#stu(died)

[vidalinav]

Okay I posted it. It’s chaotic but it’s done and I don’t care.

[vidalinav]

Okay I wrote a page.5 and it doesn’t suck that badly.

[vidalinav]

Update: I don't like the last chapter of Stu(died) I posted, so I deleted it and I'm redoing it. I am also working on chapter 8, the christmas chapter which features both Feyre and Elain. You'll get two chapters out of me this holiday season.

[vidalinav]

Stu(died) Chapter 7 Snippet

“Oh no one cooks. We go to the Chinese buffet in town. My dad tried to cook but he almost burnt down the house once, and the last time, we had to rush him to the ER because he chopped off a finger.”

“Elain would cook, but she’s usually rushing to get holiday orders done and also she’s vegetarian. Which is new, by the way.” The look on Feyre’s face is telling of her disapproval. The wrinkle of her nose and the way she purses her lips is practically a replica of Nesta. Cassian can see the family resemblance as clear as day. It gives him whiplash, if he’s honest, since Feyre is nothing like Nesta at all. “Who wants to eat tofurkey or a giant cabbage?”

“Elain?” Cassian asks, since he's never heard the name mentioned before.

“My other sister,” Nesta explains lowly.

Feyre huffs. “You’ve never told him about Elain? Have you told him about me?”

“You may have come up in passing,” Nesta says, shrugging.

“I’m offended. We’re the best part about you. We formed your formidable years. Your personality is thanks to us.”

Nesta looks at Cassian blankly.

Feyre only laughs, continuing with her spiel. “Well, Elain's decision made more sense to me after she told me about Luc. I was like: are you telling me that you’re vegetarian because you want an excuse to hit on the produce guy at the farmers market? It was so like me… I think we might be sisters.”

“I don’t think you can complain about the meal when you don’t cook," Nesta says.

Feyre scoffs. “You complain more than me. You have the palate of a four-year-old and you hate vegetables.”

“Anyway, Cass, can I call you Cass? You’ll get to see our hometown! It’s actually quite nice though Nesta hates it.”

“I don’t hate it,” Nesta refutes, rolling her eyes lightly. “It’s just too small.”

“Yes, people know too much,” Feyre says, using air quotes around what he assumes are her sister’s words.

In some ways, they are the same, he thinks. The same sardonic humor. The quick-witted speech that is just a little more recognizable as joking in Feyre than it is in Nesta… entirely more recognizable, really.

“I’m sure Cassian doesn’t want to hear our life story.”

Cassian frowns at Nesta, and quickly looks back to the road. “Of course, I want to hear your life story. You don’t tell me anything.”

~ Feyre is chaotic, yes. In my mind she's adhd coded. But also has baby sister vibes.

[vidalinav]

Hi just wanted to say I’ve been following the studied story since you began it and I’m so excited for the next portion! And I loved your latest nesta fic too :)

Thank you!!!!!! I'm honestly so surprised I'm continuing it but it's the fic that makes me laugh so I have to.

Thank you for reading it as long as you have and being patient with me!

[vidalinav]

AAAAAAAAAA STUDIED SNIPPET (I love your writing sm 😭)

Sure! However, this is Christmas themed.

~

“You like her,” Feyre notes softly.

“What?” Cassian questions as her words slur together, blending into the background of small-town voices and the hum of familiarity. He’s too busy staring at Nesta anyway to attend to what she says. Nesta looks at wooden Christmas ornaments from across the stands, and her hair floats down her back when it’s usually in braids and she is the embodiment of the word home.

He knows that to be truer than any fact he’s memorized or any papers he’s read just to impress Nesta with his knowledge of the human genome. And as he watches her stare at the ornaments, Cassian wonders if he should not buy one himself to commemorate the fact that he is here with her, if only for a four-hour ride back to her family home.

Nesta takes great care to mind her own personal space, Cassian finds in his analysis. She moves away quickly if others move too close to her. She lightly touches the star-shaped wood and moves off to the side, out of people’s way. It’s a wonder to see someone as beautiful as her, someone more arrogant than he’s ever known her to be shy, someone so opinionated and assertive and confident… trying so hard to remain unseen.

How could she really think she’d go unnoticed?

Nesta’s a star made only for the very tops of trees.

“That’s it!” Cassian startles as Feyre claps at his side. “I’m going to have to help. This isn’t a mission for the truly novice.”

“Novice?”

But Feyre continues, a spark of determination in her eyes. “You can be a hopeless romantic, fine. But you can’t be so hopeless, you never make it to the romantic.”

Cassian doesn’t bother mentioning the fact that he thinks he’s been doing pretty well with her sister so far, regardless of the fact that she walks away from him every time he joins a booth she’s at. Two kisses does not make a novice.

Does he want to brag? Yes. Will he brag? No.

“Nesta loves gas stations, you know,” Feyre lists. “She probably wouldn’t want you to know that, but I’m telling you this for a reason so you can have a leg up. You’re going to need help getting through to her. She loves gas stations, the big ones, and visiting new grocery stores. Books. Tea. Romance—don’t let her convince you that she doesn’t want to be romanced.”

Feyre points at him, giving out commands. She looks at him as if he should have been taking notes. She raises a finger as if to say wait and she unzips her backpack as if to hand him a pad of paper and a pen. Jot this down.

“Nesta hates vulnerability so you’re going to have to be deceptive. Don’t go and ruin things by being honest. Coercion is the only way you’ll survive.”

Cassian’s beginning to see the family resemblance. Still, something about talking with Feyre, feels like talking to family.

"You know she talks about you all the time," Cassian says even though that's not true in the slightest. He's only ever heard Feyre mentioned once.

But Feyre knows her sister all too well. "That's cute. You've already got the lying thing down, but don't you worry. Nesta likes keeping the things that mean the most to her, closest to her heart... as deep, down there as it is."

She twirls a ribbon in her hands, gift wrap in her arms. A walking present and just as bright. "That's why it's no surprise you were a secret, too."

[vidalinav]

Stu(died) Bonus Scene 1

Summary: This is how Nesta gets Cassian's hoody.

~

Nesta heads to the campus library after her shift and it’s not to study. It’s to feel paper on her fingertips. To hide behind a shelf and sit at the bottom, wading through carpeted seas. There’s something about the smell of books. Home is not a place that is hours away, but a place between pages that she can’t begin to fathom or feel.  

Nesta can read it though.  

She can smell it.  

And yes, maybe the semester is getting a little too heavy and so her thoughts are weighing down on her. If only she could carry a thousand books instead of working another shift, or writing another paper, or twisting her brain to remember every detail of a lecture. Her professors are starting to sound like the adults in Charlie Brown. Wha wha’s instead of the explanation on the electrical activity of the heart.  

Rip out her aorta, already. Each ventricle and vein. Press words instead of notes into the cavity. Nesta wants it to fill her... to feel full... to feel... happy again.  

Because she’s starting to feel only tired.  

And yes, she needs sleep. A shower. Some food. But Nesta thinks of books instead of walking home after her shift. She lugs herself to the elevator, presses the button for the fourth floor and she breathes in the smell of old paper. 

No one will ask where she is. Nesta works too much for anyone to guess that she might not be where she’s supposed to be, so hours will pass between shelves and there’s nothing romantic about the way her arms hug her knees, because no one else will be there to hug her. Because who will care about her if all she does is work?  

But Nesta won’t cry.  

Or at least she says she won’t. She’ll let the books calm her back into decency and composure. Enough to go home and do her homework for the night, because it’s still due in the morning.  

Everything seems to be due tomorrow and the night arrives sooner than she thinks.  

Nesta’s not crazy enough to sleep here, but she knows some people will. It’s easy to do when there are students gulping down Red Bulls until their body is 70% caffeine. There’s only so many all-nighters you can pull, before the inevitable crash, but Nesta has not pulled her fair share.  

In fact, there’s nothing really wrong.  

Or at least she says there isn’t.  

She’s alone on a Thursday and tomorrow it'll be Friday and her friends will be planning a movie while Nesta thinks of work. Shifts in between studying.  

But she’s used to it. She’s done this before. Nesta does this every semester... and every semester more, she scurries through the shelves, peaking through hallways. Every semester she sits on the floor, waiting for books to tell her how she feels.  

Nesta doesn’t truly know. 

Most of the time in the library, well... she’s annoyed. Irritated at something Cassian says or the way he doesn’t do what she tells him. She fumes, nagging and bitter as she taps at his textbook and for some reason that feels... good.  

It at least feels better than this. This awful, nothing feeling. This tired, resigned woe. This if no one knows I exist, do I? feeling.  

Will this be her life for four more semesters?  

Nesta sighs, squeezing tighter at her knees.  

And it's dark by the time Nesta leaves. As she walks out of the library, the night takes a bite... a little nibble before Nesta stops at a lamp post, safe in its shade.   

And... well, night is only scary for women, she thinks.  

That must be what sits on her chest, maybe.  

There’s a story that people pass around like nighttime fairytales about a girl who was stabbed on campus three years ago. It’s why their campus has emergency alarms at every corner and why there’s a buddy system for late night trips back home.  

But Nesta doesn’t think to call them. Nesta does everything herself.  

Alone, she thinks... and it might not be fear that sits there, peeking through her skin.  

It roars, she knows—that feeling.  

The night is only scary for women.   

That’s the greatest knowledge she’s learned and perhaps there is one feeling she can name instead of numbness. This great big... unfairness. Quiet in the solid night.  

It is unfair that she is her. That she is a woman. It is unfair she is a student. That she is not even a rich student. That she has to study. That days pass and she studies. That years pass, and she’ll study for those too.  

It is quite unfair that she is not a frat boy.  

Not a privileged little frat boy whose dues would pay for her tuition... or her books... or her food. Three jobs? They’ve never heard of work.  

Cassian has sure never heard of work. He eats privilege for breakfast. With his little silver spoon.  

So, she doesn’t know why she calls him. She presses her thumb to the number before she can convince herself against it.  

Nesta can hear laughter in the background. Giggling and bright.  

Feminine.  

“Nesta?” He answers, and his voice is rough with concern. Not at all with curiosity, though she’s never called him before.  

“Cassian,” she breathes and there must be something in the sound of her voice. Something that means no arguing. No questions asked except for one.   

“Nesta, where are you?”  

She looks around the buildings. The yellow brick beneath her shoes could lead anywhere. To the library. To the closed restaurants stuck in dorm halls. “I’m on campus. Near... the business hall.”  

“Wait there and I’ll come get you,” he says and for once Nesta doesn’t argue with him.   

~ 

The lamp posts illuminate pockets of an abandoned campus, and the light means someone else exists. Nesta needs only to reach out a hand and he’ll be standing there.  

Because she called.  

Because he worries for her. She can hear it in his voice on the phone.  

When he comes running, Cassian’s in pajama pants and a white tee. In the dark, his chest looks like the moon. He has his hoodie crumpled in his hands, and he holds out the shaded red urging her take it.  

“It’s freezing out here,” she replies, tucking her hand into her pockets as if that might make him pull it back. Out of reach where her hands can’t grasp it without her permission.  

“I know,” he says, firmly, “so wear my hoodie so you don’t freeze to death. You didn’t bring a coat?” 

“It was warm earlier. I didn’t think I would be here this long.” 

Cassian’s hair flops around his face as he tilts his head, scrunching up his brows. “Why were you? Didn’t you work today?”  

“I just lost track of time,” she answers dismissingly. It's technically true, though she supposes time is not so easily tracked when she is often running out of it. She can’t stop thinking about classes, about money, about the future, about her lack of time. So Nesta shrugs. “The library makes me... calm—Why are you laughing?” 

Cassian’s grin gets wider at her derisive tone. “I’ve just seen you get mad at me so many times in that library, I have a hard time imagining it makes you calm.”  

Nesta can’t help but huff as she crosses her arms. She can feel the wind, her short-sleeved shirt barely covering anything. Cassian doesn’t seem to like that. He frowns at her arms, his brows permanently engraved.  

“Still, take my hoodie,” he urges, “I don't like seeing you shiver when there’s a perfectly good hoodie right here going to waste.”  

Cassian holds it out for her, but Nesta doesn’t want to take it. It seems too intimate. She doesn’t want to feel the cloth on her skin, warm from his body, wonder if that’s how his hugs must feel. She doesn’t want to know what he smells like, if she’ll ever be able to wash it off as if it permanently marks her skin. 

Would she be okay with that—with having an essence of him burned into her memory? She thinks of those moths. They dive in out of light sockets because they can’t resist the glow. Is it his hoodie that she can’t resist? The color, it’s warmth. Is it him she moves to as he walks in the moon’s magic veil?  

She can hear the buzz of bulbs of lamp posts and wonders if that’s an invitation to speak. She wonders if this is an invitation to wrap her arms around him and sink... to feel warmth where there is none.  

To the moths, the moon is trapped in a lightbulb. To Nesta, the moon is captured on Cassian’s chest, and it might be a perfectly good place to rest her head for a while, if only she did not fear what that would make her feel.  

It’s only as Cassian dips his head to catch her eyes that Nesta realizes she’s been staring at his bright white t-shirt.  

“I can’t take it,” she says.  

“It won’t bite Nesta, what are you afraid of?”  

You, she wants to speak.  

“Your cleaning habits,” she says instead.  

Cassian rolls his eyes, but his hand still reaches out for her, that hoodie grasped in his palm.  

Take it, the gesture says.  

Nesta has never been fond of people telling her what to do.  

~ 

“Cassian walked you home?” Gwyn asks. Nesta tries to hold the hoodie behind her back, but nothing can hide Cassian’s massive sweatshirt in her hands.  

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Emerie says as she rubs a towel through her waves.

Nesta shrugs, “just the first number I saw.”  

But she doesn’t let them ask any more questions before going to her room.  

It’s late after all.  

And in her room, when she’s supposed to be studying, Nesta looks to her bookshelf, then to the window where a white house sprawls across the lawn like a blinding star. The pen is already in her hand when her gaze drifts to paper. She thinks of his name in the corner of the first page and her pen moves across the third where chemical bonds are sprawled in light green.  

I wish I could bottle every moment with you and keep it in a jar. Safe where I can see it.   

~

Stu(died) Tagged List:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430 @unhealthyfanobsession @simpingfornestaarcheron @talkfantasytome  @sayosdreams

~

I told you I was back. Also college is hard y’all. I had to write something that captured that. Also every detail about campus was my campus!

Next chapter has tinges of nesta being sad and why so I had to set up some sort of transition.

[vidalinav]

Now I'm working on Stu(died) chapter 7, but it's a Christmas fic so it feels like I gotta wait to post that one.