#it was a shitty little scribble before he deigned to help so if you like this you have him to thank actually

[amourninghost]

oh oops,

[wingsofanillyrian]

Guys and Cars: Chapter 1 (Nessian AU)

@spegetty asked: “ “Oh, to Hell! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” “You dimwit, what do you know about anything?!” with nessian ok thank u jaclyn”

Modern Nesta would totally be a gearhead just to piss men off fIGHT ME

Chapter Masterlist

Music up, windows down, shades on.

That was Nesta Archeron’s summertime motto. If the sun was up and the sky was clear, you could find her on the highway, cruising along the oceanfront. The salty breeze of the Pacific called her home, the purr of her 1969 Charger’s engine was as familiar as her own heartbeat.

There were few things she loved more than her car, which she had affectionately named Bertha. Nesta cared for it, kept it clean, and fed it only the best fuels.

The only reason she’d bought the car was to piss off her good for nothing father. It had been his dream car for years, and in between his drunken fits it was all he could talk about. “I’ll have that Charger one day,” he’d say before taking another swig of bourbon.

Nesta had saved every penny she’d earned from her shitty waitress job at the only grimy pub in their tiny town. The day she’d seen the ad for a mint 1969 cherry red Charger in the paper, she’d withdrawn half of her savings to pay for it and used the rest to move to the Pacific Coast.

She considered it her petty revenge.

She had never intended to keep it for very long, but she ended up loving it. The rush of adrenaline when she dropped the clutch and slammed the gas had become addictive. She took pride in the way the pearly paint shined in the warm summer sun. She relished the way her car turned heads, and absolutely lived for watching men’s jaws drop when they glimpsed a woman in the driver’s seat.

Of course, there were also days that her precious Charger turned heads for a completely different reason.

Nesta had been roaring down famed California State Highway 1, enjoying the euphoria of the drive. It was soon dashed when the engine sputtered in an all too familiar way, floorboards shaking under her feet and tailpipe coughing black smoke. She groaned, cranking the wheel and pulling off onto the gravel shoulder just as it died completely.

“Great,” she muttered, hastily tying her chestnut waves up in a messy ponytail. “Every time I get it over 70, I swear!” Cars continued to zip by, some slowing to see what the commotion was, but never stopping, thank goodness.

That was the kind of attention Nesta didn’t like the Charger to attract. The cherry red paint job was practically a beacon saying look at me! Look at me! And often times when creepy middle-aged men saw her, an attractive female, poking around under the hood, they’d stop and offer to “help” her.

Most times they really just wanted to check her out.

But she already had an inkling of what the problem could be. Black smoke indicated that the engine was running rich, burning too much fuel and flooding itself. It would work itself out in time, but she wanted to see if she could figure out a more permanent fix. She slid out of the driver’s seat to investigate her suspicions.

No sooner than she’d popped the Charger’s candy-apple red hood, a sleek black Audi pulled off ahead of her. It was hard to see much through the darkly tinted windows, but the driver was definitely male, and definitely bulky.

Nesta smirked and turned back to the engine compartment. This should be fun.

The door of the Audi opened and closed, and she kept her eyes trained on the engine as the stranger approached. She was fully aware that he was taking his sweet time, probably checking out her ass.

Creep.

“What seems to be the problem, sweetheart?” A pair of scarred, dirty hands draped over the hood, not at all looking like the pristine manicured ones she’d been expecting from the owner of such a posh car.

Normally, she wouldn’t deign to give him a reply. But his hands weren’t those of the self-entitled executive type that usually stopped when Bertha broke down.

She took the bait.

“Black smoke from the exhaust,” she stated simply, straightening up and wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she inspected the man.

Hazel eyes stood out sharply against his bronze, California sun-kissed skin and dark shoulder length hair. She was further off-put by his modest, casual attire. Wearing cargo shorts and a muscle tee, he looked more like he should be driving a Toyota rather than the sparkling Audi he’d pulled up in.

The thousand-watt smile he gave her meant that he’d noticed her lingering attention.

“Ah, that’s never a good sign.”

“Happens quite a lot, actually. Tried a few different things, but can’t pinpoint the problem.”

He scratched his stubbled chin, frowning at the mystery. “Interesting. I’m Cassian, by the way,” he said, sticking his hand out.

“Nesta.” She shook his hand warily.

“Mind if I take a look? I know a thing or two about cars.”

Quirking a doubtful brow, she gave the dark-haired man another once over. She knew enough about cars to be dangerous herself, and she knew her car even better than most others. Plus, she didn’t exactly trust just anyone off the street to be near Bertha. But in the end, she relented with a nod.

“Yeah, go ahead.” She stepped aside, letting him lean over the substantial 426 Hemi engine. As he peered and poked around, she took the opportunity to eye his Audi.

It was a few years old, a cute little thing that was surely quick and speedy off the line. She’d noticed that it was a manual transmission when he’d pulled over.

She grinned. It was a sport model, but not sporty enough.

Her Charger could smoke that any day.

A sizzling sound drew her attention back to the present. “Oh, to hell!” Cassian hissed, snatching his hand back from the radiator and shaking it out. He inspected the calloused flesh of his palm for burns, and finding a ripe blister, he blew out a breath through clenched teeth. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”

This was precisely why she didn’t like letting other people near Bertha; she had a mean bite.

“You dimwit, what do you know about anything?! My little sister could’ve told you that engines get hot!”

“No shit Sherlock,” he bit out, voice dripping sarcasm as he nursed his hand. Nesta only shot him a cruel smile, stepping in front of him and effectively dismissing him.

He stayed put as she carefully reached to adjust the air filter. She smiled triumphantly when she pulled it out. Clogged with dust and dirt, just as she had predicted. She brushed out some of the dirt before replacing it and jutting her chin at the dark-haired man.

“Turn it over.”

“What?”

“Start it up,” she repeated, pointing to the driver’s seat. Cradling his burned hand to his chest, he did as she asked, the engine turning over a few times but not catching.

“I don’t think that was the problem-“

“You’ve gotta pump the clutch,” she snapped, annoyed that he was doubting her. He turned the key again, this time following her instructions. The engine roared to life with a satisfying growl, spitting and popping with renewed life.

Man, she loved being right. Nesta slammed the hood down and mockingly addressed the broody, defeated male.

“So you’re a car guy, huh?”

“Well, I thought I knew cars,” he mumbled, a hint of a blush creeping into his tanned cheeks. “But it would appear that knowledge flies out the window when in the presence of a beautiful woman.”

Oh, he was a charmer.

“Or maybe you never had it to begin with.” She smirked, reaching through the open passenger window to retrieve a napkin and a pen from the glovebox. She scribbled her number on it before handing it to an astonished Cassian.

A very un-Nesta like action.

“What’s this?” Glittering hazel met steely blue in an epic matchup that made goosebumps rise on Nesta’s skin. She wanted to know more about this man; figure out what made him tick. Already she could tell that he wasn’t like anyone else she had ever met.

“You’re gonna take me on a date,” she explained, striding back to the driver’s side and climbing inside with feline grace. He stood outside his car, gaping as she slid her sunglasses back on and mouthed, call me.

He was still trying to pick his jaw up off the ground when she peeled of the shoulder and back onto the highway.

Men, she thought with a loopy grin. So easily impressed.