#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

[rosesncarnations]

The High Ladies of Autumn

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Labyrinth of the Night - Chapter One

She laid broken and bloody in the street one moment and the next she was whole again, but now her humanity was lost forever.

OR Rhys hits Feyre with her motorcycle and in order to save her, turns her into a vampire.

Next Chapter

Read below or on AO3

AN: Hi Everyone! Welcome to my first Feysand fic! I'm trying to complete this spooky fic before Halloween (which I know is under a week, so we'll how well this turns out)

Please be aware that this fic features Sapphic!Feysand. And some Tamlin slander.

CW: Blood, cheating (not main characters)

Mood board made by me :p

Snippet:

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

**

“Feyre, please. This is my fifth time apologizing. Can’t you just forgive me?” Tamlin asked as he watched the young woman stuffing a backpack filled with clothes, some snacks, a tablet, and chargers.

Blue gray eyes glared daggers into his sunlight green ones. She watched him cringe and look away. Feyre’s gaze glanced at a nearby photo frame of them last year around the holidays. Feyre’s smile was so dim while Tamlin’s was bright and big.

“Feyre, I didn’t mean to do this. But what could I have done? You haven’t been home much recently.”

“Do you hear yourself? You just admitted that you’ve been cheating on me with the owner of the gallery that I’ve been working for the last three years. And you’ve been sleeping with her for at least the last two months.”

Feyre continued. “Not only that, but she’s stolen two of my own collection themes in the last year. And when I finally get a spot in the gallery, you end up fucking her!”

“And on top of all of that, two of my painted canvases are missing.” Feyre pointed to the few pieces she had left from her gallery from last week that rested on her unorganized desk. Most of her pieces had been surprisingly bought by an art collector. But there were still some left when she uninstalled her show as it was only running for a short time. 

“Are you implying that Ianthe stole them?”

“They didn’t just walk off on their own!”

Tamlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ianthe warned me about this.”

Feyre sneered. “About what? That you think I’m crazy? That you dove in between her legs without a second thought?!”

“It didn’t start off like that. You were complaining about wanting to have your own collection, so I asked her to give you a spot in the gallery and she said she would think about it. When you finally got your space, you ended up staying so late in the studio.”

Tamlin laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. “I was lonely. And Ianthe was there, and she took care of what I needed.”

Her mouth dropped slightly. “You asked Ianthe to give me a spot in the gallery? The one woman I’ve been working my ass under for years? Did she let you fuck her before or after you asked?”

Feyre held up her hand as Tamlin went to explain. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

Tamlin approached Feyre as she took a step back, closer to the front door. 

“Feyre, this is all in the past now. Your collection finished last week. Now we can focus on our relationship.”

Feyre shook her head. “No. I’m tired of feeling this way, Tamlin! You’re draining everything out of me.” She grabbed her phone off the nearby table, the percentage in yellow as it read under 30%.

“I’m not going to hear you out. I’m not going to forgive you. This was the last straw. I should’ve listened to Nesta.”

Tamlin growled. “Your whore of a sister is a waste of life. You left your family because I provided a future for you. They couldn’t even take care of you.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes expecting more tears, but there was none left in that moment. None left for the man she was in love with. No, the man she thought she loved. When Feyre didn’t answer, Tamlin raised his voice. She hated how her knees buckled slightly in fear.

“So what, you’re going to leave me? Go to your sister? She’s all you have now since your other sister is dead. Do you even know where Nesta is? Is she even still in the state?”

“Fuck you, Tamlin.” 

Quick as she could, Feyre turned the door knob of the front door before bolting out of the townhouse into the rainy night of downtown Baltimore.

**

“Fuck, why won’t you pick up?!” Feyre yelled into her phone as the automatic voice said for a third time that the phone number had been disconnected.

She hadn’t spoken to Nesta in years, not since the morning she left her two sisters in their family home on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

“Feyre, just think about this for one second. You’re barely nineteen. This guy is almost thirty. And you’ve known him for what? A month? Maybe two? Just because dad’s dead doesn’t mean you can just make any and all stupid decisions.”

“Oh shut up, Nesta. I want out of this awful house. I hate everything about this house!”

“No you don’t, Fey. You’re being a child.” Nesta stated as she went to reach for Feyre’s hand.

“No! I’m not staying in this house for one more second. I hate it! I hate you!” Feyre yelled.

Instantly Nesta stepped back and for a fraction of a second Feyre swore there were tears in Nesta’s eyes but in a flash, they were gone.

“Fine, go with your boyfriend. Do whatever the fuck you want. Why would I care?” Nesta sneered as she turned her back before heading back inside, slamming the front door.

“Fey, Nesta is right on this. Can’t you just stay for another month or two. You’re young,  and we haven’t even met this guy yet.” Her other sister, Elain said. 

Elain stood slightly timid from the heated exchange of her sisters. Her big doe eyes pleaded with Feyre.

“Please, Fey?”

“No. I’m not staying here. I need out, Elain. Go see Nesta or something. She needs to be comforted more than I do.”

Feyre watched as her second older sister shook her head in shame before she stepped back and went back into the house. This time the front door shut quietly, but the quietness was drowned out by the loud squeals of tires as a car stopped at the curb of the front yard.

“Ready to go, Thorns and All?” A man with long blonde hair said as he peered from the driver seat. He used Feyre’s username from reddit.

“Rose Court?” Feyre asked. She blushed slightly as the man stared a bit too long at her chest.

“The one and only. But like I said in our text, call me Tamlin, Felicity.”

“It’s Feyre.”

“Right, sorry. The trunk’s opened so put your bags in there. Hurry up too, I want to beat all of the traffic on 50 and 95.”

The thought of Elain painted Feyre in pain. Her sister had died in a freak accident with her car falling off the Bay Bridge into the shallow waters of the Chesapeake. Her body was never found, and Feyre never went to the funeral.

“It’s tragic, but your sister didn’t help take care of you, right?” Tamlin asked, knowing the answer.

“Ellie is my sister, and she’s dead.” Feyre sobbed into his chest.

“I know, Thorns. But listen, she never took care of you, so why waste your breath on her? Let her soul rest. Maybe we can visit her gravestone when the commotion has died down.”

She died over two years ago, just a year after Feyre moved out. No matter how hard Feyre tried, Tamlin wouldn’t let her go visit. Elain’s graves was in their hometown of Berlin. He always mentioned the bridge was dangerous and that they’ll go together at some point but they would have to take the long route of cutting through Delaware to get there.

But they never did.

Feyre also never got her licenses and from Baltimore city, that trip was at least two hours one way by bus and standard traffic. Tamlin would notice if she was gone too long. And if he didn’t know where she was at all times, he would freak. He would accuse her of cheating on him. Ironic.

The rain was only pouring harder as Feyre reached the Inner Harbor. It was late enough that some of the stores had closed, but a few restaurants and bars were still opened. Feyre glanced at her phone again seeing the battery at 15% now.

“Shit.” I need to get to a bar fast to charge my phone.

Feyre thanked every star that she ended up buying a waterproof backpack a few months ago. She was caught in the rain one night as she went from the studio to the townhouse.

I don’t even know if the house is still there in Berlin. I don't even know how to get a hold of Nesta.

Feyre didn’t want to think of the reality that she literally had no one in her corner. For the last three years it’s only been Tamlin.

Don’t cry! Crying makes everything worse. Focus, Fey! I can cry later. 

Not far from her, a nearby bar’s lights shone brightly in the darkness of the city sky. Feyre felt hope flutter in her chest. She picked up the pace wanting to get there as fast as possible. It was reckless to ignore the red stop light for pedestrians, but the sooner she was out of the rain, the sooner she could come up with a plan.

But then a bright light engulfed her before she felt her body leave the ground. Dazed by the rain clouds as her body smacked into the asphalt of the road, broken and bloody.

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

**

Rhys knew better than to be speeding down the streets of Baltimore, but to be fair she needed to be back in Frederick before the morning and still had to make a few stops in Catonsville and Ellicott City before she could venture home.

Driving the motorcycle seemed pointless to her cousin. She always asked her why ride it when they were just as fast, if not faster.

Rhys didn’t want her cousin to be peering too closely into her thoughts so she mentioned technology had evolved over the centuries, so should they. But what Rhys withheld from her cousin was that riding was one of the closest things she felt to being human again.

And now that feeling was stripped away as an almost dead woman laid feet from the crosswalk.

“Fuck, fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rhys ran over to the woman and her eyes widened just a bit. “Darling, are you hurt anywhere?”

The rain poured over their bodies but Rhys saw the familiar blue gray eyes that she’s seen every day for the last two years, only these eyes didn’t glare at her, but stared in wonder as they took in their final sights.

“Nesta is going to kill me” Rhys mumbled underneath her breath.

She pulled the woman into her arms. The rain had diluted some of the spilled blood already. Rhys held her breath for a moment, trying to soothe the ache of her hunger clawing at her throat and mind.

“I’m not letting you die today, Feyre darling.” 

Then Rhys leant down to Feyre’s neck and sunk her fangs right near the fading pulse.

[motherrstorm]

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE CHALLENGE!

LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE

[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✧

[ae-neon]

And perhaps

If you had lived

And I had stayed

We could have grown old together

In that house by the lake

Nesta x Clare

I'm not a poet, don't come for me

[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 :)

[hrizantemy]

It’s the way I biblically need Nesta with a woman maybe from the Hewn City, maybe she’s a lady and maybe Nesta gets sent down there and they meet and they can spend the rest of their days being nasty and mean like people think they are. Mean lesbians? I think yes.

[zoyaalinas]

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

[rosesncarnations]

Sapphic neris has me in a chokehold

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Labyrinth of the Night - Chapter Two

She laid broken and bloody in the street one moment and the next she was whole again, but now her humanity was lost forever.

OR Rhys hits Feyre with her motorcycle and in order to save her, turns her into a vampire.

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AN: Hello Everyone! I'm happy that so many people have showed interest in this fic <3 Writing Feysand as a main couple is still new to me, but I've been enjoying them. I may have bitten off more than I could chew with trying to complete this by Halloween, which is in four days :p But we'll see what I can do!

Please be aware that this fic features Sapphic!Feysand. And some Tamlin slander.

CW: Blood

Mood board made by me :p

Snippet:

“Now, if I let you go, promise not to bite?” The woman, Rhys asked.

“Fuck you!” Feyre growled. “Oh this will be so much fun.”

**

The light, it was blinding. Then a woman with black hair and purple sky eyes was helping Feyre. The strange woman, who resembled an angel’s beauty, begged her not to die. 

But why would an angel tell someone to live?

Then the pain came. It pulled at Feyre from her mind to heart as she felt almost like her soul had left, but before she could pass finally, something entered her body. A high that was so unnatural it couldn’t be from any kind of drugs.

Feyre closed her eyes and felt as though her body was floating. There were several voices now as the ambient sounds of the city disappeared. Eventually a familiar presence was near her before it faded away.

Suddenly a dull ache impacted her mind. She felt this way before, but never to this extent. The ache pounded into her mind, her stomach, even her legs. Everywhere in her body, Feyre could feel it.

It was hunger. 

Shooting out from the bed, Feyre fell onto the dark wooden floor. A panic strummed from her mind as her head whipped around in the windowless room. The walls were painted a forest green. Where am I? She glanced down to see she wasn’t in her overall pants and sweater anymore. Instead she wore a gray long sleeve and leggings.

What the fuck? 

The panic evolved into a deep settling fear when a voice cleared. Peering up from the floor, Feyre’s head peaked over the bed to see a blonde woman sitting in a loveseat sideways, her legs dangling over the arms of the seat. Some of her hair was pulled back and clipped with a large red bow that matched her long sleeve dress that hit around her thighs.

The woman swung her legs over, standing up. Black pumped heels and a red lip smile made their way across the room. She didn’t walk fast, but almost cautiously, as if Feyre was a monster.

“I’m so glad you’re up, Feyre.”

The fear squeezed in Feyre’s chest. “How do you know my name?” She glanced around the surroundings again. “Where the fuck am I?”

The woman offered a gentle smile. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but I need you to trust me, okay?”

She placed her hand over her heart. “I’m Morrigan, but call me Mor. You were in an accident and my cousin brought you to our home. We had a family doctor that looked after you.”

Feyre groaned as she cradled her head. The blinding bright light as the rain came pouring down in the streets of the city. The flashes of memory caused her to clench her teeth.

“What do you want from me? Where am I?”

“We’re on the outskirts of Frederick. We live right on the Potomac river.”

“I was just in Baltimore last night.” 

Was it last night? How long have I actually been here?

“Rhys brought you in almost a week ago. Your body was gravely injured during the accident.”

Mor held out her hand to Feyre. “Like I said, I need you to trust me. I’ll answer anything you want, but first I need you to do something for me.”

Feyre peered at the hand with a gold wedding band and a diamond ring paired with it. Her palms were sweaty as her hand trembled. It was no use in fighting her, there was something with Mor that felt different. Like she was a lot stronger than she looked. Reaching up, Feyre took Mor’s hand before she was pulled on her feet.

“Great. Now.” Mor reached over to the night stand, grabbing a solid bottle with a straw and lid.

“You probably feel a little weak with nothing in your system. Drink some so you can feel a little better.”

Feyre took the cup raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Mor pursed her lips. “A protein shake. My cousin made it. She says it helps anyone recover from a hard hit like that.”

The ache from her hunger that woke Feyre up curled in her stomach. Her mouth felt extremely dry, to the point that her tongue felt almost like a brick. She glanced at Mor who gave her an encouraging smile. Feyre nodded before taking a sip.

Whatever protein shake that she was drinking had to be the most divine thing Feyre ever tasted. It was on  the cooler side of room temperature. They must have made this not long before I woke up. The liquid was thick and usually Feyre wasn’t big on thick smoothies, but this one just hit the spot. Probably because I've been knocked out for days now…

Frustration lingered as Feyre felt the drink start to have less and less. Her hunger only craved more. Without much thought, Feyre tore off the straw and lid, drinking the rest away. Mor made a sound, But Feyre ignored her as she drank until there was nothing left. She felt the liquid drip from the cup, down her neck.

The cup slipped from Feyre’s hand, colliding to the floor. Swiping a finger, Feyre brought the remaining drips of the drink that spilled down her neck to her lips. However an unfamiliar red stopped her in her tracks. The liquid was dark red, an almost exact shade of blood. 

Am I bleeding?

Instantly Feyre reached for her neck, feeling the sticky drink that spilled down her neck. But then she felt something that wasn’t there before. Two small scab-like wounds were right near the pulse in her neck. However there was no pulse underneath her fingertips.

Gasping, Feyre marched over to a nearby mirror. She looked the same at first, but all over her neck and mouth was blood. It had gotten stained on the shirt she wore. Lifting her hair, Feyre saw two small marks in her neck. But when she glanced up, her eyes scared her. For they were no longer the blue gray that belonged to her mother. Instead they were a bright red as if she was a monster from a campy horror film.

“Shit.” Mor mumbled underneath her breath.

She approached Feyre. “Feyre, I need you to relax. I’ll explain what’s going on.”

But Mor’s voice was drowned out as Feyre began to hear beyond her. Chirps from owls on trees yards away, cars driving on roads that somehow Feyre knew wasn’t close by, but could hear the tires and engines like it was down the street.

Her tongue flicked to her teeth when she yelped. Something pointy scraped along her tongue. Looking back in the mirror, Feyre flashed her teeth seeing fangs where her canines were supposed to be. Whipping her head back, Mor was now standing closer to her, another hand reaching for her.

Fear gripped Feyre’s stone like heart when a bloody scream erupted from her lips. Terror rang through her screech as her back hit the mirror. As she stared at Mor, she saw the familiar sight of fangs peeking from her lips. Mor came closer, a look of worry on her face. She had held up her hand but the second she did that, another scream erupted from downstairs.

The scream was so loud she winced. Were screams always this loud or was it only now? Then Feyre heard more yells and curses from the floor underneath. The merge of voices blended together, but one stood out in the sea of curses. One that she hadn’t heard in three years since she left her hometown.

“Nesta.” Feyre whispered. But how?

Quickly she reached for the door, but Mor grabbed her wrist.

“I know you want to see your sister, but it’s not safe downstairs. You need to stay up here.”

Feyre shook her head. “I’m not listening to another word.” 

Before she knew what happened, Feyre yanked Mor’s grip off her. But by doing so, Mor fell onto her back. Feyre’s gaze widened as she looked at her hand before tearing the door practically off its hinges before running into the hallway. The control of her limbs was almost non-existence as she ran more like a foal than a human. Or whatever the hell I am now…

In seconds Feyre went from the upstairs hallway to the floor below. Running into the living room Feyre stopped in her tracks. The room appeared normal with a couch that easily could fit eight to ten people and a tv that had football on. Glancing away, Feyre saw a man, possibly a few years older than her, bop his black shaggy hair to the music in his airpods as he played on his Nintendo Switch.

Taking a few steps into the room she tried to process everything around her when another man appeared in front of her.

“Feyre Archeron in the flesh. What a delight.” The man said as he eyed the blood that was still on her neck. From head to toe, he was dressed in black. His shirt was unbuttoned showing warm brown skin with scars and black swirl tattoos that peaked from the opening. His golden hazel eyes that glowed, locked onto Feyre. 

But his eyes weren't what made Feyre afraid. It was the gray dust horns that spiraled similar to a ram’s that were attached to his head. He must’ve sensed her fear as he grinned showing his teeth. Over his shoulders were giant bat-like wings.

“What the fuck is happening?” Feyre asked as she backed herself against a wall.

The man with horns wore an apologetic smile. “To quote one of my favorite masterminds - a lot is going on at the moment. But don’t worry, all should hopefully make sense soon enough.”

“How do you know who I am?” Feyre demanded, her shoulders tensing.

As the man opened his mouth to explain, two women appeared in the porch light from outside the closed glass door. The two women seemed to have been arguing back and forth. One of them she could hardly make out with the light blocking her features. But the other woman, who stood with her back towards the door, seemed oddly familiar.

Her raven black hair that shined an almost violet sheen was braided in a fishtail, the hair resting slightly above the end of her back. How do I know you? Feyre narrowed her eyes but before she could do anything, the woman stepped inside.

When she turned around, a playful smirk danced along her lips as familiar twilight sky eyes seemed to have glowed at her. 

“Darling.” She purred. “I’m glad to see that you’re awake.”

Feyre gasped, a hand coming to her lips, then traveled to her neck where her scabs were.

“You. You were there the other night–”

Lights flashed, tires screeched, rain poured onto the pavement that drowned Feyre as she laid broken and bloody. Those twilight sky eyes appeared frantic as she begged her not to die. But then the scene flashed and she was somewhere else with her. Not in the rain, but inside, under fluorescent lights. Feyre winced as the memories poured into her mind. They were standing together, a swarm of voices drowning them out. Feyre tightly squeezed her eyes before opening them again.

“A slightly unfortunate error on my end. But on the bright side.” She smiled, fangs similar to Feyre’s shining. “You’re safe.”

“And not dead, technically .” The man with horns chipped in.

Before Feyre could say anything, the other woman from the porch came inside. A few golden brown strands coiled around her face while wearing a witch hat as she glared.

“You turned my sister into a vampire you fucking leech! You were only supposed to help me rescue her and now she’s one of you–”

Feyre froze as only a few feet away from her, was Nesta. In the three years since she had last seen her, she looked, well she looked really tired. There were purple bags underneath her blue-gray eyes, the same as Feyre’s, or were the same as her’s. She seemed slightly fuller in frame compared to three years ago. Nesta wasn’t bulky as her muscles seemed more enhanced than before.

Nesta whipped her glance to Feyre who mirrored her expression. They nearly butted heads all of the time growing up as the two sisters were cut from the same cloth. Feyre always saw Nesta as someone who seemed so much older than she actually was. Four years between their ages, making Nesta twenty-five. 

But in front of her now, Nesta seemed so much younger. Her eyes welled with tears and she pushed past everyone, pulling Feyre into a hug. Instantly Feyre hugged her back, not remembering the last time Nesta showed this level of affection voluntarily.

“You’re here. You’re actually here.” Nesta mumbled into her hair.

Feyre forgot how Nesta was just slightly taller than her as there were a few inches between them. So many questions rolled over in Feyre’s mind. Emotion gripped her throat and mind as she tried to figure out the next piece of the puzzle. 

Then the wind blew from the opened door, and suddenly, the ache of hunger returned. Feyre could hear her sister’s pulse as they embraced. Her neck was in reach as Feyre felt her fangs draw down. But before she could lean up to take a taste, a sudden force pushed Feyre back against the wall. The force was strong enough for a picture frame or two to knock down.

The woman with black hair smirked as she tsked. “Naughty girl.” 

She gripped Feyre by her throat as she struggled against her grasp.

“Cassian, get Nesta and Azriel out of here. The house needs to be restricted to just vampires for now.”

“Rhys you can’t just take me away from my sister. I’m staying right here.” Nesta argued even as her eyes reflected something that Feyre had never seen her show before. Fear.

“Sorry Sweetheart, but those are the boss’s rules.” Cassian, the horned man, said.

“You’re my patron! Can’t you convince Rhys?”

Cassian shrugged. “Not today, Sweetheart. Not when your life could be at risk.” 

He threw Nesta over his shoulder as if she was just a pillow. She yelled at him, hitting and kicking his body. Cassian seemed to have not cared as he called out for someone else.

“Az, let’s go.” Cassian called out.

The first man that Feyre saw walked past her, unphased as Cassian pulled him in with his free arm before the three took off, flying into the night sky.

“Now, if I let you go, promise not to bite?” The woman, Rhys asked.

“Fuck you!” Feyre growled.

“Oh this will be so much fun.”

**

Rhys’ smirk stayed across her lips as she watched Feyre struggle against her hold. Newly turned vampires are always a hassle to deal with. But this one has piqued my interest tenfold. 

“Let go of me!” Feyre shouted, fangs descending from her growls.

The beats of Cassian’s wings had long disappeared into the wind, so Rhys shrugged, taking her hand off Feyre. Putting her hands in her back pockets, Rhys tilted her head at her.

“What a beautiful, fearsome creature.” Her gaze lingered on Feyre’s face, counting the freckles that appeared across her nose and cheeks.

“Creature? I’m a human!” Feyre snapped.

“You were. Now you’re a vampire.”

Feyre shook her head. “I’m not a vampire! This is all just a bad dream!”

Rhys grinned. “Really now? Pray to God right now then. If this isn’t real, God will wake you up.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Whenever humans felt fear they prayed to God, or really any higher being to protect them. Pray, outloud.”

Feyre’s body shook before she took a deep breath, clasping her hands together. She began to mumble when Rhys cleared her throat. “Outloud, remember.”

Feyre glared at her before she leant her head down. “Go–” Then she began to cough and choke.

Gasping from the pain Feyre looked at Rhys for an explanation.

“A vampire is a damned creature. And damned creatures cannot say a holy name, like God.”

Astonished, Feyre yelled “But you’re saying it!?”

Rhys shrugged. “Took almost a full century to build the tolerance of the pain. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

She watched as Feyre trembled slightly. Her body slowly slipped to the floor. The impact of the change settling into her.

“I’m really a vampire.” 

“You are. But let this be known, Feyre. I wasn’t about to let you die. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

“You’ve been stalking me too?”

Rhys eased herself onto the ground, sitting in front of Feyre. She was careful not to disturb her bad knee.

“By definition of a stalker, I haven’t harassed you. But I’ve been watching you though.”

“For how long?”

The question caught Rhys off guard. I was expecting her to ask why or even cry…

“For about a year now. Your sister came into contact with us asking us to help rescue you.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes “Rescue me from what?”

“Feyre Darling, did you know that Tamlin Thorne is a vampire hunter?”

Feyre’s eyes widened as she shook her head no. “He’s a what?”

Rhys sighed. “He comes from a long line of vampire hunters. Although he can kill more than just vampires, it’s what he’s known for.”

“No, I didn’t know.” Feyre admitted.

“I figured. He kept his secret well hidden.”

The newly turned vampire looked around the room, as her eyes landed on the photo that fell. It was a picture of all them, including Nesta and Cassian. Gently Feyre picked up the frame, examining the selfie that Mor took a few months back when her, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys were in a game of blackjack. 

“It took two years for Nesta to find me?”

“Not exactly. It’s not my story to tell, but your sister has been devilishly busy since the last time you saw her.”

“The man with the horns.” She asked, moving to another subject.

“That’s Cassian.”

“Right, Cassian. Is he also a vampire?”

Rhys chuckled, noting the pink on Feyre’s cheeks. “No, he’s a demon lord from Hell.”

Feyre blinked. “He’s a demon?”

“Very much so. Although I would tone down the heart eyes and drool when he’s around. It’ll just feed his ego.”

“I did not have heart eyes and I didn't drool!” 

“Could’ve fooled me, Feyre Darling.” Rhys playfully smirked.

Right as Rhys went to say something more, familiar footsteps padded down the steps to the kitchen where they sat.

“Oh, you got her.” Mor said, slightly out of breath.

“I forgot how strong new vampires are.” Mor added before going to the fridge.

Feyre sat up, a look of worry across her face. “Did I hurt you?”

Mor waved her hand. “Not at all. Just took me by surprise.”

“Nice of you to join us, Cousin.” Rhys said nonchalantly.

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Mor mumbled before leaving the fridge with three blood bags in hand. She sat in between Feyre and Rhys as she handed them each a bag. Rhys instantly took a straw from Mor and drank her bag in mere seconds. Her shoulders relaxed, licking her lips.

“What is this?” Feyre asked as she held the cold bag in her hands.

“Ironically it’s B+.” Mor giggled before plunging a karat straw into her’s.

Feyre quickly drained the bag, sucking it dry. Then she looked from the bag to Rhys, her expression not of hatred, but not quite sadness. “You ran into me the other night, in the rain?”

“I did. Although, it was a poorly timed accident. It was hard to see through the rain and before I knew it, you ran through the crosswalk when it wasn’t your turn to go.”

Feyre flushed. “I guess it was partially my fault for not looking both ways.”

“Nonetheless, the change isn’t easy. I’m sorry for taking that choice away from you, but I couldn’t let you die. Not when we were so close to saving you.”

“Tamlin was an asshole, but you’re speaking as though he’s tried to kill me.”

“Well…” Mor mumbled.

Rhys glared at her cousin. Mor just rolled her eyes in response.

“What do you mean by that?” 

Mor pointed to Feyre’s chest. “It’s complicated, but according to your sister, the Archeron line desindes from a powerful mage.”

Feyre’s eyes widened before she glanced down at her hands. “Do I have magic?”

“Not one bit. Nesta told us that no one in your family actively had magic. However the blood of a mage is something that attracts the paranormal like vampires and werewolves. Even the fae as well.” 

“Wait so how does this tie into Tamlin and me?” Feyre looked between Rhys and Mor.

“From what we gathered, Tamlin would use you as an almost magnet. Nothing could enter the townhouse since it’s heavily warded, however whenever he would leave he was oftening killing someone.”

“But if I’m related to some mage, why didn’t anything or one try to attack me when I was at the gallery or the studio?”

“You lived not even a block away from the studio and the gallery as they were in the same building, right?”

Feyre nodded. Rhys sighed, picking the invisible lint off her clothes. A bad habit that after centuries hadn’t died yet. She felt Feyre’s gaze on her and put her hand down in response.

“The space between the townhouse and the gallery is guarded by someone else. Someone no one has dared to go up against.”

“Who’s got this world so afraid?”

“Does the name Ianthe Pleasurefief ring any bells?”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “My boss? What does she have anything to do with this?”

“Literally everything, Feyre.” Mor answered, looking at her nails.

“But how?”

“Ianthe the Pleasure Thief has guarded that part of Baltimore for centuries, even before the namesake of the city. Anyone who has not been personally invited by her will burn to ash.”

“What the actual fuck are you two trying to say?” Feyre asked.

“Feyre Darling. You’ve been working for a dragon for the past three years. Her title is Pleasure Thief as she takes pleasure in stealing all kinds of goods and adding it to her hoard.”

“Did she ever steal anything from you?” Mor asked, tilting her head.

Feyre’s eyes went out of focus as her mind ran through Mor’s question. Appalled, she looked back at the two of them. “She did. I had a few ideas for past collections that she stole, and during my own collection, I didn’t sell everything. When I brought everything home, I noticed two paintings were gone from the stack that didn’t sell.”

“But how did I not know she’s a dragon?” Her hand’s combed through her hair, fingers twirling the strands.

“I would’ve known I was working with a dragon.” Feyre added.

“They have some of the strongest magic in our realm. Her glamor is very powerful, especially on humans.”

“Does Tamlin know about her being a dragon?”

“We’re not sure, but we suspect that he knows something, but probably keeps her close to him for things he needs.”

Feyre scuffed. “Yeah, like sleeping with her.”

Both Rhys and Mor mouths dropped slightly. He did what?

“He cheated on you?”

“That’s why I left that night. I was done with his bullshit…”

Feyre then looked between them as she came to a realization. “He just let me go when I left the other night. He was downplaying him cheating on me.” She bit her lip. “Was he trying to have me killed since he didn’t go after me?”

When I get my hands on the fucker, he’ll beg me to kill him to put him out of his misery. But Feyre can do the honors if she so wishes.

Rhys stood up, offering a hand to Feyre. She took the offer, being pulled to her feet.

“You’ve been through a lot, Feyre. More than anyone should. There’s a lot that needs to happen for your new life. A lot to be taught and learned. But for right now, let’s get you back upstairs. Even as a vampire, you still need to rest.”

“Well I’m glad that’s not taken away.” Feyre joked.

“That’s only taken if you want it to be.” Rhys winked at her. She smirked slightly at the blush that glowed among Feyre’s freckles.

“Come on, I’ll show you back to your room.” 

Rhys didn’t mean for her hand to stay in Feyre’s, but she would be lying if she said she despised it. 

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed):

[motherrstorm]

nesta archeron, the closeted gay that you are ❤️🩷🤍🧡.