Soulmates, Claire had said. And in this moment, you almost wanted to believe her.

You silently traced patterns over his chest, Rhys combing through your hair with a remarkable delicacy. You wanted to stay in this moment forever. But of course, you couldn’t. There was still the pending murder of Mr. Daniel Fernsby. He had to die — tonight.

Rhys apparently paralleled your thoughts, and officially chose to shatter your illusions of just staying here and ignoring reality for a little while longer with his next words.

“Come on, we have to get ready,” Rhys softly urged you to get up and subsequently move away from the warmth of his chest.

You groaned in response. “I’m never moving again.”

The vibrations of his contagious laughter rumbled through you, a feeling of all-consuming happiness enveloping you at the mere sound of it, making your answering smile stretch from ear to ear.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, darling.”

“What do you mean? I can decide what I do and don’t do perfectly well for myself, thank you.”

He chuckled. “I know. And you’ve already decided previously to get this job done tonight.”

Rhys tightened his arms around you, and it was the only warning you got before he hoisted himself up, taking you with him.

“Rhys,” you squealed at the suddenness, coiling yourself around his body like a koala bear, afraid of dropping to the floor and landing on your bare arse.

“There’s work to be done, darling. And I for one cannot wait to finally see you in your element up close,” he answered, carrying you to your ensuite bathroom, walking past your bed where your dress was laid out.

You huffed. Of course now that you’d allowed him to come with you, he was all of a sudden very impatient to get a move on. Typical.

“You act as if you’ve just won first-class tickets to a world-renowned theatre production.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

You snorted. “I guess it depends on one’s definition of the word entertainment. Now, put me down, you arse.”

Rhys chuckled at your demanding tone, nevertheless setting you down in front of your bathroom cabinet. You looked up at him and Rhys leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“I would happily join you in the shower, but I fear we might get distracted again,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I think you might be right,” you laughed. “I’ll be quick and then the shower’s all yours.”

He gave you one more, brief kiss before turning to leave so you could finally get ready for the event, his parting smile promising an evening full of excitement.

Turning around, you glanced up at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was all over the place, your bright eyes shone with joy, and there was a faint blush present on your cheeks. You looked properly fucked, that’s for sure.

You shook your head with a soft laugh, quickly turning on the shower and grabbing your hairbrush to try and untangle the mess on top of your head. You had approximately one hour before you had to leave, you deduced as you’d registered the time on the clock in your bedroom when Rhys had carried you past it.

Let’s see what the rest of the night will have in store.

––––

A/N: I finished drafting this chapter around 2 am. I don’t know if that explains anything but ah, well. I hope you enjoyed it! And please do let me know if you have any other ideas for this fic, or things you would like to see happen. I have a rough outline of where I want the story to go, with a few more plot points to incorporate. I’m thinking, maybe around 9/10 more chapters? Unless someone has a great idea for another storyline ;) So, let me know if you do!

Or just ideas for a different fic altogether… I’m open to ideas. Anyways, thank you for reading and embarking on this journey with me, it means the world to me!

#condoms not existing for y/n and rhys😂

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remycarrera · 2 months

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If you like As Dusk Falls just like me and are totally in love with Dale Holt, check out this amazing Fanfiction I guarantee you it'll be worth it!

When Faith Meets Juvenile - Chap 1

This is a Dale Holt x reader story. There's no (y/n) insert. I'm just avoiding the use of the reader's name and it is female-based. There are hints of physical appearance, but nothing in-depth.

This writing contains highly sensitive content like violence, drugs, the use of weapons, abuse, mental illness, hostage situations, talk of suicide, religious abuse, smut, and other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised. MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT.

I do not allow anyone to copy, alter, or repost my work as their own.

3767-word count

Growing up in Two Rock comes with a lot of nothing. The scenery is brown dirt, cactuses, and hills. The sun beats down directly on people, leaving them crisp with a bit of heat stroke. Some kids figured out how to make their childhood entertaining, but it wasn’t an option for me. My father is a well-respected pastor at the Two Rock Chapel, and my family and onlookers expected me to be well-behaved. I was, for the most part, until I met a boy. He changed my life forever, and I’ll never forget what happened.

“Jesus said, ‘I will come and heal him.’” My father’s deep and authoritative voice flooded the churchgoer’s ears as he paced the stage. I sat front and center. So my dad could keep an eye on me and for everyone to see how disciplined I was. My mother looked perfectly prim and proper to the right of me, and my older brother was to the left, wearing a suit with his hair gelled back nicely. I wore a pale blue dress that went up to my neck with a white collar and short sleeves that puffed out. The dress was cinched at my waist to show off my healthy physique (my mother says it’s good to show off without showing skin), and the dress’s bottom belled out past my knees. I wore sheer tights underneath with heels to match. My hair was pulled into a sleek pony, and I was accented with pearl earrings and a necklace. Only the lightest touch of makeup was applied to my face to accentuate my features, but not enough to be called a whore.

My bible was open and sitting in my lap. Like always, I followed the sermon my father was teaching. I had a notebook open and was writing down thoughts and questions that popped up. As a preacher’s daughter, I was meant to lead by example, but I wasn’t doing this for them or to be a good child for my parents. I was doing this for me. My faith has always been important to me, and damn it, I am a good kid. Sometimes, I wish I had a rebellious bone in me, like my brother, who secretly sneaks out of the house to do God knows what. One night, I followed him, but he caught me within 10 minutes and dragged me back to the house. He told me I shouldn’t ruin my innocence, that once I tasted the bad things in the world, I could never get it back.

“I ask that some of our worship members join me on the stage as I close us out this morning,” My father’s voice became soft, “You may bow your heads and close your eyes.” My back slumps over as I droop toward my lap, and my eyes flutter close. The sound of a piano starts to float around me, and a woman’s voice begins to sing quietly.

“Amazing love, how can it be? That you, my King, would die for me?”

My father spoke above the singing, asking if anyone in the crowd didn’t know God and wanted to get to know Him, to raise their hands, and that someone would join them to pray. People were slowly leaving their seats, going to the altar, and sitting on the ground to pray. My brother slowly slid out of his seat, sat at the end of the stage, leaning the top half of his body over it, and began praying. My mother tapped my knee as if to say I needed to join the others who were kneeling. I walked up to where my brother was and sat on the ground behind him, making sure my dress was tucked neatly under my legs and bowed my head into my lap.

When the service ended, I was greeted by people praising me for my well-behaved manners and asking what kind of things I’d done so far over the summer. I indulged in conversation and made small talk while waiting for everyone to filter out. The heat was rising in the building, and I could feel my dress sticking to my back. Once the last person left, my family was also free to leave. Usually, after church, we go out to eat for lunch and spend the day together until evening, when the second sermon of the day starts. Yes, you must think we’re crazy for having church twice on Sundays, but that’s how we do it here. But today, I didn’t feel like going out; it would be extra hot, and I wanted to go home and get out of this stuffy dress.

“Daddy, could you drop me off at the house? I promised Nelly I would return her book this afternoon.” I asked my dad as we all got into the car.

“Can’t you do that after we eat?” He looked back at me through the review mirror.

“I’m not very hungry,” I pause, “I was hoping I could stay at her place for a little so we could talk about the book together.” It wasn’t a lie; I said I could probably bring the book sometime today, but I don’t plan to stay long at her house. I just wanted time to be by myself for a while.

“Honey, it’s family day.” My mom states.

“I know, bu-”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like her to ask to hang out with friends often. Why don’t you just let her go.” My brother pipes up from beside me. I was shocked for him to come to my rescue; he protects me often but doesn’t usually go out of his way to help me with our parents.

“James is right. I think it’ll be okay, just this once, to miss a family day.” My dad speaks. A bright smile appears on my face, and I thank my father for letting me have this day. I glance at my brother with a silent thank you as well.

As we pulled up to our house in Big Oak Neighborhood, I promised my dad I’d be back in time for church tonight and wave goodbye as they set off to some restaurant. As I enter the house, my shoulders instantly relax as the cold air hits me. I unbutton the collar of my dress as I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom. Once in my room, I kick my heels into some random corner, rip the dress over my head, and toss it to the floor. I lay on my bed for a few minutes in my undergarments, letting the cold air kiss my sticky skin. When I finally get up from my bed, I pick out a pair of short overalls that hit just above my midthigh, the shortest thing I was allowed to wear, and a plain white tee to go underneath. I put on a pair of socks and sneakers and redid my hair into a slightly messy braid. I grabbed my tote bag and put Nelly’s book inside, along with my journal.

I entered the kitchen and grabbed the necessary things to make a sandwich: bread, mayo, meat, cheese, pickles, you know, the works. Once put together, I put the sandwich into a paper bag and then stuffed it into my tote bag. I grabbed a few more snacks from the pantry, filled my water bottle, and headed out the door. It was peak sunrise in Arizona, and the heat was hitting a hundred degrees. The sun hit the sidewalk’s concrete, bouncing up and blinding me. I squinted as I walked past the houses on my street and turned down Ranger Rd. The third house on the left belonged to Nelly. I approached the front door and knocked my knuckles against the wood. A few minutes passed, and I heard a few voices exchanged back and forth before the door swung open.

“Hey!” Nelly’s giant smile greeted me.

“Hi, sorry to intrude. I was just stopping by to drop your book off.” I reached into my bag and pulled the book out.

“You finished it already?” She looked shocked as she reached out to grab the book from my hands.

“Yeah, I just spent a whole day reading it, which wasn’t hard since it was a good book.”

“Did you want to come inside and talk about it for a while?” Nelly’s body slid to the side, revealing I was okay coming in.

“Oh, no, sorry, I have to get back home. It’s Sunday, so I have to be with my family. I was just allowed to stop by and drop the book off.”

“No worries! We can get together another time to discuss the book!” Nelly said as she closed the door.

I walked, about an hour, in the direction of a park, a place I’ve gone to a few times when needing space from others. Usually, I would tell my parents I was studying at the library, but with it being summer, I couldn’t use that excuse. I found a wooden bench seat in the shade and made myself comfortable. Inside my tote bag was my MP3 player, so I took my headphones out and placed them over my ears, letting my music drown out everything around me. I pulled out my journal and pen and began writing about everything I felt. This journal was my deepest and darkest thoughts, and if anyone got a hold of it, I would be in deep shit.

After a few hours, I had eaten all my food, and my water was almost gone. I decided it was time to leave. Collecting all my things and putting them back into my bag, I headed home.

“Watch out!” A voice behind me yelled out as I was about to cross the road. The next thing I knew, something slammed into my back, sending me flying to the ground, and a heavy weight landed on top of me.

“Ah, shit.” The gruff male voice said. Then, the heavy weight that was pinning me down lifted. I turned around to look up at what had hit me to see a figure towering over me. The sun was behind the guy who ran into me, making him look like a silhouette. “Are you okay?” He asked me.

“I-I’m fine.” I tried to push myself back on my feet, but once I put weight onto my left leg, I collapsed. I expected my body to meet the asphalt again, but instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist. When I looked at the guy this time, I could see his features. Short brown hair that was messed up from the crash, piercing blue eyes creased with worry, and a face shaped like God had carefully pieced him together. Suddenly, I forgot I was hurt and found myself staring at this guy with my mouth agape and speechless. He was a bit rugged-looking, but that made him more attractive in my eyes. A slight smirk appeared after what felt like forever of just looking at his face.

“You like what you see?” His statement ripped me out of my daze. A cough erupted from my throat, and the heat rose to my cheeks.

“N-no,” I stuttered, “Just confused about how you crashed into me.”

“I tried to stop, but the brakes on my bike weren’t working.”

“Could you help me stand?” He was holding me in a dip position, like we were dancing, from catching me. His face was only inches away from mine. It was the closest I’ve ever been with a male. I’d never been embraced by one before; having his arms around me was weird, but I also didn’t want him to let go of me. I felt strange for thinking this way. I mean, I didn’t even know who this guy was! He could be a murderer for all I know.

"Ah, fuck.” The brunette cussed, “Your leg is messed up pretty good.” His crystal eyes darted around the park, looking for something, like he was worried someone would see us. The smirk that once sat across his face turned into a hard line, and his eyebrows furrowed together. I looked down to see what he was looking at. There was a large gash from the center of my shin down to my ankle, and blood was dripping down, staining my shoelaces red.

“How far do you live?” He asked me.

“I live in Big Oak Neighborhood.”

“Why the fuck are you over here?”

“I like this park, it’s quiet.”

“You know this part of Two Rock is the trashy side, right?”

I rolled my eyes at the guy, “I think I’ll be fine to walk back.” I tried to pry his arms off from around me, but he was way too strong.

“Yeah, I don’t think you can walk that far.” His grip around me tightened, “My house is around the corner. I can patch you up and then drive you home.”

He helped me sit back on the warm ground as he picked the bike up. His blue eyes scanned the black metal and wheels. Once pleased with what he saw, he helped me situate myself on the bike. I rested my hands on the handles and set my feet on the pegs of the wheel in front of me. His muscular arms reached around my sides, and he placed his hands next to mine. Slowly, he started pushing me away from the park. It took us about ten minutes to reach a brown fence, and a small house with a porch was not too far away. It was the kind of home that seemed cozy. I always dreamed of living out in the country. My home back in Big Oak was your typical suburban house. It looked identical to the ones around; the grass was green, and we even had a white picket fence. I know I should be thankful for where I live; not many people have the life I do, but I still wish things were different for me.

Once we got to the porch, he stopped the bike and helped me off it. I felt terrible that he was going out of his way to do all this for me. Yes, he ran into me, and I wouldn’t be injured if it wasn’t for him, but he didn’t need to help me in the way he was doing. Slowly, we made our way up the steps of the porch. His strong arm wrapped around me, pulling me tight into his side as I hopped up each step on my good leg. We entered the house, down a small hallway, and entered a tiny bathroom. Without warning, I was lifted off the ground and placed on the sink counter. A yelp escaped my lips, and I gripped the male’s shoulders in front of me. He stared back at me with the same smirk from earlier.

“I’m tempted to make you yelp like that again.” His voice was low and husky as he spoke. I wasn’t fully aware of what he meant by that, but my body still reacted anyway. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and my face burnt with embarrassment. He stood there with his arms beside me, his face inched closer to mine, stopping a breath away from my lips. I had just met this guy, and yet I wasn’t going to stop him. But he pushed away and started rummaging through the cupboards. I watched how his face looked as he focused on grabbing whatever supplies he needed. His face relaxed into its natural state, with soft eyes, his lips pursed only slightly, and his hair fell forward onto his forehead. When he got everything, he turned the faucet on and waited for the water to warm.

“I’m going to clean up the area around your wound. This won’t hurt too bad, but I will disinfect the wound immediately after, which stings a little.” I nodded my head and watched him as he knelt to get level with my leg. As he wiped away the blood that covered my leg, he was gentle, not to hurt me. With most of the blood gone, I could see what the gash looked like, and it seemed I would probably need some stitches. He then grabbed a bottle and took the lid off.

“Alright, this isn’t the fun part.” He said pouring the liquid right over my wound.

“Fuck!” I yelled and instinctively covered my mouth. It hurt a lot more than he was explaining.

“Sorry, Doll, it needs to be cleaned.” He waited awhile for the liquid to do its thing before pressing some soft gauze against my gash and wrapping it with medical tape. He stood back up and placed himself between my legs. “You’re all patched up now.”

“T-thank you.” I kept my gaze on the ground because I knew if I looked up at him, I would become even more of a stuttering mess.

“I guess it’s time I drive you home.” He gripped my hips and helped me slide off the counter. If my dad knew a male was touching me in the manner this guy is, he would lose his shit.

“What time is it anyway?”

“Around 5 o’clock.”

“What!? You have to get me home now!” I tried to hobble out of the bathroom, which only caused the male behind me to laugh.

“You look like a deer trying to walk for the first time.” He said as he watched me from the bathroom as I grabbed onto things around me to stay steady. “What’s the rush anyways? You have a curfew?”

“Yes! My parents are going to kill me. I should’ve been home an hour ago!”

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist. You’re a teenager. What else are they expecting? This shit is normal.”

“Not in my household, and not on a Sunday.” Confusedly, He looked at me, “My dad is the pastor at Two Rock Chapel. I’m expected to be perfect and well-behaved. I wasn’t even supposed to be out this way. I lied and said I was going to a friend. I’m going to be in deep shit.”

“Wait, you’re the preacher’s daughter?” His blue eyes opened wide at this information. “You’re like Two Rock’s most innocent princess.”

“Huh?” I grabbed the chair in front of me to balance myself, “People talk about me?”

“It’s Two Rock, Doll. Everyone talks about everyone.” He made his way over to me, “Here, let me help you.” One arm reached around my side to help support me once again.

“Oh yeah? Then who are you?” I asked, looking up at the handsome stranger.

“I’m Dale, Dale Holt.”

“Holt? Dale Holt?” The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before.

“You might’ve seen me in the papers. I’m pretty famous around here.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know I was in the presence of a celebrity.” A chuckle fell through his lips, and the feeling of warmness flooded through me.

“It’s probably for the best you don’t know who I am.” Again, his face turned serious. There was something dark and lonely hiding behind his eyes. I wanted to ask him why it was for the best that I didn’t know who he was, but I knew it wasn’t my place to pry, especially with someone I just met.

Once in the truck, I instructed Dale on how to get to my house. He slowly drove while looking at all the homes we passed. When something was interesting or cool, he would point it out and say they should add it to their farm. I could sense the want from him to be someone living behind these walls, to live the life that I have. That was the first time my heart stopped. Watching him stare out the window and play out what could be if he were a resident here. We didn’t discuss our similarities in wanting what the other had, but I could feel it from him. And in that moment, I had never felt more connected to someone else before. It was odd to connect without any interaction, but something within me stirred. He seemed to have felt the same feeling cause his head turned slowly to look at me, and we locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. We understood each other. Finally, a person, completely different from the other, felt what we felt.

He ripped his eyes from mine and said, “Do you want me to drop you down a few houses?”

“You can pull up to my house.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want anyone thinking bad about you for being with me.” His eyes drifted down to the floorboard.

“Why would anyone think badly about that?”

“I’m not the type of guy your church people approve of.”

“Well, it’s none of their business. You may have been the reason I got injured, but you helped me. So thank you.” I flashed him a small smile, “If it makes you feel better, my parents are probably already at the church since my dad has to set up for the sermon.” He did as I said and pulled into my driveway, and just like I suspected, the family car was gone.

“I’m sorry for your leg,” Dale spoke in a low tone.

“It’s okay. You helped me a lot today, and I really appreciate it. Thank you, seriously.” I went to open the door, but before I could get out, I felt his strong hand wrap around my arm again.

“Can you walk to the door?”

“I think I can manage this one.” He released my wrist, and I slowly lowered myself out of the truck. “Dale?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to see you again someday.”

“I would like that too, Doll.”

I closed the truck door and slowly limped to the door of my house. A stupid smile plastered on my face as I opened the door and walked inside. The sound of his truck driving away off in the distance.

Dale Holt. The guy that changed my life forever.

AN:

Hey guys! I hope you liked this first chapter! I'm not the best writer in the world, but I hope you enjoy reading this. I will try to get chapters out fairly frequently, but I work 2 jobs and can get pretty busy. So please be patient with me! Please let me know if you see any errors so I can fix them! I do use editing software, but only some things get caught. I want everyone to know that some experiences the reader has are things I've dealt with personally (and so have others), so please be kind in the comments when talking about any of the serious situations!

#as dusk falls #Dale Holt x reader #as dusk falls fanfic #x reader #sharon holt #fanfiction #joyce walema #zoe walker #vince walker #when faith meets juvenile

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remycarrera · 6 months

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House Of Fire And Ice

A Jaime Lannister x Oc Targaryen Story

Hi! This my first time writing a story on here so I hope you like it I'll probably post more chapters of this if it doesn't flop so enjoy!

"Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land."

But...What if it landed on greatness?

Midnight, At House Stark-Targaryen

In the dimly lit chamber, Rainelle Targaryen's cries echoed as she brought forth new life. Costance and Poppy, her faithful maids, offered support while Orion Stark stood by her side, a pillar of reassurance. "You're almost there, Rainelle. One more push," he urged, his voice unwavering.

With a final surge of strength, Rainelle welcomed Riyah Stark Targaryen into the world. "Give me my baby," she whispered, arms outstretched. The maids carefully placed the dragon wolf cub in her embrace, a symbol of the union between House Targaryen and House Stark.

Orion, now seated beside Rainelle, couldn't conceal his joy. "And what is the name of this little one?" he asked, his gaze shifting from the newborn to his wife.

"Riyah Stark Targaryen, Dragonborn, Mother Of Wolves, The Healer, And maybe one day a Peacekeeper" Rainelle declared with pride. The room filled with warmth as the baby dragoncub opened her eyes, revealing a mesmerizing shade of light purple, accented by a ring of grey. The newly expanded family basked in the magical moment, a legacy of fire and ice embodied in their precious child.

In the midstof their joy, Leone, Orion's trusted confidant, burst in, his appearance disheveled. Concern etched across Orion's face, he demanded an explanation. "Leone, what's the meaning of this?" The reply came in breathless gasps, "They're here, and they want the baby."

Rainelle, startled, turned her gaze to Orion, disbelief etched on her face. "I thought we'd have more time!" she exclaimed, desperation in her voice. Orion sighed, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Me too."

Moving swiftly, Orion took their precious newborn from Rainelle's arms and handed her to Leone. "Get her to Winterfell. If we're not out of the castle before the bell rings, Leave, once you get there, talk with Lyanna and Rhaegar Stark. Tell them Orion Stark sent you." Leone nodded, a silent understanding passing between them.

Tears welled in Rainelle's eyes as she struggled to accept the separation. "There has to be another way," she pleaded. Orion, gripping her hand, met her gaze with a heavy heart. "There is no other way."

As Leone prepared to depart, Rainelle held onto the brief moments with her baby, sorrow painting her face. The impending threat forced them into a painful decision, and time slipped away like sand through their fingers.

Leone sprinted through the castle, grateful that the baby remained peacefully asleep. Though torn by leaving his best friend behind, he knew protecting the newborn took precedence. In a dark corridor, he encountered The damned, scrawny, burnt creatures from the depths of hell. Drawing his sword, Leone faced the menacing beings.

As they fixated on the baby, their charge began. Leone, swift and determined, struck down two of them, ensuring the child's safety. Surprisingly, the baby remained undisturbed, peacefully asleep amidst the chaos. Breathing heavily, Leone sheathed his sword, unaware of the remaining threat.

Unseen by Leone, a lone creature lunged, but before it could strike, the baby's eyes glowed purple. In an unexpected display of power, the creature fell lifeless. Leone, astonished, turned to the baby who was clapping and smiling. "Did you do that?" he asked in disbelief, and Riyah responded with happy coos.

"Thank you, little one," Leone expressed his gratitude, realizing the extraordinary nature of the child in his arms.

In the biting cold, Leone emerged into the snowy night, footsteps echoing in the silence as he navigated the forest. Concealed behind a tree, he anxiously awaited Rainelle and Orion. Hours stretched into eternity, and when the ominous bell finally tolled, signaling danger, neither of them emerged.

Holding back tears, Leone's resolve solidified. He moved purposefully towards the stable, determined to carry out Orion's wishes. With a heavy heart, he secured a horse and embarked on the journey through the forest, the long road to Winterfell lying ahead. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him as he rode into the unknown, the fate of the newborn and the future of House Stark-Targaryen resting on his shoulders.

Time skip to winterfell

The journey to Winterfell proved arduous, but Leone's arrival was met with the sight of the rising sun, ushering in a new day. Riding through the streets, he reached the entrance of the Stark house, where two guards stood vigilant.

"I'm here to see Lyanna and Rhaegar Stark. Tell them Orion Stark sent me," he declared, hoping the weight of his words would grant him entry. The guards exchanged whispers before one disappeared into the castle to relay the message.

After a few tense hours, the guard returned with Lyanna and Rhaegar by his side. Leone carefully dismounted, the sleeping baby in his arms. Rhaegar, memories resurfacing, acknowledged the name. "Orion Stark...I haven't heard that name in a long time."

Leone sighed sadly, delivering the painful news. "Your son has been murdered, sir, and he asked me to bring you his daughter if he didn't make it out." Lyanna gasped, tears welling in her eyes, her heart aching for the loss. Rhaegar, though silent, closed his eyes, grappling with the weight of the news.

"Is the baby okay?" Rhaegar inquired, regaining his composure. Leone nodded, and with a gesture, Rhaegar accepted the child, a silent acknowledgment of the sorrow and responsibility now shared between them.

Rhaegar gently cradled Riyah in his arms, marveling at the intriguing blend of Targaryen and Stark features she inherited. The sunlight played on her white hair, catching the subtle hue of light purple, a testament to her unique lineage. As he observed the stitching on the golden-emblazoned blanket, a symbol of her dual heritage, a warmth filled his heart.

With a soft smile, Rhaegar spoke words of welcome and protection, binding her fate to the ancient house of Stark. "Riyah Stark Targaryen will find solace within the sturdy walls of Winterfell. May the wolves of the North guard her path, and may the dragons of her bloodline watch over her journey," he declared with a solemnity that echoed through the quiet town.

The solemn moment marked a union of two great houses, an acknowledgment of Riyah's destined place among the wolves of the North. Rhaegar, with a sense of duty and affection, placed her back into the arms of leone, hoping that the alliance forged in that entrance way would stand the test of time. As the sun continued to cast its warm glow, a new chapter unfolded for Riyah Stark Targaryen within the ancient and storied walls of Winterfell.

#game of thrones #jaime lannister #house stark #house targaryen #dragonborn #winterfell #oc

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