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caesium-55 · 9 months ago

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—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #manager!reader #fluff #formula one #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x reader

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winchesterprincessbride · 8 years ago

Text

Political Animals-Part 11

This is an A/B/O AU. You are the Omega artist daughter of Naomi Novak, a world-class heart surgeon who is running for Mayor of New York City. After a meeting where your mother’s advisers call you a “liability”, she tells you that if you don’t do as your told she will cut you off. You storm out and wind up in a bar a few blocks away.

The hottest Alpha you have EVER laid eyes on with a scent so mouthwatering you’re practically drooling offers to buy you a drink. It’s just a drink, right? What do you have to lose? Only everything.

Characters: Omega! Reader, Beta! Naomi Novak, Alpha! Castiel Novak, Omega! Meg Novak, Claire Novak, Jimmy Novak, Alpha! Sam Winchester, Alpha! Dean Winchester, Alpha! John Winchester, Omega! Jo Harvelle

Big thanks to @moansmisha for letting me use some of her ideas from this post.

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Parts in bold are text messages

Our lives became very difficult after the press found out about Sam and me. The paparazzi hounded us everywhere we went. Just as Sam had predicted, the election ceased being about our parents and we suddenly became the topic of conversation.

Of course, my mother used the free publicity to her advantage. She released a statement saying she was totally devastated that her dearest daughter had allowed herself to be taken advantage of by such an unscrupulous Alpha as Sam Winchester. And that she hid my Omega status for my protection.

“This is complete and utter bullshit.” I snapped, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. “I’ve never been her dearest anything, and she hid my being an Omega because those PR assholes told her to.”

“You need to calm down, Babe. All this stress isn’t good for you or the babies.” Sam said gently, his large hand caressing my belly.

I had been forced to take a leave of absence from the gallery. As soon as I started to show, the press was everywhere. Julian, my friend who owned the gallery felt awful about it, but I understood.

John was constantly being asked questions about our relationship, and he always gave the same answer. “My son is an adult. His relationship has nothing to do with my campaign. Moving on…..”

One extremely stupid reporter had tried to ambush/interview Dean at the garage, and Dean went nuclear on him. He won’t be making that mistake again.They had even shown up at Cas and Meg’s house, and Cas’ practice, and scared a bunch of his young patients. I felt terrible.

Sam’s firm has been forced to hire outside security to keep people out. Lucky for us Sam is one of the firm’s top earners so they haven’t even complained about the expense.

With the complete uproar in our lives, I had stuffed the envelope of pictures and the creepy note in a drawer and totally forgotten to mention it to Sam, he already had enough stuff to deal with. I thought maybe they were from the same person who had tried to blackmail my mother and John. But then he sent another even creepier package, and Sam got to it first.

I was making dinner and Sam was going through the week’s accumulated mail when I heard his sharp intake of breath and then he cursed.

“Do you want to tell me just what the fuck this is, Omega?”

Sam rarely used that tone with me, so I knew he meant business. I immediately turned the chicken off and moved it to the back burner. I dried my hands on a towel and joined him at the table. He had opened a manilla envelope that was mixed in with stuff from his office.

It was a strange mix of items. This time the folded piece of paper read: YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE.

As I flipped through each item, the tight feeling in my chest got worse. There was a picture of me as a child swinging at the playground in Central Park. My father had been pushing me, but my father’s image had been burned from the picture.

Sam’s long fingers moved over the faded newspaper article. It was from the New York Times heralding my mother’s first artificial heart transplant while she was teaching at NYU. She was pictured with some of her surgical team. Over my mother’s image was written LYING WHORE.

I felt sick when I saw the pamphlet from one of my shows at the gallery. On the back under my mini-biography was written my birth date, underlined several times. There was also one of our professionally-done family Christmas cards this one during my awkward adolescence, complete with glasses and braces, but my father’s face had been gouged out with something sharp.

“I need to show you something, Sam. I’ll be right back.”

Sam raised his eyebrow when I handed him the other envelope. I saw his jaw clench when he got to the pictures of us together, and I knew he was trying to stay calm.

“Before you start yelling, this came the day the press showed up on our doorstep. I thought it was someone trying to blackmail us so I blew it off.” I said defensively.

Sam scrubbed his hand over his face. He suddenly looked very tired and very worried. “We need to show this stuff to my Dad, Y/N. I want to see what he thinks. In the meantime, I don’t want you to go anywhere alone. I think you have a stalker.” He stood behind me and put his arms around me. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

“I’m supposed to have lunch with Cas tomorrow. What should I do?“

“I’m gonna call your brother and bring him up to speed on what’s going on. Then I’m going to call my Dad. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He gathered everything and took it with him, closing the door behind him.

By the time Sam was finished I had dinner ready and waiting. “Cas will pick you up here and bring you back afterward. We are having dinner with Dad and Dean tomorrow to discuss this, okay?”

That night Sam held me close and rubbed my already-swelling belly. “So what kind of wedding do you think you want? Something big and fancy?”

“No! I’ve had enough big and fancy crap with my mother to last me a lifetime. I think I’d like just us. And maybe your Dad, Dean, and Cas. And a party later when I am not so rotund.”

Sam tucked his head into the curve of my neck where he had marked me. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. ” You are beautiful, ‘mega. My Dad is golf buddies with the Mayor. Did you know he can marry people? And by the way…. Your belly full of my pups is just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.“ He growled, his voice doing all kinds of things to me.

“So you want to marry me now before I need a crane to get me out of bed, is that what your telling me?” I teased, pressing my lips to his.

“Woman, if you had any idea how freaking amazing you smell when you are pregnant……” Sam groaned.

“I bet I taste even better,” I whispered seductively.

Later Sam agreed I did.

The next day, a solemn Cas came to get me for lunch. I could tell he was worried. “Sam told me about the stuff in the mail.” He said once we were in the car. “Why would anyone target you specifically?” He asked me.

“I haven’t told Sam this yet, but I think it has something to do with Mom.”

Cas was concentrating on driving, but I could tell he was surprised. “Mom? Why do you say that, Y/N?”

I took a deep breath. “There is something I haven’t told you, Castiel.”

He guided the car to the side of the road and stopped. “You’re making me nervous. You only call me Castiel when you’re in trouble.”

“Remember the day Mom and I had our last big fight?” I asked.

“How could I forget? My ears are still ringing.” He joked.

“Mom told me that day that Charles Novak wasn’t my real father. That she’d had an affair with one of her med students when she was at NYU. Dad found out and threatened her with never seeing you again if she didn’t break it off, so she told me anyway.

Cas was silent for a long moment. “Do you believe her?” He asked.

“I don’t know. She told me he died a year later. But Mom said the reason she hates me is that every time she looks at me I remind her of what she gave up. She also lied to me about my trust, Cas She never had control over it, Dad made sure of that. I had full control when I turned 21.”

Cas looked shocked. “I don’t know what to say. She always told me she controlled your trust. I never questioned her.”

“There isn’t anything TO say. I don’t think she and I can come back from this. Not this time. I just needed you to understand why.” A tear slipped unbidden down my cheek.

He nodded solemnly. “I do, Sis. I am so sorry for everything she has put you through.”

After lunch, Cas drove me home and deposited me in Sam’s arms. “Please keep me informed.” He said to Sam before leaving. Sam promised he would.

Lunch with Cas had tired me out, so I took a nap before we went over to John’s. It was rare that he had a night off from campaigning, and I felt bad that he had to entertain us. Jo wasn’t able to be there until later so it was just me and the three Winchester men.

John promised to speak to the Mayor during their Friday golf game about marrying us before he effortlessly slipped back into detective mode. “Is there anyone you can think of who would have a grudge against you, Y/N?” he asked me.

“What? No!” I said adamantly.

“It seems like this person wants her to know he can get to her no matter what,” Dean commented, flipping through the pictures.

“So the envelope of pictures came first?” John asked.

“Yes, but I saw it second because Y/N didn’t tell me about it until later,” Sam commented.

“And this other stuff, what is the connecting thread?” John asked out loud.

I turned to Sam. “I think this has to do with my mother, Sam.”

“Why do you say that, Y/N?” Dean asked.

“My Mom told me recently that Charles Novak wasn’t my real father. I didn’t believe her, I still don’t know if I do, but I think this person is someone from my mother’s past.”

I told them word for word everything my Mom had told me. “I don’t know if any of it is true. My mother consistently lies to me.”

Jo breezed in at that moment from work, all smiles and full of excited chatter at my rounded belly. I needed to talk about something else for a while so I turned to Sam. “Your pups want gelato! Can we walk down to Caruso’s and get some?”

Jo clapped her hands happily. There is a boutique on the way that has the cutest baby stuff! Let’s go look!”

John begged off, saying he had work to do, so the four of us went. Dean was more interested in the gelato than the baby stuff, but he was being a good boyfriend. He casually mentioned he hoped he had two boys so he could teach them about cars and be the “cool uncle”.

The boutique had some really neat things. In the back of the store was a race car bed, and Dean began arguing with Sam over why his son needed a race-car bed. Jo went back to intervene.

I was toward the front of the store looking at a hand-painted piggy bank when I felt a chill down my spine and I looked up. There standing on the curb was a man in a black coat. His eyes were slightly manic. He held up a sign. It said in block letters THEY HAVE BEEN KEEPING ME FROM YOU. Then he turned and crossed the street, disappearing into the throng of people.

“No, wait!” I yelled.

I dropped the bank I was holding and bolted for the door, desperate to catch up with the guy with the sign. It was him. I just knew it! The bank shattered on impact but I kept going.

Sam was already moving in my direction as soon as I spoke, Dean a second later. Jo threw some money at the cashier for the bank. I could just catch a glimpse of the man hurrying through the crowd on the other side of the street. I quickly stepped off the curb and dashed in the street to try and catch him.

I was so intent on not losing sight of the man I never even saw the car. The last thing I heard was Sam scream my name, “Y/N look out!” Then I felt a jolt and pain and everything went black.

Part 12

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winchesterprincessbride · 8 years ago

Text

Political Animals-Part 7

This is an A/B/O AU. You are the Omega artist daughter of Naomi Novak, a world-class heart surgeon who is running for Mayor of New York City. After a meeting where your mother’s advisors call you a “liability”, she tells you that if you don’t do as your told she will cut you off. You storm out and wind up in a bar a few blocks away.

Big thanks to @moansmisha for letting me use some of her ideas from this post.

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Parts in bold are text messages

“Hi Cas. It’s me.”

“Y/N? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick! I was going to come over but Meg told me the last thing you needed during your heat was me in your face.” Cas said as soon as he heard my voice. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Sam?”

“It all happened so suddenly, Cas. So how did Mom find out? Do I even want to ask how she took the news?” I asked tentatively.

“Mad doesn’t begin to cover it. You need to go see her, Y/N.” Cas said urgently.

I sighed, the burden of everything suddenly weighing me down. “Tell Mom I will be over in a bit.”

“I love you no matter what happens, you know that, right?” Cas whispered.

“I never doubted it for a second. Love you too, Bro. I’ll see you soon.” I said as I ended the call.

Sam wiped my tears away gently with the pad of his thumb. “I’m glad they know, Y/N. I don’t want to sneak around anymore. I want people to know your mine.”

“I love you, Sam.” I said as I pressed a kiss on his hand. “I think it’s high time my mother and I had a chat, don’t you?”

My heart was pounding as I stood at the door of my mother’s townhouse. Sam stood behind me, his arm around my waist protectively. I had thought I would be visiting my mother alone, but Sam told me in no uncertain terms either he went, or I didn’t.

“I mean it, Omega. We go together or not at all.” He’d told me firmly, the Alpha in him roaring to the surface.

The door opened, and Cas stood there. For a minute the two Alphas eyed each other, sizing each other up. Then Cas made the first move. He held out his hand for Sam to shake. As they shook hands, Cas eyed the claim mark on my neck. “You hurt her, Winchester, and I will kill you.” He growled.

“I love her, Dr. Novak. I will protect her with my life.” Sam said sincerely. Cas seemed satisfied with this. He nodded and moved away from the door to let us enter.

My mother was in her study, flanked by her ever-present campaign manager and the younger guy from her PR team

“Mother, this is Sam Winchester….my….my Alpha.” I told her, head held high.

She rose from her chair, lips pursed, eyeing the mark on my neck. “So he’s claimed you, I see.” She finally commented.

“Yes.” I said simply.

“You stupid, stupid girl! You’ve ruined everything!” She snapped, her hand whipping out and slapping me hard across the face.

Sam yanked me back towards him angrily as Cas grabbed her arm. “If you touch her again this will be the last time you will ever see her.” Sam said furiously.

“Or me.” Cas said angrily. “I am done. I can’t stand by and watch you treat my sister this way any more.” This earned him a dirty look from my mother.

Gary her campaign manager thrust a large manilla envelope into my hand. “We received this two days ago along with a demand for $100,000. If we don’t pay, they will be released to the press, and our campaign is dead in the water.”

I opened the envelope, and in it were dozens of pictures of Sam and me together. Someone had clearly been watching me for weeks. I gave a humorless laugh. “So this is about blackmail? You can’t pay the money. If Sam and I go public with our relationship, then these photos are worthless. Have a press conference…..Do whatever. I am done hiding.” I said to her.

“And say what?” My mother said bitterly. “That my “Beta” daughter is really an Omega, and she is having an affair with my opponent’s son? My credibility will be ruined.”

I looked at her in disbelief. “Why is everything always about you? Do you care even a little bit about my happiness?”

“We’ve done nothing wrong. She’s mine, I’ve claimed her as my mate. This isn’t just “an affair”, I am in love with your daughter. She could be carrying my pup as we speak. This has nothing to do with you or my father.” Sam said stiffly.

Can I speak to my mother alone?” I asked suddenly. Cas and Sam both looked at my warily.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Sam asked.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. I just need a minute. Can you all please give us the room?”

I could tell by Sam and Cas’ tense posture that neither of them liked this idea. “I will be right outside the door, Y/N. Call if you need me.” Sam told me as he left the room reluctantly, Cas trailing in his wake.

“Go.” My mother said curtly to Gary and the PR guy, whose name I STILL didn’t know. They walked out stiffly, neither looking pleased.

I stared at my mom a minute before speaking. “What would you have me do here, Mom? Give up the man I love so you can win a stupid election? I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the person you wanted me to be, and it’s never good enough…….I’m never good enough. Well I’m done.”

“If you do this, I no longer have a daughter. I am cutting you off.” My mother said harshly.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered. “Why am I never enough?”

“You are just like him. So stubborn, so determined to get your way. Every time I look at you I see him.”

I sighed in annoyance. “I can’t help that I take after Dad.”

She snorted in derision. “I don’t mean Charles. I mean your REAL father, Y/N.”

“What are you talking about?” My face was a mask of shock.

“It’s time you knew the truth. When Cas was four, I accepted a position as an adjunct professor at NYU. That’s where I met your father. He was one of my med students. We fell in love. He wanted me to leave Charles and marry him.” I could see the pain in my mother’s eyes.

“So why didn’t you?” I asked.

“When I got pregnant, Charles knew it wasn’t his. Our marriage was already strained. He told me I could leave, but I would never see my son again. He had his parent’s money…..I could have lost my medical license. So I broke things off, and Charles raised you as his own.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked.

“You think I hate you, but the truth is every time I look at you I am reminded of what I gave up, and my heart breaks all over again.” Her face was a mask of stone.

“So Dad’s been gone for years. Why didn’t you track him down?” I had to know.

“He was killed in a car crash the next year. He never even knew about you. But I learned a hard lesson. Love makes you weak. And I will never be weak again.”

My mother stood up. “ I am washing my hands of you once and for all. Don’t come crying to me a few years from now when you realize you made a mistake.” She finished speaking, her mouth set in a grim line.

I finally saw my mother for what she was…..A cold, hard woman who let the memory of her lost love eat away at her until she was nothing but an empty shell. “You are on your own if you do this, Y/N.”

She didn’t know it, but she had just given me a precious gift…. My freedom.

“I’ve been on my own my entire life, Mom.” I told her sadly. “I just didn’t see it until now.”

I turned away from her, and headed for the door. She had no power over me anymore. “Goodbye, Mother.” I whispered. I walked out without a backward glance.

Sam and Cas were talking in low voices when I came out of the room. “Are you okay, SIs? You were in there a long time. I thought I was going to have to physically restrain Sam. He was ready to break the door down.” Cas smiled.

“I am good, Cas. Better than I have been in a long time.” I turned to Sam. “We are done here.”

I heard the sound of breaking glass as my mother threw something at the door in a fit of rage. Cas’ head whipped around, and he grimaced. “Sounds like your talk went well.”

“You should go deal with her. I’ll call you later, okay?” I told my brother. Cas nodded silently and headed toward the study.

Sam smiled at me and held out his hand. “How do you feel about meeting my father and Dean?” He asked me.

Part 8

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