This Model Is Ethereal

This model is ethereal

Feyre's night court attire ✨

@backtobl4ck @writtenonreceipts, and any others who’d like to add: Fanfic canons/prompts??? I don’t have any ideas lmao

Open for ACOTAR, TOG and Red White and Royal Blue

THANK YOU

<33333

If this ain’t a scene….

modern!au where the band of exiles+elain go to a bar, get wasted, and the night ends with Lucien singing Don't You Want Me on karaoke while making intense eye contact with Elain

This was so heartwarming 💗💗🥰

Summary: Rhysand comforts Nyx after he encounters a creative crisis. Just a short father-son bonding fic.

Notes:

-In honor of it being Father's Day last weekend, I present to you Rhys being the best dad in Prythian.

-Post-canon universe

-Fluffy one shot

Word Count: 1256 AO3

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Rhysand felt a surge of star-flecked darkness identical to his own go through the River House Manor in the early hours of the morning, briefly rattling the windows and shaking the floor as he sat at his desk reading a memo from the Winter Court.

"Nyx," he sighed, running a hand through his raven hair. Just like himself, the boy was an early riser, and just like Feyre, he had a temper. Their son was still learning to control his growing power, and when distressed, he loses control of his darkness before he reels it in a second or two later. He just hopes Nyx didn't wake his mother up.

As he felt Feyre's lovely light within the bridge of the mating bond, he realized it was too late. She was stirring awake. She was as attuned to Nyx as he was, much more so. Before his exhausted mate could get up from bed to check on their 8-year-old son and whatever caused him to be upset, he whispered to her with a soothing voice he hoped would lull her back to sleep, "I'll check on him, Feyre darling. Sleep and dream of me."

"Mhmmm okay," Feyre relented too easily, clearly wanting to sleep more, and added, "then come back to bed after."

Rhysand chuckled, sensing the palpable annoyance his mate felt waking without him at her side, and promised her, "I will," before she dozed off and he got up from his chair.

Rhysand didn't need to follow the retreating darkness to know where Nyx was. He knocked twice on the ajar door, letting Nyx be aware of his presence, before entering his bedroom. He found their son still in pajamas with his ruffled hair, sitting on a stool, hunched over a blank canvas, and covering his face with his palms. His wings drooped low as a few remaining tendrils of darkness and stars swirled around him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he asked, "Is everything alright, Nyx?"

Nyx turned around to face him, and at the sight of his father's concern, he blinked away the darkness, letting the sunlight streaming through the wide, open balcony shine into his bedroom. "Yes, dad, I'm sorry. I'm just—" he trailed off, looking down at a discarded brush smudged with blue paint staining the white carpeted floor. The paint brush was one of a kind, lovingly engraved with Nyx's name on the handle—a gift from Feyre for their son a few years ago when he wanted to paint just like his mom on his fifth birthday.

Rhys knelt down, picking up the brush with one hand and snapping a finger with the other, cleaning the brush and returning the carpet to its pristine condition. "Are you having a bad painting day?" he asked gently, handing over the brush.

Nyx nodded, cradling the brush against his chest. "How does mom do it perfectly, dad? I see a picture in my mind, but when I paint, it's all wrong." His shadowed blue eyes pointed to two similar abandoned paintings resting on the floor—a silhouette of Azriel and Cassian training with swords during dawn. He admired his uncles and wanted his painting to do them justice. He didn't think they did.

Rhysand gave a comforting smile. He wasn't sufficiently versed in painting techniques, but he knew Nyx paintings were beautiful and exemplary for a fae youngling. However, Nyx was a perfectionist, and Rhys understood the desire to get everything as planned. "Your mom doesn't always get it right, Nyx." He gave another smile. "Don't tell her I said that."

Nyx raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"No," Rhysand said, lightly pinching Nyx's freckled nose. "She practices and practices until she does everything right."

Nyx's face turned into awe for his mother until his self-doubt made him glum. "But what if I never get it right? What if I am never able to paint what I see in time? How do I not lose the picture in my mind?"

Rhysand shook his head. "I don't believe for one moment that you cannot achieve anything you want in life, Nyx, and that includes painting your vision in your head."

"Dad..." Nyx whined and frowned over the praise.

Rhys chuckled at his son's reaction and added, "But I suppose this is where being Daemati comes in handy."

"Really?" Nyx perked up, standing and extending his wings in excitement. "How? Show me, dad, please."

Rhysand could never deny him anything, and so he stood up too and extended a hand, which Nyx took immediately. A talon hand gently tapped at Nyx's mental shields, and Nyx let them drop, letting his father into his mind.

Nyx's mind was wondrous. A starry night sky enveloped them as countless open storybooks floated about, flipping through pages of happy memories he held dear since he was a babe and every day after.

It wasn't the first time Rhysand was invited into Nyx's mind, but it stunned him every time he saw it. A sense of heartwarming peace came over him, knowing that their son has yet to endure any pain or suffering in his life. Outwardly, Rhysand rubbed his chest, and Nyx held his hand tighter.

Remembering the task at hand, Rhysand instructed, "Carve out a new space in your thoughts, Nyx, and in that space imagine a big enough chest to store all the pictures you want to keep safe from forgetting."

Nyx shut his eyes and concentrated hard until he projected them both to a darkened corner of his mind before turning it into a snow-covered pine forest. In its clearing in the middle stood a magnificent open chest made of starlight. "Like that, dad?"

"Like that," confirmed Rhysand. "Good job," he said, beaming with pride and admiring his son's work.

"Now what?" asked Nyx eagerly.

"Now, Nyxie, imagine all the pictures you see in your mind neatly tucked away inside this chest you created for safekeeping," Rhysand said, pointing to the empty space inside the chest.

As soon as his father left his mind, Nyx's eyes fluttered open and shone brightly with stars. "Thank you for everything, dad," he said, smiling adoringly up and hugging him tight. 

Nyx did exactly as his father instructed, and soon the chest was half-full. Rhysand wasn't surprised because Nyx was as creative as Feyre was, and so he gave one last piece of advice as he watched Nyx shut the chest closed before leaving his mind. "As your ideas grow, my love, you can make your treasure chest grow with them, whether or not you choose to paint them and share them with the world one day." Outwardly, he dropped a kiss on top of his head and uttered, "Though always remember your mom and I would be endlessly proud of you either way."

When Rhysand finally joined Feyre in bed, he found her sitting up waiting for him with tears in her eyes and a soft smile on her face. "Oh Rhys."

"You heard?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

Caressing his strong, muscled back, she simply said, "You left the bond open. How could a mother resist?"

"Our beautiful darling boy will be okay, Feyre. No need to fret."

"I know, my love, because he has you as his father, and I thank the Mother for that."

Rhysand blinked back grateful tears, and Feyre kissed him sweetly and tenderly as they slipped back under the covers, dreaming away the rest of the early morning.

Thank you for reading! 🩷

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Taglist friends: @the-lonelybarricade @shallyne @msfeyredarling @sideralwriting @s-uppertime

If you want to be removed from the taglist don't hesitate to let me know. It's been a while since I used it. 🥰

I love this!! It’s so freaking adorable, I need more from other characters 🥰🥰

Rhysand's camera roll