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secretlynestaarcheron · 7 years

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N.E.I.G.H.B.O.R.S Pt.8 // Fanfic

Modern Friends AU // Nessian

Shoutout to @illyrianwings-nightcourt

The One With The Wedding Planning

“So tell me again why I am coming with you?” Nesta asks, as Cassian and her walk down the street towards the bakery. “I feel like picking out a wedding cake is a thing you should do with your fiancee.”

“She had a meeting and she says these kinds of things stress her out,” he replies with a shrug as he opens the door for her. Nesta glances around the bakery which looked like it was taken straight out of a bridal magazine.

“Ah the happy couple! You look very cute together!” an old lady says, as she walks around the counter. Neither of them have time to correct her because she ushers them both into another room. “I have already set out the a few samples. This is our chocolate chip cake with a chocolate mousse filling.”

Cassian takes a seat and eagerly takes a bite. “This one is amazing, here Nes take a bite,” he says, holding out the fork for him to take a bite. She leans over and takes a bite. She notices a flash in the corner of her eye and jumps back wiping the chocolate off of her face.

“Didn’t mean to startle you dear, we like to take a picture of every happy couple that visits us,” she says, putting the camera down and handing the next piece of cake to Cassian.

“Oh, we aren’t together. I am just his neighbor,” Nesta mumbles. The baker frowns and glances between the two of them.

“I have an eye for these kinds of things and you two are definitely going to be picking out a wedding cake of your own someday,” she replies. Nesta frowns and shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“I think I like the chocolate one better,” Cassian says, completely oblivious to everything besides the cake.

“So which was your favorite?” Cassian asks as they walk back towards his car. He doesn’t wait for her to respond before saying, “My favorite was definitely the chocolate with the chocolate mousse.”

“Yeah, that was really good. So is that the winner?” Nesta asks.

“No, I think we will probably go with the lemon and vanilla,” he replies, and Nesta can hear the disappointment in his voice. “Claire doesn’t really have a sweet tooth. She likes fruity things more than chocolate.”

Nesta frowns, “How about both?” she suggests.

“Claire’s been freaking out about spending a lot of money on this so she wants to with as little as possible,” he says.

“How about you do what Rhys and Feyre did and have a small wedding with just close friends and family?” Nesta asks .

“I already suggested that but she wants to invite all of her old high school friends, “our” college friends, her coworkers, and her old sorority friends,” he replies, and Nesta can hear the frustration in his voice. “It’s fine, it’s supposed to be her day.”

Nesta stops walking which causes him to stop too. “That’s one of the stupidest things I have ever heard you say, Cassian. It’s your day too. You should be getting things both of you will enjoy. You shouldn’t sacrifice your happiness for hers.”

“Yes, I should. That’s what boyfriends do,” he says.

Nesta runs a hand through her hair as she thinks about what she’s about to say. “No, getting married is about compromising, your going to be spending the rest of your life with Claire. Do you never want to eat chocolate cake again?”

“Nes, just let it be, okay? I appreciate your help today but your not my therapist,” he says, and continues walking.

“Back to the drawing board,” Cassian exclaims, barging into Nesta’s apartment and dropping the “Giant Wedding Binder Full of Dread and Anxiety” onto her kitchen table.

Nesta, who had just crawled out of bed and was still in her pajamas, took another sip of her coffee before saying, “When I gave you the spare key to my apartment it was for emergencies not for you to barge into my apartment at-,” she pauses to look at the clock on her oven. “7:34 in the morning.”

“Well, Claire stopped by this morning and finally took a look at everything we did and went through what she did and didn’t like,” he announces, beginning to pace her kitchen.

She sets down her coffee and walks over to him, grabbing his arms to stop him from moving. “You need to calm down. Let’s start out with that she did like,” Nesta states, opening the binder up to the first page. “So what did she like?”

“Nothing,” he retorts, taking a seat at her table and running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Nes,” he confides. Nesta feels guilty for the way her hopes rise at the thought of him calling it off. “I love her and I want to marry her but she just keep saying no to everything. Why is wedding planning so stressful?”

Nesta bites her lip before speaking, “It’s just a day. It’s one day and then you’ll have the rest of your lives. Besides, you have me here to help so it won’t be too bad.”

“I know, but don’t you think it’s a little weird that I am planning my wedding with my neighbor and not my future wife?” he spats, and Nesta is taken aback by the way he says neighbor. She knew they had their ruff patches but she thought they were at least friends. He must see it on her face because he quickly adds, “I didn’t mean it like that. I am glad I have your help.”

“It’s fine, it’s totally understandable that you would want your fiancee to help pan your wedding and not your neighbor. What you said was the truth,” she replies in her stoic defense she always gets when she feels like she’s losing something she held dearly. “What do you want to start with? I have two hours before work.”

She watches as he debates with himself mentally before saying, “Flowers. She wants roses.”

She nods her head and looks down at the flower cut outs they had. She didn’t want him to see the disappointment she had on her face that he didn’t fight for their friendship. Why would he? Once he was married she would probably never see him again.

Two posts in one day. Go me.

#Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfiction #n.e.i.g.h.b.o.r.s

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bookofmirth · 7 years

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Lionhearted - Part 2 (nessian fic)

Summary: The day of the wedding, Nesta tries to deal with what she saw Cassian doing at the pub the night before. She also has a special gift for Feyre on her wedding day.

Notes: ok I have a list of people to tag: @arielle-reads @bookswillruletheworld @illyrianwings-nightcourt @christina-dh @illyriancrown @sussurrosliterarios (it won’t let me tag you aghhhh!!!)

This was going to be two parts, but now will be at least 3!

Part one : Part three : Part four : AO3 for comments : rated M : TW for attempted sexual assault mention

******

The next morning, Nesta’s alarm went off at a highly inconvenient hour, considering the amount of alcohol she had consumed. There was the hotel bar, and then the restaurant, and then the pub… She moaned into her pillow, the throbbing in her head deep and familiar from her college days. It was nothing she couldn’t work off if she could find a bottle of water and some ibuprofen, but… her nostrils flared, thinking back on what she and Cassian had said and done. Putting that conversation behind her would be a different kind of challenge.

There was no way she could face him today, but she would do it, she had to, for Feyre’s sake. She would be in the same room with him, if not interacting directly, and she would just have to deal with his rejection. Or at least, what she assumed was his rejection, given the woman from the night before. Bile rose up in her throat at the thought of her hands on Cassian in that hallway, and she quickly swallowed it down.

She’d had no reason to believe any differently of him, to have had expectations that he might not be the type of guy to do that. But it still hurt to confirm her initial suspicions.

Heaving herself out of bed, Nesta showered, threw on clothing and grabbed her bridesmaid dress and make-up bag. She needed to get to Feyre’s hotel soon, to help her prepare for her wedding. Maybe later, when it was all done and she could leave, she would come back here and try to work out how she felt about Cassian. For now, though, he was just one more person who could threaten her calm exterior, and so needed to be avoided.

When she arrived at Feyre’s hotel room, it was a din; Mor and Elain were circling Feyre, fussing after her hair, her make-up, her dress, calling out orders to some of the other women in the room. Amren sat back, an amused grin on her face, and… was that a glass of red wine in her hand, at this hour? Nesta blinked. Well, she supposed, it was a celebration, and certainly many of the usual social conventions could be suspended for that. However, she suspected that Amren was not one to be concerned about that type of thing no matter the situation, and her estimation of her sister’s friend went up on principle.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Nesta plunged into the flurry of preparations, plastering a thin, tight smile on her face at the chorus of greetings that met her as she walked in. She went straight to Feyre to say hello, and then made her way to the edge of the room. Taking stock of the motions and energy in the room, she slipped quietly to the bathroom to change into her navy blue dress. Feyre had let her pick the style, just requesting the color, for which she was grateful.

When she had changed her clothing, she smoothed the fabric, the cotton sheath hugging her body and falling just below her knees. She left her hair in a simple chignon at her neck, and as she finished putting on her make-up she rolled her eyes at the giggles coming from some of the… simpler of her sister’s guests. They were mostly women they had known before; friends of the family before they had lost their fortune, women who now pretended that Feyre had been on an extended vacation in Biarritz, rather than dealing with an abusive relationship, and poor, to boot. If she’d had her way, Nesta would have banished them all from the wedding for being shallow hypocrites, but this was not the day for making that sort of declaration. She knew that Feyre couldn’t stand it any more than she could, but she, like Elain, wouldn’t cut ties with their father and his friends as easily as Nesta would have liked. Not yet, anyway.

When she left the bathroom, Nesta took one more look around the room before deciding to let Elain and Mor stay in charge, attaching herself instead to the calm that surrounded Amren. She took a necklace from her purse and held it in her hand, waiting for a moment when she could be alone with Feyre.

The minutes passed and she watched Feyre getting ready for her wedding. Elain was in her element, surrounded by friends and making decisions about how this curl should lie just so, whether or not the bouquet was arranged appropriately, discussing the poses they should ask the photographer to capture. And Mor was there to make sure that enthusiasm didn’t override taste, for which both Feyre and Nesta were eternally grateful. They all worked so well together and Nesta felt herself becoming nearly comfortable. As if perhaps this new state of things might not turn out to be so horrible. If only they could stay like this, in this hotel room, and she didn’t have to see Cassian or her father at the wedding.

She groaned internally, wishing she also had a glass of wine but not wanting to drown her sorrows as if she were incapable of working through them like a rational, adult-like being. If she could just concentrate on the scene before her, she might be able to ignore the fire inside. The fire that came from wanting to yell at Cassian for being such an ass, for letting her down, but also wanted to pin him against a wall and…

He was also a part of this new milieu, a startling contrast to the old guard that she had grown to detest. And as much as she might want to dismiss him for good, a part of her wondered, hoped, even, that she had misinterpreted what she had seen the night before. Bitterness rose in her throat at memories of other times when she had counted on someone who cared for her to show that they actually… cared.

The incident with Tomas had been shocking, though in hindsight Nesta felt like she should have known. She should have known that he was like that, that he would take it poorly, and she shouldn’t have ended their engagement in private. She wondered what she could have done differently, if she had provoked him in some way, other than breaking off their engagement, while understanding that he was not, had never been, the kind of man she should have let into her life.

She told everyone that she wasn’t ready for marriage, but that wasn’t quite the truth. The realization that she could never marry him had come the moment he had dismissed what Tamlin had done to Feyre. The moment she understood that Tomas was… taking Tamlin’s side, and that he wouldn’t stand up for her sister if she asked him to. She didn’t know the details at the time; she and Feyre weren’t exactly on familiar terms until last week when she had shared the particulars of what had happened - but Nesta knew enough to spot excuses when she saw them. That Tomas knew Tamlin, what he was capable of, that their relationship had been turned into little more than gossip that her fiancé was more than willing to spread without defending his future sister-in-law.

It had been a slap in the face. To see that unwillingness to stand and fight for someone who deserved it, who needed to be defended. And that it was someone close to her, however complicated their relationship might be, reinforced the fact that Tomas reminded her far too much of her father for her to marry him.

And then when he had pulled her back to him with enough force to rip her shirt, looked at her with that disdain and greedy hunger before pressing his lips into hers so hard that his teeth cut her… She had born the bruises for over a week, the shape of his fingers imprinted into her and she wanted to be sick at the sight of them. She had brought her knee up between his legs, leaving him panting and clutching himself as she walked away on shaking limbs. She hadn’t seen him since. It was months ago, and it felt like yesterday.

Her finger ran absently over the shape of the pendant in her hand. Another set of memories threatened to surface, but she shoved them back down.

A glass of wine might not be such a bad idea, after all. But no, they were already ready to leave, and Nesta was torn from her thoughts by the sudden movement towards the door, the sound of chatter becoming even more excited. And far, far too energetic considering the hangover she was still nursing. She stood, letting everyone pass her by as she waited for Feyre.

“Feyre,” she said quietly, hoping she would be heard past the echo of giggles coming down the hall as everyone else left ahead of them.

Feyre turned and looked at Nesta, questioning. They were left alone in the room while Feyre held the short train of her dress off the floor.

“I have something for you. It was mom’s. I kept it. But I want you to have it. For the wedding.” In her hand Nesta held out the thin silver chain, hung with the pendant she had been fingering. It was an unevenly-shaped U, with small points along its curve. “It’s a constellation. The Northern Crown.”

Feyre took the necklace from Nesta’s palm, tears threatening. “Nesta, thank you. I barely remember this. She was… you were older and I don’t remember things as well as you do, and…” Her voice trailed off.

“I’ll tell you about it later. But we have to make sure you get to the church on time.” Nesta embraced Feyre quickly, her expression remaining as unreadable as ever.

“Thank you, Nesta.” Hooking their arms together, the two closed the door behind them, and made their way to the church.

****

Feyre’s wedding to Rhysand was beautiful, as could be expected. Nesta had stood across from Cassian as part of the bridal party, trying to concentrate on the vows and her sister. She was far more attentive to Feyre’s needs than usual, in an attempt to keep herself from looking in his direction. Her small bouquet of violets and fern fronds was held solidly before her and she stood straight, watching everyone but Cassian.

Rhys was clearly in love with Feyre. Anyone who could see the way he looked at her, or hear the way he spoke his vows, could see that. And Morrigan and Azriel couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. She had to be prodded to give Feyre the wedding band when the time came, so Nesta didn’t doubt who they would gather in a church for next. Even Elain and Lucien were exchanging shy glances, her from her place behind Mor at the altar, him sitting at a bench on Rhysand’s side.

And Nesta refused to meet Cassian’s gaze, even as he stood facing her, behind Rhys. She had been grateful that they weren’t paired to walk to the altar together, though he had clearly been trying to get her attention since she had arrived.

After the ceremony, everyone walked together down the block to a larger restaurant where the reception would be held. Feyre was glowing, and Rhys looked at her as if there was nothing else in the world, nothing that could tear his eyes away from her for more than a second. Ahead of her, Azriel was whispering something in Mor’s ear, their hands entwined and a small smile permanently etched on her face. Nesta’s stomach twisted, with the satisfying and bitter realization that Tomas never would have looked at her like that, the way that Az and Rhys looked at Mor and Feyre.

****

Hours later, when she had finally gotten over her hangover and thought she had made it through the day, Nesta found herself back at her hotel room. During the reception everyone else had either paired off, or gone home, or danced, and she had found herself alone at the table the wedding party had been assigned. Their father had made a toast, insisted on dancing with Feyre, and then promptly left after barely attempting to speak with her. Nesta would have rebuked him, and they both knew it. Better to avoid pretending, and she was glad he had come to the same conclusion on his own.

Cassian had tried to sit next to her, to speak with her, but a quick, piercing glance at him had him going the other direction. Her heart sunk at that a bit more than she wanted to admit. But she was prepared to put this day, and Cassian, behind her, and so she made her way back to her hotel room after seeing Rhys and Feyre off on their honeymoon.

Collapsing onto her bed, Nesta considered her plans. The next day she would get up, and she would go home, where she would soon return to work at her law firm, and she would do her best to see Cassian only when necessary. Like holidays, or company gatherings, or family vacations, or… With a grunt of frustration, she punched her pillow.

Her bouquet sat in front of her on the bed and she ran her fingers absently over the smooth petals, the fronds tickling her palm. The image of Cassian’s lips pressed against hers made its way to her unwillingly and she decided to indulge, just for a moment… The thought of his hair brushing her forehead, the way he pressed her back but held her up at the same time, waited for her to give only what she was willing… A fire began to grow at her core and she thought about taking off her dress, reaching down to touch herself.

Another fist hit her pillow.

She was standing to take off her dress and crawl into bed when a knock came at her door. Looking out of the peephole she was startled to see Cassian there, leaning casually against the wall opposite her door, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his pants.

Nesta opened her door slightly. “What are you doing here, Cassian?”

“I wanted to check on you. See how you’re doing after those drinks you downed yesterday,” he said, remaining across the hallway, his hands coming out of his pockets and resting at his sides.

“I’m fine. I’m doing better.”

He looked down the hall, hesitating. “Can I… Can I come in Ness?”

She opened the door enough for him to enter, and walked back inside her hotel room. Before he followed her he leaned down to pick something up off the floor. Closing the door behind himself, he held it out to her.

“Champagne? Cassian, I thought you were trying to make sure I wasn’t hungover anymore.”

He grinned at her. “Hair of the dog, Ness. I swiped it from the reception. I thought we could celebrate on our own.”

She sat down on the edge of her bed and gestured for him to sit at the desk. Before he did he found her bar and began trying to open the bottle. “You’d better not get that all over the carpet. Open it in the bathroom.”

He raised his hand in mock salute and went to the bathroom to work the cork out of the bottle. A loud popping sound was followed by cursing and Nesta bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Well your bathroom is now champagne colored, just so you know,” he said as he re-entered the room.

“Clean it up before you leave,” she said shortly, taking the plastic cup he offered her. She held it while he poured her a glass, crossing her legs. When he sat down at the desk she had indicated earlier, she leveled her gaze at him.

“What are we celebrating, then?” she asked. She held her cup out, prepared to toast.

“The happiness of our friends, of course. Your sister, my friend. I suppose he’s your brother-in-law, now. So to… family.”

She grimaced.

“To family that we create… and to dealing with those we can’t get rid of,” he corrected, raising his cup.

She returned the gesture and sipped the champagne slowly, the fizzing of the bubbles spraying her nose lightly. She held out her hand and was greeted with a napkin that Cassian grabbed off the bar. She wiped her nose off, ignoring the fact that they hadn’t spoken a word during the exchange.

“So tell me why you’re here, Cassian. What do you want?” She took another drink from her cup.

“I don’t know what happened yesterday. I thought maybe you would tell me.”

She waited a moment, not to give herself time for honesty, but to consider what she would do if he refused to give her the same.

“Ianthe. I saw you.”

A confused look crossed his face. “Ianthe? She’s nothing. She is always hanging around, trying to get back in at Rhys’ family company. She’s a real piece of work, actually…” He trailed off as he realized what she had thought, what she must have seen in that hallway. “Oh, Nesta, no. I never… I’ve never been with her. She just… has a habit of showing up around when she’s not wanted. You should have seen what Mor did to her once when she started hitting on Az.” He tried to joke, but the look on her face tore his heart in two.

“You were kissing her.” A simple statement, and an accusation.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She kissed me. I pushed her away. You probably came down the hallway right when she kissed me. God, Nesta, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Look, there is a lot about Ianthe you should know. She actually…”

He struggled to continue, wondering if it would make a difference. He felt like he had broken a promise to her that he wasn’t aware he’d made, and then he realized why - what that promise was, would look like, and he faltered, realizing that he had made it, to himself at least. Whether she would accept what he had to offer was another story.

He began again, steadying his voice and trying to push past this, to get to the part where he could tell her what he had really come to say. “Look, it’s not an excuse, but I have a history with women…” Nesta snorted “…and so Ianthe thought that maybe I was a way to get in good with Rhys. That’s all.”

Nesta remained silent, her steel gaze boring into him.

He continued. “Months ago, Rhys found out that she had something to do with… what happened, between Feyre and Tamlin. That Ianthe had told him where Feyre was, when she tried to leave. Ianthe was working for us at the time and was involved in other things, things that went against the company policy and so that was the last straw. He fired her. She has been trying to get back in his good graces and thought I might be a way to do that.”

“What do you mean, she told Tamlin where Feyre was?” A lethal calm had come into Nesta’s voice.

“Just what I said. They have a history too, her and Tamlin, and she’s just… I told you, Nesta, she’s not someone any of us want around, not anymore. When I found out that Ianthe had told Tamlin where he could find Feyre, I got her out. Az and I found another place for her to stay while she dealt with the restraining order and everything else.”

Nesta stood, finishing her glass and pouring herself another. “You helped her? Feyre?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t a big deal, I mean we had to go get her stuff, but…” his voice trailed off.

“Why?”

“Because she’s my friend. She needed help.” He stood, going to where she remained at the bar. She placed a hand on his chest, waiting a moment before she looked up at him. It fit - everything he was saying fit what Feyre had told her last week. That she had tried to leave, that he wouldn’t let her go, and that he had somehow found out where she had gone. Only Feyre didn’t know how Tamlin had learned where she was.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I just wanted you to understand. I can’t stand you looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… you can’t trust me. Like I’m going to do something to hurt you, or like if you glare at me long and hard enough then you’ll find the fault that will mean you don’t need to admit how you feel about me.”

She snorted. “How I feel about you? Are you so sure, Cassian?” Her hand fell to her side. “Is this how you do it, then? Is this how you got your reputation, as you called it?”

“Damnit, Nesta, I love you!” he blurted out. He sounded desperate, and he knew immediately that it was wrong, it was all wrong and she would never take it when he threw it in her face like that.

She backed away slowly. “Don’t just say that because you want something from me right now. I’m not looking for that. I don’t need it.”

“I would never…” A wounded look crossed his face and she knew she had said the wrong thing, the worst thing and she clenched her fists, turning away.

There was a deep silence in the room and Nesta turned back towards him, forcing him to look her in the eye. There was a challenge on her face that he knew he needed to meet, to answer.

“Nesta… I’m completely crazy about you. You yell at me, and I love you. You glare at me, you kiss me, you look at me like you are right now and I can’t take it because I just want to hold you and… I’m not asking anything of you. I will walk out of here right now and never see you again, if that’s what you want. Just… let me know. Tell me what you need, and you’ll have it.”

He stopped, noticing a slight softening in her features.

She took a step towards him.

He waited.

There had always been an openness to his expression, and now she recognized its sincerity. He hadn’t needed to tell her about Feyre, or Ianthe, or Tamlin. There wasn’t even a guarantee that it would have done any good, considering what everyone believed of her relationship with her sister.

She reached him, her hands going up to his face, brushing a hair from his forehead. He covered her hands with his own and leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, whispering her name.

When she kissed him that time, it was with certainty. Knowing that it was what she wanted, that she hadn’t been wrong, that there was an honesty and honor in him that came not from wanting to take, but from wanting to give and if he didn’t make her so crazy she would have done this so long ago…

Her tongue brushed up against his and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground until her feet were dangling. He began to walk with her, to push her back until she was stopped by the dresser, hitting it so hard that the TV on top of it rocked precariously, forcing Cassian to let go of her and save Nesta a rather larger hotel bill than she had bargained for. She landed on the dresser with a thud. When he had steadied it, they paused, smiling at each other.

She spread her legs slightly to pull him in between them and he rested his hands on her thighs. Her sheath was riding up to make room for him, and he held himself back from shifting his body enough to make it ride further up, revealing her to him. His hands rested on bare skin, and he gently ran his palms over the few inches he could access, cupping her knees.

Their eyes met and he was pleased to see fire there, and the challenge still. She would never let him get too comfortable; he could already see it in the way she pulled him in to her, while retaining her iron will.

“Cassian,” she said.

“Ness?”

“Kiss me again.”

He gripped her waist, the sheath she was wearing riding all the way up to her hips as he leaned into her as far as he could. The champagne coated her tongue still and he began to wonder if they would ever kiss without the memories of gin and champagne. She ran her hands through his hair as he pressed into her, their lips and tongues meeting and tasting and claiming. She rutted her hips into his before she realized what she was doing, how little fabric remained between him and her core. His hands ran up her thighs, cautiously, pressing her legs tighter around his hips, wanting to take her to the bed and learn every inch of her.

She wanted him to touch her, she was burning to know what his broad hands would feel like between her legs, but she pulled away slowly. “Not yet.” Nesta had never been one to move fast, always too busy calculating, observing, and she wanted to take her time with Cassian, this man who infuriated and challenged her in ways she hadn’t expected.

He nodded.

She reached up to him, filling her fist with his curls and pulling on them gently. “Couldn’t you have at least taken care of this for the wedding?”

He took her arm gently in his hand, pulling it away from his head. Her wrist was poised over his mouth and he breathed her in, closing his eyes at the fading scent of her perfume. When he brushed his lips on the soft skin there, feeling the heat of her pulse, she made a small sound.

She was in deeper than she had realized and damn him if he hadn’t made her wrong - wrong about him, about herself, and maybe about a great deal of other things, too.

“Cassian, I… I thought I didn’t need it, didn’t need you, but…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I’m not sure what I need, yet. But if you’re willing to try, I want to find out.”

He paused while pretending to deliberate and consider what she had said. “Ok. Then… dinner. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Do you think I don’t have plans, or that I’ll just drop them for you, or…?” She cocked her head at him.

“Fine, then, Ness, you tell me. When are you free, princess?” He grinned, a smile that she was already figuring out how to coax from him in the future, one that made her heart pound a little bit faster.

She paused before jumping off the dresser and walking to the bathroom door.

“Tomorrow. But first, clean my bathroom.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #nesta #cassian #my writing #mine #Lionhearted

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