#My Sir Douchebag OC

[my-prompt-dump]

WIP for Soldier Boy x OC JPad character on The Boys that I made up based on this post

Jared's character will allude his Sam character and some demonic elements too. I think it'd be a nice touch too to name him Sam, Nick, or even Dean (both for spn and gilmore girls reference)

ANYWAY

For this WIPs sake, he's Sam Moore (very original). He's one of the scientists that is doing tests on Soldier Boy while he's stuck in that facility Homelander put him in.

At first, Soldier Boy hated the guy. Doing weird ass tests and poking him with shit he can't pronounce (don't get him started on the stupid electroshock BS that's "important to test your brainwaves" or whatever nerd speak). Seriously, this dude is so pretentious.

Sam is mostly cold to him but after a while, Soldier Boy got bored of being a douchebag and decided to just be an annoying asshole instead. With nothing else to entertain himself, he cracked jokes and yapped about everything until one day, he got a reaction out of Sam. The man rolled his eyes in exasperation from his latest creative joke of the week.

"Ha! So you do have a sense of humor!"

Sam doesn't remove his focus from writing down today's test results. "Never said I didn't."

"Admit it. You find me funny."

"Hilarious." Sam said sarcasticlly.

"By the way, Sammy. When's this thing gonna end? This shit is lasting longer than usual."

"Maybe if you shut the fuck up once in a while, we'd get done faster."

"I feel bad for the girl you're fuckin' if that's how you think."

Then one time Sam missed a schedule. His tests were performed by a girl too shy to be acting like a torture scientist. He asks the girl if Sam had a day off or something as nonchalantly as possible, to which the girl just said: "Sam is uh, indisposed! And he is not allowed to leave the premises, Mr. Soldier Boy sir."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"I uhm- I do not have the authority to share that with you. Sam will be back as soon as he can."

"But where is he?"

"Sam is still indis-"

"Yeah. Indisposed. Heard you the first time."

Soon turns out to be 2 days later. And Sam looks... like hell.

"The fuck happened to you?"

"Your stupid son did."

"Told you not to call him my son. He's more like a sperm that didn't get swallowed."

"Very eloquent."

"You're deflecting. What do you mean Walmart me did that to you?"

"What? You can't understand English now? Should I ask Katie what kind of new tests did she do?"

Soldier Boy likes the banter on a normal day but he's getting annoyed now. "You mean to tell me you went and got in a fight with Homelander and you aren't dead?"

"It was just.. a disagreement."

And that's when it hit Soldier Boy.

"You're a Supe." It wasn't a question but Sam's silence is all the answer he needed.

"Holy shit, you are."

"No. I'm not a Supe."

"Super speed? Strength?" Soldier Boy sees the wounds. "Healing."

"No. Not exactly."

And that was the end of the conversation. Sam refused to talk to him any further and he stopped the next time they saw each other because he can't take this silent treatment.

He's about to tear his hair out from curiosity, though. And he got some kind of answer on their nth schedule this month when Homelander decided he wants to sit in. Soldier Boy is not even trying to hide how he's ignoring the stupid fuck.

"How is he reacting to the new version of V?" Homelander decides to ask Sam.

"Nothing. Because I stopped it."

Homelander freezes and turns his deadly eyes on Sam. "What?"

"I said I stopped it. It wasn't giving productive results."

"And who said you could do that?"

"I did. When you people made me in charge of him."

"I specifically requested for that test. You answer to me!" Homelander is letting his anger explode now.

"I answer to no one. I'm the one doing the tests, I'll decide what to take."

Homelander is all up in Sam's face now. He's floating the the air to be even be eye level of Sam. Most fucks from the Seven would cower in even the slightest bit of anger from Homelander, but Sam barely flinches.

"I'm gonna-"

"Kill me? Do it. We both know I'm more valuable to Vought that you or any of the other Supes in the building right now."

"You will beg for death when I'm done with you."

"I'm not here to beg for anyone. I came here to tell you that I saw you."

"What?" Yeah what? Soldier Boy is lost.

"I saw you."

A realization dawned on Homelander's face but quickly put up his stoic mask again.

"Sometime this month, when a bus load of your fans show up, I'm going to be out there, on Vought's front lawn. And you're going to tuck your tail between your legs and run.

Homelander scoffs. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I don't think you're better than me, John." The lights of the lab began flickering. "I have the Devil's favor on my side. And you? You're just meat in spandex. And I'd love to see the whole world's reaction when I prove that to you."

-------------------------------------------

A bit inspired by one quote of the Umbrella Academy. But essentially, Sam's ability is that he's still the actual Devil's vessel and got most of "Lucifer's" powers plus visions. He's also a bit immortal since Luci keeps bringing him back when he dies.

Next premise I'm thinking if Butcher and co. finding out that SB is held there and went to break him out. Found him, but was intercepted by Homelander. Sam stays behind to hold him off because he says that he can't leave the building anyway- he's tethered. The whole facility has a giant Devil's trap under it and that's how Sam's being kept there.

SB refuses to leave him behind but was assured it'll be okay by Sam. The building is slowly getting destroyed by Homelander's attacks.

SB and co. get out and Hughie or someone sees something from beneath the cracked floor. He yells for SB to punch the floor and when he did, the trap is broken.

There was silence and then a huge eldritch thing emerges from inside the building and devours it whole. People are screaming, running, evacuating.

They see Homelander fly out and zooms away into the distant sky.

The whole structure collapses and they see something on top off the rubble. For a moment, they saw a monster with wings and horns and snakes and blood, and next thing they saw Sam. Normal, lab coat wearing Sam.

Sam collapses from it. They gather him up and escape.

[n3g5nx]

Negan x OC drabble

*Modern-time, non-apocalyptic AU

*Gender ambiguous OC, imagine them however you'd like :)

*Based on one of my posts about Negan, it ignited something in me��

*This is complete self-indulgence, so bare with me.

*Warnings: alchohol, suggestive themes, alludes to sex but doesn't go into it (NOT smut)

"Don't worry about him, babe." X sighed, looking up at their boyfriend with an innocent gaze, "He's just a family friend, alright?"

He shook his head, crossing his arms as he furrowed his brows in disdain, "Do you not see the way he looks at you? It's ridiculous."

"You're the one being ridiculous." X chuckled lightly, giving him a reassuring pat on the chest. "Negan isn't going to sweep me off my feet, okay?

X sat cross-legged on the living room couch, typing feverishly away on their phone. It was a small family get-together and their boyfriend was supposed to be here an hour ago. Apparently he was too hungover, which wouldn't be the first time. Tears pricked at their eyes as they tried to ignore the laughter coming from the adjacent kitchen.

"Everything alright over here, darlin'?" Negan questioned as he made his way into the living room, leaning on the couch and gazing down at X with concern, "Parties gettin' started and we haven't heard a peep outta you"

X sniffed, wiping the tears away from their eyes and nodding, "Yeah, just boyfriend troubles." They mumbled, not taking their eyes off their phone, "I think, ex-boyfriend troubles…" 

Negan frowned, putting a reassuring hand on their shoulder. "Hey, don't let some douchebag ruin your fun, alright?"

X felt their ears warm at the touch, the hair on the back of their neck standing up. "Yeah, you're right." They sighed, looking up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

He led X back to the kitchen, cracking open a beer and handing it over to them. X took it graciously and didn't waste any time, taking a long swig of the bitter drink. Their face visibly scrunched as they examined the bottle.

"What, you don't like it?" Negan chuckled as he took a drink from his half-empty bottle already in hand.

"Just not the brand we usually get, its fine." They took another sip, leaning on the nearby counter and watching as their cousins came pouring in through the front door.

It wasn't long until the sun began to dip over the horizon. The younger family members were in the living-room watching some animated movie while their parents played beer-pong in the dining room. X was among them, currently crushing the game against Negan.

"Boom, another drink for you, sir." They gave Negan a smug smirk as they landed another ball into one of the many red solo cups.

Their parents cheered them on while their uncle gave Negan a pat on the back. "You're getting your ass kicked by a kid right now."

"Hey, I'm old enough to drink." X snapped back, crossing their arms.

"Yeah, you heard the kid." Negan said before downing his 5th cup.

"Oh fuck you!" They giggled, watching his adams apple bob as he swallowed. 

X felt that warmth in their ears again, slowly spreading to their cheeks as they admired the man across from them. Shaking the thoughts out of their head, X picked up one of the cups and downed it. Negan, accepting defeat, went around the table and leaned in close to them.

"You got some serious skills there, kid. Remind me not to challenge you to a drinking game again." Negan chuckled, running a hand through his already slicked back hair.

"Picked 'em up in college." They leaned against the table, looking into his dark brown eyes. 

The music cranked up and X's parents teamed up against their aunt and uncle for the next round. The laughter and pulsating stereo started to wear on them in their inebriated state, a small frown forming on their lips. They grabbed another beer from the nearby cooler and wordlessly slipped out the backdoor with a received sigh.

The moon was out, casting a blue-grey light across the backyard and porch. It was a stark contrast to the warm, bustling environment inside that X found comforting. They sat on the small loveseat pressed against the house and allowed their eyes to drift shut momentarily.

"So that's where you went." Negan mused as he shut the door behind him, startling X awake with a jolt. 

"Shit, you scared the hell out of me" They laughed out as they sat up and pat the spot beside them.

Negan strode over and sat down beside them, leaning back and taking in the peaceful scenery. "Party getting too much for you?"

"Yeah, I still don't do so well with noise." They sighed, picking up their abandoned beer on the ground and taking a long drink.

"Shit, I do fine at parties and all but tour family is damn loud" He chuckled as he extended both arms over the back of the loveseat.

X felt their heart skip as his hand lay behind them, so dangerously close to their shoulder. They took another drink and nodded in reply. Negan took notice of their sudden loss of words, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Even in the dim lighting their blush was painfully noticeable. The sparkling moonlight painting both their faces painted an intimate moment neither of them had expected as the noise and laughter inside faded into the background.

It was just the two of them alone on the porch, this was something X was extremely aware of in the moment. They were both turned slightly towards each other as they sat in silence for a long while. X didn't expect to feel so nervous in his presence. Sure, they always thought he was attractive but… They suddenly felt a twinge of intimidation radiating off of him, something that made their chest tighten. 

"I think you have a little crush on me." Negan suddenly broke the silence in a low, sultry tone.

X was taken aback by the sudden shift in tone and how straightforward he was. They wanted to run away and hide in that moment, feeling like a deer in headlights. The fumbled and stuttered as they tried to come up with a retort but were silenced by Negan's arm falling around their shoulder. Everything happen in a sudden, drunken blur. Lips crashing against one another, hands running through hair and tongues fighting against each other. At some point, X found themselves in his lap with their legs on either side of him.

They couldn't hold back the moan that escaped their lips as Negan tugged on their hair with one hand and pulled them closer with the other. His hands moved down to their hips, carefully rolling them against  him.

X pulled back just enough to catch their breath and smile ear to ear, meeting Negan's intense gaze.  "Let's take this to my room." They giggled.

[muttsterion]

All I can think of is New Kid without a clue asking “Oooh I wonder who he is! Who do you think it is?”

[hidemaru-kyu-picture]

My New Kids from South Park Games

Hyde getting influenced by that tank anime for like 5 years later or so

Profile: http://hidemaru-kyu-picture.tumblr.com/post/169346823818/my-new-kids-on-south-park-profile

[royalsunshinehotel]

"how he wins you back" (dev patel, preference)

A/N: A lovely request from my dearest @lover-jpeg

Anwar Kharral (Skins UK, 2009)

Grand gesture with bird involved

He’s so so sweet and earnest

Like he makes it clear that he KNOWS he messed up, and he's going to do better

And that's the whole point of an apology right?

Neelamani “Neal” Sampat (The Newsroom, 2011-2014)

He takes a while

He’d need support too

Once he gets his thoughts together, he'd realize that the fight/ the "break" wasn't worth it

It's just a job

You're his life.

Deon Wilson (CHAPPIE, 2015)

He would be stunned, get you flowers

“What do people do”

The flowers and the chocolates do their job, and win you back.

He needs to start observing other couples more lmao

Sunit “Sonny” Kapoor (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, 2011, 2015)

You are his queen, he can't lose you!!

This results in a grand gesture (likely botched)

When he botches it, he gets honest, and tells you what's up, and where he's at emotionally.

Sheru “Saroo” Brierly (LION, 2016)

Tries his best to hold on to his argument, but caves in 24 hours

Saroo makes a grand gesture, but not flashy. Likely just picking you up after work, asking if he can "talk", which is good

It works because his Mom advised

Sanjay “Jay” Menha (The Wedding Guest, 2018)

The two of you can't really "break up" because you're not quite together

You're on the run together, that's all

After the argument, Jay saves your life and protects you

You matter regardless of your relationship to him

That’s pretty sexy tbh

David Copperfield (2019)

He puts in work! He won't let his tongue get the best of him again!!

You're so lucky, you get all the flowers in England, hand delivered!

David proves himself until you decide he doesn’t have to

Sir Gawain (the Green Knight, 2021)

Gawain would do something bold! Until his mom says no

So he speaks to your family and asks for advice

Leads to a good conversation with your parents, and later Gawain figures out where the miscommunication and hashes it out with you.

Joshua Madika (Modern Love, 2019)

He’d want to meet where you first met, everything is changing and he needs you more than ever.

You love him, he loves you, there's nothing else to discuss really.

The obelisk in central park, 7pm.

You show up and the rest works itself out

Arthur Dayal (OC)

Simply changes his behavior

Gives you a certificate, signed, that he will stop being a douchebag

He’s such an idiot 0/10 you love him tho

[livexdolan]

The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza​ @vintagedolan​​ @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan​ @dicedols @plantbasedgray

[kiara-carrera]

notebook ask for brooke holliday please!

i love my baby, but this got kinda long anyways

sweet pea: string bean. he'd be hotter if he wasn't such a bitch. like...sir get over yourself, we share custody of jughead, i don't think you're cool to begin with. very hot, but very mean...possibly a masochist because who tf gets a NECK TATTOO??? does he even have a real name or is sweet pea both his first and last name?

fangs: an absolute menace. does nothing but bother me in math class and constantly takes my erasers. concerned about his wellbeing because he says sweet pea is a great guy.

jughead: my worst enemy and also my best friend. yes, i have terrible taste in friends. makes way too much pretentious douchebag literature/pop culture comments. once recommended that we watch a tarantino movie and i threatened to drown him in the river. is madly in love with betty but refuses to tell me anything. bitch boy. is a weirdo because you never see him without his hat.

betty: you know the people you were friends with as kids but you grow apart? yeah, that's me and her except she won't fucking leave. can be helpful, but also kinda stuck up? i love her but she makes me want to strangle something.

archie: a true dumbass. not a single thought behind those eyes. convinced he box dyes his hair because it keeps getting orange as time goes on. absolutely no sense of self preservation.

veronica: she's mean and hot and she owns it, i respect that. if she ever breaks up with archie, probably would make a move because, again, she's hot. feel bad for her honestly, because her dad's a bitch and she moved to riverdale right when it became murder central. tragic.

toni: offended that jughead didn't introduce me to her the literal second he met her because um hi have you seen her? super nice, but knows how to take you down a peg. possibly caught her making heart eyes at cheryl, so possibly questionable taste in women.

cheryl: yelled at me in vixen practice yesterday like she didn't personally recruit me freshman year because i was quote unquote "the only hot bitch around here who actually knows how to do a back handspring." yelled at me once for wearing a red shirt. probably hides dead bodies in her basement like some kind of gothic horror movie.

reggie: will not let it go that he was my first kiss. has offered on multiple occasions to be my first time. 10/10 would fight him in a parking lot. is useful in maybe negative five scenarios, why do we keep inviting him places?

kevin: an absolute doll. did get mad at my lack of singing ability, but he was also the one who wanted me in the musical in the first place??? like dude what the fuck did you think was going to happen? has questionable taste in men.

send an oc for their descriptions of canon characters!

[crispychrissy]

Escape - Part 1

Summary: Sam knows what he needs, and he’s lucky enough to know exactly where to get it from. Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel, several OC’s Word Count: 1392 Warnings: Fluff, talk of SPN canon violence A/N: So, I didn’t really announce this because the idea attacked me out of the blue, but I’m planning on making a small drabble series about Sam’s adventures here if everyone likes the idea. I’m not going to spoil anything up here because I want you all to read it and make your own assumptions as you go. This was looked over by my two lovelies @saxxxology and @bamby0304. Please let me know if this kind of story is something you might like to see more of. :)

Sam’s sneaking out again.

It’s the fourth time this month, but he knows he needs it. Dean would judge him for it, Cas wouldn’t understand, and Y/N would probably want to know more details than he feels comfortable sharing. It’s easier for all of them to be out of the loop. It’s not like he’s going to be gone for an entire day. He can always pick up a few groceries on the way back to cover any suspicions they may have… nothing weird about going for a supply run.

Sam bought a motorcycle, thanks to one of his stolen identities, and every time he leaves, he wheels it out of the garage and down the road before starting it to make sure none of the bunker occupants hear his departure. Out of the all the memories he obtained while he was soulless, the knowledge of how to ride a motorcycle was probably the most useful. He definitely would love to forget being such a sex-crazed douchebag, though, that’s for sure.

About halfway down the long driveway to the bunker, Sam staddles the Yamaha and turns the key, making it rumble to life with a low purr. Pulling on a helmet, he throws his backpack over his shoulder and loops his arms through the straps before driving off down the road to the main street that runs through Lebanon.

The ride is usually pretty boring, the scenery in Lebanon isn’t really all that interesting, but Sam loves feeling the rumble of the motorcycle beneath him, grounding him, making his breathing even out and his mind settle. He understands now why people buy motorcycles. The feeling of the wind whooshing by and being unconfined by the metal of a car is freeing, and he wonders if Y/N would ever want to come riding with him.

His destination is only twenty minutes away, a straight drive down Route 36. Sometimes he plays a game with himself, counting trees or counting how many farmers are out riding tractors. Once, he counted how many religious billboards lined this stretch of road, smiling to himself and wondering what those zealots would do if they met a actual Angel. Or God, for that matter.

All too soon, Sam’s driving along the short worn brick road to his destination. The old sandy brown building covered in sun-faded posters sits back a bit from the brick road, and he remembers her smile when he made a Wizard of Oz joke, even though she’s probably heard them all before. Man was he lucky to find her, it’s not every day when you can find someone that’s familiar with the life, but isn’t in it. Someone who can understand the short amount of time you can spend with them, and someone who doesn’t mind being interrupted by a case that needs his attention.

Sam pulled into one of the parking spots to the right of the building and turned off his motorcycle, dismounting it and sliding his helmet onto the left handlebar. Running his fingers through his coppery locks, Sam swallows hard, trying to will the nerves away. It isn’t the first time he’s done this, but it’s the first time he’s really going to go all out. It’s the first time he’s going to share his full complicated history with her.

With a quick exhale full of nervous energy, Sam walks to the front of the building, pulling off his sunglasses and stripping off his heavy jacket as he steps inside. The cheerful blonde named Kelly behind the counter gives Sam a long look up and down before settling her eyes back on his own. She does this every time, much to Sam’s discomfort. The flirting is something he’s grown accustomed to, but he’s there for one reason and one reason only, and focuses on the woman he’s been dying to see for the last few days.

“Hey, Sammy,” Kelly chirps, making Sam grit his teeth at the high pitched frequency of the bubbly blonde’s voice.

“It’s Sam,” he grounds out, unamused.

“Come on, just admit it, Sam. One of these days you’re going to come by just to see me instead of her, right?” Kelly asks hopefully, her expression falling once Sam shakes his head.

“I’ve only got eyes for one girl here, Kel,” Sam smiles, watching her narrow her eyes at the use of her least favorite nickname.

“Kelly, leave the poor guy alone,” a male voice scolds from one of the side doorways, and Sam smiles as the man steps into the room and looks at the younger Winchester. “Hey Sam, she’s all ready for you, I’ll walk you up.”

“Thanks, Alan,” Sam nods, following the younger heavyset man as he leads Sam up the stairwell to the left of the desk Kelly sits at. She winks at him and waves as he walks away, and Sam only rolls his eyes.

They walk in silence for a few moments before Alan speaks up. “Man, I don’t know what you do that makes you so special, but she never drops everything to see anyone… except when it comes to you. One day you’ll have to tell me your secret.”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told anyone, would it Alan?” Sam laughs as they reach the top of the stairs. Alan holds his arm out, directing Sam into the familiar room, and he takes a seat on the pull-out sofa bed, usually preferring it over any of the other furniture in the room.

“She’ll be in in just a second,” Alan turns to walk away, but stops and points an accusatory finger at Sam. “And remember, you only pay for an hour, so you only stay an hour, okay? Last thing I need is a repeat of two weeks ago.”

Sam nods sheepishly and raises his hands in front of him. “Understood, sir!” He does a lazy salute and smiles as Alan laughs and turns, disappearing from the doorway.

This room has slowly become Sam’s favorite ever since he’s began coming here. It’s warm, welcoming, and doesn’t loudly scream what kind of services go on behind closed doors like most other places do. He shifts and slides off his backpack, setting it down along with his jacket next to him on the futon.

But then he’s nervous again. It’s like the second he steps over the threshold into this room, everything becomes real. He anxiously rubs his palm against his thigh, mentally reminding himself he needs to have Y/N work her stain-removing magic on this particular pair of jeans; he’s only now noticing the dozens of faded droplets of blood that are dotted along the material from the rough vampire hunt last week.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor makes his head pop up as he looks expectantly at the doorway. The woman he’s been waiting to see rounds the corner with a bright smile on her face. Today, she’s wearing a white blouse with a navy skirt, and has her raven black hair tied up in a loose bun at the back of her head, probably due to the sweltering Kansas summer temperature outside. She nods at Sam, who also returns the non-verbal greeting, as she walks over to her desk and grabs a few supplies.

“I’m so happy to see you again, Sam,” she coos, her voice as smooth as honey on a hot day. It immediately puts Sam’s mind at ease and his body loosens up as of the tension he holds deep in his muscles fades away.

“I’m happy that you were able to see me on such short notice,” Sam replies, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“It sounded like you needed it,” she nods as she turns around and walks over to the chair across from the futon. “Vampire hunt, right?”

“Yup.” Sam pops the p, watching as she sits down in front of him and crosses one leg over the other, resting a dark brown patient folder in her lap. “It was a pretty bad one. Things got dicey at the end and now Dean is mad at me. I don't really know what else to do, Dr. Davis.”

“Well then, let’s get to it,” Dr. Davis begins, pulling a pen out from behind her ear. “How does this type of problem typically make you feel?”

Forever: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @mereka18 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @quiessilva-meriff @wildefire @waywardbaby @serienjunkiegirl @alexwinchester23 @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @adoptdontshoppets @moonstar86 @missihart23

Sam: @ronja-uebrick @be7van @hunterswearingplaid

[pyro-yoshi]

Demonic Possession Style - a Walking Dead sick fic

You know how I’m all about OC sick fics? I still am, don’t you worry. Its been years since I’ve written a puke without plot for a fandom. Well, I broke that streak and wrote some fan fiction. I felt the internet needed some Walking Dead emeto, so I wrote this. Negan gets super sick and profusely pukes his guts out all over the place, several times, and his fellow Saviors take care of him. The amount of puke is fairly exaggerated, as Negan throws up A LOT. Likely more than is humanly possible. Why? Because I am into that.

This is pretty long. At a little over 5000 words, I do believe this is the longest sick fic I’ve written. I enjoyed writing it, hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it.

He’d felt a bit off all day, but it wasn’t until he disemboweled Spencer that Negan felt a sharp stabbing pain in his own gut. If that wasn’t ironic he didn’t know what was. Perhaps it was some sort of phantom sympathy pain, but then again the very idea of that was stupid.

Just like Spencer.

Negan would be the first to admit he was a cocky bastard, but he absolutely couldn’t stand people like Spencer, overly privileged shits who skated through life using their good looks and daddy’s credit card to get whatever they wanted. Having to talk one on one with Spencer was bad enough, but once he’d expressed his wish to kill Rick and takeover as the new leader of Alexandria, Negan had officially had enough of him and offed him right there in the street.

While tormenting Rick was one of Negan’s favorite hobbies, he also harbored a fair amount of respect for the ex deputy. Rick Grimes was a natural leader, he organized people, and most importantly, he was a go getter. He got shit done, and Negan liked that. Plus, he liked Rick’s kids a lot. Carl was a badass, and baby Judith was the cutest damn thing he’d EVER seen. Earlier in the day, he’d spent a good half hour cradling Judith, bouncing her on his knee and being silly with her while Carl kept his one remaining eye intently trained on him.

But Spencer, that asshole, wanted to murder Rick and leave Carl and Judith without a father, and Negan simply wasn’t going to tolerate that bullshit.

He felt a twinge of nausea as he watched Spencer drop to his knees, holding his own intestines in his hands. It wasn’t the blood and guts that was bothering him. Living in a post apocalyptic world, nobody batted an eye at bloodshed anymore. Killing people was just a part of life now.

No, this was something else. Before Spencer had approached him, Negan had made himself at home in Rick’s residence and cooked a massive amount of spaghetti for himself and his guests. Olivia hadn’t eaten a single bite, Carl had just picked at his and Rick didn’t even show up. Rude. Negan wasn’t the type to let food go to waste, especially not now, so he’d eaten almost the entire pot himself. He ate all of the rolls too, and washed it down with a couple glasses of lemonade. He’d probably just eaten too much.

More abrupt, intense pains almost made him wince, but he brushed them off. Instead, he stood over Spencer, who was rapidly bleeding out, and addressed the crowd of Alexandrians who had gathered around him.

“Look at that! He did have guts after all, they’re right there! I’ve never been so wrong in my life!”

The crowd stared, but nobody moved. They wouldn’t dare try anything, not with Arat ready to unload her pistol into anyone dumb enough to do something drastic.

“I just did your community a favor!” Negan ignored the horrified looks some people were casting him and continued. He motioned to Carl, who was glaring at him from his porch. “Kid, that douchebag just told me he wanted to kill your dad. Now I don’t know about you, but I think that’s really shitty.”

Turning back to the crowd, he carried on, ignoring the stomach pains and slight nausea he felt. “That’s right people. Spencer the dickless there wanted to take out your fearless leader! You should all be thanking me.”

A stronger wave of nausea took him by surprise, but he played it off and continued swaggering around Alexandria, Lucille in his hand as always. He supervised as his men wandered in and out of various homes and took whatever they felt like taking in addition to picking up this week’s offering.

Under normal circumstances, Negan would be bummed that he wasn’t going to see Rick on this visit, but as time wore on, he found himself caring less and less as he gradually began to feel worse. He could somehow still taste the spaghetti, and he felt overly full and excessively bloated, which left him in a great amount of discomfort. It got to the point where he almost sighed in relief when his men decided to load up and go back to the compound.

The drive from Alexandria to the Savior's compound was usually an hour there an hour back, a little more if they had to clear walkers from the road on the way.

Negan wasn’t sure if he’d make it through the whole drive home. He was in the passenger seat of the front most truck, and he’d long since given up trying to get comfortable. No amount of position shifting seemed to ease his rapidly growing queasiness, and rolling down the passenger window to get some fresh air hadn’t helped worth a damn. He sank down into his seat and sighed as he placed his right hand on his upset, overly bloated stomach. The truck driver gave him a questioning glance but didn’t pry.

To say he felt like dogshit was a massive understatement. Every bump in the road made him feel even worse, and by the time he arrived back at the compound, he felt well and truly sick. He felt bad enough that he let his guard down and dropped the sarcastic, confident personality he usually displayed in favor of being quiet. He thought back to various times he’d been sick with a stomach bug or food borne illness in the past, and those instances had all started with bloating and sharp abdominal pains.

He felt hot and feverish in addition to feeling sick, and as he stepped out of the truck, a dizzying wave of vertigo washed over him. He groaned softly and Lucille almost slid from his grip.

He was definitely sick, no doubt about it. All he wanted was to retreat to his room and curl into a ball of misery on the bathroom floor. He knew that’s what he’d end up doing, as he was really starting to feel like he was going to puke. He wasn’t the type to fight it, he’d much rather get it all out and feel better, at least temporarily.

Of course, Negan’s escape plan was thwarted. He had only made it several yards away from the trucks when Simon came out of nowhere and flung his arm around his shoulder.

“We’ve got a problem, and I know you’d want to hear this from me. We’ve got a snake in the nest.”

Negan looked at him, but it took him a moment to find his words. “What happened?”

“I caught said snake, Toby, trying to leave us with weeks worth of stolen food. He stole from all of us and thought he could get away with it! Unfortunately for him, I’m exceptionally good at discovering pests. We decided to heat up the furnace to teach him a lesson. Dwight’s getting the iron ready, but being the big man himself, you get to do the honors.” Simon explained.

Before Negan could protest, his right hand man lead him into the factory. Arat followed, and everyone else trailed behind them on her command. Truthfully, ironing Toby’s face was the last thing he wanted to do right now. With every step he took, he was hit with an intense nausea peak and came closer to losing it. At this point it wasn’t a matter of if he was going to throw up, it was when. He knew he had a 100 percent chance of seeing his lunch again, and probably soon at that because he felt like he could hurl at any second.

Simon lead him to the railing of the balcony overlooking the common room, and he felt acid creep up his throat as he looked down at the crowd of his lieutenants and workers below. They were all kneeling and bowing like usual, save for Dwight who was heating up the iron, and Toby who had been stripped to his underwear and bound to a chair. Normally Negan relished the sight of his loyal cohorts bowing to him and loved leading them in a charismatic manner, but today he just wasn’t up to it. He straight up felt too sick to give a traitor the iron.

Alas, he couldn’t not do it either. Toby had to be punished, but Negan wasn’t going to bother with taunting. He’d wordlessly give this guy the iron, then lock himself in his ensuite bathroom and spend the rest of the day puking his guts out.

He sluggishly descended the stairs, and he could feel everything in his stomach unpleasantly sloshing around with each step. He stopped in front of Toby, but another wave of vertigo hit him and he had to shut his eyes and brace himself with Lucille to avoid falling over.

Toby was panicking, as victims of the iron always did. He looked up at Negan, pleading.  “I-I’m so sorry sir! I’m stupid, I’m an idiot, I’m a fuck up, just please don’t do this! I’ll never break a rule again! I swear! Please!”

Simon grinned manically and leaned over the bound man. “Toby, Toby, Toby. It sure is a shame it had to come to this, because before your fuck up today, you did a good job here. I liked you. But, you must be a lot dumber than you look if you thought you could get away with that. The thing is, we don’t take too kindly to thieves around here.” he spoke in an upbeat manner, but the aura of threat was there clear as day.

Dwight removed the glowing, red hot iron from the furnace with a long metal pole and extended it to Negan. Toby, who was near tears from the anticipation of that nearly molten metal being pressed to his face, was practically howling with fear.

Negan didn’t take the iron. He was overwhelmed with nausea, and he could taste the acid that was threatening to shoot up his throat. Lucille was limp in his grip, his mouth flooded with saliva and he moaned as he a felt a hot, burning sensation rapidly start spreading through his gut. That could only mean one thing. He was going to puke, right here, right now, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

His followers had suspected something was off upon noticing how quiet he had become, but by now nearly everyone had realized that something was amiss. Arat cocked her head and gave him a questioning look, and many others followed suit.

Simon turned away from Toby and rose a brow at Negan. “What’s going on with you? Is there something I should know about?”

“I..I...oh fu-” Negan was cut off mid sentence by a retch. He felt his stomach contract and before he could even move, a torrent of vomit gushed from his mouth, missing Simon by an inch and hitting Toby square in the chest.

“Holy fuck! What the hell Negan?!” Simon leapt back to avoid getting nailed. Several other people flinched back as well, and even Arat looked shocked.

Toby audibly cried out in revulsion as the chunky brown substance slid down his torso. “Oh god! He just puked on me!”

Negan clamped a hand over his mouth and turned away from the man, but it was no use. Puke spurted from between his fingers and dripped down onto his nice leather jacket before he gagged again and completely lost control. Lucille clattered to the ground as he puked all over the floor, splashing the feet of one of his guards as he did so.

Dizziness swept over him and caused him to lose his balance. He dropped to his knees and moaned as he clutched his stomach with both hands. A second later he erupted with more chunks, making the pool in front of him bigger. Another copious wave comprised of spaghetti, rolls, lemonade and everything else he’d eaten came up, and before he could even recover from that he vomited again.

Everyone was staring at him in shocked silence, and no one wanted to go near him for fear of getting puked on.

Negan’s eyes were starting to water from the force of his retching, which he found humiliating. He wasn’t embarrassed about throwing up in front of everyone, because he couldn’t help it. However, the idea of involuntarily crying in front of them was very off putting. He was given a second to catch his breath before his stomach lurched and he continued to puke profusely on the concrete floor. Just when he thought he had nothing left inside him to bring up, he’d be proven wrong seconds later.

A flash of light suddenly brightened the room, and he realized that someone had just taken a picture of him. He didn’t have time to be angry about it though, as an agonizing jab of pain tore through his abdomen. He retched noisily as a small amount of putrid tasting liquid flowed from his mouth, and it was immediately followed by a mouthful of something that tasted even worse.

This was pure agony, Negan wouldn’t wish it upon his worst enemy. Sure, he’d eaten a lot, but this was ridiculous. Was he actually going to puke himself to death as everyone looked on in horror? Were his actual guts going to come up next? He briefly wondered which of his organs he’d see first.

Fortunately he never got the answer to that question. When nothing else came up after thirty seconds, he figured he was finally done. There was a lingering string dripping from his mouth, so he spat it into the lake of puke in front of him.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed. It was all he could think to say.

When he looked up, the first thing he saw was Eugene looking at him. The portly scientist was holding a camera and gazing at him with his usual stony faced expression.

“I apologize for the photography,” he began. “However, I must admit that I am thoroughly, utterly, downright impressed by what you just did. Never in my entire life have I witnessed someone throw up like that. Hell, I didn’t even know it was humanly possible for so much vomit to come out of one person. Thus, I felt it was necessary to document it in the name of science.”

Negan truthfully didn’t know what to say to that. For once, he was at a loss for words. Then again, he did see Eugene’s logic. If he didn’t feel absolutely godawful, he’d be impressed with himself too. He scanned over the damage he did and realized Eugene was right. He had produced an insane amount of puke. Not only did he basically destroy the floor and Toby, it was all over himself too. It was on his jacket, his right hand, his pants and his boots.

As he knelt there, the situation was quickly becoming awkward because everyone was still silently staring at him. He felt someone grip his arm and help him up, and he wasn’t surprised that it was Simon. Of course it was. Negan could always count on him.

Arat stepped up next. “What the fuck are you all staring at? Back to work!” she commanded firmly. At her order, people began to disperse.

She stalked over to Toby, untied him, then pushed him down and threw a mop at him. “Clean this shit up.” she motioned to the huge mess Negan made. “If I’m not satisfied, you’re losing all your points.”

Despite feeling outright terrible, Negan smiled at that. He could always count on Arat and Simon to take charge and get stuff done. Not only that, but people listened to them.

Negan was rather unsteady on his feet, but he insisted that he didn’t need any assistance. He wasn’t an elderly woman who needed help crossing the street, he was a grown ass man. He could take care of himself. Still, Simon followed him anyway to make sure he didn’t pass out, which Negan was secretly grateful for. He’d never admit it though.

Once they arrived at the door to Negan’s bedroom, Simon addressed him.

“So, I’ve got to ask,” he began. “Should I head down to Alexandria and pick up that priest? The one with the creepy smile? Father Gabriel, right? I think an exorcism might be in order, because that was seriously some demonic possession style level shit back there!”

“Simon, I feel like shit that took a shit, ate said shit, and puked that shit right back up. That’s what I feel like right now.” Negan ranted. “But if I suddenly start speaking ancient Latin or bringing Rick supplies instead of taking them, then by all means, summon the preacher.”

His mind flashed to Rick, and he wondered what the man would think of him now, pitifully sick and covered in his own vomit. Rick would probably get off on it, or at least laugh hysterically. Maybe he’d even swipe Lucille and use her to put Negan out of his misery.

He sent Simon to find him some anti nausea medicine, or at least some Pepto Bismol, then slunk into his room. A hot shower was in order. When he wasn’t feeling well a long hot shower usually made him feel better, even if the relief was only temporary. He rinsed his mouth out to get rid of the acrid puke taste, then strode over to the shower and cranked on the hot water.

A scalding hot shower followed by a nap sounded like heaven. Hopefully he’d feel a little better afterwards, or at least well enough to drink some water. He didn’t want to get dehydrated. He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and was taken aback at how pale he was. He almost looked dead. Maybe he should have Simon fetch Father Gabriel after all.

He chuckled weakly at the thought of himself tied to a bed as Gabriel stood over him, thrusting a crucifix in his face and shouting “DEMON! Exit this man’s body! The power of Christ compels you! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!” It would be pretty badass.

The water coming from the shower was so hot that steam was rising from the shower head, but that’s exactly what Negan wanted at the moment. He stripped off his soiled clothes and stepped in. Once the water hit him, he relaxed and felt a tiny bit better. He’d be fine in no time.

The shower had helped for all of twenty minutes. The relief he’d felt gradually faded away once he’d shut the water off, stepped out and changed into clean clothes. The nausea slowly came crawling back, wrecking havoc on his insides once more. It wasn’t long before he felt genuinely nauseous again.

At the moment, Negan was sitting on one of the small couches in his room with his head in his hands and a plastic bucket between his feet. As sick as he felt, he was stuck in that awful limbo where he wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up or not. He considered using the old finger down the throat trick but wasn’t sure if it would help much. Chances are he was going to feel absolutely terrible until whatever was causing this was filtered out of his system.

There was a knock at the door, and before Negan gave permission, it swung open to reveal Simon and Eugene.

“Hey buddy! How are you feeling?” Simon beamed at him.

Negan only groaned in response. A pink object was thrust in front of him. It was a bottle of Pepto Bismol.

“Here you go. Pepto Bismol, just as requested. I even got you a wine glass so you can drink it in style.” Simon added.

Eugene, who was holding a container in his hands, stepped towards Negan.

“It is my understanding that you likely cannot retain food and will not be able to for roughly twelve to twenty four hours. However it is imperative that you stay nourished, so I have taken it upon myself you offer you some leftovers. Sardine macaroni, made by yours truly.”

The scientist removed the lid and held the steaming bowl out to Negan.

The yellowish grey macaroni was loaded up with shriveled, oily sardines and the occasional fish eye or fin sliver here and there. Negan stared at it with repugnance for a second before the overwhelming fish smell coming from it flipped the switch on his nausea and triggered another vomiting episode.

Negan gagged and bent forward as he threw up all over the floor between his feet, somehow missing the bucket completely. Acting quickly, he picked it up and held it in his lap, getting it in place right in time to send another wave of puke splashing into it. He just barely got it all inside.

“Damn. How do you have anything left inside you?” Simon commented as he looked on with amusement. The expression on his face implied he was enjoying the show, perhaps in a very inappropriate way.

Eugene gave him a strange look as he realized that the lieutenant seemed overly interested in watching the lead savior puke his guts out. He couldn’t decipher why someone would get exited about that, but then again he had many odd quirks of his own.

Negan was too busy throwing up to notice that, so he responded by raising his middle finger at Simon. It was all he could do at the moment. His whole body lurched as an agonizing retch tore through him and more brown liquid poured from his mouth. By this point it was all liquid, except for a few solids that had been lurking in the very bottom of his stomach. It tasted truly awful and burned his throat as it came up. He heaved twice more before he was done. He had filled the bucket about a third of the way, and set it on the floor when he was sure no more was coming.

He flopped back and let himself sink into the couch. There was no word in existence intense enough to accurately describe how bad he felt. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he somehow felt even worse than he had before. The nausea wasn’t subsiding, his throat felt like it was on fire, his head was pounding, his eyes were watering and he still felt dizzy as well. He shut his eyes and remained silent for a minute before finally speaking.

“Eugene,” he began, gesturing at the offending bowl of sardine macaroni, “Get that shit away from me, or else I will projectile vomit all over you and you’ll be washing my lunch out of that fine mullet of yours.”

Eugene, not wanting to risk damage to his hair, promptly closed the lid on the bowl. “Fair enough. Sardines are a very particular brand of acquired taste. But if you ever change your mind, the offer is still on the table.”

“I think my face says it all when I say I’m a bit confused. Tell me, what would possess a sane man to think that sardines belong in mac and cheese? Why would you do that?” Simon asked him in a bewildered fashion.

“Because I like sardines.” Eugene explained. “Wether you find them palatable morsels of mercury infused goodness or downright appalling is irrelevant. Because at the end of the day, I did not make this for you.”

“Hey! One of you two assholes want to get me some water? Or are you just going to let me die?” Negan piped up from his position on the couch.

As if by magic, the door opened up again, this time signaling Arat’s arrival. She was holding a couple bottles of spring water. She looked from Negan to the partway full bucket to the puke on the floor and cringed a bit.

“You look like shit,” she said bluntly. “You’re not going to die on us, are you?”

“I might, Arat. I might. I am completely fucking out of commission. You’re in charge until I get better. These two,” he gestured to Eugene and Simon, “are going to take care of me.” Negan explained. He was laying on his back now, with half closed eyes.

Arat blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Negan nodded. “Go ahead. Pick up Lucille. Just remember to treat her like she’s your best friend in the whole world, and everything will be great. She’s a fickle mistress. She won’t tell you if she gets thirsty, so that’s up to you to figure out.”

The woman walked over to where Lucille was propped up against the wall. She picked the bat up, gave it a few test swings and smiled.

“Nice. I can see why you love her so much. Don’t worry, I’ll treat her like the magnificent lady she is.” Arat complimented. Though what she didn’t say was that she planned on referring to ‘her’ as ‘him’ or ‘Adrian’ as long as the bat was in her hands. She swung Adrian over her shoulder and gave Negan a bottle of water. “Here. Get better, and don’t die. This place needs you.”

With that, she turned and sauntered from the room.

The cool water felt amazing running down Negan’s irritated throat. He could feel the cold travel down his throat and spread through his stomach. Unfortunately, the euphoria was quickly replaced by nausea as his body swiftly began to reject the liquid.

“Oh god fucking damnit.” He bolted upright, swiped the bucket from the floor, and promptly threw up all the water he just drank.

Eugene awkwardly stared at Simon, who was starting to fidget as he watched Negan puke up all the water. It dawned on him that the other man was not repulsed, but aroused, which puzzled him greatly. He chose not to comment on it for the time being, but decided to amuse himself with a little experiment. He took the bucket away from Negan, who collapsed back onto the couch.

“Caring for others is not exactly my forte. I’ve always stayed in my own lane, and looked out only for me, myself and I. You could say that I’m selfish and be correct in that assumption. However, you have provided me with safety, shelter and all the ingredients I need to make my infamous sardine macaroni. Thus, after I dispose of the rather revolting contents of this pail I am going to scrounge around for some books. Medical books, to be precise. After reading up on the subject, I will do my best to lead you to a speedy recovery.”

Negan felt far too bad to even consider protesting as the scientist left the room, leaving him alone with Simon, who was doing his best to hide the very obvious hard on he had. He’d never hear the end of it if anyone found out that he got off on watching Negan vomit. He deliberately thought about unpleasant things, such as Fat Joey doing jumping jacks naked, to ward off the arousal. It worked.

Like Eugene, Simon wasn’t exactly the world’s best care taker. But, Negan was both his boss and his best friend, so he was going to try even though caring for people, or even just being nice, wasn’t in his nature. He practically had to drag Negan off the couch and onto the bed, as the other man wasn’t putting in any effort what so ever.

“You are way heavier than you look.” he panted as he dropped Negan onto the bed.

Even though he felt worse than he’d ever felt in his life, Negan managed a small snicker. “I wanted to see if you’d actually pick me up and carry me.”

For the next half hour or so, he remained sprawled out over the bed as Simon stayed with him and made sure he was alright. He laid motionless, completely unmoving until the urge to puke wormed its way back yet again. He didn’t even curse this time.

Actually getting up and walking into the bathroom was going to be the difficult part. He had no energy at all, as even moving his head was a strenuous task. By the time he managed to partially sit up, it was already too late. He clasped his hand over his mouth, but it did nothing to stop the acid that was starting to rise. He retched and yellowish bile cascaded over his fingers and onto the white T shirt he was wearing. Having accepted defeat, he rolled onto his side and puked all over his bedsheets. He didn’t even try to get off the bed. Well past the point of caring, he simply laid there as waves of bile gushed from his mouth. In the midst of heaving he heard a sharp gasp come from beside the bed, then what sounded like no followed by a string of obscenities.

Negan dry heaved a couple times, then moaned and curled up into a ball. He didn’t even care that he was covered in his own vomit for the second time today. Nor did he care who saw him or who knew. He, the big bad wolf, had essentially been reduced to a defenseless pup and he felt too shitty to give even a fraction of a crap about it. Hell, Rick could be standing over him, Lucille in hand, about to give him a taste of his own medicine and he wouldn’t care. That’s how awful he felt. The nausea was finally beginning to recede a little, but he was in a lot of pain due to the sheer amount he had thrown up over the past couple hours. He thought he may have broken some sort of world record. He felt like he had at least a dozen acid tipped knives stuck in various places around his guts and throat. Even breathing hurt.

“Am I dead yet?” he groaned hoarsely. His voice was somewhat muffled as his face was buried in one of the pillows.

“No.” Simon looked flustered but also concerned for Negan’s well being. He awkwardly shifted position.

“How about now?”

“No.”

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just cum in your pants?”

“.......n....yes.....”

“I knew it.”

Simon wasn’t a prudish or easily frazzled person, but he suddenly found himself unable to look at Negan and wished that a walker would sneak up on him and rip his throat out.

“I don’t blame you,” Negan said deliriously. He was so exhausted and worn out that he was falling asleep despite the intense pain. “Because....”

He trailed off for a second, on the verge of sleep.

“....every fucking thing I do is hot.”

[teamfreewill-imagine]

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Thirty Five

Summary: Trying to keep your past a secret leads to friction within your relationship Words: 3.6k Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Danneel, Clif, JJ, Tom, Shep, Arrow, Zep, Dallas (OC) Warnings: angst, emotional confrontations Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

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You were back on set on Tuesday, getting straight back to work after your weekend off.

Gen had graciously not pressed the issue of telling Jared what you’d disclosed to her the day before, so you managed to push the memory of your first pregnancy to the back of your mind - where it had been for the most part of the last four years.

Dallas was grouchier than usual, no doubt due to flying the day before, so filming was a little more difficult than you were used to.

Luckily, you didn’t personally have much to film that day; Trinity’s part in the current episode was minimal, just the odd appearance to update Castiel or the Winchesters on what she’d found out about her past.

You worked as quickly and efficiently as you could; all pranks that you usually played on each other shoved right to the back of your minds in order to get your scenes done in time to avoid any Dallas tantrums.

By the time you broke for lunch, you were exhausted.

Jared was grabbing you food while you sat down, bouncing Dallas to try and get her to calm down a little bit.

She wasn’t hungry and she’d recently been changed, she was just grumpy.

Jensen cleared his throat as he sat next to you, putting his plate down and taking a sip of his coffee.

“What’s up?” you asked, resorting to the shark plushie in a last-ditch attempt to calm your daughter.

“Have you checked your social media?” he asked, and you frowned.

“Not really,” you admitted. “I posted something but I haven’t really had time to look at notifications and stuff.”

“Good,” he nodded, looking straight ahead as he took another sip from his cup. “Don’t.”

You shifted your hold on Dallas and her toy, reaching into your pocket for your phone.

Jensen moved swiftly, grabbing your phone from your hand and shoving it into his pocket before you could take it back.

“Jen,” you argued, “Give me my phone.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” he murmured, picking up his fork. “It’s confiscated.”

You narrowed your eyes, snatching his fork out of his hand.

“It’s confiscated,” you echoed, causing him to sigh.

“Y/N… I’m trying to help you,” he explained, taking his fork back and shifting his chair away so you couldn’t reach to steal it back without disrupting Dallas. “You need to leave it a couple days.”

Jared put your plate down in front of you, sitting opposite you and leaning across to tickle Dallas lightly.

“You’re not gonna give me my phone back for a couple days?” you questioned, and Jensen shook his head.

“You can have it back when we go home,” he reasoned, “But you’re not allowed to check social media.”

“Good plan,” Jared agreed, uncapping his soda and taking a drink.

You glared across the table at him.

“So, you’re both allowed to see the crap people are writing about me, but I’m not?” you asked, irritated.

“Who said people are writing crap?” Jared tried to argue, and you rolled your eyes.

“Your expressions,” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen dismissed around a bite of pasta. “It’s not good for you to read it. We don’t read our hate, you shouldn’t read yours.”

“So there is hate,” you confirmed, pushing your plate away from you.

You looked down at your daughter, your jaw clenching tensely.

“Eat, Y/N,” Jensen told you, bringing your plate back towards you.

“I’m not hungry,” you murmured as he took Dallas from you, taking her shark along with her.

“It wasn’t a request.”

“You’re ordering me to eat, now?” you asked in disbelief.

“Hey,” Jared interrupted, nodding to your plate. “You need to eat so you can make enough milk to feed Dal. Gotta get your nutrients.”

You pulled a face, finally picking up your fork.

“Don’t talk about my boob milk at the dinner table,” you complained, shoving your pasta around your plate.

“Eat, Y/N,” Jensen told you again, expertly holding Dallas while shovelling his own lunch, your phone still tucked deep into his pocket. “We can discuss this at home.”

You were wrapped for the day a good few hours before either Jared or Jensen, meaning that you got the chance to go home earlier after quickly changing Dallas in your trailer.

It was for the best, really, seeing as she really wasn’t enjoying being on set too much that day.

You were so keen to get her home that you didn’t even think to get your phone back from Jensen until you reached to get it out of your pocket to let Gen know you were on your way home.

“Crap,” you sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

Clif caught your eye through the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

“You alright back there?” he asked, and you laughed slightly.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just remembered that Jay stole my phone at lunch and never gave it back.”

Clif laughed softly, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Dads, huh?” he scoffed, making you laugh.

“Yeah,” you agreed, stroking Dallas’ cheek as she was sat in her car seat, calm for the first time all day. “Your grandpa’s still a douchebag, baby girl.”

Clif stole fond glances back at you and your daughter as he drove you home, making sure the two of you were comfortable in the back.

It was a reasonably short drive so you were pulling up to your house in no time, Clif getting out, as usual, to help you down from the back.

“I’m not so fragile anymore,” you protested fondly, accepting his help.

“It’s on your girl’s orders, I’m afraid,” he told you, walking down to the other side of the car to help you with Dallas’ car seat. “Take it up with the boss.”

You laughed, taking your daughter from him.

You didn’t even protest the mention of Gen being the boss, you knew how intimidating she would’ve been when telling him to help you.

“Well, thank you for your services, kind sir,” you smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Now get back to work and make sure those boys behave.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, patting your shoulder before getting back behind the wheel.

You dug your keys out of your pocket, sending Clif a quick wave over your shoulder before finally making your way inside.

You were down to the last few days with Danneel, Gen, and the kids in Vancouver, so as soon as you got home, Gen took Dallas from you for some snuggle time.

“You get this every day, I’m taking it while I can,” she reasoned, and you grinned as you handed her over.

“Take her, she’s been moody all day,” you told her, and Gen gasped in mock offence.

“That can’t be right, can it?” she asked Dallas, kissing the top of her head. “My bambina is never moody. Never ever.”

“Try telling that to the sound crew,” you murmured, leaning in for a soft kiss before pulling back and stretching. “I’m gonna grab a shower if you’re willing to keep grumpy butt entertained.”

“Of course,” Gen agreed, grabbing your hand and squeezing slightly as you walked past. “How are you holding up, Y/N?”

“Alright, tired,” you answered, knowing that she was talking about your past but not wanting to talk about it. “I really need that shower, though.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she murmured, letting you go. “Love you.”

You smiled, waving to your daughter as you made your way towards the stairs.

“You too,” you agreed, turning and practically jogging up the stairs.

Danneel was with the rest of the kids in Tom and Shep’s room, so you popped your head around the door on your way past to let them know you were home.

JJ ran over to you, hugging you tight.

“Come play?” she requested, and you ruffled her hair fondly.

“I’ve gotta go shower, baby girl,” you explained, and she pouted.

“Can I come?”

Danneel laughed from her position on the floor, Arrow and Zep crawling between her and the boys.

“Dits doesn’t want you in the shower with her, darlin’,” she told her daughter.

“Sorry, sweets,” you agreed with Danneel, picking up JJ onto your hip so that you could kiss her cheek. “You can come sit with me while I dry my hair after.”

“Dally?” she questioned, confused.

“Aunt Mama has Dally downstairs, so we can use the blow dryer,” you explained.

She nodded excitedly as you put her down.

“And I can help?”

“‘Course,” you smiled, earning a huge grin back.

“Alright, let her go,” Danneel laughed, nodding JJ over. “Go freshen up, sweetie.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, catching Tom and Shep’s eyes as you left. “Be good for Auntie Dee.”

“Yeah,” they both agreed, barely looking up from the twins.

After JJ drying your hair and the two of you taking Bailey for a walk, you finally had a chance to sit down with your laptop.

Jensen still had your phone, but that wasn’t your only access to the internet and you were determined to find out what they were so insistent on you not seeing.

You were in your room, Dallas sleeping beside you after undoubtedly wearing herself out with all of her grumbling, once you finally logged onto twitter. Bailey and the other kids were downstairs with Genevieve and Danneel as they awaited their husbands’ return.

You bypassed your twitter home page, heading straight for your notifications and mentions.

“Here goes, baby girl,” you murmured to Dallas, despite the fact that she was asleep and wouldn’t understand you anyway.

As soon as the page loaded, you knew why Jared and Jensen had tried to keep you away from it.

Can you believe @dittoackles would talk so crudely in front of her DAUGHTER? Talking about her sex life in both panels. Gross. #TorCon

So @dittoackles is way more into @realGpad than she is @jarpad. Anyone else think she used him for the baby and now he’s just their beard?

Lemme get this right… @dittoackles gets herself a dog, then she leaves it at home for @realGpad to look after along with Tom and Shep (1/2) (2/2)so that she can go to Toronto to spend the weekend fucking Gen’s husband and talking about it on stage? And people still support her???

Nobody else gonna mention the fact that Jared is clearly more into Y/N than she is him? @jarpad, @dittoackles is using you. Go back to Gen.

Feeling sorry for the Ackles’ right now, having their name shat all over by @dittoackles at #TorCon. Bet Jensen’s regretting that adoption.

So… @dittoackles brings her daughter to the convention, leaves her with @bigEswallz only to bring her out on stage anyway? #BadParenting

It’s crazy, this time last year @dittoackles was a nobody… now she’s a nobody with a rich baby daddy and a claim-to-fame daughter. #TorCon

‘Not as good as Genevieve’... so… @dittoackles is using Jared as a beard to hide her sexuality? She’s not infiltrating their marriage to (1/2) get with Jared but to be with Gen. Open your eyes, @jarpad @realGpad! You guys are soulmates. Y/N is a gold digger. She’s using you.

You sniffed, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand as you signed out of twitter, looking up as you heard the door creak open.

Jared frowned when he saw you, closing the door gently behind him.

“Gen said you were napping,” he murmured, unbuttoning his outer shirt as he made his way over to the bed.

“I told her I was,” you admitted, sniffing as you closed your computer and placed it back on your nightstand.

His eyes focused on your movement, understanding why you were upset.

“You went online,” he stated, and you nodded.

“I… I had to see. I needed to know,” you murmured, using your sleeves to wipe away your tears. “They’re so mean.”

Jared smiled sympathetically, tucking your stray hairs behind your ears.

“Why did you think we didn’t want to you to look?”

You shrugged, unable to defend yourself.

He sighed, standing up to remove his shirt, leaving him in his jeans and undershirt as he sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him.

You rested your temple on his shoulder, curling your legs up into you as you leant against him.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” you asked quietly as he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think you’re an incredible woman,” he answered, his voice soft. “You’re a great mom and an amazing partner.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it.

“I’m serious,” he assured you, shrugging his shoulder slightly so that you would move your head to look at him. “Y/N, those people don’t know you.”

“But that’s what they think of me,” you told him as the door opened and he cupped your cheek in a strong palm.

“I really think you should see Sarah,” he whispered, his eyes flitting between yours until you nodded, your slow blink causing tears to fall.

He wiped them away with his thumbs, pulling you into a kiss as Gen shut the door behind her.

You smiled sadly across at her as you met her eye, earning the same expression back.

“You decided to tell him?” she guessed, and your eyes widened.

You took a breath as you shook your head, knowing that Jared was frowning at you.

“Tell me what?” he questioned, and Gen shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him, walking over to you and pulling you up into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“Just read some tweets,” you murmured, drawing a soft sigh from her lips as she pulled back.

“They’re all bullshit,” she whispered, and you swallowed.

“I told her that,” Jared agreed, making Genevieve nod. “We’re gonna set her up with my therapist.”

“That’s a good idea,” she agreed, looking at you. “You’ve got a lot of stuff you need to talk about, I think.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, wiping your eyes again as Dallas began to stir.

Gen placed a kiss to your lips, and you lingered slightly before you turned to pick up your daughter, walking through to her nursery so you could change her.

Jared stood up, walking over to Gen and pulling her into a hug.

“What’s going on with her?” he whispered.

She pulled back, keeping her arms wrapped around his waist as she looked up at him.

“A lot,” she admitted, biting her lip. “I can’t… it’s not my place.”

He frowned, pulling away from the embrace.

“But she told you,” he reasoned, and Gen shook her head.

“Not by choice,” she explained, taking his hands in hers. “I broke her trust, and I’m trying to win it back. I can’t do that if I go behind her back and tell you something she’s not ready to share.”

Jared shook his head, pulling his hands free and turning towards the door.

“I can’t do that to her,” Gen told him quietly, causing him to stop in his place.

“Y’know, I-”

He cut himself off, reaching for the door.

“Jared-” Gen tried, and he turned back to face her with his hand on the door handle. “What are you thinking?”

He took a breath, looking at the floor as he shook his head.

“I’m thinking,” he murmured, meeting his wife’s eyes again as he opened the door, “That maybe some of those tweets weren’t as far off as I thought.”

Genevieve was stunned, stuck still with shock as Jared left the room, unable to believe what she’d just heard.

Jared was already halfway down the hallway before she was able to get her body to move again.

“What?” she asked in disbelief, following him out.

He kept walking towards the staircase, but she wasn’t ready to let this go without a conversation.

“Jared Tristan, you look at me right now,” she demanded, and he turned to face her, his jaw set firm. “What the hell did that mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he snarked, the commotion causing you to come out into the hallway with a freshly changed Dallas in your arms, “Maybe it means I’ve noticed the fact that y’all have got closer. Maybe I’ve picked up on the fact that y’all prefer to sleep with each other than with me. Maybe - well, shit, maybe I just realised that the two of y’all are keeping secrets from me.”

You swallowed, not knowing what to say as the tone of her father made your daughter start to cry.

“Jared, that’s not-”

“That’s exactly what this is!” he shouted, Jensen and Danneel appearing on the staircase to check on the situation. “This whole relationship was built on our mutual trust and respect. The whole ‘no lies’ thing was set up from day one. But now the two of you are shutting me out, and I can’t help but think-”

“That what?” Gen asked, her anger rising as you felt yourself begin to panic. “That all of a sudden we don’t want you?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” Jared practically yelled back. “Y/N will barely look at me and you’re keeping secrets from me. If y’all want out, just fucking say so and stop playing with me.”

Gen took a step back, hot tears of anger welling in her eyes.

“Jared-” she breathed, and he shook his head.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he admitted, anger giving way to sadness. “I hate it.”

Gen swallowed, glancing towards you but not meeting your eye before looking at Jared.

“It’s not my place,” she whispered, causing Jared to sigh and turn around, splitting Jensen and Danneel as he made for the stairs.

Your heart was pounding, the sound of your bloodstream filling your ears as you felt yourself speak without thinking, knowing that the only way you could stop their heartbreak was to share your own.

“I lost a baby,” you blurted, regretting it instantly when all eyes snapped to you.

Jared turned around, looking towards you as you focused your eyes on the floor, bouncing Dallas slightly as she continued to cry in your arms.

“What?” Jared asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he took a step forward.

You sniffed, realising that you were crying now as you continued to look down, unwilling to meet anyone’s eye.

“I lost a baby when I was sixteen,” you admitted, letting Gen take Dallas back into her nursery without raising your eyes from the ground, using the new freedom of your arms to fold them protectively in front of yourself. “Gen- Genevieve found the scan.”

You could see in your peripherals that Jared took another step towards you and you finally looked up at him, your jaw clenching as you deliberately avoided looking at your parents.

“You told me that all those tweets were crap,” you reminded him. “You told me not to let it get to me, then you go and accuse us of- of- of whatever.”

“Y/N,” he whispered, and you shook your head.

“No,” you breathed, fighting back tears. “I lost my baby. I wasn’t ready to tell Gen, and I’m sure as hell not ready to tell you. I would’ve come to you when I was ready, y’know? Probably even soon. But the fact that you even considered that we might lie to you about our relationship… after everything-”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“I love you, Jared,” you told him, wiping your eyes as you schooled your expression, “I just can’t do this right now.”

He stepped aside as you walked past, making your way downstairs without meeting anyone’s concerned expressions.

The kids were all in the front room, Tom looking up in concern as you reached the doorway.

“What’s happening?” he asked, and you offered what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“We’re all okay, buddy,” you told him. “Can… can you and Sheppy look after Arry and Zep while I talk to JJ?”

They nodded, and JJ got up and walked over to you instantly.

“Uncle Jay and Auntie Dee will be down in a minute,” you promised, taking JJ’s hand and leading her through to the kitchen.

“Uncle Jared was shoutin’,” she whispered once you were alone, and you nodded, lifting her up and sitting her on the countertop. “An’ you’ve been cryin’.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, letting her little hands try to wipe your tears.

“Are you ‘kay?” she asked, and you sniffed as you nodded.

“I will be,” you told her, smiling weakly. You’d promised to never lie to her and you weren’t about to break that. “Just needed a moment with my best girl.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around you.

“Do you not love him anymore?” she whispered, her little voice pained.

“I love him very much,” you promised, holding her a little tighter. “There’s just some things we need to talk about; some things we need to clear up.”

“Mkay,” she agreed, pulling back enough to squeeze your cheeks between two small palms and kiss you quickly.

“Love you,” you told her, and she grinned.

“Love you more.”

You laughed softly, picking her up off of the counter and onto your hip.

“Love you most,” you finished, kissing her nose as you kicked a foot stool into place.

You set her down so that she could reach the countertop, smoothing her hair down as you did so.

“Now,” you breathed, leaning over the sink to wash your hands, “Wanna help me cook?”

tags are closed because this always takes me forever

@purgatoan, @thelittleredwhocould, @sammylynne321, @ariannalikescake, @writergirl909, @tlb-kylie, @allinhishands, @winchester-gospels-67, @supernatural0826, @mija-novella, @nerdysandwichqueen, @gemini75eeyore, @imaginespnr5er, @green-love-red-fantasyhearts, @kelsey-spn, @lafayettrash, @emoryhemsworth, @dearnoonethisisurlovesong, @spnolivia, @remybosslika, @ruined-by-destiel, @kickasscas67, @theplaidshirtmadness, @quilliamfears, @charity-elizabeth, @haleyhay96, @latinenglishfandomblog, @smoothdogsgirl, @chelseypaigeake, @katymacsupernatural, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @prideandprejudiceandbrendonurie, @tiffanycaruso, @breakthesociety, @jpadjackles, @abbirae99, @hiddenwritingsintheworld, @karrington7, @leyhikawinchester, @youcanhavit, @faegal04, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @avengersgirllorianna, @mint-and-pastel-pink, @feelmyroarrrr, @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @clueless-gold, @trashforwinchesters, @raeeismee, @supernaturalsuperfreakfan, @blacktithe7, @supernaturalstarbug, @pinkbunnies2001, @danijimenezv, @missbabyfae, @impalaimagining, @im-super-potter-locked, @samcentric-fics, @oriona75, @samsexualdeancurious, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @atc74, @too-much-winchester, @aquabrie, @taylorlaurenthomas, @missvengeance93, @flawsweirdo, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @maxwellthemajestickoala, @castielsgrace-idjits, @typicalweirdbookworm, @relationshipyard, @aeryntheofficial, @summerbee53, @cfordwrites, @im-beautifully-sewn, @xlarryisreallovex, @archer-whovian-violinist, @asgardianvamp21, @shadowpriestess6, @l8nitl0vr, @wificrazymisfit, @buckybarnesisalittleshit

[ask-cross-marian]

Repost, not reblog! Tag 6 muns you would like to get to know better when done!

Name:  Caine-Alexander Nickname: Caine, Alex, Cross, Crossface, Sir arsehole, King of the douchebags, Master Age: 23 Faceclaim: Don’t have one. It used to be Shuichi from Gravitation. Pronouns: He/him Height:  5′8″ Birthday: July 3rd Aesthetic: Dragons,  the moon idk Last song you listened to: The tales of Zestiria opening

Favourite muse(s) you’ve written:  Probably Cross? At least of my canon muses. If we’re talking about OCs I’ll have to say Vanya over at @vaillant-coeur. I used to rp in swedish before I found tumblr. I have a couple of muses I loved to play. Their names are Marilyn, Will, Ryan and Keath. I have a blog here on tumblr for them, but I don’t get on it much.

What inspired you to take on your current muse (that you are posting this on): It started with me actually cosplaying Cross. We had a small group of DGM cosplayers on a con in Sweden and we had fun. I talked with several of those people and we analyzed the characters we were cosplaying in depth. It wasn’t until the lovely @ask-allen-walker-chan showed me another ask blog of theirs that I found tumblr. The roleplaying site I used to be on had shut down, so I thought I’d give tumblr a shot. This is my first blog here.

What are your favourite aspects of your current muse: The fact that on the outside Cross is an alcoholic bastard that wants nothing more in life than to drink expensive wine with a beautiful woman by his side, but on the inside he’s so much more. It shows through this facade he’s put up. The man carries a lot of baggage.

What’s your biggest inspiration when it comes to writing: I don’t know. I close my eyes and I imagine the scenario. I paint the scene in my head and play it like a movie.

Favourite types of threads: Angst. I am a sucker for angst. I enjoy other types of threads too, but I tend to get bored if nothing really happens for long periods of time. When that happens I usually manage to turn things into angst.

Biggest struggle in regards to your current muse: The sexual bits. While smut is fun and I want to write it, I’m horrible with it. I get terribly awkward and sometimes put entire threads that I love off, only because of the smut.

Tagged by: @sozotohakai

Tagging: @yuu-14th-moyashi

[muttsterion]

Stick of Truth Buddies! 

[hidemaru-kyu-picture]

My New Kids from South Park Games (TSoT, TFBW and PD)

2 kids hanging around in various situation

Profile: http://hidemaru-kyu-picture.tumblr.com/post/169346823818/my-new-kids-on-south-park-profile

—

Doodles I drew for a hashtag “Show off what you drew with 1 MP/Mana cost”: Part 14

#消費MP1で描いた絵を晒す で描いたモノ⑭

—

Part 13: South Park and Touhou

Part 12: Touhou Video Game Parody

Part 11: Touhou Parody

Part 10: Touhou x Nihei Tsutomu’s Manga

Part 9: New Year Themed Touhou Stuff

[muttsterion]

Stick of Truth the Kings

[muttsterion]

Stan’s such a good sport. I just break into his room and he’s ready to show me around...then I just steal his underpants right in front of him. 

[muttsterion]

Got a bit lost during the sewer mission playing Stick of Truth, at one point Princess Kenny had enough and left me and would NOT come back down!