Novel & Cerita Fanfiction Big Bang Theory

“He’s really good in bed. Like… dangerously good. Like ruin-you-for-other-men good.” Tia cackled so loud Jasmine had to muffle the phone with a pillow. “I cannot believe you! Miss ‘I’m just going to have a chill summer’ ended up getting railed by her brother’s firefighter best friend! Girl, you’ve been living in a whole fanfiction this whole time!”

" I watched their faces on the livestream. Disbelief and shock were written all over them. I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't fun to be played, was it? The chat exploded with comments. "Yo, I didn't see this coming! We may not have gotten what we came here for, but this ending is hilarious!" "Adam is smart. He probably figured it out long ago." "What a twist! We thought Adam had been fooled, but turns out they were the ones tricked." Mom tried calling me, but the number was out of service. I had even blocked her on WhatsApp. From Genevia, I couldn't stop laughing at their faces. Mom and Dad were livid, but Archer was secretly rejoicing.

“To her. To both of us. I don’t know. It’s blurry.” Delilah lets out a bark of laughter. “Okay, great. Now you’re starring in your own fanfiction.” “It’s not funny.” “It’s hilarious. You need a therapist. Or a priest.” “I’ve been reading these books, okay? The kind where the guy is dangerous and obsessive and completely wrong, but the girl still falls for him because he sees all of her. And I keep imagining Professor Montelli with his hand in my hair and his mouth at my throat and—”

Looking up at me from her upside-down position, Blanca's eyes met mine. I refrained from smiling amidst the pandemonium, but there was no denying that Blanca always managed to make life interesting. Out of all the Johnson kids, she and I had a special bond. On my twenty-fifth birthday, she had written an Avengers fanfiction where Bucky Barnes and Captain America were more than just friends. It had been entertaining as hell. "Blanca, are you ready to go?" I asked her, trying to maintain a composed demeanor in the midst of the chaos.

"No. I just don't like pizza." She flinches, proceeding to stare at me like I told her the sky is red or the moon is made of Styrofoam. "Excuse me?" "I don't like pizza." "Who doesn't like pizza?" She whisks her freehand through the air. "I don't know what's a bigger red flag—you proposing a fake engagement plan for us or not liking pizza." "Goodbye, Hannah." I turn and walk in the opposite direction, wearing a smirk that she can’t see.

Thousands upon thousands of comments. And my fucking face. Or at least a drawn version of it. I stared at the screen for a long moment while Hawthorne waited silently beside me. One headline literally read: Is Fabian Secretly Inspired By Dominic Cantrell? Internet Thinks Yes. I exhaled slowly through my nose. Of course they did. The woman practically copied my entire existence into that character then acted innocent when I noticed similarities. “She’s causing controversies again,” Hawthorne said carefully. I almost smirked. “That’s my wife.” A few awkward faces on the conference call clearly heard that and immediately pretended not to. I held my hand out. “Get me a copy.”

My dating life was non-existent, but a little fun here and there wouldn’t be bad, would it? Impossible. I couldn’t do anything. So for that moment, I settled for leaning back and sipping my cocktail as I watched him talk about how stressed he got sometimes. But my mind had wandered. I mentally pictured him doing something other than talking. I didn’t know why, but I wanted so badly to run my hands under his turtleneck sweater and feel the muscle I was sure was rippling beneath. Thankfully, I still had restraint. Dan and I moved to other mundane topics, like the best ways to let off steam. He entertained me with stories about him traveling to different places, like the Bahamas one time. I had

… Clinging to the 18 male hosts Mandy had hired, I bawled my eyes out. Sipping on a cocktail, she laughed at how pathetic I was. "Oooh, looks like you like him!" Was she serious? I was heartbroken after being abandoned, yet there she was, rubbing salt on my wounds. "Hmm, fake incest—just my thing! I'm definitely writing fanfiction about you two tonight. If you like him then just jump his bones! Once you get into it, you'll forget all about everything else…" Pursing my lips, I retorted, "You're one to talk. Why aren't you making a move after hiring so many men?"

“You said YES? To the human embodiment of a stock market crash?” I buried my face in my hands. “I didn’t plan it. He offered—connections, opportunities, security. For us. And I thought of rent, tuition, groceries, all of it, and—” Maya slapped her knee dramatically. “This is literally fanfiction. Fake dating the billionaire boss? I’ve read this trope a hundred times!” “This isn’t a trope, it’s my life!” She snorted. “Same thing.” But then her humor faded, her expression turning sharp.

“There, just sent you one. This one is an angsty Harry/Zayn fic. Also has some mpreg, if that’s your cup of tea.” I began to read this fanfiction, mostly to appease Niamh, and when I realized what, precisely, the term mpreg meant, I set my phone back down. I considered myself fortunate that I’d skipped the part where Zayn gives birth to his and Harry’s baby. “You asshole,” I called her in French. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. Ooh, I should send you the diagram of how mpreg happens. It’s a whole thing—”