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jokeringcutio · 4 months

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Can you make another one of the albert Shaw, but can it be a continuation from the neighbour when he meets her?

AN: Sure ♡ Enjoy :)

Drabble: Albert’s pretty neighbor - part 2

Fandom: The Black Phone (2022), Pairing: (AFAB) Reader x Albert Shaw/The Grabber Ratings: Mature Warnings: Older man x younger woman, attractive neighbor, giving you a free life hack in this, mutual attraction but neither dare act on it, crushing on a villain/the bad guy, thigh clenching, Reader likes Albert’s dog Samson.

The sun was beating down on your exposed skin. You were pulling weeds, dirty nails clawing at the earth, when you heard a soft whimper. Glancing up, you saw Samson, Albert’s hulking cane corso, watching you with those soulful eyes from the other side of the flowerbed. He was separated only from you by your neighbor’s fence, but looked like he would have jumped upon you if it hadn’t been there.

"Hey there, big guy," you cooed, wiping sweat from your brow, the sun a relentless predator above.

"Seems like Samson has taken a liking to you," came a deep, gravelly voice. Albert stood a few feet away, his chestnut hair tousled, grey-blue eyes gleaming under the falling sunlight.

"Does he now?" You chuckled, standing and brushing off your hands on your thighs. You edged closer to the fence, fingers lingering on the wooden slats. Samson's tail wagged, a slow thump against the ground.

"He's usually wary of strangers," Albert confessed, taking a step forward. His gaze never left you. "But you're different."

"Perhaps I'm attracted to the dangerous types,” you teased. The way Albert's eyes darkened, just for a second, made your skin tingle.

Had you said something wrong? Or right? "Or perhaps he senses kinship. He wants to be a good boy, I want to be a good girl," you quickly said, feeling a flutter in your stomach. "Perhaps," he murmured, almost to himself. He cleared his throat, shaking off whatever thought had gripped him. "How’s the garden coming along?"

"Slowly but surely," you sighed, glancing back at the tangled mess of plants. "Seems like every time I make progress, these weeds pop up."

"Gardening is a battle," he said softly, a strange warmth in his voice. His hands, rough and calloused, gripped the top of the fence. "But it's worth it. Beauty for all that effort."

"Yes, exactly." You smiled, feeling a connection, something unnamed sparking between you both. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in despite the age gap, despite the unknown shadows in his eyes.

"Need any help?" he offered, tilting his head, a lock of greying hair slipping over his forehead. He looked almost boyish, and you couldn't help but imagine what his touch might feel like, strong yet tender.

"That's kind of you, Albert, but…" you began, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

"Please. It's no trouble. Neighbors should help each other out." His voice was firm, authoritative, but there was an underlying softness that made you relent.

"All right then," you agreed, heart pounding as he slipped through the gate into your yard. Samson followed, a silent shadow at his master's heel.

"Let’s start over there," Albert suggested, pointing to a particularly stubborn patch of weeds. You nodded, feeling the heat of his body as he moved past you, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with sweat.

"Thanks, Albert. You're very kind,” you said, kneeling down beside him. His smile was warm, but his eyes, those piercing eyes, held secrets. You wished you knew what thoughts made them darken with desire. Was it you? Your presence?

You suppressed a slight shiver. Having him near, smelling his scent, and feeling his hot skin next to your own was enticing.

"Just being neighborly," he replied, his tone light. But you couldn't shake the feeling that beneath the surface, something darker lurked. Something dangerous.

"Well, I appreciate it," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. As you worked side by side, the distance between you seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken words and hidden desires.

"Anytime," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but wonder what lay behind that charming facade, what shadows hid within his heart.

But for now, you let the moment linger, enjoying the rare closeness, the fleeting connection. Even if it was built on a foundation of lies and darkness.

"Anytime," he repeated, almost like a promise. And you couldn't help but hope he'd keep it.

A sudden, sharp clatter came from within Albert's house. You both froze, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes instantly flicked to the side. Samson was there, wagging his tale, happily circling around the two of you as you worked on the flowerbed side by side.

So it wasn’t him. But Albert lived on his own, right?

A burglar?

"Did you hear that?" you asked, instantly rising from your knees.

The sound seemed to have come from his basement. A tiny window that you hadn’t noticed before, situated behind the back, lay at the source of the sound.

"Probably just Samson knocking something over," Albert said quickly, standing up and brushing off his hands. His smile was tight, eyes flickering with an uneasy light.

“Samson’s right here,” you reasoned, trying to peer through his basement window. "It sounded like it came from downstairs." Your heart pounded harder against your ribs, curiosity mingling with unease.

"Must have been the ironing plank,” Albert pressed, blocking your way before you could peer through the bars of the tiny window located slightly above the grass line. You would need to go on your hands and knees for that, but Albert prevented you from doing that, holding out a reassuring hand to signal everything was all right.

And he must be right. If he wasn’t worried, why should you be? A burglar? Unlikely. Nothing as exciting as that had happened in Denver for ages. You were scaring yourself now for no reason.

“Did some of my ironing there earlier today,” he explained in such a calm voice that you felt the tenseness leave your muscles. You slowly started to relax, noticing the delighted spark in Albert’s eyes as he watched you visibly getting less tense.

“It probably fell over. Might not have set it against the wall properly," he insisted, his tone firmer now.

"How about coming inside for a drink? It's awfully hot out here."

You considered for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

Albert led the way into his house, his demeanor shifting from tense to overly casual. You followed, eyes darting around, taking in the neatness of his home. He clearly lived here on his own. No signs of belongings of anyone else. Not that you expected it. You knew he was a bachelor in his fifties, working an ordinary job and living an ordinary life.

Plus, you had seen his home before. He often invited you over for a drink. You figured it made him feel less lonely, that it was nice for him to talk to someone. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be near him. You took every opportunity to be by his side – to hear more about him, listen to that deep and dark voice, watch those bright blue eyes roam over your body, and fantasize that there could be more between you.

Yet… Everything is in its place, but too perfect. Too controlled.

Samson padded behind you, tail still waggling with delight. You flashed him a small smile before looking back at Albert who had come to a halt and was waiting for you to catch up.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing to the living room. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two cans of soda. He handed you one, fingers grazing yours for just a second longer than necessary.

"Thanks," you murmured, taking a sip. His kitchen lacked a certain variety, you mused silently.

You watched him how his eyes darkened, unreadable, as he took a long sip.

"So? Ironing eh?" you said. “Share?”

"Not much to tell," he replied with a shrug, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper. "Did the laundry.”

“You don’t seem to wear anything that needs ironing. Not a lot anyway,” you said, feeling the heat rush through you as you realized you were looking him up and down. His pants perhaps, you thought.

“I wear shirts,” he said in his defense, to which you sputtered and stifled a laugh.

“Hang them to dry on a clothes hanger. No ironing needed, guaranteed.”

The thoughtful expression on Albert’s face made you laugh openly now.

“What? You never thought of that before?”

“Not yet, no,” he reluctantly admitted, but with that small curl of his lips that indicated he enjoyed this banter. His fingers curled tighter around the can he was holding. The fact you noticed this betrayed how you fixated on him.

“I’m just an average guy, trying to get by," he murmured, voice low and not average at all. Not with the way he made the heat rush between your legs, squeezing them together and silently wishing he hadn’t noticed. You clung a little tighter to your own soda can as well, hoping the coolness of the can would cool you down as well.

"Somehow, I don't believe that," you teased, leaning forward slightly. "Everyone has their secrets."

"Maybe," he said softly, his gaze locking onto yours. "But some things are better left buried."

"Is that what you think?" you challenged, feeling a thrill run through you.

"Absolutely," he replied, voice dropping to a whisper.

A silence fell as you tried to think of something clever to say. Your eyes rested upon him, curious, filled with want. You wanted to know more about him, wanted to know why he seemed to have this dangerous edge to him when all he had shown you to be was a nice and helpful neighbor. Attractive too.

Was it all just in your mind?

That was when you noticed Albert sat frozen. His lips parted, his fingers twitching. And only then did you realize that Albert's hand hovered above your knee, fingertips trembling. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken desire. Your breath hitched, heart pounding like a wild drum.

You wanted him to touch you, needed it.

But just like that… he pulled back, eyes flickering with restraint. He didn’t allow you the time to interpret what it was that you had seen in his eyes, for he turned away from you, twisting his torso as he set his can aside. His gaze shifted, catching on the clock on the wall.

"Damn," he hissed, low and urgent. "I have to go."

"Work?" you asked, voice tinged with regret.

"Yes," he said, standing abruptly. The spell shattered, reality rushing back in.

You knew he had traded a shift with one of his colleagues. He had told you earlier when you were both working in your garden. So, for him to announce he had to leave shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

You followed him to the door, each step heavy with unmet longing. You watched as he picked up his vest on the way, throwing it on, grabbing a bag he must have prepared earlier with… dinner?

Then he pushed the door open, holding it for you. He turned, his usual charm slipping back into place. “Ladies first,” he gallantly said, making you smile.

You accepted the gesture and stepped outside, instantly feeling the hot summer sun beat down on you.

"Have a good day at work," you said, smiling.

"Thank you," he said, smiling softly in turn. It was as if your smile had been infectious. His eyes twinkled with something. Mirth? "Take care of yourself."

"Always," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"And how could I forget you!” You almost exclaimed, leaning over to signal Samson to come closer. The dog padded over, tail wagging. You felt Albert’s burning gaze. Was he studying you?

“I’m gonna miss you,” you mewled. “Be a good boy, okay?” You petted his back, then rose again and nodded once more to Albert – a silent sign saying ‘thank you’.

He returned the nod. “We’ll have to do this again, sometime,” he said. And was that a rasp in his voice?

You couldn’t help but smile brightly, excited at the promise of being close to him again. “Of course,” he hadn’t even needed to suggest it. You’d take any excuse to hang out with him.

His eyes locked with yours, dark and swirling with a silent storm – all sorts of emotions you had difficulty naming.

"See you soon." Albert murmured, patting the dog's head. But his eyes were fixed on you, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

"Yeah, see you soon," you said, stepping away from his porch. The door closed behind you, and you heard the click of the lock. With another wave, Albert made his way to his van. You watched as he drove away and finally let out a deep sigh.

Then you turned away, walking back to your own garden, the memory of his hovering hand burning in your mind.

#grabber x reader #grabber x you #the grabber x reader #albert shaw/the grabber x reader #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw #reader insert #the grabber #black phone 2022 fanfiction #older man x younger woman #Reader is the neighbor #Albert Shaw is your neighbor

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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The public, and by public I mean me 😂, want a play date between Kaiser and Cyril 🐕🐕. Destroying Tommy's garden

😂

Omg I died at your request. This was such a fantastic idea, Flor! Hope you'll enjoy some dog chaos 😂 I can't stop giggling when thinking about the moment Tommy will see it...

Summary: As you are waiting for Arthur in Tommy's garden, your afternoon takes an unexpected turn. In fact, Cyril and Kaiser decide to have a play date and it doesn't go well for the mansion's garden.

Words: 1.3k

Notes: This work is a part of Heaven in Your Eyes' universe, but you can obviously read it as a stand-alone.

If there was one thing you hated about your husband, it was his brother Thomas Shelby. That was why you decided to wait outside, in the mansion’s gargantuan garden, rather than accompany Arthur inside. Following the whole prison incident, he had himself become more distant from Thomas, even though the love and loyalty he felt toward his little brother kept him from sinking into pure hatred. Arthur reluctantly left you alone for a while in this potentially hostile environment, only doing so because of the giant hundred pounds dog that watching over you. For sure, Arthur knew that Kaiser would maim and shred any fool who would try to hurt you — you were more than safe when the dog was around.

Here you were, comfortably sitting on a bench surrounded by a dizzying range of colorful flowers whose delicate scent was carried away with the soft spring breeze. Reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for the hundredth time, you felt yourself transported to Wonderland’s garden by the words that were printed on the paper. A relaxed sigh escaped from your plump and glossed lips as the gentle warmth of sun rays caressed your porcelain skin. You were devouring Lewis Carroll’s story when, all of sudden, the loud bark of Kaiser snatched you from your bubble. As a gargantuan Cane Corso, Kaiser’s growls and howls tended to be so booming and low-tone they would make everyone’s quiver, even when the beast just wanted to play.

“What is it, Kaiser?” You asked the dog, closing the book and gently scratching the huge brute behind his cropped ear. Standing at attention, his Hazel eyes were staring far away at the distance. You frowned and looked in his direction, searching for the source of his agitation, “Oh fuck —“ The word fell from your mouth before you could even realize it, for what was catching Kaiser’s attention was the large silhouette of a man in a hat, a huge English mastiff walking beside him. It did not take more than a quick look to recognize the infamous Alfie Solomons. You remained silent, one of your hands firmly closing around Kaiser’s collar to keep him close. To be honest, you mentally crossed your fingers for Alfie Solomons not to notice you for you wanted nothing from him. Not even a greeting.

“Oh! SHALOM MRS. SHELBY!” Alfie’s voice boomed in the distance. Mission failed — the king of Camden Town not only had noticed you but was now heading to you, supporting his weight with a walking stick. You have heard from the Shelbys that his sciatica had become worse over time — not that you cared though, “Shalom.” He repeated, his piercing blue eyes staring at your aquamarine irises with unsettling insistence as he waited for you to greet him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” You gritted through your teeth, unable to hide the gleam of resentment that was burning in your dark pupils.

“Here I finally meet her, Arfah Shelby’s wife and dearest treasure! The angel who fell from Shamayim only to get dicked balls deep by a foul-mouthed, whiskey-drunk, and rabid Peaky Blinders. Not that I want to disrespect dear Arfah, what a scary lad he can be when he’s angry.” Alfie took off his hat when he talked, probably in the hope of showing a bit of respect. Or maybe not, it was always so difficult to probe his attentions and thoughts, even for a witch like you, “You made him a believer tho, and I can understand why now that I’ve met you.”

You bit your inner cheek so hard the metallic taste of blood exploded on your tongue. In case you doubted it you were now certain: you hated him. You were so annoyed by his presence that you did not notice Cyril and Kaiser sniffing each other, tail wagging in contempt.

“Now that we are here, I’d like to give you my most sincere apologies for attempting to murder your husband. It was nothing personal, just some business formalities but thanks God this whole quarrel is behind us now! But know that your lover is one hell of a fucking bastard hard to kill. And God knew I did my best to—“

“Listen Alfie, for the sake of your weird alliance with Tommy we’re going to forget this accident, especially because I was not there at that time. But know that your apologies are not accepted. Pretty sure Mrs. Rose Solomons would dig her nails in Arthur’s chest to rip his heart out if he had tried to kill you. Consider yourself lucky I don’t. Only out of sheer respect for Rosie.”

In the background, Cyril and Kaiser had started playfully jumping at each other, tongues hanging and butts wiggling. Quite a different mood than the one between Alfie and you. The Cane Corso rolled on the ground, his four paws up in the air as the Mastiff sniffed his belly. They seemed to have a hell of a fun moment.

“Bloody hell, woman, Tommy was damn right when he said you were Satan in the shape of an Angel. You’ve got claws just like me woman—“

“Goodbye, Mr. Solomons.” You cut him off, “Come on Kaiser.” You said, processing to leave the place but you stopped when you realized your huge guardian had not followed you, which was unusual taking into account how obedient he was.

“Well, well, would you look at that Mrs. Shelby! Seems like good Cyril and your dog get along pretty well. So well they don’t want to part, ey. You know I’m more than delighted by this new friendship because Cyril tends to feel lonely these days. He had a very great friend at Camden but I shot his owner — sad, sad story.”

“No, Kaiseeeeer.” You muttered to yourself, as you saw the two massive beasts chasing each other and barking playfully, their beady eyes glistening with excitement. Among all the friends Kaiser could have made, he chose Cyril. Not that you had something against that good boy, but it ultimately meant you had to stay near Alfie Solomons the whole time the animals were having fun -- And God knew the man talked too much, too fast, and was hard to follow. To be true, having a discussion with Solomons would always guarantee the apparition of an unpleasant headache. At first, you thought about forcing Kaiser to go, but he looked so happy you had not the heart to deprive him of his new furry brother, “Alright,” You finally resigned. Arms crossed, a moody pout plastered on your adorable angel face, you came back next to Alfie and kept your gaze fixed upon the dogs.

You both stayed there for a little while and surprisingly enough Alfie did not bother you that much. In fact, he was too busy looking at Cyril with a genuine sparkle of love in his eyes — for sure he had a close bond with his dog, as close as the one you shared with yours. Silence hovered above your heads until Cyril and Kaiser, delighted by the mansion’s vastness, ran to the most magnificent part of the garden to wrestle in it. The two adorable but massive beasts rolled in the flowers, their strong bodies crushing all of them and their jaws snatching the other plants. Alfie and you opened your eyes wide and turned toward each other at the very same time, as you both realized that the dogs were wrecking Tommy’s garden. But when your eyes met, surprise faded away and a devilish smirk dawned on your lips.

“Well — that’s problematic, innit?” Alfie said, sarcasm coating his words, “We should stop them.”

“Should we, though?” You replied.

Alfie took a last glance at the dogs, who were now ruining the only part of the garden that had been spared from their destructive paws.

“Naaah,” Alfie concluded.

You snorted in amusement and shifted your focus back to the animals as Alfie did, for you were both like dogs with two tails at the simple fact of bothering Thomas Shelby. They said vengeance was a dish best served cold, but the truth was, for once, vengeance was a dish best served with mud and crushed flowers.

"Fuck Tommy," You said.

"Yeah, fuck Tommy."

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Rose Solomons is @raincoffeeandfandoms ‘s OC

#arthur shelby x reader #Alfie solomons x reader #PEaky blinders imagine #Alfie solomons #Arthur shelby #Peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #Arthur shelby x oc #tommy shelby #alfie solomons imagine #Heaven shelby #Kaiser the Disaster

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letsunity · 1 year

Text

With Thunder Comes Lightning

Summery: Peter and MJ tried again, but the spark wasn't there; they stay as friends to raise their soon-to-be daughter. Everything was going great until evil goop and a spooky vampire guy fall out of an orange portal. Little does Peter know that the biggest pain in his ass and future mutant best friend has landed right at his feet.

art by @gryphll

Chapter 4 - Appointment

Doctor appointments weren't MJ's favourite thing. She had a phobia of needles and other medical garbage. The smell of sterile stuff made her ill.

Of course, Peter has to be the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. For her safety, MJ had their new buddy.

"It's just a checkup. Everything's going to be fine," MJ told herself, biting her lower lip. "I don't feel fine. Ok. Can I have some encouragement?"

"I've never been to a hospital, so I can't accurately assure your safety," Miguel stated, the coldness of it concerning her. "I'll kill whoever comes too close. Does that help?"

"You're trying. That's helpful enough, tough guy."

"I suspect you're infantilising me."

"I have a baby growing in me. Everyone is an infant to me now. And you're, y'know, a decade younger than me."

His little grumble was cute.

MJ might not know how to make a portal watch or swing webs, but she could see when someone was hurt.

The entire situation hurt her best friend; Peter was a good man with a titanic heart, and it weighed heavily on him. She wanted to hug and tell him it was ok, but she couldn't lie to his face. She didn't know how this would turn out.

He cried himself to sleep last night. He was grieving the loss of his friends alone. He tended to put himself on an island when in pain, not wanting to put the burden on others. It was a selfless part of him she used to love, but now she worried.

Her best friend was in pain, as was her new friend.

"Is there anything that they can do here to help you?" MJ asked, her blue eyes wandering up to meet those dark sunglasses.

"There's nothing to help in my universe. I doubt it'll be any different here."

"You never know. They might have something for those allergies and the light thing."

"No."

"Hmm, that sounds like self-harm."

"It's not undeserved."

"What is it with Spidermen and being all self-sacrificing?"

"We have the power to do something. We can do enough to make a significant change. By sacrificing ourselves, the people we protect can rest in peace. That's what it means to be Spiderman."

"Almost sounds like a quote."

"It was. From the Spiderman of my universe before me."

He was from the future, but MJ didn't even consider there might have been a previous Spiderman. Was it like Peter and Miles?

It's exciting learning about other universes.

"What was he like? The one before you?"

"I never met him. He died long, long before I came to be. When Klyntarus ruled our universe, there weren't any heroes or anybody with the power to do something - I'm... still alone on that front. But he was a good man from what I understand."

At least Peter had co-workers, allies and friends.

She was sad knowing that Peter had died there. All of the other heroes, too. It wouldn't be surprising if Klyntarus had something to do with that.

It's sweet that he was inspired by the original Spiderman, though.

He's right, though. If you can make a change for the better, you should.

The creed of Spiderman is to put others before yourself; it's a heavy burden but an honourable one. She respected it.

"I'm glad that he inspired you."

"Gracias."

MJ didn't like the smell of the hospital entrance. It was messy, sterile and also tainted with puke. Thankfully, she wasn't alone in her disgust.

"Oh, mierda. Huele como una morgue horneada," he hissed, cringing.

"No idea what you said, tough guy, but agreed."

She didn't enjoy having to sign in. The receptionists weren't interested in being helpful, mostly ignoring MJ. They only started to pay attention when Miguel growled; it reminded MJ of a pissed-off cane corso.

Having a giant buff Latino vampire proved helpful. He's like a bodyguard, scaring people into listening to her. She used to do that for Peter when people ignored him for being a nerd.

She loves nerds. They've got so many interests and know many intriguing things. They can never bore you.

With the giant having kidnapped their attention, MJ was finally able to get things moving. All they had to do now was linger in the cesspool of stench until her doctor could be assed.

MJ's not happy about sitting on a warm chair surrounded by sick people, all looking as pleased as her.

She hates hospitals.

"How's your first hospital visit?"

"Mierda."

"Agreed."

Although MJ didn't have spidey sense, she had bullshit sense, courtesy of being a little redhead spitfire. She could detect something akin to one of those space wizards in those movies that Peter enjoyed.

There is a foulness in the force.

With some scouring, MJ spotted the source of the foulness. It was a woman glowering at her and her friend, paler than carved marble; she must be anaemic.

MJ's been around long enough to see one of those people.

She's not standing for it. She might be eight months pregnant and a shorty, but MJ had a spider's spirit.

Hopefully, she could distract him from that witch.

"If it's not rude for me to ask, is Nueva a Spanish version of new york?"

"No. It was destroyed in the calamity of 2038 and was rebuilt by Hector Nueva, soon named after him. I'm just Mexican. A little Irish, too."

"You're a damn big leprechaun."

"Very funny. I'm more like a Chupacabra, anyway."

"And here I thought you didn't like vampires."

"I don't. Vampires suck. Chupacabras are cool."

"They do suck."

"You're worse than Parker."

"I take that as a compliment, thank you."

Peter will feel much better knowing that she's not alone. She's got a buddy guard to protect her from any ominous sludge.

All Miguel has to do is sit in the corner and be spooky.

She was due measurements, weighing, blood pressure, a quick ultrasound, and possibly a pelvic exam - she hated those. It's so awkward and invasive.

While MJ should want nobody else in the room, she doesn't get a pervy vibe from Miguel. He didn't react when she came out of the shower, not bothered or even interested. He didn't have a single care about that sort of thing.

Her bullshit sense often intertwines with her gaydar. He's not straight; she knew that much. If she were a gambler, MJ would put her money on asexual.

Does he know what that is? She might ask later.

"MJ."

"Yeah?"

"We need to leave."

"Wait, is it him? Is he coming?" MJ questioned.

She was scared of being too close to that monster. It's hurt her friends so much, and she hasn't even seen it.

MJ didn't get to ask more as a roar echoed from outside.

Before she knew what was happening, she was facing the pale ceiling, bright orange webbing keeping her there. Several other people were up as well, but not her surprise roommate.

A suited Miguel was beneath her in the waiting room, his hands gripping the thick horn of nonother than Aleksei Sytsevich, also known as the Rhino.

Something was wrong, though. His thick hide was burned and scorched, ooze dripping and refusing to mix with his blood.

His face, usually mixed with rage and bloodlust, was full of fear and anguish. Most of his face was gone, reduced to burned bone. He only had a single eye, but she doubted he could see from it.

"Помогите мне кто-нибудь!" Rhino roared, his voice bloodcurdling and terrified. "Обжигает! Обжигает!"

MJ didn't understand Russian, but she knew he was in agony.

A black sludge ripped from his spine, red eyes scowling at Miguel.

"2099! What a coincidence! Such a little universe, hmm?" Klyntarus cackled, forcing Rhino to push forward. "Such weak little bodies. Can you imagine how it feels to be a flame sailing a sea of kerosene?"

"Eres toda mía, perra mocosa!"

"I look forward to you trying."

She winced as Rhino cried again, begging for help that couldn't come.

Klyntarus rammed into Miguel again, pushing him through the empty reception desk. People were running in panic, terrified.

MJ scrambled for her phone, texting Peter as quickly as she could. As soon as he realised she was there, it would go to ultimate shit.

Pick up your damn phone, Parker!

Peter hopped past Morbius' claws, finding them far less impressive than Miguel's. Honestly, the vamp had nothing on Peter's roommate.

He didn't have Miguel's power or claws; even Miguel's fangs were much more intimidating. The red of his eyes had much more potency than Morbius'.

"You are depriving some village of their idiot!" Morbius sneered, trying to pierce Peter.

"And Twilight is missing one of its vamps!"

Peter jumped on the ledge of a balcony, cracking his aching back.

He wasn't sure how to feel about Morbius now. He was somewhat interested at the beginning. After ten years, though? it got old.

At this point, Morbius was the villain of the week.

Weirdly, he felt like a knockoff compared to his fellow spider. He didn't have the same energy or vibe.

He can't put it into words exactly, but compared to Miguel, Morbius is nothing.

"That movie is an insult to what makes vampires so-"

"-Lame?" Peter finished, uninterested. "Are you going to sparkle now?"

"Insolent brat!"

"I'm almost forty, dude."

"You're younger than me, so you're a brat!"

Man, so this is how Miguel felt.

He's still going to annoy him over being younger. What friend would Peter be if he didn't?

When Morbius pounced, Peter jumped onto a nearby roof, feeling his cracked phone buzz. He should ignore it, given he's fighting a "mighty" foe, but his senses demand otherwise.

Peter looked at his phone, seeing a missed call from MJ. Was she done with her appointment already? That was quick!

The text, however, told him otherwise.

Fuck Peter with a salty menorah. He's there.

"I've got a thing. Debate movies with you later, Mikey!"

"Darn you, Spiderman!"

"Whatever!"

He wasted no chance racing towards the hospital, and police were already surrounding the chaos. He landed upon a police car, fear dancing in his bones.

Peter's spidey senses were screaming to run away, but he couldn't. His friends and baby were in there.

As expected, Jameson was still kicking, talking to news cameras, no doubt blaming Peter for this, somehow. He's glad he quit working for that asshole; it was such a toxic environment.

Whatever, he's too old to care about what Jameson's whining about.

Peter swung inside, smelling the rot already. He's here alright. It disgusted him that Klyntarus was attacking a hospital, but he was already vile; Peter shouldn't be shocked at his evil.

There were glowing, orange webs on the ceiling where MJ's text said she'd been. He couldn't see her anywhere, so he would have to go looking. The trail of bloody melted viscera and rot was a good indicator.

The hospital looked like something out of a horror movie; it was decayed, in ruin. It's been infected by Klyntarus.

He was scared that he would find her and hurt them. He was terrified of being a father but even more afraid of losing his child.

Fuck, how can Miguel cope with losing his daughter? Peter hadn't even met his kid and was scared for them.

Peter crept through the ruins, cautiously stepping over suspicious mounds that stank of death. He relied on his spidey senses, but they were overwhelmed by that monster's presence.

Something big had barrelled through the hospital, almost like a torpedo or tank. It would take ages to fix this place up if that were even possible.

Klyntarus destroyed everything around him. It's likely that wherever he goes, it's inhospitable.

He saw some glowing web, a sign of his teammate. He followed it, finding a deep hole that ran so far down that Peter couldn't see the bottom. It appeared to reach the under levels of the hospital; there should only be a basement, though.

Another buzz from his damaged phone - a text!

Peter stared at it, analysing the three dancing dots that eventually became a message. His heart was tachycardic with worry and fear.

The older Spiderman ran, looking at the fading numbers on the doors he passed. He paused at 16B, the one that MJ's number indicated. Despite knowing it could be a trap, Peter broke the door open, scouring the room.

MJ was sitting beside a gurney. She was in shock, afraid and alone.

A recently deceased young man lay not far from her. He was horrifically burned, and most of his left leg was reduced to sludge. He died slowly; Peter knew that as soon as he spotted him.

He quickly came to his best friend's side, checking her for injuries.

"He had Rhino's body," MJ whimpered, shaking from the ordeal. "He was crying for help, Peter. Rhino. He was in agony."

That explained why the hospital had a giant hole in it.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Peter said, bridal carrying his close friend. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No. No, Miguel distracted him so we could run out. Something went wrong, though. The bodies didn't stay -"

"Parker!"

Peter twisted to the deceased man, who was now sitting up, black fluid running from his orifices. His eyes were empty, devoid of life, but something was in there, puppeteering him.

He was close to tightening his grip but knew it'd hurt MJ. He wouldn't do that to her.

She clung to his body, hiding her face in his chest.

"He will reign long, and your friend will be far too gone!" the corpse cackled, rotting at an astonishing rate. He melted to bones before Peter's eyes. Not even his clothes survived the rot.

As cryptic as that was, Peter knew what it was implying.

Peter had to get MJ outside first, however.

He made his way out of the hospital, feeling that fear fade with each step. The further from Klyntarus he was, the more confident he felt.

Did Klyntarus' very presence rot your soul? It seemed so.

"Keep her safe," Peter ordered a surprised and confused police officer, turning back towards the building. "And don't let anybody else inside. I mean it."

"It's the same thing that killed those heroes, isn't it?" the officer said, removing her jacket to cover MJ. "Don't die in there, Spiderman."

"I don't plan on it."

He couldn't make any promises.

So, fear growing in his chest, Peter returned to the leftover Walking Dead set. He wouldn't be shocked to find Rick Grimes' room where he was somehow untouched in a coma for a year.

That entire show was a fever dream; he was sure of it. After Glenn died, the only fun left was, ironically, Negan. He'll have to make Miguel watch that.

When he arrived at the suspicious hole, Peter jumped. His knees complained when he landed, cracking in all the wrong and unsatisfying ways.

The fear of Klyntarus was far more potent than before, suffocating Peter in an aura of fear and death.

He's not looking for that thing, though.

Peter quickly spotted the entrance to a tunnel that shouldn't exist.

Rhino's body lay mangled and twisted at the entrance like a macabre decoration. Instead of being melted, it looked like a savage beast and tore the poor bastard apart. He didn't want to be on the backside of whatever caused that.

He walked down the tunnels, listening out for his friend.

His senses went off, sending a tingle down his spine. He turned around, annoyed to see Morbius had followed him.

"Not the time, Count Lame-ula. Ugh, that sounded better in my head. Whatever, could you go and haunt some little kid's birthday party? I'm in the middle of something."

"What horrors could have created such strife?" Morbius asked, both in awe and horrified by the situation.

"An extradimensional genocidal evil Symbiote that decays whatever he touches. You should go before you eats you, too."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

"You're trying to deceive me!"

"Not everything is about you!"

"Fool! I am the reincarnation of the great Count Dracula!"

"Sure, and I'm the reincarnation of Link - see my little fairy, Navi? We're on our way to rescue Zelda," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes behind his mask. "Just go bother someone else, alright?"

Vampires suck.

Peter paused, feeling something else was down here. It wasn't Klyntarus, but it felt similar and yet distinct. He could feel it was nearby and dangerous, but not the precise position.

That "something" was coming and fast.

Of course, Morbius acted like a child and attempted to attack Peter while distracted. He wouldn't get the chance to get close, however.

A blur of red and dark pounced upon Morbius before he could reach Peter, his senses screaming at him to run. He couldn't see what it was but could hear the rabid rage and terrified cries.

Peter webbed the mysterious form and pulled it away from Michael, hearing a dog-like grunt of annoyance and frustration.

A pair of deep, red eyes stared back at Peter. They were similar to Klyntarus'; they had his unique shade, but Klyntarus didn't have pupils or irises. The eye shape was far too human to be Klyntarus, even if he tried to make a human body.

The eyes were what Peter was focused on at first, but then he saw what the rest of the red was.

A suit.

"Miguel?" Peter questioned, realising what, or rather who, he was looking at.

His pupils were so thin they were almost non-existent. He was shaking, breathing heavily and hunched over, foamy drool dripping onto the ground.

While Miguel didn't exist to Peter's spidey sense, this did. It wasn't the same as Klyntarus, but it was similar enough.

Miguel was swallowing air. It's like he was in a scary trance, trapped far away.

His claws were out, ready to scratch something that wasn't there. His fingers were shaking so much.

Peter felt like he was looking at a werewolf, pure instinct and consciousness battling for control, and the former was dominant.

Morbius shifted into shadows, reforming behind "Miguel". It was a stupid idea, for Miguel turned and bit Morbius' arm.

Having seen what it could do to Klyntarus, Peter grabbed his friend. The stupid villain was clawing at Miguel's face, trying to make him let go. Glowing blue was dripping from Morbius' arm - the venom was already being delivered.

"Get it off me!" Morbius yelled, turning his vampiric claws to Miguel's neck. He wouldn't let go, eyes staring at something that wasn't there.

It was clear Miguel wasn't there. He couldn't hear Peter, stuck in this bizarre and scary trance.

An idea came to Peter.

He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it directly into Miguel's eyes.

The trance version of his friend yowled, letting go to cover his eyes. While Morbius had left deep scratches on his face, the photophobia forced him to let go.

Morbius stumbled back, his arm shaking horribly.

Ignoring the vampire, Peter grabbed Miguel's shoulders, trying to figure out what was happening.

His "buddy" dropped his arms loosely, glowering towards Peter, but it didn't seem directed at him.

"It's me. It's Peter, alright?" Peter said, trying to get through to him. "How about we sit down? Does that sound good?"

He knew Miguel was much more powerful than him, but Peter's faster. If he needed to, Peter could stick to the walls or ceiling.

Encouraging his distant friend to sit down, Peter watched him, paying attention to his eyes.

Without any stimulation, he watched the redness in his eyes fade. When the red left, some awareness returned, replaced by confusion.

"What happened?" Peter asked, glancing at the groaning Morbius still clutching his arm.

"Había mucho ruido," Miguel muttered, rubbing his eyes. "He tried to take me. Estúpido bastardo."

The corpse's warning.

Did Klyntarus trigger a flight or fight response, only instead of Miles' invisibility, Miguel went rabid? It could've been a PTSD thing, too.

"Where's MJ?"

"She's safe," Peter said, feeling Klyntarus' presence growing. "We need to go."

Peter grabbed the taller man's side, feeling his broken ribs. That never seemed to stop him.

"I can move."

"I don't doubt that, but you still seem out of it."

The possession attempt had an impact, as he was still spaced out. It was like he was stoned or drunk.

"Happens sometimes," his friend grunted, a noise that did things Peter wished it didn't. "I didn't hurt you?"

"No. All I'm hurting from is arthritis."

"I always hurt someone..."

He didn't like hearing the sadness and regret there. And Peter couldn't say that he hadn't. He attacked Morbius and must've killed Rhino, though that seemed to be a mercy.

"Indeed."

Peter scowled at Morbius' body, watching "his" head tilt. While Peter was focused on Miguel, he didn't even realise Morbius got snatched.

He didn't like the guy, but Morbius didn't deserve that fate.

The kidnapped body was already starting to decay.

"I'm going to take everything from you, Peter. I'll break you in ways you didn't think could be broken. And I'll have him, too," Klyntarus vowed, tilting Morbius' head too far to the right. "I'll let you play with my toy for now. It'll make it all the easier to break him after I've shredded your soul."

"What's to stop me from walking over there and ripping you out of there?"

"Because you're like all the other Parkers I've eaten. You don't kill, even when you want to. You won't kill me while I'm in someone's body. It's cowardice I thankfully bred out of my true body." His friend hissed, but it only made Klyntarus smile. "You've come so far from the fragile ball of flesh I ripped from that whore wetback."

Peter can't kill. It's his greatest strength and his weakness. How is he meant to beat something that'll only stop if it's destroyed?

He needed to get Miguel out of here and look after MJ. He had to find somewhere safe for her to stay.

Regardless of how his friend felt, they needed help. They were going to get the X-Men for backup.

"Until I find a more suitable temporary vessel, Parker. Farewell."

Peter shot a web at Morbius' possessed body, but he vanished into shadow.

Another day where he could've done something but didn't have the balls. That was a theme he was getting angry at.

"Maldito cobarde."

"Yeah, to whatever you said, pal."

Xavier's going to have a field day over this.

Special thanks to spider-the-bat for the borders!

#ao3 refugee #ao3 might be fucked #ao3fic #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #spiderdads #klyntarus #symbiotes #mj watson #bestie goals mj #across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #attempted spanish #plague of the spiderverse series #with thunder comes lightning

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luckyroll3 · 3 months

Text

Crimson Lights: Chapter 4

A playful jingle sounds from my phone and I practically snap my neck swiveling to reach it. Despite not seeing Chris for over a week, we've kept in touch through regular texting, carrying on our conversations and flirtatious banter through our phones.

Chris: Still available for dinner tonight?

Kay: Yes! Planning to leave work in a few. What time should I come over?

Chris: I’ll start cooking around 7:00. Can’t wait to see you. I’ve been having dirty thoughts all day. I’ll send you the code for the elevator.

His message makes me blush a little. I walk back to my laptop, making sure to save and close all my important documents before tidying up my desk at the clinic. Ready to leave, I pack up my bag and head out, eagerly anticipating my dinner date with Chris that evening.

—

With my skin still dewy from a refreshing shower and my body moisturized, I slip into a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. I want to strike the perfect balance between cute and casual.

Shortly after 7:00, I enter Chris’ code in the elevator, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation dancing in my stomach. The elevator dings its arrival on his floor and the doors slide open. I step into the living room and see Chris standing in the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. He’s wearing ripped black jeans and a black t-shirt. His eyes light up when he sees me. He strides over and wastes no time pulling me into a tight embrace.

“Hey gorgeous,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I return his hug and melt into him, savoring the feel of his arms around me. He takes my hand, intertwining his fingers in mine and leading me to the kitchen. “I hope you’re not too hungry. I just got started.”

“You’re hot, rich, and can cook? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Chris chuckles at my comment, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just wait until you taste the food before you start giving me too much credit,” he teases, nudging me playfully with his elbow. I can't help but laugh, feeling at ease and comfortable in his presence.

He pours two glasses of red wine and hands me one. I take a sip and ask, “Can I help with anything? I don’t really like to cook, but I can chop and I’m a damn good taste tester.”

“Ha! What’s your comfort level with salads?” He gestures to a lettuce head, several tomatoes and some other veggies.

“Salads I can handle!” I take another sip of the wine, then wash my hands.

He hands me a knife with a hint of skepticism in his eyes. “Don’t fuck it up!” he says with a laugh.

We work side by side for the next few minutes, our conversation flowing as effortlessly as it had the other times we’d been together. We cover light-hearted banter and deeper topics. I find myself opening up to Chris in a way I haven’t with anyone else, feeling a sense of connection beyond just our physical attraction.

“What’s your favorite meal? Just so I know for next time,” he says over his shoulder as he grabs some spices from the cabinet, a playful lilt in his voice.

"Next time?" I muse. "That's rather presumptuous, don't you think?"

"Is it? Or is it simply hopeful thinking?" His chuckle was rich and smooth.

"Maybe a little bit of both," I admit, feeling a smile tug at my lips. “I’m a simple girl: homemade mac and cheese. And not that shit out of the blue box!”

He laughs loudly. “I would never!” he says, pretending to be offended. We continue our back-and-forth banter, laughing and chatting.

I finish my salad duties and hop onto the bar counter. I pour myself another glass of wine and as I take a sip, I watch as Chris skillfully maneuvers around the kitchen, his movements fluid and confident. There is something deeply attractive about a man who knows his way around a kitchen and I find myself being more entranced with each chop and stir. I continue my story about the two gigantic cane corso puppies that bounded into the clinic earlier today. I recounted how their long, gangly legs tripped over each other as they eagerly explored their new surroundings. Despite their size, they were undeniably adorable. “They were so damn clumsy with those big feet, but also so fricken cute!”

“Cuter than me?” He glances up from the simmering red sauce he stirred with care.

“Oh absolutely!” I laugh, taking another sip of wine.

He gives me a charming grin, his dimples deepening as he turns back to the pot of sauce. He carefully adds a pinch of salt and stirs it in. He takes a small spoon from the counter, then dips it into the sauce. As he brings it to his lips, I can see him blow on it gently to cool it down before walking over to offer it to me. “Tell me what you think?” He brings the spoon to my lips, allowing me to take a sip of the sauce before tasting it himself. “More garlic?” he asks.

I let the flavors of the sauce dance on my tongue before nodding approvingly. “It’s delicious,” I say, unable to tear my gaze away from his eyes.

Emboldened by my second glass of wine, I wrap my legs around him, trapping him in place as I press my lips to his in a kiss that starts soft, but quickly escalates.

He stiffens in surprise, the spoon in his hand pausing mid-air. But then he’s kissing me back, matching my fervor as his free hand finds its way to my waist, pulling me even closer to him. The world shrinks down to the space where our bodies meet, the taste of him mingling with the lingering flavors of the wine and sauce on my tongue. It’s all-consuming and intoxicating.

The kiss ignites something wild within me that grows as Chris drops the spoon and both of his hands roam the small of my back, urging me impossibly closer. His fingers slip up under my shirt, tracing the column of my spine. I respond instinctively, my own hands yanking his tucked shirt free from his jeans before venturing beneath it to explore the taut muscles of his abdomen. I feel his muscles tense beneath my touch, urging me on. I press my crotch against his and feel him starting to get hard. The anticipation, built up from being interrupted before, was almost unbearable. With trembling hands, I fumble with the button on his jeans, desperate for more. As I finally manage to open it and tug down the zipper, I feel him moan against my lips. The sound only fuels my desire further as I reach eagerly for his cock.

The cocoon of intimacy enveloping us is suddenly shattered by the ding of the elevator, followed by a cacophony of voices and laughter as the doors open. My heart sinks as I look up at Chris; I feel defeated and frustrated by yet another interruption. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I whisper-yell at him, throwing my head back in exasperation before breaking into a laugh. “I can’t even be mad anymore.”

Chris lets out a groan and zips up his jeans, clearly caught off guard by our unexpected visitors. “Shit,” he whispers back, a mixture of shock and annoyance crossing his features as he steps back from me. “I had no clue they were stopping by.” Chris turns towards the elevator, raising his voice to a shout, “Uh, hey! What the fuck are you losers doing here?”

I find my wine glass and take a long sip as I watch five men make their way off the elevator - Changbin, Felix, Hyunjin, Han, and an unfamiliar face he was holding hands with. This must be the partner Han mentioned at the party.

Changbin offers his fist towards Chris in greeting as he says, "I told them you had plans tonight." They bump fists before pulling each other into a manly hug. "But when they heard you were cooking...you know how these fuckers are."

“Yeah, I know.” Chris sighs in resignation. Despite his annoyance, I can tell he’s secretly pleased to see them. He greets each of them with a warm hug and playful banter. It's almost as if he hasn't seen them in ages, even though it’s probably been just a few hours since they were last together. It brings a smile to my face.

With a joyous skip in his step, Changbin approaches me with a grin spread across his face. "Kay! Up top!" he exclaims, extending his hand for a celebratory high five. I oblige and our palms connect with a satisfying smack. "I can take responsibility for the other two interruptions, but this one is not my fault. I tried to stop them!" He bursts into laughter when he sees my raised eyebrow, clearly questioning what he knows. "Chan tells me everything. I'm his BFF," he boasts gleefully before settling onto one of the bar stools.

"Great," I mutter, hopping off the counter and taking the stool next to him with a sigh. "So now everyone knows I have blue balls."

"They suspect," Changbin corrects me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "But I'm the only one who knows for sure." He pours himself a glass of wine and refills mine, his demeanor playful and carefree.

I hear Hyunjin’s voice behind us, “So this is what you’re up to….10th floor girl. I approve!”

Both Chanbin and I swivel our stools around to face them. “Hi Kay,” Felix says in his deep voice with a bright smile. “Ignore him,” he adds playfully as he shoves Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“Thanks. Who’s this?” I point my chin towards Han’s partner.

“This is my lover, Minho,” Han introduces very dramatically.

Minho rolls his eyes, but extends his hand for me to shake.

“How long until the food’s ready,” Han asks as the group settles onto the couches.

Chris walks back to the kitchen and calls over his shoulder, “Probably another 45 minutes.”

Changbin and I have a casual conversation at the bar while the others have a lively discussion in front of the TV. Suddenly, Han makes a loud declaration, causing Changbin to burst out with a hearty laugh as he yells, “The lies, the lies, the lies!” His contagious laugh spreads to the others, who all join in, including Chris, who snorts with amusement as he places a tray in the oven.

I turn to Changbin, my curiosity piqued. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a housewives fan!"

His eyes light up with excitement. "Are you kidding? I love that shit," he declares. "I watch every single one... but don't spoil anything for me. I haven't caught up with last week's episodes yet." As he speaks, his hands gesture animatedly in the air, emphasizing his love for the guilty pleasure TV shows. He and I discuss some of the newly casted housewives.

I hear Hyunjin say my name, and I strain to hear what he’s saying about me amidst all the conversations. Minho tries to shush Hyunjin as he erupts into loud, raucous laughter. My attention snaps towards the couch, where Chris has suddenly appeared, seemingly teleporting from the kitchen in record time. He stands at the back of the couch, towering over Hyunjin and gripping under his neck firmly from behind. The room falls silent, everyone on the couch seemingly holding their breath. Changbin looks unbothered, like he’s used to seeing scenes like this play out. He takes a sip of his wine.

Chris forcefully tilts Hyunjin’s head back so that he is looking down directly into Hyunjin’s face. Their eyes meet. His voice drops low as he issues a warning. “Behave,” he growls.

“C’mon hyung! I’m just….,” Hyunjin pleads through his laughter. Chris raises his eyebrow as he cocks his head to the side, silently challenging Hyunjin to finish his sentence. Understanding the unspoken threat, Hyunjin quickly quiets down. “Ok, fine. Sorry,” he concedes with a sigh and a roll of his eyes.

“Good boy,” Chris says. He leans down to give Hyunjin a quick kiss on the corner of his lip before releasing him and heading back to the kitchen.

Felix lets out a relieved breath and then playfully slaps Hyunjin on the back of his head. "Stupid," he whispers.

The boys seamlessly slip back into their previous conversation, their laughter echoing through the air. As they joke and tease each other, I turn my attention back to Changbin. “What the hell was that?” I question, still trying to make sense of the strange and unexpectedly intimate moment I had just witnessed.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz fanfic #bang chan #bangchan fanfic #bang chan imagines #skz smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #bangchan #changbin #changbin smut #changbin imagines

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andromedaspark · 1 year

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Characters as dogs.. again. Because I'm insatiable.

Gavin: German Shepherd

Nines: Cane Corso

Sixty: Red-Nose Pit Bull

Connor: Blue-Nose Pit Bull

Hank: Great Pyrenees

Markus: Doberman

Simon: Basenji

North: Belgian Malinois

Josh: Chesapeake Bay Retriever

Kara: Border Collie

Luther: Tibetan Mastiff

Alice: Bluetick Coonhound

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lilbitdepressed27 · 1 year

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Could do a tara carpenter x fem reader

Everyone finds a dog near Sam and tara building

*sam is against the idea of keeping the dog because it’s a mastiff breed*

But everyone outvote her and decide to care for the dog until they find the owner.

*Poor tara who drew the short straw and she has the task of walking the dog and got dragged all across the park and Mindy witness the whole thing and recorded it

*you could hear her laughter in video and tara yelling “don’t just stand there!!!! HELP “ before it cuts to the sound of a splash*

Mindy on the floor dying of laughter in the room and show them the video

But for some reason this dog is strangely attach to Tara and choosing to stay by her side. In a cute moment imagine tara having a nightmare then the dog trying to show comfort to her. And she sleep while hugging his head🥺. They all start warming up to the dog until someone appears with a flyer and is like “hi I believe you found my dog”

*tara becomes flustered at seeing this pretty girl and both become closer*

Fast forward when Ghostface show up at tara and Sam apartment

*it backfires because they werent expecting a dog nor r to be there. so in a way, everyone who isn’t ghostface survives. Anika deserve to live damn it!!!!*

In my head I can imagine Quinn calling Ethan to abort the whole thing Because their dad got badly mauled by the dog and don’t want to risk getting caught without a plan but yk dogs are a great judge of character and can sense a bad person and he never like Ethan, Quinn or her dad.

Always snarling at them or nipping at them.

R would even question if Quinn was dead because her dog kept growling at her when they put her in a body bag. Like how the hell didn’t you notice ghostface in your room? She would trust her dogs more than people.*

*now everyone has a closer bond with r. Even Sam who’s not very trusting of people*

In my mind I was thinking “it’s bad enough/embarrassing that ghostface getting beaten/outsmarted by the main protagonists, imagine them being defeated by a dog” and this was inspired by the Spider-Man miles morales game. In the game there a side quest and if you complete it you can fight crime with a cat as a sidekick

bad guy getting his ass handle by Spider-Man then you see a cat come out of his backpack. Imagine that same guy in jail and everyone asking how you got beaten by Spider-Man and question you why you have claw marks on your face 👀👀

Is it okay if I do this request instead of the other red vs blue crossover request? I haven’t seen it and I don’t think I’d do it any good. I like this request cause of the dog. I love dogs and I was thinking the dog could be a Cane Corso? I used to have one when I was a kid :D

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #fem!reader #x reader

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wrestle-catboy-vault · 5 months

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"just a bad dream", ft tjp, francesco akira and wardogs

Alley cat was a title that fit TJ for most of his life. He knew the ins and outs of every street in the city, every little nook and cranny that he could squeeze into still has the tiniest hint of the cat hybrid's scent. Spaces like those are key when escaping from unwinnable fights after all. Not many things were on that list for TJ, but one of the main ones were the bigger dog hybrids. He could, and has, chased off and even nearly killed some smaller dog hybrids who were dumb enough to pick a fight with the prince of the alleyways. But anything twice his size or bigger he tended to show some respect for. A loud bark shakes TJ out of his thoughts as he gnaws on some pigeon bones. It's source comes hurdling down the street and stops right in the entrance of the alley, a Pomsky. Definitely a hybrid, TJ picks up on the distinct scent immediately. The Pomsky must've picked up on him first, as he made a beeline for the alley he was in. TJ shoves the bones away with a paw and readies himself to fight. The dog looks tough, snapping his jaws and barking awfully loud, but TJ knows that the louder ones bark is, the less they bite. The Pomsky charges at top speed, TJ jumping for the wall to dodge, then falling on top of the dog with his claws out. His sharp nails dig into his back and teeth sink into the back of his neck, the dog bucking like a wild bronco trying to get him off. The Pomsky turns reckless, charging into the sides of the alley on purpose, trying to crush the cat and unstick it off his back, but TJ doesn't budge. His teeth sink in deeper, drawing blood as the dog whimpers. There's suddenly more loud barking coming towards the alley, TJ's ears pivoting towards the sound. Three more dogs appear at the mouth of the alleyway: a Picardy Spaniel, a Doberman and the biggest of them all, a Cane Corso. All hybrids as well. Now it's time to run. But just as TJ sheaths his claws, the Pomsky whips around in a flash and pins him to the ground, jaws locked on the cat's neck, wild blue eyes meeting him all too close. The other three dogs make their way into the alley and surround TJ, looking down at him and snarling, licking their chops and wagging their tails. These seemed like the type of dogs who liked to play with their food. And alley cat was on the menu. --- TJ springs up, his human claws unsheathing and digging into the bedsheets. Frankie sturs from the sudden motion, waking up with a yawn and a stretch. "...TJ?" The ginger hybrid softly asks in the darkness, reaching a hand out to touch him. His hand makes contact and TJ seems to instantly calm a bit. "...I'm here. I'm alright, just some weird dream." TJ replies just as soft, leaning down to kiss Frankie's forehead. The ginger hybrid starts purring right away, both hands reaching for him and pulling him onto himself. TJ can't help but crack a smile and a short chuckle, wrapping his arms around the slightly smaller hybrid. "Thanks, Akira. Love you, bud." "Love you too-!" Frankie reaches up to kiss his cheek and the two fall back to sleep together with only the sweetest dreams.

#admin achi #tjp #tj perkins #francesco akira #united empire #writing #catboy au #catboys #catboy #the catboy agenda

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banamine-bananime · 9 months

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the blues dogified according to me

tldr: caboose = komodor (or great pyr), tucker = mini bull terrier (or westie or fox terrier), tex = cane corso/dogo argentino, church = australian cattle dog, kai (and grif) = english bulldog, wash = malinois. bangs gavel.

caboose: i see great dane i do. i get it. it makes sense. however caboose refuses to make sense so i think it's way funnier if he's an LGD breed with the most baffling temperament for an LGD. why is he so cuddly and human-attached and goofy and Making Poor Decisions?? he's got the guarding drive but it's like AUGH SO SMALL I MUST. PROTECT IT. WITH MY MOUTH. WHY IS IT NOT MOVING ANYMORE. UHHH IT WASN'T ME. great pyr would be good but consider: komodor

photo: Laszlo Balogh

tucker: absolutely a horrible little terrier. annoying, cocky, mischievous, extremely yappy thing with no trainability that seems totally useless for anything but humping pillows, until, suddenly, he locks onto some goal with terrifying singleminded determination, persistence, scrappiness, and competence that you would never fucking expect. and then it's done and he's an idiot again. mini bull terrier or westie or fox terrier

photo: Otsphoto

Tex: powerful, large, extremely active, and will play rough and assert dominance and test boundaries. got a healthy dose of "chill, total doofus" in her, too. the kinda dog some moron (i'm not talking about the director nooooo /s) gets as a guard dog, not realizing she's less made to be singlemindedly, territorially dedicated to one person and one place and more to - despite being very loyal and affectionate to her people - not be tied down to them, needing the thrill of running and chasing and catching prey. the kinda dog some asshole gets for bite sports and his ego, not realizing one day she'll get fed up with his chains and shock-collars and cesar milan-ass "training" and play bite-sports with his organs (<- me being extremely Normal about tex getting bloody revenge). i was caught between cane corso for the looks and dogo argentino for the historical purpose of hunting and catching large game, so let's say a mix of them.

vvv tex's silly side and scary side battling for dominance vvv

photo: cannot find source :(

photo: Dogo Argentino Kennel Club

church: i thought about husky for the aloof pissiness, needing a job but assigning it to himself and being fucking crazy about it, and unrelenting loud and weird complaining, but i think husky assignments should be reserved for characters with a very particular and truly insane kinda energy. australian cattle dog works quite well imo: WILL NOT SHUT UP (lol "Potential for excessive barking, often in a high-pitched voice"), velcro dog to His Person, super smart yet also somehow extremely dumb and gets dumber the longer he's left without stimulation to spiral, STUBBORN, suspicious of strangers and Very Not Friendly

photo: Sandra Caldwell (lmao this dog looks so done with it all.)

kai: i considered her and grif together and have decided: Old English Bulldogs. for grif, the sleepy laziness and messiness. for kai, the happy, outgoing friendliness. for both of them, the lack of any trainability or motivation to do what someone says to do Just Because and thus seeming to be dumb as hell to humans who base that on how well they Do What Human Wants, until suddenly there's a way to get out of doing something they don't want to do or of getting something they actually care about and suddenly they're the smartest dogs on earth.

photo: IrynaKabuliuk

wash: he is SO cop-dog coded. i don't mean that like oh he's like a cop so as a dog he's a cop-dog. that would be boring and also incorrect. i mean cop-dog coded like having someone look at your suspicious, reactive nature, resulting anxiety and difficulty living In A Society because everything is a potential threat or insult and you have to defend yourself and deal with the Anger through violence, and say, "Oh yeah we can enhance and exploit the fuck out of this". *points* MALINOIS. if malinois had opposable thumbs they would throw a lot more knives and if wash didn't have a helmet he would bite a lot more people. anyways, i can't put it better than "Sometimes playing the mischievous clown, yet more often serious, the Belgian Shepherd is highly observant with strangers, typically reserved and aloof, and has strong protective instincts. As such, Belgian Shepherds need more extensive socialization than most breeds so that their watchfulness doesn't become suspiciousness or sharpness." also the athleticism.

carolina: don't have an individual breed assignment for her bc church and tex are the same breeds as the director and allison. she's got the ACD/general herding breed athleticism (it skipped a generation) and FASSSSSST and bidability and eagerness to Achieve and Win. she's got the cane corso/dogo argentino aggression and power and loyalty and guarding instinct. supermutt as in like superwoman.

#rvb #red vs blue #alexa send post

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