#fake id california

[dihalect]

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[my-supernatural-rewatch]

Episode One: Pilot

Dean Winchester in the pilot episode of Supernatural

So I'm most likely not going to get too deep into the weeds with the episode plots unless it's really important to what I'm writing about. But I'll give a synopsis if for no other reason than to remind myself.

After John Winchester witnesses his wife die in a supernatural event, he raises his infant son Sam and four-year-old son Dean in a life training like “warriors” to fight off the things that go bump in the night, hoping to find the entity that killed his wife in the process. Despite Sam's attempt to lead a normal life in college, he is drawn back into the supernatural world when Dean arrives to inform him that their father is missing. Following cryptic clues left in a disturbing voicemail from their father, the brothers journey to a small town where they confront a vengeful spirit known as the "Woman in White.”

From the get-go, Dean is already put-upon. We do get to see John be a soft dad for a moment when he walks into the bedroom, smiles at Dean and lets him jump into his arms, asking him if he thinks Sam is ready to start tossing around a football. Then things go dark and by the time John is on the floor staring at Mary burning into the ceiling, the softness is pretty much gone. To his credit, he stops freaking out about Mary long enough to grab the baby as Dean enters the bedroom...and then it starts.

After basically throwing the six-month-old at the four-year-old, John barks:

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

And Dean's lifetime of obligation to Sam's well-being begins with him reassuring the baby, "It's okay, Sammy."

(It will always irritate me that John, seeing Mary on the fucking CEILING burning up, didn't just grab both kids and run. What did he think he was going to do in those moments?)

To John's credit, he does end up hauling ass out of the house in time to grab Dean who runs out of the house and then, as a four-year-old would, just kind of stands there waiting for the house to explode on him and his brother.

The last time we see John in this episode, he's huddled with his sons watching his house burn down with a look on his face that relays he is not the same man we were introduced to earlier.

(Jeffrey Dean Morgan does a great job of conveying how John changed without all that much screen time or dialogue in this episode.)

And now here we are 22 years later and Sam is all grown up with a sexy and supportive girlfriend and ready to embark on his life in law school, probably on a free ride no less, because he aced the LSAT's and is such a smarty pants.

But, alas, here comes trouble. The reason all the Sam girls blame Sam's life turning out the way it did: big brother Dean.

There are a few things in the episode that they kind of hammer over your head, and the main one is what Dean's personality is supposed to be. He's established from the beginning as comedic relief. A bit of a wild card, and a bit of a lech. (I mean he practically drools while looking at Jessica, his brother's live-in girlfriend, while she's in her pajamas and basically hits on her right in front of Sam.)

The first thing he does is tell Sam he was looking for a beer. (Establishing his drinking habit.)

Which, now I'm going to digress for a moment. On two different occasions in this episode, Sam makes snide remarks about John drinking. Once to Dean when he says John is probably on the "Miller Time shift" and the other when he tells Jessica that John is probably in his cabin "with Jim, Jack, and Jose."

In the very first episode they establish John has a drinking problem. Do they ever pick back up on this? Guess I'm going to find out.

One other thing about Sam, while he and Dean are leaving the apartment to talk in private, they are talking, and Sam gets all the pertinent lines to let the viewers know what happened between us seeing John with the boys and Dean showing up at Sam's placel

This exposition is almost comical in its obviousness.

SAM: I swore I was done hunting. For good.

DEAN: Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.

SAM: Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a forty-five.

DEAN: Well, what was he supposed to do?

SAM: I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.

DEAN: Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there.

SAM: Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find.

DEAN: We save a lot of people doing it, too.

Listen, I get we need exposition but jeez this is... a lot.

Anyway, back to Dean.

We get the first reference to living an apple pie life from him, directed at Sam with as much disdain as he can muster. But then soon after, while still trying to convince Sam to go with him to find John, he reminds his brother that he has essentially left him alone for the last two years by saying:

"You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."

He left Sam alone because he wanted him to have that life. He wanted Sam to have a girlfriend, and an education, and a good job that didn't involve monsters. And you can't convince me differently.

That sincerity is what convinces Sam to go with Dean...it reinforced what he said to Sam earlier when Sam told him he could do it on his own. He looked down sheepishly and admitted:

"Yeah, well, I don't want to."

Many look at this as Dean already triggering codependency with Sam but I look at it as someone who spent the majority of their life taking care of their little brother and then making the difficult decision to let him go for those two years. Now the only family he had around him is missing and he wants his brother to help find him because, sure, he can do it on his own, but he wants family around him. Dean has always wanted family around him.

This is where I mention that there might be references to wincest in some of these posts. I personally do not see wincest in any of these episodes but there are some where fandom lore might come into play. I'm not planning on it, but it could happen.

And now:

Another Dean trait that is established in the pilot is his love for junkfood. Sam of course shows his usual disdain but, think about it, it makes perfect sense. Sam has just spent the last four years at Stanford with a goddamn meal plan while Dean is living out of motels and the Impala (not yet christened "Baby"). Of COURSE Dean is going to be living off of crap.

Sam's scorn for Dean scamming credit cards and listening to classic rock on cassette sets us up for 15 seasons of him judging Dean for both doing what he has to in order to survive and just enjoying things. For fuck's sake, the two songs in this episode are Back in Black and Highway to Hell. It was AC/DC. It's not like Dean was listening to ABBA and The Bay City Rollers.*

Sam is a judgy jackass from the very beginning and that is one thing that absolutely didn't change over time.

Sam's belief that he's superior to Dean is also reflected in the library when it is Dean initially doing the internet search and Sam forcefully takes over. I'm reminded watching this that the very first time I watched the pilot, I did so with three other women and we all decided early on if we were Sam or Dean girl's and three of us chose Dean. Sam being a consistent dildo to Dean in this episode was one of the reasons I chose Dean.

*I do not pop music shame and we find out later in the series that neither does Dean.

In the first scene on the bridge, long before he gets arrested, Dean shows a disdain for the cops and the FEDS that Sam obviously doesn't share. It's always been interesting to me how this changed over time most likely because Dean realized a lot of the time the cops could be more helpful than hurtful. I'll have to keep an eye on that too.

Another aspect of Dean's personality they establish in this episode that sticks with him for the duration of the series is his genuine desire to hunt the monsters and save people. He is determined to keep digging to figure out what is happening to the men who are disappearing, even though the idea was to be looking for their father. Meanwhile, Sam just wants to go back to Stanford.

While they discuss Sam returning to school, it is Dean who points out how unhealthy it is for Sam to lie to Jessica about who he is. When Sam was leaving to go with Dean, we see he still kept weapons at school. Weapons Jessica obviously didn't know about even while living with him. Sam has been deceitful his entire time in Stanford, much like Dean has to be in order to be a hunter. But Sam is deceiving people he knows and cares about while Dean deceives strangers, yet Sam is the one who thinks he holds the higher ground.

And then Sam's shittiness really comes into play when he basically complains about avenging Mary's death by saying that if it wasn't for pictures he wouldn't even know what Mary looked like and that finding the thing that killed her wouldn't bring her back.

It's clear in this scene that he's saying these things specifically to upset Dean - and boy does it work. Dean practically throws Sam off the bridge.

But he doesn't. Instead, the Women in White chases them across the bridge using the Impala as her weapon. And to remind us that Dean is there for comic relief, Dean ends up in the drink covered in mud and guck while Sam doesn't fall into the water and is still squeaky clean.

I really hate how they tried to force Dean to be Daffy fucking Duck or something and I'm glad it didn't last for too long.

After getting out of the guck, Dean screams that the Woman in White is a BITCH and it's a reminder that as much as I love this show, and make no mistake, I do, the fucking misogyny early on is really prevalent and fucking annoying. (I omitted writing about Dean calling Sam a bitch after Sam calls him a jerk because the jerk/bitch thing pissed me off from the first time I heard it and I choose not to relive it or dwell on it.)

We get our first "No chick flick moments" when all Sam tried to do was apologize for saying shitty things about their parents. It didn't work for me only in that an apology isn't exactly a chick flick moment but upon reflecton at that point in Dean's life ( 26-years-old and always having lived under John's thumb) an apology absolutely would seem like that...definitely a sign of weakness to John Winchester.

Dean getting picked up by the cops and quipping that the one thing about him that isn't fake is his boobs actually made me laugh out loud. Sure it's a comic relief bit again, but it's also quintessential Dean Winchester and I loved it.

Randomly, I loved the look on Dean's face when he saw John's journal. Really conveyed that something must be wrong if it was there but John wasn't. It also didn't go unnoticed by me that when Sam drives the car into the Woman in White's house, Dean is less concerned with the status of the car and much more concerned with Sam being okay. (Once it is established that Sam is okay, Dean tells him he'd have to kill him if he hurt the car...but his initial response was to worry about Sam.)

I loved the poetry of baby Sam getting bled on while Mary is on the ceiling at the beginning of the episode and adult Sam getting bled on while Jessica is on the ceiling near the end of the episode.

But more poetic? Dean having to be the one to take his brother to safety 22 years after he did it the first time. He's always going to be responsible for Sam no matter what goes on between them. And while I know a lot of people love that about the show, I think it's tragic.

Some notes for posterity:

They didn't have to do anything elaborate to get rid of their first monster. Sam literally just had to drive her home.

Sam turns into John at the end of this episode. From sweet boyfriend to vengeful man. They tried for years to make us think it was Dean who was more like John, but Dean nails it in a future episode when he tells Sam it's him, not Dean.

The significant music from this episode comes from AC/DC: Back in Black and Highway to Hell. Both great picks if not a bit obvious, Mr. Kripke. (Also "Ramblin' Man" by The Allman Brothers Band at the gas station)

The brothers pose as Federal Marshals in this episode but don't give names. When they speak to the victim's girlfriend, they pretend to be his uncles and give her their real first names without last names. And when Dean gets arrested, he tells the cop, who ends up deducing that his name is actually Dean, that is name is Ted Nugent.

This is the first episode in which Dean gets arrested

This is also the first episode in which Dean makes a movie reference "We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" (The film referenced is Deliverance)

And this is one of a handful of episodes where Sam drives the Impala without it being mentioned that it's odd for Sam to do so or that Dean doesn't want him to.

This hunt takes place in Jericho, California.

Dean grabs John's jacket from the abandoned motel room and wears it for the remainder of the episode.

We got a "Sam!" in this episode.

Recognizable Guest Stars in this episode: Steve Railsback and Sarah Shahi

[ooglywooglies]

the other thing about this income topic is middle class isnt fucking real youre either rich or youre poor

[notchainedtotrauma]

On The Subject Of Bots: A Former Bot Farm Operator Speaks On The Process (Also spread this video all over this website. I mean it. Spread it. For a whole set of reasons-one of them being antiblackness)

ID [ Close up of a woman in a car wearing a green shirt. She has a dark brown ponytail. She says: 'I'm a a former tech employee that created and sustained a bot farm between 2015 and 2018 in California USA.

Wanna give you guys some information because American bot farm operators are pretty rare. Most bot farms operate oversea. I don't know if there's anyone like me in the US that can tell you this stuff is what I'm saying.

I'm typically way secretive about this but it's gotten so bad I need to talk about it

So what is a bot farm ? Something that an individual or a company purchases. You get a set amount of bots that look like normal people, go out, and spread your message. And here's the work that goes ino that:

I as a operator have to create each individual fake person. I have to create a bio. I have to create a username, a real name, then I have to generate content that has to be supportive of the message the client is paying for.

Positive opinion of the company or the individual. If anyone has ever tried to create content (you know that) that takes time and also that takes ideas; it's not easy.

Finally you need to program these bots based on activity. Bots respond to what you do.

You think that you going around and liking things is invisible. It's not. You're leaving a footprint across the app. That footprint is tracked by people like me. So based on what other people like or comment on, I program my bot to go and search for those people, find them, and then interact with them with my content that supports the message that I created.

This programming also includes research to find the people that are the most susceptible to believing the message that you're selling, and targeting those people. This is just a scratch on the surface of what it takes to program one of these. And people are buying hundreds of them.

Now here's the interesting part. The software to run all these bots is not free. And the time that it takes to create all the things that I just told you about also not free. All of this stuff costs money.

And it represents money when you see it. If you're seeing non stop videos posted with a certain agenda, someone's paying for that. So when you see a dump/ a ton of media that's telling you all the same message, do not say wow what a thing happening right now.

Please instead say wow who's trying to buy my opinion on this topic ?

End of the video ] End of ID

[dennisboobs]

it mmmmmight be these for maureen

WAIT has anyone brought up the note on the calendar in making dennis reynolds a murderer that says "pick up meds"??

i'm assuming it's the calendar for paddy's bc of "charlie work" (obviously written by charlie) and "pay day," but why would someone write "pick up meds" on it? and do we know anyone else who has been prescribed meds besides dennis? i mean frank did in sweet dee has a heart attack for like one episode but we don't hear of him taking anti-anxiety meds again right? it's most likely dennis' handwriting anyway because we know he writes his d's with that little loop:

and that's not just him writing in cursive bc d's in cursive don't even have that loop. so is he actually taking the meds prescribed to him by that psychiatrist? regularly?? and putting it on a calendar for everyone to see?? that seems unlikely but I can't think of another explanation...

(but also what's the "key drop off" for?? maybe they're just writing generic shit on a calendar? but no I think rcg would be deliberate ab what they put on there even if it's just shown for a second) (EDIT: it says keg drop off. whoops)

if someone has noticed/thought about this pls lmk what you think the pick up meds means !!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

No, Uber's (still) not profitable

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Bezzle (n): 1. "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it" (JK Gabraith) 2. Uber.

Uber was, is, and always will be a bezzle. There are just intrinsic limitations to the profits available to operating a taxi fleet, even if you can misclassify your employees as contractors and steal their wages, even as you force them to bear the cost of buying and maintaining your taxis.

The magic of early Uber – when taxi rides were incredibly cheap, and there were always cars available, and drivers made generous livings behind the wheel – wasn't magic at all. It was just predatory pricing.

Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar they brought in, lighting $33b of its investors' cash on fire. Most of that money came from the Saudi royals, funneled through Softbank, who brought you such bezzles as WeWork – a boring real-estate company masquerading as a high-growth tech company, just as Uber was a boring taxi company masquerading as a tech company.

Predatory pricing used to be illegal, but Chicago School economists convinced judges to stop enforcing the law on the grounds that predatory pricing was impossible because no rational actor would choose to lose money. They (willfully) ignored the obvious possibility that a VC fund could invest in a money-losing business and use predatory pricing to convince retail investors that a pile of shit of sufficient size must have a pony under it somewhere.

This venture predation let investors – like Prince Bone Saw – cash out to suckers, leaving behind a money-losing business that had to invent ever-sweatier accounting tricks and implausible narratives to keep the suckers on the line while they blew town. A bezzle, in other words:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber is a true bezzle innovator, coming up with all kinds of fairy tales and sci-fi gimmicks to explain how they would convert their money-loser into a profitable business. They spent $2.5b on self-driving cars, producing a vehicle whose mean distance between fatal crashes was half a mile. Then they paid another company $400 million to take this self-licking ice-cream cone off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Amazingly, self-driving cars were among the more plausible of Uber's plans. They pissed away hundreds of millions on California's Proposition 22 to institutionalize worker misclassification, only to have the rule struck down because they couldn't be bothered to draft it properly. Then they did it again in Massachusetts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/15/simple-as-abc/#a-big-ask

Remember when Uber was going to plug the holes in its balance sheet with flying cars? Flying cars! Maybe they were just trying to soften us up for their IPO, where they advised investors that the only way they'd ever be profitable is if they could replace every train, bus and tram ride in the world:

https://48hills.org/2019/05/ubers-plans-include-attacking-public-transit/

Honestly, the only way that seems remotely plausible is when it's put next to flying cars for comparison. I guess we can be grateful that they never promised us jetpacks, or, you know, teleportation. Just imagine the market opportunity they could have ascribed to astral projection!

Narrative capitalism has its limits. Once Uber went public, it had to produce financial disclosures that showed the line going up, lest the bezzle come to an end. These balance-sheet tricks were as varied as they were transparent, but the financial press kept falling for them, serving as dutiful stenographers for a string of triumphant press-releases announcing Uber's long-delayed entry into the league of companies that don't lose more money every single day.

One person Uber has never fooled is Hubert Horan, a transportation analyst with decades of experience who's had Uber's number since the very start, and who has done yeoman service puncturing every one of these financial "disclosures," methodically sifting through the pile of shit to prove that there is no pony hiding in it.

In 2021, Horan showed how Uber had burned through nearly all of its cash reserves, signaling an end to its subsidy for drivers and rides, which would also inevitably end the bezzle:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/10/unter/#bezzle-no-more

In mid, 2022, Horan showed how the "profit" Uber trumpeted came from selling off failed companies it had acquired to other dying rideshare companies, which paid in their own grossly inflated stock:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

At the end of 2022, Horan showed how Uber invented a made-up, nonstandard metric, called "EBITDA profitability," which allowed them to lose billions and still declare themselves to be profitable, a lie that would have been obvious if they'd reported their earnings using Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Like clockwork, Uber has just announced – once again – that it is profitable, and once again, the press has credulously repeated the claim. So once again, Horan has published one of his magisterial debunkings on Naked Capitalism:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/08/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-thirty-three-uber-isnt-really-profitable-yet-but-is-getting-closer-the-antitrust-case-against-uber.html

Uber's $394m gains this quarter come from paper gains to untradable shares in its loss-making rivals – Didi, Grab, Aurora – who swapped stock with Uber in exchange for Uber's own loss-making overseas divisions. Yes, it's that stupid: Uber holds shares in dying companies that no one wants to buy. It declared those shares to have gained value, and on that basis, reported a profit.

Truly, any big number multiplied by an imaginary number can be turned into an even bigger number.

Now, Uber also reported "margin improvements" – that is, it says that it loses less on every journey. But it didn't explain how it made those improvements. But we know how the company did it: they made rides more expensive and cut the pay to their drivers. A 2.9m ride in Manhattan is now $50 – if you get a bargain! The base price is more like $70:

https://www.wired.com/story/uber-ceo-will-always-say-his-company-sucks/

The number of Uber drivers on the road has a direct relationship to the pay Uber offers those drivers. But that pay has been steeply declining, and with it, the availability of Ubers. A couple weeks ago, I found myself at the Burbank train station unable to get an Uber at all, with the app timing out repeatedly and announcing "no drivers available."

Normally, you can get a yellow taxi at the station, but years of Uber's predatory pricing has caused a drawdown of the local taxi-fleet, so there were no taxis available at the cab-rank or by dispatch. It took me an hour to get a cab home. Uber's bezzle destroyed local taxis and local transit – and replaced them with worse taxis that cost more.

Uber won't say why its margins are improving, but it can't be coming from scale. Before the pandemic, Uber had far more rides, and worse margins. Uber has diseconomies of scale: when you lose money on every ride, adding more rides increases your losses, not your profits.

Meanwhile, Lyft – Uber's also-ran competitor – saw its margins worsen over the same period. Lyft has always been worse at lying about it finances than Uber, but it is in essentially the exact same business (right down to the drivers and cars – many drivers have both apps on their phones). So Lyft's financials offer a good peek at Uber's true earnings picture.

Lyft is actually slightly better off than Uber overall. It spent less money on expensive props for its long con – flying cars, robotaxis, scooters, overseas clones – and abandoned them before Uber did. Lyft also fired 24% of its staff at the end of 2022, which should have improved its margins by cutting its costs.

Uber pays its drivers less. Like Lyft, Uber practices algorithmic wage discrimination, Veena Dubal's term describing the illegal practice of offering workers different payouts for the same work. Uber's algorithm seeks out "pickers" who are choosy about which rides they take, and converts them to "ants" (who take every ride offered) by paying them more for the same job, until they drop all their other gigs, whereupon the algorithm cuts their pay back to the rates paid to ants:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

All told, wage theft and wage cuts by Uber transferred $1b/quarter from labor to Uber's shareholders. Historically, Uber linked fares to driver pay – think of surge pricing, where Uber charged riders more for peak times and passed some of that premium onto drivers. But now Uber trumpets a custom pricing algorithm that is the inverse of its driver payment system, calculating riders' willingness to pay and repricing every ride based on how desperate they think you are.

This pricing is a per se antitrust violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act, America's original antitrust law. That's important because Sherman 2 is one of the few antitrust laws that we never stopped enforcing, unlike the laws banning predator pricing:

https://ilr.law.uiowa.edu/sites/ilr.law.uiowa.edu/files/2023-02/Woodcock.pdf

Uber claims an 11% margin improvement. 6-7% of that comes from algorithmic price discrimination and service cutbacks, letting it take 29% of every dollar the driver earns (up from 22%). Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi himself says that this is as high as the take can get – over 30%, and drivers will delete the app.

Uber's food delivery service – a baling wire-and-spit Frankenstein's monster of several food apps it bought and glued together – is a loser even by the standards of the sector, which is unprofitable as a whole and experiencing an unbroken slide of declining demand.

Put it all together and you get a picture of the kind of taxi company Uber really is: one that charges more than traditional cabs, pays drivers less, and has fewer cars on the road at times of peak demand, especially in the neighborhoods that traditional taxis had always underserved. In other words, Uber has broken every one of its promises.

We replaced the "evil taxi cartel" with an "evil taxi monopolist." And it's still losing money.

Even if Lyft goes under – as seems inevitable – Uber can't attain real profitability by scooping up its passengers and drivers. When you're losing money on every ride, you just can't make it up in volume.

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/09/accounting-gimmicks/#unter

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[gurugirl]

Mint Chocolate Chip | Check-in 9*

Summary: Based on this ask. You and Harry take a much needed vacation.

A/N: Enjoy this smutty fun beach vaca featuring a bit of jealousrry. 6k words (went a little overboard).

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, this is kidnapper!harry x reader and so this might not be your thing, smut, possessiveness and jealousy, punishment, and plenty of fluff.

Mint Chocolate Chip Masterlist

Harry had gotten spooked pretty badly when you were recognized at the restaurant and then when you both saw your face on the news on your birthday. He knew you would just tell anyone who questioned you that you were with him willingly. But that didn’t make him feel a whole lot better about it. He didn’t like the questions or the prying. You two had been in your little bubble in his house for long enough that you’d both gotten used to the way things were.

But he couldn’t keep you trapped inside forever.

Well, actually he could if he wanted. He had all the means to do it and he had your complicity. Your loyalty.

And in many ways that all appealed to him. Locking you inside and never letting you out again after that disaster of a dinner outing and knowing your face had been on the news and people were looking for you.

Making you happy, though, was also important to him. You’d proven your devotion to him. You weren’t going anywhere. You had many chances to break free and run away during the random days when he was not in the house for hours at a time. You were allowed in the backyard and could even simply unlock the front door and walk away. But you were always there waiting for him when he returned.

Which was why he wanted to show you his gratitude.

It was time to take you on a vacation. To a place somewhere you could both be out in the open and where no one would recognize you.

He’d researched places and vacation types. States with pretty mountains and cabin retreats. Beaches in California and Florida.

“What do you like better? Going to the beach? Or like a big city? Mountains?”

You looked up from the book you were reading. You had her legs draped over Harry’s thighs as you rested on the couch after dinner. He had been intently looking at something on his phone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean for vacation. You and me. I was thinking we could go somewhere for a week. What do you like best for a vacation?” Harry reworded.

You put your book down and slid your legs off Harry, sitting up straight as youx` faced him, “You want to take me on a vacation?”

“Of course, I do. Think it would be good for us both.”

The idea of going on a vacation with Harry worried you a little. You definitely would have enjoyed laying on a beach somewhere with him and eating seafood under a palapa but you were worried about being spotted. About Harry getting upset or nervous. Honestly, you worried more about him than you did yourself, which was crazy when you thought about that with a rational mind.

“Um… I would love to go to a beach. See the ocean. But how can we do that?”

Harry knew you couldn’t fly anywhere. He was certain the moment you got to the airport and checked in your name would be flagged in the system and the police would be called. He considered getting you a fake ID and passport but the vacation idea had been spontaneous and he didn’t have that much time to put something together like that.

“We’d take a road trip. Rent a small beach house or something.”

“A road trip. To a beach somewhere. Okay. I like the sound of that.”

.           .           .

Between you and Harry, you both found a beautiful small beach in Northern California and picked a one-bedroom beach house on Airbnb, not right on the beach, but across the street and up a path. It was an eight-hour drive away, but it would be fun, and you two planned on stopping at the small diners and antique shops along the way.

You had it all mapped out. The spots you’d stop at if you had time, the route that took you to a mom-and-pop hamburger spot that had glowing reviews, a nearby small-town museum you could pop into, and a lake with hiking trails to stretch your legs.

When you arrived in Cloverdale the first stop was the hamburger dive. It was cute. You both stretched as you climbed out of the vehicle and Harry looked so… young… unbothered. You hadn’t seen him look like this ever. Perhaps it was the fact that he could be out with you and not have to worry at all. That he wasn’t keeping you in his house as his captive. It was as if something had been lifted. He’d been unburdened.

You slid your hand into his and stood on your tiptoes to kiss his chin, “I’m hungry. How about you?”

The burgers were good but the tater tots were the star of the meal. Both you and Harry agreed. You got a vanilla milkshake with strawberry topping stirred in and Harry got an iced coffee.

You skipped the museum but decided on a quick peek at the park with the lake and the trails.

It felt nice to be on your feet and walking around outside. The town was beautiful and the little park hidden at the center was cute and maybe even nicer than the photos you’d seen online.

The last few hours to the beach house were peaceful. The traffic was nearly nonexistent. You could feel the last bits of stress and anxiety fall away and Harry’s sudden demeanor lightened even more.

The house was cute. It was in a small neighborhood with a handful of other small houses. A trail at the end of the road led you down to the beach and the ocean could be seen from the living room window.

But before you could really get into vacation mode it was necessary to get some groceries. The house had all the basics already. Coffee, salt, oil, water, and even a bottle of wine from one of the nearby vineyards, courtesy of the host.

The small shop up the road had everything you needed. You perused the wines while Harry loaded the basket with food you two might want during your week. You’d planned on going out to eat as well, but much of your time would be spent lounging on the beach and sleeping in, according to Harry.

“That’s my favorite one. It’s a good price too,” you heard a voice from behind you as you were looking down at a bottle of a red blend. You turned to find a young man looking over your shoulder.

You lifted the bottle up, “Really? Well, then I guess I’ll add this to the basket,” you said with a smile as you placed it in your small cart.

“Lots of good wineries around here. We’re pretty proud of the grapes that come from this area. You new here or just passing through?”

“Oh, just sort of passing through. Staying for a week just a few blocks away. Small beach vacation.”

“Interesting. Not many people choose this town for a beach vacation. What made you choose it?”

“Um… well it just seemed so quant and nice. Plus all the vineyards nearby and trails.”

“You’ll be around for a week? Where are you staying?”

You shot your gaze toward Harry who was already looking at you from the other side of the small shop with an unreadable expression, “Yeah. A week. Just got in today. And, uh, me and my boyfriend are staying not too far from here. Rented an Airbnb close to the beach.”

The young man’s brows raised, “Ahh… I wasn’t sure if he was a boyfriend or uncle…” he laughed quietly. You frowned.

Harry was a bit older than you but you didn’t imagine he looked like an uncle. And you were already losing your patience with the guy. He hadn’t done anything wrong but you weren’t used to small talk with strangers anymore. The guy was grating.

Suddenly Harry’s warm hand was on your shoulder as he pulled you into himself. His other arm reached around your frame and held it out to the young man, “I’m Harry, this is my girlfriend, Y/n. You are?”

The guy grinned and reached out to grasp Harry’s hand in a shake that seemed far too aggressive and you weren’t sure if the jostle of the shake came from Harry’s end or the other’s.

“Chris. Nice to meet you both,” his hand fell back down to his side as Harry brought his other palm up to your arm, holding you a bit possessively, “I was just sharing with Y/n here about the great wineries we’ve got nearby. Some of the best wine in the world comes from this region.”

“Is that so? We’ll be sure to enjoy some of the best wines during our stay here then. But, we do have to be going so… It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Harry pulled you away and guided you to the register to buy everything. You hadn’t experienced Harry being jealous before. You’d never had the opportunity. And you weren’t sure that that was what that was just now but you also weren’t dumb. You knew Harry was very possessive of you.

On the car ride back you picked a radio station and pulled a bottle of wine from the bag, “Can’t wait to crack this one open. Says it’s reminiscent of strawberries straight off the vine,” you read from the label.

Harry smiled at you and nodded, “Yeah that does sound good. We can drink it on the beach if you want. I’m ready to get my toes in the sand.”

So that’s just what you did. You put your bathing suits on and stuffed a bag with towels and the bottle of wine before walking up the trail to the lovely sandy beach and finding a spot to toss your towels and uncork the bottle.

The sun was already beginning to set and the wind had picked up but it was still nice and balmy. The backdrop of the waves crashing and birds soaring above, the smell of the ocean, and a few stragglers walking in the distance felt very much like you were living in a romantic movie.

Harry handed you the bottle of wine and you laughed, realizing you both forgot cups or glasses but also just tossing aside concern for that small detail. You brought the bottle up to your lips and took a drink of the red blend, which turned out, your pallet was not quite sensitive enough to pick up a single strawberry-from-the-vine note the label boasted.

You looked back down at the bottle as you gulped the red liquid down your throat and pointed at the label, “Tastes nothing like strawberry. But it’s good.” You smiled as you handed the bottle to Harry who mimicked you in putting the bottle to his lips to take a drink.

He laughed as he brought the bottle down and shook his head, “It’s like those wine tasters who put in notes of pencil shaving and charred almonds. I never taste those sorts of things. Just tastes like…” you both grinned and said the word “wine!” in unison as you laughed.

Despite the lack of strawberry flavor the bottle of wine, Harry’s company, and the sand under your toes felt incredible.

Harry pulled you into his chest so you were sitting between his legs and had your back against him. The whole scene was romantic. You were outside on the beach with a bottle of wine in your lover’s arms as you watched the sunset slowly until the sky was pink and purple and orange on the horizon.

Harry nipped at your neck and sighed making you giggle and pull away but he held you tight and laughed into your neck, “So, Chris was awfully friendly. What did he say to you before I got there?”

You rolled your eyes but kept the grin on your face, “He was just talking about the vineyards and the wine. Recommended this one,” you said as you tapped the empty bottle, “Asked why we chose this spot for vacation. That was it really.”

“So he’s nosey. And he has questionable taste in wine.”

You snickered and shook your head to turn and look at him, “Were you jealous?”

Harry squinted his eyes at you and licked his lips before looking out toward the ocean, “Of course not.”

You leaned back into him and smiled. He definitely was.

.           .           .

When you walked back to the little house up the trail Harry kept hold of your hand. You hadn’t had many moments with him away from his house. Having him holding your hand and keeping you steady as you stepped carefully over the small rocks and the sand along the dark trail made you feel like you did when you were a kid. It was fun and the darkness was exciting. But it also gave you a sense of safety with his hand wrapped around yours as he led you carefully through the path. But there was also the fact that you’d had half a bottle of wine.

“I’m already having so much fun, Harry,” you said as you entered the house and Harry sat the bag down next to the door.

Harry smirked and locked the door, grabbing your hips and pulling you in, his wine-stained mouth connected to yours in haste. You hadn’t expected it at all. He had been quiet the whole way back, which wasn’t out of the norm for him. Harry wasn’t much of a talker, you did well to fill in the silence with your near-constant rambling. But still, you hadn’t thought he’d be all over you the moment you stepped into the door.

“Let’s go test out that bed,” he spoke quietly and turned you around to walk you toward the bedroom.

Now, the thing was that your sex drive was high. For Harry it was. You were sure that no one else could make you feel the way he did. Obviously, you were a virgin before you met him but he was so good at what he did and the way he made you feel, the way you’d get wet for him in an instant, just the way he trained you, you were usually begging him for his come every night. He liked to act as if he was aloof or didn’t need it because he loved to watch you squirm, hear you beg…

But tonight was different. He wanted you and he was being quite handsy suddenly. Needy even, you’d say. He was already hard in his shorts when he put you on the bed and pulled your bathing suit off.

He gave you little preamble before pasting his lips to your cunt and bringing you to your first orgasm for the night. He made it messy and noisy too. His moans vibrated off your body and sounded through the room as he fed from your pussy. His fingers and hand were drenched and he wiped his face through your folds until he was coated in your arousal from the bridge of his nose to the bottom of his chin. You were breathless and shivering as you called his name.

And you had no time to recover before he was wrecking your insides with his long cock. The bed rocked under his thrusts and his dirty words were whispered into the room, “My pussy, my girl… no one gets to have this. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You gasped and nodded, unable to form words when your lungs were searching for air from the way he pounded into you, punching into your guts and rendering you a breathy mess under him.

“S’right. My little girl. All these holes are mine to come inside.”

You weren’t in the head space to think about what he was saying. You just knew that yes, you were his. Your holes were his.

But Harry was making a point. He knew he didn’t need to but his jealousy and possessiveness got the best of him when he thought about the way Chris tried talking to you. And he saw the way the guy looked at you. Harry wasn’t dumb. He knows the look.

“Tell me pup,” Harry spoke his words in gasps as he moved in and out of your beautifully tight and warm pussy, “Who do you belong to?”

Your words came out in punched breaths, “You! Harry! I… only you!”

The way Harry was dipping in deep and fast felt so yummy. You loved how he felt when he was connected to you. You imagined that his cock inside of you was like some kind of Lego piece to your little Lego piece. As odd as that sounded – it made sense in your brain. Every time he was inside of you the pieces fit together so nicely and made something even better than they were before. Something bigger. Something complete.

“Fuck, pup! You’re so good. So fucking sweet and you’re all mine. Gonna breed you, baby. Want my babies, pup?”

Harry had been hinting a bit lately. More often than not lately. You didn’t know if it was a heat of the moment kind of thing or if he really wanted to knock you up. But you would happily be a mother to his children if he wanted. And while he was railing you deep with his big cock making you braindead you especially loved that idea.

“Yeah… uhghhh! Yes! Fuck!!” His pounding didn’t let up and the bed underneath only got louder as the springs danced under your back. The thud of Harry’s heavy balls to your skin was wet and you could feel them pressing into you each time he bottomed out.

“M’gonna make you a mommy. Fuck my come into your womb and no one can have you when they see you pregnant with my babies.”

You panted and felt sweat at your temple. Harry’s words were tight and grunted as he spoke between heavy thrusts.

“It’s so deep! Harry!!” It was deep. It felt especially sharp and achy with the way he was punishing your pussy with his cock. But you could handle it. You’d handled him going in harder many times.

Every plunge and smack of skin, the squeak of the mattress, and panted words and gasps only got louder as Harry neared his end. His moans were beautiful. You loved making him feel good like this. Loved when he came inside of you and orgasmed because your pussy felt so good. Because he loved you so much.

“Better feel your pussy squeezing around me again, pup. Come on, baby. Fucking come all over me,” Harry clenched his jaw as he spoke, holding himself back. He wanted one more from you. Selfishly he liked knowing he could make you come over and over again so you knew how good he could take care of you in the way no one else could. And also because he loved how you felt when your pussy spasmed around his cock as he came, the way you milked him and his balls drained into his cock and poured into your body as you shivered and pulsed around his throbbing dick.

Your ears began to ring as you started to come again. Harry’s thick tip was continuously poking into your little spot on the inside that made your toes curl and that did you in. The stretch and the deep thrusts into your soft aching little part on the inside had you shaking and shouting his name in orgasm.

Harry saw stars as he finally allowed himself to drain into you, fucking himself in as deep as possible so his come would stick and get in deep, his wide crown pushing it up into your guts. Your slick, hot walls wrung his cock out like a rag, making all of her sperm drip into you with each pulse and contraction from your little muscle. He was rendered silent as he felt himself being siphoned by you. His mouth hung open and he trembled over you, his arms barely holding himself up, his thighs quivering… he hadn’t realized he’d been so on edge. He was responding to your pussy the way you responded to his cock.

And of course, the rest of the night was sweet and soft. Harry helped you clean up and doted on you. You both lay together on the couch and watched TV as you faced Harry so you could watch him. You loved looking at him and rubbing your hands over his tattooed chest and upward to the scruff on his neck and face. You kissed his nipples and sighed to yourself about how lucky you felt as you fell asleep in his arms.

The next few days were all spent in the dizzying heat on the sand and splashing around in the ocean a little. The waves were strong so you didn’t go in too deep, at Harry’s urging, “Don’t want you to get hurt, pup. Stay close to the shallow parts.”

You visited a vineyard attached to a winery and bought a case of wine that you both loved to bring back home with you. And every night the sex was filled with lots of dirty talk of getting you knocked up and making you a mommy.

But last night, Harry had gone easy on you. He didn’t pound into you or make you sore all over like he often did. No spankings or hair pulling. He fucked you sweet and slow and kept his cock stuffed inside of you until he’d long softened in order to make it stick. Make the come stay inside and get you where he wanted you.

So that meant that today you were feeling extra spicy. A soft fucking sometimes meant you turned into a bit of a brat afterward or the following day. There was something in you that needed the brutal fuckings in order to keep you subdued.

You were on the towel and pulled your bikini top off as you laid flat on your tummy so you could get a tan on your back but Harry swatted your bottom as he hovered over you possessively, “What the fuck are you doing, pup? Want everyone to see your tits?”

You giggled and looked up at the man, “Just needed a nice tan. Don’t worry. You’re the only one that gets to see the front, Harry. Don’t be so boring.”

Harry scoffed. He was anything but boring and you knew it. But he knew the game you were playing.

He looked around and the beach was mostly empty. There were some people in the distance but no one would see what he was about to do.

“Boring?” He said as he yanked you up by your arm, your tits out. He pulled you into his lap and draped you across his thighs as he pulled your bikini bottoms down just enough that he could spank you hard.

You grinned as you yelped at each of his rough smacks and felt your backside burn from the sensitive skin of your bottom getting a beating. You kicked your legs and turned to look at Harry, “Hey! I don’t deser-“Your back talk was cut short when he issued you another spanking.

“You deserve exactly what I give you,” another strike to the exposed flesh of your ass, “Went too soft last night and now you’re acting like a little terror.”

You put your face into the crook of your arm as Harry continued punishing you right there on the beach with your tits bare against the towel, small granules of sand covering your damp skin.

When he felt you were finally somewhat mellowed he lifted you up and handed you your bikini top.

“Put this back on right now or we’re going back to the house.”

As if that were a punishment for you. He’d only gotten you even more worked up with the spankings and now your nipples were hard and your pussy was wet. You bit your lip and gave him a look of challenge but you put your bikini top on. Your ass couldn’t handle another swat. You were sure of it.

But now the problem was you couldn’t sit on your bottom at all over the towel and the small bits of sand were irritating your rear.

“I’ve got to go get into the water for just a bit. Come with me.” You stood up and gave Harry your sweetest puppy dog eyes.

Harry shook his head, “Gonna stay right here. You go on. But don’t go in too deep.”

As you walked away Harry became very aware of how red your ass and your thighs were. Your bikini bottoms covered the most severe markings but the parts that were exposed were very obviously red and spanked. He rolled his eyes, hoping no one saw what he had.

Once you got into the ocean and let the cool water soothe your bottom you turned to look back at Harry and waved at him and then stuck your tongue out. You didn’t know why you’d done it. You were just in a mood. You needed him to obliterate you since it was your last full day. Something about being on vacation and being in public with him really did something to you. Made you feel naughty and liberated all at once. You were having a really good time on your little getaway. It was just what you both had needed.

“Water’s great today!” You heard a familiar voice and turned your head to see Chris.

“It really is! The waves aren’t too crazy either. Haven’t really been able to get in too deep.”

Chris walked into the water toward you with a grin on his face, “Oh no? Are you not used to swimming in the ocean? There’s a technique you know.”

You shook your head, “No. Haven’t swum much in the ocean. The waves are so strong that they pull me under,” you laughed as you lowered your bottom half down to let the water submerge up to your rib cage.

“I could teach you. It’s not too difficult. Just some basic rules for when the waves are coming at you. It’ll make you safer in the water too.”

“Oh… well. Okay!” You looked out to where Harry was and realized he was lying flat on his back. He hadn’t even noticed that Chris was talking to you. You smiled to yourself just knowing that when he realized you were out here with him he’d probably come out into the water with you finally.

Chris gave you an example as a small wave came ashore jumping into it as it neared and explained how the timing was important. He held your hand to help you jump into the waves so you got the feel for how you should be moving into the water.

“Okay, now let’s do it a little more in the shallow so the waves feel stronger. You’ll see.”

You followed him closer toward the shore and you could feel the waves more intensely.

Suddenly Chris’s chattering stopped, “Are you… okay? Did you get dragged on your butt in the sand from the waves?” He seemed genuinely worried about the state of your bottom.

You laughed and nodded. Actually, that was a great excuse. You kind of wanted to tell him that your lover had just spanked you for being a brat but you were sure Harry would hate that, “Yes. Like I said. I am not a strong swimmer so I got taken down in the water to the sand on my butt.” You laughed.

Chris squinted and you realized he was inspecting your bottom a bit too closely when suddenly you heard Harry, both of you turning to see the tall man with broad shoulders stomping his way toward you. Uh oh.

“Let’s go. We need to get some lunch.” Harry fumed.

“Oh, but Chris is just showing me how to swim in the ocean properly. He’s just trying to help me stay safe.”

Harry did not like this one bit. He didn’t like that Chris had been ogling your backside with his red handprints all over, or that he was near you in the ocean at all. And that he was acting as if he was trying to protect you somehow. That was Harry’s job.

“Is he now? And what’s the best way to go about that, Chris?” Harry said as he began to slosh into the water nearing you until he was at your side in the water, “Because from what I just saw you were more so staring at her bottom. Is that how you show her to stay safe?”

Chris’s eyes got wide as he shook his head, “No! Of course not! She told me that she’d gotten taken down by a wave and that her butt hit the sand. I was just concerned because that’s really a lot,” he cleared his throat keeping his eyes on Harry.

“Your concern is noted. Now,” he looked back down at you, putting his hands at your shoulders and leading you out of the water, “Let’s get going before the waves take you down again, pup.”

You smiled and waved at Chris, “Bye! Thank you so much for trying to help keep me safe,” twisting the proverbial knife in just a bit more. You knew Harry would be fuming by the time you two got back into the house.

And he was. But fuming might have been an understatement. It was the first time Harry’d had to deal with such a thing with you.

When the door was locked, Harry kept his hands at your shoulders as he spoke into your ear with seething wrath, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why don’t you behave when I fuck you softly? Hmm? You need to be treated like a slutty brat when I fuck you don’t you? Need to be smacked around a little?”

Harry let go of you as he pushed you down to your knees and lowered his swim trunks just enough that his cock was out.

“Suck til I’m hard then I’m gonna treat you like you the way you seem to want.”

You nodded and smirked as you began working on his cock, spitting and licking and sucking all around him. He grew hard in your mouth and hands fast. His length was always a shock to you when you saw it up close. Harry’s dick was big. But that was part of what made you love having him fuck you. You loved being wrecked by him.

When you began to bob over him, spit covering his cock to his base he gathered your hair up and pushed you down on him, holding you in place with both hands, “Mouth needs bruised just like your bottom,” he groaned as he filled your tight throat, causing your eyes to water with your nose brushing into his pelvis.

You grabbed onto his thighs as he began to slowly roll his hips into you. He bit his lip and closed his eyes to just feel you. He didn’t want to give you the pleasure of hearing him moan.

The way he was fucking your mouth wasn’t too out of the ordinary. Though he normally was a bit more vocal you figured it was part of the punishment you knew you deserved. You gurgled and gagged around him as he continued stuffing himself into you and you knew to just take it.

When he pulled out you gasped and swallowed but then leaned forward to put him back in your mouth but he only pulled your hair harder to keep your lips off of him. He pulled you up by your hair and then pushed you against the couch, so you were bent over the arm with your red bottom facing up.

The sudden movements were unexpected but the moment he buried himself into your pussy, splitting you in half you sighed and cooed at him, “Fuck me. God yes!”

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. You were incorrigible. Impossible to correct at times. But fuck if he didn’t love you and the way you took him.

He gave you no mercy as he began railing you deep, the couch being pushed the slightest and banging into the wall, “You don’t get to come. You’re only here to hold my sperm and take your punishment. Maybe then you’ll turn into a good girl.”

His hand held you down by the back of your head into the cushion as he continued bucking into your pussy, reaching deep into your tummy. The delicious sound of wet cunt being fucked and stuffed repeatedly had your head spinning. You could record the sound of yourself getting railed and get off on that alone.

Harry pushed his fingers into your hair to grip harder and put his other hand at your low back to keep you down as you kept arching your back and trying to push yourself onto him harder. You wanted it harder.

Harry finally let out a choked groan as he felt you clench hard and watched his cock fuck into you. He would never grow tired of fucking your little pussy and watching your soft skin turn red from his fingers and spankings. Your face was smushed into the couch but he could see your mouth was wide open and your eyes were shut. He loved that you loved it.

Suddenly he lifted you up by your hair so he could speak filth into your ear, “Little slutty wet hole all f’me. Puppy wants my come and my cock all the fucking time. Isn’t that right?”

You tried nodding but his grip was tight as his chest was pressed into your back, his hips rolling into you in punishing thrusts.

“Gonna come inside of your cunt and over and over again until we leave tomorrow. Teach you a lesson about being needy and slutty. Always soaked for me and begging to be stuffed full,” his words came out in gasps and you could tell he was about to come.

You sighed and licked your lips as you let him use you for his pleasure, happy to take whatever he gave you.

When his grip tightened harshly at your hair and his wet lips licked your ear he moaned and jerked his hips into you, his balls pressed against you tightly as he throbbed and pumped his come into your tummy.

He breathed hard and pulled his other arm around your middle as he held you close to his chest, filling you to the brim with his sperm.

You hissed when his cock reached into you so deep and he kept himself submerged in that achy spot, never letting up pushing into you. It felt as if he was going to tear your pussy in two for a moment.

As he came down, his harsh grip on your hair and around your middle loosened as he lowered you back to the couch and finally pulled himself out.

You lay quietly and sweetly as you caught your breath. You hadn’t come, of course, but you were certainly feeling the flow of endorphins from making Harry come.

And just like always, he tenderly helped you clean up, kissed you, and spoke to you as if you were the best thing he’d ever had, “Took it like a good girl. Such a soft little pussy, but even better is that I get you and your pretty eyes and these beautiful lips. What would I do without you? Huh?”

“I love you, Harry.”

Harry grinned as he smoothed his hands over your naked body, “I know pup. I love you too.”

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[varpusvaras]

Jason gets his new ID card on a Thursday.

It's somehow simultaneously completely unremarkable, and also making his head reel. It's not even the first new, official ID card he has had in his hands - he needed one for the licence, after all, so he'd got one then - but it's still new in every way possible.

Jason turns the card around a couple of times, just to make sure that it's real. It is. New and shiny, with his own face looking back at him from the front. His face is also somehow the same old and completely new at the same time. It is very much him, in the picture, but Jason feels like he is looking at his long lost twin brother rather than at himself. His hair is freshly cut, completely black. His skin is tanned more than it has been in years, from spending a lot of time under the California sun during the past few weeks. He is wearing a light blue button-down shirt, one that Jason wouldn't usually never be caught in publicly.

It is him, still.

Jason is pretty sure he shouldn't have gotten neither of his new, official state-issued ID's so fast, or gotten everything else sorted out so quick either, but Roy has his own ways of doing things. This is the one time his previous government-connections came in handy, he had said after Jason had said yes, and then he had kissed Jason on the forehead and told him not to worry about it.

Jason had let Roy take care of it all. Doing things for others is how he shows affection, and Jason had felt that Roy had needed to take care of Jason even more than Jason had needed Roy to take care of him. Not that Jason is complaining about it. He still feels a bit untethered, and most things are taking entirely too much out of him, either physically or mentally, though Jason is not sure which is which most of the time.

Not that it really matters.

He finally turns his eyes away from his picture to what is written on the rest of the card. His birthday is correct, for once, since this is an official card and not a fake one for whatever purpose Jason had needed one over the years. His address is also on the card, and Jason cannot help but feel a sense of elevation for it. It makes him feel a little stupid. It's an address (Roy's address, their address, Jason officially lives there too-), not a new name or anything like that.

Jason is not really sure if he can look at the name on the card and not immediately combust on the spot, if the address is making him feel this way already.

The ring on his finger feels heavy. Jason takes a deep breath and moves his thumb where it had been covering the rest of the text.

Jason Peter Harper.

It's his name.

It's him.

Jason reads it again. Then again. Then again once, twice, three times more.

Jason Peter Harper looks at him from the picture while he does so. Jason's head is really spinning, and he forces it to stop, hard.

It is him.

He is Jason Peter Harper.

He is the man in the picture on the card.

That's him.

The door opens and closes in the hallway. Roy comes up to Jason when Jason doesn't answer to his greeting.

"Everything okay?" He asks, as he gets to Jason's back.

"Yeah", Jason manages to get out from his mouth. "My new card came in."

"Oh, already?" Roy says. "That was fast. Let me see?"

Jason lifts the card up a bit, so Roy can read it over his shoulder. From how close Roy is standing to him, Jason can hear the small, gentle stutter in his breath as he reads the name. It isn't like neither of them had not seen it already, written like that, since it is in other forms they had filled out, but apparently, it is still making Roy feel just as much things as Jason does.

Jason hopes that it never stops doing that for either of them. Or at least, not for a very long time.

He needs something to last.

"Nice name you got there, Harper", Roy says, and Jason swears that he can almost feel Roy's smile on his skin. He then feels Roy's body pressing against him, warm and strong and solid. Roy wraps his arms around Jason, his head dipping down to rest on Jason, and Jason turns to look at Roy's hands and at the mathing golden wedding band he has on his finger.

"You're mine", Roy says against Jason's shoulder. It is what he has been saying, ever since the clerck at the City Hall had put their name on the paper, singing their lives together. You're mine, you're mine, you're mine, and no one can say otherwise.

Jason had needed to hear it.

He still does.

Jason looks up at the card. It's strange, how a little piece of plastic can tell everyone who he is.

Jason breathes in and closes his eyes, just feeling it all.

His name is Jason Peter Harper. He's alive.

His name is Jason Peter Harper, and for the first time since he died, he thinks he can be happy.

[deancaspinefest]

Something Happening Somewhen

Author: allthismusic | Artist: eggchef

Posting on Wednesday March 27

Dean is 24 years old, and a quiet night at a California dive bar turns into a near death experience turns into a trip through time thanks to the stranger he meets in the bar. When he lands in the bunker twenty years into his future, he finds out who the stranger is — and what his relationship is to Dean’s own older self. Dean’s not sure what he thinks about this at first, but when Cas takes him back to his own time (accompanied by the older Dean, who is determined to make sure that nothing they do in the past screws up their lives in the future), he gets to know the angel, and he gets a glimpse at a future he never would’ve dreamed that he might be able to have.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

In the cool evening air, Dean looks around. He’d left the Impala back parked at the dingy motel where he’d rented a room, but he’s not quite ready to call it a night. He opens his remaining beer and looks down the street to see if there’s another bar nearby that might be worth checking out, but before he can make a decision he hears the door to the bar he has just left open behind him. And he knows, he just /knows/, that it isn’t some other random patron headed home.

“What the hell is this, huh?” Dean asks, “Something about ‘not interested’ you’re not getting?”

And then the guy says his name.

“Dean,” the man begins, and Dean gets it.

“Oh, lemme guess, my dad tell you to check up on me?” Dean asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just begins to walk, knowing the man will follow. He’s a hunter, obviously. Explains the build, and the suit that is only meant to pass muster at a brief glance, like the fake police badge or FBI creds the guy probably carries. Dean should’ve clocked him from the start.

And for some reason John had thought that Dean needed checking up on. That he couldn’t be trusted to go it alone, nevermind the fact that he had finished the hunt his dad had sent him on two whole days ago and had yet to receive any new case coordinates from John.

To Dean’s surprise, he hears a laugh behind him. He stops, and now he does turn to face the guy again.

“No,” the man says. “I’ve lost count of how often I’ve been told I’m bad at following orders, but even if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t follow your father’s.”

“Oh yeah? Then how do you know my name?” Dean demands.

“You left your wallet on the bar,” the man replies, holding it up. It’s definitely Dean’s: worn black leather, secondhand from his dad, containing a meager number of bills and at least three fake IDs tucked behind a real one— well, real first name, although it gives his surname as Campbell, just in case.

“Oh,” Dean says, wondering for the second time that night if he has misjudged this guy’s intentions. Maybe he’s just a normal businessman trying to do a good deed for the day and return a lost wallet, despite the wallet’s owner being an absolute weird freak toward him. “Thanks.”

The man offers the wallet out to him, almost gently, like he’s proffering a bit of food to a scared, stray dog, and Dean steps forward to take it. “It’s your birthday,” he says, and before Dean can ask, the man explains, “I saw it on your ID. On one of them, anyway.” Dean nods. “Happy birthday,” the guy says. “I should’ve bought you a beer.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 27)

[allthesmutl0vers]

Entirely Forbidden and Completely Fucked- Chapter Six

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Author's Note:

I am going to start adding episodes from the show into the story. But it does not follow the show completely. For instance, they're not looking for John (yet), Sam and Jess were never a thing, although Sam did go to Stanford a few years ago but came back before y/n came in.

Trigger Warnings: Wincest + Half-Sister, Praise, Degradation, Choking, Withheld Orgasms, Squirting.

Chapter Six

Dean

“Come on, let's go!” I call out to Sam and y/n as I throw my duffle bag into the back seat of the Impala. We don’t have time to waste, and we need to hit the road. We should’ve left last night but I couldn’t leave Sammy and her unsatisfied. Those two, I swear to God. Since that night on the hood of the Impala on our way back from Ellen’s, we’ve been fucking like rabbits around the bunker. Thank God that Dad isn’t here. Never thought I’d say that. 

“You need to relax,” Sam chuckles as he throws his and y/n’s duffles into the back seat and closes the door. I throw him a glare and shake my head.

Y/n slides into the middle seat between me and Sam with a yawn. “Where are we going again?” She asks tiredly.

“Jericho, California,” I remind her as I start the engine, and Sam slides in next to her. “Seatbelt,” I tell y/n as I put the car in drive. 

Y/n laughs and rolls her eyes. “Since when do you care about seatbelts?” She quips with a smirk.

“Just put the damn seatbelt on, y/n,” I snip back. 

“Yes, big brother,” she flirts in that tone of voice she knows drives me crazy. She puts the lap belt on and pats it on her hips. 

“What about me? I’m your big brother too,” Sam flirts, putting an arm over her shoulders on the back of the seat. “Or is Dean your favorite now? Because last night,” he leans down and kisses her neck, and I feel her suck in a breath. “It was my name you were screaming,” he mutters as I pull out of the bunker garage.

Y/n

“I swear, man, you’ve gotta update your cassette collection,” Sam jokes as he digs through the box of cassette tapes Dean has. 

“Why?” Dean asks as we pass the sign that welcomes up into Jericho.

Sam laughs as he pulls out some of the tapes. “Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two: Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica?! It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock,” Sam jokes, holding up the tapes. He has a point Dean could do with updating his music collection. But I think his head would explode if he tried. 

“House rules, Sammy,” Dean says with a smile as he looks over at him. “Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

I laugh and take the box from Sam. “Here, I’ll pick something,” I say, looking through the box. 

“Hey, hey. What did I just say?” Dean says in an offended voice as I pull out the tape I was looking for. 

I give Dean a fake pouting look and give him my best innocent voice that I know he loves. “Please, big brother?” I beg, batting my eyelashes for good measure. 

Dean sighs and narrows his eyes, holding up one finger. “One song,” he says sternly. 

I smile victoriously and switch the cassette tapes, putting in a Bon Jovi one. I skip to the song I want and turn up the stereo volume as ‘You Give Love A Bad Name’ plays over the speakers. I turn to look at Dean and smile. “Good enough for you?” I tease. 

About halfway through the song, Dean turns it down and pulls onto a bridge where cops walk around. This must be where the guy we read about crashed his car. “Stay in the car,” Dean orders me as he reaches over to the glove box and pulls out fake IDs for him and Sam.

“Why can’t I come?” I ask as they both get out. 

Sam sighs and leans down into the car. “Okay, fine, you can come. But don’t say a word. Watch and learn,” he orders me and moves out of the way so I can get out. I smile and get out, noticing the look of disapproval from Dean. But he doesn’t say anything as we walk up to the cops. 

My heart races as my nerves fire off, scared the cops will figure out we’re not law enforcement. 

“Evening, Officers,” Dean greets the cop with a handshake.

The cop looks at Dean suspiciously but shakes his hand. “Evening, gentlemen. This is a crime scene. You need to be behind the tape,” he says firmly, pointing behind us to the yellow police tape.

“Agents Angus and Young,” Sam says as he and Dean flash their fake badges. 

The officer nods, and his demeanor changes as if he’s talking to a colleague. “My apologies, agents. And who is this?” He asks, looking at me between them. 

“Junior agent Smith,” Dean answers cooly. The cop nods and walks them through the crime scene. 

“We don’t know what exactly caused the crash or where he is now,” the cop says disappointedly with a sigh. 

“Was he drinking?” Sam asks as they look over the bridge. 

The cop shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe so. Troy is a good kid. His girlfriend is in town putting up missing persons papers.” 

“And I assume you checked all of the hospitals in the area?” Dean asks. 

The cop nods. “Hospitals, morgues, friends and family, nobody has seen him or someone who resembles his description.” 

“You said the girlfriend is in town?” Sam asks. The cop nods. “What’s her name? We’d like to speak with her.”

“Amy, my daughter,” The cop answers. “Be gentle, she’s obviously upset.”

“Will do, sheriff,” Dean answers with a nod. 

We find Amy outside of a diner in town, and Dean talks to her. “Amy?” Dean says, getting her attention.

“Yeah?” She asks, turning around. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she looks like she hasn’t slept since Troy went missing. 

“I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam and his daughter y/n. We’re Troy’s uncles,” Dean introduces us. 

“Oh, hi. I’m sorry. I’m doing everything I can to find him,” Amy says with tears in her eyes. 

Sam puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know, Amy. Your dad told us where we could find you. We were just hoping we could ask you a few questions.”

I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy course through me at Sam touching her. I feel bad for her. Really, I do. But I don’t want their hands on anyone but me.

“Of course,” Amy sniffles. “Um, we can talk inside,” she says, pointing to the diner where she was hanging the posters. 

Inside, I sit quietly while Sam and Dean talk to Amy and her friend Rachel, who showed up. I might have said something if I wasn’t biting my tongue so hard I draw blood. I hate the way Rachel flirts with Dean, but considering he’s supposed to be my uncle, I can’t really say shit. Dean doesn’t flirt back, but that doesn’t make it piss me off any less. 

“I wonder if it has something to do with the legend,” Rachel says quietly to Amy. 

Amy shakes her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rach.”

“What legend?” Sam asks curiously next to me, leaning on the table with his elbows.

Amy sighs. “It’s just some stupid local legend,” she says, turning to Rachel. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with Troy.”

“Think about it, Ams,” Rachel says seriously. “The crash, the fact nobody has seen him, it all points to it.”

“What legend?” Dean says impatiently on my other side. 

Rachel turns to Dean. “There’s a legend that a girl got murdered on Centennial Highway, and now, her ghost hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up disappears forever.”

“That’s not what happened to Troy,” Amy says angrily before storming off. Rachel follows after her, quickly apologizing to us before she leaves. 

“Let’s hit the library,” Dean says, standing up from the booth.

Sam

“Move,” I push Dean out of the computer chair and sit down. After all these years, he still sucks at research. 

Dean slaps me on the shoulder. “Dude! You’re such a control freak,” Dean scoffs and stands next to y/n. 

I ignore it, pull y/n into my lap, and open up the search bar again. “So, angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, irritated, leaning on the table next to us. 

“Well, maybe it’s not a murder,” y/n says on my lap. 

I smile and kiss her. “I love how you think,” I praise her, and she smiles. I type ‘Suicide on Centennial’ into the search bar and hit ‘search.’ I find an article from April 25, 1981 and click it. Dean leans over me and y/n and reads along with me. 

The article describes a woman named Constance Welch, who jumped to her death off the bridge after she made a frantic 911 call that she found her two children, ages five and six, drowned in the bathtub when she stepped away for a few minutes. 

“How awful,” y/n says sadly as she reads, wiping a tear from her eyes. I rub her side, comforting her. After losing her mom and still getting no answers, I can only imagine how hard this is hitting her. 

I kiss the side of her head when she leans it on my shoulder. “There’s a statement from her husband,” I point out before reading it aloud. “What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance couldn’t bear it,” said husband Joseph Welch. “Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time.” I finish reading the quote from her husband. 

Dean points to a picture of the husband standing next to the bridge where Troy died. “Does that bridge look familiar to you?” Dean asks. 

“So this is where Constance took a swan dive,” Dean says, leaning over the bridge railing. 

“Dean, be careful,” Y/n says next to me, a foot behind Dean. 

Dean turns around and smirks at her. “What? Are you scared I’ll fall?” Dean jokes and pretends to fall backward toward the rail. 

“Dean!” Y/n and I say simultaneously and reach out for him. 

“I’m kidding,” Dean laughs. “Seriously, chill out,” Dean says with a smirk to both of us.

Y/n slaps Dean’s chest hard. “Fuck you,” she seethes and whips around, flinging her hair over her shoulder. 

Dean smirks and stands behind her, gathering her hair in his hand and pulling her head back, making her gasp. “What did we tell you about tying back your hair?” Dean asks, holding her waist to his chest. 

“I got a headache,” y/n says softly, leaning into Dean. 

“Mm, you want a different type of ache, princess?” Dean teases, running his hand down her waist and cupping her between her legs. My cock tightens in my jeans as I watch them together. I never imagined sharing Dean with anyone, but then again, I never imagined I’d have a half-sister to share, either. 

I move to stand in front of y/n while Dean stands behind her. I grip her throat and bring my lips to hers. “Pretty sure he asked you a question, baby,” I whisper against her lips. 

She hums and tries to press her lips to mine, but I pull my lips just out of her reach, teasing her. She gasps, and her eyes blow wide. “Sam!” She screams.

I jump back and turn around. A woman in a tattered white dress stands on the rail of the bridge. Dean moves into action and pushes y/n behind us, standing next to me. We only see her for a second before she steps off the railing down into the water. 

We all run to the railing and look over. “Where did she go?” Y/n asks, looking down at the water below. 

“I don’t know,” I respond, shaking my head softly. 

Behind us, an engine comes to life, and we all turn to see the Impala with a running engine and the headlights on. “What the fuck?” Dean questions.

“Who’s driving the car?” I ask Dean. Dean pulls out the keys from his pocket, jingling them in his fingers. The engine revs and shoots toward us. “Go! Go!” I shout as well and start to run. But the car is going too fast, and it’s going to hit us. Dean hops over the railing, and I push y/n over it to Dean before jumping over myself. The car stops right in front of me and suddenly turns off. 

I clutch y/n close to my chest for a moment and help her over the railing, thanking God that she’s okay. When I notice Dean isn’t already over the railing with us, I start to panic. “Dean?!” I call for him. I know he wasn’t hit, there’s no blood, and he went over the railing before us. 

“DEAN!” Y/n shouts, looking over the railing. 

I run over next to her and look down to see Dean crawling out of the water, mud coating his body and a pissed-off look on his face. “Hey, you alright?” I call down to him as he stands up. 

Dean gives me the A-Okay sign with his hand. “I’m super,” he says sarcastically and makes his way back up to us on the bridge. 

Dean puts down the hood of the Impala after checking it and leans on the hood. “Is your car alright?” Y/n asks Dean. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Whatever she did to it, seems alright now,” Dean says, sitting on the hood. “Constance. That bitch.”

I sit next to y/n on the hood, her between me and Dean. “She doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure,” I point out, y/n scooting closer to me. “So where’s the job go from here, genius?” I ask Dean sarcastically. 

“You smell like a toilet,” y/n points out when Dean notices she’s scooting away from him. Dean rolls his eyes and looks at us with a ‘really?’ expression. Me and y/n chuckle softly, and after a moment Dean looks down and chuckles too. 

Y/n

Dean gets a hotel room and cleans up, thank God. I fall back on the motel bed with a sigh. I have no idea how we’re going to get rid of Constance. We don’t even know where she’s buried. There was nothing in the article about a funeral.

“You alright?” Sam asks, lying down on his side next to me. 

“How are we going to get rid of her?” I ask him softly. 

Sam takes a deep breath and brushes my hair behind my ear. “We’ll find her bones and burn them,” he tells me. 

“We don’t even know where they are,” I remind him. 

Sam kisses me. “You’re too stressed out,” he says against my lips. 

I huff a laugh. “And you’re not?” 

Sam runs his hand down my body to the waistband of my jeans. “Maybe we need to blow off some steam,” Sam says, leaning down to kiss my neck. 

I moan softly and bite my bottom lip. “What about Dean?” I ask as Sam unbuttons my jeans. 

Sam moves on top of me and smirks. “Give him a show. The man jumped off a bridge after all,” Sam quips as he pulls my jeans and underwear down my legs. 

I sit up just enough to pull off my shirt and bra. “I like that idea,” I moan softly as Sam starts to kiss up my thighs. I fall back on the bed and squeeze my breasts as Sam’s tongue lands on my clit, licking slow circles. “Mm, Sammy,” I moan, pinching my nipples. 

Sam slides two fingers into me as he starts to suck on my clit, nipping it softly with his teeth, melting pain with pleasure as the knot in my stomach starts to tighten. “Ah, ah,” I moan, my back arching against the mattress. “Just, just like that,” I pant as he curls in fingers inside of me and thrusts them in and out. 

The bathroom door opens, and I watch Dean stop in his tracks at the sight of his brother between my legs, his face buried in my pussy. “Mm, hi, Dean,” I tease and let out a louder moan as Sam thrusts his fingers into me hard. “Sammy is going to make me cum like a good big brother,” I tease him further as he stalks toward me on the bed. 

“Is that so?” Dean asks, dropping the towel from around his waist, and his long, hard cock drips with pre-cum. Dean kneels on the bed next to my head. “Are you going to be a good little sister and make me cum too?” Dean teases as he runs his fingers through my hair. 

Sam’s tongue swirls around my clit again, and I moan. “Yes, Dean,” I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, inviting him inside. 

Dean slides his cock across my tongue and inside of my throat with a hiss. “Fuck. Such a good little slut for your big brothers. Aren’t you y/n?” 

I nod as best I can with Dean in my throat. “Mhmm,” I hum around his cock. I cup his balls with my hand and play with them how he likes. 

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” Dean groans as he thrusts in and out of my throat. “Breath through your nose, y/n,” Dean reminds me when I start to gag around him. I follow his direction, and I can take more of him down my throat without gagging. “Good girl,” Dean praises. 

I’m so wrapped up in pleasing Dean that I don’t notice Sam has stopped eating me out until I feel the tip of his cock push into my entrance. I moan, and my eyes roll back as Sam stretches me, filling me with his long and thick cock. “Ah, ah,” Dean corrects me, grabbing my throat and forcing me to look up at him above me. “Eyes on me when my cock is in your throat, princess,” Dean smirks. 

I moan and do my best to keep my eyes on Dean as he watches Sam grip my hips and plow into me hard and fast. “How’s her pussy, little brother?” Dean groans. 

“So,” Sam moans and thrusts hard into me again. “So fucking wet,” he groans and spreads my legs impossibly far apart, letting his cock reach deeper inside of me. I whimper around Dean’s cock in my throat as Sam repeatedly hits that spot inside of me harder and faster. 

Dean pulls himself out of my throat, and my saliva and Dean’s pre-cum drip down my chin. “F-fuck,” I whimper, gripping the blanket on the bed. “I’m, I’m gonna cum,” I cry out in pain and pleasure. 

Dean slaps my breast, making me gasp, and then massages it. “Not before you ask permission,” Dean teases. 

My head falls back, and my back arches. “P-please,” I whimper, trying to keep the tether inside of me from snapping. 

Dean grips my hair harshly and forces my head up to watch Sam fuck me. “Beg again and watch Sammy fuck that tight little cunt. And maybe we’ll let you,” Dean taunts. 

I make eye contact with Sam. “Please, Sammy,” I whimper, watching his cock pump in and out of me, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of me. “Fuck, please,” I beg again. 

Sam smirks and looks over at Dean. “I’m gonna bust Dean. Does she deserve to cum?” Sam checks with his brother before letting me find my release. 

“Cum with her,” Dean groans, pumping his cock. Dean looks down at me. “Cum. Now,” he demands. 

My legs shake, and my vision blurs as I cum the hardest I ever have before, even with them. I feel Dean shoot ropes of cum across my chest and barely feel Sam’s cum as a gush of wetness squirts from my entrance. 

“What,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “What was that?” I ask. 

“You squirted,” Sam smiles and runs his fingers up my folds before bringing them to his mouth and sucking them with a satisfied hum. “Have you never done that before?” I shake my head. 

Dean lifts me and moves me to the other bed, laying on top of it with me, and Sam follows, lying down on the other side of Dean, putting him in the middle. “You will again,” Dean promises me. 

“Tonight?” I ask him. I could probably go again. 

Dean shakes his head. “Not tonight. We have a long day tomorrow, and I need you both on your game.” 

“I’m always on my game,” Sam chuckles and kisses Dean, then me. 

“Shut up, both of you and go to bed.”

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💗🥰

[mommymlkrs]

~ You Can’t Escape Destiny ~

~ Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/n come across a profit writing books word for word off of their lives. They seek out the writer and he tells them something they may not have wanted to hear. Do they really want to try and escape destiny though?

~ Pairings: Sam Winchester x Fem Reader

~ Warnings: Smut, this is also very long.

*Based off of Season 4 Episode 18* *Spoilers*

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

The bell dings as Sam and Dean enter the comic book store after being sent on a possible hunt by Castiel. They both make their way to the guy at the front counter in their black and white suits posing as FBI agents.

“Uh can I help you?” The worker says confused.

“Sure hope so, agents DeYoung and Shaw, just need to ask you a few questions.” Dean holds up his badge.

“See anything strange in the building the last couple of days?” Sam pipes in.

“Like what?”

“Strange noises? Any skittering in the walls? kind of like rats?”

“And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?” The guy asks suspiciously.

“What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?” Sam keeps nagging.

The worker looks like the lightbulb in his head suddenly flickered on as a smile creeps on his face.

“I knew it! You guys are LARP-ing, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me.” Dean says offended.

“You’re fans!”

“Fans of what?”

“What is LARP-ing?” They both question.

“Like you don’t know.” Still finding a bright smile on his face, Sam and Dean both look at him with confusing looks.

“Live-Action role playing, and pretty hardcore too!” He exclaims pointing towards their suits making them both look down.

“Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You guys are asking questions like the building is haunted. Like those guys from the books. Oh what are their names..” He explains as he tries to remember.

“Supernatural.” The guy recalls as Sam and Dean are both utterly confused.

“Two guys use fake Id's with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires." He tells them. Sam and Dean both give each other confusing looks.

"What are their names? Uhh, Steve and Dirk? Sal and Dane?"

"Sam and Dean?" Sam questions.

"That's it!"

"You're saying this is a book?"

"Books, it was a series." He corrects.

"Didn't sell a lot of copies though, kind of an underground cult following."

"Let's see uhh" The worker jumps up and searches for the series within his store. Both Sam and Dean follow as he searches through the bargain bin.

"Oh yeah, that's the first one I think." He hands the book to Dean."

"Supernatural by Carver Edlund." Dean reads the title continuing when he flips the book over.

"Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths."

"Give me that." Sam grabs the book from Dean frantically scanning the book.

"We're gonna need all the copies of Supernatural you got."

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

Back at the motel, Sam is seated at a desk researching on his computer, Dean is sitting on one bed reading one of their new found books, and Y/n is lying on her stomach on the other bed already starting the second in the series.

"This is freaking insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?" Dean perks up.

"You got me." Sam replies.

"everything is in here. I mean everything. To the racist truck to me having sex. I'm full frontal in here." Dean explains.

"Those were some of the best parts." Y/n chimes in joking. Both Sam and Dean look at Y/n with weird looks. Although Y/n never takes her eyes away from the words on the page she can just imagine their faces so she smirks.

"How come we haven't heard of them before?" Dean says Ignoring Y/n's comment.

"They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uhh started in 05. Publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And the last one, 'No Rest for the Wicked ends with you going to hell." Sam faces the laptop to Dean once he sits down next to him.

"Well, I reiterate. Freaking insane. Oh and check it out, there's actually fans. Not many of them, but still. Did you read this Sam?"

"Yup."

"Really? Oh my god, you guys are like famous!" Y/n gets up to look over Dean's shoulder at the laptop.

"For fans, they do complain a lot. Listen to this. Simpatico says 'The demon story line is trite, clichéd and overall craptastic.' Yeah well screw you Simpatico, we lived it."

Y/n starts to laugh and points to the screen to read it out.

"There are Sam girls, Dean girls and Sam / Dean fans.”

"What does that mean?" Dean asks.

"As in.. Together." Answers Sam.

"Like together together?"

"Yeah."

"They do know we're brothers right?" Dean says wide eyed.

"It doesn't seem to matter."

"Oh come on. That’s just sick."

"This just keeps getting better and better." Y/n giggles.

"Oh don't worry Y/n, there's some of you too." Sam smirks.

Y/n goes wide eyed and her face heats up in embarrassment.

"I take it back, this is definitely too weird."

"Oooh look at that, 'Y/n and Sam ge-" Y/n shuts the laptop closed immediately and releases a breath she didn't know she was holding while Dean chuckles at her action.

"We gotta find this Carver Edlund."

"But how?" Y/n questions Sam.

"I don't know. No tax records, no known address. Looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name."

"Someone's gotta know who he is." Dean replies.

*:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*

"So you published the Supernatural books?" Sam questions the woman.

"Yup, gosh these books. You know they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

Both Sam and Dean give Y/n side glances knowing that's all Y/n ever reads.

"What?" Y/n whispers looking back and forth between them.

"Well, we're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series." Sam looks back to the woman.

"Yeah, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we could start publishing again."

"No, no, no, no. God no. I mean why would you wanna do that? You know, it's such a complete series... What with Dean going to hell and all." Dean tries to explain.

"Oh my god, that was one of my favourite ones! Because Dean was so strong and sad and brave, and Sam, I mean, in ‘Heart’, when Sam had to kill Madison, the first girl since Jessica he really loved.." She says so excitedly.

"Totally agree, and Y/n, right guys? Personally I think she was one of the best characters." Y/n says trying not to be left out.

"Yeah.. I mean she could definitely use some character growth but she added to the story." Y/n was definitely offended by that, but the woman continued.

"I really wish I could've seen what happened with her and Sam though."

"Her and Sam?" Sam questioned her statement not understanding.

"Yeah, you know, there was definitely something between them. You guys finished the books right?"

Both Y/n and Sam's faces started to heat up trying to look anywhere but at the people in the room.

"Yeah, yeah, totally! Great books." Dean chimes in.

"How do I know you 3 are legit? Hm?" She points a finger at them.

"Oh trust me, we're legit."

"Well I don't want any smart ass article making fun of my boys." She sits down behind her desk.

"No, no, no." The 3 quickly say in sync.

"We would never." Y/n adds.

"We are actually uhm big fans, read the books cover to cover."

"What's the year and model of the car?" Clearly trying to test them.

"1967 Chevy Impala." Dean says like a proud dad.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my-" Y/n quickly shoves Sam's foot.

"Uhh that's Sam's birthday." Sam says correcting his mistake.

"January 24th is Dean's." Dean quickly slides that in there.

"And (your birthday) is Y/n's, i-if you wanted to know."

"Sam's score on the LSAT?" Both Y/n and Dean look at Sam.

"One... Seventy four.?"

"Dean's favourite song?"

"It's a tie. Between Zep's 'Rambling On' and 'Travelling Riverside Blues.’”

"Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?" She smiles.

"What's Carver Edlunds real name?" Sam questions.

"Oh no, no, sorry I can't do that."

"We just wanna talk to him. You know get the Supernatural story in his own words."

"He's very private."

"Please." Sam pleads.

"Like we said.. We are very big fans." Y/n explains rolling up her sleeve to show her anti-posessing tattoo eyeing Sam and Dean to do the same. They both unbutton their shirts showing their tattoo's placed on their chest.

"Awesome." The woman says nervously obviously eyeing their chests. Y/n can't help but roll her eyes.

"You know what? One sec." She pulls down her pants to show her ass. And it just so happens to be the same tattoo. Y/n makes an uncomfortable noise from her throat and coughs to interrupt the weirdness.

"Wow, you are a fan." Dean says without removing his eyes from her tattoo.

"Hah, okay, well here, his name is Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius. So don't piss him off." She explains while writing down the information.

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All 3 of them get out of the car and head to the house.

"You know what? Maybe this guy can see our futures.” Y/n says as a joke.

"Yeah, he probably has a crystal ball too." Dean making a sarcastic comment as always.

"Ha ha Dean. Lighten up once in awhile, it's just a joke." Sam chuckles at her nagging.

"See, Sam laughed, it's probably because I'm funny." She speaks while skipping on a few steps to get beside them. When she reaches them, Sam’s hand and hers accidentally touch, startling them.

"Or because you can't keep up with us, short legs." Dean remarks once making it to the porch. Dean presses the doorbell and after a few seconds a guy with brown scruffy hair opens the door squinting at them like a vampire who hasn't seen light in days.

“You Chuck Shurley?” Dean asks.

“The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?” Sam seconds.

“Maybe, why?” The scruffy vampire man replies suspiciously. Y/n steps up between the boys.

“I’m Y/n, this is Sam and Dean. The ones you’ve been writing about.” She explains pointing at them. The man shuts the door so Y/n raises her arm and pounds on the door. Once again the man appears in the doorway.

“Look uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It’s always nice to hear from the fans. But for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.” Y/n scoffs at that and stops the door when the man tries to shut it.

“So here’s the thing, Chuck. We have a life, you’ve been using it to write your books, and I’m not in the mood for crap today.” Y/n perks up and walks into his house. The brothers both look at each other not expecting that from her.

“Wait a minute, this isn’t funny.” The man stutters.

“Damn straight, it’s not funny.” Dean starts to get mad.

“Look, we just want to know how you’re doing it?” Sam asks obviously being the nice cop here.

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Are you a hunter?”

“What? No, I’m a writer.”

“Then how do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?” Dean pressures.

“Is this some kind of Misery thing? It is isn’t it? It’s a Misery thing.”

“This is not a Misery thing.” Y/n chimes in.

“Believe me, we are not fans.” Explains Dean.

“Well then what do you want?”

“I’m Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/n.”

“Sam, Dean and Y/n are all fictional characters. I made them up. They’re not real!”

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Dean opens up the Impala’s trunk.

“Are those real guns?” Chuck asks.

“Yup, this is real rock salt, these are real fake Id’s.”

“Believe us now?” Says Y/n.

“Uh, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That’s awesome, so.. I think I got some posters in the house.” Chuck dabbles and walks back to his house.

“Chuck stop!” Deans yells.

“Wait, please, please don’t hurt me.”

“How much do you know? About the angels or Lilith breaking the seals?” Asks Sam.

“Wait a minute, how do you know about that?”

“How do you?” Y/n questions.

“Cause I wrote it.”

“You kept writing?” Questions Y/n again, curious.

“Even after the publisher went bankrupt. But those books never came out.” The 3 look at each other then Chuck.

“Okay wait wait wait, this is some kind of joke right? Did that- Did Phil put you up to this?” He laughs pointing to his left.

“Well nice to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam, and that’s Y/n Y/L/n.”

“Last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down.”

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After talking more with Chuck, they all head to the Laundromat.

“‘I’m sitting in a Laundromat, reading about myself in a Laundromat, reading about myself-‘ my head hurts.” Dean recites the paper.

“There’s gotta be something this guys not telling us.” Sam says putting his laundry in the machine.

“‘Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck. Whether he was telling the whole truth.’”

“Stop it.” Sam now annoyed.

“‘Stop it’ Sam said.’ Guess what you do next. ‘Sam turned his back on Dean. His face brooding and pensive.’ I mean I don’t know how but this guy is doing it.”

“Yeah I mean those are definitely his brooding and pensive shoulders.” Y/n responds to Dean.

“See, I knew you were gonna say that, and Sam just thought I was a dick. As well as Y/n daydreaming about Sam’s ass.” This caught Y/n’s attention.

“It does not say that!”

“I’m pretty sure it does, look-ey here” Dean waves the paper in Y/n’s face.

“Gimme that.” Y/n scootches over to Dean on the bench to grab the paper but he waves it around out of her reach.

“Oh my god, you are so childish Dean.”

“Says the one embarrassed she got caught starin’.” Reading off the paper again, Y/n snatches the paper, crumples it and throws it in the trash.

“You gotta admit, the guys good.” Sam chuckles and tries to ignore the previous conversation.

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Back at the house trying to get more information, Chuck holds more paper.

“So you wrote another chapter?” Asks Sam.

“This was all so different before you were real.”

“We need whatever you can tell us to figure this out so just spit it out.” Y/n perks up.

“Okay, uhm this might be a little uncomfortable, but you asked so.” The 3 share glances across the room from where Dean is sitting on a chair and Sam and Y/n are sitting on the couch. Chuck sits on a stool, puts his glasses on and begins to read, obviously seeming like he doesn’t like to read his work out loud.

“‘Y/n grabs him by the edges of his unzipped jacket pulling him closer to her when he hungrily smashes his lips on hers like a wave of relief, a desire fulfilled.’ Chuck stops reading to look at the 3, who’s faces are utterly confused to see if he should read on. Y/n just knows her face is red as a tomato when she starts to feel very uncomfortable at the mention of her name. Chuck starts to read on.

“‘Sam’s hands grab her hips trying to get impossibly clos-‘“

“Okay, I don’t think we need that much information..” Sam cuts Chuck off feeling embarrassed and very sweaty at the moment. Dean chuckles at the very obvious uncomfortableness in the room.

“It’s just a draft..” Chuck states. Y/n stands from the couch.

“I’m uh super thirsty actually, do you have any water Chuck?”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll uhm go get some.”

“Great, I’ll come with you.” Y/n follows trying to leave the awkwardness as fast as possible.

Sam starts to laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Dean questions.

“Nothing, nothing, its just, Y/n and me? In bed?”

“Who are you trying to convince here?” Dean smirks.

“Don’t worry, I definitely don’t see you’re guys’ little glances and hand touches, and staring at the other when the other isn’t looking type of deal.”

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean says innocently causing Sam to roll his eyes.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Y/n and Chuck walk back into the room with her glass of water.

“Thank you.” Y/n says kindly avoiding eye contact with Sam as she sits on the couch but a little farther away this time trying not to make it more awkward.

“How does this whole psychic thing work?” Dean asks Chuck.

“You mean my process?”

“Yes. Your process.”

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“Come on.” Sam starts while they’re all in the Impala.

“‘The minivan accident wasn’t that bad. But Dean was still seeing stars, he scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aid on his face..’” Y/n giggles at that from the backseat.

“So?” Questions Dean.

“So I’ve seen you gushing blood. You use duct tape and bar rags before you’d put on a pink flower Band-Aid.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is this, all this is totally implausible. It’s nuts.”

“He’s been right about everything, you think he’ll ground out at first now?”

“‘Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.’”

“Can we stop with these papers? Our lives aren’t a script we have to follow, reading off of these isn’t gonna help with anything right now except make you guys argue.” Y/n put her hands on the seat and leaned forward glancing between them.

“Yeah whatever, you just don’t wanna come across another part with you and Sam.” Dean smirks.

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Back at the motel Dean still seemed to have questions.

“I’m gonna go outside and try to see if I can contact Cas.”

“Don’t leave me in here Dean!” Y/n whisper yells.

“Sam’s in the shower, I’ll be like 10 minutes tops Y/n. Just don’t go hopping in there with him.” Dean smirks and shuts the door to the room.

Y/n decides to get comfy so she sits on the bed, back against the headboard and watches whatever she can find on the tv. After watching the clock, it had been 10 minutes exactly when she heard the bathroom door open. Sam walked out, damp hair and water dripping down his body with only a towel hanging on his waist. Y/n found herself staring.

“Oh, uhm I thought I heard the door close, I assumed you left with Dean.” Sam explained gathering up his clean clothes.

“He said he would be like 10 minutes, just wanted to contact Cas.”

“Oh okay.” Sam said nervously heading back to the bathroom to change. After a few minutes the bathroom door opened again and this time he had pants on but still no shirt.

“Could you uh pass me that shirt beside you?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, here.” She tossed him his shirt. He raised his arms and put his shirt on. Y/n swore she almost drooled. Sam came and sat down across from Y/n on the other bed facing her. She sat up and put her feet on the floor.

“Listen, about earlier..” Sam started as he scratched his neck. Remembering back to earlier Y/n laughed, noticing how funny it actually was.

“Which part? There was so many.” She giggled referring to all the awkward times people said something about them being together. Sam laughed too at that.

“Yeah, I just don’t want that to make things awkward between us, it’s kinda felt that way since earlier.”

“Yeah, I felt that too. But maybe Chuck was wrong? I’ve always believed we write our own futures, so fuck destiny. If we don’t feel what everyone is saying we should feel, then so what?” Sam laughed and nodded his head.

“I agree.” At that, Y/n smiled and stood up to hug Sam.

“See? All better, we can feel how we wanna feel.”

“So I can feel that I wanna tickle you?” Sam smiled and Y/n immediately gasped and tried to run away but Sam grabbed her waist and started tickling.

“SAM! I swear if you don’t stop!” Sam pushed her back onto the other bed stopping her from squirming away.

“You swear what?” Sam stopped tickling her but held her hips to the bed still. After a few moments, Y/n caught her breath but didn’t know what to say. She looked back and forth between his eyes and lips and so did Sam. Suddenly they heard voices and sat up quickly. Dean walked through the door.

“I don’t even wanna know. C’mon we are getting out of here.” Dean stated.

“What where?” Asked Sam.

“Anywhere, okay? Out of this Motel, out of this town. I don’t care if we gotta swim. We are getting out.” Dean started packing his bag.

“Why aren’t you guys moving?” Dean raised his voice.

“Listen, Chuck is not a psychic. He’s a prophet.”

“What?” Y/n stood up.

“Cas showed up. And apparently, Chuck is writing the gospel of us. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“It’s the middle of the night Dean, the road out of here is cut off, we can’t leave.” Y/n walked towards him.

“Fine. We are leaving as soon as the road out of here opens up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Dean repeated.

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That night, Dean some how ended up getting his own bed and Y/n got the other bed while Sam was stuck with the couch after very much debate between him and Y/n.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes to find it was still dark outside, she found herself thirsty so she got up to grab a water bottle out of the fridge but only found beer. ‘Liquid is liquid I guess’ she thought. Once her eyes adjusted to the room, her eyes found themselves on Sam, quietly laughing at how gigantic he was with his legs hanging off the end of the couch. She looked over to Dean but he wasn’t there.

“Dean?” She asked like he was suddenly gonna appear. She quickly made her way over to Sam shaking his shoulders to wake him up.

“Sam? Sam!” He groaned as he awoke.

“Deans not in his bed.”

“What?” Sam questioned Y/n.

‘Oh my god, his morning voice.’ Y/n thought.

“I don’t know where he is. The Impala is still outside and all of his stuff is here.”

Sam stood up to see Dean was in-fact not in his bed. ‘He doesn’t have a shirt on too? Oh my, what this man does to me.’ Y/n thought.

“Maybe he went for a walk?” Said Sam obviously too tired at the moment to focus.

“I don’t know Sam.” Sam took a step closer to Y/n to get her attention.

“Y/n, I’m sure he just went to the bar across the street or something. Let’s just go back to sleep and when we wake up I’m telling you he will be here. If he’s not, we can take as many precautions as you’d like.”

“Fine.” At that Sam took another step closer to put his fingers on her chin turning her head up to him.

“Y/n.” Sam said sternly knowing she was worried.

“It’s okay Sam, if you think he’s fine, I believe you.” Y/n explained placing her fingers on his hand. Sam smiled at that.

“Goodnight Y/n.” Sam said softly leaving her touch.

“Are you sure about that couch Sam? You didn’t look too comfortable… You can sleep in my bed if you want, I really don’t mind.” Y/n said calmly trying to act as chill as possible as she climbed in under the covers.

“You sure?”

“Just get in Sam.” She smiled at him. Sam made his way over to the side of the bed and hesitantly got under the covers as well. Y/n turned over to face Sam still smiling.

“What?” He smiled at her.

“You’re so warm, the bed was so cold before.” Y/n said, thoughts racing.

“I’ll gladly be your heater anytime Y/n.” She loved when he said her name. She shuffled a bit closer not wanting to roll off the bed during the night. At that, Sam slowly reached his hand up to brush her hair out of her face behind her ear. At the action, Y/n’s cheeks turned pink, thankful it was dark so he didn’t notice.

After a moment of staring into each others eyes, both of their gazes flickered back and forth from their eyes to each others lips. Sam leaned in slowly not wanting to accidentally get the wrong idea. His lips grazed hers and after realization Y/n pressed her lips to his. A slow kiss made faster in the moment turning his hand on her hip and hers on his cheek.

They both separated taking heavy breaths, echoing through the motel room. Y/n smirked and pulled him closer once again intertwining their mouths and pressing their bodies as close as possible to each other. Sam put both hands on her hips now turning them over so he was on top, he started kissing her jawline and down her neck giving them a break to breathe. Y/n put her hands through his hair as Sam looked up at her.

“I remember you saying ‘fuck destiny.’” Sam smirked.

“And I remember you agreeing. So shut up and kiss me Winchester.” She smiled at him and brought him up to her face connecting their lips. Sam tugged at the edge of her oversized shirt making her lean up off the bed so he could pull it off finding her without a bra. He instantly went to sucking her chest and twisting her other nipple. Y/n let out a moan and Sam smiled against her chest switching to give each the same attention.

He went back to her mouth and Y/n found the draw string to his sweatpants undoing the bow tugging at them. Sam got the hint and detached their mouths to kneel and take off his pants. He slowly reached for Y/n’s shorts and looked up at her. She smiled and nodded so he continued to pull them off her. He rubbed his fingers against her covered heat.

“Your so wet.” Sam noticed and smiled at her.

“All for you.” Y/n spoke up. Sam then hooked his fingers on either side of her hips pulling her underwear down and off. She whined at the cool air hitting her suddenly. Sam leaned down toward her heat spreading her legs with his hands and licking a stripe up her slit. Y/n moaned at his action so Sam did it again liking the sweet sounds she made. He then started sucking on her clit harshly making her squeal and try to shut her legs around his head so Sam reached both his arms under and around her thighs keeping them open for him.

He started moving his mouth around more chasing her to moan and stick her hands back in his hair pulling and tugging.

“Sam pleasee.” Y/n moaned.

“Please what? Tell me what you need sweetheart.” Sam replied against her pussy.

“I- I need more!” At that, Sam unhooked one of his arms from her thigh and stuck his finger in her hole. Y/n screamed at the sudden movements. Sam roughly moved his finger in and out adding a second one still sucking her clit.

“I- I’m gonna-“ Y/n tried to tell him.

“That’s it, cum on my fingers sweetie.” At the nickname, Y/n came on his fingers a moaning mess. Still thrusting, he let her come down from her high.

Sam sucked her juices off his fingers coming off with a pop.

“You taste so good.” Sam stated crawling back up to her to intertwine their lips. They broke apart as Y/n tugged his boxers down finding his hard cock.

“You’re so big.” Said Y/n, almost drooling. Sam chuckled and turned her on her stomach with her ass in the air. Sam stuck his arm around to her face.

“Spit.” Y/n did as told and Sam brought his hand back to stroke his cock a few times. He put one hand on her ass spreading her open for him and the other hand guiding his dick in her wet hole. He slowly went in as Y/n started to whine.

“C’mon, you can fit me honey.” She moaned at his deep soothing voice and Sam bottomed out giving her a second to adjust before he pulled out, back in, and started slamming into her from behind with both hands on her hips now bringing her hips to meet his. Their moans and groans filled the room along with the slapping of their hips.

“Sam-“ Y/n moaned into the bed gripping the sheets. Sam grabbed both her arms and pinned her wrists behind her back grunting as he pounded harder. Y/n started to whine loudly and he felt her clench causing him to roll his head back.

“You gonna cum baby?” He said to her reaching his fingers down to massage her clit.

“Mhmm.” She moaned out not being able to form words. He let go off her wrists, grabbing a fist of hair instead making her uncontrollably moan as well as her eyes rolling back in her head. Sam stopped his movement on her clit and let go of her hair before pulling out quickly to flip her body around. Her back now on the bed he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder immediately putting his cock back into her wet cunt causing her to whimper and scream. Sam leaned down grabbing the sides of her face in his palms and kissed her. While pulling away from her lips he started pounding into her like never before shaking the bed. They stared into each others eyes mouths wide open moaning. Y/n’s eyes started to get heavy and started to stutter.

“Sam, I’m-“ Sam knew what she was trying to say and continued fucking into her.

“I know baby. Cum for me.” He said between breaths feeling her starting to clench around him. Y/n moaned his name all the way through her orgasm.

“Good girl.” Y/n then began to shake at the over stimulation.

“Sammy- I ca-“

“Just a little longer sweetie, you can do it.” He reassured her and let go of her head to pound into her a little more when his thrusts started getting sloppy and his dick began to twitch. His cum shot into her causing them to both moan. He carefully pulled out and leaned down on top of her to kiss her swollen lips. She ran her fingers through his hair while both of them panted to calm down and catch their breathe. Sam lied down next to her on his side, pulled her into him by her waist and kissed the top of her head.

“I guess we can’t really escape destiny huh?” Sam joked and Y/n looked up at him kissing him again.

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Y/n’s eyes began to open immediately putting her hand up to block the bright sunlight. She looked around to find Sam’s arm draped over her waist and Dean’s bed still empty. Sam awoke from her movement.

“Hi.” Sam said fluttering his eyes open.

“Hi.” She replied smiling at him. Suddenly the motel room door opened and in walked Dean landing his eyes on them.

“So, destiny huh guys?” Dean smirked. Sam’s cheeks went pink and Y/n grabbed her pillow and tossed it at Dean.

“Hey! Watch the coffee grumpy.” Dean remarked.

“Where were you last night?” Y/n asked ignoring his comment.

“Just at the bar. Why? Seems like your guys’ minds were somewhere else.” Dean placed the coffees down and widened his eyes at the pair.

“Couch comfy Sam?” Dean asked, obviously amused. Sam just rolled his eyes at his joking behaviour.

[zmediaoutlet]

This world without apocalypse—or demons, or angels, or magic of any kind, as far as Dean can tell—is… fine. It's a craphole for all the normal reasons, what with climate change and war and gas over three bunks a gallon. But—as far as Dean can tell, if he went down to the ghost highway in Nevada it'd really just be a dumb story kids tell each other at summer camp and not something that'd get his lungs torn out through his throat. If he went down to a crossroads and buried his face and name in the midnight dirt, he'd just be down a decent fake ID.

It's not like the dream he had all those years ago, when the djinn tried to give him a fantasy that was rotten through its core. This world is sterile. All the problems it has, problems of its own making, with no fate or angels or anyone trying to load the dice. You die here and—you die, and that's all. Your body rots into the earth and grass grows from the dirt above and there's no heaven or hell and no deals to be made and no responsibility to things beyond the concrete meat in front of you. Freedom, more bare and wild than anything he'd ever imagined.

He's gotten through about half the bottle, eyes dry and sore from reading, when Sam reappears, looking harried. "Hey there, People's Sexiest Man 2010," Dean says. At least there's Sam's face, when he hears it. "You think they send you a plaque or something for that?"

"If they do, this guy's probably got it in a trophy room," Sam says, revolted. His eyes drift down from the terrible gigantic version of himself behind Dean's back and to Dean's face, which for some reason makes him frown even if Dean's just—what, he's sitting here. "What?"

"How was—" Dean gestures vaguely at the ceiling. He wandered through the house while Sam was doing his own search, saw the master bedroom with its california king mattress and the his-and-hers bedside tables and the gallon-sized bottle of Wet in the drawer. Sue him, he investigates shit for a living. "You were gone a while."

Sam's mouth gets thin. Prissy bitch. "Don't laugh," he says, and ignores Dean immediately saying no promises. "Said I had a headache. She applied, like. Essential oils. Said we needed to re-align my chakras."

Dean sits back in his chair, something tense that had been wrapping itself around his spine slowly uncoiling. "Tell me she used a crystal," he says.

"Amethyst," Sam says, grim, and Dean whoops. "Dude, this world sucks."

"Oh, I dunno," Dean says, kicking his boots up onto the desk. He lifts the glass of stupid-expensive scotch he's nearly drained. "Got some perks, at least."

Sam comes around the edge of the desk, takes the glass out of his hand, and drains it. Dean would sock him one but, hey, he had some not-Ruby weirdo alpaca owner trying to align his chakras with a purple rock. Instead he leans over and pours Sam another inch or two of liquid gold. He expects him to knock it straight back but Sam only sighs, leans his hip against the desk next to Dean's boots. His thigh against Dean's calf, warm. Real, in a way all this strange day has hardly felt. Like he's been walking around a dumb Hollywood set, like if he threw a punch it'd crack through cheap painted cardboard, but then here was Sam and—there was the world, as it should be. More or less.

"People's Sexiest Man?" Sam says, after a few seconds.

Dean snorts. "People's Choice, too, for… something or other. Looks like we don't win real awards but the fans are into it. Probably for all those abs." Sam rolls his eyes, sitting back on the desk. He sets a boot on the chair next to Dean's ass so their legs press against each other, hip to ankle. "I don't know, man. It's… look, you're rich, you're a movie star or something, you're married. Demons are a crappy special effect. It doesn't one hundred percent suck."

"Genevieve says we had an affair," Sam says. Dean chokes on air, coughs, and Sam hands the glass of scotch back over. Smiling slightly, the bitch. "She wanted to use positive language about—healing with honest communication, or something. We had a huge fight but I guess they managed to cover it up and now you basically live in your trailer. Well, not you—Jason Ackles, or whatever. She thinks I've been trying to make up with you."

"Can't resist this even in an alternate universe," Dean says, when he's recovered his air. An affair. Jesus.

Sam sighs at him. "I hate this house," he says. He slides his hand under Dean's calf, pressing their knees together. "I don't care about alpacas. I don't want to be People's Choice for anything. I'll take all the crap that comes with it if I have to but I want to be home, where I've got my own name and you've got yours, and we're—who we are. Sound good?"

Dean bites the inside of his cheek. Sam raises his eyebrows, waiting. "Yeah, okay," Dean says, voice miraculously clear, and gets Sam to squeeze his calf, to lean forward. His hand sliding up Dean's thigh, his eyes steady on Dean's. Dean swallows, catches Sam's fingers. This free thing spreading wings under his breastbone. "Just—Sammy," he says, and Sam hums, eyes dropping to his mouth. "Maybe we can steal that bottle of Wet before we go?"

[legitfakes]

Georgia Fake Driver License. Georgia fake id – It comes with the following features. We use the newest template as used by the DMV in 2019, to make our Georgia IDs.

Graphical Features of Georgia Fake Driver License It comes with the symbolic shiny peach and a darker version of orange around it. The “GEORGIA STATE MAP” shaped around the fruits. A real id “GOLDEN” star. Georgia Fake Driver License

[allhalesterekstilinski]

I want to talk about the Teen Wolf siblings, particularly their age differences.

Brett is a freshman in season 4. We don’t know how old Lori is, but later she says Brett only accepted the scholarship at Devenford if they would accept her as well. This means either Devenford includes some middle school as well as high school, Lori was smart enough to skip a grade or two, Brett and Lori are 9 months apart, or they’re twins. It’s also possible she’s a couple years younger and was only recently accepted, but since he bargained for her from the beginning, I don’t think it’s as likely.

Based on the short audio clips from “Motel California” it sounds like Boyd and Alicia were close in age, both pretty young, but when we see her body she looks a little older. I would assume he’s older since he was in charge of watching her.

Malia and Kylie were close in age based on the framed photo in her room. In “Ghosted” Kylie has mysteriously aged from about 7 to about 12. Though this is likely due to forgetting information and not caring enough to fact check their own work.

The same could be said for Theo and Tara. They seem to be close in age, but the actresses playing Tara look like different ages. I would guess in season 5 flashbacks she was 11 or 12 when Theo was 9, but in season 6 she looks 17.

Isaac is 16 in season 2 and Camden would have been 24. There is a discrepency unless I’m missing something. Since season 2 is early in the year I’m willing to bet Camden would be 25 later in the year. If Isaac is 16 and Camden would be 24, that’s an 8 year gap. But if he graduated in 2006, he was born in 1988 and is approximately 6 years older. There’s no concrete evidence of when either of their birthdays are, so perhaps Isaac’s birthday is before Camden’s and there’s a short period of time the gap is 7 years. The calendar puts his birthday in February.

Kate said that growing up Chris always tried to make her look like the bad guy.  In 3B Chris says he was 18-years-old 24 years ago putting Chris’s birth year about 1969. Kate was born in 1983. That is a 14 year gap. Either she exaggerated or lied, which I would believe, or Chris was an incredibly shitty brother, which I would also believe. Could you imagine 17 year old Chris blaming 3 year old Kate for him coming home late one night or breaking their mom’s favorite vase?

We don’t know how old Gerard is. Alexander was 27 when he died. Alexander was 19/20 years older than Chris, so Gerard was probably in his early to mid twenties when Chris was born. A lot of actors’ ages coincide with their character’s approximate age. Michael Hogan was born in 1949, so if Gerard is around his age, he’s 20 years older than Chris and 34 years older than Kate. But then he would one year older than Alexander. Not impossible, but he is likely older.

Hayden is about 16 in season 5 because she can drive. The youngest a cop can be is 20, so at the very least Clark is 4 years older. It sounds like Clark had been her guardian for a while, so the gap is likely larger.

If we are going to believe the “In Memorium” video from MTV, Laura was born in 1982 and Peter was born in 1976. We never actually know how old Derek is. Jeff said his ID, putting his birthday in November 1988, was fake, but why? What is the significance of it being fake? It served no purpose and I think Jeff just wanted to fuck with us. Especially because it’s not canon in the show, he said it outside of the show. And if we believe the calendar that makes Derek a Christmas baby, why would he make himself only a month and a half older?

I’m going to assume Derek was “with” Kate leading up closely to the fire, meaning late 2004. If Derek was 16, or almost 16 if his birthday is Christmas, that would put his birthday in 1988. So in the pilot he’s 22. In the script he was meant to be 19 but then he was aged up because Jeff thought it was more important to traumatize him than find a way around it. In 3A Cora says she’s 17, which would put them at a 5 year gap. Laura is 6 years older than Derek and 11 years older than Cora. And if Cora was 11 by January of 2005, she was born in 1993.

I don’t know if this is canon or fanon that Talia raised Peter. Regardless, he is about 5 years older than Laura, 12 years older than Derek, and 17 years older than Cora. But Talia would have to be at the youngest 8 years older than Peter, and that’s if she had Laura at 13. In “Visionary” she appears to be about mid-forties. If this is within a year of the fire, then Peter is 26/27. The gap between Peter and Talia could range from 8 to 20 years.

I’m just so interested in these dynamics.

[halestrom]

Trick or Treat? 🧟‍♂️

A trick!! An idea that popped into my head earlier today that I have zero plans to write except for this one snippet.

"Have you ever considered modeling?"

The comment gave Jake pause, and he turned, raising an eyebrow at the man who had asked. If Jake was anywhere other than California, he'd consider the outfit to be garish, but, it was California and maybe his Pastor growing up was right about what he would find here. Nevermind he was stationed here.

"That work for you often?" Jake asked, crossing his arms over his chest, letting himself see past the bright clothing. The man wasn't unattractive, but Jake had been with hotter men.

"What?" the man asked, before he frowned and to Jake's delight, something Javy lamented about since most people didn't find joy in others discomfort, flushed. "Oh, um. No. I wasn't hitting on you. It's um. I'm an fashion designer."

Jake snorted. "Are you now?" he asked, giving the man a once over. "Sure."

The man rolled his eyes and stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Bradley Bradshaw."

"How much you pay for that fake ID?" Jake asked, shaking the hand. "McLovin' might've been a better option."

The flat glare he got in response had Jake smiling a little wider. "Ha. Ha. Ha." Jake could hear the periods. "Look, seriously. You have great cheekbones, your shoulder to waist ratio is perfect and you're the kind of symmetrical that will get people yelling about photoshop. I could think of a dozen photographers who would love to work with you."

It was the weirdest way Jake had ever been complimented and he crossed his arms, trying to hide how into it he suddenly was. "Wow, you really know how to treat a guy," he said, keeping his voice flat.

Bradley, if that was his name and Jake was still holding out on that being real, rolled his eyes. "Look, whatever you're wearing is great. Levi's are a timeless classic for a reason and is that a Maison Margiela? I love their jersey line with the reinforced neck."

"Hanes," Jake said, before Bradley could continued, getting a dumbfounded look. He waved at his shirt. "Hanes. Five pack from Walmart."

"No the fuck it is not." Bradley now looked offended.

"...yes, it is?"

Bradley stepped forward, grabbing Jake by the shoulder and leaning over him, close enough Jake could smell some spicy aftershave that made him want to fucking swoon in like an dumbass from one of those books his sisters told him about. "What the fuck. It's Hanes."

"Why do you sound so offended?"

"It looks good! It shouldn't look good. Did you get it tailored?"

"No," Jake replied, which made Bradley scowl. Now Jake was offended. "I'm having a hard time taking fashion advice from someone who looks like a kindergarten room full of children was let loose in the paint aisle."

"I need to get you out of those--"

"--I thought it wasn't a come on--"

"--and into something of mine."

"Bradley! Hangman!"

Both turned, and Jake raised his eyebrows when he spotted Maverick wandering over, a bright grin on his face. "You two know each other?" he asked, coming to a stop.

"No," they said at the same time.

"I was just leaving," Jake said, sketching Mav a two finger salute. "See you tomorrow, Pops. Bradshaw."

With that, he turned and left before Bradley fucking Bradshaw, since apparently that was gonna be his real name since he knew Mav, could make another offer about his clothes. Jake liked his clothes.