he's home... in nevada

Good Boy *Dean Ambrose Imagine*

Dean Ambrose fluff and a dog what more could you want?

Summary: Dean Ambrose’s girlfriend receives a career ending injury so they pick out a dog to keep her company while he’s on the road. 

Warnings: Slight cursing, mention of injury

Originally posted by lovablecouples

Originally posted by fuckwrestling

“And then there’s this guy” the sweet older woman pointed to the last steel fence cage and paused crossing her arms over her blue vest.

I tore my eyes away from the mixed puppy that was eagerly lapping it’s pink tongue through the gate to tickle my fingers, the puppy jumping on its short hind legs begging for more attention.  I stood dusting off my jeans. Inside the last cage at the end was different than the rest. For one, as I approached a dog hadn’t bound up barking in excitement, tail wagging, no, this dog lay stagnant on the floor. If it weren’t for his dark whiskey colored eyes flashing up at me I would have thought he was dead.

“What’s the story on this guy?” Dean asked placing his hands in his pockets as I knelt next to the door.

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Jason Moss was a true crime writer and criminal attorney. He rose to fame after writing the book The Last Victim, about the serial killers he had met and defended throughout his lifetime. He became friends with several notorious serial killers, most notable John Wayne Gacy, who he is pictured with in the top left.

In 2006, Moss committed suicide after struggling with depression. He was found at his home in Nevada with a self-inflicted gunshot wound on June 6th. The signifigance of the date he chose (6/06/06) has been heavily discussed by many. He was said to be “heavily involved” with Satanism and would correspond with Satanic serial killer Richard Ramirez(bottom picture) before his death. In 2010, the film Dear Mr. Gacy was released in memory of his life.

Update: Hope everyone had a fun Easter!!! Check with @xemopeachx tonight for the Season Finale! <3


Nevada watched his men put another shipment of paintings in the warehouse on St. Nicholas as OJ came up and nodded to him.

“Todo bien jefe. Everybody’s in place on our end,” he said.

“Good. Jasper said he’s good to go in Hell’s Kitchen. We hit their clubs first. It’s their biggest money maker, that’ll slow ‘em down,” Nevada replied. “I’m gonna go see if my wife’s home,” he added, patting OJ on the back.

Nevada got on his bike and rode back to Amsterdam Avenue, parking on the curb in front of his apartment building and going up to the top floor. When he walked in, he could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen, and he saw you idly stirring something in the pot on the stove while you read your book.

Coming up from behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his nose against your neck. It felt just like old times.

“Are you making anything besides soup? I can already hear Eddie bitching that we’re starving him,” he mused, laying a wet kiss on your neck.

“Arroz con pollo…with a twist and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with customer complaints,” you gestured to your wooden spoon jokingly. You spooned some of the rice, letting him taste it, the tingle of season ginger made the rice practically a meal in itself.

He hummed his appreciation, swallowing and turning back to playfully bite your ear.

“It’s good, but I think this meal better,” he purred as one hand pulled up the hem of your skirt to reveal granny panties. He furrowed his brows, glancing down at them and snorting softly. “Coño, what is your pussy on lockdown?” he teased.

You turned to him and smiled as you rolled your eyes. “No, but I’m spotting today. So kind of…”

He frowned a little. “Did I go too hard this morning?” he asked softly.

“No, no you’re fine,” you assured and kissed him softly. “This happened after Lily too, sometimes I just…bleed a little.”

“Okay…how was your lunch with Izzy?” he asked, moving to pick NJ up from the swings, which you’d brought into the kitchen.

The baby stuck his tongue out and cooed, looking up at Nevada with a soft smile.

“It was wonderful, we had such a good time.”

“She say whether or not Rafael won that case that was tearing at his asshole?” he asked, looking down at the baby boy and smirking back at him.

“He did win, I went to visit him and he’s crazy sick right now, but I met his pretty British girlfriend,” you beamed and took a deep breath, finished the dinner. “How was your day papi?” You smiled at him.

NJ chewed on his tongue, then cooing again as his eyes widened at Nevada. Fiona started to cry, fussing her her seat and NJ, hearing his sister’s cries, stuck out his bottom lip as it started to tremble.

“Good, everything’s ready to go. British girlfriend? Como que British girlfriend? He’s bringing women from over seas now? I thought he was sticking it to the neighbor chicas. That’s over?” he asked..”

You snorted a laugh. “He stopped, this girl is someone he met when he went to London with Izzy. She’s beautiful and very sweet. She flew down because he’s sick.”

“Ay que cute,” Nevada cooed, though it slightly sarcastic. “She hot?” he asked, smirking at you.

You smirked back, “Damn right, and if you touch her, you’ll get burned,” you teased back. He chuckled, gesturing down to Fiona with his chin.

“Oye, do me a favor, grab princesa number two before she shits her pants. I’m gonna watch the episode of Shark Week I missed last night with them,” he said, moving into the living room and sitting on the couch setting NJ down on one side of his lap and reaching for the remote.

You moved and grabbed Fiona, setting her on the other side of Nevada. “Dinner is in an hour, okay?” You kissed them all and headed to the kitchen.

The babies both leaned against Nevada, the occasional kick and cough.

“Oye, atención, los dos. That’s a great white shark. Mira como se come ese seal,” he commentated as the shark on the screen came up underneath it’s prey, jumping ten feet above water. “Mira que cosa mas grande!”

The door opened and Jose walked in with Eddie and Lily, holding the toddler’s hand. Eddie ran straight upstairs.

“Papi! Look, I painted a picture!” Lily exclaimed, showing Nevada a picture of him, cigar between his teeth as he stood beside a man tied to a chair.

“Que lindo! Oye, where did you come up with that? Papi doesn’t tie people to chairs. Go show your mom.” He waited until Lily ran into the kitchen before he looked over at Jose, who was looking at him with an arched brow. “I didn’t lie, you guys tie them to chairs, not me.”

Jose snorted, waving a goodbye and leaving.

“Mami, papi wanted me to show you my picture!” Lily said happily, holding it high for you to see.

“Oh baby! How lovely,” you smiled a bit and looked it over. “Can I put it on the fridge, my love?” You picked her up and kissed her face with a warm affection. “Why does daddy have a friend tied to the chair?”

“He owes him moneys,” she replied matter-of-factly, going to the fridge and opening it up. “I want string cheese,” she added.

“Sure baby,” you smiled and handed her the cheese. “Vamos, go sit with papi and watch the sharks. You can have one cheese. But I don’t want you spoiling your dinner.”

“That’s bull crap,” she replied, crossing her arms and pouting up at you.

“Oye, watch your mouth Mami, you are not to old to get pow pows,” you scolded her.

She growled softly under her breath. “I’m gonna get myself a chocolate chip cookie,” she muttered, walking over to the opposite counter, taking a bite from her cheese.

“No, not before dinner, entiendes. You can play in your room or watch tv with papi, pero, no more snacks before dinner.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes and moving into the living room.

When dinner was ready, you called everyone down to eat. Nevada held the twins a little longer before he set them down in the swings.

“Soup?! I am a growing boy, are you trying to starve me?!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Te lo dije,” Nevada said softly, smirking at you. “It’s arroz con pollo, pendejo. Eat it. Or I’ll tell Cleo que you moved to Siberia,” he said to his nephew.

Eddie rolled his eyes and shoveled his meal into his mouth. You smiled and watched everyone eat while you grabbed a bottle for both babies and fed them.

“Eddie, did you get the information del dorm like I asked?” Nevada inquired, finishing his bowl in a hurry and taking NJ from you, leaving to only have to feed Fiona and able to eat with your free hand.

“Oh…I forgot again,” Eddie shrugged. “Whatever, I’ll check tomorrow.”

“Oye con el tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow. What are you, fucking Hamlet over here?” Nevada asked.

“Macbeth,” Eddie said with a quirked brow. “And chill tio, I got time. I’m busy.”

“Busy, como que busy? Oye, you graduate in a month, baboso, you better get your shit together,” Nevada replied. “Those things are gonna be full by the time you bring ua the info on it,” he added. “Este chiquito. Time ni un carajo,” he mumbled, burping NJ.

NJ burped loudly and farted right after, making a familiar bubbling sound that said diarrhea was close behind.

“Aaaaannnd my appetite is gone,” you laughed and patted Fiona until she burped as well.

Nevada made a face, looking at you. “You want me to handle it, or you got him?” he asked.

“I did last diaper,” you said with a smirk. “Your turn.” You blow him a kiss and pat Fiona who also takes that moment to poop. You cringed. “And now I’m coming with you…” you sighed.

He laughed softly, moving upstairs to the nursery. He let you change Fiona on the changing table attached to the crib, while he took the one on the pack and play.

“Coño NJ!!” he mused when he’d gotten the diaper off. “Look at this, Dama. Oye, I don’t know about you, pero his shits make me proud,” he said, pulling the diaper open only long enough for you to look before he laid the top back over NJ to block any urine that might have escaped.

“Oh good boy,” you cooed. “He hadn’t pooped much yesterday, I was getting worried.”

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Bernie ‘16 is not playing out like Obama ‘08.  Let that myth go.

Everybody keeps trying to compare Bernie to Obama because he unexpectedly took Clinton down 2008.  Bernie didn’t perform as well as Obama did on Super Tuesday eight years ago.  Obama actually won more states and more delegates than Clinton did.  He didn’t leave Super Tuesday still playing catchup.  I’m all for supporting your candidate, but let’s not re-write history folks especially when maps are hella searchable online.

Plus, Obama won Iowa.  And then he won Nevada and South Carolina.  And then he took home more delegates and won more states than Clinton on Super Tuesday.  Obama was already on pace for the nomination and Hillary Clinton was the only reason the campaigning went all the way through June – she wasn’t ready to concede defeat in a contest that she was losing from the very beginning.

This is absolutely not the same race, and if there are any similarities, they’re between Clinton ‘16 and Obama '08.  Bernie will pick up a few more states with a large white majority (probably Ohio, certainly Maine, maybe Michigan) in the upcoming contests, and that’s it.  Hopefully his campaign will see the math earlier than Clinton’s did in '08 so we can stitch the party back together and figure out a way to take out the Trumpster Dumpster.  

As of now, this contest is only serving to make Bernie supporters see Hillary supporters as blind sheep ignorant of her evils, and  Hillary supporters see Bernie supporters as keyboard bullies who don’t really know how the government works.  At some point we have to get back on the same team, and it should be sooner rather than later.