#switch!marcy

[squealing-santa]

A Chilly Evening in Amphibia

Gift For: @koala-fluff A/N: hello koala!! i’ve never written for these three before so i hope i did them justice! merry christmas and happy holidays <3 — spooky!anon Word Count: 802

Anne, Marcy, and Sasha were sitting on the Plantars’ couch, Sasha reading a novel, Marcy journaling, and Anne reading her friends’ books over their shoulders. They were on housewatching duty while the frogs were out on a family excursion.

Rain drummed against the roof. Sasha sighed contentedly. It was nice to get some leisure time in Amphibia, sharing a peaceful moment with her friends. Well, almost peaceful.

“Sashaaa,” Anne whined from beside her. “I’m cold.” A brief gust of wind rushed through the room, making her shiver and scoot closer to Sasha.

Sasha nudged her friend’s arm off her book. “Close the windows,” she suggested.

“Noo, that’ll make the room stuffy.”

“Put on a jacket then.”

Anne turned to Marcy. “Nope,” the dark-haired girl said without looking up from her writing.

“I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were gonna ask to borrow my hoodie. And the answer is no.” Marcy peered over her journal at Anne, who was now making puppy-eyes at her. “Just close the windows.”

Anne pouted. “Please? Can I borrow it? For five minutes?” Marcy gave her a thoughtful look.

“Hmm. Still nope.” Anne made an exasperated noise as Marcy resumed her journaling.

Anne turned to Sasha again. The blonde shrugged, giving her a small smile. “I’d help you, but this is getting interesting”—

She gestured to her book. — “and I am not putting it down because you’re too stubborn to close the windows.”

Marcy huffed with amusement. Anne groaned. “Mar-Mar, please? You don’t have to take it off, just let me put my fingers in your pockets.” Anne reached over and slid her hands into the large kangaroo pocket in the front of Marcy’s hoodie.

Marcy let out a startled yelp and jerked away from her, dropping her journal and pen into her own lap. “Anne, don’t do that!”

Anne pulled her hands away from Marcy with an apologetic grin. “Sorry, I forgot how ticklish you are.”

“I am not! You startled me, that’s all.” Marcy averted her gaze, face slightly flushed.

Anne gave her ribs a poke, earning herself another started yelp from the girl. Marcy covered her ribs with her journal, barely masking the smile that jumped to her face with a glare. Anne, the scruffy menace, had a wide grin on her face that boded very unwell for Marcy’s ribs. “Anne, don’t,” Marcy warned, without any real threat behind her words.

“Can I borrow your hoodie then?” Anne asked innocently. Marcy glared stubbornly back. She shook her head.

“You know, we could always share the hoodie.”

Marcy was about to ask what that was supposed to mean when Anne slid her hands under the thick gray fabric of her hoodie and started prodding her sides.

Marcy screeched and burst into giggles, shoving at her friend’s forearms. It proved ineffective as Anne’s evil, evil fingers crawled their way up her torso, poking into the gaps between each rib. She crumpled into Anne’s arms, pushing weakly at her elbows as she laughed.

The shirt she was wearing under her hoodie was thin and offered absolutely no protection against the onslaught of wiggling fingers. Between her giggles, Marcy managed to squeal, “Anne, Anne, Anne what are you dohohoing?!”

“Warming up!” Anne was laughing too now, mostly at Marcy’s wild squirming and thrashing. “My hands are warmer already, thank you.”

“You ahahare awful!” Marcy choked out before dissolving into another bout of giggles.

“Thank you again,” Anne replied with a cheeky grin, half-clawing, half-kneading at Marcy’s ribs. She reached down to give her sides the occasional pinch as well, making her friend’s laughter double in volume, Marcy screeching every time her fingers moved to tickle her sides.

Anne chuckled at her friend’s predicament. Until she felt cold fingers digging into her own ribs. She let out a laugh, her fingers stilling for a moment. It was enough for Marcy to get a good grip on her ribs and start tickling furiously.

“Maharcy! I’m sorry!!” Anne squealed through her laughter. She kneaded at Marcy’s hips, trying to startle her into letting go.

Marcy was still managing to claw at Anne’s ribs through her own laughter. “You’ll be sohorry when I’m through with you!”

They wrestled for a few more minutes, each trying to tickle the other into crying uncle.

“Alright you two, as fun as this is to watch, you’re being very loud and distracting and I would like to get back to my novel,” Sasha said over their laughter. “Cut it out, or I’ll personally tickle you to pieces.”

Anne reluctantly withdrew her fingers from under Marcy’s hoodie. Marcy pulled her own hands back as well, still trying to quell her residual giggles.

“Truce?” Anne asked.

“Truce.” Marcy pulled her hoodie over her head and threw it over the both of them, pulling Anne closer to share its warmth.

[jaywuzhere9029]

the amphibian digital circus,, why not

[aimseytv]

marceline was crazy for this one 

[jaekaicx]

what could've been

[mouse-wife]

finally made a custom 3ds theme (top screen art by birdblitz bottom by inuamaru)

[narfoonthenet]

A trope that I've come to absolutely love recently is "group of friends who love, respect, and appreciate each other but there's one who Must Be Protected At All Costs and their friends would utterly destroy anyone who so much as insult them because they're Baby despite possibly being a combat vet who can literally destroy the world"

Bonus points if the friend group almost lost them in a traumatic event.

[sparkdoesart]

if you could be a fictional character for a day, but you had to spend that day in the setting from a different fiction (oc allowed for both categories)? who would you be where?

That is such a painful question. Oh wow. The thing is, i heavily attach myself to my favorite character at the time, so of course, I'd want to say ryan, but i also would love to go on the train. Alright alright

Character would be Ryan Akagi, and the setting would be Amphibia because why the hell not.

Honestly, make it more than a day even. I'd love to see Amphibia.

[alphashley14]

One Of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

Chapter Eleven

Keep on Living

After their impromptu concert, the Mystery Skulls gave their guests a full tour of the mansion - the parts they were allowed in anyway - and they were told about the house’s other ghosts. 

First were the suits of armor, which lined the hallways and seldom moved, but were very much haunted and would come to life to defend the house. And then there were the paintings, which were also haunted, moved and spoke like in Harry Potter, and apparently could be real assholes. So they were advised to walk quickly past the paintings and to try to avoid interacting with them. They were also warned about the mirrors, which apparently sometimes “showed upsetting things in your reflection.” But when asked, the Mystery Skulls couldn’t elaborate much on what exactly that meant, because what the mirrors showed varied a lot person-to-person. 

“That shouldn’t be an issue though,” Lewis explained. “It’s usually just the free-standing mirrors that do that, but those were all covered up.” 

His use of the word ‘usually’ did not put anyone’s minds at ease. 

“Apart from that, we get your usual run-of-the-mill haunted house activity. Moving objects, doors opening and closing, the occasional spirit orb. The usual.” Vivi shrugged.

“‘The usual’, she says.” Ricky said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. 

“No kidding,” Scooby agreed behind him.

“But like, what about the ghost from this morning?” Shaggy asked. 

The other five guests stopped, looked at Shaggy, and asked in unison: “What ghost from this morning?”

Lewis looked alarmed. “He’s- around,” He said quickly. “And he is… the most powerful spirit under our domain. But he cares about us, and he won’t hurt anyone. He prefers to keep hidden, at least for now. He’ll show himself when he’s ready. And he uh- he wanted me to tell you Shaggy, that he’s sorry for how he acted this morning. He was worried about Arthur, and sometimes his temper gets the better of him.” Lewis said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’m sorry - time out. How exactly ‘did he act this morning’?” Velma demanded. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“Alright then, if we’re going to take on Professor Pericles, then what’s the plan?” Marcie asked, scratching the head of the Dead Beat that was hovering in the air beside her. 

“Ever-changing,” Arthur replied from his seat in Mr. E’s armchair. “There’s a lot that Ricky didn’t know, so phase one of the plan - which I hope to have done by the end of the day - is mainly reconnaissance, testing the waters… and setting the stage.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Marcie asked. 

“As of right now,” Arthur said, “Pericles and the others see Ricky as a doormat. They’re convinced they’ve got him all figured out and aren’t bothering to tread lightly with him or to give him a single ounce of basic respect or privacy. Ah - speaking of: Dead Beats, I have a job for you.” 

The three ghosts went rigid at attention. 

“I need one of you to haunt the spaces around these rooms to give us advance warning if someone is coming. Even when we need to leave these rooms to do other things, I still need one of you to be here at all times unless I say otherwise in case someone tries to sneak in and snoop or install monitoring equipment. Can you do that for me?” 

The little ghosts made an affirming chirp, bickered amongst themselves for a few moments, then one of them sped off to do as Arthur had said. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t think to do that earlier. It would be astronomically bad if one of them overheard or even knew I was talking to you. As for you Marcie, there are several things I need from you. First and foremost is a laptop. One that isn’t being monitored by Destroido or by Professor Pericles that we can use to hack into the system.” 

“I don’t have one.” Marcie immediately lied. 

‘Arthur’ inhaled sharply through his teeth, steepled his palms together, then pointed them at her. “Marcie, let’s be real: that’s bullshit. You’ve betrayed Mr. E twice and were most likely already planning to do it again. There’s no way you don’t have a device at the ready. Or at the very least, that you don’t know how to make a computer that way. Ricky has been prohibited from using the internet and all of his activity within Destroido’s own systems is being monitored. Even sending you that message was a calculated risk. I literally cannot do anything if you can’t or won’t get me a device.

“But at the same time, I understand why you’re holding out on me. You still aren’t fully convinced that I’m not Mr. E, that this isn’t some kind of trick, or that the torture-button even exists. And if this hypothetically was a trick and you exposed just how prepared you were to betray Mr. E, the consequences would be really bad for you. So… I guess I’m going to have to prove it.” He groaned. 

The Dead Beats warbled with concern. 

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be fine. This was already part of the plan, anyway. Looks like it’s just going to happen sooner than I thought.” 

“What are you going to do?” Marcie asked. 

“Hit several metaphorical birds with one stone,” Arthur replied. “How quickly can you get your stealth suit? The one that makes you invisible and allows you to climb walls and stuff? Ricky told me about it.” 

“I can’t,” Marcie said. “I know where it is, but Mr. E put it in a password-protected safe.” 

“Iscariot.” Arthur said. 

“Huh?” 

“I-5-C-A-R-1-0-T. Iscariot, but with a couple of letters switched for numbers - that’s the passcode. It’s a reference to the traitorous disciple, Judas Iscariot. Ironically, according to Ricky, Professor Pericles came up with it. He figured none of you would ever guess that the passcode came from Christian Lore, given that none of you are religious and Professor Pericles is evil as hell.”

“Oh, wow. That is ironic.” 

“Very. Especially when you consider that it was Pericles who was the Judas of their group. So, knowing the passcode - assuming that is the passcode - how quickly do you think you can get it?” 

“From here? If I use the vents it’ll take me like two hours there and back to get it without anyone or any of the cameras catching me.” 

“And if you have a small, invisible friend looking around corners and messing with security cameras as you pass?” He asked, pointing at the Dead Beats. 

“That- … would cut that time in half.” 

“Great. Then… it’s about 1:00 now, and taking into account what I need to do… hold on, let me think… at 4:00, I want you in your stealth suit, hiding in the rafters above the hallway where the Dead Beats picked you up - where you have that camera hidden for Velma.” 

If Marcie had a drink in her mouth, she would have spit it out. “So you do know about that!” She cried. “I knew you asking for me in that hallway wasn’t a coincidence! But how?” 

“Shaggy told us about it,” Arthur said. “I needed anything and everything I could use, Ricky was giving me all this info, and Shaggy wanted to help too.”

“Uh-huh… and what do you want me to do once I’m there, exactly?” 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“Jeepers, Shaggy. That must have been scary.” Daphne exclaimed after Shaggy finished telling them about when he’d woken up in Arthur’s body.

“Like yeah, it was,” Shaggy said. “But like, that was pretty much the only scary part. The Mystery Skulls were super nice to me after they realized what had happened. And I didn’t see any more ghosts until I met the Dead Beats with you guys. So like, I’m all good.”

“That’s no excuse!” Velma exclaimed angrily, rounding on the Mystery Skulls. “Don’t you think you ought to have better control over your ghost?” 

“Oh, we don’t control that one. It’s his responsibility to control his damn self," Vivi said dryly, giving Lewis the side-eye. “But, we can’t fault him this time. He thought he was talking to an evil spirit and that Arthur was in danger.”

“He gets um… pretty defensive and aggressive when it comes to Arthur,” Lewis explained. 

They concluded their tour without further incident, and once they reached the end Lewis informed them, “The only place that’s strictly off-limits is the basement.” 

“And Lewis is going to tell you why that is,” Mystery said pointedly, “because you’re a bunch of meddling kids and your first instinct will probably be to go looking for the basement if we don’t tell you why you should avoid it.” 

There was a beat of stunned silence. 

“That’s- he’s… out of line, but he’s right.” Fred admitted. 

“It’s about the spirit we were talking about earlier.” Lewis explained. “The basement is the paranormal center of the house, and it’s also where he lives. There’s a lot of energy down there that I don’t want you guys around, and neither would he. So… please don’t go down there.” 

“There’s also a section of the library you shouldn’t look at unless one of us is with you, because the tomes are magical and/or cursed.” Vivi added, “We’ll show you where it is when we go into the library later. And obviously, use your common decency and don’t go into anyone else’s bedroom without permission.”

“Speaking of: we figured we’d save where you’d be staying for last.” Mystery said.

The Mystery Skulls’ rooms were all in the West Wing of the mansion. They set up their guests in the set of guest bedrooms in the East Wing and let them pick their own rooms - save the one closest to the connecting hallway, which apparently was already taken by their informant. 

Fred and Daphne naturally took the largest bedroom at the end of the hall. And wanting to stay close together, the others took the rooms closest to theirs. It made Ricky smile bittersweetly at the sound of Shaggy and Scooby romping like a couple of youthful idiots into their room. Velma, shaking her head, took the one across from theirs. Leaving Ricky (who just stood back and let the others pick first) with the last room, which was adjacent to the room that was already taken. 

Which was fine with him; the rooms were all about the same. Peeling mauve wallpaper with a Victorian-style heart pattern, the same redwood paneling as the rest of the house, their own stone fireplaces, and their own bathrooms. The furniture was a similar redwood, with skulls and broken hearts worked into the designs. And the beds were… unique. 

“Hey, the bed is coffin-shaped! This place is awesome!” Everyone heard Fred exclaim excitedly. And when the others walked into their own rooms, they found that theirs were the same: irregular six-sided kings with black sheets and comforters, very tall headboards, and tattered raspberry-colored bed hangings that matched the carpets and curtains. It was macabre, but it fit the spooky vibe of the rest of the house perfectly. Ricky’s space back home was kind of dark, but this was dark in a different way - and Ricky kind of liked it.

Ricky let himself fall back on the black plush mattress with a sigh. What and where even was “home” anymore? He’d lived at Destroido for years. But try as he might, he couldn’t muster much attachment to the place. He was proud of his company and what he’d accomplished, but at the end of the day it was just a building that gave him a roof over his head and made him money. His personal space wasn’t a place he ‘looked forward’ to retiring to, and apart from his keytar there wasn’t really anything waiting for him there. What had ever really made it “home”? 

He had no idea which of his relatives were still alive or if they’d even want to see him if he came out as not-dead. He’d renounced Pericles and the others (though they were still oblivious to what extent). And Cassidy was-

… Cassidy was gone. She was gone, and she was never coming back. 

And it’s all your fault. You killed her. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

He’d said such awful things to her the last time he’d seen her. 

“Ah, yes. The naive Cassidy I once fell in love with.” He remembered his own mocking tone so clearly. Cynical, bitter bastard. No matter how much it hurt or how frustrated you were, why would you take that out on her? ‘Once’ my ASS. As if you could stop loving her! 

He knew all too well what he’d done to drive Cassidy away, so of course he knew they hadn’t been close for a while by the time she… 

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel her loss stabbing at his chest, clawing his heart out - as if he’d lost the only thing he had left. 

He was at least being treated well by the Mystery Skulls and the kids, but how long would that last? They wouldn’t need him around anymore once the body-swap was fixed, this mystery was solved, and his former friends and the entity were dealt with. And he couldn’t see why they would want him around after that either. Or rather, why would anyone? If he was being honest with himself, with Cassidy dead and him finally breaking away from the rest of the original Mystery Inc., he… he really didn’t belong anywhere, anymore. 

It wasn’t safe and he hated it there. But… maybe now the only place left for him was as a shoulder for Pericles to perch upon.

Or better yet: maybe the world was better off without him in it.

No. Absolutely not. No way. Where the hell did all of that even come from? He asked himself, running his hands over his face. Going back to Pericles? Dying? Did you hear nothing your better half said? That’s ridiculous! 

‘I don’t think you realize just how bright our future could be.’ That’s what his better half had told him. But Ricky just couldn’t see how that could be.

I don’t want to think about this anymore. And I have more important things to think about anyway. Back in the box you go. 

Holy fuck, this had been a long day. And given that it was just a little past noon, it was far from being over. Shit, was it seriously only 2:00? He swore it felt like this day had just dragged on for weeks. He was exhausted. 

But he couldn’t fall asleep. Nope. And just to make sure of it, he sat up. Arthur was working his ass off and probably doing some pretty stupid and dangerous shit on his behalf right now, and the least Ricky could do was return the favor. 

Right at that ideal moment, there came a knocking at his chamber door. 

“Come in,” he called. 

Vivi opened the door and poked her head in. “Hey, Mystery- sorry. Mister. E. Is the room okay? If it’s awkward for you to be staying this close to the kids, we could move you elsewhere if you want.” 

“It’s fine.” Shit, that came out snappy. And after she’s been nothing but nice to you! At least pretend not to be an asshole! “But- thank you for asking. This is… nice.” He added quickly and in a better tone. It really was a nice room. Spooky, yes. Macabre, definitely. But he supposed that if he was going to stay in a haunted house, he might as well go all-in.

“I’m glad you like it. Do you have any requests?” Vivi asked. “Lewis is thinking about dinner, and Fred and Daphne were going to make a groceries-slash-clothes-slash-essentials run. Like, are you vegetarian? Pescetarian? Allergic to anything or- oh. Right. You’re in Shaggy’s body. So I guess I should be asking him.” 

“I’m not vegetarian. And I sincerely doubt that boy is allergic to anything.” 

Vivi snorted. “True.” 

“I suppose… Apart from clothes, I just need a toothbrush and toothpaste? And 2-in-one? I don’t care what brand,” He shrugged. 

“Got it. I’m pretty sure Mystery Inc. is planning on picking up clothes from Shaggy’s house for you while they’re out. Will that be fine?” 

Ricky nodded. 

“Cool. And dinner? Lewis was thinking of doing enchiladas.” 

“Enchiladas are fine. I’m not going to request anything. I’m just grateful to have someone willing to cook for me. It’s… been a while. Would Lewis like any help when he starts in the kitchen?” 

“Probably not, but I’ll let him know you offered. He feels really bad, by the way - for what he said earlier. He’ll probably apologize later.” 

Ricky cocked an eyebrow. “What did he-?”

“Back at the hilltop, when he was freaking out about Arthur.” 

Ah, right. He remembered, now. “It’s fine, really. He was scared for his friend. Arthur is lucky to have friends like you.” 

“One’s own emotions are an explanation for one’s shitty behavior, not an excuse,” Vivi said, hands on her hips. “Lew knows that. So just don’t be surprised if he brings it up.” 

Ricky didn’t have time to formulate a response to that statement, because that was when his stomach growled. “You have got to be kidding me. Breakfast was fucking huge. How are you this hungry already?” He scolded his own stomach. Ricky was no stranger to overeating. He’d gone through a difficult phase where food had become a coping mechanism and his real body had never lost the weight. But this was ridiculous! 

Vivi giggled. “Apparently it takes a truckload to keep that body satisfied.”

“Shaggy had better be glad that he was born to well-off parents, because if they couldn’t afford to feed him then I don’t know what would have happened to him.” Ricky said, shaking his head.

“Well come on, let’s get you something to eat. Then you, Shaggy, Scooby, Mystery, and I will get started in our library while Fred and Daphne are out for essentials and Lewis and Velma are out collecting materials from the library and haunted museum.”

“Anything I can do to help,” he agreed. Then he followed her out the door. 

Maybe he wasn’t one of them. Maybe things would get awkward and they wouldn’t want him around anymore once he was no longer needed. But for Arthur’s sake, he wouldn’t dwell on that. 

And for his own sake, maybe he could keep pretending for just a while longer. 

But of course, there just couldn’t be a dull moment. Because that’s when Scooby came running out of the room he shared with Shaggy. 

“Vivi! Vivi HELP! Raggy needs help!” 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“What hole do you think Ricky’s gone and hid in this time, Brad?” Judy asked, ducking her head into yet another Ricky-free Destroido lab space. 

“I’m not sure, Judy. We’ve checked all the labs. If he was doing his rounds, we should have run into him by now.”  

“Then he must not be doing his rounds, Brad. Perhaps he’s in the garage working on the old relic he’s so attached to again.”

“I bet you’re right, Judy!” 

But even after Brad and Judy sauntered all the way to Mr. E’s personal closed-off garage, there was no sign of Ricky to be had there. 

Honestly, where else could he have gone? They had to ask themselves at this point. Ricky was usually nowhere near this difficult to find. 

Brad snorted. 

“What’s so funny, Brad?” Judy giggled. 

“Oh, I was just wondering how it’s possible for someone that fat to hide this well.” 

Judy laughed. “It is impressive, isn’t it Brad? 

Still though, in the back of their minds, they couldn’t help but be a little bit concerned. Hunting for him like this was usually almost as fun as their games with him that followed, but at this point it was getting frustrating. The one place they hadn’t checked was the dungeon Ricky called “home”, but they hadn’t been there since they’d helped Professor Pericles sneak sleeping powder into his dinner, then inject that capsule into his back. And Ricky didn't spend a lot of time there, anyway. It would certainly be unusual for him to be there at this time of day. But then again… he’d been acting differently ever since Professor Pericles came clean about Cassidy.

“You know Brad,” Judy mused, “Ricky was rather brazen this morning. You don’t think he tried to run for it, do you?” 

“I don’t think so, Judy. He knows that would happen if Pericles found out, and he knows he’s too weak to withstand it.” 

“That’s true, Brad. He has always been a coward.”

“Ding-dong Daddy-o. Do we have to go in there?” Brad whined.

Judy laughed. Brad’s impression was right-on. Classic Ricky. 

“Y-you guys, I don’t want to do this anymore. Let’s just go home!” Judy tried out her own imitation, and Brad laughed at it before doing another of his own. 

“Professor Pericles, come back! Professor Pericles, I’m scared. Shouldn’t we just leave this to the Smokies?” 

“I’m going to cower behind Cassidy even though she’s half my size. Ahh! A monster! Now I’m going to jump into Cassidy’s arms even though she’s so small it’s a miracle she can hold me up at all!” 

“You keep her name out of your thin fucking mouth, Judy.” 

The two of them had been so caught up in their mockery they hadn’t noticed the very subject of it lurking in a doorway until they were face-to-face with him. 

“Ricky! So there you are.” Judy said quickly. Her mouth was not thin. Who did this fat twerp think he was?

“Yeah. We were just looking for you,” Brad said menacingly. How dare that ugly bastard insult his Judy? 

Usually, this would be the part where Ricky backed off or tried to make some excuse to leave. 

But he didn’t do either of those things.

Ricky just leaned against the wall, giving Brad and Judy a look that was equal parts blank and judgemental, before he took a swig of the entire bottle of wine he was carrying and went right back to regarding them. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t cower. Didn’t puff up, either. He just… stood there.

Something was wrong with this picture. 

Mr. E’s signature scowl wasn’t nearly as hard, and where usually there would be fire behind his anger, all Brad and Judy saw was this… coldness. It was like a part of the soul within that disgusting body was gone, and something sad and empty was all that remained. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything, Ricky?” Judy demanded after a few seconds of unbearable silence.

“That’s Mr. E to you,” Ricky corrected quietly. “Only my friends called me Ricky. As to whether I’m going to say anything, I really dunno. What do you want me to say, Judy?” 

And Judy- didn’t have a retort for that. But she was such a lucky girl, Brad came to her rescue. 

“Where have you been all day, Ricky?” He demanded. 

“Hmm. Not sure, to be honest. I lost time for a bit. Then I played my keytar for a while. Cassidy liked my keytar - music in general, really. Found this new band recently. I think she would’ve liked them too. But I can’t tell her about it. I can’t tell her any of the things I want to tell her. Because she’s gone - far away from me, probably in a better place than Crystal Cove. Where I’ll never see her again.” Then he laughed half-heartedly, “Classic Cassidy. She always moved on to new things before I did. I never could let go of the past, but her? Hah! She was dynamite. Always blasting forward. Why should death be any different?” 

“Are you fucking drunk?” Brad demanded. 

“I wish,” Ricky said. “But my tolerance is too high for this to do much to me. I considered something stronger, but she deserves better than that. Someone has to feel this pain for her. Because you seem to have forgotten, but thanks to Pericles she didn’t have any family - none of us do. She just had us, and those kids. And you two sure as fuck aren’t shedding any tears for her. Just like no one’s going to shed any tears for us when we die.” 

“Cassidy? That’s what this is about?” Judy scoffed. But Ricky wasn’t even looking at her. He was taking another long drink, his other hand in his pocket, weight casually favoring one hip. “She has no one to blame for what happened to her but herself, just like you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself for where you are.” Ricky finished his swig and looked at the label on the front of the bottle -  not at Judy. Why wasn’t he looking at Judy?! “You’re fools, the both of you. And that bitch-” 

Whatever vile thing Judy was about to say next died on her tongue. Because that was when Ricky suddenly overturned the bottle of red wine over Judy’s head, and the entirety of its contents poured down upon her. Soaking her blonde hair red, running down her face, then soaking into her blouse and dying her white pants. 

Brad and Judy were so utterly stunned that they froze, neither moving nor speaking. Their brains simply not computing what Ricky had just done. 

Ricky shook the bottle lightly to get the last drops out, which pitter pattered onto the top of Judy’s head. Before he finally took the bottle back, read the label one last time, and then chucked it at the wall. It shattered with a loud CRASH that made both Brad and Judy jump. But they were still too shocked to retaliate. 

That same shocked silence hung heavily in the air for another few moments. During which time Ricky scratched the back of his head, momentarily inspected his fingernails, then finally looked at Judy, his eyes scanning her wine-soaked, shaking form. An eyebrow cocked, and his lips pursed. “This is a good look for you.”

That was all it took to snap Brad out of it. 

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!” He thundered!

Brad surged forward out to grab Ricky by his collar but Ricky just expressionlessly snatched one of Brad’s fingers mid-grab and twisted it back at an awkward angle as far as it would go. “Don’t fucking touch me Chiles,” he said plainly. 

Brad cried out with pain and had no choice but to yield immediately, bending his knees and twisting his whole body awkwardly to lessen the stress on the digit. 

Judy just stood there. Cold. Wet. Red. Shaking, twitching. 

“What. Are you… doing?” Brad ground out. 

“Letting the intrusive thoughts win I guess,” Ricky shrugged. “I’m kind of fucking tired of you two treating me like your own personal litterbox to shit on, and I seem to have lost the will to care about the consequences. My heart’s being torn apart. I think my soul might be dead. It’s agony. But holy shit, do I feel fucking free.” 

“Just you wait! Professor Perciles is going to hear about this and- Aah!” Ricky twisted the finger in his grip back further. 

“Go ahead,” he said flippantly, “tell Pericles. I won’t be hiding. In fact, by the time he comes after me I’ll probably be existing somewhere in the hallways outside of Central Lab H. That seems like a good direction to wander. Then you all can torture me. Drag me into Hell with you. Destroy everything I’ve built. Disgrace my name. Use my resources to tear this town apart. We aren’t going to survive this mystery, and I’m glad! The last fuck I had to give died with her.” 

Ricky finally let go, and Brad jerked his hand back, cradling it. His jaw was locked, and he was so angry. But that face- those eyes. They were so fucking dead that Brad knew in that instant that nothing he could say or do, no matter how personal or vile, would pierce through to whatever heart was left. 

But Professor Pericles would. 

With a snarl, Brad turned sharply and stormed down the hallway, ushering Judy along with him. 

And Arthur Kingsmen watched them go. 

He didn’t dare let out his sigh of relief until after they turned down the next hallway and vanished. 

Wow. Had that been him? Had he really done that?! His heart was hammering the whole time, and he’d never stopped feeling the urge to run, but he hadn’t! He felt like he could climb Everest right now! He was on top of the fucking world!

But the job’s not over yet. 

And the consequences of those actions were coming. 

Arthur wasn’t looking forward to them, and he wasn’t sure if he could keep up that act through the pain. But he could sure as hell try. And even if he failed, he’d still have the evidence he needed. 

Poor Brad and Judy, Arthur almost felt sorry for them. They were supposed to be the ultimates in their craft, but how the mighty had fallen. They were so warped by the curse, absorbed in their hunt for the treasure, in each other, and in their own wickedness, that they failed to recognize what they were really headed into: a trap. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Owwwwwww. Ow ow ow ow OW.

Shaggy had felt the first twinges on the ride to the mansion in the Mystery Machine. But everyone had been talking so nicely with Mr. E, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it at that time anyway, so he hadn’t wanted to worry anyone. 

Then they got in the mansion, they got to meet ghosts, Lewis, Vivi, and the Dead Beats gave them that nice song, they got to tour a haunted house, and Shaggy had been so busy taking it all in that he didn’t notice the twinges getting worse. 

And worse. 

At first when he’d noticed them again, he’d tried to ignore them a little longer because he didn’t want Scoob to worry. 

But he ignored it for too long.

And now it hurt so much he could hardly focus on anything else. 

Like, holy cow. No wonder Arthur felt like he could handle whatever Mr. E was dealing with. He’d been tolerating this for how long? And making it appear like he was perfectly fine to boot? 

Shaggy shut his eyes tight where he was curled up on the black comforter, clutching his shoulder where flesh met metal. It was so weird. It wasn’t just the shoulder that hurt, it was as if the whole side and that whole arm hurt. Only that didn’t make any sense, because the arm wasn’t there. 

That was when Scooby came bounding back into the room, followed closely by Vivi and Mr. E in Shaggy’s body. 

Oh, Shaggy’s body! His skinny, intact, scruffy body! How he’d taken it for granted. He really, really missed it. He didn’t want to be Arthur anymore. He wanted to be Shaggy again, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this! 

“What’s wrong?- Oh no,” Vivi said, and Shaggy could tell from the look on her face that she’d immediately put together what was wrong.

“Arthur’s pain medication!” Mr. E cried, smacking himself on the forehead. “I’m so sorry, Shaggy! We got so caught up in the other stuff that I completely forgot!” 

“L-like don’t beat yourself up about it man,” Shaggy tried not to groan, “l-like, I’m the one who ignored it too long. We both forgot.” 

“What about Arthur’s pain medication?” Vivi demanded.

“His dosage needs to be adjusted,” Mr. E explained. “Arthur warned us that it hasn’t been working right for a while. Fuck- I was so caught up in everything else, it didn’t even cross my mind!” 

Vivi cried out in frustration and spun around to the doorway, where a couple of Dead Beats were looking in with concern. “You - go get Arthur’s meds. You - go get Lewis. Now. Hurry!” 

As the Dead Beats rushed off to do as she’d asked, Vivi calmly sat down on the edge of Shaggy’s bed. “I’m going to help you take Arthur’s arm off. Removing the extra weight should help the pain a bit. Then just stay on your side.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Mr. E asked, “I could get you something or…?” 

“There’s not much that can be done besides prescription meds. Just- go find Shaggy’s friends. They shouldn’t have left yet.” 

“No! No. Like- uugh… I don’t want to worry them.” Shaggy said. “And like, they’ve got more important stuff to do-” 

Vivi flicked him hard on the nose.

“They’re your friends and they love you. I don’t know your group, but I know that when Arthur’s in pain, nothing is more important to me. Especially not a mystery. And I imagine that your friends feel the same way about you.” 

“Reah, Shaggy. Fred, Daphne, and Velma will be sad if you don’t tell them.” Scooby agreed. “If one of us was hurting like this, wouldn’t you want to know?”

Oh. Shaggy hadn’t thought of it that way before. 

“Oh. Like um… okay then.” 

With a nod, Mr. E swiftly left the room to find the others. Right as he was leaving, Lewis came rushing in with a couple of Dead Beats. 

“They said something about Arthur’s arm. What happened?” 

“Stupid Arthur,” Vivi snapped as the metal arm came off with a click, “didn’t bother mentioning that his pain medication wasn’t working anymore. And now Shaggy’s dealing with the consequences.” 

“Oh, Arthur…” Lewis pinched his temples. “Shaggy, be glad you’re not Arthur. Because when we get him back, I’m gonna kill him. What now, Vivi?” 

Just then, the other Dead Beat returned with Arthur’s medicine in two bottles. Vivi took them from it and set one on the nightstand, and kept the other in her hand.

“Go call Dr. Madrigal,” Vivi told Lewis. “We can give him more of this as needed, but we can’t give him more of the strong stuff willy-nilly, and we need to know by how much to adjust his dosage for the future.”

“L-like… how long will that ta-a-aaake??? Owww!” Shaggy whimpered. It was throbbing, now. There was like a couple moments of relief when Vivi took the arm off, but now it hurt even more. Shaggy could feel it with every beat of his heart.

“I’m so sorry, Shaggy. I know it hurts, dude. But hey-”

And Lewis started doing a little dance, singing, 

“You got to keep on livin’, 

Livin’ for the good life, 

Holdin’ on, holdin’ on, holdin’ on- 

“You know what? Sorry. I think I made it weird. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” 

“L-like it’s okay, man. You were just trying to cheer me up.” Shaggy half-laughed.

“If it’s any consolation, It’s not usually this bad,” Lewis grimaced. 

“It’s worse for Shaggy because he’s not used to it,” Vivi said gently. She put the other bottle between her legs so it wouldn’t roll off the bed, placed her hands on Shaggy/Arthur’s stump and started to massage it and the shoulder around it with practiced ease. “That, and Shaggy hasn’t done any of the mirror therapy Arthur has, so it’s possible that it’s been rendered null and void. And today’s been really stressful - which can make ghost pains worse.” 

“G-g-ghost pains?” Scooby cried, shaking. 

“Don’t worry, Scooby. It’s not that kind of ghost.” Vivi explained. “Lew-lew, get one of the Dead Beats to bring us a bottle of water. Shaggy needs something to swallow his pills with.” Lewis nodded and left, and Vivi went back to talking to Scooby. “Basically Scooby, Shaggy’s body- or rather, Arthur’s body, is supposed to have two arms. So Arthur’s brain is confused as to why it doesn’t. So even though it’s not there, to Arthur - and therefore to Shaggy now - it still sometimes feels like it is. Sometimes it feels like when one of your limbs falls asleep. And other times it can hurt a lot more. The pain is real, and it feels like it’s happening in the missing body part, even though it’s not there. That’s why people call them ‘ghost pains’. It’s very normal for amputees like Arthur to have them - lots of them do.”

Just then the rest of Mystery Incorporated came rushing into the room with Mr. E not far behind, totally out of breath. It suddenly occurred to Shaggy that they were quite a distance from the front entrance of the house, and he’d probably run all the way there and back just to make sure he caught Shaggy’s friends before they left. 

“Shaggy!” Fred, Daphne, and Velma cried as they rushed to his side.

“L-like, hey guys,” Shaggy groaned, smiling. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” Fred asked. 

“Like, I’ve got ghost pains,” Shaggy laughed half-heartedly. “But like, not the kind of ghost I can run away from.” 

“It didn’t even occur to me that Arthur might experience those, or that Shaggy would have to deal with them. I’m so sorry Shaggy,” Velma said, gently taking his hand in hers. 

“It’s not just ghost pains either,” Vivi sighed. 

“There’s something else?” Daphne exclaimed. 

Vivi sighed. “Arthur has another condition that many amputees have called heterotopic ossification.” 

“I know what that is,” Velma said. “Bone starts growing where it shouldn’t be. A lot of people get it after a major surgery or major injury.”

“That’s about it,” Vivi said. “It manifests as a bony, often painful lump under the skin. In Arthur’s case, he’s pretty lucky. His isn’t located on or near a joint, so it doesn’t restrict his mobility. And it’s pretty small - only about the size of a grape - and doesn’t show any sign of getting bigger. But it does bother Arthur every now and then. He could get it surgically removed, but because it’s at the site of his amputation and Arthur’s arm port is connected directly to his body and nervous system, it would take the greatest surgeon in the world to not ruin it.”

I can afford the greatest surgeon in the world, it suddenly occurred to Ricky. If they all survived this, then Ricky saw no reason why Arthur should have to keep living with an extra hunk of bone in his arm. If it was causing him pain and he simply couldn’t afford to have it safely removed, then what were rich friends for? 

… Huh. How long had he thought of Arthur as a friend? They’d met literally this morning, and one could even argue that didn’t count, considering it was via astral projection. No, it didn’t make sense for him to jump to calling Arthur a friend. Arthur just… pitied him. And understood him. And for some reason saw fit to treat him with more kindness than he deserved. 

Yeah - he’d help Arthur out. But it would just be him… repaying Arthur’s kindness. Especially considering that Arthur was probably putting himself through a lot of pain on Ricky’s behalf. 

… But it made Ricky absolutely sick to think about that. 

Another hiss of pain from Shaggy broke him out of his thoughts. Ricky suddenly felt very useless, and very guilty. Why? Why should Arthur and Shaggy be the ones hurting? If they were going to get body-swapped, then why hadn’t Ricky simply switched one pain for another? Why did he, the one who deserved it the least, get to be the healthy one?

Just then, a pair of Dead Beats entered the room and zoomed above Ricky’s head - one of them carrying a bottle of water in its mouth. Mystery (looking oddly guilty) followed close behind, passing by Ricky’s feet. “Any word? Did Lewis get through to Dr. Madrigal?” Vivi asked, taking the water bottle and uncapping it for Shaggy. 

The Dead Beats shook their heads and did a short duet that was undoubtedly an annoying imitation of hold music.

“Ah. He’s on hold. It’s a doctor’s office, so I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.” Vivi said, handing the water to Shaggy and unscrewing the medicine bottle. She handed Shaggy two pills, and he obediently swallowed them with a mouthful of water before putting the water bottle on the nightstand and laying back down. “Scooby,” Vivi said, re-capping the bottle, “can you run down to the kitchen and get Shaggy a snack? He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and if he doesn’t put something in his stomach, then he’ll get really queasy and it’ll take longer for the medicine to kick in. There should be crackers in the pantry and cheese sticks in the fridge.” 

“Roh-kay!” The dog said. And he obediently hopped off the bed and trotted out of the room. 

“Remember to get him a normal-sized snack, Scoob! Arthur’s body doesn’t eat as much as Shaggy’s does!” Fred called after him. 

Shit, all this talk of food was reminding Ricky how hungry he was. Don’t you fucking dare growl right now, he thought at his stomach. 

“So like, what now?” Shaggy groaned. 

“Scooby’s going to bring you something to eat, and then you’re going to take a nap, okay?” Vivi said. 

She reached out to ruffle his hair, but stopped herself. That’s not Artie, she reminded herself. He looks and sounds like him, but he’s not. Remember, Vivi. He might not like you doing that.  

Fuck, she missed Arthur. 

“You’ll- you’ll feel a lot better after you rest a while and give the meds time to kick in.” Vivi said, taking her hand back and hiding her sadness behind a smile. 

“But like- you need help in the library…” 

“And you will help us. After you rest. Don’t worry. I’ve got Mystery and Mystery- pffft. Mystery and Mister. E. to help me with that.” Vivi corrected herself with a laugh. 

“And what should we do?” Fred asked. 

“Just go, guys. You’ve got important stuff to do and like, I’m alright. The meds’ll kick in,” Shaggy said.

“If you’re sure, Shaggy…” Daphne said apprehensively.

“Really guys. I’m fine. Like, I’ve got Scoob.” 

“Okay then. I really hope you feel better soon Shaggy,” Velma said. She affectionately ran her hand over his hair and bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. 

“Aw, Velms…” 

As the other members of Mystery Inc. took turns fussing over Shaggy and bidding him goodbye, Ricky stood back in the doorway, and his heart screamed. 

Because he’d realized something. 

He had failed. Again. Their parents didn’t care enough, and Cassidy was gone. So that just left him to have the backs of the new Mystery Inc. 

He had no family. He had no friends. His company didn’t matter. With Cassidy gone, he had exactly one thing left in this world left for him to care about. One thing that he still had the opportunity to do right. And that was these kids. 

Velma, Shaggy, Fred, Daphne, and Scooby. And maybe Arthur, Vivi, Lewis, and Mystery too.

Ricky cared about those meddling kids. 

Cassidy had loved those meddling kids. 

In a big way, they were all that was left of her. They were her legacy. And they could be his, too. 

He couldn’t die. Not even when he got his own ugly, expendable body back. 

Even if he had no way of seeing what good times could possibly lie ahead for him, he had to keep on living. Not for himself. Not for Pericles. Not even for her - because what good would holding on for the dead do? He had to keep on living for them. They would not fall apart like him and his friends had. They would grow up, and they would grow old. And they would be happy. And if Professor Pericles wanted to destroy them, then he’d have to destroy Ricky, first. 

And if it came to that, then Ricky would be damned if he wasn’t going to take the bird down with him.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Vivi slip past him. 

Shaggy was taken care of, and with everyone else distracted, this was Vivi’s chance to sneak off and make a call. It hadn’t occurred to her to do it when she and Lewis were in the van earlier, so she had to make that call now. Vivi made her way to the West Wing and went into her room, locking her door behind her so she wouldn’t be overheard. She moved Boku the turtle plushie aside and sat down on her blue bedspread. Then she pulled out her cellphone, and dialed. 

It rang for a few moments, then the person on the other end of the line picked up.  “Hey, Uncle Lance! It’s Vivi- oh! Cassidy! Hi! Just who I wanted to talk to! Yeah - it’s time. We need you to come back to Crystal Cove. Like, now… Yeah! We've finally teamed up with the kids. They’re great! Also, Arthur’s once again wound up in a crazy, supernatural-related mess, and Ricky’s in trouble-... Yeah, he’s not hurt. And he’s safe now. Sort of. He’s with us, and we’re taking care of him, don’t worry… Yeah, he’s definitely not working with Pericles anymore… Yes, we’re sure…. It’s a long, and very crazy story. You’ll have to see it to believe it… No, we haven’t told them you’re alive, and no we haven’t told them about us. But we’re going to tonight. Think you can get here in the morning?”

At LAST! Chapter Eleven is posted!!! And I hope you all liked it! This was definitely a chapter where I gave some of the other characters some attention. It's no secret that Ricky is my favorite character and I love writing him, but this isn't just his story. Speaking of: as sad as it is to see Ricky's negative thoughts coming back, one pep talk is not magically going to make those go away. Even if it was a good pep talk, and it did help. Writing Brad and Judy was... fun, actually. As much as I hate them, there's something satisfying about writing characters that are unabashedly deplorable and pathetic. Especially when they get (at least part of) their comeuppance within the same scene. GOD, I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. Because that jjjust might be my favorite singular scene in the entire fic so far. And of course, sorry Shaggy, I couldn't forget about Arthur's pain. And any amputees who read this: I'm not an expert. I did like two hours of research and then went where the fic took me. So if I got anything horribly inaccurate, then deepest apologies. But HEY - Cassidy's coming out of hiding soon! Woot woot!!! 🎉 Make way for the QUEEN!!! 👑 This is the longest chapter of the story so far, at about 7,600 words or so. I really do try to write shorter chapters or split up longer ones so updates may be more frequent, but this time I just couldn't. Also, I would like everyone to know I just got a new job. On one hand: YAY! MONEY! On the other hand: even though it's only 20 hours a week, it takes up what are usually my most productive hours of the day. AND I have to juggle it with commuting to school. So between job, school, and schoolwork I have to do at home, I'm exhausted and there's hardly any time for writing so... updates will probably take a lot longer now. 😔 So it's only fair that my last chapter unemployed is a long one. I decided to post Chapter Eleven here on Tumblr before on AO3, just because the response on Tumblr has been so good. 😊 I'll post chapter eleven to AO3 tomorrow morning. EDIT: Fuck it. I've got time and my readers on AO3 have been good to me too. I'm posting it there this evening instead.

Chapters One through Ten of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own.

[amphibia-a-day]

Day 497 of Amphibia Screenshots

Episode: The First Temple

[spokewar]

just kinda a duo wielding day

[solomiracle]

revamping my mcs i love my silly billies my cutie patooties my widdle honey bunnies so much (i am actively making their lives worse)

[keeshysterics]

Marcy pissed herself of course but its okay bc the bath she took after helped with her contractions ig

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Four]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: This one switches POVs at the end to Matt's. Hopefully you like the update because I quite enjoyed writing Foggy in this one. You'll see why... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @thychuvaluswife @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex

Chewing another bite of your burger, you were barely focused on the conversation occurring at the table amongst your friends. You had been starving ever since the four of you had met at the restaurant, the smell of grilled food causing you to salivate the moment you’d stepped through the doors. So once the waiter had placed your burger on the table in front of you–the one thing you’d been craving nonstop all day–you’d tuned everything else around you out. Marci had shot you a curious look when you'd first dug into your food, but you’d chosen to ignore that, too.

Initially you’d set up this lunch date with your friends so that you could break the news to Foggy and Marci that you were pregnant. For the past two weeks now Karen had helped you keep your secret, but now that you were eight weeks along and had seen that everything was progressing well at your first ultrasound, you thought it was time to clue the pair of them into things, too. You’d been appreciative of Karen’s support lately, but truthfully being even less alone in everything right now sounded even more comforting and appealing.

As for Matt, you’d admittedly been doing your best to avoid him. He still had no idea about the pregnancy, and truthfully you weren’t quite ready to tell him. Over the past couple of weeks he had been calling you and leaving the occasional voicemail, but you’d ignored him every single time. And since you hadn’t had the heart to hear his voice or whatever it was he had to say for himself, you currently had twelve unopened voicemails from him. 

You knew you needed to tell Matt the news. Every day you told yourself that, and every day it was a constant battle with yourself between ripping the bandaid off and showing up at his apartment to tell him or not. But then you always became emotional at the thought of just seeing Matt again, and you ultimately always came to the conclusion that you just weren’t quite ready to face him, not with this. You also knew that it wasn’t the sort of news you thought you should tell him in a phone call, either. So for now, Matt had no idea you were pregnant with his child. 

“Whoa, slow down there,” Foggy teased from across the table. “Your burger is not going to get up and run away from you if you set it down to breathe for a moment.”

It took a second for you to realize that he was even talking to you, having been too focused on eating your food. Your gaze slowly slid up from your plate, noticing three sets of eyes on you. Thankfully Karen’s expression was more amused and knowing than confused and judging like Foggy and Marci’s across from you. Swallowing down your bite of burger, you lowered it back down towards your plate, sitting up straighter in the booth. You sent the pair of them across from you a sheepish smile, watching as Marci’s hand rose up towards her mouth. 

"You've uh…got some ketchup," she said, gesturing beside her lip. “Right here.”

Reaching over, you grabbed your napkin and dabbed at the glob of ketchup on your face. You could still feel all three sets of eyes on you as you wiped off the ketchup, and one look up from your plate confirmed your suspicions. Eyes darting over towards Karen beside you, you saw her send you a slight nod and a soft, encouraging smile. With a sigh you wiped your hands off on your napkin next, figuring now was as good a time as any during this lunch to break the news to Foggy and Marci. And at least the irritating hunger-nausea that seemed to accompany early pregnancy was temporarily abated with how fast you’d eaten half of your burger.

“Sorry,” you muttered. 

Foggy waved a dismissive hand, shrugging his shoulders as he sent you a smile. “Not a big deal, though I thought you had asked us here because you wanted to talk to us about something.”

“There uh, there actually was a reason,” you agreed, nodding slowly.

Your eyes slid back and forth between Foggy and Marci, your fingers fidgeting nervously with the napkin still in your hands. The pair of them curiously focused on you from across the table, lowering their utensils and giving you their full attention. Biting the inside of your cheek, you contemplated how you were supposed to tell them something so big. How did you lead up to telling someone that you're pregnant? So when you inevitably couldn’t think of anything to gradually broach the topic with, you opted for just spitting it right out.

“I’m pregnant,” you announced. “Just over eight weeks now.”

Marci’s eyes instantly doubled in size at the news, her lips parting in surprise as she gaped at you. Foggy’s jaw literally dropped, his entire body going rigid in the booth. From beside you, you felt Karen place a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving it a brief comforting squeeze.

“Holy shit,” Foggy breathed out.

You shot him another sheepish smile, still fidgeting with the napkin. “Yeah,” you muttered, “that’s about what I said initially, too.”

“So–so is it…Matt’s?” Marci asked slowly, her brows drawing together.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Foggy said, frantically waving his hands in front of himself. “You’re pregnant? Like right now? With Matt’s baby?”

“Yes,” you repeated.

Marci began to run a hand through her blonde hair, her lips pursing together as that furrow between her brows grew while she tried to process the information. Foggy was still sitting in the booth beside her and staring at you in utter disbelief. After a minute of that incredulous expression on his face, you quirked a brow at him, no longer able to stand the silence that had fallen over the table.

“What?” you asked him.

“It’s just–” he began, grimacing before shaking his head. “Matt doesn’t know, does he? That you’re pregnant? Because you two aren’t together but you’re carrying his child. And I don’t think he’d be acting the way he is if he knew.”

“Yeah, well,” you began bitterly, picking up your glass of water and bringing it to your lips for a drink, “that’s Matt’s fault.”

“So you’re just not going to tell him?” Foggy asked in shock, his brows shooting up onto his forehead. “You can’t possibly do that to him. You wouldn’t .”

“I am going to tell him,” you said, setting your glass back onto the table. “I tried to tell him that I was pregnant the night we broke up. But he wouldn’t stay to talk to me. Said he needed to go deal with the Russians. Again . He’s the one who told me to leave that night. Told me I could tell him whatever it was I needed to when he got back or that I could go." You winced, eyes dropping down towards your half-finished burger. “He left me alone that night–left us alone. So forgive me for not rushing to tell him the news a second time,” you snapped. “Because I don’t think I should have come last that night on his list of priorities, so right now he's not exactly at the top of mine.” 

“If he knew the truth there’s no way Matt would’ve walked out on you like that,” Foggy told you earnestly. “There’s no way. He’d have stayed, I promise you that.”

Your eyes flew up from the table, landing back on Foggy across from you. There was an almost pleading look on his face as he sat there across from you. But as you opened your mouth to respond, you could feel that familiar rush of anger unfurling inside of you as you remembered that night.

“I practically begged him to stay and talk to me, Fog,” you growled, one arm possessively wrapping around your abdomen. “I was crying and begging him to stay and he left . That’s on Matt, not me.”

“I absolutely agree with you on that,” Foggy replied quickly, nodding his head. “He briefly told me what happened that night and I agree that he fucked up. Big time. But knowing what I do now? I know Matt needs to know the truth. He needs to make things right–”

“There’s no way Matt could make any of this right, Fog,” you cut him off. “And even if there somehow was, do you really think Matt would want to raise a child? With what he does? How obsessive he gets over things? The way he doesn’t even take care of himself?” You shook your head quickly, one arm still possessively wrapped around your belly. “No, that man couldn’t possibly care about being a father. All he cares about is Daredevil and Hell’s Kitchen. He can have a relationship with his child, I won’t stop that, but I’m the one who’ll ultimately be raising this baby.”

“You don’t know that,” Foggy countered, shaking his head as he leaned across the table towards you with that pleading expression only growing more desperate on his face. “You don’t know Matt wouldn’t want to be a father.”

“Actually, Fog,” Marci said, cutting him off, “I think I’m with her on this. From the things I’ve heard about Matt’s hobby from you and Karen, I was honestly shocked he had managed to successfully keep a relationship for as long as he has. But being a father? That’s an even bigger responsibility. I mean, he already has difficulty prioritizing the firm with you and Karen half the time. You really think a baby would be any different?”

“Yes!” Foggy exclaimed, his eyes darting between you and Marci. “Matt has his flaws, sure, I know that. I do,” he continued fervently. “But I know Matt. He wouldn’t walk away from his own child. He wouldn’t .” 

"I'm with Fog on this," Karen said, catching everyone's attention. "I think Matt wouldn't be acting this way if he knew."

Marci’s eyes narrowed at Karen, her head slowly tilting to the side. "You already knew she was pregnant, didn't you?" she asked. "Because you don't seem very surprised right now."

"She showed up at my place shortly after the breakup and I told her," you explained. "I just didn't want to be alone in all of this. I had been waiting until after my ultrasound to break the news to you and Foggy next. I just–just wanted you all to know so I wasn't entirely alone."

Marci’s hand slid across the table towards yours, grabbing onto it. She sent you a warm smile that swiftly quieted the anger you felt towards Matt that had been burning inside of you for weeks now.

"You're not alone in this," she assured you, squeezing your hand. "You've always got us."

"Yeah," Foggy agreed, his face softening when you glanced at him beside her. "Whatever happens with Matt in all of this, you know we're always here for you. Through anything."

Tears began to fill your eyes, your lips trembling at the show of support. Truly you were grateful that everything with Matt had led you to at least meeting all three of them.

"Thanks guys," you whispered. "You don't know what that means to me."

Shutting your apartment door behind yourself, you turned and leaned your back up against it, slipping your aching feet out of your shoes with a deep groan. Head rolling back against the door as you stretched your toes, your eyes took in the sight of your empty apartment. Everything was neat and tidy except for the couch in your living room, which was often where you found yourself cocooned in a soft blanket whenever you were home lately, binging your shows and trying to ignore the hollow, lingering pain in your chest from your persistent heartache. 

The pillows on your couch were a mess, a couple of them stacked together and resting against an armrest that you'd long since claimed as your usual spot. The extra height of them stacked helped with your nasal congestion–another unfortunate perk of pregnancy you’d recently come to learn about. Your plush blanket was still strewn across the cushions looking exactly the same as when you'd crawled out from underneath it earlier to get ready for your lunch date with your friends. Truthfully your couch still looked about as inviting as anything could to you lately.

With a sigh, your right hand absently landed on your belly. Any other normal Sunday in the past you'd have had plans with Matt right now. Grabbing groceries together or maybe getting coffee. Planning out dinner or listening to audiobooks on the couch. Having mind-blowing sex in the bedroom that left you blissed out and pleasantly exhausted afterwards, the pair of you remaining naked in bed just talking and losing track of time for half the day.

But not today. 

Though admittedly it had been awhile since Matt had been able to give you his undivided attention on a weekend. Usually he had been trying to catch up on work or sleep before he went back out again as Daredevil at night. But that didn't stop the sting of his absence that you’d felt over the past few weeks since the breakup.

Eyes dropping down to your abdomen, a faint smile curled your lips upwards. You weren't truly alone though. Not fully. And at least Foggy and Marci knew the truth about your pregnancy now and were completely supportive of you. That's what mattered at the moment. 

"Alright my little devil," you whispered to your small bump affectionately, "what's on the agenda for tonight?"

Lifting the hem of your shirt up with your other hand, you stretched out the spandex band of your maternity pants with a frown. They had become far more comfortable than your actual jeans this past week, especially once those had been near impossible for you to actually button closed. You’d recently bought a few basic maternity items, but the maternity jeans made you feel considerably less attractive with that stretchy band reaching up to almost the bottom of your bra. 

"Should I get into something significantly more comfortable than these maternity pants?" you asked your bump. "Maybe those cozy, stretchy leggings I just bought? Then you and I could curl up and take a nap on the couch before figuring out dinner?"

Pushing off of the door, you bent down with another groan as you picked up your shoes and placed them in the nearby closet. Afterwards, you shuffled your tired feet through your living room and straight towards your bathroom just through the short hallway.

"But first I'm going to pee for the millionth time today," you muttered under your breath. "Something I feel like I'm doing all the time now."

You used the bathroom quickly before heading to your room, taking your time to switch your clothes into something more comfortable. It wasn’t like you were planning to go out anywhere for the rest of your Sunday night. It didn’t matter that you were wearing a massive oversized shirt and a pair of maternity leggings that you’d rolled the waistband down to just below your bump. No one was going to see you, anyway.

“Alright,” you murmured as you left your bedroom, shuffling your way back down the hallway towards your living room. “Let’s nap and figure out dinner afterwards. Seems like you’re feeling pasta tonight, so I guess that’s the plan.”

Settling onto the couch, you pulled your feet up onto the cushions and underneath your blanket before you laid down. Almost instantly you could feel your sinuses closing up and you tried to ignore your irritation at it. At least it wasn’t the nausea, because that admittedly had been the worst part of everything so far. Getting comfortable on the couch, you tugged the blanket up to your chin, your eyes steadily closing as your exhaustion began to overtake you.

“You and I will be just fine on our own,” you whispered drowsily, patting your bump. “I’ll find a way to make this work. One way or another, we'll both be okay.”

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he buried his face in his hands. He was tired and annoyed this morning, irritated that his Sunday out hadn’t been too eventful last night. Ever since he’d finished dealing with the Russians, having gotten Petrov into police custody with the help of Mahoney, Hell’s Kitchen had been oddly quiet on the organized crime front. Which was poor timing considering the fact that Matt hadn’t wanted to stay in his apartment where he’d just be reminded how alone he was every night. 

It didn’t help that he’d been sleeping horribly, too. He wasn’t out as late as he had been for the past few weeks, meaning he had the time to sleep, but he clearly lacked the ability lately. His mind just wouldn’t seem to quiet, becoming almost louder than the sounds of the city around him when he tried to. Which was also quite irritating. 

With an annoyed huff, he slid his hands down his face, straightening back up in his chair. He picked up his glasses from his desk and placed them back onto his face. He was tired but he still had work to do. There was a frustrating case he’d been helping Foggy with lately and he figured he could distract himself with that today. He didn’t want to think about anything else.

Though Matt had barely gotten far focusing on the case before he heard Foggy entering the office, closing the door a bit harsher than usual behind himself. Even Karen startled in her office at the unexpected rough slam of the door. Matt’s brows furrowed behind his glasses immediately afterwards when he heard Foggy make his way straight to his office instead of his own. 

Confused, Matt’s head darted up just as Foggy threw his door open. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of Foggy as he stepped into the room, his breathing heavy and his heart beating a little faster than usual. Matt’s eyes narrowed curiously behind his lenses at the tension in Foggy’s body and the increase in his blood pressure.

“Are you fucking serious, Matt?” Foggy snapped.

Matt's brows knitted further together, even more confused at Foggy's behavior this morning. He hadn't seen Foggy all weekend, what could he have done to upset him?

“About what exactly?” he asked carefully.

Foggy stormed further into the room, roughly slamming both of his hands flat on Matt’s desk as he leaned forward. Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, noticing the elevation in Foggy’s heart rate further increasing. Apparently his answer hadn’t been the right one.

“You said you’d talk to her, Matt!” Foggy yelled. “You told me you were going to apologize and make things up to her! You told me that!”

Of course this was about you.

“Fog, I’ve been trying to reach out to her,” he replied calmly, trying to soothe his friend’s anger. “I’ve called her countless times over the past couple of weeks. I’ve left her multiple messages. She keeps ignoring me and not answering my calls. Clearly she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

Foggy scoffed loudly, angrily shaking his head. “There’s nothing you can do about that?” he shot back sarcastically. “Are you serious? Dammit, Matt!”

Matt heard the way Foggy’s hand swiftly rose from the desk, swinging through the air towards himself. Matt’s hand twitched from its place on the desk out of instinct, ready to dart out and grab Foggy’s wrist, but he was stunned when his friend actually landed a hit upside his head. 

“What the hell, Fog?” Matt snapped, scooting back in his desk chair as he ran a hand over the sore spot on his temple. “What’d you hit me for?”

“Honestly, I–I’m surprised you even let me do that,” Foggy said, his anger briefly replaced by surprise. “Figured you would’ve stopped me before I could.”

“Well I didn’t think you were actually going to hit me!” Matt shot back. “Why the hell did you hit me?”

“Because I’m pissed at you, Matt!” Foggy roared, anger quickly returning. “And I’m disappointed in you! You damn well know you could show up at her apartment if she’s not answering your calls. You’re just making excuses.”

“Show up and do what, Fog?” Matt retorted. “Force her to talk to me when she clearly wants nothing to do with me? Hurt both of us even more by forcing that interaction? It’s probably better if she goes on hating me anyway. She’ll move on faster, at least.”

Foggy’s hand flew to the bridge of his nose, pinching it between his fingers. Matt heard the sharp hiss of his frustration between his gritted teeth. Seeing how upset Foggy was had Matt quickly beginning to question just why he was so worked up over this situation. It was between you and him, after all. Why did Foggy want you to apologize and talk this badly?

“Just promise me you’ll go over there and physically talk to her, okay?” Foggy said, his anger barely restrained. “That you’ll offer her a proper apology and talk to her?”

Matt shifted in his seat, his eyes once again narrowing behind his lenses. “Why is this so important to you?” he asked carefully. “It’s been a few weeks now, why are you still so adamant that we talk?”

“Because,” Foggy said, his fingers releasing his nose as his hand lowered to his side, “I know how important it is for the both of you. And I also know how stubborn and idiotic you can be. Someone needs to kick you in the ass before you make a big mistake an even bigger one. So just promise me you’ll talk to her.”

Matt’s tongue slipped out between his lips, nervously wetting them. After a moment he nodded, hearing the way Foggy’s heart rate started to gradually decrease back to its normal pace.

“Yeah, alright,” he assured his friend. “I’ll talk to her.”

“And I mean soon, Matt,” Foggy pressed. “Not in another few weeks.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding again. “Okay, I’ll go talk to her. I promise.”

[jaekaicx]

hey does anyone remember that one amphibia theory/analysis post from a while back that mentioned how anne and marcy seemed to have switched color palletes

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Javi’s Playground✨

A/N: Ahhh I’ve been wanting to write a Javi one shot for a while, and I finally got the inspiration after listening to “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me come up with a name and beta read so I didn’t chicken out and not post 😘 This is my first time writing Javi, so I’d like as much feedback as I can get 🥰 I tried my best with the Spanish translations.

Summary: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

Pairing: Javier Pena x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Tags: smut, flirting, Javi goes to a strip club, alcohol, smoking, unprotected p in v, oral, Narcos era, reader is a stripper, reader has long hair, switching POVs, some Spanish (translations at bottom of doc)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The glow of the amber lights swirl above his head as a crystal disco ball spins slowly, throwing its sparkly essence into the crowded strip club. This isn’t his normal place, Paradise Cove. It’s only a distraction, a secret alcove to let go of any thoughts of drug lords, innocent bloodshed, Pablo Escobar, or any traces of misery he’s been holding on to over the past treacherous year. This was a place for forgetting, relaxing the mind, indulging in mere fantasies he could only wish to grasp his torn hands around. So he’d drink, smoke, and indulge in beautiful women in peace on this lonely Friday evening. 

   The red walls are smeared with flecks of sparkles, and the atmosphere is bursting with energy and dim lighting. The cool glass of amber whiskey sits in his hand as he gulps down another swig, letting the burn coat his insides as he flicks the small lighter and lights up another Marlboro cigarette. He lets the smoke surround him, fogging his vision as he inhales the nicotine and lets it sit there dwindling around him in a blur. Just for a couple of seconds, just enough to take the edge off of his growing migraine. 

   He throws his head back and exhales, blowing the smoke out as the music changes over to a tune he knows. “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground starts to play from the blaring speakers, the song slowly slipping through his ears as he sits up just a little straighter in the black leather chair. 

   The crowd hollers when the next girl takes the stage, low whistles reverberating off the side mahogany tables as the volume of the music picks up. He doesn’t realize what they’re all making a fuss about until he looks up and sees you. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Esplendida. 

   You’re so radiant, the way you strut across the stage in your crystal clear stiletto high heels as you spin in slow motion, running your fingers through your thick, long curls as you look over your shoulder and flirt with the crowd. Your legs are so long, the curve of your thighs begging to be touched as you sway your hips side to side and get lost in the song.

   And then there she was, in platform double suede. Yeah, there she was. Like disco lemonade.

   He can’t help but grip the damp glass in his hands a little too tight as he spreads his legs wide and relaxes into the plush leather, his eyes glued to you as you slide down the pole gracefully. He wets his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip, his cigarette burning his flared nostrils as he oogles the way you please the crowd with every single move you make across the reflective stage. 

   He watches the way you push the swell of your breasts up with your delicate hands, eyes the tiny black lingerie set that barely covers your porcelain skin, assesses the way the lacy thong skims across the curve of your hips, and nearly drowns on his sip of bubbling whiskey as you bend down and show off the thick globes of your ass. 

   Javi sets the half empty glass of alcohol down beside him on the little sturdy table and grabs his denim clad knee as he sinks his nails into the fabric, trying to hold himself together as he listens to the track play through the massive club, watching the way you keep turning and finding his searing gaze. 

   I smell sex and candy here. Who’s that lounging in my chair? Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction? Mama, this surely is a dream. 

   His brown eyes blow wide every time you turn and wink his way, casually flirting as you flip your hair and bite your lower lip, sending him spiraling as he feels the blood rush to his cock in his tight jeans, feeling just how hard he is now as his thick cock presses into the metal of the zipper. It’s like you know what you’re doing, sparkling eyes penetrating his gaze as you flirtatiously bat your long mascara coated eyelashes and eye fuck him from the glowing stage, making sure he’s getting exactly what he came her for. To feel good, to indulge in his fantasies, to make him think you want him. But customers don’t get to take strippers home. That’s not how this business works, not how it’s supposed to run, unless… 

   You slide slowly down the metal pole, ending up on the floor of the lit up stage as you spread your legs wide and tease him just a little as you play with the straps of your panties and press your heels into the floor, giving him a view that just about takes him out. He leans his elbows against his knees, rakes a hand through his thick mustache as he groans into the palm of his hand while sweat sticks to his tanned forehead. 

   He loves the view that’s on display, loves the outline of your pussy as he swears he can see wetness pooling there in between your legs while you sit there and tease him with the biggest smirk on your face he’s ever seen in his life. Those red, plump lips, those glistening thighs that deserve to be kissed, that pulsing core that begs to be lapped up. He can see it now, you splayed out on his bed while he fucks you deep, bottoming out as you scream his name, claw at his tanned skin as you beg for more. He’d take care of you. God he would. And fuck does he want to. Desesperadamente. 

   He can feel the precum sliding against his thick length, can feel just how badly he wants to palm himself through his tight denim as he watches you fall apart on the stage before him. At this point he has no restraint, can barely sit here and watch as you start to crawl on your hands and knees toward him, hypnotizing eyes that lock on his as he leans forward and unfastens the black tie that clings to his button-up white collared shirt. 

   His eyebrows furrow, lips parting unbelievably as you curl your finger and beckon him to come to the side of the stage, your gaze flicking over his figure as he prays you don’t see the erection that’s begging for some kind of release that’d involve hands, or maybe a mouth, a warm tongue…

   He takes another drag of the sweet nicotine and pushes himself out of the leather chair, slowly trudging up to you as he lets his eyes trail generously over your perfect body. When he finally makes it over to the end of the glossy stage, he sees just how beautiful your eyes really are, eyes that were just eye fucking him seconds ago, eyes he’d love to gaze into while he cants his hips against yours roughly. Eyes he could lost in, swim in.

   You smirk his way, letting your hands run through your tousled curls as you flutter thick eyelashes up at him. He digs into the pit of his denim pocket and pulls out a crisp twenty dollar bill as he cautiously slides it inside the lace of your push-up bra, his fingertips grazing the edge of one of your perky breasts as he groans in response. Your skin is so soft, he thinks what you have underneath the lace will be even softer, divine, delicious. 

   You bite your bottom lip flirtatiously and play with the end of his loose tie, letting the silk slip through your fingertips as he watches in a blissed out daze. You could’ve chosen anyone to target, could’ve had attention from any of the sleazy men in this nightclub, but you chose him. The one with the flecks of honey eyes, the one that couldn’t keep his eyes off you for one second, the handsome stranger who must’ve been new to this place. 

   “You new here?” you ask curiously as you eye his stance, watching the way his eyes seem to light with burning fire every time he even dares to look your way. 

   “Been here once or twice before, but this is the first time I’m seeing you, hermosa.” He lets his dark eyes slide down your body, a smirk curling across his plush lips as he leans in closer, until you can smell the tinge of nicotine lacing through his taste buds. “You sure look good up on that stage, amar. Prettiest thing I’ve seen in a city like San Francisco.”

   “Oh? You like what you see?” you blush as you hang your legs off the end of the stage, just enough to brush his thighs as you feel how strong they are. 

   “Oh, I like what I see alright. Jodidamente perfecta.”

   You feel your cheeks burn bright red, feel your thighs clench up as you see how thick his fingers are, how dark and ravenous his eyes look, how hard he is underneath the fabric of his tight jeans. You don’t ever get this wound up about customers, but something about well dressed, smoldering men makes you want to lose all dignity and throw yourself at him. He must be so good in bed. With the way he’s staring at you, all hot and bothered, he may as well just carry you out of this club. Even if it’s technically against the rules. 

   “What’s your name, handsome?” you ask as you brush your heels against the side of his ankles and watch him tense up under your touch. 

   “Javier. Just call me Javi for short, though. And yours, hermosa?” You tell him your name, your real name, not your stripper name, even if that’s against the rules, too. You clearly don’t care about any fucking rules at this point. 

   “Ahh, that’s a gorgeous name. Telling me your real name, yeah? Aren’t you a little rule breaker,” he teases as he cocks up a thick eyebrow and slides his thumb over his lips as he brushes against his thick mustache. You wonder what it’d feel like with his mouth covering your core, his mustache brushing over your swollen clit as he licks and licks until you come apart on his large tongue. 

   You pull yourself out of ridiculous wet fantasies and watch the smoke fall off his tongue. “I live to break rules,” you tease as you pull him closer, catching the end of his black tie as he’s so close now that you can see the embers of brown flecks scatter across his dark eyes. He’s so handsome, you think you want to go home with him. 

   “That right, hermosa?” he asks as he takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face as that smug smirk still encases his playful teasing. 

   “That’s right,” you giggle as you gently curl your fingers over the wrist that holds the burning cigarette. 

   He watches you carefully, eyes full of trouble as he puffs out a breath and fills your nostrils with the stench of whiskey and nicotine. “What do you say, hermosa? Wanna take a tour of my bedroom tonight?”

   You carefully snag his lit cigarette from his outstretched hand and slide it in between your crimson lips, taking a slow drag of the cigarette as he watches you with dark, wide eyes and parted lips that shine with the gleam of amber colored whiskey. You gently blow out the smoke in his face and lean forward as you wrap your manicured fingers around his loosened tie. “You can give me money, yes, but what else? I have plenty of money. What is it that you want, handsome?”

   He grabs the cigarette from your open hand and takes a whiff of the nicotine, letting it blow right back into your face as you smell whiskey, smoke, and trouble fill your lungs.

   “Te deseo…” He says it slowly, meticulously like it’s the most sensual thing he’s ever said to a woman before. You don’t know what it means, but it damn sure sounds like you need to say yes. 

   Your eyebrows raise as you smile wide his way. “I don’t speak Spanish, handsome. But I think I want to say yes. Wanna indulge me in what exactly it is you want?”

   He takes another slow drag of his cigarette as he smirks your way. “I want you, hermosa. In my bed, underneath my body, so I can fuck you fast and hard. Wanna rip off that lace and devour your sweet pussy until I have you coming apart on my tongue. Wanna make love to the beauty that stole my heart away tonight.”

   Your breath hitches as you gasp out of breath, not realizing you clutched onto his leather belt and clenched your sticky thighs together as slick pools warmly in your lace. You should’ve known he was a handsome menace the first moment you saw him sitting there with his glass of cold whiskey and lit up cigarette. You should’ve fucking guessed. 

   His body is now too close to yours, chest pressed against yours as you stand shakily off the stage and feel just how bad he wants you through the fabric of his tight jeans. You can see that way his dark eyes flick over yours, feel the heavy breaths coming from his broad chest, smell the stench of trouble and nicotine lacing around your wrists as he slowly grabs a strand of hair and whispers your name into the shell of your ear. 

   It’s almost too much, almost enough to get you fired right on the spot until the music suddenly changes to a Rhianna song, signaling it was time for the next dancer to come out. You abruptly pull away from him as you feel the tension sit thick in the air, almost like a fog takes over and you can’t see anything clearly anymore. 

   It’s your time to go, to mingle with other clients, and he knows that, you can see it in the understanding of those big chocolate eyes that stare adamantly at you. You give him a flirtatious wave and brush up against his large arm as you whisper up to him, “I get off in an hour. Meet me in the back.”

   He watches you saunter off, half smiling as he realizes he got the girl. He never misses, almost never gets turned down, but this one he might want to see again. He can already tell he’ll want you to stick around, maybe even make you his. Maybe he won’t have to walk this lonely, overbearing life alone anymore. Maybe…. just maybe you’ll stay. Maybe he’ll let you stay. Maybe for a night, a month, a year, forever. 

   The smell of sweat covered bodies, vanilla scents of sensual movements and whiskey clad tongues fill the room as you move at a slow, passionate pace. His meaty hands and smooth tongue are everywhere, sliding down your neck, pulling your pebbled nipples into his warm mouth, and lapping thoroughly at the slick between your sticky thighs. 

   Your moans come in sync. Elated, deafening, ravenous every time he licks a thick stripe over your dripping core. He groans each time you rake your fingers through his mess of dark locks, your pleasurable moans filling the room every time he pulls your puffy clit into his mouth as his thick fingers curl up into the spongy walls that make you see blinding stars in your vision. He doesn’t stop even after the first time you come for him, spilling all your pent up slick as he laps up every single drop between your thighs. 

   He pulls out another mind blowing orgasm with his experienced tongue alone, and he doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe before he’s splitting you in two with the slick cock that fills you to the brim, bottoming out in you time and time again until you feel him everywhere in your system, like the nicotine and whiskey that fill his lungs night after lonely night. He licks into your mouth, his smooth tongue dancing along with yours until you can’t taste anything but the tang of neat whiskey and toxic nicotine that bleed into your bloodstream, tasting like sweet addiction and danger, a lover in disguise. 

   You’re already close again, almost spilling yourself around his thick cock as he bends your knees back and folds you like an acrobatic so you can feel him deep, rough every single time he snaps his hips against yours and buries his face into your neck with furrowed eyebrows as he sucks and bites against the base of your neck. 

   “Come for me again, hermosa. There you go, such a good fucking girl. Let me feel you again. Squeezing so tight around my fucking cock,” he growls as he guides his thumb down to your clit and starts to circle nice and slow, the pressure building in your spine as you start to let go. 

   “Javi,” you moan as you scratch your long nails down his bare back, clawing at his tanned skin every time he guides his slick cocks inside you, reaching that spongy spot that makes you plead and moan with every thrust of his hips. 

   “Attagirl, hermosa. Tan encantadora,” he pants as sweat covers his glistening forehead. Once, twice, three more tight circles on your bundle of nerves and you’re squeezing his cock, spilling yourself all over him as you moan loudly into his ear as he comes seconds after, throwing his head back as he groans with pleasure as thick ropes of white come paint your insides. 

   He topples over next to you in the damp, twisted sheets and pulls you against his broad chest while his free hand lights a cigarette up while he gets lost in the thick cloud of nicotine and musty sex. While he sucks on the addictive stick of nicotine, his dark eyes wade over you as his lips graze warmly over your sweat covered forehead. 

   “Did so good for me, hermosa. You wanna stay the night? I can get you all cleaned up in the morning, and we can go for breakfast. Maybe eat you out on the kitchen counter while I make you coffee. What do you say, hermosa?”

   You shift closer against his side, sliding your fingers over his glistening chest as his deep breaths fill the void in the spacious room. You flick your eyes up to him and study him, watching the way he inhales smoke and stares warmly down your way, like he’s in a lucid dream just watching the girl of his dreams. “You mean like… you want to keep seeing me? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

   His jaw goes slack as his lips parts open, putting the burning cigarette out on the pale blue ash tray on the edge of his mahogany nightstand. “That’s right, hermosa. A sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girl like you deserves more, and I want to give you that. If you’ll let me.”

   You take in his offer, your fingers threading through his as you crawl over him and graze your swollen red lips against his. “Okay then, Javi. Show me your world.”

   He cups the back of your neck and brings you down to his lips as he slots his tongue between your lipstick smeared lips, pulling you deep into him as you taste every shade of red he can paint you, coating you in desire you’ve only ever dreamed of. 

   He tasted like sex and candy, and you were just getting started. 

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging or commenting or leaving me asks 🩷

Spanish Translations:

Hermosa - beautiful

Esplendida - gorgeous

desesperadamente - desperately

jodidamente perfecta - fucking perfect

Tan Encantadora - so lovely

Tags: @keylimebeag @sawymredfox @littlevenicebitch69 @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @msjarvis @amyispxnk @jasminedragoon @burntheedges

@akah565 @princesatracionera @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @pedrostories

@syd-djarin @tuquoquebrute @r3dheadedwitch

[artyandink]

delta time

SUMMARY: Based on this request: hey arty! ive seen a lot of mechanic!dean / car aficionado!dean fics. i wanted to know your take on f1 driver!dean x reader who is also somehow involved in the circuit or just a fan, if possible? thank you 🩷

You’re one of Dean’s radiomen (or women). You’re also his girlfriend, which makes things easier when he’s got you on a private channel telling him what was going on.

A/N: This was a hard one, but I hope I did a good job with these headcanons! I might get around to writing a fic, lmk if you want one!

DELTA TIME - A term used to describe the time difference between two different laps or two different cars.

F1 Dean is probably a cocky-ass son of a bitch. He is, in fact. No way he isn’t.

“Wanna celebrate after I win, sweetheart?”

“Dean. Focus.”

“Sorry not sorry.”

He’d keep a photo of you in his car if he could but he moved too fast to see it. But he’d drop his little nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘pretty thing’ on a private channel.

Occasionally he’d purposely forget to switch to a private channel and endure teasing from the team afterwards.

He knows he’s the best driver on the track. Forget Gordon Walker - another driver - he leaves him in the dust. Partly cause his motivation is steamy good luck sex before he gets to the track.

When he wins the race he’ll make his way to you first thing he can do, sweep you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

Then it’ll lead to some more sex when he gets you back to his house, yours or a hotel room.

He’s very protective of his F1 car. Definitely, so no sexy times back there as much as he wants to.

You have to keep him from speeding sometimes in Baby cause he’s so used to driving at increasingly high speeds

Dean’s more of a rough dom in bed but after a tiring race he’ll let you take the reins and boy is it a ride.

If you ever have celebration parties, you wear his colours on the track and that keeps his eyes on you all right.

There’s a lot of good natured ribbing from the team, especially when you and Dean get sappy.

You have to make sure he eats and sleeps well because of the minimum weight requirement and how he loses a few pounds after every race.

He adores you and he’s probably planning on proposing to you straight after a race

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak