#IT'S GONNA BE ONE HELLUVA RIDE KIDDOS

[keichanz]

Oscurità, amore mio - I

I have absolutely no goddamn clue just what the hell I’m doing with this AU but i’m having way too much fun to stop.

inspired by a book series i’m reading and it’s hilarious and i just kept thinking “what if” and then well suddenly this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ sorrynotsorry

A fair warning: This story is not going to have an actual plot. It’s going to be all over the place. The parts/chapters will be random scenes of whatever my brain decides to concoct, although most of them will most likely be Inukag interactions, rating from K all the way to M. They will probably also be very sporadic. There will be violence, blood (nothing hardcore), sex, and other scandalous/nefarious things. If you’d like me to rate each chapter at the beginning so you know what to expect, lemme know. 

Big thanks go out to @sssuperbartola and @sesshsbae for agreeing to be my Italian customs/facts and translator sources lol. A lot of this story will take place in Italy becasue I wanted a change of scenery and they are my Italian queens <3 thanks guys, I appreciate it so much! Irene I know you were looking forward to this, so I hope you enjoy! ^_^

Note: There has been a title change! Previously known as Dalle Ceneri, Oscurità, amore mio means “Darkness, my love” in Italian. 

Read on AO3.

The only reason why he’d noticed her at all was because out of all of the humans packed like vile smelling sardines into this sorry excuse of an establishment, grinding, swapping spit and outright fucking on the dance floor, her thoughts were definitely not normal considering the type of place this was. Because while everyone else was thinking about sex and booze and getting their next fix…

Hers was of the more musical variety detailing a certain violet creature from the 1950’s that had a penchant for eating people.

As soon as the infuriatingly annoying lyrics crashed through his frontal lobe and demanded his admittedly reluctant undivided attention – because the feminine voice in his head was very loud and damned near drowned out every other voice – he’d nearly spit out his drink trying to withhold the abrupt and completely untoward laugh that bubbled up in his throat. Which was very fortunate, because he’d paid six euros for a single glass of whiskey. He’d rather not waste his money spitting it all over the place.

He’d recovered quickly, however, and against his better judgment, he’d honed in on that feminine voice still mentally belting out those annoying lyrics, and as he focused solely on that particular thought trail – or in this case, song – everything else faded into the background in a dull roar that was easily ignored. The lyrics became crisp and clear in his head, as if they were being said directly into his ear, and with his concentration locked onto his target, finding the source was only the simple matter of slackening his hold, for lack of a better term, on the thought and allowing it to more or less drag his gaze back from whence it originated. He likened the unique sensation to riding along the invisible current in the thought’s wake, so to speak, although it would be harder to explain to someone who was not privy to mind reading as he was.

...one-eyed, one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater. Sure looks strange to me. Well he came down to earth and he lit in a tree...

And in this case the source just happened to be a black-haired bombshell sitting at the other end of the L shaped bar counter, wearing a skin-tight black leather top and skirt that had certain areas on his body tightening coupled with sexy as hell thigh-high boots. However if he had to choose the most starling thing about her, it wouldn’t be her choice in attire, her questionable taste in music, or even the hint of black lace he could see peeking out just barely from under the waistband that clingy leather skirt.

It would be the fact at how utterly and completely bored she looked. With her legs crossed at the knee and her elbow propped on the counter with her chin resting in her hand, her expression was one of blank indifference as she stared sightlessly at the air in front of her, one of her booted feet swinging idly along to the tune in her head.

It was a one-eyed, one-horned—hm?

There was no glass in front of her, suggesting she hadn’t ordered a drink, or if she had she’d declined a refill and already paid her tab. Curious despite himself, he probed a little deeper, sifting through surface thoughts overlaid with the general impatience of waiting, and that should have alarmed him but as distracted as he was, he failed to notice the annoying lyrics had stopped and a pleased smile had surfaced on full, kissable lips.

Oh, there you are.

Inuyasha balked at the thought and frowned. That was...quite random—

I was wondering when you’d finally show yourself. I’ve been singing that atrocious song for an hour now.  I nearly put myself into a coma.

Or perhaps not so random. What?

Well, I had to get your attention somehow, she thought and it belatedly occurred to him that she was speaking to him. Which meant she was aware of his presence in her mind. Shit. I figured singing the most obnoxious song known to man in a place where the norm would usually consist of sex and alcohol would be like homing beacon. Her smile turned sly. Glad to see I was right.

Inuyasha gaped at her. The little wench had played him.

Fuck. Why the hell did that turn him on. What the fuck.

Quickly regathering his wits about him and turning his head so she didn’t catch him gawking at her – this new development required a sense of caution now – Inuyasha schooled his expression and lifted his glass to his lips.

Well, well. This is certainly a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, I must say. Didn’t expect to find another MR all the way out here in this dingy little pub. He tipped his glass back and slanted a glance at the dark-haired woman. She was smiling and looked downright delighted.

Actually, she said and out of his peripheral he watched her swivel around in her stool, dark eyes peering out over the other patrons and he knew she was looking for him. I’m not a mind reader.

He frowned. Then how—

It’s more like…reading an individual’s emotions rather than thoughts, she interrupted and from the look of concentration on her face, she was trying to pinpoint his location using the emotions she could sense from him. Difficult, but not impossible, as evidenced when he saw her look over in his direction, however her eyes passed over where he sat.

Inuyasha kept a neutral face as he pondered her words, and though it was appealing to give a hint as to who she was speaking with, he found himself wanting to draw this out even longer, reluctant to end the exchange so quickly. He lifted his half-empty glass, stared at the amber liquid, and then out of nowhere realization dawned.

If you’re thinking the word ‘empath,’ she said, most likely picking up on the enlightenment that replaced muddled confusion, then you would be correct.

She sounded pleased and Inuyasha tried very hard to mask the surprise that rode on the coattails of that clarification. Empaths were rare, more so than even mind readers, and Inuyasha considered himself fortunate to have run into one here of all places.

Which most likely meant that she was here for a very specific reason because you didn’t just accidentally run into an empath. That was not how it worked. They were rare for a reason; they did not like to be found, and were experts and concealing their presence. So to have this woman openly admit that they were an empath could mean one of two things.

One, she was heavily protected, or two, she was looking for someone.

A minute later after shamelessly rooting around in her thoughts he knew which one it was, and it was a challenge to keep his initial reaction contained, a mix of bewilderment, suspicion, and delight. It was a strange reaction to be sure, and it didn’t exactly bode well for him, but he didn’t care. The situation had just significantly increased in the benefits factor for him, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. And besides…

Inuyasha always liked a challenge.

Intrigued, and not bothering to hide his curious amusement, Inuyasha remained blank faced as her eyes skimmed over him again, no doubt trying to match up the emotions she was sensing to a person’s expressions and movements. So far she wasn’t having any luck and he fought a smirk when he heard an annoyed huff over the dull roar of the pub. What, did she think he was going to make it easy for her?

She suddenly brightened and once again, Inuyasha had to resist the urge to shake his head in amazement. Did she even realize how obvious she was being?

And now you’re wondering why I would out myself like this, she accurately guessed and he had to applaud her. She was very good at what she did which told him she had a lot of experience under her belt. Damn, this just kept getting better.

He wasn’t worried, though. Despite what she was thinking, he wasn’t who she was looking for. He was confident in this because there was one particular reason why he was set apart from other mind readers, a singular advantage he possessed that would become glaringly obvious the second she identified him. It sort of made him disappointed because it would have been a lot more fun if he had been her target.

Well, fun for him, anyway. He couldn’t say the same for her and he lifted the half-empty glass to his lips to hide his grin.

The dark-haired woman laughed and the pleasant sound had his ears involuntarily flicking toward her from beneath his black ballcap. I’d love to tell you, she began and Inuyasha sensed a but. But I think that’s the kind of conversation that should be spoken face to face, don’t you think?

Hah. Nailed it.

So, why don’t you tell me who you are, and we can have a nice long heart to heart outside where we’ll have some…peace and quiet. Whaddaya say? What she did next cemented his idle suspicions that she knew he was watching her despite not knowing where he was; she swung around in her seat and thrust out her chest, fingertips drawing a tantalizing path over her collarbones, across her breasts, then further down her trim figure over a flat, toned stomach.

He couldn’t help it; momentarily forgetting himself he growled but then quickly whipped his head around before she could catch his very appreciative gaze. Damn, he had to hand it to her; she knew exactly what she was doing and if he wasn’t careful he was going to give himself away before he was ready. It was bad enough that she could probably feel his lust for her, and a quick glimpse into her mind revealed she had and was feeling quite proud of herself.

Fuck. He had to do something. He had to give himself an advantage again, up the ante somehow because if he didn’t she’d realize who – and what – he was, ending this little game of theirs, and he didn’t want that, at least not yet. But dammit, she was getting closer to finding—

Inuyasha suddenly stopped, and then wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. Duh, you idiot, he scolded himself, rolling his eyes and then in the next instant, when her eyes were averted for a split second, he vanished.

Kagome scanned the seats at the other end of the L shaped bar again, paused, and then slowly backtracked. Her eyes landed on an empty seat that she could have sworn had been occupied not even five seconds earlier. She tried to remember what he looked like, because the tall, muscular figure that came to mind could only belong to a man, and the more she thought about it, the more she could recall who had sat in the now vacant seat. She hadn’t seen his face, but the thick arm muscles and broad back encased in a black t-shirt had definitely warranted her appreciative attention, and coupled with the short, shaggy silver hair, the attraction had been almost instantaneous and just imaging what all that glorious muscle looked like naked had her body tingling in interesting places.

It was too bad she was on the job, otherwise she probably would have put her seduction skills to good use, but it was just as well he was gone now. Her boss would consider him a distraction, and she could remember quite vividly what had happened the last time she’d allowed herself to become distracted.

She would rather not have a repeat performance of that particular moment in time, thankyouverymuch.

Shaking her head, Kagome huffed and continued her search. Well? she prodded after his emotional grid had been silent for several minutes. She trailed a finger down the slender column of her neck, meant to entice her target as a provocative smile curled her lips. Come to me and we can—

A hand, much larger than her own and tipped with deadly looking claws circled the back of her throat and Kagome’s thoughts came to a screeching halt, her eyes going wide as a gasp whispered past her lips. She tensed, waiting for the inevitable crushing of her windpipe, cursing herself because there was only one person who that hand could possibly belong to.

“Tell me, mia piccola fenice,” a male voice growled in her ear and Kagome shivered as hot breath washed over her neck even as her eyes went wide at his chosen nickname. “How did you know? I find I’m rather curious.” He was so close his chest against her back and she hated herself for wondering how it would feel to have him pressed flush against her. He chuckled and her face flamed.

Get out, asshole. “Know?” she said aloud, feigning ignorance, though she should have known better.

He tsked. “Don’t play coy,” he rumbled and gave a subtle flex of his fingers around her throat, however he didn’t squeeze. “I’m giving you the rare chance to tell me instead of just finding out the easy way. Don’t make me regret that decision.” Talons dragged across her flesh and Kagome bit her lip to stifle any traitorous sounds from escaping.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth since it would be entirely foolish if she refused, Kagome slowly relaxed once she realized he wasn’t going to squeeze her throat and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart, although his breath on her neck was very distracting—

He chuckled again and Kagome mentally screamed, as much as in frustration as to force him out of her private thoughts. Goddammit!

Clearing her throat, her face red as she glared mulishly ahead of her, Kagome tried very hard to ignore the warmth of his hand as she gathered her thoughts. How did one explain what came naturally to them?

“Normal humans are very easy to read,” she began, her voice soft in case of eavesdroppers. “Their emotional grids are very loud and open, unguarded without fear of manipulation because our existence are just myths to them, stories to tell late at night, or whatever. Why should they feel the need to protect themselves against a mental assault, right? It doesn’t take much for me to get a lock on and, well...” She shrugged and he grunted in understanding. “So when I enter a place like a bar, the typical feelings I expect are lust, joy, and a general sense of carelessness.”

Inuyasha considered that and nodded; that’s basically what his nose told him as well so it made sense. It didn’t answer his question, though, so he gestured for her to go on with a wave of his hand.

Impatient, she inwardly snorted and he smirked, but let it go. She sighed, and she sounded a bit piqued as she continued, “You guys, on the other hand, are similar but have one notable difference. Your grids are more subdued. Um...muted, so to speak. You’re privy to the existence of humans such as myself, or even other creatures seeking to destroy, so therefore it’s an unconscious habit for you to mentally guard yourself against anything that might manage to sneak past your defenses, thus your emotions aren’t as loud or open. It’s like...” She paused, wrinkling her nose as she tried to come up with an accurate description. “It’s like your grid is masked, or concealed behind a mesh wall. I can feel them to an extent as little wisps escape through the holes, but unless I’m focused solely on you, I’m unable to get an accurate read.”

Inuyasha absorbed all of that with a contemplative frown, turning her words over in his head, and he didn’t truly understand what she meant until she finished with, not without an eye roll, “So in other words, your presence is an annoying smudge on my otherwise crystal clear and perfect landscape of emotions and it’s instinct to investigate it until I find the source. Happy now, Dracula?”

Inuyasha snorted and couldn’t help but retort back with, “You know Dracula’s not the original name.”

“You’re all the same to me,” was her snappish reply and, goddamn, he loved her sass. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a woman’s company so much when he wasn’t fucking her against the nearest hard surface?

“Yeah, see,” he drawled and something in his voice had Kagome’s brow puckering in puzzlement. “About that. We actually ain’t all the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters,” he said, his tone blasé, “my diet doesn’t include a weekly dose of O positive.”

Completely confused now, because every vampire required blood at least once a week to survive, Kagome jerked herself out of his hold and he let her, his hand falling away. She took a few steps before whirring around to face him, expecting soulless black eyes, a pale complexion, and mouth spread into a lethal fang-bearing grin.

She hit one out of three and though it should have made her feel marginally better, the look he was giving her suggested she was still very much in danger.

*Mia piccola fenice - my little phoenix 

I | II | III

[ladyanaconda]

Helluva Dad Vol. 4: Spring Broken

Bombproof just had to get a cold; it was nothing serious, but he'd need to rest for a few days, meaning that Striker and Jake would have to ride the I.M.P. van to get to work. It might have been a more-or-less intriguing experience if not for the radio music playing at full volume and Blitzo's careless driving. Striker spent most of the ride covering his ears while Jake was peering through the window alongside Millie.

This is why he'd rather ride Bombproof to work.

"Daaad! Can we ride the van with uncle Blitzo more often?!"

"Over my corpse!" Striker shouted over the noise. "Get away from the window, boy! The last thing I want is you losing your head!"

"But it's so fresh out here, dad!"

"Now!"

Jake groaned and went to sit next to his father with an unhappy scowl on his face. "Killjoy."

"Is this your first time riding a van?" Millie asked curiously.

"No, it's my first time riding a van with a crazy driver!" Striker banged on the wall separating the back with the driver's seat. "Hey, Blitz, can't you go any faster?!" he snapped sarcastically.

Jake's face had gained a somewhat greenish hue and his arms were clutching his stomach. "Dad, I think I'm gonna hurl!" he groaned.

"Kiddo, whatever you do, don't hurl on the carpet or Blitzo will deduct it from this month's paycheck! If anything, hurl on Moxxie's fanny pouch!"

"Hey!"

The van making an abrupt turn to get into the parking lot was the last straw for Jake. As he rushed towards the window, the vehicle came to a sudden stop and skidded. Jake would have flown out of the window if Striker hadn't grabbed him by the tail, but the vomit went up to Jake's stomach, all the way to his throat, and flew out of his mouth.

"Are you okay, my boy?" Striker asked, concerned, as he cradled the impling in his arms.

"I hate vans," Jake grumbled, earning a hair ruffling from his father.

"Listen up, you unoriginal pink cum dump! You have three goddamn seconds to get your tampon race car out of my parking spot…!"

Blitzo's voice brought the stunned group out of their daze. Striker stomped out of the van, intending to pummel Blitzo for the awful experience, but stopped in his tracks as he saw the cause of the problem. A pink car had parked on I.M.P.'s only parking spot. And the owner of the car was none other than…

"Oh shit! Verosika!"

The succubus didn't seem to hear him or didn't care. She was seething with rage, her face dripping with vomit. Jake flinched when her eyes fixed on him.

"I should have known you'd be here. I could smell fish for miles, which is odd because I believe the nearest ocean is…" Blitzo fell off the van's cabin, faceplanting on the ground. "Three rings down!"

Verosika outright ignored Blitzo this time and stomped her way towards the van. Jake hid behind his father.

"You little brat-!"

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses, miss!" Striker stood to his full height. The succubus was taller than him, but he never faltered. "My boy didn't to… Well, throw up in your face."

"You should be grateful! You got a facial treatment for free!" Blitzo sneered. Verosika looked like she'd snap at any moment, but she merely huffed and wiped the vomit from her face with a napkin, which she then threw at Blitzo's face.

"I suppose you're the fella who spawned that brat, am I right?" She asked, uninterested.

"I'm the boy's father, that's right." Striker nodded. Is it just him or is the succubus eyeing him eye to toe behind her sunglasses?

"You ought to teach that little spawn of yours some manners, cowboy." Verosika purred the last word in a seductive manner, running her hand down Striker's chest, leaning a bit too close for his liking.

Thankfully, Blitzo got in between them. "I'm surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab," he growled. "I can see you're still a drunken whore, clutching unto that beelze juice bottle like it's the last cock in Hell!"

"They let me out because I'm still famous, and rehab is for sad, loser wash-ups." Verosika took a sip from her flash, sneering as she wiped some drops left on her lips. "So, your sister says hi." Jake made a 'burned' hiss. Striker gave him a stern frown.

"Why are you parking here?! This is the only parking spot my company has, so take your tampon race car somewhere else!"

"Um, Blitz…" Jake pointed at the ground. I.M.P.'s name was crossed out in purple spray paint while Verosika's was written in cursive letters.

The succubus smirked. "I'm doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building…"

"Dad, who's that nasty woman?" Jake asked.

Loona gasped as if the impling has just spoken blasphemy. "Wait, you don't know about Verosika Mayday?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I've seen her in dad's porno magazines, but-" Jake quickly covered his mouth, but it was too late. He laughed nervously when his father stared at him in shock. "Just to clarify, dad, I didn't read. I skipped!"

"I'll talk with you about this later." Striker hissed.

Thankfully, an angry yell from Blitzo distracted them from the argument. "I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that."

"You know Verosika Mayday?!" Loona asked, incredulously.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, her. Yeah, we dated."

"That explains a lot of things." Striker murmured as Millie and Moxxie stepped out of the van.

"Was it before or after she became a pop star?"

"You dated a pop star?!"

Blitzo frowned. "Okay, why are you all acting like that's such a shock?"

"Hello, it's Verosika Mayday?" Loona pointed out.

"It's you?" Jake added dryly.

"I just… Is she blind? Suffering some form of brain damage? I mean, it'd make sense if she had dated Striker."

The cowboy rolled his eyes. "Gee, thank you, Moxxie, but she's not my type."

"Okay, look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be." Blitzo crossed his arms. "I don't pry into your stupid personal lives."

"You do that all the time, sir!"

"Come on, you kinda do that."

"You totally do that."

"Do I have to remind you all the times I've nearly shot you for sneaking into my house at two in the morning?!" Striker snapped.

"So…" Jake grinned mischievously. "What was sex with her like?" He yelped in pain when his father gave him a smack in the back of the head.

*HB*

Jake didn't quite understand what the fuss was about. From what Millie and Loona said, Verosika Mayday was a musical pop star, but dad wouldn't let him listen to her music; when questioned as to why he couldn't, all dad said was that it was for 'adults'.

In the end, Striker managed to distract his son via target practice. Millie would place an apple on her head so Jake could shoot it with the crossbow; Striker was quite surprised that she wasn't frightened in the least.

"Hey, Blitz, what did you do to Verosika Mayday for her to hate your guts like that?" Striker questioned casually.

"It was nothing, really! I merely borrowed her credit card when she was still sleeping and went to Wrath to take horse riding lessons!"

"Well, no wonder she's so mad."

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side."

Striker shrugged. "Sorry, but you're on your own when it comes to relationships."

The door slammed open, startling Jake into shooting the arrow a few inches down, but Millie caught it with a hand. Moxxie looked disheveled, and his face was covered in lipstick marks. All he said was that he needed to lay down as he dropped to the floor. Millie went to check on him.

"What happened to Moxxie?" Jake asked. Striker shifted uncomfortably.

"Let's say that he received too much love," he murmured.

"But it wasn't from Millie, she's right here."

"Oh, Strikeeer!" Blitzo sang as he leaned in closer to the cowboy with a wide, exaggerated smile. "Do you know what's the best part of being the employee of the month?"

"Let me guess: to do you personal favors so you won't have to face your shitty issues yourself?"

"Bingo! I was wondering if you could use your… natural charm," Blitzo quirked his eyebrows coyly. "To have that bitch give back our parking spot."

Striker dropped Moxxie's cup of coffee. "What?"

"You know, a little bit of sweet-talking, flirting. Maybe some oral sex-"

"I know what you mean, Blitz! What I mean is why me."

"Well, you're a ladies' magnet. I don't think you'd have trouble convincing a drunken slut to give you all of her assets."

Striker wasn't sure of how Blitzo always, always, manages to convince him to do that kind of stuff, but in the end, he agreed to try 'without' having to recur to sex. He didn't need to go far, as the band of succubus had taken the vacant offices right in front of I.M.P. Well, no wonder Blitzo was so mad! Meeting up with your ex and finding out you'd have to be in the same building for a bloody week wasn't pleasant.

Striker took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Apparently, the succubus band was still making fun of Moxxie's probably tiny dick. They went silent as soon as he came in.

"Well, look who it is."

"Greetings, miss Mayday." Striker tipped his hat for the sake of courtesy. "I suppose I don't need to explain why I'm here."

"Want a kiss, cowboy?" one of the incubi got a little too close to his liking, prompting Striker to point the barrel of his pistol right at the demon's face.

"Put a hand on me and I'll put a bullet in-between your eyes." the imp hissed, tail rattling.

"Oh, look! His tail is like a baby rattle!"

"Hey, did that cute little impling come with you? I want to eat him with kisses!"

This time, Striker pulled out his angelic pistol. "Leave the boy out of this," he growled, expression dark. The sight of the weapon scared the succubi into silence, all but one.

"Well, well, you certainly have more balls than the little guy with the bowtie." Verosika purred, hips swaying as she approached him. "Too bad I already got a bodyguard, 'cause you look like you'd be good at that." she gently pushed the barrel of the pistol aside with a finger, leaning dangerously close to Striker's face. "I suppose Blitzo is still throwing a tantrum over the parking spot, right?"

"That's right, ma'am." Striker stepped back warily, putting his pistol away. "Perhaps we could reach an agreement, considering that…"

He's dealt with succubi before, but never in such a personal manner. Not ever since… Striker knew what was happening when he realized he had been cornered against the wall. Verosika's hands lay on his chest as she leaned in close to his face. His tail rattled uncontrollably. His bottom tightened at the she-devil's enticing aura.

"An agreement, you say?"

"Y-Yes…" Striker cursed himself for stuttering.

Verosika pulled him closer by the waist, licking her lips. "You have such alluring eyes, cowboy. Reminds me of an anaconda hypnotizing her prey…" Striker grabbed her wrist before she could reach for the zipper of his pants. Verosika laughed, running her other hand down the line of his neck. "Let me kiss you…"

Her lips were inches away from Striker's when she heard a click and something pressing against her stomach: the blessed pistol, firmly held in the imp's hand.

"Nice try, sugar, but my heart already belongs to someone else." Striker sneered. Impressed, Verosika stepped back, smirking.

"Not bad, cowboy. Not everyone can resist my charms. Just for that, I'm offering you a deal."

"A deal?"

"A demon duel. I bet you and Vlitzo's sorry company can't off as many people as we can fuck by the end of the day. If you win, I'll return your parking spot. If I win," Verosika whispered into Striker's ear. Whatever she told him sent shivers down his spine.

Reluctantly, Striker looked up at the succubus, fists clenched. "Game on, bitch."

*HB*

"Alright, shut your assholes, here's how we're going to do this shit. First, we find a fuck ton of clients, we portal up, we have our fun murder time as per usual, we pill all the bodies into a big fucking canoe…" Striker didn't pay attention to the rest of Blitzo's ranting, instead distracting himself by polishing his angelic rifle. "Do you have any questions?"

Jake raised a hand. "What does orgy mean?"

Striker spat his mouthful of coffee right into Moxxie's face while the others exchanged nervous glances. Blitzo cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Let's say it's something you aren't supposed to know about for at least ten years. Now-"

"Where did you learn that word?!" Striker all but yelled, grabbing the impling by the shoulders.

"One of Verosika Mayday's songs is called 'Orgy' and I got curious."

"And where did you hear the song?"

"Loona was listening to it." Striker glared at the hellhound, but she merely shrugged.

"What? It's just a song. By the way, think I can come with you guys this time?"

"Absolutely not," Blitzo said, crossing his arms disapprovingly. "I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. Spring break is no place for vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks yup there who'd drool all over you!"

"Well, I can blend in with humans easily enough. Just let me tag along."

Blitzo blinked. "Wait, say that again?"

"I can blend in…?"

"Do you have a human disguise?" Millie inquired.

"Yeah. Don't you?" Loona widened her eyes in realization. "Wait, you five have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time without human disguises?!"

"What if we did?" Jake asked.

"Let's say it's against the rules to be seen by humans in our real forms."

"Okay, new plan!" Blitzo made a new, crudely-made scribble. "Loonie can help lure the humans to us and we'll take care of the rest. Okay, how about that?"

"Flawless logic."

"There's one little detail. We need enough client killing demands to win this bet so I won't have to-" Striker trailed off as he recalled that Jake was listening. He cleared his throat. "How will we get so many clients in such little time?"

Blitzo grinned. "I got that covered, Strike."

*HB*

Basically, Loona just lured the people on the list to a secluded spot so they could kill them without anyone noticing. Jake still couldn't believe how hot Loona looked in human form.

Jake was sure that something was bothering his father. Ever since he returned from talking with Miss Mayday, Dad acted a bit… edgier than usual. He didn't tease Moxxie as often and focused more on killing the targets. But what gave him away was the fact that he was using the blessing-tipped rifle rather than the regular one. He only uses it when there's something on his mind.

By evening, they had killed twelve people, two offed by Jake with a broken bottle.

"That's twelve kills in the back!" Blitzo laughed as they continued to put the bodies into bags. "I'd like to see that waily snatch orgasm that many…"

"All right, spring breakers! Ya'll ready to get fucked up and make some bitchin' bad choices?!"

The group glanced in the direction of the nearby stage adorned in black and pink just as Verosika stepped out of the smoke in her own human disguise. All the humans on the beach roared in excitement as the concert began. Jake noticed something odd in their behavior. Once Verosika started to sing, they-

Something covered his eyes. "Hey!"

"You're not supposed to watch this, Jakey!" Millie cried out hurriedly. Striker gave her a thankful look.

"Goddammit! That bitch started her goadish mating call! Now she's gonna win all those sex maniacs! We gotta pick things up, guys! He's on the list, Loonie?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah… I-I think so." Striker realized that Loona hadn't even looked at the supposed target. Her attention was focused on Verosika's own hellhound.

"Blitz, I don't think-" Too late. Blitzo had already sliced through the human's skull.

"All right, next one, Loonie, come on." No reply. "Loonie? Wait, where-" Blitzo panicked once he realized Loona was nowhere to be seen. "Where's my baby?!" Striker merely pointed towards Verosika's hellhound. There she was.

"And… We've lost him." Moxxie sighed as Blitzo stomped his way towards the hellhounds.

"Can't blame him. I wouldn't like any guys sniffing 'round my daughter either." Striker murmured. "Anyhow, looks like we'll have to handle the rest of the list."

Millie laughed in excitement. "Hell yeah! Team MMSJ getting shit down!"

Jake wanted to help with the killing spree, but his father put him on a table behind some beer barrels, blindfolded him with his red scarf, and firmly told him to wait for him there. So the impling sat there with a big pout on his face, arms crossed. What's up with dad today?!

"Yeah, party!"

The table was knocked over without warning. Jake fell face flat onto the ground. "Ow! What the…?!"

"Eeww! Oh my god! Fucking possums!"

"Wait, what?" Jake lifted the blindfold and realized the humans had seen him. Before he could try to escape, he was grabbed by the tail and shoved into a barrel of beer.

"Ow! Jake?!"

"Moxxie?! What's going on?!"

"I don't know, I think the humans mistook us for opossums!"

The two imps were thrown about within that confined space, sometimes getting submerged under the beer. They accidentally ended up taking big gulps of the alcoholic beverage.

*HB*

"That boy is in so much trouble!"

He gives him one simple instruction: wait at the table. Then he returns ten minutes later to find Jake and the table gone.

"Hey, Mildred! Have you seen Jake 'round here?" Striker asked Millie as soon as he saw per peering into a barrel.

"He and Moxxie are inside one of these barrels!"

"What? What the fuck are they doing in there?!"

One of the nearby barrels wobbled. Striker tipped it over with a kick, spilling out the remaining beer as well as two familiar imps.

"Moxxie!"

"Jake!"

"Millieee!" Moxxie blurted out in a drunken state. "Hey, when did you get four heads? I wanna kiss 'em!"

"Jake? Are you okay, kiddo? Striker grabbed his son by the shoulders. "Answer me, boy!"

"Hey, daddy! The impling said in-between hiccups." "This water's soo tasty! Can I have more?"

Striker rubbed his temple. "Wonderful. My kiddo's drunk and he's only nine."

"Chill out, cowboy! Just don't tell Striker 'cause he'll make a fuss!" Moxxie giggled.

Striker would have made a fuss if not for the massive sea monster that emerged from the ocean. A loud roar sent most of the humans running away from the beach, but Moxie and Jake were completely unfazed.

"Oooh, fishy! Can I keep it, daddy?"

A long, slippery tongue wrapped around Moxxie and Jake as they were pulled into the monster's mouth.

Striker and Milli exchanged determined nods. The former shot a nearby human to take his bottle and make a molotov cocktail, which he threw at the monster. The explosion was enough to make the creature fall. The imps swam towards the mutant fish, digging their respective knives into its hide just as it got back on its feet. They managed to climb towards the mouth and pry the jaws open; Moxxie and Jake, still in the tongue's grasp, were clumsily punching the monster's uvula. Millie reached out for their hands, but instead of clasping it, the drunken imps merely gave her a high-five.

"Oh, for the love of…!" Losing his patience, Striker went into the mouth and sliced the tongue off. The fish shrieked in pain and spat out the severed organ, and its two captives, with it.

However, the abrupt movement slipped the angelic rifle off Striker's shoulder and sent it down the beast's throat. "Oh, no, you don't! Mildred, think you could keep this thing busy?!"

"Striker, what are you doing?!"

The cowboy took out his knife. "I'm gonna retrieve my weapon."

*HB*

Millie and Striker swam back to the beach, both panting heavily. The latter was covered in the creature's blood after slicing open its entrails, his rifle held tightly in one hand and the bloodied knife in the other. They reunited with Blitzo, Moxxie, and Jake on the shore.

"Oh, yeah, way to show off, guys!· Blitzo cheered.

"Are Mox and Jakey okay?" Millie asked.

"Oh, yeah. They're fine." Blitzo looked down at the still-drunken imps in his arms and dropped only Moxxie to the ground.

Thankfully, Jake had fallen asleep; his young age made him less tolerant of the heavy alcoholized state. Striker carefully took the boy in his arms.

"Aww, they grow up so fast!" Blitzo chirped, teary-eyed, as he watched Jake snuggle in his father's embrace.

Sadly, the relief didn't last long as Verosika and her crew approached.

"That was handled rather… Obvious, don't you think?" Verosika sneered.

"You know, I found this," Striker held up a black and silver flask decorated with hearts. "While slicing through that creature's entrails," he smirked. "And I know for certain that it doesn't belong to any of us." That said, he tossed the flask back to its owner.

"Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world." Millie sneered.

"Oh satan! You all be so… fucked! Haha…!" Moxxie laughed in his drunken stupor.

Verosika was taken aback by the realization that they were right. "Yeah, well, you five nasty ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises." she countered.

"A human called me a possum. I'm not a possum!" Moxxie collapsed face-first into the ground.

"And given that the humans who saw us were in a deep alcoholic intoxication state, they'll probably think it was a product of their imagination." Striker added with a sneer of his own.

Blitzo chuckled. "You know, we could keep this little Bee movie scene on the down-low if you agree to let us use that parking space." Striker nearly laughed at the sour, almost childish scowl on the succubus's face. She was against the ropes and she knew it.

·...Fine."

While the others cheered at their victory, Striker merely sighed in deep relief.

"Hey, Strike, now that we're on it, what did that bitch say you'd have to do if we lost?" Blitzo asked later that day.

Striker's only response was a loud slurping sound with a straw as he enjoyed a well-deserved meatshake.

[helliontherapscallion]

omg pls share the story abt the lecture from that girl’s dad (only if u feel like it) but seriously ppl it’s not that hard to put a mask on to help the spread of a virus. just wear it, it keeps u safe. and for the ppl who don’t care then just wait til it affects u, bcs covid isn’t a game. I just wish ppl were more serious abt it

Ok so sit down and buckle up kiddos and grab some snacks bc this is a helluva ride

Little background info: I have been a section leader for both my junior and senior years now. When the new freshmen came in my first year of being section leader I was hyped as hell. And then this new freshman whips out a lighter and lights it WHILE WE’RE INSIDE THE SCHOOL MIGHT I ADD with a straight face looking off into the distance before we ask her to put it away. She also always has a pocket knife on her that we found on the ground during band camp. I’ll call her POS. 

I tried to like POS I really did, but then she turned out to be a bigoted racist asshole (she also drinks deer blood straight from the corpse and simps over jeffery dahmer so even more red flags). It was extremely hard for me to treat her like I did with the other people in my section, but I managed to treat her the same as the other people and avoided her for the most part (thank god she wasn’t in my subsection I would’ve actually gone insane)

Flash forward to this year. Covid was hitting full force and we had to quarantine for the first two months of our season setting us back by a lot. She was wishywashy about rejoining but as the most senior leader of my section my band director was on my ass about getting a straight answer from her and fast. So I kinda had to force her to give me an answer (which she told me she was doing it quickly which leads me to think she already knew she was doing it) so she already was going into the season hating my guts

When we finally had an in person rehearsal for the first time, she wasn’t wearing a mask so when I asked her where it was she looked at me like I was the dumbass and said in a matter-of-fact tone “it’s in my pocket” and pointed to the confederate flag bandana hanging out of her pocket. Those four words told me that this season was going to be a fuckin long one with her. I just deadpanned (she couldn’t see it tho bc mask, sunglasses, and floppy hat blocking my entire face) and said “I’d rather it be on your face. (band director and marching instructor’s names) will have my ass if they see you not wearing one.” She rolls her eyes and puts it on (at least it was over her nose)

A few months go by with me telling her constantly to put on a mask bc I am responsible for my section and I’d be damned if one of them got sick bc of one idiot being stupid that I could prevent. She is getting madder and madder with each passing rehearsal. 

Band camp rolls around and it changed from 5 13 hour days to 15 3 hour ones and I am already done with her bs. We get our dots and I mentally groan bc she’s next to me for the vast majority of the show. She is between me (an asthmatic) and my close friend (vvv immunocompromised and also hates her, I’ll call her S) so now I’m more worried about covid going around the section. It was in this time that I find out that at least 5 other people out of 20 also have pre existing conditions that make them susceptible. So now I make it even more my mission to make her wear a mask. 

It was in the middle of band camp when she is yet again not wearing a mask (we were just marching without instruments) and I turn to her and as kindly as possible (it was the second time that day) asked her to put on her mask. She once again rolls her eyes and says “ya know, (band director) walked past me 3 times and hasn’t said shit, so I think I’m gonna listen to him and not you.” S and another friend of mine looks over in shock cuz she just talked back to me. They were about to say something but I wove them off. POS wants to fuck with me? Fine. I’ll just go full force with this. She wants petty?? I’ll give her petty, I’ve been holding off all season. 

So I’m marching there for the next twenty minutes quietly seething and counting more aggressively. She’s getting annoyed, but I pull the section leader card and tell her that she needs to be counting as loud as I am bc her feet was lowkey off time. After we break off for a gush and go (very short water break), I go straight to my band director and use my limited water break to tell him what she told me. He apologizes and says that he thought she was just taking a breather. He tells her to put on a mask and she does so and glares at me the rest of the rehearsal. 

She blocks me on all social media and I obviously clown on her in private with the other section leader (he’s more of a pacifist and never really told her to wear a mask which kinda pissed me off but I understood) until she makes a passing comment to my other friend about using the knife she kept in her boot. Now he tells me cuz he’s a good friend and I’m shitting myself at that point bc holy shit I might get shanked. 

I think about telling the band director but I realize that there’s no proof of her saying this and she could easily get out of this so it’s kinda pointless to tell anyone. Plus if she did shank me, she’d get into so much trouble and I’d be laughing at her from my grave/hospital bed. 

Many rehearsals go by and she still refuses to wear a mask so after one rehearsal S and I went to the band director and reminded him about our conditions and told him about how we were worried for our safety (I also told him abotu the other vulunerable ppl in the section) and he says he’s gonna do something. Next rehearsal he gives POS a warning and she begrudgingly wears a mask for the rest of the rehearsal. The next rehearsal rolls by and she isn’t wearing a mask (again) and he sends her home. Major victory for S and I.

The next sectional tho was something I wasn’t expecting. I get there like 10 minutes before it starts like I usually do in a good mood. I get out of my car and go to grab my stuff when a massive white truck with a busted muffler pulls up into the parking space next to me with a cloud of black smoke. The window rolls down and reveals POS’s dad and POS herself in the passanger seat. 

Of course I’m thinking that this is the day I die and start mentally preparing to yell for help to my other section members 100 feet away on the field already.

Mans starts to lecture me saying things like “it’s unhealthy to wear a mask outside bc it’s like a pitri dish under there. 6th grade science!” (I am not joking or overexaggerating with this, he actually said that). I really wanted to say “well, 7th grade science says otherwise, but you wouldn’t know that bc I’m sure you didn’t pass 6th grade, but go off ig” but I didn’t bc I didn’t want to get shanked or disappear randomly. I just tell him that I am only doing what my band director told me to do and that there are tons of people (myself included) that can really get hurt from just being in contact with covid. He says that’s bullshit and tries to tell me that I’m an idiot before I cut him off by telling him once again that I am just trying to protect my section and that the sectional was going to start soon so I didn’t have the time for this. I walk away leaving him trying to keep talking to me and soon enough POS gets out of the car and follows me to the field giving me a smug smile on her unmasked face before she puts it on when she sees the other section leader stroll up. 

Lemme paint the picture for you: this guy (a 6′something burly guy in his 50′s that I know has like two felonies under his belt) pulls up next to me (a 5′2 17 year old ball of anxiety that drives a small yellow car) and starts to borderline yell at me. Traumatizing. I was shaking for the rest of the sectional and I spent the rest of the season looking over my shoulder looking for the glint of a knife swingin at me

Now I’m pretty sure she’s suspended bc she was caught with a knife on school property and she wore a confederate t-shirt to school, but I would be lying if I said I don’t still look over my shoulder or speed up when I drive past her house lmao

[kickingitwithkirk]

Blame the Pot Pie

Summary: Dean and Y/N have a little too much fun after a hunt resulting in an unexpected dilemma.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline

A/N: for @amanda-teaches #2k writer+reader challenge

Word Count: 2623

Warnings: angst, kissing, fondling/foreplay, oral teasing, mention of unprotected P/ V sex-wrap it up kiddos, some cursing, public shaming, mentions of drug use, drinking, unplanned pregnancy, use of Plan B One-step, possible pregnancy termination

Prompt: “Twins? We’re…we’re having twins?!”

A/N II: Cherry-She completes your life

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

Colorado 

I slowly wake up so relaxed I can’t remember the last time feeling this good. The hunt turned out to be a simple salt and burn and after grabbing a shower and a bite, we stopped at the local dispensary to pick up a few necessities and found couple new items to try.

Stretching languidly, I glance over my shoulder at Dean, tiger striped by the morning light seeping through the drawn blinds, asleep on his stomach clutching his pillow, thankfully not bunched up under his head making him snore. 

Many moons ago, I learned the hard way not to disturb a sleeping Dean Winchester when I tried to roll him over to stop the horrendous snoring he’s capable of when completely exhausted. That little maneuver got me the barrel of his Colt 1911A1 in my face and incoherent yelling. 

I slept with Sam for a long time after that.  

Smiling, I remember Jack telling me Cas calls Dean a very angry sleeper, like a bear. Can’t argue with feathers on that.

The bed dips behind me and a strong arm wraps around me with a smooth, sleep warm chest pressing flush to my back, “Wha’ so musing?” Dean’s drowsy, gravely voice asks as he nuzzles into my neck.

“Remembering a Cas’ism,” I replied, wriggling closer, his morning wood pressing against me, “Someone's wide awake, didn’t get enough last night?” Dean rocks his boxer brief clad cock against my ass in response. 

“Or a little while ago?”

“Never get enough Cherry.”

I’ve always heard Dean call women sweetheart and occasionally baby but the first time Dean called me Cherry shocked the hell out of me. 

I asked him if he knew what that nickname meant, after all, this is the guy who called himself meat man to his own brother. 

He winked at me, cheeky bastard.

I shift onto my back as Dean moves to straddle my thighs, locking them between his muscular ones. Starting at my hips his calloused hands slowly glide over my body, pushing the t-shirt I stole from him to sleep in up, exposing my skin to his hungry gaze. 

In our world, Dean Winchester is considered the best hunter alive, his only equal is his brother Sam. But there is another side to him that's rarely seen, reserved only for those who are family.

Dean can be incredibly gentle, loves waking me up with his teasing touches. Reaching my breasts, his thick fingers massage my nipples, sending shivers through me, pinching them hard enough they pebble up before continuing on to my arms, guiding them upwards and pulling the shirt over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

Leaning over me Dean braces himself on his strong forearms entwining our fingers. He’s close enough I feel his breath on my face as I untangled my right hand and caress his scruffy cheek, tracing his full lips, feel him smile against my fingertips. 

He turns his head and kisses my palm before closing the sparse distance to my lips, running his tongue across them, encouraging me to open up to let him explore inside. 

Boy, does this man know how to kiss.

Dean pulls back, my bottom lip between his teeth before letting go, moving to kiss along my jaw and shifts to latch onto my neck, sucking on my pulse point.

“Hmm, you're gonna give me another hickey,” Dean sucks harder in response. I grab his hair on top where it’s longer, tugging till he pulls off to look at me. 

His eyes are dilated and not just from desire. 

“Dude, you’re still stoned.” I grin at him. Last night we kicked back with a few beers and a joint, trying a new hybrid strain.

Then came that pie.

“ ‘m not,” Dean tried sounding indignant before laughing, dropping his head back into my neck as we both laugh uncontrollably. I love to hear him sounding so untroubled, doesn’t get to do it enough.

Our outburst causes certain bits of us to rub together, reigniting our lust. Dean starts moving southward again, lips and tongue caressing my skin along his travels, stopping at his chosen destination and looks up at me licking his bottom lip.

“Frigging tease!” I pull his hair harder. 

He smirks and, without breaking eye contact, slowly runs his tongue up over my outer lips before sliding off the end of the bed, turns, bending over sheds his underwear before walking towards his duffel.

Man has no shame so I freely admire his retreating posterior view.

Hunting has kept Dean fit the nearly twenty years I’ve known him, even with the double bacon cheeseburgers with extra onions and copious amounts of booze, thou not quite the same body he had at twenty-three.

I’ve witnessed guys our age be greener than his eyes envying his not-a-dad-body, possessing the juiciest peach of an ass on any man I’ve ever known. 

He’s rooting in his duffel muttering, not coming up with a condom. “Try the table,” spotting the Walgreens bag by the empty pie tin. 

“Sonuvabitch!” Dean exclaims, running both hands through his hair in his shitshitshit gesture looking panicked at the table. 

I sit up...ooh crap, I feel a warmth spreading between my thighs that shouldn’t be. 

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“What do you mean I can’t purchase it,” I’m about to go mental on this bumfuck towns pharmacist refusing to sell me Plan B, “I can see it right behind you.” 

“I’m sorry I’m unable to sell you the Plan B-One Step today, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He raises his voice for the benefit of the locals eavesdropping on our conversation. 

“Wait, I can purchase it tomorrow but not today,” I’m confused as hell and stare incredulously at the guy, “what’s so special about today?”

“It’s the sabbath, you should consider repenting for your obvious sins.” He retorted.

I blink not sure how to respond what this AssButts implying... when it hits me.

It’s the guy who runs the dispensary we went into last night, chatted with us, recommending some items to try. He saw us kissing and cuddling like a couple of teenagers (who'd thought it would take Chuck ending the other realities for Dean Winchester to PDA) must've overheard Dean whispering graphically on how he was gonna savor that pie and me, then slyly pointed out a few the topical products to try for a happy ending.

I suddenly feel like Olive in Easy A when everyone’s talking about her as I hear the tittering around me get louder, comments about the way I’m dressed, not having a ring on it, and the visible hickeys on my neck at my age. 

Jealous much?

I look down realizing I had grabbed the first articles of clothing within reach, turns out to be Dean’s stuff that’s to big on me, including his boots.

And like Olive, I’m taking back control.

”Romans 2:3 And thinkest thou this, O man, that judgest them which do such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God?” 

You could hear a pin drop, “Y’all need to consider that before passing judgement on others,” I clap back and head high, walk past the shocked gossip mongers towards the exit, ”especially ones versed in Hermeneutics.”

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We crossed the Kansas border around eight that night, same Motörhead cassette playing all day. We haven’t spoken since leaving the motel late this morning. 

Dean's jaw’s still ticking, he’s gonna have a helluva headache. His hand has a death grip on the wheel as he reaches for the Impalas lighter, igniting what must be like his eighteenth cigarette. There’s only one reason he’s smoking since Sam got him to quit umpteen years ago.

Dean’s freaking out. 

I slide across the seat and ran my fingers along the back of his neck, lightly scratching into the short stands. “It’s both our faults, stop castigating yourself. I’ll get the pill tomorrow, being at the bunker it will be better when I take it, had a nauseating headache and cramped like hell last time.”

He shot me a surprised glance, “You, khmm, you had to… before?” His voice rougher with all those damn cigarettes.

“Once, wasn’t gonna chance it that one had slipped past the goalie.” 

When Dean and I finally got together we agreed since so much of our lives is built on lying to others to get what we need, there wouldn’t be any between us. But breaking a lifelong habit is not easy, we’re still figuring stuff out and on several occasions intentionally hiding things has almost ended us.

Dean snubs out the cigarette, takes my hand and kisses my palm before entwining our fingers, resting them on his thigh rubbing his thumb over mine. I scoot closer, place my head on his shoulder and he turns to kiss my forehead comforting me.

“Don’t even think about kissing me on the mouth before brushing your teeth twice and gargle with holy water mister.” I growl mimicking his scary Dean voice and he gruffs out a laugh like I hoped he would.

“I’m sorry I’ve reacted like that back at the motel. I’ve never forgotten before, no matter how loaded I’ve been. Except that once…”

Dean’s voice falls off at the memory of the only child he’s positively known to have had, the Amazon daughter who’d have killed him if not for Sam.

I turn and kiss his cheek before laying back against his shoulder for the rest of the ride home.

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The Bunker

Seven weeks later

“The stay-at-home orders will be extended for another two weeks as the state has seen a rise in positive coronavirus cases over the weekend. Officials say this is likely due to the expanded testing around the state…” 

“You could’ve sent us frogs or locusts but noooo, had to get creative on this one Chuck.” Dean sarcastically grumbles, switching off the kitchen radio and finishes cooking his breakfast. 

Jack had grabbed a bowl of cereal before disappearing with Cas researching some new cryptic info that Billie had dropped on them the other day. Dean heard the main door bang shut at Sam’s returning from his morning run. 

As he passes the freezer he grabs a smoothie setting it on the counter to thaw out since Sam’s drinking some weird concoctions for breakfast these days.

Sam enters the kitchen unexpectedly still in his sweaty clothes carrying a couple store bags and a concerned expression.

 “Um, Dean, I don’t think Y/N has the flu,” he remarks, pulling out the unmistakable yellow and blue box. “I bought these two months ago.” 

Dean looked up from his plate of bacon and cheesy eggs, eyes focusing on the unopened box. “Since when do you get my girlfriends things?” He asks, nodding at the box. 

“Tampons, Dean. I’ll sometimes pick them up for her when it's my turn to do the shopping. I got these at CVS,” Sam shows him the receipt he found with them, “Y/N usually gets them from Rite-Aid.” 

Dean clears his throat, mentally wincing at how his brother seemed to know more about Y/N’s preferences than him, “How do you know that’s the box you bought, maybe she got them there too?” 

“The date on the receipt and she hasn’t updated her app.”

“App?” Dean inquires around a mouth full, looking confused.

“So a few days ago I was showing Jack the new archive program when a notification popped up about Y/N’s Period Tracker not being synced in fifty days. I didn’t think anything of it, figured she missed it with everything going on, Jess sometimes did with hers. I checked the WC and found these. I checked again today they were still there and she hasn’t entered her last two periods. I stopped in town and got this.” He hands the other bag to Dean.

Dean opens the bag like something’s gonna attack him before gingerly pulling out the Clear Blue Digital Pregnancy Test.

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“It could be wrong, a false positive because she took it wrong.”

“All you do is pee on the end of the stick and wait three minutes for the results,” Sam's tone exacerbated at his brother's bullshit excuses, “even you couldn’t screw that up Dean.”

“She could be in that peripause.”

“What the hell is peripause?”

“Don’t you know what it’s called Mr. Know-it-all?”

“Peri-menopause,” My voice booms throughout the library startling them both, “and FYI you two, when a woman hits her forties all this,” I say gesturing in a circle around my middle, ”doesn’t automatically stop functioning normally.”

“Your forty-one! The chances of you getting pregnant goes down after thirty something!” Dean snaps setting me off in a nanosecond.

“Halle Berry got pregnant the old fashion way at forty-seven!” I shot back really pissed at the shitty excuses he’s trying. “Should’ve known you’d react like dear old dad to unwelcome news.”

Sam shot out of his seat at the expression crossing Dean’s face, contorting into the look that makes monsters with any sense run for its life, ready to step in if needed.

“Since I can’t go to the clinic thanks to Chuck's latest temper tantrum get Castiel so we can settle this,” I head for the doorway leading to the kitchen and pause.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. It’s obvious you don’t want to have a baby w...” I hurried out not finishing the sentence. Fucking hell, I’m hormoning already.

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Dean can’t stop pacing back and forth in my bedroom as Castiel gently lays his hand over my lower abdomen and closes his eyes in concentration. 

“Come on man, is she or isn’t she?” Dean impatiently barks at the angel.

“Dude!” Sam snaps with his exasperated little brother expression from the desk chair he’s seated upon with Jack perched on the desk itself.

Cas opened his brilliant blue eyes wondrously staring into mine.

I stare back. 

“Yes, you are pregnant.” 

“How the hell are you pregnant? You said you took the morning after pill!” Sam’s chair scraped the floor as he jumped started by Dean’s lashing out at me in anger. I don’t react knowing it’s his go to coping mechanism when he’s scared.

“She took the pill Dean.” Cas reassures him at the same time tipping his head to the side reading what I’m not voicing. 

I can’t believe it failed..what could it do to the fetus...the alcohol and drugs I’ve ingested all this time...

Castiels rough voice takes on an unusually gentle cadence snapping me out of my own head, “I do not detect any birth defects Y/N, they are quite healthy.” 

“Wait, what do you mean they Cas?” Sam speaks first seemingly the only one who caught the last bit. 

“Twins? We’re…we’re having twins?!” Jack excitedly blurts out, “I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“I think we should leave. Dean and Y/N have a lot to discuss.” Cas says getting up cocked his head at Jack to proceed him out the door. Sam gives his brother a look I can’t decipher.

“I’m good Sammy,” Dean tells his brother so he’ll go, not breaking eye contact with me. 

Sam gazes over at me and I nod it’s fine to leave. He squeezes Dean’s shoulder and heads out shutting the door behind him.

We stare at each other for a few moments before Dean rubs his face and walks over sitting down on the other side of the bed and pulls me into his arms, neither of us ready to face the decision that makes the most sense.

tbc

A/N: I originally planned on ending this here. That being said, I am seriously considering doing a part II because I hate breaking Dean’s heart.

A/NII: I’ve gotten a lot of great feedback and will be doing a part Il.

Find it here

[rkmason]

on time ,  190209

INCOMING CALL FROM MOM,            ANSWER: [ YES ] [ NO ] 

the answer is always yes, unless he suddenly has a death wish but with everything going on, he guesses it wouldn’t be far-fetched for someone to think he might have one. “hey ma,” he answers, running his hands over his face. “ i promise i’m not riding my bike ‘round town.” right now. he had been earlier but it wasn’t a reckless ride. after years, he knew his limits, knew and saw his own friend go through what happens if you carelessly toe that line, and he can’t add onto the list of reasons why mijoo and any of his family and friends have to worry about him. 

her laughter sounds muffled and he knows she’s still on set, undoubtedly stubborn about both wanting to get the job done perfectly and getting it done quickly to be there for her son. “i’m good, ma. you know how i am,” shoving his hand in his pocket, he fights back a yawn, not wanting her to know he hasn’t slept yet. an unintentional all-nighter as he rethought his entire life, all the decisions he made, the road not taken, words left unsaid. he’s zoning out a little until his mother asks where he is and brows furrow as he brings his attention back to the call. “nah, i’m not home. why’d you say it like th— dad?” 

there’s no mistaking it, that’s his father standing in front of his door with the same carry-on luggage rome used to see him leave home with every other week when he was a kid. his mom’s words are rushed now but he gets that the gist of it all is: you met up with him so i’m going. with his mom at least in the same continent as him, he would’ve expected her at his doorstep a helluva lot sooner than he’d predict his father there. 

“uh, hey, dad,” he pauses, still more awkward with his father on his own than he is with the matriarch of the family. “why are you h—” arms wrap around him and his eyes widen, recalling the last time being a lot shorter, a lot less serious, and much more confusing. 

“let’s go inside. it was a long flight,” his dad looks more casual than he’s ever been and rome’s baffled, a bumbling mess again in front of his father. 

“uh, yeah. no, ‘course it was.” 

—

the next morning, he wakes up to a home cooked breakfast and he wonders why his father is doing all this, why he’s here during one of the busier times of the year— that said, there’s not much of a slow period for his dad’s firm. 

“i’ve got a few meetings this morning but eat up and let’s go out for lunch, okay?” 

there’s still no clarity in sight but rome nods as he takes a few bites of scrambled egg, watching his dad casually leave as if this were their place back in sydney. he goes through what’s a semblance of a morning routine since he’s left sphere: morning jog, a shower, and texting a few of the guys about their plans today to see if he can lend a hand. seik is still the one least likely to answer him and he can’t blame the guy, especially when he’s upset over dabin too. today, he gets a response and he knows it’s because he mentioned his dad is in town and seik asks the same question rome has on his mind: 

                                                   is he gonna ask you to come home? 

—

lunchtime comes just like that and he feels unproductive even though some of his previous students have arranged sessions with him. he worries about the paperwork but it’s all surface-level, nothing deep enough for him to be actually concerned, and he thinks he’s falling into a rut before anything happens. he doesn’t know if he has to dress up in business casual or not. the last time he met his father alone for lunch like this, it turned out to be an interview for university, the same one he got into back home, the one he turned down to come to seoul. 

getting ready as if he’s about to meet one of his students, he comes in slacks and a white button-up only to change in the end when his father texts that they’re gonna grab some food and take a walk around the neighborhood. some of the guys are already set-up in his studio when he leaves and he’s glad for a distraction from how much he’s missed since diving back into the idol industry. 

his dad’s got a bag of convenience store food with him when he catches up to him and rome hides his surprise behind his excitement that it’s some of his favorites. how his dad managed that, he’s got no idea. 

“so... what’s up, pa? got somethin’ on your mind?” better to get it over with now than later, he tells himself as he takes a bite into the shrimp tempura rice ball. damn delicious, he praises it in his mind before taking a longer look at his father. 

“i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you in the past.” 

‘course he ends up choking on such good food. 

“it’s alright,” his brows are heavily knit together and he has to wipe his hand on his jeans. “i mean, it’s in the past, ya’no.” 

his dad chuckles, shaking his head, and rome thinks they look awfully alike when his father does that. “you were too easy-going as a kid. you still are. that’s why i was surprised by how much of a fighter you are.” 

he doesn’t get it at first but he figures it must be referring to how stubborn he was about pursuing the arts. rome shrugs and he further proves his dad’s point right. 

“that’s how i knew you’d tell any of us it’s okay that you were kicked out of the group.” 

everything sounds muffled now, his heart’s in his throat by the way it’s closing up, and he avoids meeting his father’s gaze. 

“you grew up into a fine young man and i can’t take any credit for it.” 

“come on, pa. that’s not true,” and it’s not to him. his father taught him plenty, even if he wasn’t actually around for him most of the time. the taste in his mouth used to be bitter, metallic, when he thought of his relationship with his father but he never hated him. he couldn’t. he can’t. 

“you learned a lot on your own. you’re like your mother that way, learning by going out there and figuring things out by yourself. you’ve made sacrifices too. your mother made her own when she got married. when you kids were younger... she couldn’t go out on assignment as often and she loved you guys but i know she was upset with me. i told her my career was more stable, to let me work instead.” 

fragments of the arguments he used to hear his parents have make more sense as his dad continues but he doesn’t want him to know that he heard. he’s never once told either of his parents that he knows why his father had so much doubt when he was born. 

“she’s happier now with her career and it took me too long to see that. i don’t want to be late for you too. i know i have been,” he sighs, clapping a hand onto rome’s shoulder. “but not anymore so let’s talk, kiddo. your studio’s a mess.” 

“pa.”