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fortheloveofwonderland · 11 months

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Somewhere to Belong | 3/3 | S.R

Part three of my Family Challenge fic.

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - I am almost positive this is not how the adoption system works but hey, it’s fanfiction, I make my own rules.

Summary - You reveal your master plan to Spencer and the two of you begin on your journey together. Will you be able to help Spencer bring Wren home where she belongs? And when the time comes, will you have what it takes to walk away?

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - confessed feelings, tears, mostly just domestic fluff, making out, allusions to sex but still SFW, crying child, swearing, happy ending.

WC - 9.4k

Part 3

The wheels of your plan had been slow turning, painfully so. You’d started to think you may never reach the end of this goddamn road.

But finally after months, all the pieces had fallen into place.

When you received the phone call you were already halfway out of the door before the person on the other end had even finished their sentence. It was the phone call you’d been waiting for, holding your breath every time the device rang.

And now it had happened, it was time to go and see him.

You drove out into the suburbs, a manilla folder full of paperwork in the passenger's seat. You parked next to the curb by the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door.

Before you could exit the car you saw the door open and Spencer let someone out the house. The women had a briefcase and wore a smart pants suit. Definitely a social worker.

You watched the woman head to her own car and once she was inside the vehicle and starting the engine you stepped out onto the street, bringing your folder with you.

As you headed for the yellow gate your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slowing your strides you retrieved it and read the text message on the screen.

📱 Spencer Reid: I think it��s over. There’s another couple who have shown interest in adopting Wren and I don’t think I can compete with that. I’m ok, I’m not craving or anything. I just wanted you to know.

You stuffed the device back in your pocket and looked up at the house, a single light coming from the downstairs window.

Since you’d accompanied him to Beltway, the two of you had been in touch more regularly. Spencer texted you nearly every day and you spoke on the phone fairly often.

You’d seen him a handful of times for coffee but you’d never been out to his home in Woodbridge. It was a really nice house, a family home just like the team had described to you. It was a complete one eighty from his old DC apartment.

You unhooked the gate and slid past it, hugging the folder to your chest as you made your way along the front path and up the steps.

Before you could talk yourself out of this, you knocked on the green front door.

Soon you heard it being unlocked and then it tentatively opened. Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion when he saw you.

“Y/N hi,” he opened the door slightly wider. “I just texted you.”

“I know, I was…in the neighbourhood?” You shrugged. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to allow you entrance to his home.

You walked inside while he shut the door behind you and you glanced around the living room.

You recognised his leather couch and armchair from his old apartment as well as his record player and chess set. The coffee table was the same but other than that this was not the home you pictured Spencer Reid living in.

He waited for you to take it in and only spoke again once you looked back at him.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m good.” You nodded, feeling oddly nervous.

He motioned for the couch and the two of you crossed the room together and sat side by side. You laid the manilla folder in your lap and ran your fingers over it.

“Whatcha you got there?” He asked, nodding at the file.

“Uh, well you see…” you trailed off, unable to find the words to communicate what you wanted to say. “How about you have a look.”

You handed him the file. For a moment he just stared at it with a frown before he cautiously took it from your hand.

He opened it and started one by one going through the pieces of paper inside.

The first was an application with a large red stamp proclaiming APPROVED in the bottom right corner. There were several sheaths that documented personal information about you, health checks, financial records, questions and answers relating to your childhood.

There was a rental agreement renewal for the address in which you lived which had gone unsigned as though you were hesitant in continuing your lease.

Multiple pages he’d seen before, floor plans of his own home, summaries of home visits at this address.

One sheet was a letter signed off by BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss agreeing to a cut in field hours. Two more sighed letters followed, both dictating what an upstanding human being you were, one signed by SSA Luke Alvez and the other Doctor Tara Lewis.

He read through them quickly as you knew he would but it still somehow felt like a lifetime before he was neatly tucking the pages away and closing the file. He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed heavily.

“I don’t…” he swallowed, his hands starting to shake. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” You nodded. “You’re a genius aren’t you?”

“I…is this a joke?” His eyes flooded with unshed tears as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It would be a pretty cruel thing to joke about.” You shrugged.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to push away his tears before they could fall.

“Just to confirm,” he swallowed thickly, his eyebrows still knitted together in his confusion. “Because I don’t want to misunderstand what’s happening here…”

“Spencer,” you placed your hand on his knee and he noticed you were shaking too. “I would do anything for you. Anything. If this can help you bring that little girl home, then I’ll do it.”

“You…you’ve gotten approval from the adoption agency.” He croaked.

“Yes.”

“You’ve done the interviews, cut down your hours at the BAU, not renewed your lease and had Alvez and Lewis write you character references.”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I still don’t think I’m ready for a family, Spencer. But I can sign on as Wren’s adoptive mother on paper, just so you can get her home. Once she’s home and the paperwork is finalised they can’t take her away from you. We can figure out all the rest once you’ve got her home, I can terminate my rights or whatever. But by then it won’t matter.”

“W-why would you…” he trailed off again, swallowing. “Why would you do that for me? That’s…crazy. Why would you want to go through all this trouble just so I can have a better chance of adopting Wren?”

You inhaled really deeply, your chest heaving as you did so. Spencer blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the new batch of tears from his eyes.

“I should have said it back.” You mumbled with a shake of your head. “Months ago, you told me you loved me and I should have said it back. But instead I walked away and let you believe I didn’t feel that way about you. But I do. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t make that any less true. And if I can help you bring Wren home I will. Because I love you.”

The room fell silent while Spencer worked to comprehend everything that was happening. His head spun as though he was drunk, making it harder for him to understand all of this.

This couldn’t have been some idea you’d just come up with, weeks if not months of work had gone into this. You were willing, on paper at least, to be Wren’s adoptive mother when you weren’t ready to have kids.

You’d told Emily, Luke and Tara at the minimum of your plans. You were willing to give up your apartment, cut back your hours at a job you adored to help him. Because you loved him. You loved him so much you were willing to put his happiness before your own.

“It’s too much.” He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do all of this.”

“Good job you never once asked then.” You smiled at him. “It’s all temporary. Once Wren is home I can pick back up my regular case load, I spoke to my landlord about subletting my apartment for a few months so I can move back in once everything is settled.”

“You plan to live here?” He suddenly made the connection.

“Well I’ve got to live somewhere. And you know, us living in the same house gives the impression of a happy couple who want to adopt a child, don’t you think? It won’t be forever.”

“What am I supposed to say to my social worker? I forgot to tell her that I had a partner?” Of course he’d try and pick holes in this, it was what Spencer Reid did best.

“We say we were together but I didn’t think I was ready for a family. But now I am. We tell them I met Wren and fell in love with her and now we want to adopt her together. It’s pretty much what I wrote in my application.” You’d considered every outcome, every bump in the road.

“But you haven’t met Wren.” He shook his head.

“So I will.” You chuckled. “Spence, stop trying to put blockers in the way when there aren’t any. Let me do this for you, please? Let me help you bring your little girl home.”

Spencer stared at you silently, blinking frantically as he tried to understand what was happening. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed again but you seemed sincere.

He still didn’t understand how you would be willing to go to such lengths for him but he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was you were willing to and he could use all the help he could get.

Suddenly he threw himself forward, arms flying up to wrap around you. He pulled you close, holding you tightly as he started to loudly sob.

“T-thank you.” He cried into your shoulder as you returned his hug.

“You’re welcome, Spence. You’re so very welcome.”

You continued to hold him while he sobbed, stroking his back in an attempt to calm him. It was over a half hour later when he finally shed all of his tears, sniffed heavily and sat back to look at you.

“You really are my most favourite person.” He smiled shakily at you.

If you didn’t love him so much there was no way you would have even considered helping him adopt a child even if it was only on paper.

But love makes us do crazy things. And this might just be the craziest.

***

Two days later you anxiously sat in the passenger's seat of Spencer’s Volvo while he drove the two of you to Wren’s halfway home.

You played with your hands in your lap, barely speaking as you tried to comprehend meeting this little girl who had become Spencer’s whole world.

You’d agreed to tell Wren you were Spencer’s friend it was the truth and much less complicated than explaining everything to her. You would test the waters with her first, see how she felt about it before broaching it with the social worker.

Your legs wobbled a little as you got out of the car and Spencer was regarding you curiously.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing across your knuckles.

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “She means so much to you, I’m just worried she won’t like me.”

“She’s going to love you. Trust me.”

The look he was giving you made your stomach coil into knots. Your knees buckled and your heart yearned for him.

It was such a cruel world that you could be so in love with someone yet not be destined to each other.

As you started towards the building he slipped his hand in yours and it was so easy to pretend this wasn’t all for show.

He led you inside, saying his hellos to some of the people working in the halfway home, clearly he’d been here a lot. He carried on through to a larger room filled with kids of all ages, your heart bled for them all.

As your eyes cast around the room, you were quickly snapped back around when you heard someone calling Spencer’s name.

“Spencer! Spencer!”

You looked back just in time to see a head of dark curls you remembered from when you’d seen her sleeping on Spencer’s lap at the BAU running right towards the two of you.

He let go of your hand so he could outstretch his arms for the girl who happily fell into them.

“Missed you.” She tucked herself in his arms.

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He sighed in content as he hugged her.

You watched the way he seemed to light up the moment Wren was nearby, how all the weight he carried on his shoulders slipped away. As he cuddled the five year old, he seemed at peace.

And you knew you were doing the right thing.

Wren stepped back from his embrace and looked up at you, head tilted to the side in a curious fashion and little dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Who are you?” She asked, pouting a little.

“This is my friend, Y/N.” Spencer spoke for you. “Y/N, this is Wren.”

“Why is she here?” Wren looked back at Spencer in concern.

“I thought you’d like to meet her.” Spencer’s tone completely changed when he spoke to her, you’d never heard him like it before.

It was soft and sweet, obviously it relaxed the young girl. Usually. But it was clear by the concerned expression in her face it wasn’t working today.

“But I like spending time with you.” Her lip jutted out.

“I’m still here aren’t I?” Spencer chuckled, tucking a rogue strand of her hair back off of her rosy face.

“Hey Wren,” you crouched down so you were the same height as her, garnering her attention. “I heard you love Halloween?”

She looked between Spencer who was still standing at his full height and back to you before looking back at him again.

“It’s ok,” he encouraged her with a smile.

She looked back at you once more, a hint of scepticism in her bright eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded feverishly.

“And you love books too, right?”

“Yes.” She nodded again.

“Well that’s perfect because I just so happen to have a book all about Halloween!” You grinned at her whilst reaching into your purse.

Spencer frowned a little, you hadn’t mentioned this on the drive over. He watched as you pulled a book out of your bag, a brightly coloured hardback depicting cartoon pictures of ghosts, witches and monsters getting ready for a spooky party.

The title read The Night Before Halloween.

Neither of you could tell what Wren was thinking, for a five year old she was amazing at masking her expression even though she probably didn’t realise she was doing it.

She looked from the book to your eyes then to Spencer and around in the same loop a few times before settling on Spencer.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” He asked her, trying to prompt her to speak.

“No.” Wren shook her head and turned back to you.

You tried to hide your disappointment. This was your only play, your only way in with her and you’d blown it.

But then the little girl smiled at you.

“I want Y/N to read it to me.” She reached out her little hand for you and you pushed yourself back up to your full height and took it.

She led you over to the couch with Spencer following close behind. You glanced at him over your shoulder and he was smiling at you as he mouthed the words, good job.

***

Two more visits with Wren and she had warmed up to you the same way he had with Spencer. By the third visit she even hugged you.

And you saw exactly why Spencer loved her.

By the time September rolled around you’d moved into Spencer’s suburban home - in the spare room - and had multiple visits with Jenny who struggled to grasp what was happening at first.

Understandably she was sceptical about your sudden involvement but after more rigorous interviews she started to warm up the same way Wren had.

As you weren’t travelling with the team so much anymore and mostly working cases out of Quantico, you and Spencer spent a lot of time together.

He was always home before you, his classes at Marlborough never running past four pm. And as much as you hated to admit it, having someone to come home to everyday was delightful in its domesticity.

When you did travel with the team, usually around every one in four cases, Spencer would call you everyday and send you photographs of him and Wren when he visited her.

Spencer was learning to cook for Wren so the poor girl didn’t have to live off of cereal, coffee and ice cream, or as you always referred to it: The Doctor Reid Diet.

He tried out his new recipes on you and at least eighty percent of them were edible.

You’d been allowed to take Wren out on more day trips, with Jenny in tow of course. The two of you took her to museums and book stores and ice cream parlours; to the park, once to a carnival and anywhere else her little imagination could think to go.

It was midway into October when you arrived back from a case in Florida in which you’d been gone for six days. You knew Spencer had waited up for you as he’d called you to tell you he would.

When you let yourself in the green front door of the house that was feeling more like a home by the day, it wasn’t the messy haired genius who met you.

What did meet you certainly had messy hair, but its dopey expression told you it was no genius.

The creature trotted over to you, tongue hanging out of its slightly lopsided mouth and offered you a single bark whilst nuzzling against your shin.

You stared at the scruffy dog using your leg as a scratching post with wide eyes. Somewhere in the house you heard footsteps and you glanced up to see Spencer appearing from the kitchen.

“Hey, how was your day?” He smiled at you, completely ignoring the confusion on your face.

“Uh, it was perfectly normal until I came home and was greeted by this.” You pointed down at the mutt who was staring expectantly at you.

“He. Not this.” Spencer padded over and quickly scooped up the small, messy animal in his arms. “This is Rover.”

Rover licked Spencer’s cheek and much to your confusion, the germaphobe didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Last I checked Rover was a stuffed animal. This creature seems to be very much alive.”

“Wren decided she wanted a dog. I said we could go to the pound and look, just look. But, uh, she kinda fell in love with this little guy and I can’t say no to her.” He shrugged, scratching Rover behind his ear.

“So you now have a dog.” You hung your bag up by the door.

“We have a dog.”

“Oh no.” You shook your head, walking past him towards the kitchen. “I’m outta here once Wren’s home. The dog is your problem.”

Spencer placed the creature, which you thought more resembled a gremlin than a dog, on the floor and followed you.

“He’ll grow on you.”

“He most certainly won’t. I’m a cat person. And last I checked you weren’t all that keen on dogs either.”

“But Wren is. So I guess I’m a dog person now.” He leant against the counter in the kitchen while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

You turned back to look at him as you uncapped it. You had a curious smile on your lips.

“What? What’s that look for?” He frowned a little.

“It’s just funny,” you took a sip. “Six months ago I would never have imagined either of us to be here.”

“Me either.” He agreed with a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” He started towards you. “You’re a big part of that, you know? I know this is all for show and we’re just doing this until Wren is home, but, uh…I like having you here.”

“It’s not all for show.” You placed the bottle on the counter behind you as you felt a little dizzy with the way Spencer was looking at you.

“No?” He reached you, stopping a few feet in front of you.

“I like being here too.” You confessed, your legs shaking a little due to the look he was currently giving you.

“I’m glad.” He swallowed and your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed deliciously beneath his flesh. “I’m, uh, I’m on the verge of doing something very dumb.”

“How do you know it’s dumb until you do it?” You had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about.

“Because I’m a genius and my brain is screaming how dumb it would be.” He chuckled, stepping even closer to you.

“Maybe for once, don’t listen to your brain, Spence.”

To encourage him, you reached for him, placing your hand on his shoulder. He swallowed again as he stepped nearer to you still.

Cautiously he raised his own hands and placed them on the sides of your face, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

“Don’t listen to my brain?” He whispered, wanting confirmation.

“Just this one time.” You offered him a smile and it was all he needed to close the space between you.

When his lips gently brushed against your own, your hand quickly moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck to keep him close.

You parted your lips and he replied in kind by deepening the kiss.

He pushed his body flush against you, pressing you into the counter. He held your face delicately but soon the kiss was growing frantic.

It wasn’t at all long before he was manoeuvring you away from the counter and towards the kitchen door, never tearing his lips from yours. Not at least until his back collided with the door.

He broke the kiss and started to laugh, you did the same. He reached behind him and opened the door, taking your hand pulling you along with him.

The two of you were giggling like a couple of teenagers as you ascended the stairs, neither of you paying much mind to the dog asleep in his bed.

He led you to his room and once inside he pushed you back against the wall and kissed you ardently again.

He rolled his hips against yours so you could feel the bulge in his slacks and you moaned into his mouth.

And then he was leading you to his bed as he helped you out of your clothes.

It was only then as you lay beneath you realised how much you’d missed him. And you knew when or if the time came for Wren to come home and this little domestic bubble popped, it was going to be hard to drag yourself away.

***

You fell asleep wrapped in Spencer’s arm after several hours and multiple orgasms. When you woke in the morning he was already awake, staring at you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he stroked your messy hair behind your ear.

“Hey yourself.” You smiled back, inching closer and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Last night was…” he trailed off searching for the right word but finding none that did it justice.

“Amazing?” You laughed lightly.

“That’s certainly one word for it.” He agreed, hand cupping your cheek. “So I don’t wanna be the kind of person that asks this but, uh…did that mean something? Was it just sex or did it mean something? Because I would…uh…I’d really like it to have meant something.”

His nerves were tangled in his words and you could see in his eyes that he hated asking you this. You smiled and ran your fingertips lightly over his bicep.

“Well I guess that…” you were stopped by the sound of Spencer’s phone ringing and he pulled a face of frustration.

“Shoot,” he let go of your face. “To be continued?”

You nodded and watched him roll over, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand and putting it to his ear while sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

“Doctor Reid,” he spoke and then was silent for a moment or two and his back straightened. “Seriously? You…I…seriously? Uh, yeah of course. Today? Gosh…yes. Ok. Ok. Thank you. Goodbye.”

His hand holding the phone fell to his lap limply but other than that he didn’t move. You rolled closer to him with a frown, wrapping an arm around his waist when you were close enough.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and you couldn’t read his expression.

“Spence?” You croaked. “Is everything ok?”

He exhaled through parted lips, his eyes widening a little before he slowly started to nod.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracked. “Yeah everything’s great. That was Jenny. Apparently we’ve been approved for placement under supervision for Wren. It might not be permanent and Jenny will visit every week. But they wouldn’t let us bring her home if there wasn’t a strong possibility of us being able to adopt her. She’s coming home, Y/N. Our little girl is coming home.”

His tears overflowed when he reached the end of his speech and the smile that adorned his lips was brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky combined.

You jumped up and threw yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Oh gosh Spence, that’s great!” You felt your own tears well in your eyes as he held you.

And for some reason when he called her our little girl, it didn’t freak you out in the slightest,

***

Wren was an excitable blur of hand gestures and bounces in her seat as Spencer drove the three of you home later that afternoon.

She’d only ever seen photographs of the room Spencer had put together for her and she was buzzing to see it with her own eyes.

It was only once he got close to home driving through the neighbourhood she had lived with her parents whom she watched die, that she clammed up.

You sat in the back of the car with her and watched the way her eyes turned down at the corners as she looked out the window at the familiar houses.

You reached out to her, held her hand.

“It’s ok if you miss them, Wren.” You whispered and her head whipped around to face you.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip, perhaps trying to stop from pouting.

“But I don’t want to make you and Spencer sad.” She spoke in equally hushed tones.

“Hey now silly girl,” Spencer’s right hand appeared between the front seats, blindly reaching for her knee. “You could never make us sad. You have no idea how happy you make us, pumpkin.”

“But you will miss your mommy and daddy and we want you to be able to tell us when you do, ok?” You added, squeezing her hand.

“O-ok.” She nodded, turning back out of the window.

Soon enough Spencer pulled the car to a stop outside of the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door.

He exited the car and rushed around to open Wren’s door while you unbuckled her seatbelt. He lifted her in his arms, spun her around twice, and planted her on her feet on the sidewalk.

She instantly reached for you both, gripping Spencer’s hand in her left and yours in her right.

You and Spencer shared a smile over her head as you led her up to the front door.

The second the door was open a messy haired small mutt ran at full pelt towards the three of you, practically crashing straight into Wren.

She giggled and threw her arms around the dog.

“Rover!” She screeched, burying her face into his matted fur.

Spencer took her bag from her and unzipped it, pulling out the toy Rover and holding him out towards the girl and her dog.

“Rover meet Rover.” He spoke and Wren beamed brightly as she took the toy from him.

She held it in front of the real dog's face and he licked the toy feverishly, making Wren giggle again.

“I think they’re going to be friends!” She cheered happily.

“That’s a relief.” Spencer chuckled, hand naturally slipping in yours.

“Would the Rover’s like to see your new room, honey?” You asked Wren, entwining your fingers with Spencer’s.

“I think so!” She jumped up and down. “Come on big Rover, come on little Rover.”

You and Spencer shared another smile as you led the way, hand in hand, up the stairs and towards the room at the end of the hall.

One of the Rover’s was held by Wren around his neck while the other followed of his own accord. You both stepped aside and motioned for Wren to open the door.

She looked positively giddy with excitement as she reached for the handle. She pushed open the door and Spencer reached inside to flick the lights on.

Her eyes widened as a dozen strings of pumpkin fairy lights cast their glow across the warm autumnal walls, thick cream carpet and everything in between.

She took a few steps inside the room and the two of you watched her eyes flicker between the My Little Pony bed sheets, her name placard above the bed, the bookshelf stuffed full of books, another shelf packed with stuffed animals.

They moved between the dog bed meant for little Rover which big Rover was now already making his way to, to the dresser under the window with a little mirror and her very own chess set.

They made their way to the wardrobe which Spencer had stencilled with falling leaves and little brown birds of her namesake.

Her eyes danced from here to there, there to here and back again. When they finally came to a stop on you and Spencer, they were full of tears.

“This is…for me?” Her bottom lip pouted.

“I don’t know any other little girls called Wren.” Spencer smiled at her.

She suddenly dove at the two of you, one arm wrapping around each of you and nuzzling between you. You felt her small frame racking with sobs and it made your heart melt.

“T-thank you.” She cried, squeezing you both as tightly as she could. “I love you.”

You looked at Spencer, you both had tears welling in your own eyes.

And god dammit if you didn’t love her too.

***

The three of you ate ice cream for dinner on the floor of her bedroom at Wren’s insistence.

You and Spencer played with her and her new collection of stuffed toys, as well as the real life Rover before you took turns reading to her until she finally fell asleep.

Rover was already curled up in the dog bed at the foot of Wren’s bed so you left him there and the two of you quietly crept from the room.

With the day's events you hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened last night and now you were in the corridor, you weren’t sure what room to go to.

Clearly Spencer didn’t either.

He awkwardly scuffed the toe of his candy corn print sock on the carpet whilst rolling his lip between his teeth.

“Should we, uh…talk?” He shrugged.

“Most likely, yes.” You nodded and silently he led the two of you back downstairs to the living room.

You were both quiet, not meeting the others' gaze as you sat in the armchair and him on the couch. The air was thick with tension, and you didn’t even know where to begin with this conversation.

“I know you don’t want to be Wren’s mom.” He suddenly blurted out. “And I’d never ask you to. But I love you and last night was…it was perfect. I don’t want to choose between having you and Wren in my life. I know it wouldn’t be easy because if everything goes to plan I will have a child at the end of it. You think there’s any chance you’d want to date a single dad?”

He was talking so fast all of his words merged into one and it took you a few moments to ascertain what he was saying. But before you could really catch up, he was talking again.

“We get Wren home permanently, you can give up your rights just like you planned. You move out and you go back to your normal case load but maybe…maybe we can work things out? I know it won’t be easy but I don’t care.

You clearly mean a lot to Wren and I know she would love it if you were still a part of her life after all this, even if it’s not as her adoptive mother. And I hope that you can still be part of my life. As my partner, my one true love.

Wren will be my reasonability, I won’t expect anything from you in regards to her. But I don’t want to be without you, even if it means our life is separate from my life with Wren. I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility to think we could make it work. I just think-”

“Spencer,” you had to cut him off or he would spend the next hour rambling. “I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility either.”

“You…you don’t?” He inhaled sharply.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you pushed yourself up and moved slowly closer to him. When you reached him you lowered yourself so you were sitting in his lap. “It’s going to be hard in fact, really hard. But dating a single dad doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. Especially when that single dad is you.”

His hands glided across your back, settling on your shoulder blades and holding you firmly in place,

“We’ll make it work.” He smiled at you, inching closer.

“We’ll make it work.” You repeated just as his lips pressed against yours.

***

The day after Wren was placed with you and Spencer, he and the little girl started excitedly decorating the house for Halloween which was two weeks away.

The house was a menagerie of fake cobwebs which you kept walking into, strings of little ghosts hanging in every doorway. A newly carved pumpkin appeared on the porch every single day you returned home from work.

By the time Halloween rolled around the three of you had fallen into somewhat of a routine.

You had tried to distance yourself from parental activities, as soon as the paperwork was finalised you would be moving out and you didn’t want Wren to get too used to you being around.

The last thing you wanted to do was confuse a child who had already lost her biological parents.

Spencer dropped her at school on the way to Marlborough everyday and picked her up on his way home.

He cooked dinner which the two of them ate together and he saved leftovers for when you arrived home.

Nine times out of ten Wren was already in bed by the time you got home from Quantico which helped. It also gave you alone time with Spencer.

Usually you wouldn’t even be in the door more than ten minutes before he was leading you to the bedroom. You’d been sleeping in his room since Wren had come home, although there was usually little sleeping happening.

You’d both quickly learnt how to be quiet, not wanting to further traumatise the girl by having her hear the two of you having sex.

The routine seemed to work for the three of you, it allowed Spencer and Wren to grow closer whilst allowing you and Spencer to grow closer.

On Halloween night you got out of work slightly earlier but still expected Spencer and Wren to be out trick or treating.

He’d promised the little girl months ago to take her and she’d been so excited for tonight, talking about it non stop since she’d come home with you.

He wanted to make her a costume and you tried to teach Spencer how to sew but when that didn’t work you showed him how YouTube worked so he could learn that way.

He’d slaved over creating her a pumpkin costume which was a little lopsided and probably could have been neater but he was so proud of his creation.

Wren had insisted he dress up too so you arrived home to find Dracula in your living room.

“What happened to trick or treating?” You asked as you stepped in the door and hung your jacket up.

“Oh hey,” he smiled brightly as soon as he saw you, moving closer to you. He went to kiss you but then remembered the fake blood on his mouth and refrained. “We’re about to leave, Wren is just getting dressed.”

“Did she love her costume?”

“You have no idea. I’ve never heard a five year old scream before and I’m not sure it’s something I want to relive in a hurry.” He chuckled, straightening up his cape. “Now you’re home you can join us.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“Oh come on, she’d love it if you came.” Spencer gave you his puppy dog eyes which you tried to ignore.

“You’re the parent.” You reminded him. “And besides, someone should stay home with Rover.”

“Rover is ten years old and sleeps all day.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. I just-”

You were cut off by the sound of Wren running down the stairs. When she appeared in her pumpkin costume, complete with orange painted face, she was smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “I’m a pumpkin!”

“Oh wow, you look great!” You cheered.

She beamed, happily showing off her costume like a proud parent.

“Are you coming trick or treating with us?” She asked with expectant green eyes.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Please! You have to come!” She jiggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Yeah Y/N,” Spencer smirked at you. “You have to.”

“I don’t have a costume.” You shrugged.

“Leave that to me.” Spencer stepped closer to you and took hold of your hand. “Wren give us five minutes and we’ll head out, ok?”

“Ok!” She nodded, moving aside so Spencer could lead you upstairs.

You let him lead you to the bedroom, which he’d done countless times before but you knew this wasn’t for the reasons you would like.

“I took the liberty of picking something up for you at the costume store when I was getting mine.” He let go of your hand so he could open the closet.

“Of course you did.” You sighed.

He pulled out an outfit in a costume bag and turned it to face you. Inside was sheathed all the makings of a witches costume.

A long, flowy purple crushed velvet dress with long, billowy sleeves. A black wig. A pointy hat.

You rolled your eyes as you took it from him, trying to ignore the stupid look on his face.

“Fine, I will wear it. But you are not painting my face.”

“Deal.” He grinned, in a smug way knowing he’d won.

***

Ten minutes later the three of you were out the door. Dracula, the witch and the pumpkin.

Wren was full of excitement as she skipped on just ahead of you, swinging her little bucket she hoped to fill with candy.

“She’s your problem when she won’t sleep tonight because she’s hopped up on sugar.” You spoke as Spencer slipped his hand in yours.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, eyes never leaving the back of the curly haired pumpkin. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did I have a choice?” You joked.

Spencer briefly glanced at the side of your face before focusing back on Wren who was now making her way up a front porch of one of your neighbours houses. The two of you hung back by the gate.

“You don’t like spending time with her.” He looked back at you while Wren was busy getting her candy.

“That’s not true. I love spending time with her, she’s an amazing kid. But I don’t want her to get used to me being around all the time. She lost her mom and dad, I don’t want her to see me as a parental figure only to lose me too.”

Spencer’s hand slipped from yours and he quickly pocketed both of his hands. You frowned at him as he turned away from you.

“Right. Of course.” He watched Wren smile and thank Mrs Taylor for the candy.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” You glared at him.

“Nothing. I just forget sometimes what a hardship this is for you.”

“Spencer, I never said-”

“What did you get, pumpkin?” He cut you off as Wren came running back over, his tone lightening as he regarded her.

Wren showed off her haul and soon you were continuing on. Spencer walked with Wren now, holding her free hand while you hung back.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that this would get complicated. But why did it?

***

The night ended worse than it started. When your rounds of the neighbourhood took you past the old Briar house, the home where Wren watched her parents die, it came to an abrupt end with tears.

Spencer carried her home while she sobbed in his arms. He put her to bed and spent a long time coddling her while she cried for her parents.

He found you in the living room, your wig and hat on the coffee table. You stood from the couch when he entered the room.

“I don’t really feel like company tonight so maybe you should just stay in the guest room.” His jaw was clenched tightly as he spoke.

“Right, sure.” You nodded.

He turned away from you, started towards the stairs before quickly turned back around.

“You know what actually, maybe you should look into moving back into your apartment. This place is kinda crowded. You only need to be here when Jenny visits anyway, there’s no point in you being here all the time. And that way Wren won’t get attached to you and it’ll make it easier all round.” He turned again but before he could get too far you grabbed him by the wrist.

“Spencer, please don’t say that. We talked about this, we had a plan, we-”

“Stop it, please.” He cut you off. “I can’t do this right now, ok? I have a little girl upstairs who I had to rock to sleep because she couldn’t stop crying about her dead parents. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with all this right now.”

“Fine.” You clenched your jaw to stop the tears falling. “But let me just say it isn’t fair for you to act this way when we had an agreement. You knew what my involvement was going to be in all of this and the plan was never for me to be her mother!”

“The plan?” He suddenly spat. “The goddamn plan? You make it sound so clinical!”

“I thought it was.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you expect that I was going to wake up one day and change my mind? Was that what you hoped for here? That I’d play happy families and realise this is what I wanted?”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Yes, that's exactly what I hoped would happen. Excuse me for believing that two people who are as in love as I thought we were could raise a child together.”

“Maybe I should move out.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“I’ll help you pack.” With that he turned again and this time you let him go.

You watched as he ascended the staircase, clearly wanting to make more noise about it but not wanting to wake Wren.

Once you heard his bedroom door shut you fell back to the couch and your tears unleashed.

What had possessed you into thinking this would be a good idea? You’d wanted to help Spencer and never once stopped to think of the ramifications.

Like it or not you and Wren had grown close, despite your best efforts. Your leaving would be hard on her. And it would be hard on you too.

You’d come to care for that little girl even though you’d tried so hard not to. You weren’t ready to be a mom, or so you thought, but Wren had wormed her way into your heart.

And now you were going to lose her and Spencer through your own stubbornness.

Well done, Y/N, you thought to yourself as you cried. You’ve really gone and fucked this up.

***

The following day Spencer dropped Wren off at school, thankfully in a much brighter mood than she had been the previous night.

You both had the day off work for Jenny’s weekly visit and if she noticed the awkwardness between the two of you she didn’t mention it.

Spencer was amazing at keeping his emotions in check when he needed to and even you believed he was happy.

You sat amicably and drank tea while Spencer filled the social worker in on your Halloween night, glossing over all the bad parts.

It struck you that Jenny wasn’t taking notes like usual, didn’t even have her notebook out. You weren’t sure if Spencer noticed or not or if he was too busy pretending he had the perfect family to notice.

When the tea dried up along with the conversation, Jenny pulled a manilla envelope out of her briefcase and proffered it forward.

Spencer took it with a frown, in the corner in black ink it read simply: Re: Wren Briar - Reid Y/L/N.

“Uh,” he ran his fingers over the envelope and looked up at Jenny with a frown. “What is this?”

Jenny smiled softly, a smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

“Congratulations,” she spoke sincerely. “That is your official adoption papers. Wren is now formally in the care of the two of you.”

You felt a flurry of emotions all at once and you didn’t know which one to focus on. But you were distracted from that when Spencer, out of nowhere, started sobbing.

“S-seriously?” He stuttered, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Seriously, Doctor Reid.” Jenny smiled. “I know it’s been a long and difficult process, but it’s over now.”

“Oh my god.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh my god.”

Seeing the happiness on Spencer’s face made your own tears fall and you gripped him tightly.

“We did it, Spence. We did it.” You cried.

Jenny saw herself out as the two of you continued to cry. At some point Spencer wrapped you in his arms and sobbed into your shoulder while you did the same into his chest.

Eventually both your tears started letting up and he sat back and wiped the stains on your cheek. He was smiling shakily at you and you returned the gesture.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want to do this without you. I know this wasn’t part of the plan but-”

“Screw the plan.” You cut him off. “Plans change. I can’t ignore the feeling of elation and relief I felt when Jenny told us. Goddamnit I love Wren, I love her so much. And I want to be her mother, Spencer, I really want that.”

“You…” he choked. “You do?”

“Yes. This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself but life isn’t straightforward. Things happen, plans change. I found my family. And it’s you and Wren.” You smiled as your tears started up again.

Spencer was quick to tug you back into his arms and hold you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He nuzzled against your neck and placed soft kisses on your flesh.

“I love you so much.” He cried. “And I love our little found family.”

You stayed like this for some time, until you needed to pick Wren up from school. For the first time you and Spencer went together.

When you told her the news she jumped up and down and squeezed you both as tightly as her little arms would allow and it filled your heart to the brim.

There was no doubt in your mind that this was where you were supposed to be.

As she planted big sloppy kisses on yours and Spencer’s cheeks, you heard him whisper, welcome to the family little pumpkin.

***

Four Months Later

The noise from the backyard filtered in through the open door, little voices chattering, the occasional screech of excitement, giggle from tiny lungs and small feet pitter pattering in the grass.

You poured yourself a glass of water and sipped from it while you observed the chaos.

It was Wren’s sixth birthday and damn near every child in her school had descended on your home. The BAU team members and their kids were all in attendance and you wondered if your garden would ever be the same again.

There was a bounce house in one corner, a magician in the other - for which Spencer had begrudged paying for when he could have done it himself.

You’d insisted he wanted to be more present for the event, really enjoy the memories made today on her first birthday as your daughter.

Rover had long ago distanced himself from children pulling his matted fur and retired to his bed in Wren’s room. You couldn’t blame him, you’d half contemplated joining him.

You were exhausted from all the planning, from the demands of motherhood and still trying to hold down your job at the BAU, albeit only part time now.

You hadn’t even stopped to consider how tiring the party would actually be.

You felt a presence behind you and spun on your heels to find Spencer smiling at you as he sidled up to you. He moved in close and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Are you as tired as I am?” He chuckled.

“I don’t think anyone is as tired as you, you’re the life and soul of this party.” You teased him. “I saw Wren dragging you on to the bounce house.”

“It’s been a long time since my old knee injury hurt this bad.” He grumbled a little. “But it’s worth it to see her happy.”

“I can’t believe she’s six already. The months are flying by.” You sighed wistfully.

“She’ll be eighteen and going off to college any day now.” He laughed.

“Bringing boys home.”

“Don’t you dare!” He gasped. “Do not put that idea in my head.”

“Sorry,” you smiled sweetly. “It’s a long way off.”

“It better be.” He shook his head.

“So, uh…I got you something.” You reached behind you and grabbed the small, neatly wrapped gift off of the kitchen counter.

Spencer frowned at it as he took it somewhat cautiously.

“You got me a gift? For our daughter's birthday?” He ran his fingertips over the wrapping paper curiously.

“Just open it and be grateful.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

Still with a frown on his face, Spencer tore the gift wrap, the same kind as you used to wrap the obscene amount of gifts you’d brought Wren.

You held your breath and waited, your nerves getting the better of you and you leaned back against the counter top as your legs shook a little.

Spencer’s deft fingers made quick work of the paper, tossing it aside like the excited six year old had with her own gifts.

Once opened he stared at the item in his hand. Approximately five inches long. Thin. Hard plastic.

You watched him stare at it as if it was a completely foreign object, patiently waiting for him to look up, to say something.

His hands started to tremble and when he finally did look up at you, tears swam in his eyes.

“Is this…for real?” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.

“It’s like the fifth one I took so I’m fairly certain.” You nodded, feeling your own eyes fill with tears. “Wren’s going to be a big sister.”

Pregnancy test still in hand, he suddenly threw his arms around you and squeezed you so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs.

“We’re having another child?” He whispered against your neck.

“This family just keeps growing.” You laughed as you wrapped him in your arms.

You wiped away your tears, not wanting to be seen crying at Wren’s birthday party. But soon your moment was over, and you were being forced away from each other.

“Mommy, daddy, is it time for cake?” Wren’s voice carried in from the garden.

You sprung apart and stared at each other, a new batch of tears in both of your eyes for completely different reasons.

“Did she just…” you breathed, voice slightly horse.

“I think so.” Spencer sniffed, a delighted smile on his face.

Thus far Wren had always called you both by your names which was entirely understandable. Spencer had always told her she could call you mom and dad if and when she felt it was right.

“As if this day wasn’t perfect enough.” He wiped his eyes, pocketing the pregnancy test after giving it one last look.

“We better go, daddy.” You winked at him and went to pass him but he grabbed you by the waist.

“Oh jeez, why is that so hot when you say it?” He growled, bowing his head and placing kisses on your neck, making you giggle.

“Really?” You smirked.

“Really.” He hissed, stepping back and nodding to his crotch where you can instantly see the bulge forming in his slacks.

“Hmm, I’ll bear that in mind daddy.” You chuckled and he let out a soft low moan.

But before he could reply, you were summoned again.

“Mommy, daddy!” Wren hollered from the yard.

“Ok, not so sexy anymore.” He shook his head, stepping further back. “I’ll get the cake.”

“I’ll get my phone so I can film you and your horrible singing.” You gently kissed his cheek before he walked away.

Spencer lit the six candles on the pumpkin shaped birthday cake and cautiously carried it through to the yard while he began singing happy birthday.

All the kids and adults joined in as Wren beamed from ear to ear as all eyes were on her. You held your cellphone steady, hovering by the back door where you filmed the chorus.

When the song was over everybody cheered and Wren sucked in a huge breath before blowing out the candles.

You watched on as Spencer placed a kiss in her messy dark hair and she smiled brightly at her dad in return.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the two of them, Wren bouncing excitedly in her chair while Spencer went about cutting the cake into slices for all the children.

Spencer handed her the first slice and she gorged on it, stuffing the cake in her mouth and leaving icing smudged around her lips.

It was crazy how much things had changed in such a short space of time. Six months ago you never would have pictured yourself here, a mother to a six year old and growing another child inside of you.

Life has a funny way of giving us exactly what we want at exactly the wrong time. But for you and Spencer and Wren, the world had worked its magic and done you all the biggest favour.

It had given the three of you the kind of love you all so sorely needed, it had offered a home to three people who were out in the cold. It had created a family, who in eight months time would have a new addition to it.

Ultimately all we really strive for in life is to find somewhere to belong, and although it may have been unexpected, it was safe to say that you, Spencer and Wren had found that somewhere with each other.

@ultragirrl @wittlewowa @bxtchopolis @coldheartedmar

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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stillwintering · 6 months

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All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: A modern AU set in the throes of a political campaign. Rhys is running for president. Feyre asks her estranged sister Nesta to join the campaign team. Nesta couldn't turn down a front-row seat to one of the most compelling political stories of the year: a promising upstart with a dream, running a long-shot campaign for president. Little does she know that she's going to have to work closely with Cassian, one of Rhys' top deputies, who infuriates her to no end.

Of course, Nesta and Cassian fall for each other despite themselves. There is drama and politics and idiots in love.

(Nessian focused but lots of Feysand to keep things interesting.)

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Amren was a ruthless campaign veteran. She ran a tight ship. It was a small but efficient operation, with Azriel and Cassian running point on research and fieldwork, respectively. Amren gave Feyre assignments that played into her strengths. Nesta had observed many failed campaigns where the candidate’s spouse was either sidelined or misused. But Feyre was the center of Rhys's campaign, its very beating heart.

By the end of the first week in her new role, Nesta was exhausted but also exhilarated. She hadn't been excited by a political campaign in a long time.

"We will formally announce by the end of the month," Amren said during their Friday morning team meeting. "We need a final push to up our fundraising. Then we can set up field offices in Iowa as soon as we have enough money available."

They were all cramped into Rhys's office, standing room only. There wasn't quite enough space for all of them to fit comfortably. Nesta felt like Azriel and Cassian took up all the oxygen with their imposing size. Cassian always seemed to hover just a tad too close, encroaching on her personal space. She found it mildly distracting.

Nesta held her laptop open with one arm and typed with her remaining free hand, trying not to bump into Cassian's elbow. "We still need to identify your key policy goals for our first ad campaign," she said. "You will need a strong and clear message to build your communication strategy around. I'm not sure the material you have already will play well in swing states."

Rhys nodded. "I'm needed in the House all of next week. We are voting on the new immigration bill. It will be tight." Rhys flipped through his calendar. "Amren, can you find a time for all of us to sit down and discuss this as soon as possible?"

"What about this weekend?" Nesta pushed.

Feyre shook her head. "There's the Hewn charity gala on Saturday," she said. "And Rhys and I are suppose to be at three different fundraisers in Virginia."

Nesta didn't bother looking up from her computer. "Fine then, I'll put something together first," she paused. "You're going to the Hewn charity gala?"

"We're all going," Azriel said. "Rhys needs to butter up some donors."

"I hate those things," Rhys sighed.

Nesta frowned. "In the future, I would appreciate the fundraising schedule earlier."

"An unintentional oversight," Feyre quickly said. Amren waved her hand in acknowledgment. "Things have been moving so fast that I forgot to tell you. Do you want to come?"

The Hewn family were major political donors. They were always looking for ways to bend policy to suit their family's business interests. Keir, the current patriarch, had been particularly brazen in advancing his political agenda among lawmakers with the promise of money and access. Nesta did not trust any politician too entangled with the Hewn family.

But the Hewn charity gala was one of the premiere events inside the Beltway. Despite their terrible politics, the Hewns were old money and high society. Everyone who was anyone in Washington would be there.

"Wouldn't I need a formal invitation from the Hewn family?" Nesta asked, considering. "Is attending the gala a requirement?"

Amren was typing away on her phone, already moving on to more pressing business. "Campaigning is a 24/7 job, girl. Everything is required," she said without looking up.

"You're in the inner circle now," Cassian turned and gave her an impish grin. "Of course, you are invited."

"I'll call Mor about adding you to the guest list," Feyre nodded. "You should be there. If anything, to keep Cassian out of trouble."

---

Nesta was no stranger to black-tie events. But she felt nervous as she entered the stately gardens of the Hewn Mansion. The reception was already in full swing. The gardens were immaculately designed, with well-manicured trees forming a canopy and steel art installations tucked tastefully between flower beds, full of spring blooms. The cocktail tables were spread across the lawn. The large stone patio in front of the mansion was where the dinner tables were being set. A small string orchestra sat just off to the side of the patio, filling the night air with music. The bejeweled crowd was glittering under the gilded lights.

She saw Azriel first. "Please tell me you know where the bar is," she said as soon as she was close enough.

Azriel, dressed in a beautiful midnight blue dinner jacket, smiled and immediately handed her his champagne flute. "I haven't started yet, but you look like you need it more than me," he said. "Don't worry, Cass is coming back with more drinks."

"Thank you, Azriel." Nesta took the champagne gratefully. She took a deep swig.

He watched her with an amused look. "Just Az," he said. "You look beautiful by the way."

Nesta would have normally bristled at the compliment, but Azriel's words seemed sincere, meant to put her at ease. "You don't look half bad yourself," she returned.

Nesta managed to get her finest gown dry-cleaned on time for the gala. It was made of black silk taffeta with a plunging neckline almost to her navel. She wore her hair in a braided coronet and added a pair of her biggest diamond earrings.

She took another drink. "Where is Amren?"

"Oh, she doesn't come to these things," Azriel replied.

Nesta laughed. "Of course," she shook her head in mock disbelief. "And after she said the campaign never sleeps!”

"To be fair," Azriel chuckled. "Amren would definitely scare off all the donors."

"Why is everyone --"

"Az," a sultry female voice called from behind them. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Azriel turned and grinned. "Mor," he said, a tenderness in how he spoke her name. He paused as if taking in her presence. Mor was drop-dead gorgeous -- golden hair and deep brown eyes -- a rare kind of beauty that was both fierce and graceful.

“This is Nesta, she joined the campaign this week."

"Ah yes, the new communications director." Mor shook Nesta's hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you earlier. I've been away in California, lining up donors for Rhys."

"You must be Morrigan Hewn," Nesta said.

"We all call her Mor," Cassian walked up alongside her, passing another champagne flute to Azriel. Cassian was dressed in a simple but exquisite black formal suit -- it accentuated his impressive physique. His hair was carefully groomed and swept away from his face. Nesta had known Cassian -- and Rhys and Az -- to be handsome, but seeing Cassian all dressed up made his rugged features sharper, more dangerous.

"She's in charge of sniffing out where the money is," he teased.

Mor swatted Cassian on his side. "I'm in charge of making sure this little show goes on."

Cassian laughed. He threw an arm over her shoulders. "I'm glad to have you back in town," he said fondly. "I don't think I can do one of these stuffy parties without you."

Mor turned, her red dress swishing with her movements. "Come on," she looped Cassian's arm around her own. "I know where my father keeps the good liquor."

Azriel, ever the gentleman, offered Nesta his own arm and they followed Mor and Cassian towards the Mansion. In front of them, Mor was leaning into Cassian, saying something against his ear that made him shake with laughter. They were so familiar with each other, so close. Nesta wondered if they were or had ever been lovers. But then she wondered why she cared.

---

They were all sat at Mor's table for dinner. Nesta found her place card between Azriel and Cassian. Keir Hewn gave a speech, while Mor rolled her eyes. Nesta scrolled through her phone and answered emails, only half listening to the charitable causes of the evening being introduced.

After the 5-course dinner, Feyre finally appeared, looking flustered, dropping into an empty seat next to Mor. Nesta hadn't seen Rhys or Feyre all evening. "God," Feyre sighed. "I think my face hurts from all the smiling."

"Is Rhys still talking to Beron?" Azriel asked.

Feyre nodded. "Yes, the Speaker of the House demands all his attention about the vote next week. I managed to excuse myself," she picked up a piece of bread. "I didn't even have a chance to eat yet. I'm starving."

"Let me guess, Beron wants to poison any chance of immigration reform," Cassian said and offered Feyre what was left on his plate.

Feyre nodded, taking the food gratefully. "He wants Rhys to introduce an amendment to rile up the opposing party," she said. "Beron doesn't want anything to pass that will divert funds from the Defense Department."

"Rhys is not going to do that right?" Nesta asked.

Feyre looked pained.

Nesta felt heated. "This bill is the best thing that has made it out of committee in over two administrations," Nesta started. "Beron is a snake. You can't --"

"Let Rhys handle Beron tonight," Cassian cut in.

Nesta glared. "Don't interrupt me when I am speaking."

Cassian dipped his head. "It's a party," his voice was gentle. "You can chew Rhys out first thing Monday morning for all I care."

Feyre looked relieved. She reached for a wine glass and finished it in one swig. Then, as if remembering something, Feyre picked up her phone. "I have to call Elain!" she exclaimed. "She must be putting Nyx to bed now."

Nesta snapped her attention back to her sister. "Elain?"

Feyre tapped away on her phone. "Elain's been staying with Rhys and I. She's helping with Nyx since we've been so busy with the campaign and all," Feyre explained. "Excuse me," she stood up, pressing the phone to her ear.

Nesta's gaze followed her sister as she walked into a quiet corner of the garden. Her face was full of love and delight -- no doubt saying goodnight to her son over the phone. Nesta's eyes stung. Elain, who hadn't returned Nesta's calls for months, was living with Feyre?

Cassian seemed to notice that something was upsetting her. "I'm sorry if I was rude," he began. "Nesta --"

She gave Cassian a withering look and stood up. "I need to stretch my legs."

Elain picked Feyre. Nesta's head was a roar.

---

Nesta wandered the garden grounds aimlessly, still processing the new information. Growing up, Nesta had always been closer to Elain. The two of them had been thick as thieves. Feyre, being the third, was just a little too young for the activities the two older sisters got into. But since their mother's death and then their father's, the sisters had drifted apart. Nesta took their mother's death the hardest. She was always their mother's favorite. Nesta admitted that, maybe, she had isolated herself long before their father's death six years ago. But she had thought Elain and her were still on good terms. The last she heard, Elain had moved to start a yoga studio in upstate New York. When did she move to Washington? Why didn't she return her calls?

"Nesta?" a man's voice brought her back to reality.

Nesta turned to a pair of amber eyes greeting her. "Eris?"

He smiled; it was practically feline. "Nesta Archeron, as I live and breathe."

She allowed herself to be wrapped in a hug. Eris kissed her cheek.

"I didn't know you were back in the swamp," his voice dropped an octave. "I would have called."

Nesta shoved him away. "You're still the same as ever, Eris."

"And you're still ravishing as ever," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "What disgusting hole did you climb out of this time?" Nesta let herself enjoy the distraction. "How many bodies did you have to clamber over?"

"I'm Chief of Staff to the Speaker of the House." Eris was bragging, not backing down.

"Ah, so you're Beron's new lackey," she surveyed him. Eris looked impeccable in his luxurious bespoke suit, not a single hair out of place. He was attractive -- Nesta admitted -- but too slick and calculating. Yet Nesta liked the challenge -- this heady game they played.

"You still haven't told me what you're doing in DC," Eris asked. "Will I have the pleasure of seeing you around these things more regularly?"

"I'm here for my sister." A half-truth.

"I was just beginning to think that this little gala was a giant waste of time," Eris leaned in closer to her, his hand on her back, his breath hot against her face. "It's so like you to always prove me wrong."

Nesta's cheeks flushed. She looked towards the stone patio, where most of the guests were still seated for dinner. She didn't like that they were standing so close together, out on the lawn where everyone else could see them.

Eris looked up from her and towards the party, towards her table where Mor, Cassian, and Azriel were huddled together and cackling.

"Don't tell me you're swept up in that silly little Starborn campaign," Eris said, his voice dripping with contempt.

She didn't bother to reply.

Eris snorted, full of arrogance. "Your talents are utterly wasted there."

Nesta shook him off her. "And Beron is making full use of your talents, I'm sure," she spat back.

He chuckled and let her go. His fingers grazed the small of her back. "When you get bored of that little affair," he nodded towards Mor's table. "Come play with me and I'll show you what real power feels like."

Nesta’s skin tingled in both visceral disgust and -- she hated herself -- anticipation. "You're a pig, Vanserra," she shot over her shoulder as she made her way back towards her seat.

---

Rhys must have shaken a hundred hands tonight. He hated fundraising, hated having to grovel and flatter a bunch of smug egomaniacs with too much money for their own good. By the time Rhys finally made it to his friends, he was exhausted from talking.

"That bad?" Cassian asked when he sat down.

"Beron said he would direct funds from the Congressional Campaign Committee towards us," Rhys said.

Azriel whistled. "And what does he want in return?"

Rhys shook his head. "Let's talk about this later." He slumped against his chair.

Feyre draped her arms around him. "Should we go?" she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Nyx told me he missed how you do the voices in his bedtime story."

Rhys smiled the first genuine smile all night. "Feyre darling, there is nothing I'd like more than going home with you tonight."

Cassian groaned. Rhys and Feyre laughed and walked hand-in-hand inside to make their final rounds.

Mor was distracted. She was looking over them, out onto the lawns of the garden. "Is Nesta talking to... Eris?"

Cassian followed Mor's gaze. He couldn't help the scowl that crept into his face.

"I didn't know they knew each other," Mor said. She was frowning too. Eris was not one of their favorite people, to put it mildly.

"Nesta knows a lot of people who works on the Hill," Azriel supplied. "Maybe Eris had been one of her past sources."

Cassian watched as Eris leaned into her and Nesta pushed him away. The way Eris looked at Nesta -- it wasn't threatening but something else entirely. Nesta seemed only half-hearted in her rebuffs. It made Cassian feel queasy.

Eris Vanserra was a cold-blooded political killer. He had no qualms about who he had to destroy in his path to power. Mor had been unfortunate enough to experience firsthand, many years ago, how ruthless Eris could be for the sake of winning. Cassian seethed.

When Nesta returned to her seat, the table was silent.

"What?" She asked, looking around her. Mor and Azriel did not meet her gaze. "Did you guys all decide to sell the campaign out to Beron while I was gone?"

"We could ask you the same thing," Cassian retorted. He couldn't help himself.

Nesta stood up immediately, angry that she had let herself be seen with Eris. Nesta held the golden fire in Cassian's hazel eyes. She did not want to dignify his remark with a response. "Good night," she said curtly to the table and walked away.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Azriel pivoted to Cassian.

He looked after Nesta as she disappeared into the throng of people around the silent auction inside the Mansion and bit his lip in regret.

---

Rhys and Feyre bid them farewell soon after. Cassian found himself passing around Keir Hewn's 30-year-old scotch with Azriel and Mor. They have been here many times before: at the end of the night, the three of them together, Mor draped over him, and Azriel out drinking them all.

But Cassian couldn't help but replay the image of Nesta and Eris together out on the lawn. Eris was a sly bastard. What did Nesta see in him? He didn't allow himself to finish the thought.

As the night wound down, Cassian tugged off his bow tie. This evening was not one of his finest showings. Mor was busy with something on her phone. Azriel watched Mor. Cassian looked away, running his hand through his hair.

Movements by the Mansion doors drew his attention. Cassian noticed among the crowds exiting the party, Nesta -- in her devastating black gown -- leaving with Eris. He caught Nesta's eye -- blue-grey and steely -- before she turned for the gates with Eris' arm around her waist. Eris's fingers brushed against her bare, exposed skin.

Cassian had a knot in his stomach and he didn't know why.

"You're staring," Azriel said with a knowing smirk.

Mor looked up from her phone. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Cassian sighed, shaking off his feeling of unease. "Just pass me the scotch, Az."

---

Thanks for all the support! I haven't written fanfiction in years. But this little story worm got in my head, so I'm relearning how to use Tumblr/AO3 again. Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list.

Tag list: @acourtofladydeath @fwiggle @swifti-ed

#fanfic #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #cassian #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #all's fair in love and politics #modern au #political au #feysand

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theculturedmarxist · 4 months

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I hate to have to fucking rush in and Correct The Record™ on behalf of Trump so often but unfortunately he's also kind of the epitome of "the worst person you know made a great point."

He's absolutely a loathsome hypocrite and just as corrupt as the people he criticized, but there's a reason all that "drain the swamp" rhetoric resonated with people, and it was because everything he said about how crooked everyone in Washington is, from Obama and Hillary on down, and how badly they all deserve to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, was absolutely true.

It's really unfortunate though how the Democratic party in particular along with all the other awful cunts inside and around the beltway have been rehabilitated just because they've been juxtaposed with someone that is, allegedly, even worse.

#trump

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tennessoui · 2 months

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heya kit!! I read you were moving to DC and I was just there this weekend for awesome con! I got to meet hayden and all I could think about was how he seems like the guy from KUWTSK anakin irl *melts into a puddle* 😍😍😍

ahh! i actually live in the dc area now and am moving away - we just missed each other as i was not in dc this weekend but spent much of saturday stuck on the beltway trying to get to maryland costco and much of today stuck inside for fear of blowing away due to the crazy winds

#asks #internet safety i dont know her #i forgot the con was happening omg #i remember last year i was around the convention center area during the con and i saw so many jedi it was very wholesome #saw a dude that looked like/was dressed as a shorter obi-wan entering a ramen place and i was like huh do i want ramen right now...#i hope you had fun!!!#sounds like a great time #also omg you thought of kuwsk around the actor who inspired it im dying i love that for us #thank you for telling me

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mariacallous · 8 months

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Mina Hsiang returned to the United States Digital Service, the US government's rapid digital fix-it squad, on January 26, 2021, when the streets of Washington, DC, had hardly been cleared after Joe Biden’s inauguration. She was one of the group’s founding members but had spent the past few years working for a health care startup. Upon her return, Hsiang worked on Covid response, and in September 2021, she became the third administrator of the USDS.

Her timing was impeccable. The organization had sprung from the infamous HeathCare.gov debacle in 2013, when the website for selecting insurance plans under the new Obamacare law crashed badly. Hsiang was a key member of the scrappy rescue team that turned things around, using principles of web design that were common in Silicon Valley operations but underutilized in government. Their methods flew in the face of typical arrangements in federal agencies, which would contract out digital operations to legacy firms with Beltway connections. Those six- or seven-figure contracts seldom demanded benchmark performances and often took years to complete, or were never finished at all. The tiny team of idealistic rescuers not only helped design a cleaner avenue to health insurance, but charmed the lifers at Health and Human Services (HHS) into enlisting them to fix up digital government more broadly.

The idea behind the new USDS was to bottle the same guerilla spirit that had saved HealthCare.gov. Ideally, these volunteers from the commercial tech firms would win the hearts and minds of people inside agencies like the Veterans Affairs (VA) or HHS, infiltrating their calcified cultures with the can-do spirit and constant iteration of a startup and creating digital government services as slick as the latest app from Silicon Valley.

I spoke to Hsiang this week about how the USDS is faring after two years under her leadership. During the Trump years, the agency had to scramble just to stay alive, no easy task when a target was tacked onto anything even tangentially related to Obama. The team survived through a combination of lying low and doing productive work. They managed to thread that needle, in part, because Jared Kushner was at one point infatuated with the concept. Nonetheless, USDS wasn’t thriving when Hsiang returned. “The last administration had done a lot to undermine staffing,” she says.

Hsiang took over just as things were looking up. Biden’s 2021 American Rescue Plan directed an astonishing $200 million to the USDS, ballooning its previously modest budget. That enabled USDS coders and designers to work with more agencies and start new programs. “There was just a ton of demand across government. So it was, ‘OK, how do we rebuild, scale, and up level,’” says Hsiang. It also helped that late in 2021, Biden issued an executive order making human-centered design a key part of the federal government’s digital interface with citizens. One radical idea: “In all sectors, services should reduce burdens, not increase them.”

The head count of USDS is now around 215, up from 80 when Hsiang ended her first stint with the group. “About a third of those are returners,” Hsiang says. Despite what she calls the “anti-sell”—a warning about the restrictions and financial implications of working for the government—“People still want to show up.”

Another part of her task was steadying the ship. Despite a number of victories in agencies ranging from the VA to the Department of Defense, USDS has enemies. Not surprisingly, some of those fat-cat contractors who enjoyed no-blame deals to create bloated databases that didn’t work pushed to constrain or kill this threat to their business models and self-respect. And apparently some critics just don’t like the idea of people in hoodies churning out code in the basements of federal agencies. The USDS has always dealt with pushback in Congress, and this summer some legislators launched an unsuccessful (for now) effort to strip $80 million from the USDS budget, claiming that the service wasn’t accountable. “What the hell are they working on?” one anonymous government critic said to FedScoop.

It’s actually pretty easy to see what the USDS is working on if you know where to look. You can find their work, for instance, on the Social Security Administration homepage, which has been revamped and streamlined with USDS input. “In November of last year it had 70,000 pages for you to navigate to find information,” Hsiang says. “We got it down to 280, which is much more digestible.”

Or consider the website that allowed Americans to order home delivery of free Covid tests. Instead of asking people dozens of questions before they could sign up, the drop-dead simple form just asked where to send the darn things. Yes, there was a speed bump when the site couldn’t parse some addresses for citizens who lived in multifamily residences, but that was quickly resolved. Two-thirds of American households ultimately participated, with over 755 million tests distributed. “It was a phenomenal example of the partnership between USDS and agencies and the White House and the US Postal Service—of how we can all work together,” says Hsiang. “We can restore trust by having a thing that operates as you would expect it to, that looks more like the products we all choose to use every day, rather than the ones we have to use.”

There’s a long way to go, of course. Matthew Desmond, in his book Poverty by America, describes how millions of Americans don’t take advantage of vital programs because they are difficult to access. “I think a lot about the opportunity for technology to reduce that administrative burden,” says Hsiang. One problem, she notes, is that getting help often requires a citizen to access programs from multiple agencies that are poorly coordinated. “One of our superpowers is our ability to work between multiple agencies.”

One missed opportunity is the failure of the Biden Administration to fill the post of chief technology officer of the United States. “It would definitely be better to have an incredible partner in that office,” Hsiang concedes. On the other hand, Biden’s current chief of staff, Jeff Zients, is deeply familiar with USDS, since he was once in charge of the HealthCare.gov rescue. “He brings us in and ensures that programs are running the right way,” Hsiang says.

I ask Hsiang how USDS regards generative AI because, well, my license as a tech pundit would be revoked if I failed to do that. “We’re looking at it very carefully,” she says—a line currently mandatory for those in her line of work. She cites concerns that AI bots might infect services with bias. But like it or not, the AI boom has to be dealt with. Hsiang cites an HHS website called Grants.gov that takes submissions for thousands of funding applications. A flood of AI-generated pitches is expected. “We need to respond to that,” she says. The USDS is also experimenting with ways to use generative AI inside government services. “We’re hiring for folks who really understand how to use and implement AI systems,” she says.

One thing hasn’t changed at USDS: its desire to spread a positive contagion of citizen-centric tech efforts among those bureaucracies. “One of our hypotheses early on is to see if we can do this culture change, with different ways of operating and thinking, and make it sustainable,” says Hsiang. “We’re currently working with about a dozen agencies who are trying to think through how they can build that capability internally.”

One indicator of this shift: The patient Hsiang first joined the government to save is thriving. Transcending its disastrous beginning, HealthCare.gov no longer requires outside support from the group’s geeky fixers.

Time Travel

In January 2017, I wrote about the United States Digital Service’s accomplishments, as well as its uncertain prospects under a president who might not be inclined to continue the Obama-created agency of tech hackers dedicated to Silicon Valley-izing government IT.

As the inauguration approaches, the mood swings at the USDS are Calder-esque. Dickerson describes it as “a high school graduation and a massive layoff mixed with a funeral that’s gone on for two months.” On the Facebook feeds of politically appointed tech surgers you see photos of final handshakes with the president; they’re wearing uncharacteristically formal garb and are often with their families; they have been ushered into the Oval Office for mutual thanks. Obama himself bid farewell to the team at a ceremony on the steps of the Executive Office Building last Thursday. He spent the better part of an hour thanking the team and telling them what a difference they made.

But they know it already, and the experience has made many of them reluctant to return to their previous lives inside profit-making corporations. Those jobs don’t seem so meaningful anymore. Some are sticking around the DC area, even though they hate it as a place to live. There’s talk about a loose network of tech surge alumni engaging in a new kind of insurgency—outside the government but with the same end of serving the people.

“Every hint I ever had was that the infrastructure of civilization was someone else’s problem,” says Matthew Weaver. “What a lie that was. It was my problem. I’m lucky to have the skills to address this. Now I want everyone who has an inkling of this to understand … to say, this is my problem.”

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thedamageofherdays · 2 years

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since you wrote that hot as fuck daddy kink fic, do you have some recs for similar fics?

Thank you so much for reading Need, I am so happy to hear you thought it was hot. That means a lot to me <3

I definitely have some recs for you!

The Enough Space (for you and me) series by @metalbvcky

pretty baby you have me (so weak) by @theycallmeinevitable

Literally any of @howdoyousleep3's Daddies but especially the Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes series and the Senator Steve Rogers/Intern Bucky Barnes series and inside the beltway

Sweet Enough and One Chance, Fancy by @jro616

Enchanted by You series by @turtle-steverogers

wanna be my baby by Areiton

SugarVerse by @maddiewritesstucky

i've been dreaming of a face like yours by @thiccbuckybarnesfic

I've written a few more fics with Daddy kink myself as well in case you haven't checked those out yet and want to:

Make You Feel Good

pretty little housewife verse series

Something New

Hotel Bar Daddy

Of course there are many fics not on this list (it would be impossible to list everything) but I really hope you'll enjoy these recs <3

#stucky #stevebucky #fic rec #fic recs #stucky fic rec #asks

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haute-lifestyle-com · 20 days

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President Biden has unequivocally condemned the unprecedented attack by Iran on Israel, while simultaneously clarifying to Israel Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu U.S. policy will change unless he begins allowing aid relief to the millions of displaced Gazans

#Janet Walker #Haute-Lifestyle.com #The-Entertainment-Zone.com #Beltway Insider #washington dc #politics #biden administration #Rape culture #Ukraine War #israel #gaza #Middle East #2024 elections

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howdoyousleep3 · 2 years

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Can you just *imagine* the absolute mind fuck Intern!Bucky would experience if he saw his Daddy with his Senator!Daddy? Dominating Senator!Steve being told to remember his place while his Daddy eyes Bucky, remembering what it was like when Steve was his baby.

UGH YES okay I'm so happy you sent this Ask in because it gives me a chance to address something that a lot of people have sent in Asks about, haha.

So, originally Senator Rogers and Intern Bucky were not supposed to become a thing. Do y'all remember this? 😅 I didn't want them to become an item and I just wanted them to have more of a mentorship kind of relationship, one that was always in their lives but came and went once Bucky graduated.

That is the relationship that Intern Steve ends up having with his Daddy. I'm bringing him into this series pretty briefly and it won't be anything that is sexual and it won't be anything that Bucky really is witness to. I might write something in the distant future where they all decide to play around but Steve's Daddy is there for moral support and for a shoulder when Steve needs it most.

I hope that makes sense! If Bucky did see that though...OOF. His Daddy's Daddy? Fuck outta here.

#askK #senator and intern #senator rogers and intern bucky #senator daddy was once an intern baby #inside the beltway

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balloondecor · 10 months

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Corporate Balloon Decor: Elevating Events Inside the Beltway

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Balloons also make great gifts for employees who work hard on special projects or promotions within the company - especially if they involve clients from other companies! You'll find that having balloons on hand makes everyone feel more relaxed during stressful times like these so they don't worry too much about presenting themselves professionally during meetings/presentations etc., but instead focus more energy into enjoying themselves while still making sure everything goes smoothly according to plan."

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For more info on corporate balloon decorations inside the beltway, please visit our site https://www.jayellecee.com

#Professional balloon decorations washington dc #corporate balloon decorations inside the beltway

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mirrorfalls · 1 year

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So, what's your two cents on ol' Gotham Central: Soft Targets as a Joker story?

Granted that it's been - Jesus, a decade if not more? - since I actually read the thing, but it might be the only Joker story with Greg Rucka's byline that I really like! I could be mean and assume Brubaker wrote all the Joker bits-

-or that Michael Lark's art is what's really carrying the thing (I've read that he deliberately went back to Conrad Veidt as a study, in which case he gets Professionalism points through the roof), but at the end of the day, it clicks along at a pace that assures you this was a Joker story everyone wanted to work on, not something editorial made them.

And even after all these years, there's a very hypnotic kind of novelty to a Joker story told from the little-man's POV - something that strips away all the romance and grandeur of A Batman Story (even at his grittiest) and just leans all-in on the folks who're actually getting hurt and can't do much of anything about it. The way even the most seasoned cops react to him, bitter-verging-on-bored resignation somehow coexisting with a streak of "every Joker rampage feels like your first" horror, is maybe the ideal of what I want his reputation to be like - outside the mask-and-cape crowd, and maybe inside it, too.

(Could the nuts-and-bolts have gone more creative than shoot-shoot-shoot-BOMB? Yeah. But for this story's specific post-9/11, post-Beltway atmosphere, I'm hard-pressed to say I'd have it any other way.)

#whotookcheesuschrist #Joker #Sorry I took so long to get to this ^^;#Even more sorry if you wanted me to Rant

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no6secretsanta · 1 year

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For Without Victory

From: @glorifiedscapegoat

To: @Fairysdarkestnight

Hello, there! I am so, so sorry for the extremely long delay on this fic! I hope that you enjoy it! I’ve got a few more parts that come after this bit, but for the time being, I hope you enjoy the fluff that’s peppered throughout! I hope that 2023 has started off well for you! Enjoy!

- - -

“Goddammit,” Safu muttered under her breath as a large caravan swung into the lane, cutting her off.

Nezumi’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t laugh. Safu rarely swore, but traffic brought it out in droves. It was late afternoon, so No.6 was in gridlock. The large highway twisted through the heart of the city itself, and the GPS leading them to Kronos’s Beast Fighting arena had led them onto a beltway that threw them neck-deep into crawling traffic.

Biting back another curse, Safu expertly navigated the rig into the sea of cargo trucks, rapping her fingers over a series of buttons that darkened the windshield against the blinding glare of the late afternoon sunshine. Rigs were common in the Beast Fighting community—necessary, in fact, for lugging around the life-support pods that held said Beasts—but the rest of the world primarily used thirty-wheelers for shipping and consumer transport.

Nezumi disliked cities, mostly due to the constant noise. Horns blared in rage against the inevitable traffic of rush hour, and the massive trucks surrounding their rig vibrated into a low thrumming that echoed through each synapse in Nezumi’s body.

They’d tried to leave district No.4 in the early hours of the morning to avoid this very thing, but an unexpected accident—a massive rig carrying a shipment to a local grocery store had rolled onto its side, effectively blocking all six lanes of traffic and halting their progress for at least three hours. That, in turn, made them get into No.6 at the peak of rush hour traffic, and even Safu’s confident, aggressive driving hadn’t allowed them to gain any exceptional progress.

Nezumi reclined against the passenger seat window, boots propped on the dashboard. The rig’s massive cab gave them an expanded view of the road ahead of them. More than that, it allowed the three of them—Safu, Shion, and Nezumi—to fit comfortably inside for long durations of time. The thirty-wheeler rig Rikiga had purchased for them might have been aging and less impressive than some of the rigs they’d seen in the Beast Fighting community, but it sure beat the cramped confinements of the eighteen-wheeler they’d used at the start of it all.

In the large middle seat, nestled comfortably between Nezumi and Safu, Shion dozed. He’d nodded off before they’d entered the rush hour traffic, which Nezumi figured was for the best. Shion disliked the way Safu got when traffic was tight; it wasn’t road rage, per se, but her quiet rage left even the strongest of men terrified.

After another hour of riding through grueling traffic, Safu angled the wheel to the right and guided the rig out of the sea of metal caravans and onto an on-ramp that led to a large dome situated just off the highway. Nezumi withdrew his feet from the dashboard and stretched his spine. They’d arrived.

Tourists awaiting the start of the evening’s Beast Fights milled about in the parking lot, gawking at the painted trailers that pulled in. The other caravan assigned to their team led the rig off the road and on a dirt path toward the back of the massive arena. A large metal gate slammed shut behind them, cutting off the tourists and their prying eyes. There was no VIP behind-the-scenes bullshit when it came to Beast Fights.

Safu pulled into the large parking space intended for their rig and locked the wheels. The whole truck shut down with a large hiss as she killed the engine; Nezumi climbed out of the cab, Shion quickly waking at the shift in activity and scrambling to unbuckle and follow.

The side of the rig was nothing fancy—dark blue with silver accents, graffiti delicately and deliberately decorating the hub. The reflective metal lining the top and bottom of the double decker trailer displayed Nezumi’s reflection well enough. He’d dragged his long, dark hair into a high ponytail to combat the late summer heat; he’d let Shion pick out his outfit for the day, and Shion, knowing Nezumi’s style well enough after all their time together, had picked out a black long-sleeved tee shirt and khaki cargo pants, the hems fraying. He’d jammed his feet into a ragged pair of combat boots, and his silver eyes were still rimmed with dark circles leftover from the makeup he hadn’t quite managed to fully scrub off from their Beast Fight the night prior.

They’d finished their battle around eleven, and then Safu had permitted them an hour to celebrate their victory at the arena’s shoddy little pub. She’d spent only a hundred credits of their winnings on drinks—a strawberry and coconut Italian soda for Safu, since she was driving, and a 375 ml bottle of plum wine for Nezumi and Shion to split.

Nezumi had managed to swallow a glass and a half before Shion had crawled into his lap, face flushed and grinning from ear to ear. Shion didn’t drink often; as a result, when he did, it hit him hard. It’d been a hassle to drag him to their loft, and even more of a struggle to convince him to go to sleep, but Nezumi would be lying if he said he didn’t find Shion’s drunken happiness a little bit endearing.

Shion came over to stand beside Nezumi, raising a hand to block out the setting sun. His fluff-cloud of silver hair stood up at the ends due to the lingering humidity of summer’s end. Despite the heat, he insisted on wearing a button-down and slacks, though he rolled the hems up into a mock pair of capris.

“How are you feeling?” Shion asked.

His voice was casual and light, but Safu stopped talking to the parking attendant and eavesdropped on the conversation. They’d traveled a long way to reach No.6, but if Nezumi felt off about the area, they would pack up and abandon ship. That was one thing Shion and Safu never questioned. No matter what consequences came of it, no matter how much Rikiga bitched and scolded them, if Nezumi told them he didn’t feel right about a location or an upcoming fight, they’d pack up the truck and continue on their way.

“Good,” Nezumi replied, and he could see Safu’s shoulders drop with relief. Though he knew she’d support his decision if he’d chosen to leave, he also knew that finances would become a concern.

Nezumi only had one area he refused to fight in again. A venue in No.1, where Beasts were hobbies to spoiled rich kids with way too much time on their hands and access to top-notch resources. Elyurias had been shredded in the duel, almost destroyed, but in the end, they’d been victorious. Despite their victory, Nezumi avoided venues in No.1. It’d taken a decent amount of money to patch up Elyurias, and Shion had clung to Nezumi and whimpered the whole night afterward. Nezumi had held him back, pressing kisses to his hairline and promising him that they’d leave No.1 first in the morning and never return. In eight long months of Beast Fights, he’d made good on that promise.

“If you’re sure,” Shion replied, dipping his head forward and nuzzling Nezumi’s shoulder.

Nezumi bumped his nose against the crown of Shion’s head and hid a smile; Shion was always affectionate before the start of a Beast Fight.

Safu bid the parking attendant farewell and wandered over to Nezumi and Shion. She’d dressed in a comfortable purple sweater and a plain black skirt, flaunting a pair of leggings despite the heat. She’d recently cut her hair; it fell in choppy spikes around her chin, framing her delicate features.

“The odds are six to one, currently in our favor,” she announced. “Rikiga’s loaned us five-thousand credits to put down.” She gave Nezumi a mischievous glance. “Think you can handle that?”

“Only five-thousand this time?” Nezumi scoffed. “Old man’s losing faith in me, or what?”

“Playing it safe,” Shion translated, patting Nezumi’s shoulder. Though Shion didn’t handle the financial aspect of Beast Fighting, he understood the risks of tossing around too much money.

It wasn’t Nezumi Rikiga had no faith in; it was his opponents and their insatiable greed that concerned him. After all, they’d learned first-hand how far some folks would go just to be the best.

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll have it finished in five minutes.”

Safu clapped her hands together. “Excellent!” She buzzed with energy, a live-wire so powerful that some outsiders sometimes thought she was the one controlling Elyurias. She certainly had the right attitude for it; Safu could be demure and professional one moment, then fiery and vicious the next. She’d make a fabulous Beast if she ever had the drive. But Nezumi had known her long enough to know that getting in the pits wasn’t high on Safu’s list of desired experiences.

In the background, three of the roadies unloaded Elyurias’s life-support pod out of its containment and nestled it into its far corner at the back of the trailer. Shion didn’t move, but he watched with clenched hands as the opaque cylinder was steadily lowered onto the ground and shoved backward.

Nezumi couldn’t help it; he stifled a laugh. Shion always worried about Elyurias. He’d done nearly all the work on the Beast’s body—Safu had assisted with the circulatory system, but the nervous system, bone structure, muscles, and everything in between was all Shion’s craftsmanship—so he knew how tough Elyurias was. Nezumi bumped his head against Shion to let him know everything was fine.

Despite everything, Nezumi had to admit he was curious about Kronos. Rashi, the proprietor of the Kronos arena, had a reputation for theatrics when it came to Beast Fights. Allegedly, the Kronos arena had once been an abandoned warehouse belonging to a company that specialized in computers. Rashi had purchased the building, seeing the rising money in Beast Fights. Inside the building, the Beast pit sat right in the center, eighty feet wide and fifteen feet deep. It was surrounded on all sides by plastic bleachers, cheap and mismatched in color, clearly purchased in a hurry from different bankrupt schoolhouses and sports arenas.

Outside the rig’s muffling insulation, the city sounds of Kronos hummed around Nezumi and sunk deep into his bones. Cities were part of Beast Fights, unfortunately, since many of the arenas large enough to host the booming crowds were only located in cities. Gone were the days of hand-dug pits and miniature Beasts that could be Piloted like remote-controlled cars.

Nezumi had been in it since the beginning, back when building Beasts was strictly hobby and not blood-sport. He didn’t remember how or when it had changed. One day, the little Beast their close-knit trio had patched together—still called Elyurias, just much tinier and much less lethal—had metamorphosed into the war machine they’d become infamous for Piloting.

Shion’s hand covered Nezumi’s, slotting their fingers together. He gave Nezumi’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and Nezumi’s lips twitched into a soft smile. After this fight, they’d planned a short vacation, of sorts. Just the two of them—Shion and Nezumi—spending a few days together in Lost Town, where Shion and Safu had grown up. Safu had agreed to drop them off at Karan’s bakery before lugging the rig three towns over to West Block, where Rikiga and Inukashi would assist in the alterations to Elyurias’s body before their next round of Beast Fights.

Traveling on the road with their crew and Safu, Nezumi had learned all too quickly, made it difficult to have any real alone time with Shion. Sometimes they got lucky and Safu would park the rig overnight after a particularly successful Fight, taking advantage of a rare bar. She didn’t drink often, either, but when she did, Nezumi knew she’d place bets with the rest of the crew. Despite her small stature, Safu could hold her liquor with the best of them, and she’d been roped into more than a few drinking contests with over-zealous fans who assumed they could out-drink her.

When those rare moments presented themselves, Nezumi would bring Shion back to their loft in the rig and tuck into the shadows, smothering Shion’s delighted laughter with deep kisses. Nezumi wasn’t one to wear his emotions of his sleeve, but he couldn’t deny that he was eager for tonight’s fight to end. Nezumi pressed a quick kiss to Shion’s temple. The sooner Nezumi got a moment alone with him, the better.

Two hours before the fight, Rashi stepped into the storage room. Nezumi’s hackles immediately went up; something about him, a spoiled rich boy flaunting his father’s wealth, set his nerves on edge. Rashi didn’t look like he belonged in the world of Beast Fights. He was tall and thin, with cut-close blond hair and a pair of crisp spectacles over a pair of steely green eyes. He wore a pressed black suit with white pinstripes and expensive black wingtips; Nezumi was tempted to spit on them just to see what Rashi would do.

Safu closed the door behind him, cutting off the distant shouting and excitement from the parking lot of the arena. Rashi’s eyes clicked across their faces—Safu’s, Shion’s, then to Nezumi. Cool bemusement danced across his sharp features, and an envelope appeared from one of his sleeves.

“Your appearance fee,” Rashi said. His voice had a strange lilt to it, like he thought it made him sound smarter than he probably was.

He went to hand it to Nezumi, but Safu swooped in and plucked it from him. It disappeared into the pocket of her bright purple sweater. Safu handled the team’s money and expense reports.

Rashi’s delicate blond eyebrow twitched. “You’re not going to count it?”

“Your reputation’s suitable enough,” Safu replied. “I have no reason to assume you’d short us.” She lifted an eyebrow, too. “Unless you’re implying we should have a reason to assume that.”

“No, of course not. And your reputation is certainly suitable enough, as well.”

Nezumi listened to him talk and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like Rashi being here—it put a ripple in their pregame routine. Some teams enjoyed partying with groupies before the Fights. Others dipped into the bars and spent their appearance fees, certain that they’d win it back by Fight’s end. Nezumi, however—Nezumi enjoyed the peace and quiet his team generated. Sometimes he’d unwind by flipping through a book, or he’d listen to Shion and Safu fuss over Elyurias.

“I wondered if I could take a look at Elyurias,” Rashi said, and the name of his Beast on the man’s tongue made Nezumi’s skin crawl. “I’ve heard so many rumors, after all.”

Safu and Shion’s eyes flashed over to Nezumi. Nezumi straightened his spine and gave an indifferent shrug—the sooner he showed Rashi what he wanted, the sooner he’d leave.

“Sure,” he muttered.

He gestured to Shion, a silent reassurance. Shion bustled them over to the gigantic life-support pod that held Elyurias inside. Shion traced his fingers lovingly over the glass, entering the code that shifted the opacity and gave a vivid glimpse into the tank’s contents. Nezumi’s heart skipped, just a little, at the look of endearment that Shion gave the Beast within. He tried not to smile; they were in mixed company, after all.

Nezumi didn’t need to look at Elyurias; he was well acquainted with the Beast’s physical attributes. Elyurias stood at a monstrous three meters tall, primarily bipedal and capable of shifting to four powerful legs. The front legs possessed a set of long claws, each about the length of Nezumi’s index finger. The Beast’s body was covered in black fur, sleek and lupine, and as Rashi continued to look up, Nezumi knew he was eyeing the bony, armored tentacles with sharp blades stretching from the base of Elyurias’s skeletal cranium. There were three of them, segmented like flexible spines and curling in the life-support pod.

The Beast’s head, however, was a thing of art. Shion had spent weeks gathering the pieces, sculpting and shaving down the bones he’d purchased into the perfect shape. The whole body appeared lupine and powerful, but the head possessed a cervidean shape, two large antlers protruding from the top of the skull, bones exposed and horrifying. The eyes were two empty sockets, but Nezumi knew that, when he stepped into the ring, two silver lights would reflect inside them.

Rashi reached out and brushed his fingers against the life-support pod. “Beautiful,” he commented, almost enraptured by the Beast’s appearance.

Shion bristled as Rashi touched the pod, but whatever he wanted to say disappeared when Nezumi gave him a quick glance. He understood Shion’s protective nature when it came to Elyurias—appreciated it, adored it, even—but he also understood that Shion had a hair trigger when it came to anger. He didn’t feel like prying Shion off another person, especially not the proprietor of the arena they’d be dueling in.

And then Rashi looked at Nezumi and said, “You’re going to take a dive tonight.”

A long silence fell around the room.

“What?” Safu asked, her voice icy and sinister. Her build to anger was slower than Shion’s, but no less horrifying. Nezumi could see the shiver that trickled up Rashi’s voice at her tone, but he quickly quelled it. He had an appearance to keep, after all, and bowing to rabble like Beast Fighters was clearly beneath him.

“A dive,” Rashi repeated, shrugging a shoulder. The action looked strange on him. “You’ll be compensated, of course. Three times the winning purse. Thirty-thousand credits.”

Nezumi clicked his tongue. Rashi wasn’t the first person to ask them to throw a fight, but usually there was some form of pomp with it. Typically, fight coordinators piled on the praise, fawning over Nezumi’s victories and regaling him with stories of how his fame had supposedly inspired new Beast fighters to join in the ring, and then they dove into trying to convince him to throw a fight. For Rashi to simply dive right into it—it was refreshing, in a way, if not slightly amusing.

“I think you might be a bit confused, sir,” Safu said, venom dripping off each word. “We’re not a bunch of children you can lead astray with the promise of a big break. We’re professionals. We take what we do seriously.”

“And so do I,” Rashi replied, and Nezumi had to give him at least a bit of credit; he didn’t recoil immediately at the rage dancing across Safu’s face. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture. To keep participating in Beast Fights, you need funds. These sideshow battles have grown exponentially; I wouldn’t be surprised if, in a few years, the whole thing became just another sports program. Official leagues and committees and such. That Beast of yours is certainly admirable”—he gestured to Elyurias, who Shion had stepped protectively in front of, eyes narrowed and flashing scarlet—“but every Beast requires maintenance. How much has your Beast cost you these past few months?”

Nezumi’s jaw tightened.

“With the right level of support,” Rashi continued, “your team could thrive until you’re ready to retire. Even a Beast of Elyurias’s caliber requires a complete system overhaul every few months. This is an expensive business, after all—a successful business, sure, but not if you don’t have the funds.”

“Forgive me, sir, but we’re not that naive.” Safu crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at Rashi without an ounce of fear. “We do research the locations we’re inviting to Fight in. And we’re very thorough. If you know where to look, it’s not difficult to find out that you run the books in Kronos, especially around your arena. Every spectator out there that’s not a die-hard fan of our opponents’ team has laid down an ungodly amount of credits on Elyurias. You, more than likely, ran a few numbers of your own and figured we’d take your offer and purposely lose tonight’s fight. We’d accept your thirty-thousand credits, and you’d get to walk away the true victor.”

“Fifty-thousand credits, then,” Rashi said, narrowing his eyes. “I’d accept the offer, if I were you. You’ve been on quite the impressive winning streak, it’s true. But how much longer can you keep it up?” He turned away from Safu and stared at Nezumi. “You’re the team’s primary Beast—the only Beast, so I’ve been told. Your skill with your creature is quite renowned, but how much confidence do you have in your own abilities? You’re tough, kid—but you’re not invincible.”

“No, I’m not invincible,” Nezumi replied. “But what I do have is an edge the other Beasts lack.”

His gaze flickered to Shion for only a brief moment; it wasn’t brief enough, however, to escape Rashi’s notice. His lips quirked downward in disgust, and whatever minor respect Nezumi might have been able to salvage for the man fluttered out the window. He clenched his jaw, a lump of irritation forming in his throat.

Inside the life-support tank, Elyurias’s claws twitched. The movement was subtle, faint enough that it escaped Rashi’s notice, but Shion’s scarlet eyes flashed.

“Yes, I’ve heard rumors of your… talents.”

Not surprising. Nezumi’s talents with Elyurias had been the topic of great speculation.

It wasn’t impossible that a single Beast had won every fight it’d ever been in, but it was highly unlikely, and the fact that Nezumi’s Beast had gone up against thirty different Beasts and walked away victorious each time was nothing short of miraculous.

“I don’t understand it, though,” Rashi said. “Beast Fights are a bloody affair, but to command such a monster and come out victorious each time…” He cocked his head to the side, sizing Nezumi up. “Are you certain you’re entirely human?”

Shion’s hands tightened into fists; Nezumi caught the movement in his periphery.

He gave Shion a quick, reassuring glance. The tension remained in Shion’s expression, but his shoulders loosened, just a bit. His lips were tight and pain, and Nezumi could see the edge of his teeth as his bit them to keep whatever insults he wanted to hurl at Rashi caged inside.

“Have you ever piloted a Beast, sir?” Safu asked.

Rashi’s sharp green eyes glinted in the dingy trailer light. “I haven’t had the, ah… pleasure, no.”

That didn’t surprise Nezumi in the slightest. Even from first glance, Rashi didn’t strike him as the type to link his mind to a bioware processor and get down and dirty with other Beasts in the ring. He seemed more the type to pay others to do it for him, hedging bets and fixing fights to ensure he walked away with a tasty profit. The thought of it turned Nezumi’s stomach. Wealthy scum like Rashi tainted the sport.

“Then I wouldn’t expect you to understand it,” Safu said, and then, as an after-thought, added, “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Rashi replied coolly, though his eyes flashed in a way that let Nezumi know it had certainly been taken.

“There’s some level of blood lust to it,” Nezumi said, and Safu cast him a surprised look. “You can’t control a Beast without wanting to create a little carnage. But more than that, it’s that desire to destroy your opponent. Every Beast Fighter out there—everyone who joins a team, bets their credits, connects themselves to a bioware processor and climbs into the pit—understands that voracity.”

“And I suppose that you’re the most vicious of them all, then?” Rashi leveled Nezumi with a cold look. “Your desire to win is greater than every other Beast out there?”

“Yes,” Nezumi replied, and for the first time since Rashi showed his ugly face, he let the irritation swelling inside him poison his words.

Shion’s shoulders tightened, and Nezumi knew his mind had also wandered back to that night almost a year ago.

Nezumi’s body still ached with it, his mind dredging up flashes of the icy rain pelting against his skin, the sluggish feeling of his blood oozing out onto the pavement. His lungs boiled with each ragged breath, and the echo of Shion’s horrified voice slicing through the storm still haunted his nightmares.

But that night had left Nezumi with something irreplaceable—an edge that allowed him to strike down even the strongest of Beasts. No matter how many Beasts he squared off against, no matter how many wounds Elyurias sustained or how close a fight got, Nezumi would always win.

Rashi looked around the group—surveyed the cold expressions on Shion and Safu’s faces, the silent rage on Nezumi’s—and gave a theatrical sigh. “Very well. Have it your way.” He turned on his heel, marching through the door with the practiced ease of someone who was well-accustomed to storming out of rooms in a huff.

“Fucking prick,” Safu spat, once Rashi was out of earshot.

Shion’s arms wrapped around Nezumi and pulled him close. Nezumi folded Shion against him and rubbed a hand down his back. Shion’s body vibrated with anger, and Nezumi knew if he let Shion go, he’d sprint out of the rig and tackle Rashi to the ground. Not a good look for their crew, though Nezumi couldn’t deny he found it amusing how keyed up and protective Shion could get about him.

“Ignore him,” Nezumi murmured against Shion’s hairline. Rashi didn’t matter. He was just another fight coordinator who’d underestimated them. Nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.

Safu gave Nezumi a brief look; Nezumi nodded to her, and with a slight nod in return, Safu marched over to the few members of their crew to begin preparations for the fight.

“I don’t like how he looked at you,” Shion ground out, curling his fingers in Nezumi’s shirt.

Nezumi tightened his grip on Shion. “Whatever. He doesn’t know a damn thing.”

Shion nodded; he pressed a soft kiss to Nezumi’s collar bone, peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. Even that faint touch had Nezumi’s blood singing.

One fight. All he had to do was win this one fight, and then he and Shion would get some much-needed alone time. That in itself was more than enough to motivate Nezumi, even without the rest.

Nezumi drew back, peering down into Shion’s face. His scarlet eyes, glowing in the dim light of the storage room in their rig, reached into the deepest parts of his soul. It’d been hard to let his walls down around anyone, and Shion was no exception—not at first. But once Nezumi had allowed even the slightest crack in his defenses when it came to Shion, it was almost horrifying how easy it’d been to let Shion in.

“Come on,” Nezumi said. “We’ve got a fight to win.”

The aggravation in Shion’s face gave way to admiration and love; Shion’s lips curled into a grin, and Nezumi knew, more instinct than speculation, that there was no way he’d lose the fight tonight. As long as Shion was right here, there wasn’t anything in the world Nezumi couldn’t conquer.

The End

#submission #no6 #no.6 #no. 6 #no 6 #no6secretsanta2022 #nezushi #nezumi #shion #glorifiedscapegoat #fairysdarkestnight

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