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drjackandmissjo · 5 years ago

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Roses are Red, Tattoos are Forever

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter

Feysand masterlist

The Sherlock Conundrum

Florist and tattoo artist Au, Modern Day

“Can you please stop with this madness? Hugh Laurie is clearly the best Sherlock ever!”

They were both sitting on the couch of his living room. Really close to each other. She had her left knee under her body and was fully facing him. He had been throwing glances at her way the whole time she’s been there, and now was admiring her everything as they bantered lovingly.

After a particularly rough client, that had taken her nearly seven hours to finish, she came into his shop claiming: “We’re both closing earlier, I need to rest and so do you.”

At his attempt to tell her off, cause “I don’t need to rest I am in pristine fit every second of every minute”, she simply replied with an elongated ‘Please’ and a pair of puppy dog eyes that would’ve put a Labrador to shame.

Useless to say, they ended up on his couch half an hour later, a marathon of the fourth season of House M.D. on the television and chips and popcorn all around.

Feyre is harder than she looks, tougher. She likes to drink whiskey and burning liquor and beer.

Rhys, on the other hand, is a refined rosé man. He drinks fruity drinks and cocktails and vodka. He tried the same stuff that she drinks, once, when they went out with the rest of the inner circle after Az had received a promotion. It didn’t end well.

Feyre and Cassian will forever tease him about it.

Since their taste in alcohol was on such a wide spectrum, they decided to settle for some sparkly Coca-Cola for that fine night.

About halfway through episode six, the debate had begun. The show was soon forgotten and left as a white noise machine that lulled them into their silliness.

“Feyre Darling. You are being delusional. Dr House’s got nothing on RDJ’s Sherlock. Just cause the character was inspired by Conan Doyle’s work it doesn’t mean it can be considered a Sherlock.”

She laughed. A delicious sound that was filling his days more and more each morning. “Do you know that Conan Doyle based Shelly on a doctor, right? Also, yeah Jude Law’s better than Wilson, that is true.”

“Can we just agree that Cumberbatch and Freeman are equally amazing.”

“Yeah, duh! But, controversial opinion: I don’t actually ship Jonhlock romantically.”

“More like platonic soul-mates? Makes complete sense. They are not interested in each other at all. You are right, Fey-ruh Acheron.”

‘HOW DARE SHE...’, he thought severely displeased.

“Oh please don’t be pissed at me. I like them together and everything, but in my mind, Sherlock is pretty much ace-aro. I mean, Cumberbatch was also Smaug. Which in the books is described as a dragon while the movies decided to portray him like a vixen...” He solemnly nodded.

That is, indeed, a severe problem in mainstream media.

“That is, indeed, a severe problem in today mainstream media. We live in a world where people don’t know the difference between one another! Daenerys Mother of Dragons? More like Dany The Soccer Mom of three cool lizards. That would be more appropriate!”

“Don’t talk to me about Dany, I’m still pissed about Jonerys. I mean, fan-service much? Okay, I can deal with that. But don’t freaking kill Viserion and try to make us all believe that HIS MOTHER WOULD FUCK HER NEPHEW THIRTY MINUTES LATER!”

She laughed again.

‘Gods above and below,’ he thought, ‘how much can a person love another?’

“Agree 100% on Viserion, though Jon after Ygrit should’ve just zipped up his pants and close business. You experience that kind of love once in your screentime. And when you do, Martin kills the counterpart off immediately after the big scene. You know that sadist is gonna kill you off, so just spare him the dirty deeds to write.”

“The dirty deeds are the reasons he is taking so much to finish that freaking book. Also, salty much?"

"You dare calling me salty? It’s been years and you still weep over Robb’s body.”

“Excuse you, it is a very fine body. Have you seen Richard Madden lately? With that kilt at Kit and Rose’s wedding? Fine AF.”

She was now scooting over, moving closer to his face to find a reaction.

“Fine, you’re right. But Darling, you know damn well I am attracted to that man, you can’t just casually throw his name around! That would be like me, saying that Misha has aged like a fine whisky.”

“And where would a lie hide in that sentence?”

“ANYWAY. We were talking of something terrifically important.”

He decided to add a Meaningful Pause to give himself some dramatic effect...

“How can you say you don’t ship Jonhlock romantically?”

‘Honesly I love that woman. She is my other half, I would die for her and with her. My life without her has no meaning.

But if her answer doesn’t please me then so help me God I will suffer through a meaningless life with the strength of my ships.’ His mind said.

“I told you before the 'The Hobbit/Game of Thrones' parenthesis. When I read the books I thought of Sherlock as a madman who cared about Watson profoundly, but mostly cares about himself and his work. Someone who doesn’t dwell into feelings, doesn’t really enjoy sexual times and, truly, a modern-day asexual and aromantic asshole with a kink for unofficial police work. Yes, He and Watson are amazing together, and especially with RDJ and Jude Law I saw the sexual tension, which then I also saw in the BBC’s version. But for me, since I read the books first, Jonhlock will always be the exact relationship shown by House and Wilson. Sorry to disappoint.”

She was so close to him, he could smell her shampoo and count the freckles across her nose. She was staring directly into his soul. Rhys was fully clothed in an old tee and some pants and yet he’d never felt more naked.

“You never disappoint me. As a matter of fact, you never cess to amaze me, Feyre Acheron. You are perfect and beautiful both on the inside as well as on the outside. Here I was, looking for a polite way to kick you out of my apartment after you say you don’t ship one of my OTPs and now, here still I am trying not to be drowned into you and trying not to get lost into your eyes and I love you so fucking much that it physically hurts.”

His inner monologue at the time? ‘Fuck. FUCK. What the fuck did I just say???’

She had managed to fry his whole brain with her smart reasoning and perfect voice and now he had ruined a perfect moment by saying cheesy stuff to a girl that didn’t particularly care for cheese.

That was the end of Rhysand Sphera as we all know and love him.

Cause of death: killed by Feyre Acheron as result of saying something completely idiotic.

Only...

“Do you really mean that?”

She sounded hopeful and scared at the same time. The horrors she had to face in the past came running back to her and were written all over her face. Rhys took her hands in his. They were both trembling.

His mouth had probably never been that dry and yet aching to speak at the same time. He could only nod and pray she reciprocated.

That was the moment of truth.

“Of course I mean it. All of it. Each unsaid sentence and each shared glances. Every time I bring you coffee or a send you a picture of a dog that walks into my shop with its owner even though I’m terrified of them. The dog, not the owner. Even though some owners of dogs are terrifying. I have been in love with you for so long, I forgot how it feels not loving you. I look back at those times when you were not in my life and even back then I knew I was missing something. And when he-who-must-not-be-named showed up and swept you off your feet away from me, I was broken beyond repair. But you came back and made me hope that maybe, maybe all my dreams could become true. But you were hurt and also broken, and you needed time to heal. You still do. I shouldn’t have said anything, but you’re just so fucking amazing that I struggle to not scream ‘I Love You’ every time you breathe. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you. I understand if you still need time to heal or would rather be with someone else. But I said it, and I do not intend on taking it back.”

She was kneeling on the couch, her hands still clutching his, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t take it back.”

Rhys thought he had heard what he wanted, so he had to ask, “What?”, a dumbstruck disbelieving-his-luck expression plastered on his face.

“I said don’t take it back. I feel the same way. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you too. I thought you hated me after, well, Tamlin. It is pleasant knowing we reciprocate each other’s feelings.”

Feyre laughed again, breaking the spell between them. Only, now the deed was done. Neither of them could hold their emotions in any longer. Feyre leaned in and so did Rhys, and their lips met halfway in a once in a lifetime, epic romance, Full on Princess Bride type of kiss.

After they both ran out of breath, they simply remained connected in every way possible given their awkward position. Foreheads never leaving each other, hands clasped together, lips barely touching. That spell, though, didn’t last for long. Soon they yearned to touch each other’s skin and feel each other’s bodies.

They were never going to have enough of each other.

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