#sapphic nesta

[hrizantemy]

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW

Nesta lay in bed, her body feeling heavier than ever, as though the weight of the world had pressed her into the mattress. Days had passed, blending together in a haze of muffled sounds and dim light filtering through the drawn curtains. The silence was her only companion, punctuated occasionally by the faint echoes of life happening beyond her door.

She turned her head slowly to the side, her eyes landing on the figure beside her. The girl, who had kept her company through these endless days, was tangled in the sheets, her body a mess of graceful disarray. Her wild hair fanned out across the pillow, an auburn halo that framed her sleeping face. There was a serene innocence to her features, softened by the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Half of the blanket had slipped to the floor, leaving her exposed to the cool air, yet she remained blissfully undisturbed.

Nesta’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in the contrast between her own turmoil and the girl’s peaceful slumber. She marveled at how someone could sleep so soundly, so untroubled, when the world outside felt so relentlessly unforgiving. The girl had stayed with her, never once complaining, through every bleak hour and dark thought that threatened to consume Nesta entirely.

A sense of gratitude, rare and fleeting, flickered within Nesta. This girl, with her messy hair and calm presence, was a lifeline in the storm that raged inside her. Nesta reached out, a tentative movement, and gently pulled the blanket back over the girl’s shoulders, tucking it around her with a care that surprised even herself. She sighed softly, her hand lingering for a moment on the warmth of the girl’s arm, before retreating back to her own space.

With a measured breath, Nesta began to ease herself out of bed, careful not to disturb the girl sleeping beside her. She moved slowly, her limbs stiff from the days spent in stillness. Her movements were deliberate, as if she were performing a ritual she had repeated countless times before. She had, in fact, done this so many times that she had memorized the positions of every creaky floorboard in the room.

As she shifted her weight to her feet, the bed barely stirred, the girl’s breathing continuing undisturbed. Nesta glanced down at the tangle of sheets, ensuring they were arranged in a way that wouldn’t rouse the girl. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a silver glow on the scene, adding to the hushed tranquility of the moment.

Her bare feet met the floor with practiced precision. She stepped lightly, each move calculated to avoid the well-known creaks and groans of the old wooden boards. One step, then another, she navigated the room with the skill of someone who had lived within these confines for a lifetime. Her eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, her mind tracing the map of safe spots she had etched into her memory.

Nesta paused near the door, casting one last look back at the girl. Her companion lay undisturbed, the blanket now snugly covering her, rising and falling with her steady breaths. There was something almost sacred about the peacefulness that surrounded her, a stark contrast to the turbulence Nesta felt inside.

She let out a slow, silent exhale and turned back to the door, her hand hovering over the handle. The metal felt cool against her fingertips as she turned it with care, pulling the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. Once in the hallway, she closed it just as gently, sealing the quiet sanctuary of the room behind her.

It was early morning, though the sky remained a deep, velvety black, with only the faintest hint of dawn on the horizon. The house was shrouded in silence, the world outside still asleep. Nesta moved quietly through the dimly lit kitchen, the familiarity of her surroundings providing a small measure of comfort. This had become her ritual, a semblance of routine amidst the chaos that plagued her mind.

She set a kettle on the stove, the soft hiss of gas igniting beneath it breaking the silence. As she waited for the water to boil, Nesta gathered her tea leaves with methodical precision, each motion deliberate and careful. The ritual of making tea was grounding, a series of small, manageable tasks that brought her a brief respite from the constant turmoil within her.

The kettle whistled softly, and she poured the steaming water over the leaves, watching as the rich, amber liquid swirled and settled in the cup. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, savoring the heat against her cold fingers. The steam rose, carrying with it the faint, soothing scent of the tea, and Nesta breathed it in deeply, hoping to calm the storm inside her.

She carried her cup to the small table by the window, settling into a chair that had become her sanctuary in these quiet, solitary hours. She never really slept anymore. Instead, she remained awake, her mind too restless for the comfort of dreams. Occasionally, she would lose herself in a book, finding temporary escape within its pages. More often, though, she simply sat, sipping her tea and letting the silence envelop her.

In her darker moments, she had turned to stronger substances, seeking oblivion in a bottle. But she had been trying to do less of that, less of a lot of things. It was a struggle, a constant battle against the urge to numb herself, to escape the weight of her thoughts. Tonight, though, she had managed to resist, choosing tea over spirits, and for that, she felt a small measure of pride.

Nesta supposed she should have been more concerned about the girl currently occupying her space, but her mind had been too clouded to care when it all began. She had met the girl at a tavern, one of the many dimly lit, smoky places she frequented when the nights grew too long and the silence too suffocating. The memory of their meeting was hazy at best—admittedly, she had been blacked out for most of it.

Imagine Nesta's surprise when she came to, not in the tavern or some unfamiliar bed, but hunched over her own toilet, retching with a ferocity that left her trembling. And there, holding back her hair with a gentle but firm hand, was the girl. Nesta had been too busy expelling the contents of her stomach to question it, the whole scene surreal in her muddled state. When she finally managed to lift her head, weak and disoriented, the girl had assured her that nothing had happened while she had been drunk.

At first, Nesta had taken those words at face value, too exhausted to probe deeper. But the girl had stayed, even after the sickness had passed and the daylight had broken. She had stayed, helping Nesta to bed, bringing her water, and simply sitting with her through the worst of it. It was a strange thing, to have someone care without expecting anything in return. Strange, but not unwelcome.

Over time, the girl’s presence became a fixture in Nesta's life, and the initial surprise gave way to a reluctant acceptance. Perhaps Nesta needed something—someone—to fill the void that alcohol no longer could. The girl obliged, not just with her company, but with a quiet understanding that spoke volumes in the spaces between words. There were nights when Nesta couldn’t bear to be alone, and the girl was there, a silent companion in the darkness.

It wasn’t long before Nesta realized that she wasn’t the only one seeking solace. The girl, too, seemed to be using Nesta, perhaps for the same reason. They were both lost, two broken souls clinging to each other in the hopes of finding some semblance of meaning. There were no promises, no expectations, just a mutual understanding that sometimes, the presence of another was enough to stave off the darkness.

Nesta didn’t deny that she and the girl had been physical with each other. In those dark, quiet moments when the night seemed to stretch on forever, they had found solace in each other’s arms. It had started almost accidentally, a desperate, shared need for warmth and connection that transcended words. Nesta had never thought much about what it meant, and she didn’t think the girl did either.

Their encounters were not marked by grand declarations or promises. There were no whispered confessions or plans for the future. Instead, they simply fell into a rhythm, a natural progression of their shared existence. In the evenings, they would sit together, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about nothing of consequence. When the nights grew too cold or the loneliness too sharp, they would find comfort in the closeness of their bodies.

Nesta found that she didn’t need to analyze it, to label what they were or what they were doing. It was a rare thing for her, to let something be without dissecting it, without trying to control or define it. But with this girl, it felt natural. They continued like normal, their days marked by an unspoken understanding that extended beyond the physical. They both needed this, and that was enough.

The girl never pressed for more, never asked for anything Nesta wasn’t willing to give. In return, Nesta offered her what she could—companionship, a shared space, and those moments of physical intimacy that kept the encroaching emptiness at bay. They didn’t talk about what it meant because it didn’t need to be talked about. It simply was.

And so they continued, falling into an easy, unhurried routine. The girl would wake before Nesta, making tea or sometimes breakfast, and Nesta would find her in the kitchen, a silent, steadfast presence. They would spend the days as they always did, each finding small ways to fill the hours. When night fell, they returned to each other, drawn by a mutual understanding that neither could put into words.

The quiet creaking of floorboards, certainly not as discreet as her own careful steps, pulled Nesta out of her thoughts. She glanced up, just in time to see the door opening slowly, revealing the girl. The sheets hung haphazardly around her, barely covering her as she made her way to the kitchen. Nesta watched silently, her gaze following the girl’s every movement.

The girl went about making herself a cup of tea, the clinking of the kettle and the rustle of tea leaves the only sounds in the stillness. She moved with a sleepy grace, as if the weight of sleep still clung to her. Nesta said nothing, and the girl, too, remained silent. Their unspoken understanding filled the space between them.

The girl joined Nesta at the table, sitting across from her with her tea. She seemed engrossed in the simple act of drinking, her eyes occasionally drifting to the window. The world outside was still dark, with only the faintest promise of dawn on the horizon. Nesta, book in hand, resumed her reading, though her attention was divided.

The girl’s presence was a quiet comfort, a steadying force amidst the turmoil of Nesta’s thoughts. She sipped her tea slowly, her fingers curled around the warm cup, her eyes reflecting the dim light. The sheets had slipped further, but she made no move to adjust them, seemingly content in her casual disarray.

Nesta turned a page, the soft rustle blending with the girl's occasional sips. There was no need for words between them; their silence was filled with understanding. The girl looked out the window again, her expression contemplative, and Nesta wondered what thoughts occupied her mind. But for Nesta, this was enough. She continued to read, letting the rhythm of their shared silence settle over her like a comforting blanket.

[pearblossommina]

i think the valkaries should all have a threesome

it's the bonus chapter we deserve

[motherrstorm]

sarah janet maas had no business making nesta archeron end up with a man. that girl is so obviously gay, that she broke my unbreakable gay-dar. and to make matters worse, she ended up with the straightest-most vanilla-gymbro-dick rides his homies-has no boundaries with his girl best friend-can't go one paragraph without thinking about her tits-emotional range of a toddler-man. no one can convince me that the author actually likes her.

[rosesncarnations]

The High Ladies of Autumn

[ladydeath-vanserra]

hello??? HELLO???????

art credit: inkfaeart

[glossamerfaerie]

Idk if this is wishful thinking, but the priestesses/Valkyries exude sapphic vibes. Roslin and Deidre?? Ananke?? Ilana?? ANYONE?!! 👩‍❤️‍👩 You’re telling me that this female fighting cohort doesn’t have a single romance yet. Not on my watch!

I know a couple of them sighed whenever Az walked by… maybe they’re bisexual! But I feel very strongly that someone is in a friends-to-lovers journey right now in the Library.** 🥹

Imagine if two priestesses have been in a relationship the whole time (like, DECADES) but haven’t advertised it because they want privacy. Then one day someone gets injured during training; her partner FREAKS OUT and rushes to help, peppering kisses everywhere. Cassian and Azriel are SHOOK, questioning their observation skills. Nesta is like, “okay, is there anyone else sleeping together who wants to tell us?” and TWO OTHER couples awkwardly raise their hands. Emerie is like 👀 and Gwyn just grins (she’s known the whole time, obviously, cuz of her superior sense of smell). 🧡🤍🩷

___

** obviously Gwynriel are in a friends-to-lovers journey, too!

[velarisnightsky444]

masterlist

Go to the updated masterlist, because this one is old and doesn't have everything.

UPDATED MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Full Length Fanfics

Dark Paradise(ACOTAR) (nesta x azriel's sister) Stargirl(ACOTAR) (azriel x rhys's sister) Cherry Blossom(ACOTAR)(feysand x tamlin's siser) Where The Spirit Meets The Bone(FOTA)(nicasia x cardan's sister) Not All Glass Shatters(Shatter Me) Diamonds Can Kill(The Hunger Games) Violets for Roses(The Society) It’s A Scream Baby(Scream)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Azriel:

smut: So Close Mating Frenzy

fluff The First Taste

angst Spoiled Little Princess

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Eris

series: Scorched Shadows

smut: Little Fawn

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

headcannons: none yet

random: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nesta

smut: Look At Yourself

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Feyre

smut: Good Girl

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Elain

smut: Pretty Little Thing

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Lucien

smut: Greedy Little Fox Love

fluff: none yet

angst none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Morrigan

smut: Stay Still The Birchin

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Cassian

smut: The Headboard

fluff: none yet

angst: The 1

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rhysand

smut: The Mess You Caused

fluff: none yet

angst:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

POLY/SHIP FICS

if it says “x reader” its a poly fic, if it doesnt, its just the two characters. (feyre x rhys, nesta x cassian, ect)

Feysand:

smut: Punishment(Feysand x Reader) Caught In Between(Feysand x Reader)

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nessian:

smut: Pathetic(Nessian x Reader)

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Gwynriel:

smut: Shut Her Up(Gwynriel x Reader)

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Elucien

smut: Teatime

fluff:

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Emorie:

smut: Somewhere More Private(Emorie x Reader) Desperate(Emorie x Reader)

fluff: none yet

angst: none yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[goddessofwisdom18]

I ship Amren and Merrill 🤭 Just two bitches who love history. They definitely already know each other and had a fling a couple centuries ago. Or they hate each other (and there’s sexual tension underneath that). I’m betting on it.

[zoyaofthegardvn]

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Hi everyone! Welcome to Zoyaofthegardvn's 2023 Kinktober masterlist :) I'm getting a pretty late start to this, so this will surely extend past October. But here's what you can look forward to this year... <3

Links will be added as they are written and posted :)

Day 1 - Face Sitting: Mor x reader

Day 2 - Spanking: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 3 - Praise: Zoya Nazyalensky x reader

Day 4 - Somnophilia: Nesta Archeron x reader

Day 5 - Brat Taming: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 6 - Overstimulation: Nesta Archeron x reader

Day 7 - Thigh Riding: Elide Lochan x reader

Day 8 - Pussy Eating: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 9 - Virginity: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 10 - Mommy Kink: Mor x reader

Day 11 - Edging: Nesta Archeron x reader

Day 12 - Make Up Sex: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 13 - Anal: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 14 - Toys: Elide Lochan x reader

Day 15 - Brat Taming: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 16 - Hate Sex: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 17 - Double Penetration: Zoya Nazyalensky x reader x Alina Starkov

Day 18 - Strap on: Zoya Nazyalensky x reader

Day 19 - Knife Play: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 20 - Shower Sex: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 21 - Scissoring: Alina Starkov x reader

Day 22 - 69'ing: Mor x reader

Day 23 - Semi-Public: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 24 - Period Sex: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 25 - Threesome: Manon Blackbeak x reader x Elide Lochan

Day 26 - Bondage: Mor x reader

Day 27 - Choking: Nesta Archeron x reader

Day 28 - Exhibitionism/Voyeurism: Manon Blackbeak x reader

Day 29 - Virginity: Elain Archeron x reader

Day 30 - Breast Worship: Elide Lochan x reader

Day 31 - Outdoor Sex: Zoya Nazyalensky x reader

Please be patient as I make my way through this very long list! I'm really looking forward to getting started, but I am a slow writer <3 I am also imagining these fics will be on the short side as I'd like to be able to get through everything! Thanks everyone for your enthusiasm :)

[midnightmasterpiece]

I have 2 pages of this idea, I’m almost done with my sapphic genderbent elucien F1 au fic, should I write this one next?

Cause like I can think about this in my head for free, but like bestie or anyone else, would it be worth to write a Neris F1 au? Any interest?

[safirefire]

“Marigold laughed then—what is so wrong about being a bitch? It is the closest a girl can be to a wolf”

-Sydney J. Shields, The Honey Witch

[hrizantemy]

Fairy of the Bog

She was no longer flesh, no longer bone. Her body felt hollow, a twisted mockery of life. The blood that once coursed through her veins had turned to something vile, black as rot. Her skin, once warm, now throbbed with the wrongness of death, an aching emptiness that made her want to tear herself apart. It was a hunger, a pull to things that should not be alive, a desire to claim and break.

Her fingers curled into the kelpie’s lifeless head, cold and slick with the bog’s water. The creature’s once-gleaming white flesh was now a dull, mottled gray. His black eyes stared at nothing, no longer filled with rage or fear.

Nesta held the head like a prize, her grip firm and unwavering. The dead were all around her, their whispers fading in the deep, ancient song of the Mask. The bones of warriors, long lost to the earth and water, rose in the stillness of the dark bog. They were hers to command now. She could feel them, a slow pulse beneath her skin, waiting for her word, waiting for her will to move them.

She did not need to say anything.

[zoyaalinas]

Guys if I write a Manon x Nesta fic how many of you will genuinely read it

[motherrstorm]

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE CHALLENGE!

LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE

[rosesncarnations]

Sapphic neris has me in a chokehold

[lesbian-in-leather]

Top 5 Books and Top 5 lesbian characters from any media.

Top five books/book series (because I can't choose):

Carmilla

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Discworld series

The Handmaid's Tale

The Great Gatsby

Top five lesbian/sapphic characters:

Greta (A League of Their Own)

Catra (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Grace Berk (Why Women Kill)

Amity Blight (Owl House)

Mor (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Ask me my "top five" anything!