#jack x mila | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovecla · 3 months ago

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EAT YOU LIKE A PREY ; luke hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, single chapter:

— pair: luke hughes x fmc (mila)

— synopsis: after finding out that her friend, the shy, cute luke hughes has a crush on her, mila decides that she will do anything to make him confess his feelings for her out loud. but what do people say about biting more than you can chew?

— word count: 4.3k

— chapter warnings: lowkey mean softdom!luke, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, size kink and degradation if you dig deep, p in v, fingering, squirting (not super detailed tho), edging, pet names, drinking (just a shot but,) dacryphilia.

from me to you: happy halloween, my loves 🤍 i have a few things to say today so buckle up. 1st of all, thank u so much for 400 followers and 10k likes! this means so much to me, and it’s not about the numbers but about people liking what i write— something that not even i do sometimes. 2nd, thank u all for all the compliments on my smut writing heheh i’m really trying to improve my skills so whenever u guys compliment me i’m like ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა so thank u again. 3rd and last, this is just a single chapter but TM(HTMHC) chapter 5 is already in the making 🤍 this is a lot different from what i’m used to write but i hope it’s still good? lmk what u think 🐰

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LUKE HUGHES was the sweetest, most adorable guy you have ever met.

Falling for him wasn’t anything out of this world, you were just another person to fall in love with his wholesome personality, and even though you had certain advantages over the other girls— because you knew him personally— you never really did anything.

When Jack told you that Luke had a crush on you— yesterday, literally—, the first thought that came to your mind was: “How?”

He always acted sweet and shy around you, besides treating you with utmost respect and affection. He takes care of you whenever you need, he knows your favorite drinks and your favorite TV shows, knows that when you’re bored you like to watch Disney Channel’s cringe ass shows just to laugh at the actors’ lines.

So him, having a crush on you, wasn’t at all that much of a surprise.

The fact that he hadn’t done anything about it, though? Yeah. That was a big, unexpected surprise.

Now it was Thursday, and while you got ready in your room, and waited for your best friend, Suzy, to pick you up, you thought of ways of making Luke want to confess to you.

You wouldn’t be the one doing it first, no. You had too much pride for that, and with every reason. You were gorgeous, you didn’t need anyone to tell you that. You could say that you’re too much of a princess and you don’t like to run after boys, but in reality, it was just that all of the men you had relations with were just a bunch of assholes.

They wanted you to be the first to make a move, they wanted you to decide where you would have dinner, or what movie you would watch. And that just doesn’t work for you, at least not anymore. You want them to work for getting you, not the other way around.

But with Luke, things were different. You can’t just know that Luke Hughes has a crush on you and not do anything. So you would have to be smart, and make him want to tell you how he feels, without asking him to.

Is this some way of gaslighting?, you ask yourself, applying some more blush to your face, I don’t know. But it has to be done, I guess.

Suzy didn’t take long to get to your house, and you got inside her car, complementing her Snow White costume. Now, you’re even more glad that you spent hours trying to choose the perfect costume for Mercer’s party. Usually, you’d go for something that showed less skin and was more scary than slutty, but something told you that this year you needed a change; and if that change was shortening your skirt and wearing a corset that squeeze your tits and push them up higher, then so be it.

𖧷

“SOMEONE SHOULD’VE told me that Dawson was planning on throwing his Halloween party at a fucking haunted mansion.”

You laugh, getting out of the car and feeling the cold breeze hit your skin, the sight of the tall, dark house in front of you making you shiver.

The party was happening inside a huge mansion that looks like it had been abandoned for years even though you know it’s all just play pretend. The front of it is highly decorated with skeletons, coffins, trash and signs that read:

“YOUR FINAL STOP,” and “WELCOME TO YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE.”

You thought it was all super funny, while Suzy whined beside you, and held your arm like her life depended on it. Entering the house after showing your ID and giving your name to the security guard at the front door, you saw that the interior is just as decorated as the outside, if not more.

“How much do you think Dawson spent on this?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Suzy started rambling about how he probably spent a lot of money and how there were thousands of people inside the mansion and how you were never going to find Jack or Nico or anyone for that matter because everyone were wearing costumes and makeup and—

“It’ll be fine,” you cut her off, shouting over the loud music. “I mean, are there hundreds of people here? Yes. Will we be able to find them? Very unlikely. But it’s fine, right?”

“I guess?” She cocks her head, her curls going everywhere. “Can we grab something to drink, though? You know I need my daily dose of beer…”

“You’re crazy. But yeah, we can.”

Moving through the sea of bodies, you greeted so many people that your head was starting to get tired. You didn’t even know all of them properly, but since Jack, Quinn and Luke knew so many people, and you were always with them, people said “hi” to you anyway.

Finding the drink section had been like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, and while Suzy grabbed a can of beer, you had a shot of vodka before grabbing a non-alcoholic drink, wanting to be very aware of your actions through the night.

You got back to walking, listening to Suzy’s long complaints about how much time you spent talking with people she didn’t know and how she wanted to dance.

“Fuck, Mila, this is Drake!” She shouts, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the side, where a bunch of people were dancing.

“I was talking to Elliot, you know,” you shout, laughing.

“I don’t care, baby, this fucking song makes me want to go crazy and make out with you!” Suzy throws her arms up, jumping.

“Baby, that’s the alcohol speaking.” You smile, giving up and moving with the beat.

You need to get done, done, done, done at work, come over

We just need to slow the motion

Don't give that away to no one

Long distance, I need you

You danced with Suzy, not letting your mind think of Luke or anything else. Moving your hips was way easier when you didn’t have to worry about anything.

When I see potential I just gotta see it through

If you had a twin, I would still choose you

I don't wanna rush into it, if it's too soon

But I know you need to get done, done, done, done

Suzy’s hands caressed your body, as she goes to the floor, making you smile as she runs her hands through your bare legs, mouthing the lyrics to the song, singing Drake’s verse with a flirty tone. She got up and you turned around, laughing as you grind your ass on her, placing your hands on your knees and moving your hips while she held your waist, playfully.

I spilled all my emotions tonight, I'm sorry

Rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin'

How many more shots until you're rollin'?

While you danced, and while Suzy sang to you and hugged you tight, you felt a weird sensation in your chest. You were constantly getting goosebumps, and the left side of your neck burned. But no matter how much you looked around, you couldn’t find anything weird.

You knew so many people there, you could see Nico, Cole, Matt; and yeah, some of the guys were watching you and Suzy dance but that’s just normal, expected behavior from men.

Until you saw him.

There, standing in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall and holding a typical American red cup, wearing a full black outfit and.

Was that a ghostface mask?

You couldn’t be sure of who was behind the mask, but for some reason, you couldn’t take your eyes off him— and it looked like neither could he. While you ground on Suzy and danced with her, you made eye contact with the mask, feeling the hair on your arm going up; the hotness that before only covered the left side of your neck, was now running down your body, making you feel warm all over.

Which is weird, so weird.

Suddenly, the lights are off, and now everyone’s screaming with excitement and exhilaration, making you jump slightly, trying to find Suzy’s body. Once you do, you shout at her— or at least at what you hope is her ear.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” She yells back, and you can tell that she’s having a lot of fun for someone who was just complaining about how scary the house looked. “This is so fun!”

“It is, yeah,” you reply, as they turn the lights back on, the music somehow louder and the people even more animated.

“We need to dance more and then,” she gets closer, biting her lips. “I’ll find someone to fuck me.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

You laughed before moving your body with the next song again, dancing for what felt like hours, but not as thoughtless as you were before, no. Now all you could think of was the man that stood in the corner of the room and that now wasn’t there anymore, vanished as soon as the lights were on again.

Even if you had already looked around the entire room and you were one hundred percent sure that that man wasn’t there anymore, you could feel his presence around you, making your skin crawl with need.

I’m fucked up. Probably.

𖧷

YOU DON’T know where Suzy is.

Sometime between dancing and drinking, she found someone and disappeared like she had never been here in the first place.

You were tired, and you wanted to go back home, but, unfortunately, Suzy was your ride, so you’d have to wait until she’s done to go back to your apartment.

Of course, you could always call a taxi, or even one of the people you knew, or maybe try to call Jack or even Luke—

Luke. You hadn’t thought about him since you arrived at the party, too worried about having fun to even think of doing anything else.

But he’s not here anyway, you find yourself pouting, standing in the middle of the huge, fancy bathroom and staring at yourself in the mirror. At least I don’t think so.

But Jack had told you that he would be there, and Jack could be many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. So, Luke probably is here, just hiding in a corner, like he usually did, always the shy boy.

Corner. Man. Black outfit. Ghostface.

Right, you take a deep breath. I’ll try to find him. Maybe I’ll manage to kiss him before leaving.

The thought of kissing Luke motivated you to get past the ocean of people, looking for curly hair and thick thighs. It didn’t help that you didn’t know what he was wearing or who he was with, but you were determined.

You walked the entire first floor, feeling your legs burn with how many steps you had already taken, especially after wearing high heels for so many hours. Luke definitely wasn’t there, and you were starting to feel frustrated.

You went up the stairs, regretting almost immediately. Dawson didn’t just decorate the first floor and the outside of the mansion, but the second floor as well. And if you thought the first floor was bad, this was even worse.

It was empty, it looked worse than the fucking Haunted House at Disneyland, and it was creepy as fuck. You started walking down the hallway, looking around while wrapping your arms around your middle, listening to the muffled sounds from downstairs.

Why isn’t anyone up here?

You walk past closed doors, until you stop in front of the only open one. Curious, you get inside the room, finding out that it was some kind of office: a big, dark wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, with an expensive looking chair behind it, and tons of books decorating the bookshelves against the walls.

A couch decorated the corner, and so did a lamp and a coffee table. You were just about to leave and go back to the party when you saw it— there, laying on the couch, the mask from before.

You hold in a gasp, feeling the left side of your neck burning again.

He’s here, he’s here. He’s here and he knows I’m here too.

“Took you long enough, bunny.”

You let out a scream, turning around to face the same man from before, who was now standing right behind you.

“L-Luke,” breathing fast, you mumble his name. “God, you scared me.”

“Sorry. Not my intention.”

He walks inside the room, sitting beside the mask— his mask.

“It… it was you.” You whisper, eyeing his clothes. The exact same outfit the man who watched you dance with Suzy and made you feel hot all over was wearing.

“Me?” He cocks his head, like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

“You,” you nod. “Downstairs. When I was dancing with Suzy.”

He stays quiet, not saying anything to confirm nor deny.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been looking for you for a while now.” You ask, confused.

“You looked like you were having so much fun,” there’s some kind of sarcasm in his tone, but you can’t really tell why. “I didn’t want to ruin your fun, that’s all.”

Usually, you’d just play around and tell him something funny. But you remembered what Jack said, and you also remembered that you had a plan. Make Luke Hughes confess his feelings for you.

Smiling and walking further inside the bedroom, you start your plan.

“You know you could never ruin my fun,” you say. “I missed you.”

He smirks, spreading his thighs on the couch.

“Yeah?” You nod. “I missed you too. You look cute with your little bunny outfit.”

You give him a little twirl, placing your hands on your hips. “D’you like it? I also think it looks great.”

He hums, before getting up, standing in front of you, his 6’2” figure making you feel small, even though you were 5’4” yourself.

“Why were you looking for me, Mila?”

His tone is so different from what you’re used to. He doesn’t sound sweet and adorable anymore, and for some reason, it has you intrigued. His eyes, looking darker with so little lighting in the room, staring down at you.

“I just wanted to see you. ‘Been a while, no?” Sweetening your voice to the max, you blink twice. “Perhaps we could, I don’t know, have some fun?”

His smile only widens at that, and just when you thought you were about to get what you want, his next words make you freeze.

“Do you think I’m dumb?”

You frown at his words, gulping.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper.

“Bunny, bunny,” he clicks his tongue, stepping closer to you. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything—”

“I know Jack talked to you,” he whispers. “He isn’t exactly subtle. And I’ve seen you with boys before. You use those pretty, sweet eyes to make them fall for you, do whatever you want, beg for just a little bite. Am I wrong?”

You bite your lips, holding the hem of your skirt, looking for some kind of support. Luke’s breathy voice makes all of your tiredness leave your body.

“I asked you a question, cutie.”

“No,” you whisper. “You’re not wrong, Luke.”

The smile he gives you is brighter than the moon shining in the sky.

“I know I’m not, baby,” he gets closer, placing his large hand on your waist, on top of your corset. “So, if you want to have some fun with me,” he continues, using the same words you used not even five minutes ago. “It will have to be the way I want it to be, right?”

You nod with your head, scared that he would find out your underwear is slowly getting wetter and wetter.

He gives you a forehead kiss before stepping back, walking towards the door, letting you wonder if he was just being silly and was in fact leaving the room. Which he doesn’t, just closes the door and walks back at you, eyeing you like a wolf would look at a bunny.

Luke kissed you as if he was hungry, thirsty for something he could only get if he stuck your lips together. His hands, warm and large, encircled your waist and pushed you until your back hit the large bookshelf that decorated the wall of the office.

“Fuck,” Luke moans against your mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

You wanted to tell him that you had too, but you didn’t even have time; Luke kissed you again, making you stand on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, messing up the curls that decorated his head.

His mouth moved against yours, his lips sweet and soft, different from the way he kissed you: bruising and desperate, holding you so close that you feared, for a second, that the two of you would become one.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he warns, his green eyes, now a darker shade, looking into yours and showing all the impure thoughts he was having. “I’m gonna fuck you hard against that table, Mila, and I swear to God I won’t stop. So, if you don’t want that, tell me now and I’ll take you home.”

“No,” you say, desperately and shamefully wet. “I need you.”

“I know you do,” he says, his voice full of malice. His hands roam your body, touching only the top of your breasts, not lingering on them for more than a minute.

Then, Luke’s hands find the middle of your legs, and you close your eyes, embarrassed that he would now know how turned on you were.

You can hear Luke’s ragged breathing as he pulls the wet fabric of your panties up, making you moan as the fabric touches your clit, splitting your two outer labia.

“You’re so wet, bunny,” He murmurs against your skin, playing with the thin and—now—soaked fabric of your panties. “I bet I don’t even have to prep you before slamming my dick into you with how sloppy you probably are.”

You moan loudly, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Luke—”

Your speech is cut off when he shoves your panties to the side and thrusts two fingers inside you, thrusting them with urgency and need.

“I knew it,” he chuckles. “So. Fucking. Loose.”

You grip his arm, feeling wetter than you had ever felt in your life. Luke had always been sweet and loving, and you loved that face of his. But this? This is so much better.

Two of his fingers were moving in and out quickly, while his thumb was touching your clit quickly, making you see stars. The wet sounds filled the room and made you close your eyes in shame.

The weight of Luke's body on yours was comfortable and overwhelming at the same time, the height difference only making you feel even more like prey that had just been captured.

“Luke, fuck.”

“It’s a shame that a cute bunny like you has such a dirty mouth,” he makes a tsc sound with his tongue, not once stopping moving his fingers. “Did no one teach you manners?”

You shake your head, moaning loudly and forgetting that the door wasn’t locked, and that there was a party going on downstairs, with hundreds of people who at any moment could open the door and see the obscenity happening in front of them.

“I’m gonna come, Luke, please, I will—”

Tears immediately form in your eyes when Luke suddenly removes his fingers from inside you. “What? Why did you stop?” You sob.

“Because I wanted to.” He simply says, kissing your cheek, the sweetness of his act contrasting with the harshness of his words.

He comes closer again, running both hands behind your thighs, picking you up with ease. Then, he walks towards the table in the middle of the room, stopping in front of it and placing you on the floor gently.

He kisses you again, biting your lips right after.

“Turn around, cutie,” he smiles, before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear, making you sigh.

Luke is big. Like, bigger than any of the guys you’ve been with before, probably thicker too.

“What?” He smirks. “Did the little bunny bite off more than she can chew?”

Gulping, you shake your head. “Y-you’re… big.”

“Mhm,” he shamelessly grabs his cock, stroking the head a few times, spreading the precum all over his length, as you watch with awe, his hand size matching his dick. “Think you can take it?”

Even though your brain screamed for you to run and hide, the unstoppable throbbing between your legs was too hard to ignore.

“Yes, but… even if I can’t,” you tilt your head up, staring at his lustful eyes. “You’ll make me, right?”

“Smart, smart bunny.”

He kisses you again before turning your body around, placing your hands on the table and lifting your skirt. You can feel him removing your panties as he spreads your legs wide with his feet.

He runs his cock over your lips for a few seconds, the wet sounds echoing off the walls of the room, and when he finally enters, it’s like everything you’ve been searching for finally makes sense.

“Holy fuck, Mila,” he groans, resting his torso against your back.

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust before pulling his entire length out of you and putting it back in, thrusting hard and precisely. Your hands grip the wood beneath your fingers tightly, and your eyes meet the back of your head.

You can feel the tears decorating your face, as Luke grips your waist with an incredible force and pushes his cock hard inside you, moaning loudly.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he says, and you bite your lips, holding back a loud moan. “You’re getting my dick so wet.”

“Luke.”

You didn’t care about anything anymore. All you wanted was to cum, and preferably on his fingers.

He seemed to have heard your thoughts, as it didn't take him long to support one of your legs on the table, entering even deeper inside you, hitting places no one had ever hit before. Then, moving his fingers over your engorged clit, he rubbed it mercilessly, your orgasm building faster, since he edged you not even ten minutes ago.

“Luke,” you sob, calling out his name. “I’m gonna come.”

“Are you going to make a mess?”

“I-I don’t know—”

“Then hold it,” he says, as he applies even more pressure on your sensitive nub, slamming his dick deeper onto your g-spot.

“I can’t, I need to—”

“Baby, you’re not the one in charge here,” his voice is soft, gentle and calming— it didn't stop your tears, though. “If you’re not gonna make a mess, then why should I bother letting you come anyway?”

“Please, Luke, please,” you hiccup, feeling some pieces of the wood get under your nails with how hard you were scratching the table.

“Make a mess, Mila. That’s the only way you’re coming tonight.”

You’re dizzy. Your head is empty and you only need to let Luke ruin you, and everything you believe. When you finally reach your peak, you come, wetting his fingers, your thighs and the table, but none of that is enough for the curly haired boy behind you.

He keeps rubbing you, biting your neck, fucking you into pure oblivion, overwhelming you to the max. And when you feel himself pulling away, you shake your head, crying louder and clenching your hole around his dick.

He hisses. “Mila.”

“No,” you cry. “Inside— ah, please.”

“You’ll drive me insane,” he jokes, but there isn't a hint of playfulness in his tone. He keeps slamming inside you, until he finally comes, painting your insides white with his release.

It’s dirty, raw and human. It’s oddly comforting and overwhelming at the same time; it’s maddening.

People have been put in mental institutions for feeling much less than you right now.

“Mila.”

Luke’s voice is far, and as you rest your forehead against the cold wood of the table, you can feel him pulling away from you.

“Bunny?”

You feel his hand on your hair, and you can feel his presence everywhere. Wiping your cheeks, cleaning your thighs with his shirt, putting your underwear back on, pulling your skirt down. You can feel his warm, burning body behind you as he gets you up and rests your back against his toned abs, kissing your neck gently.

“Hey,” he whispers, and you can tell he’s trying so hard not to freak you out. “Mila, baby.”

“‘Gimme a minute,” you whisper, smelling his perfume, a mix of sandalwood and patchouli.

He lets out a quiet laugh, caressing your thigh with the same hands that held you so strongly not even five minutes ago.

“Do you want to sit?”

“I don’t think I can move my legs right now,” You chuckle, and he hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up again, walking you to the couch, laying down with you on top of him. “Feels nice.”

“I know,” he hums back. “Listen, I’m so—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” you ask, closing your eyes. “I wanted this.”

“I wasn’t going to apologize for fucking you,” he laughs, and you feel his chest moving under you. “I was going to apologize for not telling you sooner.”

“Telling me what?”

“That I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he kisses your temple. “I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. I guess I was just scared.”

Now he sounded like the boy you knew.

“Same. I like you too much to screw things up.” You confess, feeling your cheeks burn.

“Well, that’s good to know.”

You snuggle closer to his body, ignoring the wet clothes and the fact that there was a party happening downstairs, and that Suzy was probably looking for you.

But it was fine. You could deal with her tomorrow.

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zepskies · 9 days ago

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Outlander - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won?

AN: Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester!! 🥳 Now, the actual grand finale…

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, blood and violence, angst, fluff, and spice.~

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: One People

Dean straps on his bow and arrow, but first he takes up his gun from his thigh holster. Then he saddles up Mato and climbs up on his back.

The horse is raring to go, and for once he responds to the firmness of Dean’s tone and trusts him enough to obey his commands.

Šóta, Otaktay, and the other men do the same with their horses. Soon, they’re thundering down the hill into the village.

It’s already chaos.

Dean recognizes the blue uniforms of the U.S. Cavalrymen tearing through tipis and shooting with rifles and revolvers. They must’ve tracked Šóta and his men back to the village.

Men and horses are the main targets, but women and children are getting caught in the crossfire. Šóta purposefully knocks his horse into an officer who had his weapon aimed at Misae and her two daughters. Otaktay guides them in the opposite direction, pointing the way to escape into the forest.

Dean rides onward through the village. He and Mato leap over fallen bodies and horses, and Dean shoots at an officer who would’ve shot him first. He has to be careful with his bullets though. He only has two left.

He fights his way to the center, all the while searching for any sight of Mila’s dark hair. It’s almost impossible to see with so many people running and screaming and fighting. But when he hears a familiar voice, Dean cuts to an abrupt stop.

Chief Tahatan rides his horse, white and dappled black. He wields an ax as the horse rears up on his hind legs and lets loose a powerful bray. Just ahead of him is Colonel Sanderson, flanked by Benny and another officer. The Colonel holds a rifle poised in his hands.

“Stop!” Dean shouts.

He rides hard towards the scene. He takes aim with his gun, and he shoots. The bullet clips Sanderson in the shoulder. Yelling in pain, he recoils from the force of the bullet and misses his shot.

Dean’s just not fast enough.

The Colonel’s bullet ricochets off the ground and hits Tahatan’s horse. The animal whinnies and buckles, and he brings Tahatan down along with him, rolling onto his side and crushing the Chief’s legs and most of his torso under the horse’s weight. Dean hears the crunch of bone as the Chief utters a stifled grunt.

Gritting his teeth, Dean brings Mato to a short stop in front of the Chief. Dean aims his gun at the Colonel. By now, the man is clutching his bleeding shoulder and staring at his former captain in disbelief. Benny is maybe a little less shocked to see Dean, but there’s conflict in his eyes—happiness mixed with turmoil.

The other officer is Jack Kline. He recognizes Dean too, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“You…” Sanderson trails. He blinks, his brows furrowing. “Dean Winchester.”

Other officers come to join him, both on their horses and on foot. A few of them have wrangled women and their children, along with a few men. One man is dragging Mila along by the arm, even though she pulls and struggles against his hold. He has a long, jagged cut over one closed eye that streams with blood, and Dean doesn’t have to wonder how it got there. The man holds Mila’s own knife to her throat.

Dean’s heart falls into his stomach as he meets her gaze. Hers is angry, until she finds him. Her brown eyes are relieved and hopeful, but then worried for him. Dean reads it all there. He knows her face as well as he knows his own.

“Now this is what we call an interesting development,” Sanderson says, dragging Dean’s attention back to him.

Dean only feels moderately better when Šóta, Otaktay, Chatan, and a couple of the other men come to flank him on either side. Weaya manages to shuffle away from the officer at her back, just to go to Tahatan. He’s still lying there under his horse, breathing shallowly. Šóta itches to climb down from his horse and go to his father, but he can’t allow Dean to stand on his own.

“Apparently your death has been greatly exaggerated, son,” Sanderson says. He glances at Benny, who wears a grim, guilty frown.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean says, his voice laden with grit. His hand tightens on his raised gun.

Sanderson tsks at him while Jack wraps a rag tightly around his arm to help stem the bleeding. Afterwards, he adjusts his blue jacket and his Stetson.

“Is this really how you’ve been living for all these months? Like a dog, sleeping in the thatch with the fleas,” he remarks as he glances around. But his gaze stops on Mila. His brows crunch together as recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Ah, now I see why,” he says. He reaches for his pistol at his belt and points it at Mila, like it’s merely an extension of his hand. Dean’s jaw clenches. Chatan and Šóta become even more tense; their horses shift in place, picking up on their riders’ unrest. Sanderson notes their reactions, and finally Dean’s too.

“Instead of putting this savage bitch down, you took her for yourself, didn’t you?” Sanderson wonders aloud. His face breaks into amusement, as his deep chuckle echoes in the clearing. “You threw it all away. A promising career, your respect as a man, and even your life. A traitor to your goddamn country. And for what?”

His thumb pulls back the safety on his revolver.

“Enough, you bastard. You deal with me,” Dean tersely demands. He slowly lowers his gun, and his last bullet. “Let her go. Let them all go, and you can have me. Court martial me. Hell, put me in front of a firing squad, or put me down like a dog if that’s what you want… But let them go.”

Mila breaths in sharply. She stares at Dean like she wants to protest.

“Ah, but ya see, I didn’t come here for you,” Sanderson says. Without taking his aim off Mila, his shifts his gaze down to Tahatan, who struggles for every breath. “I’m gonna wash this land clean, from here to the West Coast. However long it takes.”

“Colonel!” an officer calls out. He approaches on a horse, though he leads a man by a rope that ties his wrists behind his back.

Dean’s eyes widen in shock. It’s Cas, and he has Sam as his captive. Sam is dirtier and more disheveled since Dean saw him off not too long ago. He’s lost his hat and his horse, but he doesn’t look afraid when he meets Dean’s gaze, then the assessing Colonel.

“Mr. Winchester. I should’ve known,” Sanderson says dryly. “Here to reacquaint yourself with your brother? Though I’ve got a feeling you already have.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Kill me?” Sam says. “In case you’ve forgotten, I work for the government too. I’m a prosecutor for all the surrounding counties in Kansas City.”

Sanderson raises a brow. “Is that supposed to intimidate me, son?”

“It should, Colonel,” Sam says. He nods at his brother. “The world already thinks he’s dead. Fine. But there’s plenty of people who know I traveled to Fort Laramie. People high up in the chain of command. If you hurt me, my brother, or these people, someone’s gonna hear about it. And soon.”

“He’s got a point there, Colonel,” Benny says.

“You shut the fuck up!” Sanderson barks at his captain. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot you down where you stand. You and Novak. But believe you me, I’ll be dealin’ with you later.”

Sanderson continues to seethe. He thinks hard about the decision he makes next as he stares down at Sam, and then back up at Dean. He grits his teeth, his mustache twitching. Dean holds his breath, though he briefly meets eyes with his brother.

Slowly, Sanderson lowers his weapon away from Mila. Dean can breathe again, if shallowly. He doesn’t drop his guard though. In fact, he watches Sanderson even closer.

“I’ll give you dirty mongrels one hour to clear out of here,” Sanderson says, his eyes narrowed. “Anything left gets tied down and burned to charcoal.”

With that, he sharply tugs on his horse’s reins. He commands his men to fall back, and like the soldiers they are, they obey. Benny and Cas both cast Dean a backwards glance—one that tells Dean that he still has the loyalty of his friends. He now realizes that Cas brought Sam back for a purpose; it wasn’t to hurt him, but to help him. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole “capture” was Sam’s idea.

After the soldiers clear out of the area with the Colonel, Dean and the other men dismount from their horses. He beelines for Mila, gathering her into the safety of his arms. Then he spares a hand to grab his brother’s shoulder as he smiles.

“I think I’m more glad to see you the second time,” Dean remarks.

“I’ll take that,” Sam says. His grin is infectious, but Dean returns his attention to his wife. He touches her cheek and runs his assessing gaze over her body. He frowns as he examines the thin cut along her neck where the soldier pressed the blade of her knife.

“You okay? Are you hurt?” he asks.

Mila shakes her head. “I’m fine.” Though she inspects him the same way with a wandering hand across his chest. Dean takes that hand and gives her a reassuring smile.

It falls when he hears Weaya crying. She sits beside three other women, including Šóta’s mother.

“Father,” Šóta says lowly. His voice is a rasp as he kneels beside Tahatan’s broken body, holding his hand. The chief manages to raise his head slightly. He looks at his son, and then his gaze travels. Eventually, it falls on Dean.

Tahatan smiles.

“Under this sky,” he says. “We are one people.”

He takes three more labored breaths before his eyes close. Šóta lays his father’s limp hand over his chest, which no longer moves.

Šóta’s mother gently raises her husband’s head to remove his long headdress. Among other things, it’s made of leather, glass beads, horsehair, and eagle tail feathers. Each feather represents a warrior’s honor earned in war, like a soldier’s insignia.

With shaking hands, she places it on Šóta’s head. He takes a deep breath, and he looks up at the many tear-stained faces that mirror his own.

“We have to go,” he says.

Sam stays to help mobilize the tribe. He helps a mother join her children into one of the caravans, then he and Otaktay heft rolled up tipis and supplies into the back of it.

“You are a law man?” Otaktay asks him.

Sam nods. “That’s right.”

“Make better laws,” Otaktay says, and walks away.

Sam is left with a bemused look on his face. Dean comes over and thumps him on the back.

“Making friends?” he says dryly.

“Don’t think so,” Sam replies. He shakes his head and follows his brother over to the second caravan.

“Eh, consider yourself lucky. That guy pretty much hates my guts,” Dean whispers.

Sam raises his brows. “What?”

Dean explains the story in its simplest, briefest terms. Meanwhile, the mood around their packing is somber and quiet.

For Mila, it feels wrong. It’s wrong for them to have to leave the river where they’ve tilled and nurtured the land for three generations. It’s wrong to leave Chief Tahatan’s body wrapped beside Takoda’s on the hill without at least one proper night of mourning. She feels her grief down to her very core, but all she can do is sit in the caravan beside her mother and hold protective hands around the small swell of her stomach. Her tears fall silently down her cheeks and dissolve between the indigo beads on her dress.

She only raises her head when Chatan comes to check on her and her mother. He touches Mila’s cheek, drying her tears there. He leans in to kiss Weaya’s hand.

“We leave soon,” he says.

“Where is Dean?” Mila asks.

“Helping Šóta,” Chatan replies, but he stops short and corrects himself. “He helps our Chief.”

A few moments later, the caravans begin to move as the horses pull with the reins. Šóta leads at the front with a few of the warriors, but the rest of them ride strategically around and behind the caravans. Sam and Dean fall back to ride beside Mila’s caravan, where Chatan sits at the helm. Sam has been given the horse of a fallen warrior, while Dean rides Mato.

Despite how low she feels, Mila smiles at the sight of her horse allowing Dean to ride him, even with a saddle and bridle.

“Mato is being agreeable,” she remarks.

“You sound surprised,” Dean says, teasing slightly. “Told you I’d get him to trust me eventually.”

“More like wear him down,” she quips back.

“Hey, he impregnated my mare. Without my say so, I might add. I’d say we’re proper father and son-in-law.”

“Yes,” Chatan chimes in wryly. “That is what that means.”

Mila scoffs at him, but the gleam of good humor in his eyes amuses her. She smiles as she rubs a hand over her belly. Dean smiles too. It’s strange that he can still do that after a night like tonight, but seeing Chatan do it, along with Sam, and Mila, and her mother too, it gives him hope for them—for all of them.

Until the first gunshot fires into the air.

Dean freezes. His body coils tight, and he turns to look sharply over his shoulder.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Colonel Sanderson went back on his word. His cavalrymen are gaining behind them on horseback, hooting and hollering like it’s a game for sport. His jaw clenching in both anger and determination, Dean tells Chatan to speed up the caravan. He locks eyes with Mila for a moment.

Be safe, he tries to say with that look.

Then he gives Sam a nod; together they speed up to alert Šóta at the front.

“They’re gaining on us,” Dean says, gesturing behind them. “We need to lead them away from the caravans and pick ‘em off—as many as we can.”

Šóta nods in grim agreement, but he has a moment of hesitation as he considers Dean.

“You go with the caravans,” he says.

Dean shakes his head. “No, I’m ending this. Once and for all.”

“You are willing to fight your people?” Šóta asks.

The set of Dean’s determined face doesn’t change.

“I’m protecting my people,” he says. He looks to Sam. “Stay with the caravans. Make sure they get across the river.”

Sam agrees, and the men split ways. Dean turns Mato away from the group along with Šóta and Otaktay, and a few other warriors. The caravans continue with Sam to help guide them. Mila clings to the edge and watches with growing dread as her husband rides farther and farther away from her.

Dean can’t allow himself to look back. Instead of drawing his gun, he reaches for his bow strapped to his back and an arrow from his quiver. He takes aim at the first soldier he sees raise his gun, along with a steadying breath, and he shoots his arrow before the other man can fire. The arrow embeds itself in the man’s chest and knocks him clean off his horse.

Šóta and Otaktay follow suit. They shout out yips and battle cries on the air as they take aim. The soldiers begin to scatter out of their formation. They weren’t expecting the Lakota to go on the offensive. Sanderson has conveniently let his men ride ahead of him, but Dean hears him giving the orders from behind. The Colonel has his left arm wrapped in a sling while he holds his gun aloft.

“All right, mustang,” Dean says to Mato, tightening his hands on the reins. “Remind ‘em why they should be scared a’ you.”

He gives the stallion a subtle kick. It’s just enough for him to pick up into a full gallop. Dean tucks his head down and lets the horse speed forward like a bullet carving across the plain. The soldiers take aim, but that’s when Šóta and Otaktay join in from behind. They begin to take down the uniformed men, one by one as they weave between bullets.

Dean tears between two officers and unbalances them. Mato, with his big head and chest, bulldozes straight through them. They shout in surprise and fear, and one of them even topples off his horse. Dean banks left and turns Mato around to finish what he started.

He retrieves his knife from his thigh holster and slices into one man’s neck, making him choke on his own blood. Dean forcefully takes the rifle off another man, and after flipping it around, hits him dead between the eyes with the butt of it—once, then twice until his nose breaks. He careens back off his horse into the dirt. Dean wracks the rifle and shoots the man for good measure.

The sound of a safety clicking back alerts him and turns his head, but he’s too late.

An arrow flies into the officer’s throat.

Dean looks over sharply. He finds Otaktay, lowering his bow.

Dean’s eyes widen. The other man just saved his life.

Dean nods in thanks, and Otaktay slowly returns the gesture. The moment is cut short, however, when Dean sharpens in alarm. Instead of opening his mouth to warn, he knows he has no time, not even to grab another arrow. He just throws his knife.

It carves through the air and hits Jack Kline where his arm meets his shoulder—his shooting arm that would’ve clipped Otaktay with his pistol. Jack falls off his horse and hits the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a hot rush. He groans in pain while clutching his arm. It’s not an easy wound, but he’ll live…as long as Otaktay doesn’t kill him first. Still on his horse, he towers over the younger man with another arrow notched.

“Wait!” Dean shouts.

He meant what he said about finishing this, but now looking at Jack, all Dean sees is a kid following orders. He doesn’t deserve to die like this, hundreds of miles away from home, just trying to make something of himself.

Otaktay looks up, wasting a precious second. Another beat, and a bullet tears into him, almost forcing him off his horse. Dean grits his teeth and speeds forward. Šóta rejoins them in time to help lead Otaktay away; he’s been hit in the side. There’s no telling how deep, but all Dean can focus on is the path ahead.

He comes face to face with Colonel Sanderson.

Dean raises his bow and arrow and ducks his head against another bullet, still shooting off his arrow. It misses its aim at the horse’s legs, but it spooks him enough to whinny in distress. It begins to buck off the Colonel.

“Whoa!” he shouts, trying to take back control of the horse. Dean rides in close and cracks a fist across Sanderson’s face. His head whips back with a pained grunt. Dean grabs his wrist and twists, until he feels tendons popping and the gun loosened from the other man’s hand. Then, Dean brings his elbow up into Sanderson’s nose and spills blood.

“Fuck!” Sanderson growls. He manages to land a punch of his own with his left arm, despite how it makes his shoulder bleed again. Dean recovers from the blow to his cheek and goes to grab that wound, digging in his fingers hard. He’s satisfied by the howl of pain Sanderson lets loose.

Dean doesn’t care if it’s a dirty tactic. He’s taking any opportunity he can, because right now, it’s not about his honor. It’s about protecting what’s his.

But Sanderson fights back just as dirty. He grabs Dean by the back of his neck and headbutts him, so hard he sees stars. Sanderson lands one more kick to Dean’s chest that almost sends him off of Mato. Dean has to grab on tight to the saddle and pull himself up, just in time for a lassoed rope to circle around his neck. Dean’s eyes fly wide in alarm. He slips his hand between the rope and his neck just in time before it tightens—because Sanderson tugs hard as he urges his horse into a gallop.

“Aw, sh—” Dean is yanked off Mato. He lands hard in the dirt, before he begins to be dragged across it.

Once again, the current is strong across Little Cheyenne. The first caravan has more horses to pull it through, but the caravan that Chatan is trying to lead starts to take on water. Mila and her mother sit behind him, along with Misae and her daughters, Tahatan’s widows, and Eyota and her husband.

The colt is doing his best to keep going, but Baby and two of the other horses are struggling in the pull of the river. They’ve hit a deeper patch under the water, and now it’s all the way up to Baby’s chest. She can’t handle the weight of the caravan along with the river’s current.

Sam comes closer with rope in hand, but Mila can see in his eyes that he’s trying to decide what to do. She grasps the edge of the caravan to pull herself up, and she points to the black mare.

“She needs help!” she calls out to him.

“Mila, sit down!” Chatan orders.

Mila turns back to her father with a determined set to her face. She knows his ankle has never healed entirely right. If he tries to do what she’s about to do, he’d probably fall into the river and get trampled by the horses. She knows what she must do.

She carefully stands up all the way and moves to the edge of the caravan, ignoring her father and mother trying to stop her. Sam’s eyes grow wide, but he tries to come in closer to support her. She steps out onto Baby’s back and slides into an astride position. The frigid water climbs up Mila’s dress and reaches her waist, making her shiver, but she ignores that too. She reaches out for Sam.

“Throw me the rope!” she calls out.

Sam follows her lead and does what she says. Mila not only catches the rope, but loops the ends of it around Baby’s bridle and around her chest. It’s hard work, especially because Mila has to tread water just to get the rope around the mare’s wide chest, but Sam helps her as much as he can.

When they’ve finished securing the ropes, Sam pulls ahead. With his horse leading Baby, she gets the momentum she needs to climb out of the dip, and eventually, cross the rest of the river.

Mila is sopping wet by the time they make it to the other side. Her braid has come loose, and so her hair becomes a black curtain around her face. She clings to Baby as she catches her breath, stroking the horse’s neck.

“Good girl. Big, strong girl,” she soothes. “Your father will be proud of you.”

Speaking of, Mila turns to look back. Across the river, the men are still fighting off the soldiers that sought to finish what they started last night. Mila scans with narrowed eyes for Dean.

“You all right?” Sam asks. He sidles up next to her and grasps her shoulder to make sure.

“Fine,” she breathes.

But she hesitates on a sharp inhale. Her brows furrow as she tries to make sure of what she’s seeing. Her mouth drops open in shock.

“Sam!” She points out the shape of a man she thinks is Dean. Sam follows her line of vision and becomes just as alarmed at what he sees.

Mila immediately takes her father’s knife from her shoe and cuts the ropes that bind Baby to the caravan. Mila puts her fingers to her lips and whistles sharply instead of kicking the mare. Baby sharpens to attention and heeds the command, just like she’s done for Dean a hundred times before.

Mila guides her back through the river.

Dean is being road hauled across the plain. He hits every bump, rock, twig, and dry patch of dirt in several yards as he twists and struggles to break free.

He lost his knife to save Otaktay, and he’s probably lost all his arrows along with his bow. Dean grits his teeth, as he can hear Sanderson’s insane hooting and hollering on the wind whipping past his ears, and not much else.

He doesn’t know where Šóta is, or if even Otaktay’s still alive, but his last thoughts aren’t about them. Instinctively, he thinks of his wife. It’s not even a coherent thought. It’s just her name, her face, her hand on his heart.

And the rope snaps.

Dean grunts as his momentum slows. He rolls across the dirt and grass to a stop. He probably has road burns and cuts and bruises all down his back, but at least he can stare up at the morning sun and breathe.

Heaving for free air, he tugs the rope from around his neck and shoves it off. He hears familiar horse hooves galloping his way. Somehow, he manages to raise his head.

Now, either the sun is playing tricks on him, or a black shape is thundering towards him.

Apparently, his eyes aren’t lying to him. Baby slows to a stop, and Mila climbs down from her back. Mila rushes to his side and kneels beside him after putting away her knife. She takes his face into her gentle hands.

“Dean?” she says, her voice tinged with desperation.

He grabs onto her wrist and smiles weakly, looking up at her soulful brown eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

She sighs and shakes her head, despite the tears in her eyes.

“Be quiet,” she laughs. Dean just grins.

She cups the back of his neck and guides him up slowly into a sitting position. His back is a bloody mess, but they’ll deal with that later.

“You all right, brother?”

Dean’s smile drops. He clutches at Mila’s arm protectively, but he looks up at Benny Lafitte. His horse shifts in place. Dean finally notices Sam is there too, with his gun trained on Benny. But Benny’s gun is raised right back at Sam.

They’re joined by Colonel Sanderson. He wears a self-satisfied look on his face as he approaches with his pistol held aloft.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “Ain’t this a picture. Traitors and savages.”

Mila keeps her back to the Colonel; she stubbornly defends Dean with her body, even though he’s gathered her to his chest protectively. With his right hand, he subtly reaches for the gun holster at his thigh. One last weapon. One last shot.

He shares a look with Mila, silently asking her to trust him. She gives him a subtle nod.

“Captain Lafitte,” Sanderson addresses Benny, even though his gaze is straight on Dean and Mila. He holds Sam in his periphery. “Now’s the time to take a stand. Are you gonna serve your country and put these three in the ground where they belong, or are you gonna join ‘em?”

Benny stares back at his superior officer. He thought he understood before, but today is when he truly understands why Dean made his choice.

Benny lowers his weapon down to his side.

“This ain’t the law,” he says. “This ain’t justice. It’s just pride, plain and simple. Your pride, Colonel.”

After a moment of genuine surprise, Sanderson rolls his eyes. He shifts his gun off of Sam and points it at Benny next.

A trigger fires, but the bullet that hits its mark is not the Colonel’s.

It’s Dean’s, and it hits Asmodeus Sanderson between the eyes.

Dean lowers his silver, smoking Colt down at his side, where Mila moved just in time for Dean to take his shot. He holds her to him now, taking in deep breaths.

Benny and Sam both look to Dean with shock still in their eyes, but before either of them can say anything, they notice Cas stumbling over on foot with a wounded Jack Kline leaning heavily on him. They’re flanked on both sides by Šóta and Otaktay. The latter has a cloth tied tight around his middle. His bullet wound just looks like a nasty graze.

The other warriors that remain follow behind, and they have Mato and Baby in tow by their bridles.

Dean realizes that Cas and Jack are the only other survivors from the rest of the unit. Šóta has taken them prisoner. He orders the other men to force Benny off of his horse. They shove him closer to Cas and Jack.

Dean quickly tries to raise up onto his knees, though it’s hard for him to stand. Mila helps him the rest of the way, and he keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“We will make an example of these,” Šóta says, nodding at Cas, Jack, and Benny. They look rightly nervous, shifting their gazes towards Dean.

Dean raises his hands to placate Šóta (and hopefully reassure his friends).

“Šóta, I know these guys. They were my men,” he says. “They were just following the Colonel’s orders.”

“And what does that mean to me, Dean Winchester?” Šóta says. He climbs down from his horse, his headdress of feathers tousled as a breeze rushes through.

“It means they won’t follow us,” Dean says. “They won’t tell the Army what actually happened here. They’ll keep their word if I ask them to. So I’m asking you…trust me. Trust me like you’ve trusted me before.”

Šóta seems to consider it, even though he doesn’t exactly like the idea. Otaktay seems to like it even less.

“We won’t betray you, Chief,” Benny says to Šóta, and to the other warriors. “We respect you, and we don’t want any more trouble. For us, or for Dean.”

Šóta considers this with a tilt of his head. Before he decides, first, he turns to Otaktay. Other than Dean, he’s now the man Šóta trusts most.

Otaktay looks over at Dean. Between them, there’s an understanding. Finally, there’s also respect. Otaktay returns his gaze to his leader, and he nods.

Šóta expels a deep breath. He addresses the three soldiers.

“Go. Go in peace, or next time, there will not be peace,” he says.

The soldiers breathe in relief.

Dean steps forward with Mila’s help. There he shakes each man’s hand. He’s said goodbye to Cas and Benny before, but somehow, this feels even more final than the last.

Benny and Cas are given back their horses. They help Jack up first, then Cas climbs up with him. Benny mounts his own horse, and Sam, Dean, and the Lakota watch them leave the way they came.

It takes days to cross the plains and maneuver through the mountains, but Šóta leads the rest of the tribe to safety within Sioux territory. They find a place to settle along the Big Cheyenne River, northeast of the Black Hills.

There they will learn the land and what to plant and forage there for the late autumn harvest, as summer ends. There is where they will honor the dead who couldn’t make the journey. There is where their traditions will be celebrated, old and new.

Like today. The men have painted each other with blue circles around their faces and blue lines across their foreheads, chins, and cheekbones. The women are painted similarly in red. It symbolizes change in its many forms, but most of all, it symbolizes new relationships, and new responsibilities.

Today, it’s Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. This ceremony formally welcomes Dean into the tribe by marriage. It also recognizes Sam as his brother, and so, it acknowledges Sam as a friend to their tribe as well. They are now all family. One people.

Dean sits with his brother around the large firepit, where a roasted boar is already half-eaten. Dean has shared a lot of meals with these people, but somehow, this one is the best he’s ever eaten. Maybe it’s the company, he thinks, as he laughs at some old story Sam is trying to tell.

“No, no, no, that’s not what happened. Let me tell it—”

“What, so you can make stuff up?”

“Oh, I’m making stuff up?”

Mila giggles quietly, but it’s enough to earn Dean’s attention. She sits at his left, and he turns to her with an amused smile.

“What’re you laughing at?” he teases. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her in.

“You,” she replies. “You and your brother. You’re worse than me and Šóta.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. He points over at her cousin, their esteemed Chief, who’s busy making shadow creatures with exaggerated voices to impress the kids. Right now, it’s a big grizzly bear that threatens to eat the closest child.

“Worse than the grizzly?” Dean says.

“Hmm, maybe not,” she says with a laugh.

That evening, Dean is glad he convinced Sam to start sleeping in his own tipi. He agreed to stay until Mila has the baby, but while Dean is grateful to have his brother here for a few more months, he still wants some much-needed privacy with his wife.

He “helps” her undress for bed, all the while distracting her with lingering kisses across her neck and shoulders, winding his fingers into her long hair. He wraps his arms around her and cups her full breasts from behind, satisfied by the arousing way she moans.

“They’re heavier,” Dean whispers in her ear, gently squeezing her breasts. She hums in response. “Your thighs and hips are thicker too, nice and soft for me.” He squeezes those too for good measure.

“I am changing,” she admits. “Are they good changes?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, his lips moving against her throat. He gently turns her around and guides her down to lay on the bedding and furs. He palms at the best change of all—the growing swell of her belly. She’s gotten bigger, and growing a little more each week. Dean really wants to meet his kid.

He dips down to lay a path of slow, tender kisses down between her breasts, and over her belly. Mila smiles and threads her fingers through his hair. It’s getting long, brushing past his ears.

“Do you want a son, or a daughter?” she asks him. It’s not the first time she’s asked, but she wonders if his answer will change now, after everything they’ve gone through to get here. She finds that her own answer hasn’t changed.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t care. Either one.”

All he wants is for the baby to be healthy, and for Mila to be healthy too. He moves back up to claim her lips. When he kisses her like this, he hopes she knows what he’s really saying. Just in case, he says it anyway. He says it out loud to her for the first time.

“I love you,” he says. He pauses, then smiles a little. “You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever said that to.”

She smiles, because she knows. With her hand over his heart, she knows.

And when their son is born a few months later, she has a dream. She dreams of an eagle’s wings that shift from white to gold in the light.

Dean plans to give him a name he picked out weeks before, Elijah. It was his father’s middle name. But she will also give their son a name.

Ikíphi, the name her uncle, Chief Tahatan, gave Dean Winchester himself.

Because one day, she knows her son will be worthy of it.

AN: And there we have it! A more definitive end to Dean and Mila's story. 🥹

For those of you who read and enjoyed this, thank you so much for sticking with me through this sequel of The Honorable Choice. This was an idea that wouldn't let go of me once I started, and it's the first time that I've written something like this. 💖💖

Pronunciation Guide:

Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew") Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

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kathlare · 1 month ago

Text

under the festive lights

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando celebrate Christmas Eve in Mérida, blending their families in a vibrant, heartwarming holiday gathering.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

December 24th, 2024 - Mérida, Mexico

The streets of Mérida buzzed with the warmth of the holidays. Lanterns and fairy lights illuminated the colonial buildings downtown, their golden glow reflecting the festive energy in the city. Amelie stood on the porch of her family’s home, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she watched Lando’s car pull into the driveway.

Her heart gave a little leap, as it always did when she saw him, even now, more than a year into their relationship. The December air was cooler than usual for Yucatán, but Lando had assured her his family would love the warmth—both of the weather and of her family.

Lando stepped out of the car first, a grin breaking across his face as he caught sight of Amelie waiting for him. He was dressed in a light linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark trousers that made him look effortlessly put-together. His curls were slightly messy, but it was the look Amelie adored most. His family began to file out behind him: his mum, who looked around curiously at the colorful neighborhood; his dad, who immediately offered Amelie a warm smile; his sisters, Cisc and Flo, who were chatting excitedly, and his older brother Oliver, who carried baby Athena, while his wife Sav trailed behind with their other daughter, Mila.

Amelie smiled brightly as Lando walked up the path, his steps quickening when he got closer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground in a warm hug.

—Hola, mi amor,— he murmured into her ear, his voice soft and teasing. —Miss me?—

—Not really,— she quipped, her laugh betraying her words as she clung to him. —You were only gone for an hour.—

—Longest hour of my life,— Lando teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before setting her down.

—You’re so dramatic,— she teased back, smoothing his shirt where she’d wrinkled it in their embrace.

—You love it,— he shot back with a wink.

Amelie rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. She stepped back to greet the rest of Lando’s family, embracing Cisca and Flo first, their easy warmth already making them feel like part of her own family. Oliver and Sav offered polite hugs, and Mila ran to Amelie with open arms, giggling as Amelie scooped her up effortlessly.

—Hola, preciosa,— Amelie cooed, peppering the toddler’s cheeks with kisses. Mila squealed in delight, clinging to Amelie like they’d known each other forever.

—She’s obsessed with you,— Sav said with a laugh, brushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. —Athena too, honestly. I think they’re more excited to see you than anyone else.—

—That makes two of us,— Lando quipped, earning a playful smack on the arm from Amelie as she set Mila back down.

—Come on, everyone,— Amelie said, gesturing toward the house. —My family’s inside, and I hope you brought your appetite because dinner is going to be huge.—

Lando intertwined his fingers with hers as they led his family inside. The sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses drifted from the dining room, where Amelie’s family had already gathered. Her mother, Victoria, greeted the Norris family with open arms, her natural warmth immediately putting everyone at ease. Elías, Amelie’s father, offered Adam a firm handshake before pulling him into a quick embrace, the kind that felt more familial than formal.

—Welcome to our home,— Elías said, his voice rich with sincerity.

—It’s beautiful,— Cisca replied, her eyes darting around to take in the vibrant colors and cozy decor.

Amelie’s siblings quickly made their way over, with Callum introducing himself to Oliver, the two older brothers immediately finding common ground in their easy confidence. Jack, ever the charmer, entertained Flo and Cisca with jokes, while Chequito hovered shyly around Lando, clearly starstruck.

—You must be Sergio,— Lando said, crouching slightly to be at eye level with Amelie’s youngest nephew. —I’ve heard so much about you.—

Chequito’s face lit up, and he glanced at Amelie for reassurance before offering Lando a small smile. —I watch your races. You’re really fast.—

Lando grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair. —And you’re really cool. We’ll have to race sometime.—

Amelie watched the interaction with a fond smile, leaning into Stella, who stood nearby holding Emilio. —He’s good with kids,— Amelie murmured.

—You two are disgustingly cute,— Stella teased back, nudging her gently. —Go save the turkey before Lando eats it all.—

Dinner was a lively, chaotic affair, filled with the kind of warmth that only comes from mixing two families who already adore each other. The table was laden with a feast: turkey, pasta, sandwichón, ham shank, and a variety of fresh salads. Lando’s family tried everything, with Cisca and Flo particularly fascinated by the sandwichón, while Oliver couldn’t get enough of the turkey.

—This is amazing,— Adam said, raising his glass of wine in a toast to Victoria and Elías. —Thank you for having us and for such a wonderful meal.—

—It’s our pleasure,— Victoria replied with a smile, glancing at Amelie and Lando. —We’re just happy to finally meet all of you.—

Throughout the meal, Lando and Amelie couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Their touches were subtle, Lando resting his hand on her thigh under the table, Amelie brushing her fingers along his wrist as she passed him the breadbasket, but enough to make both their families exchange knowing looks.

—So, Lando,— Manu said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward. —When are you moving to Mérida? You seem pretty settled here already.—

—Don’t tempt me,— Lando shot back, winking at Amelie. —I could get used to this.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing pink. —He’d melt in the summer.—

—Only if you weren’t around to keep me cool,— Lando said smoothly, earning a chorus of groans from the table.

Amelie playfully shoved Lando’s shoulder, shaking her head at his shameless flirting, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

Dinner stretched late into the night, filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional stories from both families. Victoria recounted embarrassing tales from Amelie’s childhood, much to her daughter’s mortification and everyone else’s amusement. Not to be outdone, Adam and Cisca shared anecdotes about Lando’s early racing days, including a particularly memorable incident involving a too-small kart and a tantrum at age six.

By the time the plates were cleared and the clock struck 11:50 p.m., the group began migrating to the living room for the traditional Mexican Christmas prayer. Amelie had explained it to Lando earlier, her excitement palpable as she described the significance of celebrating Jesus’ birth with family.

The living room was cozy and festive, with twinkling lights wrapped around the tree and a small Nativity scene set up near the window. Everyone gathered around, some standing, others sitting, with the children perched on laps.

Victoria led the prayer, her voice soft but steady as she spoke of gratitude, love, and family. Lando stood next to Amelie, his arm wrapped around her waist as they bowed their heads. It was a quiet, reflective moment, a sharp contrast to the boisterous energy of dinner, but it felt deeply personal and intimate.

When the prayer ended, the room erupted in cheerful voices wishing each other a merry Christmas. Champagne glasses were distributed, and as the clock struck midnight, everyone clinked their glasses together, exchanging hugs and well-wishes.

Amelie turned to Lando, her eyes shining with warmth. —Merry Christmas, Lan,— she said softly, leaning into him.

—Merry Christmas, Ames,— he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

—Ugh, get a room,— Jack groaned from across the room, making them break apart with matching grins.

—Don’t tempt us,— Lando shot back, earning a collective laugh from the group.

The next part of the evening was the highlight: the Secret Santa exchange. A large sack of gifts was brought out, and one by one, names were called.

Amelie went first, pulling out a beautifully wrapped package and handing it to Flo with a cheeky grin. —You’re welcome in advance,— she teased, earning a laugh from the younger girl.

Flo unwrapped the gift to reveal a handcrafted leather journal with her initials embossed on the cover. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately ran to hug Amelie. —This is amazing! Thank you so much!—

Lando, in true dramatic fashion, waited until nearly the end to reveal his Secret Santa recipient: Jack. He handed over a sleek, gift-wrapped box, smirking as Jack tore it open to reveal a state-of-the-art gaming headset.

—No way!— Jack exclaimed, turning the headset over in his hands. —You’re the best, mate. Seriously.—

—I know,— Lando quipped, earning a round of laughter.

When it was Amelie’s turn to receive her gift, her name was called, and she looked surprised when Oliver stepped forward with a mischievous grin.

—Mila helped me pick this out,— he admitted, handing her a carefully wrapped gift.

Amelie opened it to find a delicate gold necklace with a small star pendant. Her breath hitched slightly as she looked up at Oliver and then at Mila, who was beaming.

—It’s beautiful,— she said sincerely, bending down to hug the little girl. —Thank you, Mila. And you too, Oliver.—

By the time the last gift was unwrapped, the adults were nursing their champagne and the children were starting to nod off. Lando’s family began to gather their things to head back to their hotel downtown, much to Amelie’s quiet disappointment.

She pulled Lando aside as his family prepared to leave, her hand tugging gently at his. —Are you really going to leave me here all alone?—

—You’re hardly alone, Ames. Your entire family is here,— he replied, though his teasing grin faltered when he saw the pout on her lips.

—But it’s Christmas, Lan. Don’t make me sleep without you tonight. It’s cruel.—

Lando chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. —You’re ridiculously persuasive, you know that?—

—Only because I know what I want,— she shot back, her voice dropping to a whisper. —And right now, I want you to stay.—

He sighed dramatically, as though the decision was agony, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. —Fine. Let me drop my family off at the hotel, and I’ll come right back. Happy?—

—Ecstatic,— Amelie replied, grinning as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her smile lingering against him. —Drive safely.—

—Always do,— he murmured, stealing one last kiss before heading off to see his family out.

True to his word, Lando returned not even thirty minutes later, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, looking entirely too comfortable as he slipped back into the house. Amelie was waiting for him in the living room, curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies.

—You look cozy,— he teased, dropping down beside her and pulling her into his arms.

—And you look like you’re ready for bed,— she shot back, snuggling closer to him.

—Funny, that’s exactly where I was planning to go.— He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. —Merry Christmas, Ames.—

She looked up at him, her expression soft and full of affection. —Merry Christmas, Lan.—

The rest of the house was quiet now, the children fast asleep and the adults having retired to their rooms. In the warm glow of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, Lando and Amelie stayed curled up together, their whispers and laughter filling the quiet night as they soaked in the joy of the holiday—and the undeniable comfort of being home, in every sense of the word.

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libraryofloveletters · 2 years ago

Text

Nothing Without You

John Stones x Fem!Reader

Warnings: best friends in love but also in denial, everyone can see it but them, lots of softness, alcohol and the consumption of (lots of it), drunk jack grealish (thats a warning in itself), swearing, it’s so family coded between the players and kids and wags, baby fever from john’s end, friendly teasing from the other players, horrible singing, drunken posting, Sasha and reader are lowkey besties, hangovers for dayssssss

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: you can blame the great miss whitney houston for this. every song she has is so john coded and in honour of the treble win, I had to do this.

Attached at the hip since you two were 20, it’s been that way since the first day you met; John was the drunk guy singing off key to Whitney Houston and you were the girl dancing next to him.

Inseparable since.

Istanbul had you all on the edge of your seat, fingers crossed and your heart pounding out of your chest as you watched Inter kick the ball towards the net. Ederson swatted the ball away and they managed to kick it from the net just as the final whistle blew.

One.

Two.

Three.

The match was over and you could breathe again; you can’t imagine how the boys must be feeling. Everyone goes running onto the field, the boys collapsing and hugging each other, screaming and shouting as the entire stadium cheers.

“They did it!!” You turned to the woman shouting next to you.

You pulled Sasha into a hug, “they did it!!” You shouted back. The two of you stood together as you watched the trophy ceremony, and the boys received their metals. The blue and white confetti covered the green grass and the fireworks covered the black night sky.

“C’mon!” You grabbed her hand as you made your way down to the field to see the boys.

John spots you before you spot him. The man in blue comes running to you, arms open before he reaches you. “Johnny!!!” You screamed, jumping on your best friend. He grinned, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a fat kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips.

The player swings you around before putting you down. Your hands squished his face, “Johnny!! I'm soooo proud of you. You’re a fucking champion!”

“Fucking champions!!” He laughs, kissing your temple as he puts his arm over your shoulder.

You two walked around the pitch, John stopping every two seconds to talk to his teammates and the Man City staff. You had wandered off, spotting Riyad’s fiancé, Taylor and their daughter, Mila. “Hi baby girl,” you smiled, tickling her side. “You wanna hold her?” Taylor asks and you smile, nodding.

She hands the little girl over to you and you kiss her cheek, fixing her little Man City jersey. You felt someone grab your leg and you look down to see none other than Ronnie. “Hi buddy!” You kneel down, moving to sit on the ground with Mila.

“Hi y/n! Hi Mila!” He holds her little hand, the two of them giggling over something. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was telling her but it was making her laugh.

John patted his friend’s back, the two of them turning their attention to you on the floor with the kids. Riyad doesn’t miss the way John’s eyes light up when he looks at you or how his smile brightens. You covered Mila’s eyes before Ronnie made a silly face at her. The three of you giggling like the best of friends. The big number 5 on your back and the sight of kids in your arms only made John’s heart skip a beat.

“She's good with them, huh?” He says, getting John’s attention.

“What?” He asks, confused.

Riyad nods towards you with the kids. “Y/n... she's good with the kids.”

“Oh,” John nods, smiling. “Yeah. She’s great.”

The man shakes his head, nudging his friend with his shoulder. Riyad laughs, “you just don’t get it.”

He picks up Mila, rubbing Ronnie’s head as he passes by with the little girl. John wanders over to you, a hand stretched out to help you up.

“Shall we take a picture?” He held your hand, walking over to Erling and his girlfriend who currently had the trophy.

You smiled watching as Erling stood up and handed the massive silver trophy over to his teammate. You and Isabel were whispering something to each other when John replaced Erling on the random chair in the middle of the pitch, the trophy balanced on his right leg.

“Babe,” the word rolled off his tongue, a common name amongst the many nicknames he had for you. “C’mere.” He pats his free thigh.

You walked over and sat yourself down on his leg, an arm over his shoulder to balance yourself. John wraps an arm around your waist, a hand on your hip with the other holding the trophy. Your arm was still over his shoulder and the other was holding the other side of the trophy.

One of the photographers shouts, “Smile!” John ignores him, letting you hold up the weight of the trophy for a minute, taking the medal around his neck off. He slings it around your neck, straightening it before holding the trophy again.

“Okay, ready now.” He tells no one in particular, the two of you smiling at the various cameras.

You giggled as John pinched your hip, getting you to smile brighter; the way he liked.

You were about to take the medal off but he stopped you, “keep it. It looks better on you,” he smiled as he passed the trophy off to Jack when you two got up.

---

There’s shouting, music and laughter coming from the other side of your hotel door. The boys were in full party mode but all decided to take a quick minute to freshen up before heading out again.

All of them except for the one you were certain was banging on your room door.

“Y/n!!” He sang along with the music, knocking again. “C’mon! I know you’re in there!!” He shouts as you open the door.

Jack stood there in his kit, medal over his neck as he dragged the big speaker behind him. He looks at you like you were an alien; lipstick in one hand, your drink in the other with the curlers pinned in your hair so you can freshen it up.

“You’re not ready?!” He shouts as if you were down the hallway.

You laughed, shaking your head. “What are you even doing up here? I thought you went straight to the club.”

"I came looking for- Oh! Here!” He turns around and grabs something, handing you a shot glass filled with some gold liquid when he turns back around. You look at the man like he's insane.

You brought the glass up to your face, the heavy scent of tequila caused you to wrinkle your nose. “Where'd you even get this?”

Jack’s got his own shot in hand, tapping his glass to yours. “We're fucking champions of Europe, baby! Cheers!” he shouted, the two of you giggling as you downed your shots in the doorway like teenagers getting drunk off cheap booze before a party. The tequila burns on the way down but Jack turns, the half empty bottle of 1942 in hand when he spins around again and he refills the shot glasses.

You tap your glass to his and drink this shot too, thinking you can finally get rid of him, allowing yourself to finish getting ready in peace but Jack starts singing and refilling the shot glasses once again.

“John, John, Johnny Stonesssss!” He held the note, “where are you, my Johnny Stones?!”

And as if he was summoned, John stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist. You won’t lie and say your best friend wasn’t attractive because he was but you couldn't look at him like that; despite looking at him like that right now. Your eyes fixed on the man, watching the way the water dripped down his chest, following the little drops all the way down to the towel that stopped them from going further.

Even with him being drunk, Jack noticed the way you looked at his teammate. He wiggled his eyebrows as he tapped his glass to yours. The two of you downed what you hoped was the final set of shots before he left.

He wiggled his eyebrows, John wasn’t paying attention to Jack at the moment. “Don’t fuck! Come down so we can get fucked upppppp.”

“Fuck off,” you laughed, smacking his arm lightly. Jack waved to you, finally walking away to the elevator.

John looks at you as he puts on his pants, “why is your face red?”

“Had a few shots with Jack,” you held up the empty shot glass, finally putting your lipstick on. John nods, humming as he finishes getting dressed. You were glad Jack stopped in because what else would you blame your red cheeks on? The fact that you were gawking at your shirtless best friend?

Insane.

He comes over to you, his hand on your hip as he watches you pull the last curler from your hair.

“Ready?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror.

You nod, smiling. “Ready.”

The club was five minutes from the hotel, you bumped into Phil and Becca on your way to the lobby, the four of you deciding to head there together. From the moment you stepped inside, John and Phil were instantly pulled into hugs, conversations and promises of dances, not to mention all the drinks all of you were being handed before you even made it to the bar.

The four of you got separated, you and Becca found a few of the other girls who had lost their other halves and were sorta dancing and chatting at the same time - it was more of a shout over the music but you were all too many shots in to care.

At some point, you decided you needed another drink that wasn’t in a shot glass. “I’m gonna get a drink!” You shouted to Becca and she gave you a thumbs up. “Do you want anything?”

“No! I’m good babe!” She smiles, letting you walk off to the bar.

You navigate your way through the crowd and eventually find the bar. The bartender was busy and you waited, not wanting to be one of those people at shouts at the bartenders who were clearly busy. A few minutes later, he found his way to you so you could order and just as you do, you feel a set of hands on your hips.

“I was looking for you!” The person shouts to you, a chin on your shoulder before you turn around.

You find John holding onto you, a big goofy grin on his face and you could smell the liquor on him; now if he split something on himself or if he had one too many shots, it was unclear but one thing was, that he was having a good time.

“I was looking for you too!” You shouted back to him, smiling at him.

Just as you turn around to get your drink, the opening notes of I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston come on; an odd choice for a club you think to yourself but John doesn’t follow the same train of thought. The man grabs your hand, the drink spilling as he pulls, practically yanked, you to the dance floor.

“This!” He shouts, “is my fucking song!”

You giggled, letting him pull you to him before you two started singing.

“Take my love, I’ll never ask for too much. Just all that you are and everything that you do.” You sang to John, arms over his shoulders and your hand resting on the back of his neck.

The man’s hand reached for your hips, pulling you a few inches closer. “I don't really need to look very much further. I don't wanna have to go, where you don't follow.”

“I won't hold it back again, this passion inside. Can't run from myself. There's nowhere to hide.” You sang the next part.

John spun you around, your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around you and held you close to him. You can feel his chin on your shoulder, the stubble on his jaw rubbed against yours as he pressed his face to yours.

“Don't make me close one more door. I don't wanna hurt anymore. Stay in my arms if you dare or must I imagine you there. Don't walk away from me.” He sang horribly off key.

You giggled as you two sang the last part together; “I have nothing, nothing, nothing if I don't have you, you, you, you, you, you.”

John lets go of you, your hand still on his shoulder as you two danced to the other song. You take a sip from your drink only to find the ice hitting your lips. “I need another one!” You tell him, wandering off to the bar again.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jack and Erling giggling.

“What?” You shouted to them and Jack ran over. “You and John are so cute, it makes me wanna puke!” He laughs, a hand on your arm.

Erling slings his arm over your shoulder, “yeah! Get a room!”

“Fuck off, both of you!” You laughed, ignoring them.

You left them at the bar, a drink in hand as you walked off to find John again. The man was with Kyle and Ruben, the 3 of them pouring a round of shots.

“Want one?” Kyle held a glass out to you and you nod, taking it from him. John’s arm slings over your shoulder, pulling you into his side before the 4 of you holding up your shots.

“To us! To the treble! To the champions of Europe!” Kyle shouts over the music, the clear liquid slipping over the rim of the glass, all of you downing your shots.

Kyle pulls Ruben to dance, the two of them amongst the last set of people on the dance floor. It was nearly 5am, the sun was peeking through the clouds over the city and all of you had been up for nearly 24 hours straight. There was a flight back to Manchester in 5 hours and you figured you two could sneak in a few hours of sleep.

John had the same thought, “ready to go?” He whispers to you, lips pressed to your ear. You nod, holding his hand as you two walk out. He shouted to his friends as you two walked out of the club, his fingers interlocked with yours when you got into the cab back to the hotel.

The walk up to the room was no better, his hands on your hips, the two of you giggling as you tried to undo the lock on the door, the keycard not buzzing. John’s face buried in your neck, the stubble on his chin tickling at your skin, you shrugging him off and finally got into the room.

He went to the bathroom to change and you were on the bed, taking a moment to gather yourself before you tried to get your shoes off. Eventually you managed to undo the strap and kicked them off, letting them land somewhere.

“Fuck,” you heard from groan from the bathroom, you slowly got up and walked over.

You could see the man in the reflection of the mirror, his fingers tugging at the buttons on his shirt but he wasn’t getting them undone. “Need help?” you asked, pushing the door open.

John dropped his hands, “please.”

Your hands slowly made its way down, undoing the buttons for him. The medal around his neck slung as he moved and he finally got the hint after you pushed it away like 4 times. John took it off, you assumed he’d set it down somewhere but instead he slung it around your neck, the heavy gold pendent hitting your sternum when he let go.

“Perfect,” he smiled to himself as he watched you undo the last button.

You picked up the medal. “What’s this for?”

“Just ‘cause and you’re the coolest ever,” he hugs you from behind, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “And because I love you sooooooo much,” he smiled, kissing your jaw when he leaned down.

Your cheeks are bright red, swatting the man’s hands when he pinches your side.

The phone on the counter catches your eye and you pick it up, manage to unlock it and open the camera. “Smile,” you told him, leaning back on him. John’s arm wrapped around you, over your shoulder as you two smiled at each other in the mirror.

There’s a series of drunken photos being taken; his arms around you, the two of you making silly faces, laughing and giggling. Somehow you’re leaning over the counter and he’s got the phone now, you’re still laughing. There’s one of you hugging him, you kiss his cheek and in the next one, he kisses yours. Somehow you got your signals crossed, both of you turning to kiss each other on the cheek and ended up actually kissing. Your hand on his cheek as you giggled against his lips.

“We should try to sleep,” you tell him as you hopped up onto the counter.

John leaned on you and was clicking away from his phone. “Uh huh,” he finally put the phone down, wrapping his arms around you before he picked you up.“Let’s go then,” he carried you back to the bedroom, you giggled as you held onto him, the man dropping you on the bed before joining you.

---

The airport was noisy, your head pounding and you were still refusing to open your eyes. John’s arm was around you and you were cuddled into his side, trying to get a few more seconds of peace before the team headed out for this flight back to Manchester. The rest of you would all be on your own flights home later in the day.

Kevin was passing by, a smile on his face as he looked at this teammate. “Good man, Johnny.” He pats the man’s shoulder. John gives him a puzzled smile, watching Kevin walk away.

You open your eyes slightly, looking at your friend. “What is Kev on about?”

“Not a clue,” John rubbed your arm, letting you settle back into his side.

Gundo walked by, a big smile on his face as he looked between the two of you. John was beyond confused as to why all his teammates were in a good mood, patting his shoulders and telling him good job.

Either he was delusional and stuck in an alternate reality or they were all still drunk.

“YOU GUYS FINALLY DID IT!!!!” Jack shouts, jumping in front of you both. “Oh god, make him shut up.” You grumbled in John’s arm, making him chuckle.

Sasha shushed the man, pulling him back a bit. “Jack!” She scolded him, “be quiet.

“Okay, I’m confused. What is going on?” John asked. Jack’s looking at you two like you’re mad, “you- what do you mean what’s going on?” He reaches for his phone to show you something but the screen won’t turn on.

Sasha ignores her boyfriend for a moment, showing you both what Jack was trying to show you on her phone. There it is, the reason everyone has been looking at you two funny; a series of photos from the series of photos you took last night, you and John in the bathroom with the medal around your neck, kissing and John’s shirt undone.

Quite the scandal.

“Oh my god.” You looked at the phone, and then John, and then back to the phone and back to John again. Sasha nodded, “it's out there now.. but based on that look on your face, I’m guessing those weren’t meant to be posted?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, John was already reaching for his phone. “I’ll delete them.”

Your hand rested on his, stopping him. “Don’t.. it's already out there. It's fine.”

John looked at you, “you’re sure?”

“100%”

He smiles at you just as the announcement plays over the speaker. “All Manchester City players and staff, please report to gate 3B for departure.”

You and Sasha walked them to the gate. The couple next to you were all wrapped up, whispering something to each other like it's the last time they’d see each other - they’d be reunited in a few hours.

John’s hand rests on your lower back, “I’ll see you at home?”

You nodded, a smile on your face. “I’ll see you at home.” He pulled you against him, your hand on his cheek when you kissed him. Foreheads pressed to each other’s, giggling like teenagers in love.

“Can you let go of her for a second?” Jack interrupted, “let me say bye to my friend?”

John rolls his eyes playfully, letting you go. You and Jack hugged goodbye for now, John and Sasha doing the same. “We’ll see you at home,” she called to them, the two of them waving from the tunnel.

You were about to walk away but John dropped his bag, running back to you. “What are you doing-” The man cuts you off with a kiss; very hallmark-esque of him.

“You’re gonna miss your flight,” you whispered to him.

“They won’t leave without me.” He smiles, giving you another kiss. You gave him a little push, sending him on his way.

You jogged to catch up with Sasha, the two of you heading off to get a coffee. The woman nudged you with her shoulder as you two stood in line. You look over at her and nod, waiting for her to say something.

“I’m glad you two finally came to your senses.” She smiled and you laughed.

“Yeah, me too.”

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