#Political AU

[preet-01]

Maxiel Political AU

Word Count: 1243

Summary: Max Verstappen only had one goal - to be President. It's all he's wanted since he was just seven years old and all that he's worked towards. But bachelors don't get elected as Presidents, for the most part. Enter Daniel Ricciardo. Daniel's the ideal candidate for the country's most prominent and stressful unpaid job: the President's loving partner, a pretty bauble for the country to fall in love with and look towards. In secret meetings, contracts are signed and a marriage is arranged. Max and Daniel must convince the American people that they are a loving couple and perfect for the White House

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Chapter Two

In the political campaign business, there are certain names that everyone knows regardless of party lines or election levels. Campaign managers, press secretaries, and speechwriters became household names for politicians and politician hopefuls over the years. 

One such name is Sebastian Vettel. 

The German-American from Philly had entered the political scene fresh out of college and had carved out a space for himself. 

From local campaigns to presidential campaigns, he had worked on everything and anything. But his most notable career achievement was approximately four years ago when he was on the Hamilton presidential campaign as the press secretary. 

Now, years later and with many successful campaigns under his belt, Sebastian was looking towards another presidential campaign to put his name on. 

Max Verstappen, by all accounts that Sebastian had heard, was the next big thing after Lewis Hamilton came onto the scene. And by rumors that he’d heard from his contacts, Max Verstappen would be running for President in 2028. 

“You’re barely finished with your first term as a Senator,” Sebastian states when he finally has a meeting with Max Verstappen. The young senator is ambitious, but he does have the results to back it. Though Sebastian would not tell him that just yet, perhaps after they’ve won the presidency. 

“The election is still four years away. Plenty of time for any inexperience to become experience,” Max states. He has no doubts in his abilities. The next few years will be enough for him to fix any shortcomings and build an electable resume for himself. 

“Indeed, I do not doubt that. Your record so far speaks for itself,” Sebastian says, though he seems to be holding back on something. 

“But?” Max inquires. 

“But there are things outside of your work record that will influence your presidential campaign,” Sebastian replies. 

They leave it at that, despite Max wanting to know more about it. Sebastian says it is a matter for a later time, and that he needs to work out some things in the background before it becomes a pressing issue. 

While Max would like to know more about Sebastian’s pressing concerns, he does have committee meetings to go to, and- his train of thought is broken by a text he gets from one of his colleagues. 

S.4398 is going to the courts for constitutional violations 

Plaintiffs hired Ricciardo from Thompson and Lancaster. Should be an easy win 

Max is confused because is he supposed to know who Ricciardo is? There were too many lawyers in the district to know everyone.  

____

“Are you wearing a signet ring?” Oscar questions. When they said that he could get an intern, Daniel assumed that he would get a helpful intern eager to learn and do whatever Daniel needed. He had been like that, taking whatever scraps he could get. Instead, he received Oscar. And while Oscar was very polite at first glance, in Daniel’s opinion the twenty-three-year-old was a menace to society – well mainly to Daniel, but he was society. “Oh god, you’re one of those lawyers,” he groans. 

“It’s a family ring and my grandfather is in town,” Daniel sighs. He hadn’t worn the family signet ring consistently since they’d found out he was a carrier, but his grandfather was in town and he couldn’t get away with it. “Have you filed the McKinley documents?” he asks, changing the conversation from his family to the newest case that Daniel had been chosen as the head lawyer. His record of winning had made it an easy decision for the bosses and plaintiffs.

“Filed them this morning,” Oscar replies, “Vergne was sniffing around about the case when I was filing.” 

“Of course he was. Boss man’s not been very subtle that this case could potentially make me partner,” Daniel sighs. His once close friendship with Jev had suffered with both of them at the same firm and Daniel’s promotion potential being greater than his. He was sad about it, of course, law school would have been hell if it wasn’t for Jev’s friendship. But Daniel wanted to become partner and he’d do whatever was needed to achieve that. 

“We’re meeting with McKinley tomorrow morning, I want you there,” Daniel tells Oscar. Oscar had been his intern for months now, but he hadn’t sat in any of the meetings so far. 

“What?” And for probably the first time, Daniel is able to surprise Oscar. 

“I think you’re ready and it is the next step,” Daniel replies. 

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. Daniel can avoid seeing his grandfather until it’s time to leave the office. 

His grandfather is waiting for him in front of the building with a town car. “Daniel,” he greets with a nod and motions to the town car. Daniel sighs as he enters the car. All he wanted was to go home and just be a blob in his bed as he contemplated some innocuous decision that he’d made. But when Joseph Ricciardo shows up at your job with a town car, you get in the town car. 

“How was your trip, grandfather?” Daniel inquires. 

“It was adequate,” the older man replies. “I spoke with your friend, the campaign manager,” he says. 

“Sebastian? Why?” Daniel questions. As far as Daniel knows, there was no reason for his grandfather to speak with Sebastian. Daniel knows that his grandfather had gotten acquainted with Seb when Seb worked on the Hamilton campaign the first time around and he endorsed Lewis Hamilton. But since then, as far as Daniel knew, Sebastian hadn’t worked on a campaign that would require an endorsement from his grandfather. 

“He is taking on a new presidential campaign for 28,” Joseph says. “A Senator from New York,” he adds. Daniel knows one of the Senators from New York – John Robbins – they’d gotten coffee a handful of times over the years. He doesn’t think John is a presidential hopeful and he isn’t the type of candidate that Seb likes to work with. No Seb likes younger politicians, not those over the retirement age. 

“Robbins?” 

“No, the other one. Verstappen,” Joseph answers. 

“Verstappen?” Daniel tries to think back to what he knows of the young Senator from New York. Relatively new to the Senate, younger than most of his colleagues, the same party as Lewis, unmarried, and not as established as other 2028 presidential hopefuls. “He’d never win. Not yet anyway,” Daniel says. The voters didn't like unmarried newcomers they barely knew. Politics was a game of strategy and name recognition.

“Hhm, at his present state, he would not win, but should his situation change and he gets more established support, then he does have a strong chance,” Joseph says, handing him a file. “Sebastian compiled a file on him. He will be contacting you soon to discuss a potential, mutually beneficial agreement for both parties involved,” he says. 

Daniel knows what a mutually beneficial agreement means. This wouldn’t be the first time that Daniel had gotten such a file from his grandfather. His cousin’s aspirations were more in line with the videogame industry than politics, so a presidency was far-fetched. Therefore, the attention had returned to getting Daniel hitched to some Senator or Governor who could take the Ricciardo name to the highest office in the country. 

Usually, he ignored them and found one reason or another to deny them. But this was someone that Seb would be working with and that intrigued him. 

He’d meet this Senator Verstappen.

________

I feel iffy about this chapter, but it's a necessary step to get to the first meeting in the next chapter

Updates will be every other week

#political au #maxiel #the beauty of their dreams

[andydrysdalerogers]

Can I Count on Forever? ~ Chris Evans

Chris Evans x Senator Reader

Word Count ~ 4.2K

Songs: The Man by Taylor Swift; Paper Rings by Taylor Swift; Lover by Taylor Swift 

Its been three years since you met Chris and today, you take one of the biggest steps of your life.

Part Three of the "Can I?" mini series - Part One // Part Two // Main Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, SMUT (p in v, oral – female receiving, slight dominance kink), mentions of cheating, accusations of cheating, political nonsense. 

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Just a quick message. While I have tried to keep this politically neutral, I will say that I have no idea what any real-world person’s views are and will not assume. Also, I am not an expert in politics and will not claim to be.  In the US, we have an election in November. Please, inform yourself on all of your local, state and federal races and issues and remember to register and vote.  You can’t complain if you don’t vote! 

Your POV 

Clack.  

Clack.  

Clack.  

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked to your destiny. It was the end of a fairy tale or the start of one, and you weren’t sure if you could get through the double doors. You thought back on your life, closed your eyes and prayed.  

It had been a year since Chris proposed and it was here, your wedding day.  As you woke on that bright May morning, you reached for your fiancé and found the bed empty.  But a smile crossed your face.  He wasn’t in the hotel with you.  He was at home with Dodger and his groomsmen while you were at the hotel with your bridal party.  As you stretched, there was a knock at the door.  “Room service!” 

Curiously, you opened the door, and the bellman pushed a cart in. “Mr. Evans asked us to deliver breakfast and champagne to you to start your special day right.  Congratulations ma’am.”  He stepped back out and you squealed.  Opening the cover, Chris had sent your favorite breakfast, along with coffee and champagne. Savoring the meal, you sent a text to Chris.  

YN: Thank you, love, for my breakfast!  My fiancé: You’re welcome.  Only six more hours before I see you again and you make an honest man outta me.  

You hugged the phone to your chest when your maid of honor knocked yelling for you to open.  

A few hours later, you were waiting in your bridal suite, your father comes in and sees you for the first time.  “Oh, my baby, you look beautiful,” tears forming in his eyes  

“Thank you, daddy,” your own tears welling up.  

“No, don’t cry.”  He handed you a tissue.  “Chris is a lucky man. I am so happy you found each other.”  

The wedding planner knocked.  “We’re ready for you.”  

As you stood at the double doors, you thought back to how you got here. How you fought for each other, against the world. The doors opened and all you could see was Chris.  

Chris POV 

I stood at the altar, waiting for those doors to open again and let my beautiful girl come to me. The past three years had been a whirlwind, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  All the bridesmaids make it down the aisle and little Stella finishes with her flowers and the music changes.  Everyone stands and the doors open. My jaw falls open. I can’t see anything else but her. She’s an angel, all in white, gliding on her dad’s arm. The tears are building up in my eyes at how beautiful she looked, my little senator.  

Once she reached me, I could feel a tear rolling down and she reached up and wiped it away.  “Please stop crying,” she whispered.  “You’re gonna set me off.”  

I could see her lip tremble a little bit.  I kissed her hand, "I love you," I whispered.  

We kept it traditional, reciting words that have been said by couples like us thousands of times over.  When I slip that ring on her finger, it was like a part of me that was missing got put back and I’m overwhelmed.  

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.  Chris, you may kiss your bride.” 

“Finally,” I breathed as I took her face in my hands and kissed those lips that had haunted my dreams since the first day I met her. It was perfect and when I pulled away, her lips were just a touch redder and more swollen, her eyes danced.  

“I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Evans!” 

The whole church cheered, and I took my wife’s hand in mine and walked out. After three years and one horrible misunderstanding, I finally have my girl on my arm as my wife.  

The reception is amazing.  YN and the wedding planner did a great job. It's intimate and romantic but not over the top.  Her father wanted to take out a house loan to pay for whatever YN wanted but she refused. “I don’t need you to be in debt Daddy.  Give me a reasonable budget and I’ll make it work.” That is my girl, always modest. But this is a once in a lifetime, if I have any say in it and I want it to be her dream. I talked to her dad on the side.  

“Mr. YLN, I just want YNN to have everything she wants, so get your budget together and I’ll double it. I want this to be a gift to her but never find out, because her smile will be my thanks.”  

It worked like a charm because I can see the tears in her eyes as she looks at the room and see her vision come to life. “Oh my...” she whispers. I take it all in, the crystal vases holding the red roses, tea lights on all the tables. The walls have a soft light to them, and the dance floor is decorated with lanterns and rose petals.  “It's perfect.”  

“It's you, my beautiful wife.” 

It's hours before I can take her home, well, to our honeymoon suite.  She’s exhausted, riding up in the elevator. I scoop her up in my arms, her heels already dangling in my hand. “You going to sleep, baby?” 

“Hmm, no, not yet. Just tired.” She smiles at me. “It was the perfect day.”  

“Oh yeah? Something important happened?” I tease as we get to our honeymoon suite.  

“Not really,” she shrugged. “Just tied myself to the perfect man.”  

“Sounds fun.” I had one more surprise for her. I opened the door and carried her in. The room was decorated in candles and roses, a bottle of champagne next to her favorite snack.  I had always dreamt of that night we had by the fire after I had proposed.  It was perfect and I wanted to recreate it for her.  Except this time, the hotel laid out blankets and pillows in a beautiful bed.  

“Chris,” she whispered, and I could tell she loved it. 

I set her on her feet and pressed my front to her back. I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I was an idiot the first time I made love to you in front of a fire.”  I found the zipper on her dress and slowly began to bring it down. “I was apologizing for being the biggest jerk in the world after you protected me. I wasn’t appreciating the setting or taking my time with you.  But this time,” the zipper was down and i kissed her shoulders, “this time I want to worship you because you made me the happiest man in the world.”  I pushed the bejeweled straps of her gown down and she gasped at the sudden cool air.  

“Oh fuck,” I murmured as I took in the lacy white corset, teeny tiny white panties and stockings. She looked like a goddam angel that was going to send me straight to heaven.  I lifted her out of the gown and spun her to look at me. “This is like a present for me,” as I run a finger over the top of the corset.  

“Unwrap me Chris,” she said in a low sultry voice.  

And I crumble.  

Because there is no way I would say no to this gorgeous creature right now.  

I kiss her softly and pull away, kissing her forehead before turning her around again. I undo the ribbon holding the corset closed and let it fall away.  I kneel down and roll down the stocking and tip her foot so she can lift, and I can remove one stocking, repeating on the other.  I run my hands up her legs, feeling her shiver under my touch, listening to her breath hitch. I kiss right under each cheek, giving a nibble on one.  

“Chris,” she moans, “stop teasing.”  

“Is that an order Senator?” I smile against her skin. “Or is it a request?  Because,” I spin her again, so she is facing me while I’m still on my knees, “if it's an order, then we have a problem.”  

“What problem?” 

“I remember you promised me that I would only take orders from you in public.”  I kissed around her belly button. She moans and her head tilts back. “But I would give the orders in our bedroom.”  

“We’re not in our bedroom,” she argues.  “We’re... oh.... oh fuck,” she whimpers as I kiss over the scrape of lace she calls panties and press against her mound.  

“Want to try that again, Mrs. Evans?” I pull the lace down just enough so I can get my nose close to her center and inhale that scent that is only her.  

“I...” she studders and I chuckle. I yank the lace away from her body, ripping them off.  

“Chris!” 

“No,” I say in a husky voice.  “No orders from you, Mrs. Evans.  You want something, you beg for it.  because until we get back from our honeymoon, you are not in charge.  Who is in charge?” 

“Fuck,” she cries as I let my finger circle her clit.  “You’re...hmm... you’re in charge.”  

“Good girl.” I stood up and lifted her into my arms, wrapping her legs around me. “Such a good girl for me.” I walked us over to the fireplace bed and laid her down.  I took a long look at my prize, my angel, my wife. “God, I’m a lucky bastard.”  

I didn’t realize I said that out loud until she giggled. Then she grabbed the end of my undone bow tie and yanked me on top of her. She kissed me hard and then pulled away. “Please Chris, let me see my husband naked.”  

“Fuck me.” I pulled the tie off, straddled her and grabbed her wrists. I tied them together and lifted her arms above the head. “Naughty girl,” I said. “No touching now. Bad girls don’t get to touch.” She wiggled under me, trying to get relief from me.  

“I’m sorry, baby, please, I’m sorry. Let me touch you.”  

“No.” I stood up and started to strip. I unbutton my shirt slowly, working the cufflinks she had given me as a wedding present off carefully. She licked her bottom lip and I smirked. I was shirtless, which, if she had her way, she would keep me like this every day. I moved quickly with my belt and the button of my slacks.  She whimpered and I bit my bottom lip. “You should have stayed being my good girl, little senator.” 

“Chris, you’re being mean,” she whined.  

“Am I?” I let my pants hit the floor before I crawled up her body.  I kiss her inner thighs, sucking little bruises as I go. “I’m sorry sweetheart.” I kiss right above her clit, and she bucks at the sensation. I pin her hips and licked from the bottom to the top of her pussy. God, I love the way she tastes, the way she coats my tongue in her arousal. Fuck, do I love being in between her legs. “So good,” I tell her, “taste like heaven.”  I work my tongue in her, fucking her while my thumb presses down on her clit. “Fuck baby, you’re even tight for my tongue.”  

“Chris,” she mewled.  She was close, so fucking close.  

“Come for me little senator. That’s an order.”  I shoved two fingers into her cunt and sucked on her clit at the same time.  she shattered, crying out as her orgasm fluttered through her body. I made it last for as long as I could. I tease her relentlessly and get her right back on the edge. Then i pull away and she cries in frustration because I know her orgasm is fading.  I climb up her body, tasting every inch of skin I can until I can wrap her legs around my waist. “Hang on, baby.”  

She grips the straps around her wrists and then I force my way home.  She screams as I bury myself in her to the hilt.  But I’m not cruel.  I wait until she is comfortable and then rock into her, leting her feel every inch, every ridge, every vein of my cock along her ways. Fuck, she feels so good. I’ve only fucked her bare a couple of times and the feeling of her heat, how wet, how needy she is, I’m going to fucking die a happy man.  

“Harder Chris, fuck, please harder.” I grab her legs and push them over my shoulder so I can fuck her into the mattress.  She feels like fucking heaven and tighter in this position. I can’t believe I get to do this with my wife. She’s moaning and crying out from all the stimulation.  I don’t want to ever stop.  

Your POV 

Chris is fucking you to within an inch of your life.  You are in heaven, lost in the heavenly glow of sex and you need him.  “Chris, please,” you pleaded.  You know what he wants because you want it too.  He pulls out quick, making you cry before he flips you to your front and gets your ass in the air.  

“This pussy is magically,” he says, looking it over before he fills you again.  You have always loved this angle. You can feel everything and when he moves, you can feel his balls hitting your clit.  Its perfect.  

“C-chris, I can’t hold on,” you whine. “Husband please!” 

“Oh shit,” he moans, “that’s fucking hot.” He thrusts faster. “Say it again. Say! It!” 

You’re on the cusp of euphoria. “Chris, Husband please!” He ruts into you, reaching down to circle and stroke your clit and you break. You scream your release, gripping his cock, squeezing him until he released into you, coating you in his cum.  

“Fuck!” He pumps a few more times until he stops, lowering you gently to the bed, not ready to separate. You lay there on your sides, legs tangles to keep you connected, catching your breaths when you start to giggle.  “And what is so funny, my wife?” 

You take a breath to speak.  “You have a kink, baby. You like it when I called you husband.” You turn to look back at him. 

He smiles before leaning over and kissing you again. “I also like calling you Wife and you like it too. You clenched involuntarily and Chris hisses. He caressed your thigh. “Told you.”  

After Chris cleans you up and you both crawl into bed, you find myself laying on top of his chest. “I wish we could stay this way forever.” You place a kiss on his chest.  

“I wish we could too, little Senator, but then how will you rule the world?” 

Its a valid question. One you are excited to figure out.  

You’ve been married for two months and now you are at the National Convention. Getting married during an election season was crazy but your team and Chris’s said it would give you the best boost.  You were set to become the youngest and second woman nominated for the office of President.   

As you stood in the wings of TD Gardens in Boston, Chris watched as you paced back and forth, looking over your note cards for your acceptance speech. “Sweetheart, don’t be nervous.”  

“That’s easy for you, Chris, you’re an actor.  You perform for millions.”  

He chuckled and shook his head. “I act in front of a camera for twenty people and then they watch after its edited. YN,” he stopped you and wrapped you in his arms. “You are a brilliant speaker. The people have nominated you, they believe in you.  I believe in you.” He tilted your head up so you would look at him.  “Go out there and be a rock star, Little Senator.”  

The convention went off without a hitch and it was the final three months of the campaign. It was grueling, city after city, town hall after town hall.  Chris could only be on the road with you for a few days at a time as ASP launched into the primer source for facts in the election.  He had to host panels and discussions. Video chats in between calls and meet and greets was not how you imagined your first few months of marriage but it could all be worth it. 

Chris POV 

I was late for our video date. “Fuck.” I was jogging to my office in the ASP offices so I could call YN, when I was stopped by Megan. “What’s up?” 

“Chris, there is an article floating around that claims the Senator had an affair right before the wedding.”  

My heart stopped.  

“What?” 

“The Enquirer has photos of her entering a hotel room that did not belong to the campaign. The room was rented out by someone named M. Capuano.” 

We made it to my office. I closed the door. “What does my wife’s team said?” 

Megan grimaced. “That’s the thing. They said they aren’t worried about it. Rachel said that she spoke to the Senator and if questioned, they are going with no comment.”  

I smiled. “That’s my girl. We’re saying the same thing, Megan. Thanks.” I turned to pick up my phone.  

Megan scoffed.  “There is no way we can go with no comment, Chris. They will tear her apart. You have to talk to her about.  She’s just not bringing herself down but you as well.”  

“I’ll talk to her. Give me five minutes.” Megan rolled her eyes and left my office as I called my wife. “Hello, my little Senator.”  

“Hi handsome!” She was flushed from running for her phone. She was heartbreakingly beuatfiul, her cream colored blouse clung to her curves that I love and gave just the hint of clevage. “How were your discussions?”   

“Really good, looks like the live numbers will be out highest yet.” I smirk. “Execpt for my last meeting.”  

She frowned. “With who?” 

“Megan. She wanted to bring attention to the fact that there is an article going aroung saying my wife is having an affair.”  

YN gasped. “Chris, you know I would never...” 

“I was nervous for just a second and then she told me the name the room was reserved under and it took everything in me not to laugh.” 

She looked confused. “I don’t understand.” 

“Sweetheart, remember when you had a swing in Virginia and I was able to see you and we kept it on the low.”  

“Yes,” she dragged out.  

“Well I couldn’t reserve the room under either of our names so my uncle helped me and reserve the room for me. M. Capuano. Uncle Mike.”  

I watched as the realization clicked. “Oh my gosh, they think I am having an affair with M. Capuano but really I’m having an affair with my husband.”  

I smirk as she laughs. “I don’t know what you are laughing at Senator. You’re having an affair.”  

“I sure am. The man really is hard to resist. Dark gripable hair, a beard that feels so good on my skin. Bluest eyes I ever seen. He’s built and has those arms that can hold you to him all night long.”  

“Fuck sweetheart, you can’t say stuff like when when I don’t have time right now.” I looked at my calendar on my computer. “I can be with you tomorrow morning and stay through the weekend.”  

“I’m looking forward to it Mr. Affair.”  

“I’m going to rock your world Mrs. Affair.  I love you.”  

“I love you more.”  

YN POV 

You’re nervous.  

This day is always nerve-racking.  

This isn’t your first one either.  

And hopefully it isn’t your last.  

Its election day. 

While you hadn’t given up your senate seat yet, it was something you were willing to do if the right opportunity presented itself. Say, being the President of the United States.  

But first, you needed to be elected there. You were back in California, awaiting for the results. Votes were being tally, the electoral college was making its decision and all you could do was wait.  

Which is not the easiest thing to do.  

Chris had been on the phone with his ASP team, checking results in major battleground states, counts on issues that were concerning to younger Americans. Every time he looked up to you, he would you a smile and mouth “i love you” to try and calm your nerves. Three years of this and he knew how to calm your nerves.  

The campaign had been hard, a woman running against an older, backward thinking man. The scandal of the car photos came back into play but your opponents own philandering with a woman not his wife, nullified that right away.  You had no secrets, other than your relationship with Chris.  You were caareful to only show what you wanted to the public to know.  Chris was or rather still is a famous movie star. He may have slowed down his films but he was never not working. ASP was his pride and joy, besides you, and it relected on how much the platform grew.  

It was nearing 8pm in California and the states were starting to be called. Every political forecaster predicted this race to be the tightest its ever seen. No one expected you to receive the nomination.  No one expected to make it this far. No one believe. Except Chris.  

He believed in you.  

You can feel him right behind you before he wraps his arms around you.  “Did you ever imagine being here Senator?” 

You shake your head. “I imagined a lot of things. I had dreams. But, to do this with you, now,” you look up at him, “I never imagined it like this.”  

For hours, you and. your family stood around, watching results. Chris mentioned that you should rest but you were too keyed up to lie down or even sit down. Hour after hour passed and the race was down to the final couple of states. Then the news anchor interrupted the talking heads on the news.  

“We are now prepared to make the call in Oregon. This evening has been historic in so many ways. But now we are ready to declare Oregon for...” 

Clack.  

Clack.  

Clack.  

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked to your destiny. You assumed it would be hard, to run for president. To deal with the fall out. Your opponent had been cordial in his speech. He talked about uniting the country and not letting politics create a divide.  He was right, the country had to come together now and move forward.  

Chris POV 

Watching my girl waiting to be taken to her seat for the ceremony, it was heart wrenching.  She was so stoic and unnaturally quiet. She had on a beautiful red dress with white accents and her coat was the same blue as the american flag. She had been so brave through all of this. She kept her head up and was gracious. The embodiment of class.  She just had one more thing to do before we could move forward.  

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” 

“I’m scared,” she whispered.  

“Don’t be.  I’m right here.” I took her hand and we were walked to our seats. The ceremony was beautiful in the cold January air.  We listened to the poet laureate and the national anthem done by Taylor Swift. But then it was our cue, to do the part of the ceremony as instructed by the head of the inguration committee.  I smiled as I held out the bible, open to her favorite passage.  

I watched as my girl placed her hand on the bible and then raised her right hand.  

I, YN YMN Evans, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God.” 

The roar of the crowd sounded as she finished her oath. I leaned over to kiss my wife, my president. “Congratulation, madam President.”  

“Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the new President of the United States and new First Gentleman, YN and Chris Evans!” 

Walking out to the inagural ball is surreal. This was our life now for the next four years. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.  As Harry Styles sang Adore You for us again, I held my wife in my arms. “Did you count on this, madam President.” 

She frowned for a second. “I don’t know if i like you callng me that. But no,” she smiled. “I was only counting on you.”  

“You can always count on me, love. Count on it forever.”  

“Just as long as I’m still your forever.”  She sighed as she leaned against me.  “Still not sure about the madam president thing.” 

“How about in public, you are madam President, but in private,” I spin her around and draw her close again, “you’ll always be my little senator.” 

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@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans au #chris evans smut #can I mini series #can I count on forever #political au #asp #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans x senator! reader #valentines day

[stillwintering]

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

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

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Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Roger Salier was handsome, sophisticated, and dull as dishwater.

His manners were impeccable, and he smiled at her with a disarming ease. Their conversation flowed readily -- he laughed when he was supposed to and provided segues whenever there was a lull.

He was, in every sense, the epitome of good breeding. An eligible bachelor, indeed.

Nesta was bored out of her skull.

Roger was the type of millionaire who wanted nothing, completely self-assured in his tastes. Coming here tonight was for entertainment, something to pass the time. Nesta knew quickly that Roger didn't care about the DNC or the success of any of the candidates. He didn't even care about Hybern. To men like Roger, it was impossible to conceive of other people's misfortunes outside the walled gardens of his charmed life.

After nearly twenty minutes, Roger finally offered a personal donation to the Starborn campaign -- thrown out casually like an afterthought while demuring about how he spent the summer on a 45-foot double-masted wishbone-rigged ketch. Shortly after, an eager young woman feigned an acquaintance with Nesta to join their conversation about sailing.

Tossing Azriel an apologetic glance -- he had been pulled into a larger group by Myron nearby -- Nesta quickly excused herself, relieved.

She made her way towards the bar. She needed another drink to wash down the vapidity of the last half hour.

"Can’t stomach how the sausage is made?"

The question sliced through the strum of the party around her. She knew the owner of that voice.

"Eris," she spun on her heels to face him. "I was beginning to worry I'd have to endure the night without your sparkling wit."

His grin was all sharp edges, a predator amongst sheep. "You know I can't resist you, Nesta."

"A fact I try to forget daily, thanks." Nesta rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be schmoozing with the rich and powerful right now? Or are you trying to see how many people you can infuriate in one evening?"

Eris's chuckle sent goosebumps over her skin. "I miss when we used to talk over the phone," he said, giving her a hug that lingered just a second too long. "Though I prefer to infuriate you in person. It's more... intimate."

Pulling back, Nesta shot him a look that could freeze boiling water. "A masochist, then. I've always wondered."

"Only for you," he quipped, unfazed. "So, what poison are we drowning our sorrows in tonight?"

She glanced at the bar, then back at him. "I was going to ask for something strong enough to make me forget this conversation, but I doubt they serve miracles here."

"Ouch, you're cutting deep tonight. Should I be worried about bleeding out?"

"Only if you bleed champagne," she said, her tone lighter now. "Then you might actually contribute something worthwhile to this party."

He leaned in, his voice low and suggestive, "Admit it, you love our little dance."

"Maybe once," she conceded. "But even the best dances come to an end."

At that, Eris seemed genuinely taken aback. He rolled his jaw as if unsure how to respond.

After a long beat, Nesta asked, "Are you consulting for the Morgenstern campaign now like everyone else in the Speaker's Office?" She steered the conversation to safer waters.

Eris studied her, amber eyes glinting dangerously. "No," he replied.

When he offered no elaboration, she tilted her head. "I'm surprised."

"Why?"

"Thesan Morgenstern is the party favorite."

Eris shrugged, a casual gesture, but his demeanor was one of cold calculation. "I'm waiting to see how the dust settles."

"Ah," Nesta smiled. "Of course."

"Do you always think so ill of me?"

Nesta met his gaze squarely. "I think you only think about yourself."

"You're still wasting your talent for the little engine that could." It was Eris’s turn to roll his eyes at her. "Is that due to altruism or a misplaced sense of patriotism?"

"Starborn is the best candidate to defeat Hybern, and you know it," she countered.

"Maybe," he considered. Then, all levity disappeared from his posture, replaced by a menacing aloofness. "Everyone has skeletons in their closets."

Nesta squinted at him, trying to see around his sharp edges. "You've been doing oppo research on Rhys," she finally concluded.

"Nothing Hybern won't also find."

"And?"

He paused, deliberating his next words. She could see him weigh the cost of the information he possessed, and she wondered if she was willing to pay the price.

Eris's gaze roamed the crowd around them, stopping on Cassian in the distance. "Do you know how many people he's killed?" Eris asked.

That was not what she expected. "W-what?" she stammered.

"I pulled his FBI file," Eris replied, his words flat, but his eyes remained trained on Cassian. "Most of it was blacked out. It is not often that I come across personnel files that are classified above the security clearance of the Speaker of the House. Your lapdog was involved in some gnarly shit in Afghanistan."

Nesta felt her breath catch. "You are looking into Cassian," she said, surprised at how small her own voice became.

"An extremely effective blunt instrument, that much is clear even though all his mission details were redacted," he sneered as his eyes narrowed. "There was an interesting report about how Rhysand and Cassian leveled an entire town by themselves to retrieve a POW. It resulted in the highest civilian death ratio of the entire war. Did you know that afterward, the locals took to calling him the Lord of Bloodshed?"

"Stop -- why are you telling me this?"

Eris's amber eyes were penetrating as he turned his attention back to her. “Don't sell yourself short, Nesta,” he replied smoothly. “You can do better than Starborn -- than him."

Nesta felt her face flush with anger. How dare he?

"Jealousy is not a good look on you, Eris," she spat.

He showed no reaction. The soft lights made his red hair glow rose gold as he carded his hand through the strands. "You are --" Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes snapped to a spot behind Nesta's left shoulder. "Speaker Beron."

"Vanserra," a gruff voice sounded behind her. "Come, I need to introduce you to someone."

Eris leaned in for a kiss goodbye. "I'll see you around," he murmured in her ear.

Nesta turned around to see Eris stalk off with the older man. Beron made no effort to acknowledge her. She watched them cross the terrace to join a group of severe-looking men, shaking their hands. Eris's movements were elegant, sure -- every bit of the cold-blooded political killer she knew in action.

Why did he tell her this? He would only give her privileged information if it served his own purposes somehow. There was something she was missing.

Nesta ordered another glass of wine at the bar and then wandered back onto the grounds towards the elm tree where she had left Cassian earlier in the evening. Mor had fluttered off somewhere, probably wooing more donors for the campaign.

Cassian was in the middle of a heated conversation with three members of the DNC leadership. He gave her a tentative smile when greeting her but continued discussing something about the fall debate schedule and campaign finances.

She slid into place smoothly beside him. His hand briefly touched hers, like a question.

Nesta didn't bother to keep up, nodding and absentmindedly contributing a comment or two when necessary. Instead, she was turning over the new information, again and again, trying to reconcile the different versions of Cassian.

The Lord of Bloodshed -- Nesta knew in her heart that it had to be true. Cassian would have been a force to be reckoned with, lethal and decisive, with lightning-fast reflexes and all ruthless grace on the battlefield.

An angel of death.

Nesta traced the rim of her glass, unable to look up at his face. She had only ever seen one person die, her mother, and it nearly destroyed her.

I was a good soldier, he had told her. How many people had he killed during the war? How many people did he watch perish in front of him, because of him?

She wondered if there was a limit, a number to the amount of death that she wouldn't be able to bear.

Cassian cast her a sidelong glance, concern in those gentle hazel eyes. He was gorgeous, silhouetted against the twinkling light -- indulgent like he had been melded from the magical possibilities of summer nights.

How could he bear it?

At the end of the evening, when his hand brushed against hers again, Nesta recoiled.

---

When Nesta arrived at her office on Monday morning, she was greeted by a large bouquet of flowers. It was a wild yet elegant display of snapdragons, tulips, and proteas in a delicate crystal vase. The arrangement was so stunning that Nesta paused to take it in before she read the card, smiling to herself.

“It looks like you made quite an impression with Roger Salier,” Feyre said appraisingly as she came into the office a few moments later.

Nesta trained her expression to neutral as she said, “Roger is making a donation to the campaign.”

She touched the flowers. Roger was not subtle.

Feyre's blue-gray eyes flickered with amusement. "You had a good time at the fundraiser?"

For a moment, Nesta didn’t know how to answer that question. Her mind was still stuck on the wounded look on Cassian's face when she had left him at the end of the night. She wanted to be open, wanted to let him in... but now she wasn’t sure if she could look into those warm hazel eyes and not see how much violence he was capable of.

The war had always existed in the abstract for her. She read and wrote about it. She had reviewed videos and photos from the frontlines when she was reporting. She knew it had been bloody, deadly, and harrowing. Intellectually, she knew the statistics and fatality reports, but it had always been far away from her day-to-day.

Cassian -- and Azriel and Rhysand -- had lived it, had been forged by it.

How did all that killing not break him? She couldn't shake the horror from her bones.

She willed herself to not glance over at Cassian's open desk on the other side of the room -- how he had left it, clean and orderly, while he was working in Raleigh, Greensboro, or wherever else the campaign needed him. He was gone for another week. But she knew if she opened her inbox right now, she would find at least three new emails from him. He always called her first thing to check in with her about logistics and media strategy. She could hear his voice -- "Good morning, sweetheart!" -- ringing clearly in her mind before she even picked up her phone.

"It was work," Nesta finally replied, refocusing her thoughts.

Feyre hesitated, watching Nesta's posture stiffen, her jaw clenching and unclenching. "I thought the society piece in the Velaris paper turned out okay," she finally said, looking nervous. "What did you think?"

"The luncheon was a huge success," Nesta reassured her softly. "You should be proud."

Feyre's answering smile was radiant. "Thank you, again, for your help with that interview."

"You are a natural, Feyre. I'd like to set you up for more interviews," Nesta returned her smile. "Rhys is lucky to have you."

She tried to infuse the words with as much sincerity as she could. It was true -- Rhys was incredibly lucky to have Feyre as his partner. She smoothed out his rough edges and tempered his bravado.

Nesta had watched the two of them work the attendees and schmooze the donors in perfect harmony at the fundraiser, charming everyone. They made for an exceedingly handsome couple.

Feyre blushed, looking away. Nesta sat down at her desk.

"Is there anything else?"

"Well," Feyre hesitated again and then barreled forward. "Nyx's birthday is coming up in September. We were thinking about having a party for him here -- in DC, at the Townhouse. I know you always send him something in the mail. But I was wondering if this year, maybe, if you are in town then, whether you would --"

Nesta reached out and put her hand on her sister's arm. "I'll be there," she said quickly.

She felt a deep well of sadness open in her chest -- she was the cause of such trepidation, that her own sister would be so nervous to make a simple personal request. Even though Nesta didn't know how to be a part of her nephew's life, it didn't mean she didn't want to try.

"Elain is planning the party. She's baking a cake," Feyre blurted out, looking truly pained. "We -- all of us would love to have you."

Nesta swallowed, a mixture of shame and guilt swirling in her gut.

"I'll be there," she repeated. And she knew she would, for Nyx.

---

"You're avoiding me." Gwyn's voice was irate.

Nesta grimaced. "I didn't mean to."

On the last Thursday of August, Nesta cleared her schedule for dinner and drinks with her two best friends. Gwyn and Emerie had even made the trip to Capitol Hill since Nesta couldn't go far from the office. She had appointments all day with barely any break time in between. Gwyn had traveled to DC to meet with other women's advocacy groups during the day.

Now that the summer was coming to an end, the campaign was starting up in earnest. The fall meant the first round of debates. Then, the Iowa Caucus was right around the corner -- the middle of January. The remaining primaries fell in quick succession after that. Nesta suspected that by next March, they would know the party's nominee. It was shaping up to be a two-man race between Morgenstern and Starborn.

They were hurtling quickly towards the real storm ahead: the general election against Hybern. The coming months would fly by.

"Work has been insane," Nesta tried to explain. "Morgenstern has the edge on us with both media coverage and fundraising. We are trying to reach a new demographic, but our social media strategy needs to be overhauled and --"

Emerie was not impressed. "Yes, yes, we know the campaign is important." She waved her hand dismissively. "You always get like this when you're overwhelmed. But this time it feels different from your usual workaholism. "

Emerie was dressed head to toe in black. Her silk shirt was cut asymmetrically in a modern, almost architectural style. Nesta always admired Emerie's ability to pull off the most daring designs. She also admired Emerie's ability to cut through any and all bullshit.

Gwyn reached out and touched Nesta's forearm. "Just talk to us."

Nesta sighed into her cocktail. She wasn't avoiding her friends. She just hadn't decided how she felt herself.

"I didn't expect how difficult it was going to be, working with my sisters," she finally offered.

Gwyn regarded her over her own cocktail, her bright teal eyes bright and open. "Have you talked about what happened?"

Nesta shook her head. "I can't."

There was a weight against her chest -- the past crashing into the present. She could smell the antiseptic of hospital rooms in her nostrils. She had diminished all her anger and grief to an abstraction, forced it all back into the recesses of her memories where it sat inchoate and simmering.

Nesta had watched her own mother die, hooked up to tubes and wires; the cancer had wasted her body away -- she had decided to stop eating and drinking. It took ten days. Then she couldn't bear to do it again when her father asked for her at the end. What kind of daughter was she who refused to go to her own father's deathbed? What kind of sister was she who disappeared for years?

She couldn't bear it.

The depth of her shame had already swallowed her heart whole.

Gwyn didn't look away, as if she knew everything Nesta wanted to voice, everything she failed to do, and still didn't find all her shortcomings reprehensible.

Gwyn and Emerie knew, and they were still here. Nesta couldn't put into words how much that meant.

"Your sisters will understand," Emerie hummed.

Nesta downed her drink, pushing down the tidal wave of all that she couldn't allow herself to feel.

"Let's talk about something else."

---

Gwyn missed her train back to New York.

At the night's end, the three of them piled into a taxi -- drunk and giggling. Nesta was giddy with fondness for her friends. They always had a way of picking up exactly where they had left off.

"Come on, Berdara. You're going home with me!" Nesta announced as the taxi pulled up to her Art Deco apartment building.

Emerie protested, but Nesta was already dragging Gwyn out of the backseat.

"Leave me to fend for myself, why don't you." Emerie pouted.

Gwyn wobbled, laughing. "Text when you get home!" She hiccuped, her face red in the car window.

Nesta threw her arms around Gwyn's waist as they entered her building. The taxi sped off towards Emerie's house on the other side of the city.

They fell into Nesta's bed, and neither bothered to undress. They were a tipsy tangle of limbs and wild hair. It was familiar and absurd, like they were back in college again -- twenty years old and didn't know better -- stumbling back to their shared dorm after a long night partying.

Gwyn's body was warm against her as they fell asleep. Nesta couldn't remember the last time she had someone in her bed.

---

Nesta saw Gwyn off early the next day at the train station. Gwyn had to call into work sick for the morning, but the train should get her back into Manhattan on time for her afternoon appointments.

They both had wakened to pounding headaches and roiling stomaches. "I'm never drinking again," Gwyn had groaned.

"We are too old for this," Nesta had agreed miserably.

Then, Gwyn gave Nesta a bone-crushing hug goodbye at Washington Union Station.

"I see you, Nesta, and I still love you." Her parting words.

Nesta blinked back the sting in her eyes as Gwyn vanished into the throng of commuters.

---

"Miss Nesta Archeron, are you hungover?"

Cassian watched her jump upon seeing him leaning against her desk in the office.

She stared at him for a long minute as if determining whether he was really there -- it was early enough that no one else had arrived yet. He hadn't told her he had decided to return to DC before the end of the month. It was meant to be a surprise, and she was indeed surprised.

She blinked at him -- it was adorable. "Too loud," she finally grumbled, rubbing her temples.

"Tsk, tsk, indulging on a school night, were we?" he chided, grinning wide.

She huffed and dropped into her chair, resigned to the fact that he was really there.

Cassian scanned her over. Nesta was always put together, and today was no exception. She wore a tailored navy shift dress that tastefully hugged all her curves. Her makeup was natural and precise, but Cassian could see the fatigue from the previous night peeking through.

She leaned back in her seat, eyes weary and tired, waiting for him to continue. The way she looked up at him through her lashes was so devastating that Cassian felt all thoughts in his mind empty until nothing was left but her piercing gaze -- like he could only exist under that intent gaze.

For weeks, all Cassian wanted to do was see her in person, not just exchange messages and phone calls. Things had felt off ever since they parted at the Hewn fundraiser earlier in August. One moment, he was practically pressing his face against hers in the soft twinkling lights -- God, she smelled incredible -- and the next, she was avoiding him.

Their relationship felt like a pendulum, swinging close then away.

"Tell me about your big night out on the town?" he prompted.

She propped her elbows on the desk and massaged her temples. "Girls night," replied Nesta. "Please go away."

Cassian softened immediately. "What do you need, Nes?" he asked. "More tea? Maybe something greasy? Or is the hair of the dog more your style?"

Nesta shot him a narrow glance. "Is silence an option on the menu?" she countered.

"Silence and me? We're hardly acquainted," Cassian retorted with a smirk, pushing himself off her desk.

"Maybe it's time you introduced yourself to it." She did look genuinely miserable.

Cassian poured her a glass of water. "Here," he said, placing it in front of her and looking at his watch. "I'll get you more tea and breakfast after this morning's meeting."

The main door swung open as if on cue to reveal Amren, Azriel, and Rhysand. They were in the middle of an animated discussion, but all three stopped in their tracks when they noticed Nesta and Cassian.

"Cass!" Rhysand exclaimed, his face lit up.

Both Azriel and Rhys swung their arms around either side of Cassian's shoulders. Cassian laughed, letting himself settle into the joy of his brothers' company.

Amren cut through the reunion with a sharp look toward Nesta. "You look a little worse for wear," she commented dryly, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Nesta.

"Eventful night?" Azriel asked, his tone light but smug as he glanced meaningfully between Cassian and Nesta.

Nesta sunk back further into her seat.

"This one is hungover," said Cassian with a dry laugh. "And don't look at me -- for once, I had nothing to do with it."

Amren rolled her eyes. She walked purposefully towards Rhysand's inner office, ready to start their morning team meeting. She gestured for the group to follow her.

Never one for beating around the bush, Amren announced over her shoulder, “Let’s beat Thesan fucking Morgenstern.”

#nesta x cassian #nessian #fanfic #a court of silver flames #cassian #nesta archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #nesta #all's fair in love and politcs #political au #nesta and cassian #archive of our own #nesta and cassian are working on a political campaign

[ophidion]

the last great american dynasty

part 5: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness and let us put on the armor of light

Fandom: The Rings of Power Fanfiction Pairing: Galadriel / Halbrand | Sauron , Celebrían / Elrond Peredhel Rating: E Chapter: 5 of 5 Word Count: 46,971

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a #haladriel and #celrond political AU where the doom of mandos is the kennedy curse, the southlands and smithing are Texas’s oil industry, Feanor is FDR, Finrod is JFK, and Galadriel is the last girl left alive of an almost dead dynasty.

#haladriel #haladriel fanfic #haladriel fic #galadriel #halbrand #galadriel x halbrand #rings of power fic #rings of power #sauron x galadriel #sauron #trop #trop fic #political au #kennedy au #flavors of house of cards #celrond #celebrian #elrond #elrond fic #celrond fic #70s au #90s au #house of cards au #look i need to reiterate because it's FAR more morally grey #news and media au #i write

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Hahahahahaha, look at this fucking gif I made hahahahahaha. When I say write for yourself, I mean it. I like dinosaurs. I like politics. I wrote a DINOSAUR POLITICAL FIC.

A darling hero beta'd this fic for me months after I finished it. I hadn't bothered asking anyone to help me proofread because I figured no one would want to and that no one would read it, and then people read it (blushes) and enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed it, and I felt bad for making people read all my typos.

So here is my dino love story, typo free. Here is what I am proud of about this story:

It's the only fic on AO3 with the tag "Stuckysaurus"

It's the only fic on AO3 with the tag "Trilobites have a key part in the plot"

Chapter 11 (Bucky and Sarah's Big Day Out) is perfect to me and I wouldn't change a single word.

It has two optional endings in honor of my favorite childhood movie, Clue, because I was a VERY WEIRD CHILD.

It includes discussion of ocean acidification and algae blooms due to agricultural runoff.

This fic has around 20 sex scenes (including inferred sex scenes) and the most common descriptor it gets is adorable and wholesome. That's me, with the adorable, wholesome smut.

I am actually planning on writing a prequel to this story as part of my Marvel Trumps Hate Auction and I'm QUITE excited about it. It will be a political campaign story featuring Steve Rogers and Valkyrie and they are going to punch neo-nazis and make out in alleys while running Peggy Carter's Senate Campaign. I like what I like.

Monoclonius by Zenaidamacrouras1

Summary:

Steve Rogers is a single dad / environmental lobbyist with a v cute kid who loves dinosaurs and OMG---> who is that v adorable paleontologist with the ocean blue eyes and flowing dark mane of beautiful hairs, Y'ALL!

Will they ever smooch? (They will probably smooch).

#Monoclonius #Stuckysaurus #buckycephalosaurus #stucky au #new to stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #Political au #paleontologist au #adorable wholesome smut

[pieceofchocolate]

if anyone's curious here's a political compass i made for mastermind months ago and haven't known where to post yet lmao

#fic: mastermind #political au #jegulus fic

[georgiapeach30513]

Pretty Little Secrets, You’re Going Home

Summary: Andy pays for his Clover

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  some language, mentioning of prostitution, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 700

Series Masterlist

“So, what things do you like to do?” Andy gives you a kind smile, but his face falls when you chuckle at him. “I think I’m confused.”

“You’re a smart man, Andrew Barber. You came to the Hive, found the precious Cherry Blossom to be a bit too much work. Didn’t want to corrupt her. But you continued to come here, seeking out a woman of a different caliber, winding up in my room. You’ve known about me and the Hive for a few months now. You know that we are heavily guarded. Some of us just your common bed whore. Used for men’s folly, but they won’t take us home as wives. So tell me, what do you do for fun? Besides laying over top of me.”

He leans back, running his fingers through his beard, smirking at you. “So, are you looking for a wife, or a bed companion?”

“Can I not be looking for both?” he cocks up an eyebrow at you, and you let your defenses down.

“You had the perfect one. Untainted and pure.”

“While Cherry was beautiful, she’s much too young, and I don’t want to put the time into training her to be as you call it a bed companion. Yes, she could make a suitable wife, but what would the future president look like with a girl on my arm. I want a woman.”

“And I was that woman?” he nods his head, and you turn away from his handsome face. He is much better looking than just the average man with money. Wasn’t someone that beat around the bush, nor did he feel emasculated by your strong words.

“Future president you say?”

“Leading with eighty-five precent in the polls. My manager said a man with a wife and child would look better to the public.”

“Oh,” you give him a nod. “So we’re not waiting? Like you’re serious, you want to take me out of the Hive? I thought you were just wanting…”

“Just sex is not what I want from you. I realize that this isn’t the ideal living situation. You listen to me when I complain to you about life as a politician, and now I’m propositioning you. I can’t continue to come to the Hive for a…bed companion. I need a wife. Do you want to leave the Hive, and become mine? You will be expected to act as a housewife, preferably we don’t wait to get you pregnant.”

“One prison to the next, huh?” Andy tilts his head to the side looking at you. You become harden, as you try and tell yourself, that you had not been falling for him. And you can’t make yourself believe, that he was falling for you, too, “There’s others that are better trained.”

“I don’t want others, I want you. I haven’t been with others. I’ve only been with you.”

You sigh, shaking your head, “You see where I’m at? The east side of the Hive. We’re left to become common whores. The ones on the west are the housewives. You’ve chosen wrong.”

“I choose you. Paid a ridiculous amount to keep anyone else from you,” Andy stands from his chair, joining you on the bed. When your body starts to lay down, he lifts you up. “There won’t be any of that, unless you tell me that you will be my wife. No one has to ever know where you come from.”

“Meaning, you’d like if they didn’t know, Mr. President?” he answers by nodding his head, grabbing onto both of your hands, he holds them to his chest.

“You won’t be imprisoned. But realize there’s still people going to be watching you. In our home, you are free to be you. In the White House with the staff around, you will be Mrs. Barber. But…”

“Okay,” you interrupt him quickly, knowing there could be worse things than becoming the First Lady. “This means a lot of dresses, and skirts, huh?”

“Only for the cameras. Inside the White House with our children, I would hope you wore something more comfortable. So, shall I sign your papers for release? You’re ready to become my wife?” all it takes is a simple answer of confirmation, and Andy is heading towards the door. “Pack your things Clover, you’re going home.”

Masterlist

Taglist:   @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida​ @peaches1958 ​ @thedarkplume​ @duuhrayliegh​ @rebekahdawkins​ @johndeaconshands  

#pretty little secrets drabble #pretty little secrets #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x clover #andy barber fanfiction #political au #president!andy barber #wife grooming

[tomionefinds]

Hi! Do you know of any good tomione political fics? Such as Tom being more conservative and Hermione liberal leaning.

Hey Anon,

Here's a few they're not specifically political as far as the house/stances but maybe have hints a their moral standings. Then I I did a search and found a few more that based on a cursory glance they also have a political background/backdrop. -JD

A Marked Deck by betagyre This is a sequel to Choosing Grey E/Ma | Complete | 190k Minister for Magic Tom Riddle has a family and a position of immense political power, and he must adapt to the responsibility that comes with both. But Hermione has much to adjust to as well, married to someone who is still very much a power-hungry Dark wizard. Follows Choosing Grey. Politicians by LadyMiya E/Ma | Complete | 25k You would have thought that Hermione Granger, a major in Political Science, would know better than invite a stranger from a pub home. But then, she would never be a true politician if she did.

communication errors by esotyric (devilrie) T+ | Complete | 8k sender: [email protected] recipient: [email protected] subject: Today’s Meeting

Granger – Attached is the dry-cleaning bill for the shirt you ruined when you threw your tea at it. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I happened to be wearing the shirt at the time. You are lucky it was cold. Pay the bill and I won’t sue you for assault.

Regards, Thomas Marvolo Riddle CEO of Walpurgis Corporate

sender: [email protected] recipient: [email protected] subject: re: Today’s Meeting

Riddle – I did notice, because unlike you, I can identify when something is being inhabited, you forest-destroying monster.

You do not require a dry cleaner to get herbal tea out of a shirt. The shirt was black, the tea was camomile, and you have no grounds on which to stand nor sue. Your company, however, WILL be exposed for the havoc it is wreaking upon our natural world.

Sincerely, Hermione Jean Granger CEO of Not being a Twat

Scandal by Nekositting E/Ma | Complete | 12k His eyes were fixated on her, lips turned into a frown as if trying to will Hermione to answer truthfully to his question. What he didn’t know was that she planned to avoid the question altogether. To lie outright because telling him that Tom bloody Riddle was feeling her up beneath the table in the middle of a political dinner was unacceptable.

A most personal incentive by Baryshnikov M | One Shot | 5k If Tom wanted to achieve his political goals, then he'd have to persuade Hermione of them first.

dove by con_fection E/Ma | WIP | 8k Just weeks ago, political activist Hermione Granger had been one of the jurors to convict serial killer and alleged cult leader Tom Marvolo Riddle of a host of violent crimes, including multiple counts of murder and grievous bodily harm.

He had almost managed to convince the other jurors that he was innocent, enrapturing them with his alluring visage and a story about his less than pleasant upbringing.

But, in spite of all of his anglicism, perfect looks and charismatic disposition, Hermione Granger could see straight through him, to the monster that lay beneath. Eventually, she had convinced the other jurors to see it, too.

There is only one question left in her mind, the question that won't leave her alone, the question that keeps her awake at night: why?

Political Animals by Macabre Marionette M | WIP | 5k The Capitol Hill has always been the playground for the ambitious and powerful. The newly elected Senator Tom Riddle is raising hell over his head, and who was Hermione Granger to stop him? [Non-Magical AU]

The Power Vacuum Conundrum by Spork_in_the_Road M | Abandoned | 32k Note: not about the kind of vacuum that sucks up dirt in muggle homes.

Hermione Granger goes back in time, not to save the future Dark Lord's soul, and not kill him. Instead, she figures she'll offer him some competition for the role of World Leader. She knows that when Grindelwald falls, there will be room for a new player on the field. At least this way, Hermione knows she's the lesser of two evils.

#tomione #Tom: Minister of Magic #political au #muggle au #drama #smut

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "And It Is Surely To Their Credit" by: @ReaperWriter

I've always loved this political-themed modern AU with Emma and Killian as fellow workers in MM's campaign and secretly pining for each other. It's brilliant, with all the feels and an intense bit of action to boot. They've been keeping their feelings held close to the vest not to jeopardize their friendship or the cause, but when something life-threatening happens, the dams break at last. It's a short MC, about five chapters - but you'll definitely want to devour it in one sitting! :)

I attempted some fanart as well - @reaperwriter, if you see this, I hope you'll like it!

"And It Is Surely To Their Credit" by: @ReaperWriter

#csfrm #cs fic rec monday #cs modern au #political au #and it is surely to their credit #modern au mc #major cs fic rec #such a talented shipmate

[hannaswritingblog]

meet me at the crossroads 3: trains, cats & coffee shops [a short story]

Part 3 of this and this story

Disclaimer: the events depicted in this story are fictional and the places, as well as some mentioned people, are meant to be vague, but the girls who have inspired the main characters are very much real and I guarantee they had a lot of fun together when they met in similar circumstances.

Tags: original fiction, real person fiction, no reader insert, self insert, friend insert, political au [inside joke], coffee shop au (but it's a cat cafe), there is only one bed (but it's a cat toy)

Word count: 1.2k

Collaboration with and a birthday gift for @winterxisxcomingx 💜🎁 I hope you didn't think I forgot about this story, because there's no way I would! I know it's been a while since our meeting that inspired this part, but I finally gained back some inspiration, so it was time to write it. I also thought I wouldn't manage to finish it in time but I ended up pushing through. XD I hope you'll enjoy! Happy birthday sis bestie!!!

It’s a warm spring morning when Hanna boards a train in the city she studies in, the train that would get her to the city where Winter currently lives. It’s about to be the third time they meet, but it doesn’t make her any less excited – if anything, it makes Hanna even happier that she managed to arrange another meeting with her friend.

Her adventures start almost immediately after she sits in her spot. The man sitting across from her looked familiar even when she saw him on the platform, but now she finally realises who he is. She takes out her phone to text Winter:

Hi, my train just took off. And guess who’s on it with me!

The reply doesn’t arrive immediately – in fact, it takes Winter almost an hour to see Hanna’s message and respond:

I don’t know, who?

Think, bestie! Who could I text you about? Especially when we meet in a few hours, this one just couldn’t wait until we see each other

OMG, is that Krzysztof?

YES

GO TALK TO HIM

I CAN’T, I feel like it would be weird, but maybe we’re gonna catch him when the train arrives at your station?

SURE, I’M GONNA LOOK OUT FOR HIM

Even though Hanna has planned other activities for her ride, like reading a book and listening to music, she can’t focus on anything else than peeking at the politician she and Winter became close with over the course of the last few months. She hopes he will notice her and possibly strike a conversation first once he has a chance, but at the same time she’s weirdly scared of meeting him again. While their two previous meetings were planned and both she and her friend could prepare to see him, this time it took them by surprise, especially her, since Winter has now been warned.

After a long journey the train arrives at its destination. Hanna steps out to the station, trying to keep her eye on Krzysztof, but she soon loses him in a crowd. She starts looking for Winter instead, hoping she had a chance to catch their mutual friend.

The girls eventually find each other and immediately fall into a hug.

“What took you so long? I thought it’s not your train yet,” Winter asks.

“I had to look around to make sure I don’t walk past you,” Hanna explains. “But I thought you saw Krzysztof? He would be your sign that this was the right train.”

“No, I must’ve missed him… But if he’s in town, maybe we’ll see him later!”

With that thought in mind, the girls walk out of the station and into the city.

The two friends spend a wonderful day together, walking around, trying not to get lost and just enjoying each other’s company. For a moment they even forget the man Hanna saw on the train – the man they both secretly consider to be their other friend. The only remark they make about him is when the evening approaches and Winter suddenly asks:

“Are you sure it was Krzysztof that you saw on the train? Or maybe just someone that looked similar to him?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure, why?” Hanna asks back.

“Nothing, I’m just wondering… I really haven’t noticed him at the station, and I feel like we would have bumped into him already if he was here. Plus, why didn’t he tell us? He knows well that I study here, so maybe…”

“You know he’s busy, there’s a lot going on in the parliament right now,” Hanna interrupts her friend. “Maybe it slipped his mind that you study here, or he forgot to let you know he’d be here. Or maybe he was just changing trains…”

“Maybe…” Winter shrugs her shoulders. “But even if that’s weird, I simply kind of miss him.”

“Yeah, I know. I miss him too. Who knows, perhaps we’ll meet him tomorrow?”

With such a finish to their conversation, the girls decide to part their ways. Not having a way to accommodate her friend at her university dorms, Winter walks Hanna to the hostel she’s staying at for the night and leaves her there to rest.

On the next day Winter planned a visit to a cat cafe. She’s been there before, but not with Hanna, and she knows how much of a cat person her friend is, so they couldn’t miss it.

“It’s good you made a reservation,” Hanna remarks when they both sit by the table with menus in their hands. “Seems like the place is going to be packed today.”

Winter looks around the cafe and agrees with her friend. It’s only 11 in the morning and there’s only one free table left – a table next to theirs, with a reservation for one person. Without thinking much of it, girls go back to the conversation they had before they entered the cafe. They only take a small break to go to the bar and order coffees and cake.

“Hey, do you want to play with the cats?” Winter suggests as they wait for their drinks and treats. “I think there is one more cat toy left just here…”

“You’re talking about this one?”

The girls turn their heads towards a man who suddenly appeared by the table next to them, holding a cat wand in his hand. They immediately start smiling when they recognize Krzysztof.

“I told you I saw him!” Hanna exclaims, startling one of the cats sitting next to her. Shushed by a waitress, she lowers her voice and adds: “I told Winter you were with me on the train, but she started doubting me!”

“Yeah, sorry about that…” Winter tells her friend. Turning to Krzysztof, she says: “But I didn’t see you at the station, and you didn’t tell us you’d be here.”

“That’s right. I’m here on business matters and I couldn’t really fill you in, I hope you understand,” he explains. “I also wasn’t sure if I’d have time to do anything here outside the job, so I didn’t want to bother you in case I had to cancel.”

“Oh, that’s completely understandable,” Winter agrees.

“Yes, definitely,” Hanna confirms.

All three of them go quiet, interrupted by the waitress approaching with Winter’s and Hanna’s order. She places the plates in front of them, smiles at them and goes back to the bar.

“I’m glad I didn’t approach you in the train though, I guess it would bother you,” Hanna adds.

“No, it wouldn’t bother me at all,” Krzysztof responds quickly, “but it would definitely be harder for me to pretend I’m not here.”

“Well, but you ARE here now,” Winter says, “so… could you share the cat toy with us, please?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Here you go,” the man says and hands the toy over to the girl. “I think I should go and order something anyway. What do you recommend?”

“I’ve only been here once before and all I tried was a latte, but I’ve heard they make really good cappuccinos.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll have a cappuccino.”

And just like that, the three unlikely friends get to spend a few hours together, drinking coffee and sharing the only cat toy left in the cat cafe.

#hanna's writing #hannaswritingblog #meet me at the crossroads #meet me at the crossroads 3 #trains cats & coffee shops #original fiction #real person fiction #no reader insert #self insert #friend insert #political au #inside joke #coffee shop au (but it's a cat cafe) #there is only one bed (but it's a cat toy) #not requested #gift for someone #collab #winterxisxcomingx #tumblr sister

[preet-01]

Maxiel Political AU

Word Count: 1026

Summary: Max Verstappen only had one goal - to be President. It's all he's wanted since he was just seven years old and all that he's worked towards. But bachelors don't get elected as Presidents, for the most part. Enter Daniel Ricciardo. Daniel's the ideal candidate for the country's most prominent and stressful unpaid job: the President's loving partner, a pretty bauble for the country to fall in love with and look towards. In secret meetings, contracts are signed and a marriage is arranged. Max and Daniel must convince the American people that they are a loving couple and perfect for the White House.

||| Next >>

Chapter One

When you’re about seven years old, the American schooling system likes to ask one question. One question that’s asked to every kid in the country regardless of where they live. 

What do you want to be when you grow up? 

There are the sensible answers, of course. Then there are the impractical ones. And finally the impossible answers. 

Daniel Ricciardo at the young age of seven had answered by saying that he wanted to be just like his daddy. With a powerful name and an even more powerful family to back him, no one had thought his answer to be impractical or impossible. Daniel Ricciardo had the money and privilege to be anything he wanted, and most importantly he had a family that’d move heaven and earth for him. 

Across the country and a few years later, Max Verstappen had answered that he wanted to be President and it was far from the sensible answer. Little boys from poor families and no political connections don’t make it to the White House, he’d been told. Those hadn’t been the exact words, but as Max got older he understood that was the gist of what his teacher had said back then. 

When they ask you that question at seven, it’s not very serious. It’s just a question that you can change the answer to a hundred times if you want to. But just 10 years later when it’s asked again in a slightly different form, the question dictates everything else about your future. 

What do you want to major in? 

Daniel had been 16 when he answered that question — the woes of a birthday in what he liked to call no-man’s land. His July birthday was late enough that he was always the youngest in his class, but early enough that his school enrollment hadn’t been deferred by a year. 

At 16 years old, Daniel Ricciardo chose political science while deciding to do a pre-law program. He still wanted to be just like his father and go into government. And just like his father, his eyes were set on the White House. So he majors in political science and picks Yale University — not that the university was much of a choice when generations of Ricciardos went to Yale. 

Two years later, his dreams of being like his father and the White House are shattered in the white, clinical walls of the doctor’s office. 

A few nights later, they get trampled on. 

“You’ll just have to marry the President,” his grandfather says when they tell the family, “or pray that your cousin has the makings of a strong President.” And at that dinner, Daniel understands why Michelle kept minimal contact with their grandfather. 

Daniel doesn’t say anything, just nods his head and clenches his fists. No one contradicts what his grandfather says, not Daniel, not Michelle, not his mother, not his father. 

It simply is not done. So Daniel pivots despite his father’s desire to change the whole damn system so Daniel can be anything he wants. Daniel pivots and finds new things he enjoys now that holding office is a far-fetched dream. He pivots and applies to Georgetown’s Law School on a whim instead of the law schools at Yale or Harvard that everyone else expected him to apply to. 

The life he begins to build isn’t one he’d envisioned all those years ago when he sat in a counselor’s office and chose political science as his major. But at 30 years old and a respected lawyer who gets to argue for a living, Daniel is… content. 

Max is 17 when they ask him what he wants to major in and expect him to decide what his life will be like for the next 40+ years. 

He doesn’t have to think too hard about the answer because it really isn’t a question at all. Max had known since he was seven years old how he wanted his life to play out. His father knew. His mother knew. And by this point, even his little sister was well aware of what Max wanted to become one day. 

At 17 years old, Max picks his major to be public policy and administration with a minor in political communication and campaigning. While his classmates apply to schools like NYU, Columbia, Princeton, Rutgers, Harvard, MIT, and other major schools, Max applies to CUNY – Baruch College specifically. 

Max doesn’t have the luxury of not working while going through college. On weekdays, he works at his local representative’s office answering constituent phone calls and filing papers. On weekends, he works at the old, somewhat rundown arcade. And in between all of that, Max does his schoolwork. 

Piece by piece things fall into place for Max’s goals. While working with one of the New York Senators in DC, Max finishes his graduate program and he returns to New York for his own campaign for state office. He spends a few years there, making his name known in the community that will eventually elect him for higher offices.

Then he runs for the US House of Representatives – already a well known figure in his local community and known for having people’s best interest in mind, he wins in a landslide. The House of Representatives is dramatic and chaotic and not where Max wants to spend the rest of his career. 

So he runs for a Senate position when the previous Senator decides to retire. It’s the next rung in the career ladder, or at least it is in his opinion as many of his colleagues in the House are quite happy with their positions there. 

His position in the House had been great for introducing him to the national stage of politics, but it is in the Senate where Max makes him name known and puts himself in contention for the highest office in the US political system. 

Max’s sight is set on a position higher than a US Senator. No, Max Verstappen wants to be President of the United States. He wants to be the leader of the free world. He wants and wants until he’s standing at the top of the US political hierarchy. 

________

Posting the first chapter felt very needed after quali last night

The title is from a quote that is attributed to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”

#maxiel #political au #daniel ricciardo x max verstappen #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo

[thinkatoryprocess]

the craziest romencken script moment to me is still LITTLE BOY!!!! Major political campaign manager roman and jeryd as his boss vibes

I think I experienced actual physical pain reading that specific cut section because it's utterly no heterosexual explanation. It's flirting and it's a lot and if you witnessed this you would KNOW.

I agree that section is very political AU though, Jeryd enjoying having a lot of power in the situation.

#asks #romencken #political au

[stillwintering]

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

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Cassian spent the rest of his evening at the River House, which had turned into an impromptu campaign headquarters of sorts. After all the official business was settled and Amren had left to take the last flight back to DC, Cassian found himself lingering in the company of Rhys and Azriel. They gathered in Rhys's expansive wood-paneled study for a nightcap.

It had been too long since the three of them had the chance to simply exist together as brothers in arms without the weight of duty or the shadow of danger looming over them.

The day's activities had visibly taken a toll on Rhys, understandable given how many media appearances he completed. By all accounts, the speech had been a resounding success, yet Rhys seemed lost in thought, gazing pensively at the drink in his hand, almost sad.

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet." Cassian's voice broke the silence. He leaned in, trying to catch Rhys's eye, giving him a teasing nudge on the elbow. Azriel, seated in an armchair on Rhys's other side, only observed silently.

Rhys raised his head, a faint smile on his lips, though his eyes remained somber. "Something like that."

Cassian sucked in a breath. "I'm afraid it's too late to turn back now, brother." He held up his crystal glass, the amber liquid inside glinting in the lamplight, before taking a sip. "The horse is out of the barn."

"What if..." Rhys looked away to the moonlit sky out the window of his study and the Sidra sparkling under the stars.

"It will be a tough fight for the nomination and a even tougher fight in the general election." Cassian smiled at him reassuringly. "It's going to be hard and chances are, we'll lose. But no one will fault you for that."

Rhys shook his head, his expression turning resolute. "No, I mean what if I actually win?"

A moment of realization washed over Cassian. "There's no one else I'd trust more with such power and responsibility," he told him.

"I don't trust myself," Rhys murmured, his voice tinged with a vulnerability rare for him.

"I know you." Azriel knocked his knee gently against Rhys's. "You're the one," he stated firmly.

Rhys's gaze drifted away again, his doubts still clinging to him like shadows.

Cassian turned to Azriel. "They say a good man can't get elected President these days," he mused with a half-smile. "I refuse to believe that. Do you, Az?"

"Absolutely not," he responded without hesitation.

"And you think I'm that man?" Rhys interjected, his face still dark, "Does it matter that I'm not as sure?"

"Do you remember that operation outside of Kabul? The one that went sideways real fast?" Cassian reclined back in his armchair, his demeanor thoughtful. "Our first hot zone and we were completely outgunned, stuck in a crossfire with enemy combatants all around. I’ll be honest, I thought we were done for. We were just rookies back then. But you, Rhys, you just took over like you were born to do it. Directing our moves, calling out targets, staying cool under that kind of heat. You got us out of there with zero civilian casualties. It’s a rare thing, Rhys."

Cassian stopped to catch his eye. "I knew from that moment that I would follow you into the Mist of Avalon."

Azriel only chuckled while Rhys let out a dry laugh. "Cass, please, you're the one with the natural aptitude for strategic combat." Rhys waved his hand. "But I do find, somehow, urban warfare easier to navigate than politics."

Cassian raised his glass in a toast, prompting the others to do the same. "To fighting the good fight then," he announced with a wink. "Political or otherwise."

Azriel joined in, his glass meeting theirs with a gentle chime. "To making a difference," he added.

Rhys looked at his friends -- his brothers -- their faces unflinching. "To the future," he said, his eyes clear and focused. "May it be brighter than we dare to hope."

---

By the time Cassian and Azriel returned to the House of the Wind, the inky night had draped its silent shroud over the building. They expected the grand lobby to be completely deserted at this late hour. Yet, to Cassian's wonder, Nesta was there.

Lost in a world of her own, Nesta walked under the dim glow of the ornate chandelier, her figure casting long, fluid shadows across the polished marble floor. From the way she was dressed, it looked like she was about to go on a late-night run.

It wasn't until Cassian stepped into her space, closing the distance to a mere foot, that she snapped out of her thoughts. Her gaze, sharp and piercing, lifted to meet his and then to Azriel's. A flicker of surprise darted across her features before she veiled it with a practiced air of indifference.

"Going on another evening run?" Cassian asked her as a way of greeting.

Nesta's response was terse, her lips pursing slightly as she uttered a succinct "Yes." She looked over the both of them again. "Anything happen at the meeting at the River House?"

"You didn't miss much," Azriel responded. "Amren will send out a memo first thing tomorrow."

Cassian studied her for a beat longer, noting the slight clench of her jaw and the way her eyes darted to the lobby doors. An idea sparked in him.

"If you give me ten minutes," he offered, gesturing towards the elevators with a hopeful tilt of his head, "I can join you."

The words hung in the air, a delicate offer. He saw it then -- the imperceptible stiffening of her posture, ready to refuse. So he quickly added, a playful note in his voice, "I know all the good running routes around here."

Nesta hesitated, but her expression wavered. "I would rather run on my own."

"I don't blame you," Azriel teased, unable to stop himself. "Cassian is terrible company."

Cassian scowled at his brother. "It's dark out, Nes," he tried again. "Let me come with you."

Nesta looked away to the pitch-blackness that lay outside the lobby doors, calculating. Although Velaris was generally a very safe city, she had never tried to navigate it in the dead of night. Finally, she looked back at him, her expression unreadable.

"Fine," Nesta acquiesced. "Ten minutes."

She gracefully sidestepped, allowing Cassian and Azriel access to the elevators. She then glided to a nearby sofa, settling into its plush cushions to wait.

Cassian burst into the elevator and jabbed at the buttons for their respective floors, his foot tapping impatiently. Azriel leaned back against the elevator wall, his arms folded casually across his chest, with a mischievous grin on his lips as he observed Cassian's barely veiled agitation.

"Easy there, big guy," he remarked affectionately. "She's not going to disappear."

Cassian shot him a quick, frustrated glance. "I just don't want to keep her waiting longer than necessary," he muttered.

"Oh, is that so?" Azriel's eyebrow arched in amusement. "Or could it be that you're just eager to spend time with her under the starry sky?"

As the elevator finally dinged at Cassian's floor, he practically leaped out. "You don't know what you're talking about, Az," he retorted over his shoulder.

Azriel laughed, shaking his head as the elevator doors slid shut. "Good luck!" he called after Cassian.

---

Cassian led the way, his stride confident and familiar as they ran up the winding road that hugged the contours of the mountain behind the House of the Wind. The path, bathed in the soft glow of well-placed lights, carved a serpentine trail through the dense pine forest and upwards into the heart of the mountainside. A delicate mist had descended, settling into the treetops like cobwebs.

"There's a lookout a few miles up with an amazing view of the city," Cassian said, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet night.

Nesta only nodded, allowing him to set a moderate pace. The scent of pine and earth filled her senses, and she found herself leaning into the night air, into his steadfast strength beside her.

Their heavy breaths, synchronized and rhythmic, filled the silent space between them.

As they ascended, the forest around them began to change. The trees grew taller, their branches interlocking above to create a natural cathedral, their needles whispering secrets. She let all the noise of her mind recede into the thickening mist, let it wrap around her like a soothing embrace.

When they finally reached the lookout, Nesta stopped, her breath labored from the climb, and gazed out at the glittering city below, beyond the mist of the forest, sprawled like a jeweled tapestry, the lights flickering like distant stars caught in an earthly web. The world seemed to pause -- the only sounds were their heartbeats and the distant hum of Velaris.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Cassian turned towards her, his expression soft yet intense. His hazel eyes, reflecting the city's lights, narrowed on Nesta as if she were the only object in this vast, sparkling expanse. "Yes," he breathed.

Nesta could feel the blood rushing through her head. A breeze tousled Cassian's hair, setting it dancing wild under the silver glow of the moon.

"Tell me why you're here," Nesta asked, her words floating on the night air.

He bowed his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me why you left a promising military career to work on a long shot political campaign."

He studied her face intently, sensing the urgency in her question. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Because I care about who gets to be in the room where it happens," he finally said.

Nesta's brow furrowed, her eyes searching his for more.

"I was a good soldier," Cassian continued. "But in the military, I was a cog in the machine. Being on the ground, seeing the consequences of following orders... it changes you."

He paused, his gaze growing distant. Cassian remembered his lover during the war -- Tanwyn, with a smile like a storm, who was a surgeon with Doctors Without Borders. She chose to work at a hospital in the middle of a conflict zone and chose to stay even when the town came under siege. After the bombing started, Cassian disputed his commander's decision to engage the enemy so close to a civilian-occupied area. When that went nowhere, he had begged, begged her to get to safety. But Tanwyn had refused, "I didn't go through 14 years of medical training to abandon my patients." Her last words to him.

It took Cassian a very long time to get over her death.

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"I've experienced the fallout of strategic miscalculations, witnessed the collateral damage of executive decisions made in far-off offices," Cassian concluded. "No more senseless wars. That's why I'm here."

Nesta listened, absorbing his words. She tried to understand the rollercoaster of emotions that had swept through his face.

"And you think Rhysand Starborn is the right person to be in the room where it happens?"

Cassian gave her a wry grin. "Funny you should ask."

"Why?"

He dismissed the moment with a shake of his head.

When he faced her again, Cassian's expression was one of unwavering conviction. "I am certain he is the right person for the job."

Nesta took a long moment to study him, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the gentle curves of his lips -- the lines crinkling around his eyes seemed to tell stories of bravery and compassion.

"Okay," she said at last, as though settling an internal debate.

"Okay?"

Nesta nodded, this time with a certainty that seemed to anchor her. "Yes, okay," she repeated, giving him an assured smile.

They stood together for a moment longer, time seemingly stretching out as they surveyed the panoramic view of Velaris. The night breeze caressed Nesta's skin and sent a shiver down her spine as her body cooled from their earlier ascent to the overlook.

"Shall we head back?" she suggested, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself for warmth.

Cassian agreed with a dip of his chin, but his curiosity piqued. "These evening runs of yours, are they a regular thing?"

Nesta hesitated, her words tangling slightly. "Yes -- no, well, sort of. I'm actually training for the National Women's Half Marathon," she clarified. "I've committed to running it with some friends."

"If you want, I could help -- I could train with you."

Nesta mulled over his offer again, the sincerity in his voice apparent. "That might be nice," she said, giving in to the tug in her heart. "I'll let you know when I'm planning my next run."

Cassian's answering smile was so bright, so full of warmth, that Nesta felt momentarily dazed -- a radiance that rivaled the moon above.

"Come on then." He turned from the outlook, and Nesta followed, falling into step beside him as they began their descent.

---

Nesta inhaled deeply, trying to stifle the swell of emotions in her chest. She stood on the meticulously groomed lawns of the River House, where Feyre was hosting a luncheon for the League of Women Voters of Velaris.

In front of her, the Starborn's grand conservatory was bustling with guests -- their conversations a steady buzz against the clinking of fine china. The large glass structure was situated in the back of the house, hidden from view from the street. Sunlight poured in through the expansive glass panels, bathing the interior space in a golden, dappled light. The conservatory itself was an oasis of botanical beauty, brimming with an array of vibrant flowers and delicate greenery. Nesta knew immediately that Elain must love it here.

Feyre weaved through the crowd with grace and charm, playing the part of hostess perfectly, but Nesta knew her sister was still adjusting to the relentless glare of the public eye. That was why she agreed to drop into the luncheon to make sure that the reporter the local paper sent to cover the event was on their best behavior.

Nesta had never been to the River House before. Every Christmas, a perfunctory invitation to visit from Feyre would arrive, and each time, Nesta found a convenient excuse to decline, preferring to maintain a distance from the life that Feyre had carved out for herself. Standing before the River House, with its stately charm and the Sidra flowing majestically in the background, Nesta couldn't help but feel a pang of regret mingled with a deep urge to flee.

When Feyre's eyes found hers through the glass panels, Feyre's relief was evident as she beckoned Nesta inside.

"I'm so glad you're here," Feyre murmured.

Nesta, feeling a rare surge of sisterly affection, reached out and gave Feyre's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing great," she offered, her voice softer than usual.

Feyre's smile wavered. "I've been so nervous about this event," she confessed. "And talking to that reporter later. I've never done any press without Rhys before."

"I've already vetted the interview questions. There won't be any curveballs," Nesta reassured her. "It's a simple society piece for the local paper, nothing too intense. Just steer clear of any policy talk. You'll be fine."

Feyre bit her lip. "Can you stay until after I talk to the reporter?"

"Of course, I'll stay."

With a nod of gratitude, Feyre turned and glided gracefully back to mingling with her guests.

Left to herself, Nesta pulled out her phone to go through the emails that inevitably crowd her inbox. She glanced around and noticed a large door that led into the quieter recesses of the River House. The luncheon was in full swing, but she couldn't find it in herself to work the room the way Feyre or Rhys would.

Nesta crossed the threshold, finding herself in a peaceful hallway. She took in the grand space around her: the high ceiling, intricate moldings, and silk curtains framing the windows. As she looked down the corridor, her eyes followed the row of oil paintings lining the walls. Something about them seemed deeply familiar -- the impressionistic brushwork and open, airy compositions bore the unmistakable touch of Feyre's hand.

Nesta made her way down the hallway, her steps soft and nearly silent on the plush carpet, looking for a quiet space away from the party to focus on her inbox. Eventually, she found herself in a cozy sitting room, its wide walls lined with books.

Her eyes immediately fell to the shelves full of framed photographs. Nesta stepped closer to study the pictures.

There were several of Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian together, chronicling different chapters of their lives -- from their college days to their military service to ski trips that appeared suspiciously like snowball fights.

In each image, Cassian's smile was wide and unrestrained, his arms invariably slung around his brothers, his hair noticeably longer in his younger years. Azriel, by contrast, looked stern, though his eyes were warm. Rhys appeared relaxed and completely at ease among his friends and family -- a side of him she had never witnessed.

There were photos of Mor exuding her usual glamour and confidence. In one snapshot, Mor stood between Azriel and Cassian. They were dressed to the nines. Azriel looked at Mor with something like total adoration on his face, while Mor was laughing with her head thrown back, leaning into Cassian. But Cassian was grinning at the camera.

An old photograph tucked in the back was of the Starborns -- Rhys's father and mother. Beside it was a portrait of Rhys's mother sitting by the fire on what looked like Christmas morning.

Then Nesta recognized an image that must have been taken the night Rhys had first won his congressional seat -- even Amren was smiling in that one. Feyre, joyous, was in the middle of leaning into a hug from Rhys. He looked only at Feyre even as the dozen faces in the photos were turned towards him.

Scattered in between the memories of their "inner circle" were many photos chronicling Nyx's young life -- a teary-eyed Rhys holding an ultrasound with Feyre behind him; a portrait of Feyre with a swollen belly; Feyre holding Nyx for the first time on a hospital bed with Rhys next to her; Rhys lifting a toddler Nyx into the air. There was a blurry image of Nyx at his third birthday party, white frosting all over his face, with Cassian and Mor fussing over him and Azriel standing to the side laughing, clumps of frosting in his dark hair.

The most recent photo was one of Elain and Nyx together, surrounded by flowers in a field.

Nesta felt her pulse quicken in dread. These photographs were windows into the vibrant life Feyre had lived, yet, Nesta found no trace of herself in these frozen moments.

Finally, she noticed a large photo in a corner -- Feyre was wearing a simple white slip-dress, her arms interlocked with Rhys, dashing in a blue linen suit. They were standing barefoot on a beach, waves crashing behind them. Feyre held a large bouquet of hydrangeas and roses in her other hand. Surrounding the smiling couple on either side were Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and Amren. They were all beaming, although Mor had clearly been crying. It was plainly a wedding photo.

It suddenly struck Nesta that there were no images from the grand Velrais wedding at the House of the Wind. Rather just another portrait of Feyre and Rhys -- taken on the same day on the beach -- looking adoringly at each other. Their hands were joined, prominently displaying their golden wedding bands.

Nesta realized that she hadn’t encountered Cassian, Azriel, or Mor at the ceremony she attended. She was certain she would have remembered someone like Cassian with his distinct presence. The Velaris wedding was a formal event attended by hundreds of guests, a high-society wedding. But the pictures on the shelf displayed a private, intimate celebration for only those closest to the couple.

She didn't know how much time had passed as she stood there, taking in the evidence of the chasm that had grown between her and her sister. The pictures showcased a version of Feyre's life that Nesta had never been part of, a narrative woven from experiences and bonds she hadn’t shared.

Nesta felt like a stranger looking in, witnessing a parallel world where laughter and joy flowed freely, a stark contrast to the guardedness that marked her own interactions with Feyre.

"Aunt Nesta!" A child's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Nesta turned swiftly at the call. "Nyx?" she asked in surprise, her eyes landing on her young nephew. His round cheeks were just visible as he peered around the edge of a nearby armchair.

"Hi Nesta." Elain emerged behind him with Mr. Carrot in tow.

Nesta felt every muscle in her body tense. "Hi Elain," she returned, keeping her voice neutral.

"Feyre mentioned you might drop by today." Elain smoothed her skirts, almost nervous, but smiled tentatively. "I hear things are going well with the campaign."

Nesta bristled at the comments. She hated that her sisters seemed to treat her like a problem to be handled -- managed.

"The campaign is going as expected," she replied curtly.

Elain hesitated, her lips parting as if to say more, but her gaze shifted to Nyx. "Are you hungry, dear?" she asked him softly.

Nyx, his attention still fixed on Nesta, shook his head, his curiosity about his aunt undiminished.

Feeling the need to escape the conversation, Nesta made a move to leave. "I should get back to -- "

"Nesta, wait," Elain interjected quickly, her expression turning earnest. "Won't you stay for tea? It's been a while since we all sat down together." Her hand dropped to rest on Nyx's shoulder. "We really should catch up."

Nesta's eyes swept the room -- this house with its layers of memories, the shelves lined with snapshots that narrated a life where everyone was content, perhaps even better off, in her absence.

With a dry chuckle, Nesta gestured at their surroundings. "I think I'm all caught up, thanks."

Elain's expression faltered. "Nesta, that's not fair," she said as a flicker of hurt crossed her features. “I’m sorry I never got around to returning your calls. But -- ”

Nesta's gaze hardened. "Are you?" she countered, her voice low but sharp. "Everyone here seems quite happy have their entire lives subsumed by Rhysand Starborn."

Elain frowned. "Please Nesta, it's not like that," she began, but Nesta cut her off.

"I can't have this conversation right now." Nesta turned towards the hallway, her movements brisk.

She needed space, air -- something to clear the tightness building in her chest.

"Where is Aunt Nesta going?" She heard Nyx ask behind her.

But Nesta didn't stop. She looked for the nearest exit -- a pair of French doors that took her back onto the house's sweeping lawns.

She walked towards the water's edge, taking in the midday light, calming her thundering heart. She did not understand herself, why she couldn't bear the hurt in Elain's eyes, why she always felt the need to retreat into herself whenever her sisters were around.

---

Eventually, Nesta took the long way around the grounds of the River House, back towards the conservatory. Feyre was already speaking with a young female reporter when Nesta found them sitting on a pair of Adirondack chairs on the crest of a gentle hill overlooking the Sidra.

She gave them some space as they finished the interview.

"We corresponded over email earlier," Nesta said as she introduced herself to the reporter, reaching out to shake her outreached hand.

The young woman beamed in recognition. "Ms. Archeron," she said.

"Do you have everything you need?"

The reporter nodded. "It's been an absolute pleasure, Mrs. Starborn," she said to Feyre, putting away her voice recorder.

"Do you mind sending us a copy of the story before it goes to print?" Nesta asked.

The reporter's smile never faltered. "Of course," she replied and picked up her bag. "Someone from the paper may reach out later for fact checking."

"You have my contact information," Nesta answered as the reporter shook Feyre's hand goodbye.

When they were alone, Nesta asked, "How did it go?"

"Fine, I think," Feyre replied, her voice wary. "I am just relieved it's over."

"Don't worry," Nesta said. "We'll get a chance to correct the article before it comes out."

Feyre reclined in her chair. "Can you sit with me for a while?"

Nesta flinched. "Feyre," she answered, feeling the tightness building in her chest again. "I have to get back to work."

Feyre looked up at her, her blue-gray eyes shuttered. "Oh," she breathed. "Of course. Sorry to keep you," her voice turning oddly formal, "Thank you for coming today."

---

Nesta threw herself into her work for the rest of the afternoon, finding a quiet refuge in the familiar demands of her tasks. By the time she returned to the House of the Wind, the sun was a fiery orb hovering low in the sky. The majestic sight of the House, silhouetted against the orange and pink sky, was strangely comforting. But the solitude that awaited her in her room felt overwhelming -- for the first time that day, she did not want to be alone.

She stopped at the front desk to ask for Cassian's room number. With a kind of new-found courage, Nesta took the elevator to his floor.

Cassian opened the door on her third knock.

"Azriel, I thought --," he began, before his voice trailed off, his eyes widening at the unexpected sight of Nesta standing before him.

"Hey," she said, taking him in. Cassian's crisp white dress shirt was casually half unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of the defined muscles of his chest and the intricate whorls of black tattoos that contrasted against his golden skin.

Cassian quickly recovered from his initial shock. "Nesta, I wasn't expecting you," he said, holding his door open wider. "What can I do you for?"

Nesta immediately felt the knot in her chest loosen at the humor in his voice. His eyes were studying her gently. The corners of her lips twitched upwards.

"Run with me?"

---

---

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Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list.

Tag list: @acourtofladydeath @fwiggle @swifti-ed

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

[ophidion]

the last great american dynasty

part 4: give people light and they will find a way

Fandom: The Rings of Power Fanfiction Pairing: Galadriel / Halbrand | Sauron , Celebrían / Elrond Peredhel Rating: E Chapter: 4 of 5 Word Count: 34,512

read on ao3

a #haladriel political AU where the doom of mandos is the kennedy curse, Rolling Stone is profiling the Herald and the Harbinger, and the Whip disciplines his page. oh and the starcrossed lovers' affair gets exposed.

#haladriel #haladriel fanfic #haladriel fic #galadriel #halbrand #galadriel x halbrand #rings of power fic #rings of power #sauron x galadriel #sauron #trop #trop fic #political au #kennedy au #flavors of house of cards #celrond #celebrian #elrond #elrond fic #celrond fic #defiling the u.s. capitol #politics as religion #absolute filth #70s au #90s au #beginning of fandom fusion (eyes emoji) #i write

[busdriver-55]

Political AU

Nevertheless, She Persisted by dawninthemtn: Junior campaign staffer Rey works for US presidential candidate Leia Organa and ends up with the job of babysitting her aloof and entitled adult son Ben.

i’m winning so they had to dump the gatorade (i don't give a f*ck about my family name) by @dankobah: Rey and Ben are forced into a political marriage to get publicity for Ben's mother, Leia Organa, in her presidential campaign. They hate each other, until they don't.

Our Only Hope by MadsMakesMagic: Rey Organa lived her childhood in private, hidden from the world she traveled the world while her mother Senator Leia Organa fought for Climate Change and against Big Oil. After attending Cambridge with her best friends Finn and Poe, Rey heads back to New York to join her mother's campaign for The Only Hope Act. Ben Solo grew up with his grandfather, going to boarding school his only escape was his motorcycle and a good blunt. After an Ivy League education, Ben is sent to get information on a very worldly girl named Rey. Ben has anxiety and Rey isn't ready for the spotlight. What could go wrong? *Rey and Ben are NOT siblings in this fic*

Love It If We Made It by @xoruffitup: Sometimes he’ll text just a hotel name and room number. Sometimes they’ll catch each other’s eyes across a crowded room full of ambitious, superficial cutthroats. Now and then, she’ll text a bar name for drinks. Sometimes it scares them both, to think how they got here. Then they’ll think about morning, about the world outside the window, and just hold each other for one meager minute more. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, nothing does anymore. The only refuge to be found lies in the kind of loss of control that feels good; feels right. That doesn’t need ideology or investigation or twisted intelligence. It’s a simple sublime truth, and means everything.

when you are young (they assume you know nothing) by @dankobah: a political, star-crossed lovers AU (with an age-gap)

screwdriver by somethingdifferent: Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible.

If Not Us by @theafterglow-writes: 1964 Senator Ben Solo is campaigning for office. In order to be one president, he needs to marry. Enter Rey - a journalist.

#reylo #reylo fic rec #fanfic recs #political au #modern au #fanfic #ff recs

[buckets-and-trees]

What's an AU you want to explore, but haven't yet?

Have I asked you this before? Sorry if I have. ❤️

I don't think you've asked this before, and even if you had,

What a harmless little ask... I thought to myself when I first opened it, because... I've written a lot of the AUs I've wanted to, created some AUs I never would have considered like Buck’s Eleven, the Gamer AU (Perfectionists), or Minotaur Bucky (Sacrificial) and Pleasure!Dom Bucky (Talk), and I've got mafia and mobster stuff, omegaverse that I have started and things I'm working on for the fall, royal AU, and the Great Bucky Bake Off... I did answer an ask about if there are other creature Bucky possibilities I'd consider, and I would do an Incubus or Demon if I had the right storyline, but like... I'm good!

I was thinking either I've written it, have plans to write it, would NEVER write it (there are some AUs that are Not My Thing), or it's an AU that just has never even crossed my mind, so it couldn't then exist on a potential want to explore list.

And then...

then.

Then my stupid brain went, but there HAS to be something I just haven't thought of but would totally read or write.

And I remembered that one of my all-time favorite shows is The West Wing and one of my recent new favorites is The Diplomat and maybe a political AU (modern, non-powered) with Steve as a presidential candidate with Tony Stark as his VP running mate (lots of money and a transitioned from industry to politics) and Bucky as Steve's campaign manager and future chief of staff, Pepper as Tony's, and a myriad of other MCU characters able to fall into place around them...

So.

Now there's that lurking in my head.

Navy.

Hmph.

#aspen's extended anniversary sleepover #late night secrets #navy/navybrat817 #the best menace of all the menaces #political au