#if you haven't played it then you're missing out

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[coffeeandbatboys]

Oh ho ho!! This will be interesting!! Okay….

Requesting for Fives (of course! 🥰) and “Right Here Waiting” by Richard Marx.

Have fun writing and you know we’ll have fun reading! 😁

OOOOOO hUsbAnd (as you can tell I'm not normal about my bby) lol

tagging @high-ct5555 who reqd either Wolffe or Fives with this song as well

Warnings: itty bitty suggestive comment, if you squint really hard. Fives being made of pure fluff. Mention of marriage (If you're not into that??)

Right Here Waiting (Fives x Reader)

"I miss you when you're not here," you murmur to the holorecorder, storing a message away to send your love. "anyways I hope you're okay and safe and I love you so much."

You end the recording and set the comm on your nightstand with a sigh. It's been weeks since Fives left on a mission and you haven't been able to properly have a comm call due to kriffing time differences.

You begin to drift off to sleep dreaming about him. About him coming home, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, and telling you how much he missed you too.

When you wake up the next morning, the first thing you notice is the presence of arms secured around your waist. The next is the telltale feeling of a goateed chin tucked into your shoulder. You smile, reaching up to squeeze Fives' hand.

He breathes in deeply, kissing your shoulder, and exhales with a satisfied hum.

"Hi," you coo, wiggling around in his hold to face him. He looks at you with all the love and adoration in the galaxy.

"Hey mesh'la," he greets, kissing the tip of your nose. You tilt your head up to catch his lips. He hums into the kiss and pulls you closer.

"Well g'mornin," he drawls softly against your lips. You smile and cuddle closer.

"Wasn't expecting you home."

He laughs, and you nearly cry because you missed that sound so much.

"Sorry, I'll just see myself out." he jokes.

You make an indignant noise and all but wrap yourself around him. "You're not going anywhere until Rex breaks in and drags you out of my arms."

"And legs." He adds, acknowledging the fact that all four of your limbs were tangled with his.

You laugh a little. "Yeah."

"Kark, I missed you." He breathes out.

You lean against his chest. "I missed you more."

"Nuh-uh." He counters, making you snort.

"Yuh-huh."

"Mesh'la, I played your recordings at least fifty times while staring at a holopic of you, just so I could pretend you were there with me."

"Yeah, well I dreamt about you every night."

A smirk crosses his face and he raises an eyebrow. "Oh? what kind of dreams?"

You smack him in the shoulder. "Dreams. Just, you being there. It's too quiet here when you're gone."

He dips his head with an earnest smile.

"I promise that when this war is over I'm gonna marry you and give you the life you deserve. I'll be right by your side every day."

If he keeps this up you might actually start crying.

"I can't wait," you smile. "I love you so much."'

He kisses your forehead. "I Love you more."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

[lottielov3r]

prom?

summary: you gain the courage to ask your best friend to prom

warnings: yall this is long asf. fluff, its been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS, andd i rushed the end im sorry😔

1000+ word count.

you watched this little blonde girl trip over a rock and scrape her knee when she looked up at you with tears welling in her eyes, you immediately felt like you needed to help. you pushed up your glasses as you walked over to her and took some tissues out of your bag and helped dab the blood before deciding on what to say, "i'm y/n. i'm sorry you scraped your knee but you should be alright. what's your name?" she looked up as you flash small grin her way, "i'm jackie."

ever since that day in kindergarten, you and jackie had been inseparable, you were always there to protect her and she was always there to support you. you started going over to her house after school to play dolls which changed to watching movies, to playing video games, and now to cooking for her, driving her around town, and looking at her with a different type of love in your eyes.

you listen to the smiths as you pull up to her house, texting her that you were there. you push up your glasses and you tap the steering wheel as you watch her strut her way over to your car in a casual "shopping outfit", as she liked to call it. when she gets in she kisses you on the cheek, leaving a small mark of lip gloss which causes you to groan and wipe it off. "um excuse me? since when do you wipe off my kisses?" she says with a slight offended expression. "since jeff pinned me against my locker and asked me why you were kissing me on the cheek but you know i don't actually mind." you smile as you pull out of her driveway, heading towards the mall.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence, tv girl playing in the background, as you navigated the roads towards the mall.

"speaking of jeff, did he ask you to prom yet?" you watch as jackie frowns slightly at your question but tries to keep her composure. "uh no he hasn't, we haven't talked in a while actually, i think we're broken up right now but anyway. i think i'll just go with shauna and lottie, they don't have dates." you frown slightly at her words but you know she doesn't mean any harm when she doesn't bring up going with you, dances aren't really your thing anyway. "oh. yeah that's cool, it's next weekend right? maybe i can help you look for dresses in the mall?" you raise your eyebrows when her face lights up, knowing y'all will be in there for hours. "oh my god! yes totally good idea!"

you pull into the mall, getting out and walking into the nearest store. you help her review many dresses in many, many, many, colors. you turn around for the 19th time as you wait for her to finish trying on a dress. "okay turn around." you sigh as you turn around expecting to see an upset jackie but instead you see the most beautiful dress ever, she looks at you expectantly as you stare in awe, jaw slightly dropped. "i-i mean wow jackie. you look absolutely gorgeous in that dress, jeff missed out." she wraps her arms around your neck, blushing slightly, pushing your glasses up your face slightly. "you really think i look good in this?" she mutters in a slightly shy tone, you know she's just looking for some form of validation. "yeah, that dress will make anyone fall in love with you." you chuckle out, still taken aback from how it looked on her.

"even you?" you stare into her eyes at her words, you know you can't tell her that the dress isn't needed for you to fall in love, that you're already falling, that you've already fallen. "yea jax, even me." she grins at your words and pulls you down into a hug, sighing in your ear when you wrap your arms around her waist. "wanna watch bojack horseman at my place? you pick what we eat." you smile as she shakes her head yes. the two of you head back to your place but not before getting some shitty mall food. y'all watch netflix for hours until shes falling asleep on your shoulder, you shake her slightly in hopes to wake her up. "let me take you home, alright? put your shoes on." she groans as she drags herself to your car, getting in the back and laying down. when you pull into her driveway she mutters a small goodbye and blows a kiss your way when she reaches the front door.

now, you know that you shouldn't even be THINKING about going to prom because dances are not your thing plus jackies the popular team captain. you're just someone who is lucky enough to be her best friend. but when you realize that it's your senior year and you just couldn't miss out on seeing jackie in that dress again, you absolutely had to. you drove to walmart, bought a poster board, a net, a soccer ball, and other supplies. when you get home you get to work, it takes you three hours, and some tears, to finally be satisfied with the poster.

the next day at school you decide that after practice would be a good time to do it, that way the whole school wouldn't see if you got rejected. you know jackie will probably say yes but as you're walking up to the field you feel like bile is collecting in the back of your throat. you watch as she walks into the locker room and take your chance. you grab the poster and ball out of the bleachers, run from across the field and stand in front of the locker room door, praying that jackie walks out first. you hold your breath when the door opens, ready to speak until your eyes widen at the sight of taissa and van. "we're already going together but you can join us if you'd like." van says with a snicker, taissa elbowing her with a laugh. "i'm assuming this is for jackie?" she says as she points a finger at your poster. "yea it is, do you think she'll like it? i kinda rushed it but she doesn't have an official date and i wanted to ask her." you ramble out before you hear a soft gasp. you watch as taissa moves to the side to reveal a teary-eyed jackie. "oh uh.." you push your glasses up and glance down towards the sign thinking about if you should just say it's for someone else to avoid being rejected.

"is that for me?" jackie questions in a breathy tone, looking surprised. "yea, i just noticed that you seemed down about not having a date and honestly i wanted to ask you. dances aren't really my thing but you're my best friend and i just had to take you." you ramble out in a strung together sentences. she looks dumbfounded as she opens her mouth and closes it again, trying to get words out. taissa and van look in between you and jackie expectantly, silently hoping she'll say yes. you gulp as jackie walks up to you and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss on the cheek.

"was that a yes orrr?" you whisper playfully. jackie gives you an award-winning smile before nodding her head and licking her lips subtly. you stare at her lips feeling like it was just the two of you in this moment, like nobody could break the string tying you together. you lean in and kiss her lips, dropping the poster as you go to grasp her hips, you head swimming with love. you hear van let out a wolf-whistle as you pull away after a few seconds, your face heating up. "was that okay?" jackie questions as she looks up at you. "more than okay. still didn't get my yes though." she giggles at you before grabbing the ball you decorated, "if you can score this into the goal then i'll say yes!" she yells as she takes off to the field. "jackie what the hell!" you say as you sprint after her.

you guys were out there for an hour before finally getting her to say "yes."

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

im gonna work on shorter fics yall i swear😭🙏 just let me get a grip first

and thanks to the anon who requested it, i hope it meets your expectations even though it's not exactly what you requested (sorry!)

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Much to Learn

Maddie has Phantom cornered. He's not getting away from her this time.

{Irma} Maddie overhears something she shouldn't, and it makes her rethink everything (reveal gone right) [ghost]

Read also on AO3

[Warning for mentions of violence/dissection]

She had him. Maddie had that spook cornered, and there was no way he could escape, at least not without being seen. Jack was covering the other exit, but she knew she had him. Phantom was hers. 

"That was too close," she heard Phantom's voice around the corner.

He had no idea, she thought, raising her ecto-gun, ready to take him down.

"No kidding," a girl's voice replied.

Maddie froze. Was he talking to someone? Her voice sounded kind of familiar. Was she in danger.

"My parents almost had me that time," Phantom replied. "Thank the Ancients I gave them the slip, or it would have been hello scalpel."

"You got Klemper, right?" a boy's voice asked.

So Phantom had two captives... or... perhaps allies, the way they were talking. But what had he meant about his parents? Were they still alive?

"Asked him for his best soup impression," Phantom replied with a chuckle. "You know, I don't actually mind if they want to have fun and goof off, and it's great for them that they don't have to worry about consequences in the Ghost Zone, I just wish they could wrap their heads around the fact that here in the real world, people can still get badly hurt. Like, some of us are mortal, buddy."

"And Klemper plays pretty rough, so it's no wonder he doesn't have any friends," the girl replied.

"Yeah, no kidding," the other boy's voice agreed.

They didn't sound like captives, Maddie determined. They definitely didn't sound like ghosts, either.

"Alright, if my parents had followed me, I'm sure they would've burst in guns blazing by now," Phantom said. "I think I'm in the clear."

There was a flash of light and a sort of whirring sound.

The next voice Maddie heard wasn't Phantom's... it was Danny's.

"Guess I'm not gonna get dissected tonight," he said, like it was some kind of big accomplishment. "Good thing, too because I have a huge English assignment due soon that I haven't even started on. I definitely don't have time for my parents to cut me open."

"You sound awful cheery," the girl noted, and suddenly, Maddie could place the voice. It was Danny's friend Sam.

"Well, you know, you gotta celebrate the small victories, right?" Danny replied. "That's what Jazz is always telling me, anyway."

"Morbid victories," scoffed the other boy—Tucker, she finally recognized.

When Maddie had cornered Phantom and his allies, she'd actually... or rather, she'd also cornered Danny and his friends. Because they were the same people.

Her son was Phantom.

Oh, god, what had she done?

"Come on, guys, let's get out of here," Danny said, and Maddie could hear him and his friends walking toward the door where she was lying in wait.

She wanted to run so she could have time to properly process her thoughts and the new information, but she was rooted to the spot, her brain racing at a mile a minute. Danny was a ghost? How? When? God, she had shot at him.

He was coming her way. He was almost to the door. She wanted to run, but she still couldn't move.

He walked through, and jumped when he saw her, back against the wall, ecto-gun still raised and in-hand.

"Mom," he said, sounding mildly alarmed. "Uh... how long have you been standing there?"

"You're Phantom," she said. The words just spilled from her lips, and she was helpless to stop them.

She didn't miss the way Danny's muscles all tensed up at once and he eyed the gun still in her hand.

"What?" he asked.

Her eyes widened and she dropped her ecto-gun to the floor as if it had bitten her. Oh god, he was afraid of her. Her own son was afraid of her. What kind of mother had she been? What had she been doing?

She threw herself at him, and wrapped him up in a hug. "Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry!"

"Uh...." She could feel the hesitation in his movements as he hugged her back, and it brought tears to her eyes. "It's... it's okay, Mom. You didn't know."

"No, I didn't know, but it's not okay," she insisted. "Ignorance is never an excuse. I tried to hurt you!"

"But you didn't," he said. "Mom, I'm fine. It's okay. I forgive you."

"I've been a fool," she said, reluctantly pulling away from the hug so she could look him in the eye and cup the side of his face, gently, like a mother should. "I only heard a minute of conversation, but it's obvious you know about ghost. You probably—no, you definitely know more than I do. Maybe you can fill in some of the gaps in our research."

"If it means you won't have to dissect anybody, I'd be happy to help."

Maddie cringed, but once she got past the barb, it sounded nice. A little mother-son scientific research and bonding was just what she needed to get to know her son again. He'd been so distant lately, and now... well, now she knew why. And now that she knew, she could start to pull him closer again, learn the kind of man he was growing into when he wasn't too busy avoiding her.

"That sounds wonderful, Danny," she said. "I'm sure I have so much to learn."

[nell0-0]

Do you, too, feel a fondness for gnc Link? Any and all of them!

Hm, I'll be honest, I've been thinking about this ask for a bit and I don't quite get what you mean by gnc Link.

My best guess is the GBC/GBA Zelda games. If that's what you meant, then absolutely! I'm currently playing Minish Cap (I've been taking my time to enjoy the game ^^). Next on my list is alttp and after that I'll probably play the Oracle games (...again. Never got too far before but I'll definitely beat them this time!)

If that's not what you meant, then could you clarify?

[casiavium]

I don't like the mean girls musical because it's a worse version of Heathers but also. I wish it was a thing when I was in highschool because as the person who was always typecasted as the dumb one I would have KILLED IT as Karen

[illiana-mystery]

An Oldie But A Hottie 

[moonscape]

emery just told me about breloom's plot in explorers of the sp!rit THAT'S SO FUCKING STUPID LMAO

[dolokhoded]

thinking about song of the ocean from dimitris papadimitriou's moby dick musical... girl.....girl.....

[juniemoe]

anyway i wanna thank the god for having a romanceable companion well in his forties and making it one of the sweetest romances ever <3

[missiodine]

tfw you wanna try to play ttrpgs again, but ever since playing a few years ago during a certain two campaigns, you were bullied by people who you thought were your friends because you didn't know how to play and they made up reasons why they should dislike you irl. especially while you tried to be nice to them and give them space and tried to make steps towards interacting with them in rp too.

like no, it wasn't like "oh, it's just character interaction, these characters just don't like each other!" no it was "no joke, I absolutely hate your guts, Miss Iodine, fuck you and I'll be an arse to you in-game and irl. i will ignore everything you and your character say, i will attack your character because why not and say it's just what my character would do, and then start harassing my DMs"

love it when i tried for months to reach out for a proper sit down only to be given a sorry-not-sorry half-assed push the blame onto the victim apology

like yes this lives rent free in my head. you won, if that's what you wanted.

[too-many-paper-cranes]

nmg categories are so boring omg. when i get isma’s skips in an nmg run it’s like ok....sure but i could be doing the same thing but playing rando instead. but going through the same room in all glitches is like yippee!!! yahoo!!! im floating and flying and potentially softlocking!!! living on the edge and i love it

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

I will forever stand by my headcanon that Eddie Munson would absolutely love guitar hero. If this man makes it to 2005 he's owning all the games and has several broken guitars. All of the games are complete on expert and he claims it's more fun while high (spoilers: it's not).

[magentagalaxies]

overdid it at my improv show last night and now all i can do is lay in bed having blorbo thoughts

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

imagine it's winter and you're driving down a country road when you hit someone with your car. you hit the breaks and get out while freaking tf out only to see you hit a dog. seeing it's still breathing, you get it into your car and drive to the nearest vet. the next morning, you take home your new dog. a few weeks later, you start suspecting someone is secretly living in your home.

(you just got yourself a werewolf)

[biromanticbookbabe]

I have no idea what I'm going to do for NaNoWriMo this year. I feel very uninspired lately.

I just want to do well in my class and my energy has been low lately (season change on my new medicine, I'm guessing???). I need some energy because it's Shakespeare and I need to keep my grades up to stay in the honors society (no pressure lol).

Much More in the tags as per usual... :P