#you think feyre was spoiled in italy?

[starfall-spirit]

Renaissance Masterlist

AN: Make sure you read yesterday's chapter if you missed it!

Word Count: 1175

CW: Implication of sex. Nothing on page.

Epilogue

Six months later

“Rhys? Sorry. I know I said six tonight, but my last buyer was being a little difficult and…” She trailed off as she found him on the couch, still dressed in his work suit for whatever reason, a glass of red wine in hand, her own set on the coffee table between them. She tossed her coat and scarf over the couch arm, shaking off the New York winter. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She curled into his lap, smiling as he jolted slightly at her cold hand sneaking under his untucked shirt. “Cruel woman.”

She reached for her wine glass. “Something smells good.” 

“Dinner’s keeping warm in the kitchen. Once you defrost we can eat something. And then I have another surprise.” Her smile grew to a smirk and he pinched her side. “Not that.” He nipped her earlobe. “Yet.”

“And while I defrost?” she purred, carrying his usual confidence as she set down her wine with every intention of sinking to her knees in front of him.

He caught her hands halfway down, raising them to his lips. First the right, then the left, his lips linkering a second too long. “You can defrost in your dinner seat. Grab your glass.” 

She narrowed her eyes, but followed him to the table. Whatever he had to tell her must really be important. He had cooked a dinner of seared pork and carbonara. Over the past six months he had been showing off an impressive skill set in the kitchen that she hadn’t expected from him when they first met.

“So, tell me how commissions have been. You haven’t talked much about your work.”

There was a rough start to her art sales and commissions. When people realized her boyfriend had been the first to invest in her art, despite the two of them knowing the work came before the relationship, her credibility was naturally questioned. Once a few pieces got out, though, commissions boomed.

“Everything’s great. There are picky customers, of course, but it’s been wonderful. I’m so happy to be out there. And with my own studio. I suppose I have you to thank for that miracle.”

“All the work is yours, Feyre. You would have gotten there eventually.” her face heated and she began tracing her finger around the lip of her wine glass. “Feyre.” She froze. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

She did. And some days that still felt impossible to swallow. She knew all of her friends were proud of her in one way or another, but the constant praise Rhys provided could be… overwhelming. He leaned over the corner of the table, kissing her temple. “My Feyre.”

She sighed, about to take the next bite of her dinner when a tiny sound intruded on the peace of their dinner. Almost like… “Did you leave a video on in the back?” Rhys winced as a second meow was heard, this time more persistent. “Rhys? Why is there a cat in the house?” 

The next cry was closer to a yowl, followed by a soft thunk against the door. He wiped his mouth, preparing to explain the situation, likely. Unfortunately for him, Feyre was already down the hall, raising a hand to open the door a crack. Out leaped a ball of black fur.

“You adopted a kitten? What’s his name?”

“Bryaxis. He fell asleep just before you got home.” Rhys kept talking, but she didn’t hear a word after that. Because around his neck was a collar, not just holding a name plate, but a silver ring cradling a sapphire stone. Rhys strolled down the hall before crouching down beside her. “I know my first proposal wasn’t all that romantic, but I figured this might do the—”

She tackled him, his arrogant comment cut off with a kiss. Slow and deep and endless. He rolled so her back hit the hardwood. “Is that a yes?” She smiled. “Feyre, say the words. Tell me you’ll be my wife,” he all but begged.

She sobered at that. “I said no the first time.”

The starlight she  found in his eyes guttered. “And now?”

“Now, I want to thank you. For giving me the time to come out of it all. To heal from my past. And I want you to know that I would be honored—honored to be your wife.” He let out a ragged breath. A broken laugh followed it, muffled by her shirt as he pressed his face to her shoulder. She stroked his hair. “I love you, Rhys. More than anything in this world.”

“And I love you, Feyre darling. To the end of our days, through every adventure I’ll love you.”

“Good. Now tell me, what possessed you to adopt a kitten?”

He unhooked the ring from the collar, easing it onto her finger. “Well, he was cute.” She chuckled. “Please tell me you don’t actually want to talk about a cat right now.” He pressed a kiss to her throat. “After all the teasing you started this evening with, it would just be cruel.”

“Well… I did have another thing or two in mind on the way home.” He groaned against her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against him. “After all, you were the one who told me to stop.”

He carried her to their bedroom, his fingers digging into her waist as she put her lips and teeth and tongue to work on his neck. There would undoubtedly be a bruise or two for their friends to tease him about tomorrow. She gasped as her back met the hard wall rather than the bed behind them.

“I believe you mentioned something the other day about fucking me so hard the pictures fell off the wall. Are you as good as your word?”

“Still fully dressed and saying such vulgar things, darling.” She unlocked her legs from around his waist and started to strip her shirt. “Stop. That’s for me to do.” Instead of finishing the task she started, he swept her back into his arms to take her to the bed. “And I’m not fucking you against the wall. Not tonight, Feyre.” 

Peeling her out of her studio clothes, he showed her just what tonight was meant for.

~~~~~

She’d said yes. By some miracle, Feyre Archeron agreed to marry him. He’d shown his gratitude by worshiping every inch of her body. He’d do it again and again, every day for the rest of his life. But in that moment all he wanted to do was hold her close, breathe her in. “I love you, Feyre. More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too. You know…”

“What?” he asked, already reading the hint of trouble in her voice. She was after something.

“Well, you took a young artist to Florence for a fake honeymoon. Where will you whisk your wife away to, hm?”

He laughed, full and free, pulling her a little closer. “My Feyre.” He kissed her hair. “Have I ever mentioned our property in Paris?”

“I’m listening.”

~~~~~

AN: We have reached the end. For those of you who stuck around, thank you so much. I will be marking the fic as complete on ao3, but keep your eyes open. I might just be inspired to write a bonus chapter in Paris!

Taglist: Reach out to be added or removed.

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @elentiya-whitethorn // @gwynkyrie // @acotar-fanns

[starfall-spirit]

Renaissance Masterlist

Each SJMRW fic is connected to a romantic/emotional song.

Day 3: Beyoncé’s Halo

SJMRW Prompt: Honeymoon

Word Count: 1174

Summary: A marriage façade leads to a destination honeymoon in Florence, Italy. Vacationing in the Tuscan hills shows Feyre there's more to Rhys than meets the eye—maybe even a man she could come to love.

Chapter III: Walk Me Down the River

“Have you fucked yet?”

“Mor!”

The soft clicking of Rhys’ laptop halted and a smirk played at his lips. Feyre doubted he could hear his cousin from across the room, but he wasn’t stupid. There was a reason her face was rapidly reddening and it had everything to do with a filterless blonde they both loved to pieces.

The past two days had been blissfully free of prodding as they recovered from their jetlag and settled into the villa-a magnificent space they had all to themselves for the next two weeks with plenty of room for them to decide if they wanted to avoid each other or share their meals and free time. But ignoring Mor’s call would only encourage thoughts her friend obviously had no hesitation in voicing to the world. Feyre shook her head, forcing herself to dismiss that playful smirk and the man who wore it as Mor’s cackle grated in her ear. Marching down the short hall, she shut the door to her room, flopping back on the massive bed. 

Seeing as this not-so-surprising destination had been focused on the family villa, the space was as cozy as it was grand and she and Rhys were comfortable in separate rooms, no matter what his family may think they were doing here day in and out.

“This is not the conversation I wanted to end the day on, Mor.”

“Why not? You’re two attractive people alone in one of the most romantic cities on the planet and you’re telling me the last thing on your mind is sex?”

“W-well, it certainly isn’t the first.” 

Feyre was there for the history. Maybe part of her was avoiding Tamlin, too, but that had nothing to do with the man in the next room. That had to do with a restraining order Cassian was doing her the favor of handling. Though part of her had raged when he suggested she run off and relax with Rhys while he and Az handled securing her apartment, she was grateful in retrospect. Old bruises healed, but the emotional damage was something else. 

Not ready to let herself slide down that thought path, she shook her head. “Look, Mor. We’re going out for dinner tonight and we’re going to start looking into some things in the city tomorrow morning. Can I let you go and finish getting ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun. Love you.”

“Love you. Bye.”

Fifteen minutes later Rhys gave a soft knock. “Hey, are you off the phone?”

She opened the door. “Sorry, I got distracted. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“I can’t say I’d blame you if you did. Whatever implications Mor was making—”

“Where are we going for dinner?”

He hesitated after having his defense cut off. “There’s a nice little restaurant we used to go to when I was a kid. We can get a quiet table there.”

She smiled, hand on the doorknob. “Give me five minutes.”

~~~~~

He was going to spoil her senseless.

Of course he first had to convince her to let him spoil her. Only a few days into this charade and she’d fought any and every offering beyond the most simple engagement band she could find.

Whether it was a matter of pride, a lingering way of living from her childhood, or something else entirely, Feyre Archeron refused to take from people. Which was half the reason he tucked his card and tip into his dinner menu before their waiter could sweep it away. “I saw that.”

“Would you have let me pay otherwise?”

“We aren’t actually married, Rhys.”

“My mother has every intention of rectifying that in a matter of months, if I recall. You needn't act so stubborn.” 

Something lit in her eyes and Rhys couldn’t help but smirk. He liked to play and Feyre rarely disappointed. Before she could give whatever clever retort was brewing, their conversation was interrupted by the restaurant’s namesake. “My goodness, it is you, Rhysand.”

“Hello, Sevenda,” he greeted her in Italian. 

“Why, it’s been nearly ten years now. How are you?”

“Busy in America,” he admitted, switching back to English and encouraging Feyre to join them. “Which is where I met my lovely Feyre. Mother’s gift to us was a couple weeks in the family villa for our honeymoon.”

“A short stay, then. It’s good you speak to your family again. We’ve missed seeing you with them these summers.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t count myself as a regular vacationer yet.”

Feyre gave his hand a firm squeeze as his voice dropped a pitch. Rhys hadn’t given her the specifics of the relationship he carried with his father, merely explaining that the two of them had never seen eye-to-eye. Rhys got out from under his thumb, and all that was stopping Josiah from cutting him off entirely was knowing his mother would walk away, taking Avy with her. He was very much a believer of “till death do us part”. If she walked… Rhys’s arrogance and posturing was a shadow of his fathers. He would not let his own pride ruin him as a man.

“Well, these things take time.” Sevenda gave a shaky smile. “Anyways, tonight’s meal is on the house for you. My congratulations. And Feyre, it was lovely to meet you. Welcome to Santo Spirito. I’m sorry, I must be going. Customers. Busy night.” 

“Of course. Thank you so much.” She flitted to the next table on the patio and the two of them sat again. “She was nice,” Feyre murmured. 

“It was Mor and my favorite place to go when we were younger. You know her father was as bad—worse than mine, even. Maybe it was the mirth of this place that made things easier. Maybe the assholes just wanted to keep up a perfect image, but those summers were the one part of my childhood with him that was… well, it felt a little less like I was a thing for him to groom to his ideal future.”

“I’m glad you had that, Rhys. You deserve it.”Again, she squeezed his hand. “For what it’s worth, I really want this to be easy for you.” He furrowed his brow. “This can’t go on forever. I just hope it doesn’t blow up in your face.”

“Me too.”

With food and wine in front of them the conversation lightened to brighter stories of Rhys childhood here and then further strayed to the random. And in the course of an hour Rhys realized just how much he was slipping. 

Every second he spent with her was another he—

“Feyre, would you like to end the night on the Arno?” She cocked her head, standing from the table as I pocketed my wallet. “The Arno is one of the main rivers of the region,” he informed his partner, offering his arm as escort and tour guide. “There will be shops and sights along the way if you feel like browsing. Or we can just walk.”

“For now, I think a walk will do.” 

~~~~~

AN: It isn't midnight here yet, so I'm on time!

I know I promised smut for day 3, but Feysand is getting a whole lot of fluff before the 🌶️🌶️🌶️ comes around. Don’t worry, it won’t take too long. I doubt this fic will be more than 10 chapters.

Feysand Tag List: Comment/ask/message me if you’d like to be added or removed.

@sjmromanceweek // @reverie-tales // @pandavelaris // @faeriequeensuriel // @s-uppertime