#i think this is just from a fanfic i read on AO3 where she called somebody 'schnookums'

[ibettertakethisoffshelby]

cw: m*mmy kink, use of "baby girl" for reader (sex neutral)

minors dni

no thoughts just Hitch coming closer and closer until her mouth is right up against your ear, hands lovingly placed on your shoulders, she almost whispers

"What do you need?"

you can't even talk, you place your hands on her back and hope the desperation in your eyes gives you away

"Do you need some love?"

you're choking up, you try to nod, but it comes out looking like a lagging robot

she just smiles- "Is that what you need? You need a bit of loving?"

all you can manage is some choked squeaks and a face like the bottom emoji

she hasn't ever brought this next idea up before, but she wants to see if her hunch is right

she decides to take the risk, and either ruin the moment or take things to a new level

she brings her mouth closer to your ear-

"...do you need mommy to take care of you?"

you're awestruck.

yes.

that's exactly what you need.

you manage to nod emphatically, while squeaking and moving to fully hug her

she reciprocates, bringing her waist to yours and rocking you back and forth

"Can you use your words, baby? Tell me what you want."

"M... mommy... please... take good care of me... I... I need it... I need you, Mommy... wanna be your perfect little baby girl..."

she gives you the sweetest gentlest kiss on the lips

"I would love to."

[swordsandholly]

Steel Magnolia

Part 1 - paused

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

[megamindsecretlair]

Call Out My Name

Pairing: Businessman!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, stranger sex, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. D/s lite. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: At a work conference, your boring coworkers want to continue hanging out. Needing your alone time, you head to the hotel bar for a quick drink before you headed upstairs. But when a gorgeous stranger buys your drink, it entices you to do something you’d never done before. Be bold. 

Word Count: 5,426k

AO3 Link

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @westside-rot. I have not been able to stop thinking about businessman Stunna all day. Welp, here we are LOL. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @00aijia00 @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @amethyst09 @harmshake @satoruya @theunsweetenedtruth @ciaqui @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby

Your coworkers spilled out of the conference room in a fit of laughter. Your laugh sounded so fake, even to your ears, but your coworkers were none the wiser. They stated that they wanted to keep the party going and go out for drinks and a later dinner.

Ugh. Spare you. It was bad enough being stuck in a hot ass conference room with these people but it was even worse that they wanted to keep going. It was past nine o’clock and you couldn’t stomach them for one second longer.

Usually, you did these conferences by yourself. You volunteered for the position for free travel and the chance to step out of your shoes for a minute. These people didn’t know you. It was a chance to ease the burdens of your life. But this was a bigger conference, so your boss let the four of you go.

“I’m actually so tired,” you said and heaved a yawn, stretching it out to really look convincing. “I couldn’t stay awake if I tried!”

“Oh, come on! You’re such an old lady!” One of your coworkers, Shane, said and shook his auburn hair. 

“Hey! It takes a routine to look this good at my age,” you said and pointed to yourself and your cream and brown outfit. Your coworkers laughed, waving goodbye, with final pleas to go ahead and join them. God, no thanks. 

You headed towards the hotel bar, feeling that much lighter just from getting rid of their energy. More people needed to appreciate a little quiet and solitude. Entering the hotel bar, your heels clicked on the faux wood as you looked around. It had a nostalgic sort of vibe, with soft neon light, wooden tables, and a TV playing in the corner. 

It was perfect. It looked like the type of place where everyone minded their own fucking business. You walked over to the bar, planting your brown jacket and purse on the seat to your left. You caught the bartender’s attention and ordered your favorite drink. 

As you waited for him to make it, you pulled out your phone and scrolled to your current favorite fanfic on Tumblr. You just needed a good drink and some alone time in the hotel room. You could almost feel the cool air on your skin as you sat and relaxed with good writing. 

The bartender slid your glass into your line of sight. You mumbled a thanks and pulled out your wallet.

“It’s been taken care of,” he said. 

You finally look up, puzzled, because who the hell would do that? The bartender tilted his head to your right. You turned, looking into the face of a god. It took all your willpower not to drop your draw and ogle him.

You licked your lips to give you time to stall, because goddamn. You were suddenly too aware of your heartbeat thumping in your chest and down below. You didn’t think people could have physical reactions to real life people and yet here you were.

You grabbed the drink and lifted it in a silent thanks to the mystery man. He nursed his own drink, glass barely filled with a dark, amber liquid. He pointed to the seat next to you and you hoped you didn’t look too desperate by nodding your head. 

He got off of the stool and damn. He was fine as hell. He was taller than you, impossibly tall, with long legs and decked out in a burgundy suit with a dark gray shirt, tie slightly askew from around his neck. The top button was undone, showing off a chiseled chest. 

You watched as he sauntered over and sat one seat away from you. Close enough to converse while still giving you some space. You were really starting to like him. 

He smiled and introduced himself. “But most people call me Stunna,” he said and smirked like he admired how silly that was. 

“Dare I ask why?” You asked.

“He shrugged. Something that stuck around since high school. You wear one shiny outfit and everybody’s a clown all of a sudden,” he said. 

You laughed, shaking your head and taking a sip of your drink. “You did not!” 

Stunna laughed, showing a radiant smile that completely transformed his face. He was stunning before, but he smiled like the first break of dawn across the horizon. Now you understood why they called him Stunna. 

“I promise I did. Although I burned all the evidence because no one needed to keep that around,” he said.

Conversation flowed easily with him. You told him your name and why you were at the conference. He told you all about his modest gaming company. Modest. You gushed all over the games that he produced, sharing your joy over the games that meant so much to you.

“There’s no way you really play,” he said. 

You nodded. “Believe it. Night and Sky? I cried by the time I finished and then played it fifty thousand more times,” you said.

Stunna laughed and shook his head. “You have no idea how much this means to me. It’s good to hear something good about my work every once in a while,” he said. 

Since you had that Stunna in front of you, you had thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Still, you persevered, rapidly asking him questions. Bless him, he answered every single one. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m no better than the people in the audience,” you said. You slapped your hands to your cheeks, feeling utterly mortified. You wished the soft, dark wood of the bar would swallow you whole. You instantly regretted nerding out all over a stranger, all over Stunna of all people. 

Stunna laughed. “I promise, you’re all good,” he said. When you shook your head, he chuckled again. Oh his voice was deep like chocolate and as savory as coffee. You just wanted to take a deep dive into it and never look back. 

And his eye contact was insane. You often had to look away from him, body heating in all the right ways from being under intense scrutiny. You waved your hand to dismiss his words or more like a visual cue to clear your mind from all of your racing, nasty thoughts. 

Maybe it was the long day. Maybe it had been too long since you were satisfied by something other than your fingers. But all you could think of was being bold. Warning signs and danger tones rang in your head as you thought of taking home a complete stranger. You watched enough TV to know that people never had the best intentions.

But hell. You were too willing to ignore all of that. You took in the cut of his suit, tailored, not off the rack. The flash of gold on his wrist from his huge watch. The long, thick fingers that you imagined wrapped around your throat.

And his lips. God, his lips. You wanted to get lost in those full lips. The way he spoke. The bite of hood to his tone to suggest that he wasn’t silver bred. The way that he absently stroked his teeth with his tongue. Was he doing it on purpose? To drive you completely mad? 

You saw his lips moving but swore that no sound came out. You weren’t drunk, just a little tipsy, so you couldn’t blame it on that. It was simply that you felt him. Was that weird? There was this connection getting built between the two of you, brick by brick, laugh by laugh. 

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“I said, are you good?” He asked.

You nodded your head. So, so, so good. Your mind had a tendency to wander so you pulled it back in by looking at Stunna’s lips. It was just as distracting as his eyes but at least you didn’t get flustered looking at his lips. 

Conversation turned towards griping about the conference, finding camaraderie by complaining about the same things. The overpriced food, the stinky attendants, and the anxiety of it all getting up in front of a crowd. Still, there were good parts to being a nerd.

Bold. Bold. Bold. Your heart was thundering in your chest, beating rapidly, out of control. So fast, you felt it at the base of your throat. You took the final sip of your drink, letting the sweet burn travel down to warm your belly. Your pussy gave a little throb like she was encouraging you on, rooting to get fucked as much as you were. 

You stood up and grabbed your things. Stunna looked disappointed for a moment, smile dropping inch by inch. It felt cruel to tease him like this but you couldn’t help it. You dug in your purse and pulled out the spare keycard.

You usually carried one, but you were in a rush this morning and ended up bringing both. You slid it across the bar table as you walked closer to him.

He smelled amazing up close. Like wood smoke and fresh mountain air. You leaned in a little closer than you would normally dare, bringing your hand close to his. You tapped the keycard, pushing it under his palm.

“Why don’t you come meet me upstairs,” you said, not really phrasing it as a question. Stunna lifted an eyebrow, looking from the key card, to your eyes, to the low swoop of your cream dress. 

His eyes moved slowly back to yours, locked, a smile curving his lips. “That right?” He asked. 

You nodded, stepping closer. You put your hand on his forearm, leaning into his ear. “I like it nasty,” you whispered in his ear, ending it with a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

Stunna sighed, sealing it with a chuckle. You walked away, hoping you weren’t too forward, as you hurried to the elevator. You forgot to give him a time limit and wondered if he’d follow you too soon, not even giving you the chance to strip and entice him upon entrance.

You rode the elevator to your floor, anticipation thrumming in your veins at the prospect. There was a tiny bit of doubt. After all, he had plenty of reason to think it was a trap. Ill intentions knew no bounds. But you hoped. Hoped that he’d join you on this crazy idea in this random city and at this random graphic arts conference. 

The paisley flooring blended well with the pinkish brown walls, striped paneling along the bottom half giving it a subtle interesting look. There were lights covered in intricate bowls, illuminating your way to your room. 

Your hands shook as you opened your door, glancing behind you at the elevator doors. Was he on it now? Was he eager? Would he show? Fuck, you hoped so. You’d hate to have to take care of yourself tonight. It wouldn’t be the same. 

You closed the door, scurrying inside and flipping only the lamp light on. You pushed your suitcase out of the way, cleaned up lingering trash people tended to  accumulate in hotel rooms. You hurriedly locked away any valuables, your wallet and the like. Just in case. You could be a dumb bitch right now, but at least you weren’t completely lost. 

You took off your dress, hanging it up in the closet. You stood there in your cream lacy bra and panties, with little bows on the sides. You liked wearing sexy things. It made you feel confident and desirable. You kept your heels on and then sat down on your bed. 

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on your door. You gasped, wiping sweaty palms on your thick thighs as you got up and went to the door. The lock beeped, the mechanics whirring, as Stunna opened the door.

Seeing you standing here, posing, he stopped for a moment with a smile on his face. “Uh, damn,” he breathed, taking in your sexy form. You felt amazing under his gaze, reading the truth of his lust in his dark eyes. 

He still wore the burgundy suit and he had to turn to fit into your doorframe. Standing next to him, you did have to crane your head a bit, as you looked into his eyes. He bit his lip as he made a show of looking you up and down.

Everywhere he looked, you felt like a physical caress on your skin. You felt exposed even though you were covering the good bits. “Look at you looking so pretty. All of this for me?” He asked.

You nodded. “Don’t you know that you shouldn’t play with strangers?” He asked.

You grinned and shook your head. “I couldn’t help it,” you admitted. Shocked to find that it was the absolute truth. You truly couldn’t help it. You needed this man in the worst way. An ache burrowed into your core, leaving you feeling needy and desperate. 

He walked further into the room, taking one look around. He looked down, looking at your breasts and he licked his lips. “Get down on them knees,” he commanded.

You were on fire. Burning incessantly. Waves and waves of heat moving up and down your spine. You slowly got to your knees, bending down while looking him in the eyes. He smirked. “I’m clean, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to,” he said.

“I invited you up here, remember?” You asked. You fell completely to your knees, the plush carpet like heaven on your knees. 

“You can say stop at any time,” he said. 

Your teeth bit your bottom lip, kneel-walking closer to him. You looked up. You really had to crane your neck now. Your hands worked at his button and zipper, freeing the growing bulge between his legs. Your eyes widened. You knew that he’d be big but…he had an impressive dick print, filling out his dark briefs in the best way.

He had strong thighs, a dusting of hair on his legs. You pushed his pants down further, running your nails softly against his dick. He hissed, rolling his neck. “I can use my words,” you said. 

“That right? What else that mouth do then?” He took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He loosened his tie more, unbuttoning the second button on his shirt, and then rolled up his sleeves. He revealed his forearms, strong powerful works of art. 

You grinned and buried your face in his bulge, running your nose across the thick length. His fingers caressed your forehead, cheek, and chin. You moved to push down his briefs, dragging down his thighs and salivating at the thought of fitting him in your mouth. 

You could feel your essence gathering between your thighs, pussy aching and throbbing, begging to be played with. His dick sprang free, bouncing, as it waved in your face. He was incredibly huge. How were you going to fit him all in? 

You’d have to use both hands to satisfy this man. You looked at him as you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Stunna grabbed his dick, tapping the tip against your tongue and moaning at the sight. 

You wrapped your lips around his length, suckling him down. He groaned, hands gripping the base of your neck and pulling you closer, taking him deeper. “Fuck, just like that. Get it nice and wet for your pussy,” he moaned.

You cried, picturing just that nasty image. You slobbered on him. Suckling and retreating, bobbing up and down, slurping and moaning. Hands massaging his shaft where your lips couldn’t reach. Stunna groaned as you sucked him off, grabbing a fistful of your braids. 

You cried, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage. It turned you on more and more, hearing his hisses and groans, knowing that he was fully clothed while you were not. He gripped your braids tighter, lifting an eyebrow at you.

You nodded, answering his silent question. Yes, you were alright. Yes, you were getting excited with the way he made sure you felt comfortable. Whatever this man wanted, you were willing to move heaven and earth to achieve it. 

“Fuck, this mouth is perfect. Damn girl, suck it like you own it. That’s all yours right there,” he moaned, encouraging you. You spat on his dick, suckling him back down. 

“You want it real nice and wet for that pussy, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded, gulping him down as far as you were able. 

Stunna jerked and twitched, abruptly pulling himself out of your mouth. You whined, leaning forward to try to suck him back in. “You keep doing that, I’ma bust,” he said and chuckled. 

“I want you to,” you said and pouted. You had no clue how he knew. How he knew what to say or how to treat you. How easy it was to surrender. No fight, no battle, no war to be won. You saw this man and you wanted. 

You wanted him in the worst way. And all it took was a little boldness on your part. A little shove in the right direction. A little clear and decisive action. Sliding your keycard to him was the wildest thing ever. Stuff of stories somewhere in the blogosphere. But here you were, catering to a man who knew what to do.

There was no coaching. No training. No room for you to argue and hassle over how to handle your body. Guys treated sex like they were lord and master over a woman’s body. As if you hadn’t spent your entire life with it. Every bump, mole, or scratch on you was accounted for. You knew your body best. So why wouldn’t a guy listen to how best to please you? 

None of that arrogance was present in Stunna. He eyed you like you were a goddess. Like there were curves and rolls that he wanted to explore, he just wasn’t sure where first. 

He held out his hands and helped you stand up. He grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a quick, bruising kiss. You gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep in and explore your mouth. Your tongues dueled and danced, twirling and circling. He moaned as he sucked on your lips, tugging, feeling an answering tug in your pussy. 

You were dripping, absolutely ruining your panties. His hands caressed your shoulders, moving down your sides, and finally cupping your ass. He made a deep groaning sound, squeezing your ass and separating your cheeks just because he could. 

“Let me see how wet you are for me,” he said. He guided you to the bed, pulling on the middle of your panties. His knuckle brushed your wet heat and you gasped, looking at him.

He kept that same intense look in his eyes, staring at you while you moaned and whined. He bit his lip, watching you. Watching every sigh, every grimace, every jerk of your body. 

“How wet that pussy get?” He asked. He continued to rub his knuckle up and down your slit. You grew wetter under his attention, oozing your essence in slow waves. Your teeth were chattering, clicking as you felt your tummy getting tighter.

You gripped onto his forearm, squeezing and feeling his tendons move as he played with your pussy. He opened his hand, fingers swirling around your clit. Fuck, you were on fire. Burning and burning with no end to the suffering. 

“S-Stunna,” you stuttered. 

“Oh, say it again,” he growled, voice deep and commanding respect. 

“S-Stunna, fuck! Oh my god, oh my god,” you moaned. 

“Mhm, loud and clear, baby,” he moaned.

You moaned louder, letting him know verbally that he was doing something very well. He dipped his middle two fingers in your pussy and you leaned off of the bed, clutching his forearm. He grabbed your wrist with his free hand, pinning it to the bed near your head.

“Keep that shit down, fuck you fighting for?” He asked. “Let that shit go. Let it all go. Let the bullshit go and come get yours,” he said.

“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” you moaned, choppy, ragged sounds escaping you. You focused on your orgasm, teased it to the front as you thought about this gorgeous man bringing you pleasure. How he seemed to be a figment of your imagination.

Something your mind conjured up, surely. There was no way he could be this perfect. This focused on your pleasure. He used this thumb to press on your clit. And like a bottle rocket, you were off. Screaming your pleasure and entering the upper atmosphere. You couldn’t breathe, clutching the sheets and bringing it to tuck under your neck as you exploded on his fingers.

Stunna cooed, watching you. “So fucking pretty. So fucking good cumming all over these fingers. Fuck, I could watch you all day and night,” he groaned. “Pussy nice and fucking juicy.” 

He got to his knees, grabbing your thighs while you were momentarily out of it. You squealed as he pulled your ass off of the bed, moving your panties to the side, and then sealing his lips to your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Stunna! Right there!” You screamed, hands flying to the back of his neck and holding on. Stunna planted his hands on your thighs and pushed, nearly folding you in half. There was pressure on your lower back, legs too thick to hold up on their own, even with his assistance.

You hooked your arms under your legs to hold them open, getting back into the groove of his tongue lapping at your juices. There were lewd, sucking noises as he ate you out. His tongue was big enough for slow circles that touched your clit and your entrance. Round and round he went, getting you worked up to the point that you couldn’t hold yourself proper anymore. You just wanted to collapse, to give in to the dying star in your heart as it wanted to blast you into pieces. Scatter you across the universe to drift endlessly. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whispered. 

“Wet ass pussy. Can suck on this shit all night,” Stunna moaned, continuing to eat you out. It was official. Stunna ruined you for all others. No one else would be able to take you to such heights. Multiple times? You were turning into liquid jelly all at the masterful way he commanded your body. 

Stunna wiggled his tongue back and forth over your pussy, dipping his long tongue into your entrance before returning to your clit and becoming ruthless. He flicked his tongue faster and faster. Your tummy fluttered, getting tighter, twisting, toes curling.

“Look at me, pretty,” he demanded.

You whined as you looked to him for help. Stunna smirked. He watched you as he slobbered over your pussy, adding to your juices, and making your thighs slick. You caressed Stunna’s head, scratching his scalp.

Stunna moaned as you found a good spot, and he started to gyrate like he was already fucking into you. His arm jerked as you assumed he finally took himself into his own hands, tugging on his meat with a frenzied jerk. 

You came first, exploding on his tongue while screaming his name and shaking and twitching. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body shivering, light shooting behind your eyelids. 

“Stunna, Stunna, Stunna,” you hyperventilated. You needed mercy. You needed to tap out. But fuck, you were trying to make it to the finish line. Trying to be good so you could get a taste of that dick deep within your walls. You needed to get stretched out and disrespected. 

Stunna moaned as you shook on your way down from your orgasm. He wrapped up eating you out, slowing down, fewer and fewer licks. You were sensitive, twitching with every stroke of his tongue. 

“Stunna, please,” you rasped.

Stunna chuckled, standing up and wiping his dripping mouth. He smoothed your juices into his beard, letting you soak all of it. You licked your lips as you looked at him between half-lidded eyes. 

“Time to put in work, pretty,” he said. “You still with me?”

You nodded. “This is the best sex I’ve ever had,” you said. You were beyond feeling ashamed admitting that. You’d had some satisfying lays. Some not so much. But nothing, nothing, nothing compared to Stunna. That sexy smile. That deep voice. His natural manliness that only made you want to serve him. To give him whatever he wanted. To be his free use little whore who took his big dick whenever he needed to empty his balls. 

Stunna grinned, leaning over your overheated body. He kissed you. You tasted and smelled yourself on him. It only fueled you to gyrate against him. So needy already. He had been rocking your world all night and here you were begging for me. He hadn’t come once. Selfish, selfish, and yet, you continued to writhe your body against his. Silently pleading for him to go ahead and take you. 

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that? Perfect,” he whispered against your lips and went right back to kissing you. He kissed you like he ate you out, sloppy, desperate, and like it gave him absolute pleasure to feel your lips on his. 

Stunna stood up, and loosened the rest of his tie and slipped it over his head. He tossed it onto the floor and then went to work on his shirt, going through the buttons with unparalleled speed. He took the shirt off and you gasped, eyes widening to take in all of him.

He had an amazing, thick body. Broad shoulders. Lean hips. Legs for days. His chest rose and fell as he smirked, taking off his shoes, pants and briefs in one fell swoop. He snatched up his pants, pulling out his wallet and then pulling out a condom. You loved a prepared man. 

He took his time rolling the latex down his huge dick. You watched it glide further and further down to his base. He stepped back into the heat of your body, grabbing your hips to line you up properly. 

Stunna caressed your lips, thumb running across your kiss-swollen lips. “You can tell me to stop at any time,” he said. 

“I know,” you whispered and nodded, giving him that clear permission to do what needed done. 

Stunna grabbed his base and then guided himself inside, groaning at how you instantly gripped his dick. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. Fuck, he was gorgeous. His mouth hung open as he concentrated on your pussy, on fitting as much of him inside as he was able. 

He pulled out when he met resistance, plunging back in and getting deeper. He repeated the motion, letting you get used to his size. You pushed at his stomach. Not that you wanted him to stop. But fuck, you needed to hold onto something before you came apart at the seams. 

You took him more easily, all the prepwork well worth it. “Oh, oh, oh fuck,” you cried, sounds getting higher in pitch as he started to increase his strokes.

His hips moved in a roll, fucking into you. He gripped your hips, squeezing, punishing, as he continued on, slamming into your walls with enough force to shake the bed. He groaned as he found a deep rhythm, jackhammering inside your pussy. 

He moved his arms to brace himself on the bed, pushing your legs up in the process. You whimpered, looking at him. It was too much. Fuck, it was too much. And yet, it was not enough. Not nearly enough. 

“Oh Stunna, oh baby, oh fuck,” you moaned, throwing your head back against the mattress as you lost yourself to the throes of ecstasy. 

Stunna groaned. “Say it louder, pretty,” he said. He fucked and fucked, dropping his face to your chest and suckling your nipple through your bra. There was a wet heat on your chest but it wasn’t on your skin and it was driving you wild. You cried and begged, no longer aware of what you were saying.

You could be begging for the nastiest shit and you wouldn’t fucking know it. Not while he was hitting it so well. Not when he made sure to take care of you. He bit your nipple and pulled. 

Pressure built in your lower tummy, churning and twisting, until you gripped onto his shoulders and cried out again. This one had to be worse than the last. You whimpered as your left leg shook violently, spasms piercing your leg. Your choppy whine made you scrunch up and start crying, the orgasm too much for you. Feeling too good, to the point of pain. 

Stunna gripped your throat, hard enough to mean business, but light enough that you could escape if you wanted. You moaned, eyes in the back of your skull once more. “Squeezing my shit. You’re doing so well, pretty. So well. Pussy so juicy. So wet,” he moaned as he finally let himself go.

His tortured moan was music to your ears, face slack in relief, as his dick pulsed and throbbed inside. He felt even bigger, stretching you, splitting you open. 

Your harsh breaths matched his as he leaned to the side, on his elbow, while he slowly softened inside. You rubbed his shoulders and his back, almost ashamed of the scratches you must have left there. Soft enough, he pulled out with a choked moan. 

He kissed your skin, kissed your neck, leaving hot wet kisses up to your lips. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. 

You were spent. Blissed out. Fucked to within an inch of your life. All you could do was stare in a daze at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck just happened. Sure, you were there for the festivities, but you were at a loss. There were no thoughts in your head. No swirling, lingering worries about the conference or the lecture you had to give tomorrow. 

Stunna returned to the room, running a warm washcloth between your legs. You whimpered and slapped at his arm.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You made such a mess, pretty,” he cooed as he cleaned you up, flipping the washcloth and rubbing down your thighs as well. You felt so cherished. So in tune with him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Stunna chuckled. “No, thank you. I’ve never felt like that with anyone else,” he said. 

“Me neither,” you gushed and smiled. 

You couldn’t believe that your ho phase was starting at your big age but you were here for it. Here for more chances like this. You’d likely never see him again, long distance relationships never working out for anyone. You were too greedy. Too needy. You wanted to climb underneath whoever you were with and never come up for air. You couldn’t do that if the guy was halfway across the country. 

“Give me a minute or two to recover. I’m currently paralyzed,” you said and huffed a laugh.

Stunna laughed. He climbed onto the bed and helped you sit up further. You remained on your bed, staring up at him. He laid on his side, head on his hand and leaning against his elbow. He used his right hand to trail his fingers up and down your body, creating a lazy figure 8 pattern.

You talked well into the night, learning more and more about each other’s interests. You moved from video games, to books, to movies. When your yawns became too frequent, barely able to keep your eyes open, Stunna kissed both of your eyelids and ordered you to get under the covers.

He scooted in behind you after turning off the light. “I can leave if you want me to,” he offered.

You wiggled your ass against his front, dick fitting into the crook of your ass. He was huge even at rest. You sighed in deep contentment, snuggling into his heated chest. “Stay. I got plans for you,” you said.

Stunna chuckled and got more comfortable, pulling you into his body. He sighed as well, flexing his hand over your belly in a possessive way that made your heart skip. 

“Well, then, I have to stick around for these plans. Sneak peak?” He asked.

Your answering snores let him know that you were gone, off in dreamland. He chuckled and kissed your forehead, whispering good night and sending a quiet prayer to the universe, thanking it for bringing you to him. 

The end.

There's more Stunna! The Secret Big Stunna Files

[yeta-drewit]

Wenclair fic recommendations

I’ve read way too many. About 115.

Also all of this are finished fanfics. I believe.

Edit- yes this are all in ao3 and I did this at like 3 am so I didn’t put links and I’m too lazy to change it now.

MY TOP ONES

-Hunting season by gobreakaneck. OMG THIS FIC, a season 2 fic, angst to the max, slow burn to the max BUT REALLY GOOD SHIT. Like it’s good guys trust. Unfortunately it’s part one of a series so yk I was left crying for more at the end.

-Yours, Eurydice by hanjisgirlfriend- SAD AND CELEBRITY AU. Enid is an actor, Wednesday is a famous writer and they are neighbors and they share letters with pen names because they don’t want the public to know. ITS CUTE.

-I pledge to you (my blood and soul) by Whatiscolor. WRITER OF THIS FIC I WANT TO TROW HANDS. This is genuinely one of the saddest fics I’ve read. Forced marriage Au WITH A LOT OF ANGST. I’m not joking I cried. Angst was angsting.

-Purgatory would be beautiful with you by Emilywritesatuff- Just Wenclair stuff but Wednesday is kind of acting like a werewolf but she isn’t, it’s kind of like they are mates and Wednesday acts like it. I just like it.

-Christmas Eve(L) by miliamin- Fake dating and Christmas what else can I say?.

Weird Aus

-Let’s get political by WishaDream - Gomes and Esther are campaigning for the same government position. Esther tells Enid to hate Wednesday but she can’t. They hate each other in public but almost kiss in secret. Don’t let the weird au get you it’s actually really good. I like the political comments in between the actual Wenclair story.

- Just the taste of you/ blood in the water by littlebirdonair - another weird au but this time Wednesday is an assassin meant to kill journalist Enid. My best description of the story. Enid "I talked to an assassin Yoko" Yoko "omg girl!. Have you told the police?! How are even alive?!" Enid "Omg girl it was the hottest thing ever, she was so fucking hot" Yoko "wtf girl” (Warning there is one explicit scene. I skipped it as it was really short and I’m not interested in that)

-The Heart Knows No Death by viienrose - Enid is brutally murder by her pack and the Addams family can bring her back to life if she wishes to. Wednesday helps Enids soul process her death and the possibility of coming back. Sad shit but kind of cute Wenclair.

- Driving to my house in the middle of the night by AtomicJellyBean - Wednesday ghostbuster, Enid has existential crisis and is a park ranger and a very popular fanart comic came from this story.

-Strawberry and Lilacs by thislonelyrealm - not Nevermore high school au, Wednesday is new in town and Enid has live there her whole life (she also beats up Tyler). I made fanart of one scene.

- So this is love by LoriLoud- season 1 rewrite. lowkey insane and deranged. Not joking. I’m not rereading it so I may be remembering wrong but just so yk how crazy it is they kiss while Esther is literally burning. It gets so bad I think Yoko is the only survivor. Bad representation of the Addams family but a fun read.

-Parce que toi et moi, ca fonctionne (meme si ca ne devrait pas) by bogteats- Eurovision Song Contest AU. Enid is a French singer and gay, the Addams family is a Spanish band (my Mexican ass is sad they had to be Spanish) it’s a really cool celebrity au with Enid trying to hide she is gay. It’s not in French guys.

-The proposal (Wenclair’s Version) by NyxSmols- apparently is the 2009 movie The Proposal but make it Wenclair. Idk I haven’t seen the movie but the fic was cool. Honestly Enid was giving Debbie at the beginning of the fic and I’m all for that.

Normal AUs

-Vortex by Alotofconfusion- Wenclair childhood friend au. I think it’s cute. Enid is pretty much adopted by the Addams, no one believes Enid that she has a gf, they call each other business partners.

- Imprinting is such a bitch by King_boo - Season 1 rewrite where Enid imprints on Wednesday the moment they meet, so its season 1 if they both immediately liked each other. Slight gaslighting by Wednesday but she works on that.

- Like two Mismatched Pieces Put Together by ShadeNeverMadeAnybodyLessGay- Wenclair childhood soulmates. Enid is abandoned but adopted by the Addams. Just cute kids stuff.

-Cool about it by randomiska - they are in college and they are fake dating to stop their friends from trying to get them together. Obviously it backfires.

Normal ig?

- Everyone comes to Yoko’s by Sincerely_Sierra- Yoko gets the gays together. Yoko is stressed about the gays and she just wants them to stop bothering her.

- What does he have that I don’t? By Kofeew_milkk- Enid hates that Wednesday smells like Tyler. Cute scenting fic.

-Sweet nothings by Hymenopus- They simp for each other while being in opposites sides of the country. They exchange letters and gifts.

-San Francisco by bishopsinclair_(dustydandelions) - Set during the break, Wednesday goes to San Francisco and werewolf chaos ensues. Blood wolf stuff.

- Raven in the den, wolf in the nest by Barbara_lazuli- Fake dating to spite their moms, it’s really cute specially Enid and the Addams family. There are references to the animated movie, I love Parker.

-Downside of Visions by CelticWolf55- it’s a sick fic and it’s very cute.

To make yourself sad

-Bubble Gum bitch by wishadream - Celebrity AU. Depress actor Enid and assistant Wednesday that doubles as a therapist. They don’t end up together but it’s still cute.

- I’ll love you (from the shadows) by mickeroni -technically not a Wenclair story but it’s a Weems story about her being a sad gay for Morticia and projecting towards Wenclair. She goes to the wedding.

-You drive me crazy (baby) by Sincerely_Sierra- Yoko angst, Enid angst, everyone angst. It’s a taking care of a fake baby trope but what I thought would be like domestic fluff just made me sad. YOKO LOVERS READ THIS SHIT.

Fluff no plot

- It’s just a werewolf thing by WelshCakes68 - Enid blames her gayness on the fact she is a wolf, Wednesday is so whipped she accepts this excuse. Oblivious homosexuals.

Silly ones

- Woes of the Heart by 1unluckystudent - It’s just Enid crashing Wednesday’s and Tyler’s date and being like super jealous and really funny. This Enid behavior is what I want from Enid if Wednesday gets another love interest.

-Potion problems by batzeus99 - Switch personalities and it’s super cute and I think it’s like really funny seeing Wednesday act all happy. Enid just acts like Pip from AGGGTM.

- I’m your garbageman by cowardnthief - Wednesday asks Enid for help on a crush she has. Enid is the crush and she is also obviously to it.

- Black Butterfly by misscanteloupe- Wednesday is jealous and makes Enid hug her while Ajax watches. Wednesday just hates Ajax and I find it hilarious.

Parent fics (because I like this type of content)

-Werewolves made with woe by omnical - Podcasters try to investigate the Addams family. Enid gaslight them into going into the house and absolutely scares the shit out of them. Enid is scary but she is trying to protect her kids.

- Plans of Joy by southernsunrise- They try to have kids. It gets sad but trust it gets better. (Warning miscarriage)

-Double trouble by Pieck_Simp- Wenclair twins. Wenclair moms fighting prejudice against their kids.

Obviously what I like you may not like. Some of this are entertaining but not good representations of the characters. I understand some may have poor writing but it’s fanfics guys not a novel. I encourage you to think critically and not get influenced by this fanfics, not everything you read is good and a representation of good behavior, some of these have questionable behaviors that go unpunished because it’s a fanfic. So do keep that in mind and don’t base your behaviors solely on fan fiction.

[television-overload]

The Most Popular Man in D.C.

(X-Files Fanfic)

[read on AO3]

-.-.-

In the months after Scully is returned from her abduction, Mulder starts getting catcalled on the street on an almost daily basis. At first, he doesn't think much of it, but after a few weeks, he finds it odd enough to mention to her.

She walks into the basement to find him putting pins in a map of D.C., hunched over his desk in concentration.

"Mulder?" she asks with an amused look on her face, paused in the doorway with her eyebrow arched.

With a brief glance up at her, he asks, "Scully, do you think I'm attractive?" Her hand almost slips off the door handle.

Her mouth falls open to answer, but she has no clue what words might come out. What is it he's wanting her to say? He doesn't look like he's joking. In fact, he looks deadly serious.

"I–"

"I just mean, if you saw me on the street, would you—you know—whistle at me?"

His question startles a chuckle from her throat, loosening her tongue. "Whistle?" She stares at him incredulously. Where is this coming from?

"Yeah," he says. "Whistle, wave, shower me with unsolicited compliments?"

Normally, she might laugh, assuming this to be one of the goofy bits he does when he's in a good mood, but something genuinely seems to be concerning him.

"Why do you ask?" she says, brows furrowing as she enters the room fully, shutting the door behind her.

He puts another pin on the map, near the grocery store she knows he goes to near his apartment in Alexandria.

"Scully, in the last month or so, I've been catcalled by random women nearly every day, all over D.C." he begins. "On my run, at the gym, even once when I went to pick up more fish food at the pet store. All over."

"Catcalled, Mulder?" she asks.

"Yes!"

"Is that so unusual?"

His brows slant in clear concern. He needs her reassurance.

"Look, you're a... not wholly unattractive guy," she starts cautiously. "And these places—the gym, the park where you run... You'd be covered in sweat, wearing that— that sleeveless Knicks shirt you have..." She trails off, blushing profusely and hoping her hair conceals it.

"But, the PET store, Scully," he insists, thankfully too worked up to notice her pink cheeks. He gestures wildly at the map before him. "All of these pins are places where I remember it happening. All in the last month."

Oh boy. "Putting that eidetic memory to good use, I see," she says. She surveys his slightly manic appearance, gauging how worried she needs to be about his state of mind.

"There's a clear concentration in certain areas," he says, ignoring her comment. "Look: about four blocks from my apartment, see? There's a cluster of them, all near this corner."

She looks where he is pointing, and indeed, there are six pins huddled close to each other while others are more spread out.

"Do you have a theory?" she can't believe she asks.

"I was hoping you would," he says, a little defeated.

Well, if she's not about to be dragged into a wild goose chase investigation based on some theory he's concocted, then she's back to finding this entire situation hilarious again. "Why should I have a theory?" she asks, suppressing a smile as she crosses her arms and looks up at him.

"I don't know," he says, shrugging awkwardly. "You're a... a woman."

She rolls her eyes. "Thank you for noticing."

"No, but maybe you have some insight. A different perspective."

"Some kind of womanly intuition?" she asks doubtfully, challengingly.

"Well, yeah."

She purses her lips. She has no immediate answer for him, so the office falls silent. He slumps back into his chair, looking far more bedraggled than he ought to at just past 8:00 am.

No, Mulder, she doesn't have some insider secret about the female mind to explain this so-called phenomenon away, but... Man, that is a lot of pins on the map. All in the last month, he says?

Why are her toes tapping incessantly on the floor beneath the desk?

"Mulder," she starts, hardly believing the words that are about to come out of her mouth. "If you're that worried about it, maybe we should go check out some of these areas of concentration."

He looks up at her, just as surprised to hear the suggestion come from her lips.

"Really?"

She wants to roll her eyes again, but there's a knot of something she refuses to acknowledge as jealousy in her chest that prevents her from doing so.

"Only if you're that concerned," she says, hoping she sounds firm and not at all interested in why her partner is getting hit on by women left and right.

He fumbles his way to his feet, stabbing himself in the palm with a pin accidentally in the process. He curses under his breath and shakes his hand out while eagerly shoving his arm in his jacket sleeve. "Okay," he says. "I think we should start by my gym, that's where it happens the most."

"Fine," she agrees stiffly, trying not to picture him breathless after a workout and surrounded by his loving admirers.

She drives, because she needs something to do with her hands. He navigates. It's his steps they're retracing, after all. He knows best what direction they need to head in.

They park on the street, exiting the car and getting a feel of their surroundings.

"There's my gym," he points out. She's not exactly sure what they're looking for, but she keeps her eyes peeled all the same.

After a few minutes spent wandering near the entrance, she's about to call it quits, but then a muscular little brunette calls out from across the street, grinning from ear to ear as she shouts, "Woo! I'd pay your dry cleaning bill just to watch you work out in that suit, handsome!"

Before either of them has time to respond, or even come to terms with what just happened, the woman disappears into a storefront. A yoga studio, Scully deduces from the sign out front.

"See?" Mulder says, swinging his hand out toward the other side of the street. The suddenness of his speech startles her out of her tense posture, and she forces her shoulders to relax.

"I give her points for creativity," she says, marching primly back to the car and throwing the driver's side door open.

The next place they drive is the grocery store, just a stone's throw away from his apartment building. Once again, she parks, and they wander about, but this time, their fellow pedestrians are blissfully silent. She looks around. There's the grocery store. Beside it, a pawn shop. On the other side, a place selling herbal supplements... and possibly also other "herbal" remedies. RadioShack across the street. Not much going on at—she checks her watch—8:47 am.

"Notice anything unusual?" she asks, watching as an older couple hobbles into the grocery store arm-in-arm.

His shoulders lift in a shrug. "It's quieter than usual," he says. "I'm not usually here this early on a week day."

She nods. This stop might have been a bust, but at least she didn't have to hear another cheesy one-liner directed at Mulder.

They're not so lucky at the next, and—she decides—final stop.

About a block down from the coffee shop in Georgetown that he frequents when he has to wake her at an ungodly hour, two women loiter outside a shop advertising high-quality tattoos and piercings. One takes a drag from her cigarette, then calls out, "Let's see a smile on those pouty lips!" The other woman chuckles, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

Mulder gives an awkward smile and nod in their direction, and Scully promptly grabs him by the arm, ushering him hurriedly back to the car.

She stews in silence on the drive back to the Hoover building. She knows she has no right to do so, and yet...

"You see what I mean, Scully?" he asks. "You gotta agree that something's unusual."

Does she? He's an attractive man. YES, okay, she's attracted to him. Can she fault other women for noticing? Maybe they could do to keep their mouths shut and leave him alone, sure, but wouldn't most men kill to have that kind of attention given to them?

"I don't know," she answers, her hands gripping the wheel.

"I'm serious. I've lived here for years, and this has never happened before. Then all of a sudden..."

"You're reading too much into it," she snaps. Then, softening her tone, "I mean, if they won't leave you alone, tell them to back off. Tell them you're an FBI agent and can arrest them for harrassment."

"Scully..."

"It's not an X-File, Mulder," she says decisively. "We've missed enough work as it is. Just forget about it."

His jaw shifts like he's about to argue her point, but instead he says the words she's always longed to hear from him.

"You're probably right."

-.-.-

She tries to forget about it.

On Thursday, he cheekily informs her that he had been called a "handsome devil" that morning while stopping by the bank. Friday, the descriptive term is decidedly less work-friendly, but he saunters in looking quite pleased with himself.

Gee, she sure is glad she told him not to worry about all the attention he's getting. Now, he actually seems to be enjoying it.

The weekend can't come soon enough. At 5:00 on the dot, she bids goodbye to his boyish smile and wishes him a good weekend. At home, she finishes off half a bottle of wine and watches some trashy reality TV until it's bedtime, and she promptly passes out.

-.-.-

Saturday, she wakes up feeling stupid. After popping a few advil, she deep cleans her kitchen, tossing out the now empty bottle of wine and even dusting on top of her cabinets, a task that requires standing precariously on the countertop with a featherduster in hand.

As the clock ticks closer to noon, though, she begrudgingly pulls herself away from her work and readies herself for her afternoon commitment with her sister. On the way to Melissa's dumpy—temporary—apartment, she picks up lunch from her favorite Chinese place. It's been months since Melissa came to town. She's not the kind to stay put in one place for long. If Scully hadn't been abducted, or whatever it was that happened to her, Missy wouldn't have been there in the first place.

The apartment is one she'd found on short notice when she heard what had happened, and came to support their mother throughout the ordeal. It pays by the month, and has a serious ant problem in the kitchen, but otherwise isn't the absolute worst living situation Scully could fathom. She liked having her sister nearby, even if it was only for a while.

Now, the ceaseless call of adventure summons Melissa once more, and it is time to go. Scully had promised to help her pack her things this weekend, and now the day is here.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" she asks, loathing how the sentence makes her sound like her 15 year old self when Missy had first left home for her first (and only) year of college.

"You don't need me, Dana," her sister says. "Besides, you know I can only handle so much of Mom telling me what I should be doing with my life."

"She means well," Scully assures her.

"I know she does," Missy says with a smile. "And I know you're no stranger to doing the complete opposite of what she tells you, too."

Scully breathes out a laugh.

"Come on, help me take these boxes down to the moving truck." Melissa shucks her jacket off, tying it around her waist in preparation for the physical labor it would take to carry multiple loads of boxes down four flights of stairs. One of the worst features of this apartment building is it's permanently broken elevator. Moving in must have been a nightmare.

Bending to pick up her first box, Scully catches a glimpse of something on Missy's right wrist, visible now that her jacket has come off.

"What's that?" she asks, brows furrowing.

"Hmm?" her sister asks. Her eyes follow Dana's to the marking on her skin on the underside of her arm. "Oh, I got that while you were in the hospital. You're like 90% of my impulse control, Dana."

Her teasing tone does not negate the heaviness that comes from mentioning that horrific time for her family. That time when she was all but lost to all those who knew her.

"What is it?" she asks.

Missy sets her box back down, and Scully does the same. "Check it out," she says, drawing closer so Scully can see.

On her wrist is a small cross tattoo, remarkably similar in shape and size to the cross Scully wears around her neck.

Strange. She's fairly certain Melissa hasn't been to mass in years, much to their mother's chagrin.

"Why?" she asks, genuine confusion lacing her voice.

"Don't go all 'Mom' on me, Dane," Missy jokes, smacking her in the shoulder. "It's just a tattoo."

Scully shakes her head. "No, I mean, why that? Why a cross?"

"Oh." Melissa looks down at her wrist in thought, then back up at Dana. "It just... seemed to be the thing to do."

"Something to remember me by?" Scully tries to joke, though she's aware of how morbid that sounds, to live to see the way her sister planned to memorialize her.

"Actually, no," Melissa corrects. "It was your partner."

Huh?

"Mulder?" Scully asks, wondering how on earth her necklace—the symbol of Christianity—relates to her unbelieving partner.

"Yeah, it was— Look, it's not really my place to tell, but I saw the way he relied on that necklace of yours for strength while you were gone. Not once did I see him take it off. It was like, if he didn't let go of it, then he wasn't letting go of you. I admire that."

Scully still doesn't understand. "So, the tattoo..."

"Is a reminder to have hope," Melissa finishes. "To have that same belief in others that Fox had for you, even when things looked hopeless and we almost gave up."

Scully's heart twists painfully.

This marking on her sister's body is tangible proof of what Scully has known all along:

That her partner is something special. That his uncommon belief in the unbelievable leaves an impact, not just on her, but on others whom he interacts with.

She still finds it hard to fathom that there had been weeks and months where Mulder was out there, spending time with her mother and sister while she was missing, or lying comatose on a hospital bed.

"When you came back, and when you got better, I knew it was him that saved you," Missy says softly, as if she can hear her thoughts and doesn't want to disrupt them. "I know it's him."

Her sister's piercing eyes meet hers seriously, and she turns away, lifting the box back into her arms to serve as a distraction.

"We don't want to keep the movers waiting," she says, forcing her thoughts away from Mulder. Away from the dangerous thoughts that had filled her head all week.

Missy's eyes brighten, and she grins.

"Don't keep him waiting," she warns.

-.-.-

Scully hands her sister the last of the boxes, and Missy stands up in the back of the truck, brushing the dust off her hands with a satisfied sigh.

"That's the last of it," she says proudly. "Oh, wait—"

She turns quickly, rummaging through a few boxes before triumphantly extracting a small piece of paper.

"Here, give that back to Fox, will you?" she says, handing it to Scully.

"What's this?" she asks, turning the glossy paper in hand to look at it properly.

In her hand, she holds a photo of Mulder from one of the times he'd been locked up on trespassing charges that ultimately wouldn't hold. He'd gotten a kick out of getting his mugshot taken, and so had requested a copy of it upon his release, and the small sheriff's department in Idaho had granted his wish.

But why did Melissa have it?

"I stole it from his apartment," she says, answering her unspoken question. "Made some copies, spread them around."

"You— you did what with them?"

"Just gave them to some friends," she says, smirking as she plops down on the edge of the truck bed. "You know I make friends wherever I go."

"Yeah, but why?"

The conspiratorial smile on her sister's face comes straight out of their childhood.

"Has Fox been getting an unusual amount of attention when walking around D.C. lately?" she asks nonchalantly, concealing a wider grin.

"Missy, you didn't!" Scully says, her jaw dropping.

"You didn't see him, Dane! He needed a pick-me-up!" Melissa raises her hands in defense, smiling at her sister's reaction.

Scully scoffs, but only to prevent a burst of astonished laughter from escaping. "A pick-me-up, not someone to pick him up," she says in as chastising a voice as she can manage.

Only Melissa would do something like this. She should have known.

"So it did work after all," Missy surmises. "Good. He needed a confidence boost. Has his ego inflated terribly?"

This time, Scully does laugh. "Sure, maybe after he got over the paranoia of suddenly being the most popular man in Washington, D.C."

"I guess it would come as a shock," Missy says, eyes bright with mirth.

Scully smacks her sister in the arm. "He was convinced it was some kind of conspiracy!"

"Oh, well," Missy says. "The real conspiracy is how you won't hit on that man yourself."

She's going to miss her sister, she reminds herself. Just be glad she's been in town this long.

Nope. She still wants to throttle her.

She shakes her head.

"Melissa..."

-.-.-

The compliments—because Scully refuses to call them catcalls—continue for the next few months, though with decreasing frequency.

After thinking it over for the weekend, she decides not to tell him. Maybe some day, years from now, when they can laugh about it.

For now, she lets other women say her thoughts aloud, and delights in the way his cheeks turn rosy when she's with him to hear their cheesy pick-up lines.

She wonders how she didn't notice before, the way these women look just like people Melissa would hang around with. Choker necklaces around their necks, Doc Martin shoes... Mulder was onto something with his map. The gym: across the street from a yoga studio that Missy had gone to a few times. The herbal supplement place, one that Missy had definitely stopped by on occasion. The tattoo parlor. Self-explanatory.

Now that she's in on the secret, whenever it happens, it's like Missy is there for a second. It makes her feel less far away. She thinks of these women being handed a photocopied flyer with Mulder's face on it, and wonders what on earth Missy had specifically told them to do.

Whatever it was, it had been effective.

Funny. She never really pictured introducing her sister to her partner, but now she wonders how she didn't see it before. She's glad Missy stepped in to look after him while she was gone, even if it involved a prank of questionable taste. She wouldn't have expected any less from her sister. And maybe that was just what Mulder needed.

She tells him at the funeral.

It's too early to find the humor in it, like she'd hoped they would someday. But his lips do curl into a small smile. Remembering.

It still happens on occasion after that. And when it does, Mulder takes Scully's hand and whispers, "See? She's never really gone."

Melissa Scully had left her mark on Washington, D.C., even in the short time she'd been there. She left her mark on Mulder in the same way.

Years down the line, when the number of Mulder's admirers has dwindled to one, Scully lies awake, picturing his face as he whispered sweet words to her. His constant. His touchstone.

"You were right, Missy," she breathes into the still air of her lonely apartment. Sometimes it feels haunted by her ghost. Tonight, that brings her comfort. "You were right."

She thinks she hears the echo of a sultry whistle.

-.-.-

Tagging: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @teenie-xf

[perpetualexistence]

Alenoah Hypnosis Corruption AU, where after Alejandro hears Noah call him an 'eel dipped in grease', Alejandro makes a deal with Noah... If Noah lets Alejandro hypnotize him into not saying the truth about Alejandro to anyone again, then Noah won't get eliminated... However if Noah refuses to get hypnotized, then Alejandro will hypnotize Owen instead, after Noah's elimination... Noah hesitantly agrees to be placed in a trance by Alejandro... Alejandro tells the hypnotized Noah to be loyal to Alejandro! 🍥

So, funny story anon. I don't really have any more ideas I could add to this lovely idea you've presented...because you've accidentally (I hope) recreated the wheel.

You've also accidentally awoken the essayist that has realized she has the opportunity to share things she knows. So, with that in mind:

(I don't mean for Lisa to be mad. I am genuinely excited to share these things with people who potentially don't know them. I just couldn't find a better meme.)

Feel free to read under the read more for fanfic recs followed by my own personal thoughts about the Alenoah hypnosis corruption and why I love it so. I'm basing my knowledge on what I've seen on Tumblr and on Ao3. If you feel like I've missed anything, please let me know!

First the elephant in the room: the horny fics.

Yes, the earliest examples of Alejandro using hypnosis on Noah were smut. No, I'm not about to link them for what I would hope to be obvious reasons.

To be clear, I've got no problem with people who do have hypnosis as a kink. Everyone's allowed to have or not have a kink so long as it doesn't hurt anybody. To each their own so long as consent's involved.

The problem only starts when you do things like bringing minors into the mix. For what, again, I hope are obvious reasons.

Hypnosis is something that can be used as a great plot device when used for non-horny reasons too, and that's the context we're looking at them here.

So now onto the more palatable dark, horrible things you can do with hypnosis! /aff

The one who started the most recent trend was Creative_Creatures with their fic To Reach New Heights. It's a NoCo fic they started in November 2023 and was discontinued in April 2024.

Alejandro tricks Noah into letting himself get hypnotized, and Noah starts getting more and more corrupted as he grapples with his sense of self and the version of himself Alejandro is imposing on him. Cody starts noticing something's up, and Alien Cody also gets involved in the plot.

There are some moments of OOCness that the author has admitted to. They've also stated that they no longer like the work, hence the fic being discontinued. However, I still think it's worth checking out at the very least as a fic to learn from. It still deserves the credit for being the first to try tackling the subject, even if the result didn't end up as expected.

After Creative-Creatures came Total-drama-brainrot, aka Ophe. For Ophe there's actually a linear timeline for how their fic, Snap, Crackle, and Pop, came to be.

The seed started on January 14th, where Ophe made a stray comment about how the fandom doesn't really address the fact that Alejandro hypnotized Owen, and received a response regarding the negative side effects of hypnotism that Owen could have hypothetically dealt with: https://www.tumblr.com/total-drama-brainrot/739512421490835456/i-was-thinking-more-along-the-lines-of-how-messing

About a month later, Ophe made a seemingly random ask regarding how one would write hypnosis. I may or may not have a footnote in this history as I made a comment regarding To Reach New Heights: https://www.tumblr.com/total-drama-brainrot/741634477880754176/how-the-fuck-am-i-supposed-to-write-hypnosis

A day later they unleashed Snap, Crackle, and Pop, a fic where Alejandro convinces Noah to make a bet regarding hypnosis, and takes advantage of Noah's forced compliance from then on. Though Noah is by no means helpless and finds his own ways to fight back.

The fic only has three chapters written so far with no clear idea of when the next chapter will release. Still, I highly recommend it for the writing and the exploration of the concept.

About a week later, Ayawilliams came into the picture. For those of you who don't know who Ayawilliams is, I'm going to assume you're new to the fandom. In which case, hi! Glad to have you here! They've been shipping Alenoah as far back as 2016 on Fanfiction.net from what I can tell. This was way before it started taking over as the main ship in 2021. They're still consistently writing fic every few days, and through all of this have made a name for themselves on AO3.

If you look through the comments for the first chapter of Snap, Crackle, and Pop you can see that AyaWilliams definitely did take note of the hypnosis fic, and of To Reach New Heights. Almost a week later they delved into their first foray into hypnosis fic: Passive. (Though the main inspiration for the fic is credited to a role-reversal genderswapped fic called Hexxed by lonelybrachiobrute (triceratroops)).

Passive's a role reversal one-shot where Noah is actually the one hypnotizing Alejandro to be better at the competition for just a small, tiny price.

AyaWilliams liked the idea so much they made a sequel fic set in the same universe during the London episode called Unrecognized Yearnings.

The hypnosis trend of fic came full circule on March 5, 2024 when AyaWilliams wrote A little persuasion. After London, Alejandro threatens Noah into letting Alejandro hypnotize him or else he'd do it to Owen.

Since that fic, there haven't been any new additions to the hypnosis trend for Alenoah.

Which I think is a shame, because I do rather like hypnosis as a plot device. It's a branch of mind control that needs one party to trust the other in order for it to work. It's an exploration of power dynamics, and how they can be exploited and taken advantage of.

And although none of these fics explore it, I also like considering the other side of hypnosis. With the idea that the trust is warranted, and the hypnotizer uses a power that could so easily destroy and corrupt to instead help the hypnotizee achieve a state of calm and peace they didn't know was possible. Or to help them work past their own inner demons by detaching in a safe way, with the ability to ground themselves to come to a better understanding of themselves.

Or as another, more specific, certainly not something I have in mind for one of my own AUs example: Having Alejandro who starts off with using hypnosis merely to get what he wants from people, only to transition as he grows as a person to use it to do something like bring a certain cynic out of a dissociative state induced by personal trauma. And possibly becoming open to the idea of allowing said cynic that same amount of power over him, creating a more balanced relationship founded on trust between the two.

But you didn't hear that example from me.

Hypnosis can be used in multiple ways, and how specific characters use it and react to it speaks so much about who they are as a person. Every way is neat, and I hope to see more of it!

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk.

[olderthannetfic]

Update on the Bridgerton stuff: the online fandom is so homophobic and horrible, and the mods of stuff like the main subreddit refuse to do anything about it (but will remove comments by people upset about the homophobia for "generalizing") that LGBTQ+ fans have had to make their own spaces. There's a whole separate subreddit that bans homophobia called r/bridgertonlgbt, and of course the ones from the main one keep trying to get it banned with false reports by accusing them of "heterophobia" and "doxxing" (re: complaining about their homophobic comments in their own spaces). Assholes who are mad about them making a straight romance from the books lesbian in the show are also doing petitions and flooding like every Instagram post including one by the original author about how she was initially skeptical about such a big change from her books but she's had lots of talks with the showrunners and she trusts them, and has always supported greater diversity in the series. People keep misusing that stupid fucking George R.R. Martin quote (about how creators these days don't do anything original but just warp other people's existing works) when he himself has condemned "the show must be exactly like the books" fan attitudes, especially the racist tantrums around House of the Dragon casting a couple years ago. And on a post by the author HERSELF where she explains why she gave the go-ahead, supports these changes, and condemns homophobia in the fandom! How is she "warping" her own work???

I've heard about this all secondhand from my friend and it just makes me so glad I don't go on Insta or Reddit and instead keep my fandom activities to Tumblr or AO3. Where for all the drama over other things, at least this kind of rancid homophobia you get in spaces where everyone is cis and straight feels entitled to only ever consume straight and cis romance stories (they'll claim they "are okay with gay characters but new ones!" but their example is always like a side character who has an unhappy ending, can you really not get why queer fans are not satisfied with that?) at least that's not so much a thing here. Instead I'll be happily writing Francesca/Michaela and Benedict/male characters slash and ignoring and blocking the haters. And remembering that that show has way more fans than use social media and everyone involved is continuing to refuse to listen to the loud idiots online. Like everyone I talk to about it who isn't super online, most of whom are straight women, think the change is really cool and can't wait to see what they do with it. Some of them have read the books, but most have not.

But god, it just seems like toxicity from top to bottom over there. I really wish a lot of the straight women fans would just admit they don't like a lesbian romance because there's no one for them to find hot. And maybe consider why it's not a big fucking ask to "find something relatable" in gay romances, like gay people have had to do with straight ones for all time. Why must we continue doing that but you're entitled to whatever you want all the time? It's just so weird to see these attitudes still and in fandom in 2024!

--

These attitudes never went away.

On the fanfic side of things, the slashers just happen to have built the currently-popular platform, so the haters have to deal.

[sequinsmile-x]

Better

Ordinary.

The way her mother says it makes it sound like poison, like something that was infiltrating her life and tearing it apart from the inside out. An awful, ugly thing instead of the beautiful thing that tied her life together like the finest gold thread.

-x-

Hi friends,

If you haven't seen it, I've been getting more anon hate than usual recently, almost entirely around the fact pregnancy/Emily having a family with Aaron is a common them in my fics and how they hate that I write about it. Instead of just...seeing the tags and moving on they've been sending me anons criticising me for it. This culminated in me getting a message yesterday that sent me into orbit saying I was making Emily 'mediocre' by making her a mother like other 'mediocre' women.

(you can read the anon here if you haven't and want to it is WILD)

Now, whatever your feelings are about fanfic or characterisation of Emily, calling someone mediocre for their choices, implying that wanting whatever they want is bad, is ridiculous behaviour.

I've had a lot of feelings about it all day, and ending up writing this to get it out because that is how I process things.

As always, let me know what you think.

-x-

Warnings: Lots and lots of mommy issues

Words: 3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

From the moment her mother had suggested it, Emily had wanted to get out of going to lunch. Elizabeth insisted that she came over to the event she was hosting with some of her old friends, claiming the other women hadn’t seen Emily in years and that they wanted to catch up. She’d struggled to come up with a good reason to get out of it, even praying for a case that meant she’d be out of stage, something Aaron had raised an eyebrow at.

“You’re praying someone has killed enough people that the team needs to get involved?” 

She’d rolled her eyes at him and huffed, all too aware that he was right, and she’d kissed his cheek as she left the house just before midday, her gaze lingering on him and the kids as they settled down to play their favourite game. 

Lunch was, overall, boring. It was a reminder of a life she’d left behind, the one she’d been born into where every word was carefully chosen yet most the time people said absolutely nothing at all. Their words meaningless, full of fluff and inflexions that she hated. False interest in each other's lives as they desperately waited for someone to ask about them. 

She barely says anything, slowly eating her salad and humming intermittently so it seems like she’s listening, until one of her mother’s friends, Carol, gets her attention. 

“So, what are you up to these days, Emily? Your Mother says you’re still working for the FBI?” 

Emily nods, “Yeah, I work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit, the BAU. My husband used to as well but he retired when our daughter was born three years ago.” 

It had been Aaron’s decision, a solution he’d come up with when they found out she was pregnant with Hazel. He’d been keen to do it, unmoveable in his insistence, his eyes bright and almost overflowing with desperation, as if this was his second chance to make the right decision for his family. She’d agreed, after some back and forth, a voice in the back of her head telling her she’d be a bad mom if she went back to work when she didn’t strictly need to, something Aaron and her friends had slowly talked her out of over the long nine months of her pregnancy. 

Leaving the FBI herself was something she considered again when she had Oliver only 8 months ago, but once again she’d stayed. Happy with the balance she’d created, the life she’d built around herself that let her be Agent Prentiss, a member of one of the most well respected teams in the FBI, and Emily, a wife and mother. 

“Oh yes,” Carol says, picking up her cup of tea, “You have children.”

“Three,” Emily says, her back straightening at something she picks up in the other woman’s tone, a little too close to judgment for her liking, “Jack, Hazel and Oliver.” 

“Lovely names,” Carol says, “Although I must say I was surprised when Elizabeth told us you’d settled down and had children, it wasn’t that long ago it looked like you’d be following in her footsteps and trailblazing yourself a career.” 

Emily frowns, her teeth clenched as she takes a second to calm herself down, “I do still have a career, I just happen to have children too.” 

“Yes well,” Carol says, waving her hand, “You know what they say - a jack of all trades, a master of none.” 

She scoffs, looking to her mother for support, immediately wondering why she thought she’d find it when Elizabeth avoids eye contact with her, a fake smile painted across her face as she stands up from the dining table, “I’ll go check on dessert.” 

Emily stays behind after the others leave, barely even attempting to be polite as she exchanges goodbyes with them. As soon as it’s just her and her mother she can’t help herself, the question escaping before she can ask herself if she would even get an answer she’d want. 

“Why didn’t you stand up for me when she was saying all those things?” She asks, her arms crossed over her chest as Elizabeth freezes and sighs. 

“I wasn’t going to cause a scene,” she says, standing up to walk over to the small bar cart in the living room, pouring herself a scotch, “And besides, she didn’t say anything rude.” 

Emily laughs, “She didn’t say anything rude? She basically said because I’m working and I’m a mom I’m not doing well at either of those things,” she scoffs and shakes her head, “She may as well have called me mediocre and be done with it.” There’s a pause, a flash of something across her mother’s face that she’s sure she wouldn’t have seen if she wasn’t so good at her job. For a moment, she wishes she wasn’t, that she didn’t feel the drop of her heart into her stomach as her arms fall to her sides, “Wait….do you agree with her?” 

Elizabeth stares at her for a second, as if weighing up her options, and she takes a sip of her drink, “Well, you did love to travel when you were younger, Emily. I always assumed you’d do a job that took you all over the world. It wasn’t until you started dating Aaron I ever thought you’d settle down and have an ordinary life.” 

Ordinary.

The way her mother says it makes it sound like poison, like something that was infiltrating her life and tearing it apart from the inside out. An awful, ugly thing instead of the beautiful thing that tied her life together like the finest gold thread. It was something she never thought she’d have. The house and the husband and the children. The cat that never used the cat flap they had installed, happy to curl up at the end of one of the kid's beds instead of ever venturing outside. The school drop-offs and the PTA meetings and the last-minute rush to the grocery store for ingredients for cooking class when Jack told them about it at the last possible second. It was normal, and ordinary and hers. And it was everything she had fought for. 

It was everything she had died for. 

Emily had let a lot slide over the last few years, let countless comments go about herself and sometimes even Aaron because Elizabeth loved her grandchildren. What she’d lacked in being a mother she made up for as a grandmother. She bought them gifts that they actually liked, she listened to them. On Hazel’s first birthday, she’d crawled into the playhouse they’d bought the little girl, acting so unlike herself that Emily had thought she was seeing things. She was grateful her children had someone else in their lives who loved them, so she put up with the fact her mother had never loved her like that. 

All of that disappears as Elizabeth’s words wash over her. A quiet, almost dull, confession that hangs in the air around them a bitter pill that erases any good nature Emily had for her mother. 

She chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, turning away to wipe angry tears from her cheeks, “I’ve got to ask, Mother,” she says, turning back to look at her, her hands thrown up in defeat, “Why did you even have me? If you think me having children is so…ordinary, why did you have a kid?” 

Elizabeth sighs, her hands on her hips, “Emily-”

“Was it because it was what was expected? You and Dad weren’t as careful as you should have been? What was it?” She demands, not sure she even wants the answer, the sadness and fury rolling in her gut in a way that makes nausea burn up her throat. The silence they fall into is suffocating. Thick and cloying as it settles in Emily’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. She looks down at the floor, her arms tight over her chest as she presses her lips together, desperately trying to hold herself together, “I have a good life.” 

“I never said you didn’t,” Elizabeth says, “I only said I’d thought you’d make different choices.”

“Do you mean better?” Emily asks, her glare unrelenting, and Elizabeth simply looks away, her silence the only answer Emily needs. 

It seems ridiculous. Absurd in a way that makes her laugh, because she can’t imagine how life could be better. She knows that if she’d made different choices, if she’d taken Clyde up on his offer of a job and a new life she would have enjoyed it. She would have been fulfilled and happy but it would have been different to what she had now. Another life she’d now never know, something she couldn’t compare to the life she did have because it didn’t exist and never had. She had no regrets, could never regret even for a second choosing this over anything else. It was her life. Her beautiful, ordinary, life. 

Anger and sadness and everything in between swell in her gut again, making her stomach roll as she clenches her fists at her sides. The burn of her short nails into her palm is familiar, and for a moment she’s 12 years old standing opposite her mother in her office, her nails digging into her palms as she’s told off for not acting as she should have, for getting grass stains on a skirt that cost more than most people made in a month. She shakes it off, an unsteady breath caught in her chest as she’s brought back to the present, to standing in a room just down the hall from her mother’s office over 30 years older and somehow just as silently crushed as she had been when she was a kid. 

It was a feeling she’d promised herself she’d never inflict on her own children. A mantra that had started years before she had them, when she was just a kid herself with her hand pressed into her lower belly as the medication she’d been given by the doctor started to work. She’d be better. She told herself again and again that one day, when it was right, she’d be a mother and she’d be better. It’s a promise she made Declan when he slept up against her on the nights when Ian wasn’t there, his fear of his father pressed against her neck as he asked her if he was in trouble again. She makes the same promise to Jack when she realises she’s stepped into a maternal role in his life, her relationship with him so tied up in her relationship with Aaron that it feels like it happens overnight. She’d be better. She says it again to Hazel just a few hours after she’s born, and again with Oliver when she holds him for the first time. She’d be better.

She was better. She knew that. Her children ran towards her, not away, when they were sad or hurt or sick. They sought her out, snuck into her embrace at any given moment, slipping under her arm as she sat on the couch and they should already have been in bed. Aaron often joked he could disappear and no one would notice, something she’d always quickly refute, the idea of him not being right by her side enough to make her shudder. 

“Better than what? A man who loves me the way Aaron does? Than my children?” Her voice cracks and she clenches her teeth to try to steady her lower lip, “For the first time my life is normal, Mom. I go to work, I come home. I spend my evenings helping my kids with homework and driving them to recitals. And then I share a glass of wine with my husband because I’m still breastfeeding Ollie and don’t want to risk a whole glass. Then we get into bed and do it all over again the next day. It’s so ordinary it makes me ache sometimes because it’s all I ever wanted when I was growing up,” she growls in frustration when tears slip onto her cheeks and she wipes them away immediately, “My life might be small to you, but to me it’s perfect and I am the happiest I have ever been,” she swallows thickly, pushing down the emotions she refuses to set free until she’s home. Until she’s with her husband - the only person she’d ever truly feel comfortable falling apart in front of. “I’m going home.”

“Emily, there’s no need to be so upset,” Elizabeth says as Emily turns away, an edge of panic in her voice she had only heard a handful of times, “We can talk about this.” 

“No,” she refuses, already turning and walking away, “We can’t. I’m going home.” 

She’s proud of herself for making it to the car before the tears come in earnest, burning hot with fury as they leave what feels like permanent tracks on her skin.

___ 

She can’t bring herself to get out of the car. 

She sits on the driveway, still buckled long after she’s switched off the engine, her hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel. Even though she’s staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the porch that she loves, she doesn’t see the front door open and her husband wander outside. It’s only when he lightly raps on the window, making her jump and pulling her out of her trance, that she realises he’s there. She unlocks the door but makes no other effort to move. He pulls it open and crouches down, his face level with hers. 

“Where are the kids?” She asks, her voice tight even to her own ears, any chance she has of insisting she is fine dead and gone before she can even try. 

“Ollie is napping,” he says, waving the baby monitor he has held in his hand, “Good thing we get reception out here. And Jack is showing Hazel how to play MarioKart.” 

She nods, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as she tries to hold herself together, her eyes already burning with tears because of his proximity, “Good.” 

They lapse into silence and he watches her carefully, the tightness to her expression extreme even for an afternoon spent with her mother. He places his hand on her knee and squeezes, “I’m guessing because of your general demeanour, and the fact you’ve been sat out here for almost 20 minutes, that lunch went off without a hitch.”

She laughs. It’s wet and painful as it catches on her ribs, the force of it making tears splash down onto her cheeks and she nods, wiping them away, “Something like that.” 

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, always sure to give her the option, and she nods, “Okay, well let's go sit on the porch,” he says, reaching over her to unbuckle her belt, “I don’t think my knees could take crouching like this much longer.” 

She nods and lets him lead her out of the car, passing him the keys so he can lock it. They sit on the top step leading up to the porch, both of them looking out at the neighbourhood they loved, and he waits her out. Let her figure out what he was going to say, his shoulder pressed against hers as she tries to navigate the emotions swirling through her body, making her dizzy even though she was sitting down.

“She called me ordinary.” 

It’s so left of field, so out of nowhere, it takes him a second to react. His eyebrows furrowing as he turns to look at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to look straight ahead, “What?” 

“Mother she…” she clears her throat, “Well one of her friends did first. Said she was surprised I’d settled down and had kids. After she left I made the stupid decision to ask Mom why she didn’t defend me,” she laughs mirthlessly at herself, “I don’t know what I was expecting,” she finally turns to look at him, her eyes briefly meeting his before she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them, “Anyway, turns out she agreed. She thought I’d do more with my life than get married and have kids I guess.”

Angry doesn’t even come close to explaining how he feels. Fury that had once burned the walls of his childhood home, leaving the wallpaper singed and smoke damaged, burning in his lungs. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes in a deep breath, and pushes the anger away for now, knowing it’s not what she needs. 

“She’s wrong.” 

She looks up at him and smiles, shifting so her head is on his shoulder, “I know she’s wrong,” she says, curling her arms around one of his, “I love our life. I love that it’s as normal as it can be with everything we’ve been through. It’s almost extraordinary in how ordinary it is” she sniffs, turning her head to kiss him through his shirt, “If anything, I think I feel bad for her.” 

He frowns, resting his cheek on top of her head, letting her melt into his side, “Oh yeah?”

She hums, “I’m sad she can’t see the beauty in it,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “And that she probably never will.” 

He cups her cheek and leans in to kiss her, his forehead against hers as he pulls back, “That’s her loss,” he says, kissing her again, “I’m sorry, baby. It can’t be nice having your own mother say that.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head, swallowing thickly, “No. It isn’t,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “But I’ll do better than her. I’ll always think our kids are amazing no matter what they do with their lives,” her lips shake and her eyes close, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks that he wipes away immediately, “I’ll do better.” 

He’s heard her say it before. A whisper against Jack’s forehead after she’d read him a story until he fell asleep. A promise to a newborn Hazel and then Oliver a few years later. He wraps his arms around her, gathers her against his chest as she sinks into him, his lips against her hairline as he replies. 

“You already are, sweetheart,” he says, “You already are.” 

-x-

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[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

"I didn't think [we] would get this far"

@summer-of-bad-batch prompt week 11 (sorry I tweaked the wording slightly to make it fit the story ^^;)

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters/Relationships: Tech/Phee Set during Tech and Phee's courtship which happened off-screen, obviously Word Count: ~555 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Tech and Phee debate the merits of lab-grown versus natural.

With thanks to @fanfoolishness who is the one who suggested I try and fit my Specialist Subject into a fanfic XD

“It’s just not the same, y’know?” said Phee, gesturing with her drink to emphasise her point. “It’s not!”

“On the contrary,” countered Tech, watching her animated speech from across the table. “It is exactly the same. A synthetic diamond is chemically, physically and optically identical to its natural counterpart. It is merely the origin which differs.”

“Where’s the romance?” Leaning forwards, Phee fixed him with a mischievous look. “Your lab-grown so-called ‘diamonds’ can’t compare to the mystery of a gemstone formed millions of years ago, deep underground…” She was gesturing expansively now, becoming impassioned. “Erupted to the surface in a boiling column of lava, and eventually weathered from its host rock over eons of exposure…”

“Are you suggesting,” said Tech carefully, giving her the side-eye, “that a ­laboratory-grown counterpart cannot compare to the natural specimen on which it was based?” He held up a finger, lips pursed in amusement. “Think carefully before you answer, my dear.”

Phee already had her mouth open to argue her point when she paused, considering her words. She swatted playfully at his finger, grinning widely. “Alright, Brown-Eyes, you win this round.”

Tech’s smug smirk didn’t last as she leaned across the table to plant a kiss on his lips, lingering just a little longer than she usually did.

“I still think ‘synthetic diamonds’ lack romance, though,” she added as she pulled away.

“Your views have been noted.” He tapped something into his datapad. “If any of your friends or relations should approach me for gift-giving advice, I shall inform them that the natural geological origin of any jewelled ornaments they purchase for you is of the utmost importance.”

“I mean,” said Phee, unable to contain her smirk, “it’s not any of them who are going to be buying me diamonds.”

“I don’t know why not… oh.”

The exact moment that realisation dawned on Tech was registered by the slight dilation of his pupils, and the pretty blush that came to his cheeks.

“Another nat-born tradition?” he asked, forcing a casual lilt to his voice. “Only romantic partners engage in the diamond-gifting process?”

Phee grinned widely, resting her chin on top of her laced fingers. “Got it in one.”

“Ah. Hmm. I see.” Tech adjusted his goggles, the way he did to buy himself time to think.

Taking pity on him, Phee nudged her foot against his under the table. “This didn’t come up during your research?” she teased lightly. Tech had told her during their last date that he had been researching courtship customs, “So I may best prepare to meet your expectations as we pursue this romantic endeavour.”

“I admit, I stopped reading before I reached the chapter on gift-exchange customs.” Tech was blushing fiercely now, but he met her eyes with a shy smile. “I didn’t think we would get this far quite so quickly.” And despite his embarrassment, now he took the initiative to lean across the table and capture Phee’s lips in a tentative kiss.

Phee smiled against his mouth, bringing one hand up to gently hold the back of his head, fingertips teasing along the strap of his goggles.

“Tell you what, Brown-Eyes,” she said, voice simultaneously sultry and full of amusement. “When we reach the gift-giving chapter, if you buy me a big enough diamond, I won’t even ask where it came from.”

Yes I leaned into received wisdom about engagement ring gifting for the purpose of this story but lets be honest, we live in modern times, ladies you don't have to wait for a guy to put a ring on it... you can buy your own diamonds and love them just as much ;)

Sincerely, an industry professional who buys her own jewellery. I'm here all week for your jewellery and gemstone related questions ^_^ <3

[genshinluvr]

At Arm's Length

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After being forced into a marriage with the twenty-five men— technically, you agreed to it, so you weren't really forced into it, you couldn't help but yearn for a genuine connection with the men. You end up expressing your feelings about your marriage with your twenty-five husbands to Lumine, who is also your sister in law.

Note: Short-ish fic for this week since it's been a hectic week for me ;v; Not really sure how I feel about this fic since I do feel burned out from not only school but from writing fanfics as well 😵‍💫 It's a new quarter for me, and I'm just trying to keep up with school, my readings, and writings. I don't think this would count as angst, but just to be safe, I won't be tagging people that don't want to be tagged in angst or hurt/comfort. Next week's fic might be either Tagic Outcomes or Caught in the Crossfire since it's been a while since I've typed something for those two fics. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Would marriage count as a warning?

Word Count: 7k

This strange relationship you have with twenty-five men— it’s fake. There are no feelings attached, no physical touch or intimacy. No strings attached, as your world would call it. Usually, relationships that have no strings attached to them would be friends with benefits. You hate the friends-with-benefits title. It sounds depressing to you because it’s a “friendship” between two people where they do everything a typical relationship would have, only there are no romantic feelings involved. 

You have been in that situation before, but it ended fast because you wanted to be more than that, and the person left because you broke the number one rule. Not to catch any feelings, and that is what you did. Oh, what a fool you are. How could you, a hopeless romantic, be in that kind of situation? You didn’t expect to be in an arranged marriage situation with twenty-five men from an open-world game you’ve been obsessed with for quite some time.

A stack of paper is slammed on the table in front of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up at the older woman, who looks like she does not want to show up to work today.

“Please sign your first and last name here, and your… husbands will sign their names after,” the lady instructs, sliding a large stack of paper toward you.

You look at the stack of papers with wide eyes. These are marriage certificates, and you have to sign twenty-five pieces of paper. You turn to look at the twenty-five men standing two feet behind you. Pierro nods as if he’s signaling for you to go ahead and sign the papers. The majority of the men look uninterested, almost bored. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn to look at the papers laid out in front of you. Marriage certificate, huh? You will be legally binded to the twenty-five men for who knows how long— perhaps until they all get bored of you and leave you one day without any notice. Just the thought of being abandoned so suddenly makes your heart clench. How did you end up in a situation like this? 

The woman sitting at the front desk clears her throat, raising her eyebrows at you. “Are you going to sign the papers or not?” She asks with an attitude.

Your face heats up with embarrassment while you mutter an apology before grabbing the pen lying beside the stack of papers. You begin to sign your name on the marriage certificates. A marriage certificate is a contract, and contracts can’t be broken unless necessary. Well, at least that’s what you assume. You don’t have much knowledge when it comes to contracts, but a certain former Archon may know a thing or two about contracts. 

After signing all twenty-five marriage certificates, you step to the side and let each man sign their name on the paper. Each paper is a marriage certificate between you and one man. While you’re technically married to twenty-five men at once, the marriage certificate and the government of the men’s respective regions (if they have one) state that you’re married to one man. Though, you have no idea how that’s going to work out since most of these men live in the same region as the other. 

“There. It’s been done,” Xiao says, grabbing your attention.

You watch each man hand their pens over to the lady behind the desk. She takes the pen and begins to put the marriage certificates in a white envelope with gold borders. You walk to the woman, who begins to hand you each envelope. 

You’re not sure how this works or how it’ll work. You weren’t prepared for marriage, nor did you plan on getting married so soon. The stack of envelopes in your arms starts becoming heavy the more the woman stacks one envelope over the other. While the envelope is thick and glossy, holding the stacks in your arms feels like lead. The woman puts one last envelope on the stack and nods.

“You’re all dismissed,” she says.

You and the men walk out of the building without saying a word to each other. I mean, what’s there to say after something like this? These men found you unconscious outside of Dragonspine. When you came to consciousness, you were met with various weapons pointing at your face. It took you a while to reassure them that you’re not a threat— how can you be a threat when you don’t have a vision or any weapons on your person?

Tensions are high, and silence hangs in the air. The tension is so thick you can suffocate in it. The sun is high in the sky, the birds are chirping, and the civilians are going on with their day, unaware of the situation.

You break the silence. “You guys are acting like I’m forcing all of you to marry me when I never brought up that idea. We can go back to the clerk and destroy the certificates if that makes you all happy,” you said.

“There’s no need to go back to the clerk to have the marriage certificates destroyed. What’s done is done, and you cannot break a contract once it's signed by the party involved,” Diluc says.

Archons, you hate this so much. You weren’t the one that brought the idea up to the men. It was them that suggested it for your “protection.” Ever since you revealed to them that you weren’t from their universe, they suggested that you should get married to them so that they can protect you from the Abyss and other potential harms that could come your way. 

Because you know too much about what happened in their world that they’re unaware of, it was best for them to be betrothed to you to protect you and your identity. At least that’s what you were told. Quite frankly, there could be a better alternative. Still, the twenty-five men were adamant about the marriage option, and you weren’t sure why. You didn’t want to start any more issues with them, so you went along with their choice, and now here you are— married to twenty-five men.

A few months go by, and it’s been a few months since you have been “married” to the twenty-five men, and while you’re their significant other, they keep you at arm's length. Everything feels awkward between you and the men. They weren’t cold or rude to you. They didn’t mistreat you or make you feel alienated from the rest. You’re unsure if it’s because of your lack of relationship experience or if it was something else because everything felt awkward.

Since you are legally their partner for however long, the twenty-six of you need to put on a show to prove that your marriage is legitimate and not illegitimate. No matter where you all are, you have to get used to calling each other partners. They’re your husbands, and you are their spouse.

You’re going to be really honest here. It feels like you’re putting more effort into this role than these men are. It almost feels like you’re the only person that is trying to make it work despite how awkward it is. After all, it feels like an arranged marriage because these men don’t have feelings toward you— at least, that’s what you’re assuming. Since you’re not a citizen in Teyvat, you spend your time at the abode, cleaning, cooking, and watering the plants in the backyard because there’s nothing for you to do, really. 

Instead of Thoma cooking food for everyone, you’re the one that does it. Of course, Thoma was opposed to it at first, but you insisted on cooking because they have jobs and duties to tend to, whereas you’re at the estate doing house duties. 

You wake up around close to six in the morning to start your day. While you hated waking up early in the morning, you thought getting up before everyone else would make the men feel relieved in a way. After all, you don’t work or go to school. You could apply to Sumeru Akademiya and be a student there, but it would raise some suspicions, according to Al Haitham and Kaveh. 

You’re not a fan of waking up at an early time, but ever since you and the twenty-five men have signed the marriage contract, you have been making it a habit to get up early in the morning to start your day ahead of everyone’s schedule. You’re standing in the kitchen in your pajamas, packing twenty-five lunches for each man. You made sure to cook their favorite dishes and include some snacks from the regions they’re from. It’s a lot to do, but you’re getting the hang of it.

“And we’re done!” You mutter to yourself, sighing in relief when you wrap the last lunch bag for the last man. 

You yawn and stretch your arms in the air. You lined the lunch bags next to each other, labeling each bag with the men’s names on it so they wouldn’t mix up their lunch bags with someone else’s bags. That would’ve been a disaster if it did happen. You rub your eyes and walk to the stove, cracking eggs into the pan and begin to cook yourself some breakfast. 

The kitchen door creaks open. You turn your head to see Thoma walking into the kitchen dressed for the day but with a bedhead. You crack a smile and look away before Thoma can see it. Thoma hums softly, walking over to where you’re standing.

“Morning, Thoma. I hope you slept well last night,” you said softly, cooking the eggs before you while Thoma dug through the refrigerator for water.

“I slept well. I hope you slept well, too, because it’s almost seven in the morning, and I don’t understand how you’re able to pack everyone's lunch before we all wake up,” Thoma murmurs, leaning against the counter beside you after grabbing a cup of water to drink.

You shrug. “It’s not as easy as I hoped it would be. That’s all I can say. Everyone has their likes and dislikes, and I have to make sure to prepare the ingredients the day prior,” you reply.

You look at the clock hanging on the wall and reach for the spatula. It’s almost time for everyone to get up for work, and Thoma is the only person that is awake. You’re not sure whether it’s because Thoma is used to getting up early ahead of every other man in the estate or if he’s used to waking up early because of his duties at the Kamisato Estate. But either way, you’re happy to have some kind of company, even if it’s short-lived.

“Thoma, it seems like you have yet to fix your bedhead,” the voice of the Kamisato heir breaks the short silence between you and the housekeeper of the Kamisato Estate. 

Thoma laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I tried to fix it, but there’s no use in getting it down when it’s stubborn,” Thoma sighs in defeat.

You continue to cook your breakfast while Thoma and Ayato hang out in the kitchen, chatting quietly near the island of the kitchen. You grab a plate and scoop the eggs, putting them on the plate while debating whether you should cook some bacon to go with your eggs for breakfast or not. The kitchen door opens once again, and more men walk into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes while muttering under their breaths.

You let out a silent gasp and smack yourself in the forehead, mentally cursing yourself for being forgetful. How could you make lunch for your husbands to take to work when you forget to brew them coffee and tea?! Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“Don’t hit yourself!” Scaramouche grumbles, smacking your hand away from your face with a small scowl on his face.

“Yeah! There’s nothing to beat yourself over. You made us lunch like you promised,” Gorou says, grabbing the small lunch sack from the kitchen island.

You sigh and rub your throbbing temples. “Of course, I would make you all lunch to bring to work with you all, but I forgot to brew coffee and tea for you guys,” you murmur. “Archons, how could I be so stupid and forget that?” 

“You’re not stupid for forgetting to brew tea and coffee for us, [Y/N]. You were occupied with cooking lunch for twenty-five of us. There’s nothing worth beating yourself over,” Dainsleif says, walking over to the coffee pot.

“I’ll do better next time, I promise. My forgetfulness has caused everyone to be late for work,” you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip. 

Childe throws his arms over your shoulders and pats your head. “Late for work? The clock just struck seven! If anything, we’re up pretty early, and we should leave the house not too long from now. Plus, some of us don’t thrive on coffee and tea,” Childe says.

“You do not need to worry about anything. You’re doing fine, and none of us are upset with you just because you forgot about coffee and tea. Plus, you cooked lunch for the twenty-five of us to bring to work. The least we can do is make our coffee and tea,” Al Haitham says, entering the kitchen with a peeved Kaveh following behind.

Kaveh stands beside you, crossing his arms over his chest with his chest puffing out. You look at Kaveh worriedly and lightly tap his arm. Kaveh continues to glare at Al Haitham before looking at you. You freeze for a moment when he looks at you with the same expression on his face. Kaveh notices your change in demeanor before relaxing.

Kaveh pats your head. “Sorry, [Y/N]! That glare wasn’t for you. It’s for that idiot over there with his stupid noise-canceling headphones,” Kaveh says, shooting a glare over at the Acting Grand Sage.

You weren’t sure if Al Haitham didn’t hear what Kaveh said because of his noise-canceling headphones or if he was intentionally ignoring Kaveh’s comment. You smile at Kaveh and pat his arm lightly before continuing what you were doing before the other men entered the kitchen. Once everyone is awake and ready for work, you pass everyone their lunch bags with their names on them. 

You stand by the door of the estate and bid them goodbyes as they walk out the door. Some men pat your head on their way out, and others either give you a hug or squeeze your shoulders. Despite being married to them for a few months, this is the only kind of affection you were getting from the twenty-five men.

Just when Baizhu is about to close the estate’s door, you quickly stop him by grabbing his wrist. Baizhu stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, surprised and confused. You release Baizhu’s wrist and give him a strained smile.

“Remember to take your medication, alright? I know you work at Bubu Pharmacy, and your job is to take care of others and give your patients their medication, but please take care of yourself as well,” you whisper.

Baizhu looks at you with surprise before giving you a warm smile. Baizhu chuckles softly and pats your head, almost ruffling your hair. You laugh quietly and grab Baizhu’s hand, gently squeezing them.

Baizhu nods. “Of course, I’ll take care of myself. I promise,” Baizhu says, making a crossing motion over his chest.

Baizhu leans over you and presses a kiss on your forehead before walking out the door, leaving you at the entrance of the estate, speechless. You touch your forehead, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. You press your lips into a thin line to prevent yourself from smiling widely. You close the estate’s door and lock it.

Before you and the men got married for your safety and to keep Teyvat at peace, they promised to each other and to themselves that they would keep you at arm's length. You’re sweet and down to earth, but because some of them have dangerous professions and you’re not from their world, they wanted to keep this distance between you and them. Your husbands do not hate you, and they’ve made it very clear on multiple occasions.

“If we seem cold toward you, we do not hate you. We don’t hold any disdain toward you, nor do we hold any grudges toward you.” Cyno would say as he is sitting across from you.

You nod and dig your nail into the wrinkly skin of your right ring finger— a bad habit of yours when you were a child that dragged on to your adulthood. You usually dig your nails into the wrinkly skin of your right ring finger when you’re stressed, nervous, or bored. It doesn’t hurt at all, nor could you feel it.

Tighnari clears his throat. “Do you have any other questions?” Tighnari asks, gazing at you curiously. 

You hum to yourself and tap your fingers on your thighs. “I want to know why some of you will be acting cold toward me,” you mutter, puckering your lips.

“To be fair, some of us do it unintentionally,” Albedo interjects.

You couldn’t help but agree with Albedo on that. Some men do come off as standoffish and cold even though they’re not. It’s how they are to people in general, not just you. For example, Xiao is standoffish, but that doesn’t mean he hates you or holds any grudges toward you. If anything, Xiao wanted to distance himself from you because of his karmic debt, and because you’re mortal and don’t have a vision, he doesn’t want to harm you in any way or put you in harm's way. 

“Just don’t do anything reckless that could put you in danger,” Pierro comments, leaning against the wall.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You don’t think you can guarantee that— staying away from danger, you mean. It’s not like you intentionally dive headfirst into danger without warning! You’re getting married to Archons, Harbingers, an Adeptus, a Knight, and many notable figures of Teyvat. There’s bound to be danger in almost every corner now that you’re associated with these men. 

The men stare at you intently while you stare off into space, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. That’s another habit of yours the men noticed almost right off the bat. When you’re deep in thought, you tend to zone out and are not aware of your surroundings. It’s almost like your head is always in the clouds. It’s almost endearing in a way, but your head being in the clouds could also be the reason for your downfall.

“What’s on your mind?” Heizou asks, leaning back in his seat while watching you closely.

You sigh and chuckle to yourself. “I don’t have much going on in my mind, to be really honest. But I do have other questions, but I don’t think any of you are going to give me a clear answer,” you said.

Kazuha sits beside you and gazes at you curiously. You clear your throat and look away, feeling heat slowly creep up your neck. He’s even prettier in person. You wonder if Kazuha knows how pretty he is because he’s breathtaking. Then again, the twenty-four other men are just as stunning as Kazuha. 

“If you want, you can ask us now, and if we know the answer, we’ll tell you. If not, we’ll try to answer it when we have the answers,” Kazuha suggests, giving you a small smile.

You pursed your lips and debated whether you should ask the question. If you were to ask them the question, you worry you might receive the answer you didn’t want to hear. But if you don’t ask the question, you’ll never know what will happen or what to expect. Itto lets out a loud grunt and stands up, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Itto props his hands on his hips and gives you an encouraging smile. “Whatever question you have for us, I think some of us have the answer for it, depending on what it is!” Itto says, tilting his head to the side while gazing at you curiously.

How long will this marriage last? Is what you wanted to ask the men. How long will it last? A few weeks? A few months? A few years, maybe? How long? The time in Teyvat is vastly different from your world, you’re assuming. The days in Teyvat are much faster than the days in your world. You and the men never went out on a date to get to know one another or to form a bond with one another. Would the marriage be convincing because of the lack of bond between the twenty-six of you? Or, well, between you and each man? 

“I don’t know if I want to ask the question,” you mutter shyly.

Venti giggles and trots over to you, throwing his arms around your shoulders and giving you a pat on the head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to ask the question! We won’t pry!” Venti says, releasing you from his hug before walking over to where he was standing previously. 

Zhongli clears his throat. “I would like to remind you all that what we’re all getting into involves a contract. Everyone has to agree to sign this contract mutually. If one person does not agree, then the contract will be invalid,” Zhongli says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Right, you nearly forgot that marriage is a contract with the party involved. It’s not a relationship where people can break up and go their separate ways after. Marriage is a contract, and to get out of marriage is breaking a contract. It’s a long process, and people can’t walk away from it so easily. 

You didn’t remember who proposed the idea of every one of them marrying you to keep you away from danger and to keep your real origins hidden from the rest of Teyvat. It’s strange to you that you have to marry notable figures to keep your identity hidden, even though that’s putting more spotlight and target on you. You don’t mind getting married to twenty-five handsome men but getting married to them so suddenly is something you didn’t expect.

“Are you listening?” Capitano asks gruffly.

You nod mindlessly. “I’m not opposed to continuing this process. I mean, it’s not like I have a choice, really,” you mutter.

“It’s for your safety. If word gets out that you’re not from our universe and you possess the knowledge of Teyvat, you will be hunted down by the Abyss,” Dottore interjects from the corner of the room.

You didn’t realize he was in the same room until now. Now that you think about it, these Harbingers are scattered around the large office inside Dawn Winery. You puckered your lips and leaned back in your seat, crossing your leg over the other. 

You sigh and tilt your head back. “Is the Abyss really a threat to me right now? In case you all have forgotten, you’re all notable figures. Some of you are Harbingers and Knights—”

Diluc makes a disgusted noise.

“Some of you are Adeptis and Archons—”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and pretends to gag. You stare at Diluc and Scaramouche blankly while the two avoid your eyes. You huff and stand up, propping your hands on your hips. You look at the other men in the room, who gazes at you cluelessly.

Kaeya smiles at you and waves. “Ignore Diluc. He was once a Knight as well, but now he holds a grudge against us,” Kaeya says nonchalantly.

Diluc rolls his eyes in response and glares at Kaeya from the corner of his eyes. You scratch your head, wondering how in the world this marriage is going to work out of some of these men hold grudges against certain groups of people, especially when the others are part of that group.

“So, what do you say? Do you agree to marry all twenty-five of us for your protection? This is also no strings attached, so you can do whatever you want without us controlling you. That applies to us as well.” Pantalone says, holding his hand out toward you.

You sigh for the trillionth time, staring at Pantalone’s hand. No strings attached? How would a marriage work if it’s no strings attached? There are many strings attached to marriages! That only applies if it’s a friends-with-benefits situation, but marriage? Does that even apply to marriages? This got you scratching your head because what?

“I’m not sure what you mean by no strings attached,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows. “But yes, I will marry you. All of you. Although I did not think this is how the marriage proposal is going to turn out….” you trailed off, grabbing Pantalone’s hand and shaking his hand.

Childe smirks, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Oh? Did you perhaps want us to dress fancy and make it special?” Childe asks.

“Yes.” you deadpan. “Honestly, if I was dating all of you and this is how you all propose to me, it would’ve been an automatic no,” you add.

“Huh!? Then what should we do to get you to say yes other than making it special?” Itto asks, giving you a look of disbelief.

You hum thoughtfully, tapping on your chin after releasing Pantalone’s hand. “Well, last time I checked, an engagement ring is involved. If we’re going to make this ‘real,’ there needs to be a ring, or else people won’t believe it,” you explain.

“Oh? Do you want us to get you an engagement ring?” Pierro asks, looking at you with an amused look on his face.

You feel your face heat up, and you look away with a “hmph!” The marriage is real, but at the same time, it’s not. Yes, a marriage certificate and license will be signed and given to the twenty-six of you, but this marriage is a loveless marriage. At least, that’s what you assume it’ll be. If you have to marry the twenty-five of them for your safety, you might as well make it convincing, right? Then again, you don’t want them to spend a lot of Mora over a ring.

“Yes, I do. I mean, unless people in Teyvat do it differently,” you mutter, stroking your chin. You shake your head and wave your hand. “You know what? Forget it. It’s not even a real marriage, so why should I want a ring to be involved?” You sigh.

Aether looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean? It is a real marriage,” Aether says.

“Not when the marriage is rushed, and none of you have feelings for me,” you mutter under your breath.

“Either way, the wedding is real because a contract is involved. If it were fake, the marriage license and certificate wouldn’t be signed, and it would’ve been more of a role play,” Tighnari interjects, shrugging his shoulders.

Well, Tighnari’s not wrong about that. Still, the marriage isn’t genuine between you and the twenty-five men. You shouldn’t be complaining when they’re doing it for your safety, but what Pantalone said really bothers you. A marriage that has no strings attached. How would that even work? You get attached easily! 

“[Y/N].”

How would the men react if you told them you wanted the marriage to be real? By that, you mean you wanted them to love you as much as you love them. Is it too early to tell them you love them despite knowing them for only a short amount of time during your stay in Teyvat? I mean, you technically knew them longer than they know you because—

“[Y/N]!”

You feel something smack you in the face. You blink and rub the tip of your nose, looking at the item that fell onto your lap. A bread roll. You clear your throat and grab the bread, glancing up at Lumine, who sighs and props her head up on the table with her arm.

You put the bread roll on the plate, giving Lumine an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Lumine. I didn’t mean to get lost in my thoughts,” you said. “What were you saying?”

Lumine lets out a long sigh and leans back in her seat, staring at you closely while tapping her fingers on her biceps. “I was wondering how your marriage is going with those twenty-five men. Specifically, my twin brother,” Lumine says.

“Oh!” You look at her surprised, reminding Lumine of a startled fox she came across many times while on her and her brother’s exploration around Teyvat. “It’s… uh… it’s going!” You say, giving her a strained smile.

Lumine deadpans. “Listen, [Y/N]... I invited you to lunch at a lovely restaurant in Mondstadt so we can chat and catch up!” She leans on the table and looks at you worriedly. “You stared off into space for a while, and you look very upset, maybe almost annoyed as well,” Lumine says.

You gulp and reach for your teacup, sipping your now cold tea. Have you been spacing out for that long? You didn’t even realize it until Lumine snapped you out of your thoughts. You’re not sure if you should tell Lumine what’s been bothering you. Surely she knows the state of your and the twenty-five men’s marriage, right? Plus, it’s not like Aether would be hiding the truth of his marriage with you.

Lumine chuckles, shaking her head. “You know, when Aether told me he was getting married, I was genuinely shocked. My brother? Getting married? That’s something I never thought would happen.”

“It’s a loveless marriage, though,” you whisper in defeat, slumping forward and resting your chin on the table. “My marriage with these men is loveless. There are no strings attached, which I find odd because there’s no marriage like that! I mean… unless it’s an arranged marriage that is strictly business,” you mutter, pressing your lips into a thin line.

Lumine gives you a sympathetic look, reaching for your hand across the table, and gently squeezes your hand. “Have you expressed your desire of wanting the marriage to be real instead of it being an excuse to protect you and keep you within close range?” Lumine asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

You shake your head glumly. 

Lumine looks at you with confusion and tilts her head to the side. “Why not? I mean, marriage involves a lot of communication, right? How would the marriage work out if none of you are communicating about your wants, worries, and desires?” Lumine asks.

“Lumine, these men barely show me affection as my husbands. They talk to me, yes, but it's always awkward between us when we speak,” you say, pulling your hand away from hers before reaching for the bread roll and breaking it apart.

“Sounds like you all need a marriage counselor,” Lumine says nonchalantly, leaning back in her seat with a sigh. “I’m no love expert, but trust me, communicating your wants, needs, desires, and worries will make marriage much easier!” Lumine says.

“The last time I did that, my ex laughed in my face and left me for my ex-best friend,” you deadpan.

Lumine blinks at you and laughs nervously, grabbing her cup of water and taking a sip of it. You lightly slam your head on the wooden table, causing the cutlery to clatter from the impact. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, staring off into space. 

Even if you were to express your wants, needs, desires, and worries to your husbands, you worry that it’ll drive them away from you. Not only that, but you worry that it’ll make them snap you back into reality— the reality that your marriage with them is loveless. The purpose of the marriage is to protect you and your identity from the people of Teyvat, from the Abyss Order.

While Aether and Lumine aren’t the Abyss Prince and Princess, the Abyss Order is still as active as ever. Heck, they might be out looking for you and either kill you for knowing too much information or, worst case scenario: make you the new ruler of the Abyss. You sit up and prop your head up with your elbow on the table, sighing wistfully.

“I didn’t think I would be thrown into marriage a few weeks after my arrival to Teyvat. Now here I am, a few months later, in a loveless marriage with twenty-five men who are unobtainable due to their status,” you ramble, rubbing your face with a frustrated sigh and tugging at the roots of your hair.

Lumine smacks your hand away from your head with a scolding look. You release your hair and let your hands fall on your lap, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. You don’t care that you’re married to the handsome twenty-five men. You care that it’s a loveless marriage that is “no strings attached.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, resting it on the top rail. “A hopeless romantic like myself shouldn’t be in a loveless marriage. I try to find hope in the littlest things, only to be disappointed in the end because I have a hard time accepting that none of these men will ever love me,” you let out a shaky sigh. “There are times when I question if I’m worthy of love because of how many people left me heartbroken. Look at me. I’m in a loveless marriage with twenty-five men who keep me at arm's length. They refuse to get close to me or show me affection. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it,” you murmur.

Lumine glances over your shoulders and then back at you, reaching for her fork. It’s supposed to be a day where you and Lumine hang out with each other. You did tell your husbands that you’ll be meeting up with Lumine, and they’re okay with it. Of course, why wouldn’t they? Lumine stares at you intently, biting on the inside of her lips. Your eyebrows are furrowed, Lumine can see the dark circles under your eyes, and the frown on your face has only gotten deeper. Dear Archons, how unhappy are you? You look like you’re barely hanging on. You look defeated and exhausted.

Lumine clears her throat. “I’m sure they show they care about you somehow, correct? You’re married, and while it’s not like any other marriages, I’m sure they show a tiny bit of affection,” Lumine murmurs.

You crack your eyes open and rest your chin on the table. “Even if they did, it’s not enough that is convincing. They have tried to reassure me they don’t intend on being cold toward me, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

Lumine raises her eyebrows at you and taps her fingers on the table. “Do you want the marriage to be convincing, or do you want it to be genuine? No offense, but I’m confused about what you want from my brother and your other husbands,” Lumine comments.

You let out a sharp exhale and bury your face in the table. “I want it to be real. The marriage certificate and license are real, yes, but I want….” You trail off, turning your head to the side so your cheek is resting on the wooden table.

“You want….?” Lumine furrows her eyebrows.

You sit up straight and scratch your cheek. “I want them to love and care about me as much as I do for them. Since this marriage is, according to Pantalone, no strings attached, it makes me feel like I’m not meant to be loved even if I do love someone or something. If that makes sense.” You run your fingers through your hair and puff your cheeks out. “That’s all I want. But knowing them, they will never feel the same way, and I need to accept it.”

You stare at Lumine, who looks like she just saw a ghost for the first time. You look at her quizzically while she slowly lifts her hand and points behind you. You freeze and close your eyes, mentally cursing to yourself. You slowly turn in your seat and open your eyes, only to see your beloved husbands standing there with their arms over their chests, looking at you with unreadable expressions on their faces.

“We need to talk,” Diluc says.

Your shoulders slump, and you nod. You get up from your seat and bid Lumine goodbye before walking outside of Mondstadt. Lumine gives Aether a look when he walks past her alongside the other men. The way back to the estate was silent, other than muttering from other men here and there. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and ashamed for admitting it out loud. Even if you said it to Lumine, you didn’t expect your husbands to walk up to your table while you were rambling.

Now, you’re sitting on the couch while the men are standing in front of you. You feel like a child getting ready to be scolded by their parents for misbehaving. You feel so small, almost inferior. 

“Can you explain to us what you and Lumine were talking about?” Xiao asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips. “Lumine and I were talking about our,” you gesture to yourself and the twenty-five men in front of you, “marriage, and I was expressing my feelings about the marriage.”

“Care to tell us more about it?” Kaeya asks, sitting across from you.

“Do I need to explain it to you all again? I have a feeling that all of you heard what I said to Lumine before I realized you all heard what I was saying,” you commented.

Gorou nods. “That is true, yes, but we want you to say it to us. We are your husbands, after all.”

Archons, this is embarrassing.

“I…” You sigh, staring off into space.

You can’t say what you said to Lumine earlier today. It’s not like you didn’t want to. It’s because you have a hard time expressing your emotions and saying what’s on your mind. 

You shake your head, burying your face into the palm of your hands. “Sorry, I’m having a hard time.” You whisper.

Aether gives you a sympathetic look. “It’s okay! Take your time!” Aether reassures you, sitting beside you and rubbing your arm.

“We want to let you know that we’re not mad at you for telling Lumine how you feel about the marriage,” Heizou says, sitting on the other side of you, sandwiching you between him and Aether.

You give Aether and Heizou a strained smile before looking down at your hands on your lap.

“I don’t know how you all feel about this marriage, but lately, I feel like you all have been avoiding me. The better way for me to put it is you’re all keeping me at arm’s length, and I feel like I can’t get through the walls you’re all putting up.”

“Like Pantalone said, the marriage is no string attached,” Dottore says passively.

You stand up. “That only works for friends-with-benefits situations. We’re married. Marriage isn’t supposed to be like this unless it’s a business transaction like those arranged marriages, but this isn’t arranged. It’s sudden, and I’m an idiot for thinking I’m strong enough to be in this situation.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?” Capitano asks.

“Am I really that hard to love to the point where you all keep me at arm’s length? If I am, we could just end the marriage and go our separate ways,” you suggest.

Al Haitham shakes his head. “That’s not why we keep you at arm’s length. You’re not hard to love. We do care about you, [Y/N].”

“Then why put a wall between us? I’m doing everything I can to have you all open up to me, but it's futile.” 

Kaveh kneels in front of you and grabs your hand. “We put you at arm’s length because we worry that if we end up developing feelings for you, you will return to your world suddenly. We do care about you, and it’s hard for us to act like we don’t love you. We do, and it’s not easy for either of us to keep this distance.”

“I see where you’re all coming from, but we don’t know when I’ll return to my world. I’ve been in Teyvat for, what, a few months now?” You look at the men quizzically.

“That’s the unfortunate thing. We don’t know how or when you’ll return to your world. It’s a constant guessing game, and falling in love with someone and them disappearing out of thin air without warning is terrifying.” Albedo interjects, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And so is marrying someone and keeping them at a far distance until they disappear! It’s almost a cruel and unusual punishment.” You retort.

“Would you be okay with us starting all over again?” Kazuha asks.

You press your lips into a thin line and squint at Kazuha. What does he mean by that exactly?

“We want to form a connection with you. While we treated you with respect (and will continue to do so), we want to treat you like our spouse instead of a stranger/roommate.” Scaramouche replies. 

You nod, feeling your face gradually become warm. You continue to keep your lips pressed into a thin line to prevent a big smile from forming on your face. They wanted a fresh start. A start where they treat you like a lover rather than a stranger. You’re okay with that! In fact, you like that idea more than whatever’s been happening for the past few months.

“I like that idea.” You say softly.

Cyno smiles and pats your head. “Good.”

A fresh start with your twenty-five husbands. That’s something you didn’t expect would happen, but you’re not complaining. It’s better than having them keep their distance from you.

Note: I'm thinking about giving Zhongli his own collection of one-shots, but I'm not 100% sure if I should do it. I have a lot of ideas for this man, and I want to make it happen, but I'll have to wait a bit and see how it goes before I make it happen. I might make it happen once my spring quarter is over, but who knows. I was distracted by the new Obey Me game, and I was also farming for Baizhu. That's why the update is a bit late-ish other than me tagging people in this post. To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @samarill, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @nightlysunn, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[vanillaavengerlings]

To all Fanfic/fanart/ fandom content writers/creators/artists/anyone creating fandom content

As we enter the week of 22 July, I wanted to write something hopeful for any writers, artists and content creators out there, because let’s face it, things happening around the world is so grim and most of us are trying to survive the days. 

So, here’s something hopeful for any of you who need this.😄

Please reblog this as much as you can as I would love for fandom writers/creators/artists and for fanfic readers to read this. 

Thank you!

A small background about me - I write fanfics, mostly in the Avengers/Stony fandoms. And it’s what I’ve been doing mostly for a few years, despite schooling and transitioning to work.

It’s my escape from reality. When things get rough, I start writing. Writing fanfictions gives me comfort because I know the characters and I love them, so I feel safe in a way and it’s stress relieving for me.

In 2018, I had to attend a compulsory internship so that I could get my diploma and graduate. My course offered a few positions and one of them was writing for television programs at a well known media company in my country. 

I wanted that job so bad because I wasn’t interested in the others, they were too ‘corporate-like’. So I applied for it. They asked for my portfolio of written works.

And then it hit me. My God, all I’ve written so far were fanfics with male pairing. I come from a conservative country so LGBTQ stories are super rare and can be frowned upon. But that’s all I had and it was all I could submit.

Guess what?

I did just that. I took excerpts from my WIP/published fanfics, and added them into my portfolio. I even went the extra mile and typed a short excerpt into a screenwriting format, like a legit script for a show! (TV writing internships pay special attention to your script writing abilities)

I submitted them.

I was called for an interview a few days later. I was advised to bring hardcopy versions of my written work, so I printed out the stuff from my portfolio. I went for the interview and saw my coursemates, some of whom I consider really capable and smart. 

I thought, there’s no way my fanfics and I stand a chance in getting this job.

I went up first and had the usual interview questions. The last bit came, where the interviewer, a prominent executive producer in my country, asked for my written samples. I handed her the file and gave her a brief explanation of my work.

I told her I published my written works online and have a group of audience who read and review them. I also added that I use their feedback to improve my writing as a whole. She was nodding her head and reading the script of my fanfic I had written. I was hiding my smile. Everything she was flipping through were Stony and Avengers fanfic excerpts!

At last, she handed my file back to me and smiled. It signaled the end of my interview. I went back to my campus and sighed, already looking at the other positions to apply to.

Two hours later, I received the email that I had gotten the job, as a television writer intern at a prominent media company. And all I used were my fanfictions I had written!

I couldn’t believe it worked. My fellow coursemates write really good content and I went into the interview with fanfictions and got the job!

To this day, when I think about this, I laugh. Not in a self-deprecating way, but in a way of disbelief, seeing what I can pull off.

To everyone out there who are thinking so lowly of yourself because all you have done are work related to fandoms, I’ve been there, and I’m here to say that you are so talented coming up with unique content from something that is so fixed and rigid. So don’t be hard on yourself. 

You’re not wasting your time just because you post stuff on AO3 or Tumblr. Every written work/art/creative content is a great way for you to practice and work on your skills. I mean, we all have to start somewhere, right?

Seriously, it takes a lot of talent, creativity and hard work to write fanfictions, draw fanarts and create any fandom related content. And it takes so much of courage to put your work out there in the open for anyone to read.

And that’s the thing! It’s a service that you are doing, letting people read your words, your story, letting people see your art and your creativity. 

Don’t be ashamed of your fandom works. And don’t be ashamed of reading fanfictions. They’re a part of you. So don’t think of yourself lowly. No way. You’re all heroes, in your own ways. 

Some of the best written stories I’ve ever read came from AO3, some of the best art works and funniest content I’ve ever seen are fandom related.

You’ve got this, you talented talented human being. Go out there and shine bright! 🌟

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Family Vacation

ectoberhaunt24 day 2- dinosaur tw- none summary- family vacations are the worst

masterlist ao3

Call him a pessimist (which Jazz did) but Danny knew that something terrible was about to happen the moment his dad said “family vacation.”

When Danny had asked if their ‘family vacation’ had anything to do with goats, his dad had just laughed and his mother had said they would be sure to do non-ghost related activities as well.

Apart from all the near accidents thanks to Jack Fenton’s driving the trip went relatively well, and even the haunted house they had gone to see turned up zero ghosts. His parents were massively disappointed and while Danny was relieved, he couldn’t help but be suspicious. His luck was never this good.

They then visited an art museum, but were quickly banned when his dad bumped into one too many exhibits.

Danny now sat in the back of the car, glumly wondering where his parents planned on taking them next.

“We could just go home.” Danny said.

“Nonsense, Danno! We’re on a family vacation! We’re going to do a bunch of fun things! Don’t let those pesky museum staff think you can’t do anything fun!”

“Dad, you literally almost broke a Michalangelo statue.” Jazz said.

“I don’t know why they cared so much. It wasn’t even about ghosts!”

“Jack, dear, keep your eyes on the road.” Maddie said not looking up from her laptop where she was editing her latest submission to some scientific journal who would undoubtedly end up rejecting her paper since it had to do with ghosts.

“Sure thing, honey bunches!”

Danny groaned and focused back on his phone where he was reading the latest update on his favorite fanfic.

He happily zoned out until the car jerked roughly to a stop, the tires squealing and several cars blaring their horns at them. He sighed before looking up and promptly jerked back as he looked out the window and saw a dinosaur.

“Welcome to Dino Park!” his dad exclaimed.

“It says here that they have over one hundred dinosaur sculptures.” Jazz said reading from her phone.

They exited the death trap of a vehicle and paid for their tickets before starting to wander around the sculpture park.

It wasn’t space, but Danny could admit to himself that it was pretty cool to see all the different kinds of dinosaurs.

He finally felt relaxed and started to think that maybe this family vacation wasn’t so bad. Which was of course when everything went wrong.

His ghost sense went off.

He suppressed a groan as all around them the sculptures roared and began to move.

“GHOSTS!” his parents screamed, pulling out massive guns from who knew where. Danny tried not to think about it.

Jazz sighed as their parents ran off.

Danny grumbled to himself as he hid behind some bushes to transform amidst the screeching and roaring of extinct creatures and the firing of his parents' weapons.

Family vacations were the worst.

[striveattemptfail]

chaos, we so catostrophic | Logan Howlett & Wade Wilson, 1.1k, PG-13

@poolvertober: Day 17 – Cozy

Summary: Takes place immediately after Wade introduces Logan and Mary Puppins to Al. This is 100% dialogue and is more gen than slash but we all know the truth ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) TW: Rated for canon-typical violence, gun use, mentions of drugs/alcohol, language, and death of a nameless rat. Read on Ao3

A/N: I'm taking today's prompt real fast and loose here so please forgive me lmao. Title from Chk Chk Boom by Stray Kids because I'm still offended it wasn't included in the OST, smh 😑 Shout out to the wonderful Zay @comatose--overdose for the beta, idea throwing, and putting up with my ass (ಥ‿ಥ) All other mistakes are mine.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

“It’s like an armadillo fucked a gremlin, angrily, and in a bed of gonorrhoea—”

“Wow.”

“—and didn’t stop ‘til the sun came up!”

“Whatever it is, I ain’t taking care of it.”

“Don’t worry about that. Besides, we should talk about how Logan is here to live with us!”

“No, I’m not...?”

“How the fuck are we supposed to keep a mangy dog and another whole-ass human being alive in this shithole apartment, Wade?”

“Gasp! How dare you call her mangy? She’s a princess and deserves to be treated like royalty!”

“And you want her to live in this cocaine-less den?”

“Did you just say ‘gasp’ out loud, bub?”

“The movie’s almost over, so I can probably hook you up with Doug’s forbidden baking powder soon. I’ll figure it out!”

“What about the entire man—”

“Ooh, that he is.”

“—that you intend to house in this one-bed, one-bath?”

“I’ll only be here until I can get on my feet, ma’am.”

“Nope, you’re staying here until you’re 90! Also, ‘ma’am’? Logan, I’m pretty sure you’re twice her age.”

“What the fuck?”

“Oh yeah, Logan’s the Wolverine and he’s, like, stupid old.”

“Fuck you.”

“...I thought Wolverine died?”

“This is a new one.”

“How the fuck did you get a fucking new one?”

“I’ll give you the abridged version of the movie later, after everybody settles in.”

“Wade! For fuck’s sake, I can hear you leaving—don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“Don’t you dare walk away from meeeee!”

“Singing Whitney doesn’t answer my question about how the hell we’re fitting three people and a dog in here!”

“We’ve got a pull-out—haha, pull out—in the living room and an XL twin in the bedroom.”

“My bedroom, Wade!”

“Bub, are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Hey, if the fanfics can make it work, then we’ll make it work!”

“I cannot believe this shit. This dumbass never listens to me.”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ. Althea?”

“Yes, Logan?”

“Ya got any booze around?”

“I think there’s beer in the fridge.”

“Booze? Already? It’s not even—Al, what time is it?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Right, blind, can’t see the time.”

“If that wall clock’s right, it’s 3:14, bub.”

“It’s not even 4pm and you’re already drinking?!”

“If I have to put up with your hairless-brained bullshit, yes, I am.”

“I’d be more offended at that joke but I’m honestly impressed, pookie.”

“Seriously? For calling you bald?”

“His standards are in hell used as Satan’s spreader bar where he should’ve gone instead of rooming with me.”

“Hey!”

“Pfft!”

“Unbelievable, I can’t believe—oh, no! No no no no, Lady Leprosy With Legs, don’t nap in that! That’s where Daddy keeps his knives.”

“That’s what I’m trying to talk about, Wade! Where the hell is everyone supposed to sleep?”

“You and I can bunk together like we used to, Al. Logan can take the pull-out.”

“Oh, friggin’ hell—no. You and I will share that damn couch and Althea can keep her bed.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, sugar tits!”

“Now, what about the dog?”

“She’ll get a dog bed, duh.”

“What? D’ya just have a dog bed lying around somewhere?”

“I do, actually! But where did I put that thing?”

“Are you serious?”

“Convenient, huh! I found it in Al’s shit when we moved in together and decided to keep it. I’m guessing the author got too lazy trying to figure out a better way to include it in this fic.”

“...He just says shit sometimes. Don’t mind him, Logan.”

“I’m well aware. You’re a weirdo, bub.”

“Thank you! I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, if I remember right—SHIT!!!”

“What?!”

“The fuck’s happening?!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! There’s a rat!”

“A RAT?!”

“Althea, where did you get that gun—put it down!”

“POINT ME TO THE FUCKING RAT!”

“Al, put the fucking gun down!”

“GET RID OF THE RAT FIRST!”

“Arf!”

“Mary, don’t touch that thing!”

“Fuckin’ hell, bub, grab Mary while I—”

BANG!

“AL, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE—”

“Arf-arf! Rrrrruff!”

“WADE, GRAB THE GODDAMN DOG!”

“NO, GET THE FUCKING RAT FIRST!”

“Mary—!”

BANG!

“AH!!!”

“Althea!”

“Jack Kirby’s giant ballsack!”

“Did I get it?!”

“Fuck no! You hit me, you empty-eyed, shit-for-aim walking corpse!”

“Rrrrrrafff!”

“Logan, keep her from shooting this way!”

“Just let me aim for the fucking rat!”

“Althea, please just hand me—”

“Get your goddamn hands off my glock!”

“Then stop shooting!”

“Mary, wait—!”

BANG!

“Rrrrrragghhh!”

“Ho. ly. shit.”

“What the fuck happened? Did I get it? Is it dead?!”

“You’re such a good girl, yes, you are!”

“He better not be talking to me, I swear to god.”

“Little miss angel face here just caught our uninvited guest!”

“Grrrrrr.”

“Wade, get that thing out of her mouth before it catches rabies from her.”

“Wow, rude, she doesn’t have rabies! Also, I’m pretty sure it’s already dead. She’s got no teeth but a hell of a bite, don’t you, my lovely bundle of herpes and joy?”

“Just get the fucking thing out of here!”

“Ugh, fine, jeez louise—come here, girl. You did such a good job, yes you did! Thank you for killing that thing! Now, let’s go toss it out.”

“The dog caught the rat?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Well...I guess it can stay then.”

“Really? The dog’s already in your good graces?”

“You’re the one who tried grabbing my gun.”

“Because you were shooting everywhere!”

“And now you’re arguing with me!”

“...My apologies, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

“Just keep your word and it’s alright.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alrighty! Time to go look for that bed again.”

“Anybody want a beer?”

“Can you grab me one, Logan?”

“You already finished that whole can?!”

“‘Course I did. All that shit gave me headache.”

“Welcome to a day in the life of Deadpool and Blind Al, peanut!”

“I did this to myself. I chose to come here. How the fuck did that happen?”

“I wonder the same damn thing all the time.”

“Your beer.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“I can’t believe it’s been less than five minutes and both of you are already ganging up on me!”

“S’not hard to.”

“My Wolvie is so mean! Aha, here it is! I knew I still had the old thing. Here you go, my fearless guard dog.”

“It was a rat, not an intruder, Wade.”

“She protected the house and killed that pest. She’s practically a guardian angel!”

“Eh, good enough for me.”

“See, Al gets it!”

“I still ain’t looking after that thing.”

“That’s fine. Logan and I will!”

“I did not sign up for that.”

“You did when you agreed to crash with me!”

“Is he always like this, Althea?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Make yourself cozy, Logan, because it only gets better from here!”

“God help me.”

“God help us all.”

“Arf!”

[sakuraharukaaa]

just a short, fluffy fanfic about my baby son that I wrote in like an hour ♥♥ too lazy to publish on ao3 for now, but maybe later

word count: 1197 words

It’s the smallest things in life. The little things that slowly creep into his daily life until they become a part of his routine. 

People are so adaptable, Haruka can’t help but think. It’s somewhat of a motto, though the connotation used to be negative in the past. He used to think of himself as someone durable who can withstand whatever life throws on him. He always believed that staying firm would keep him safe in the troubling currents of life. He didn’t realize that he, too, can change so much. 

It starts with Nirei, who shows him a pack of tea he got the day earlier. 

“It’s my favorite!” He says ever so enthusiastically. He insists on Haruka drinking it. 

But I don’t like tea that much. It stands on the tip of his tongue, yet he doesn’t say it. The taste is just okay. Barely passable, if he’d be honest, but for some reason he cannot refuse when Nirei shoves the almost-full box into his hands. 

He writes it off as something to put in his cabinet, a single box in an empty shelf – what a laughable idea. He can’t really drink it though, since he doesn’t own a kettle.

Suou is always too perceptive. Haruka finds it mildly annoying, especially when he sticks too close to Nirei. Something about an instinct to tell him off, to tell him that Haruka knew him first, and he shouldn’t be so chummy with Nirei. 

Whatever. 

That weasel approaches a couple of days later, talking about Nirei’s favorite tea, because of course he’d know about it. 

“It is quite good, I was surprised.” His smile is odd and sometimes uncomfortable, but Haruka learned to live with it. The hostility wasn’t targeted towards him, it’s just a general warning. “You should drink good tea in a good cup.” 

So he gives Haruka a weird mug with some calligraphy on it. It’s not legible, in no way it is, and Haruka still doesn’t own a kettle. 

He mentions the kettle debacle – off handedly, really – to Kotoha, and she immediately breaks into laughter. It’s a strange noise and he’s about to comment about it, when she suddenly stops. 

“Hold on, do I have an old one?” She speaks quietly, more to herself rather than to him. “It has to be an electric one.” And she leaves for the back storage room without saying a thing. 

Trust her to be a problem solver, of course. She emerges from the storage room with an old, gray kettle. 

“You have to be careful with the cord.” She says with a shy smile that doesn’t suit her. “If you pull too strongly on it, it will expose the wires.” And only then Haruka notices the tape around the end of the cord, a shoddy fix he assumes. 

Honestly? It’s better than nothing. 

So he takes the kettle. 

(Haruka doesn’t even like tea, he’s more of a coffee guy. 

He could make coffee with the kettle in his home, if he so desires, but it takes a long time until he realizes that. By then, he finds an appropriate excuse – he cannot make coffee as good as Kotoha’s with this old thing. 

Better stick to the tea.)

The next one is Umemiya, who somehow heard about the kettle incident. Probably got the information from Kotoha by torture (read: annoying her). He thinks it’s okay to turn it into a charity case, or so Haruka assumes because he never truly understands him. 

So he stops Haruka after a long, long day where nothing worked out, and his big, dumb smile is too blinding right now. 

“I hear you’re furnishing your room!” He’s far too energetic and Haruka grits his teeth. 

APARTMENT, not room, he almost says, and he doesn’t believe that a single box of tea and an ugly mug and an old kettle warrant the use of the word furnishing. It’s literally three items. 

“I thought I’d give you this!” At first Haruka doesn’t realize what this is, until he notices that the hand holding a pot is extended towards him. 

“No way.” He flat out refuses. He can’t believe he was called to the rooftop for this shit. Behind Umemiya, Hiragi is giving him a resigned sympathetic look. 

Umemiya has plenty of reasons why he should take the plant – of course he does! – and at some point Hiragi exasperatedly signs him to give up. 

His pride takes somewhat of a hit when he comes home with that plant that evening. 

(Sugishita gave him a watering can. 

That bastard actually gave him a watering can. 

He doesn’t say anything but he leaves it on Haruka’s desk alongside fucking four pages of how to take care of plants. 

Jesus Christ.)

It’s after a training session when he goes around the neighborhood with Kaji on a semi-patrol (more like an excuse to get candies because Kaji was running low and Haruka didn’t want to test his patience). Haruka doesn’t eat that stuff so he buys a drink at the vending machine next to the store. When he puts the change straight into his pocket, he catches Kaji’s slanted eyes judging him. 

“Really? That’s barbaric.” And Haruka has to summon all of his self restraint to stop himself from saying that Kaji is the barbaric one for making the nasty lump on the back of Haruka’s head. He doesn’t need another one to match the first. 

The next day, he receives a coin purse. A bit worn out at the seams, but it looks it was taken good care of. He is silent when Kaji hands him that, already knowing not to put up a fight. 

Haruka, unfortunately, doesn’t like coin purses or wallets, so he leaves it on the window sill, next to the plant. It doesn’t feel like it belongs inside the kitchen’s cabinets, so the window sill it is. 

Over the next weeks, it becomes worse. He gets a phone case from Kiryuu – a pink one with cherry blossoms to match his name, and he gets a huge water bottle from Tsugeura that was supposed to have some motivational quote on it, but Suou points out the English doesn’t make sense. When the other guys catch wind of that, they start giving him small things too. It is mostly stationary, but some of his classmates went to town on it. Someone gave him a small radio, which was neat and actually useful, but on the other hand, he got a fucking fork with a handle that was painted like a train. He did use it though, because no one was there to judge him for that when he was eating, and it certainly was more useful than the hot girl calendar he got. 

It’s all so odd when he’s home during the weekend, and he’s drinking tea from his ugly mug and eating with his train fork and staring at the plant on his window sill. It did grow nicely, that he has to admit, and somewhere along the way, it grew on him. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to take on that offer for a second plant though. 

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 34/34 - epilogue

[Read on AO3]

Greenwich, CT

May 2001

-.-.-

“Smile at the camera, sweetheart!” Mulder calls, holding the camcorder up in front of him and peering through the viewfinder. “You too, beautiful.”

Scully pauses her search for seashells with Madeline, tapping the little girl on the shoulder and showing her where to look. As soon as she spots him, a chubby little finger points in his direction, her face lighting up in a smile, and with his free hand, he waves back.

“Hi Miss Madeline!” he says, zooming in on the two of them as they go back to their search for seashells in the sand. “Are you having fun?” He pans down to the gentle waves as they lap at the shoreline, coming closer and closer and finally tickling at the toes of Maddie and Scully, eliciting a shriek of joy from the now toddling one-year-old.

“Is it cold?” he asks.

“A little cold, still,” Scully answers, leading their daughter by the hand a little further from the ocean. He zooms back out, capturing the full picture of this lovely New England beach as it nears sundown, the warmth starting to fade along with the light.

“How about this one?” a soft, older voice cuts in, walking carefully over the sand toward little Maddie, who holds out her hand in acceptance. Teena Mulder leans down and places a large white seashell in her hand, which little Maddie thoroughly inspects.

“Did Grandma find a big one, baby?” Mulder asks, walking closer to his family to get a better look at the spoils of their seashell hunting trip.

Maddie holds it up for the camera. “Ah!” she answers, tugging at Scully’s hand to bring her closer to her dad.

“Oh, look at that!” he says enthusiastically, widening his eyes comically. She grunts and stretches her arm out as far as it will go—her way of telling him she wants to give him something. He chuckles and holds out his hand, accepting her gift with a wide brimming smile. “Thank you, sweet pea. Should Daddy hold onto that for you?”

Scully’s lips pull back in a smile as she looks up at him. “I think that’s probably a good idea,” she answers for Maddie.

Mulder tucks the shell into his pocket, pressing the record button on the camcorder and checking that there’s still battery left before looping the strap over his shoulder.

“Alright, Daddy’s turn, little stinker,” he says, grabbing Maddie by the hands and lifting her into the air. She squeals in delight, swinging in an arc until he plops her back down in the shallowest bit of water where the sea meets the shore.

“Mulder, you’re gonna get the camera wet!” Scully calls out, her brow slanted in either worry or disapproval.

Maddie stomps around in the water, giggling at the way it splashes up when she does.

“Did you hear that, Maddie?” Mulder asks in mock alarm, addressing his question directly to his daughter, though speaking loud enough for Scully to hear. “Mommy thinks I’m going to drop this expensive camcorder into two inches of water, can you believe it?!”

Madeline gapes up at him, clearly having no clue what he’s talking about, but just happy to be included.

“I did not say you’d drop it,” Scully corrects, pursing her lips and crossing her arms in that way that he’s always thought looked so adorable, especially with how tiny she is.

Mulder walks Maddie back over to the others, silently handing her and the camera off to his mother with a playful glint in his eye.

“You’re worried about getting the camera wet, Scully?” he asks, his voice dangerously low as he approaches her, taking one long, drawn out step at a time.

“Mulder, don’t,” Scully warns, suddenly catching on to this game he’s playing, but she’s too late. She tries to escape, but he grabs her around the middle and lifts her into the air, taking off toward the ocean with laughter on his breath. 

He bridal carries her as he wades out into the water, the salty seawater soaking up to his knees. The cold temperature invigorates him—makes him feel alive. Or maybe it’s the pleading screeches of his wife as she yells at him to take her back in between irrepressible fits of giggles.

She clings onto him for dear life, lifting her feet so they don’t dangle into the brisk ocean as he comes to a sudden stop.

“I think this is far enough,” he says thoughtfully, looking around them with a contemplative gaze.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, her jaw dropping open. She can pretend to be aghast by his actions all she wants—she can’t hide that underlying amusement that pulls at the corners of her lips.

“Sorry, honey,” he says, meeting her eyes with a shrug. And with that, he drops her into the water.

She comes up gasping, her mouth open wide in disbelief that he’d really gone through with it.

“Mulder!” she yells, wiping water from her eyes and smoothing her hair back out of her face. He doubles over laughing, unable to restrain himself. “Help me up,” she demands, reaching her hand out for him to grab on to.

He acquiesces, gripping her slippery fingers with both hands, and pulling, but instead of pulling her up, he finds himself being yanked downward, and it’s not long before he, too, has pants full of sand.

“You happy now?” he asks, resigned to his fate.

“No!” she shrieks, her brows raised to her forehead. Water drips down and gets caught in her eyelash, and she wipes it away, fighting back a smile. “I’m all wet, Mulder!” she complains. “We have to drive back to your mom’s house like this!”

“So what?” he says, pulling her toward him by the waist. He presses a firm kiss to her cold lips, warming them with his own for a moment before pulling back. His fingertips tease at her sides, causing her to squirm away.

He remembers the day he found out Scully was ticklish. One of the greatest days of his life, for sure.

“Mulder…” she complains, though this time with a little less fervor. The waves crash against them incessantly, occasionally splattering one of them with a splash of seawater to the eye.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, this time actually helping her to her feet. “I’ll wrap you in a big fuzzy blanket as soon as we get home, I promise.” He gives her one final peck on the lips once they’re upright again, and leads her by hand back to the shore, where his mother watches on in amusement.

“Was that really the best decision, Fox?” she asks, her scrutinizing eyes traveling over their soaked clothing and back up to their reddened faces.

Best decision? No. That honor goes to the day he’d decided to pursue adoption with Scully. This family—one of their own making—that was the best decision he’d ever made. Nothing else would ever come close.

But having a little fun, dumping her in the water and getting absolutely soaked…? Well, he’d never regret anything that made Scully laugh. From the first moment he heard it in the graveyard in Bellefleur, it’s been his life’s mission to hear it again. In the past year, he’s succeeded more times than he can count.

“No regrets,” he declares proudly, pressing a kiss to the back of Scully’s hand, still intertwined with his own.

Teena shakes her head in fond disdain, setting Madeline down on the sand so that she can focus on walking over the uneven terrain back to the car. Maddie reaches up with both of her hands, and Mulder grabs one while Scully grabs the other. 

“Wet!” she says, her little forehead pinching in concern, the word apparently one of the few that she knows.

Mulder shakes his head over top of her, sprinkling her with water droplets from his hair and causing her to shriek. “No!” she squeals. “No, Da-da!”

Scully laughs, her feet slipping a bit in the sand as she walks.

“Come on, now, you two can’t team up on me!” Mulder protests.

“You’re outnumbered, Mulder,” Scully points out, and he heaves an exaggerated sigh.

By the time they get back to Teena Mulder’s house—only a short drive away—the seats of their car are damp with seawater and Scully has informed him that he’ll be the one cleaning it when they get back to their house in Virginia. He responds with, “Yes, dear,” a phrase that never fails to make her roll her eyes.

Madeline falls asleep on the ride home, clutching the seashell that Grandma Mulder had found in her hand like a stuffed animal. As much as they hate to put her in bed still covered in salt and sand from the ocean, they really don’t want to wake her, so they do the best they can to clean her off before setting her down in the travel crib they brought. It’s their last day anyway. The sheets can be cleaned.

Scully gives him first dibs on the shower, biding her time by packing up the little room they’ve shared at his mother’s house for the past week. He re-emerges feeling like a new man, free from that grimy feeling of being covered in salt.

Her shower takes longer than usual. He starts to miss her, not wanting to go to bed without her, but feeling the undeniable call of the down mattress and pillows. 

He knocks on the door, asking her if she’s almost finished.

She opens it slowly, holding a piece of plastic in her hands and looking astonished.

He glances down at it, two blue lines the same color as the paint in his mother’s coastal-themed guest bathroom beaming up at him.

He’s not sure whether he should laugh or cry at first. She looks up at him, uncertainty darkening her face, and he settles for scooping his wife into his arms, rocking her back and forth in complete disbelief.

After he’s taken a moment to absorb this new information, he pulls back, holding her in place and grinning uncontrollably down at her.

“Scully, do you ever get the feeling that the universe is laughing at us?” he asks, chuckling a little as he takes in the glow that he’s just now noticing around her.

“I don’t know if the universe is capable of laughing, Mulder,” she responds in her shaky voice, ever the skeptic. “But someone definitely is.”

“Well, Dana,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead and splaying his hand over her abdomen. “I was just thinking about how much I missed the newborn stage.”

~~~

end.

~~~

I have so much to say, and I don't know where to start. Apologies in advance for the long author's note.

To all of you who have read and commented here and on AO3 (I'm still a bit in shock over just how many of you there are), thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your response has meant the world to me, and to know you've looked forward to updates just as I have for stories by authors I look up to… Well, it's humbling.

Since I started writing fanfiction a decade ago, I've always wanted to find the patience and inspiration to write a proper slow burn and have people follow along. Now, this turned out even longer than I expected it to--and at times during the three months it took to write, I felt like I had overestimated my patience to keep writing--but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Checking this one off my bucket list!

To @numinousmysteries: Your help with beta reading and offering suggestions is so appreciated. I've never written anything of this magnitude before, and your encouragement was a much-needed reassurance prior to posting this. I think the story is better off having taken into account your advice, so for that, I am so grateful.

To all X-Philes: I am continuously amazed by how alive this fandom is over 30 years later. You have been so welcoming. I only watched the show for the first time in February 2023, so while I'm still fairly new around here, it doesn't really feel like it.

Now, to answer the question some of you have been asking… Will there be more?

At this time, I don't have anything planned and am not sure when I'll be writing again, but I certainly have some ideas. The way the final two chapters came together obviously skips over what could be some important or at least interesting character moments (Charlie comes to mind, as well as the whole Scully clan). If inspiration strikes, of course I'd love to expand this story into it's own series, probably consisting of mostly one-shots.

I also think it would be fun to take prompts on here for scenes you'd like to see in this universe. No promises on how quickly I'll get to them, but why not--if you have something in mind, feel free to send me an ask and I'll try to get to them as the muse hits. If I do, they'll be posted here and on AO3.

This is turning into a "midwest goodbye" of an author's note, so… Okay, that's it. Yeah. Thanks again for reading. Till next time!

<3

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [thank you all for following along and/or letting me clog your notifications for a month!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[cinderella-ish]

My evolving thoughts on who Yuki should've ended up with, and fanfic's role in changing my mind

So, I want to talk about Yuki Sohma.

Yuki is the member of the main trio in Fruits Basket with whom I most identify. I have little in common with both Tohru and Kyo, and it took me several watches and read-throughs to start to understand their characters/arcs. (I love them, don't get me wrong! I just didn't fully appreciate the depth of their characters/arcs until maybe my third time through the series.)

Yuki, on the other hand, not only had many external qualities in common with me, but the way he grew mirrored some of the ways I changed in early adulthood. His arc felt true to my life, and so he was my favorite character from my first exposure to Fruits Basket.

When I started reading fanfic, I initially limited myself to canon compliant or limited canon-divergence fics, but eventually, I dipped my toes into some alternate pairings. Interestingly, while I truly can't see Tohru with anyone but Kyo, and I can only see Kyo with someone other than Tohru in very specific circumstances, Yuki seems to work with almost everyone he gets paired with. I mean, Yuki and Machi are my OTP, yet I have probably read (and bookmarked) every Yuki/Kakeru fic on Ao3, and some of the most beautiful fanfic I've ever read is Yuki/Kyo.

This confused me at first. Deeply. If Yuchi is my OTP, why do I devour every Yukeru and Yukyo fic?

Well, I think that's because Yuki's arc is, among other things, one where he rejects compulsory romance. This is made explicit in the Cinderella-ish story (why yes this is my favorite part of Fruits Basket, why do you ask?), where he quite literally rejects the role of the prince - the role that's been put onto him by others through the series. I think his arc would have been complete without him ending up with Machi, but there are things about their relationship that make his ending so much more satisfying. In stories where he ends up with Kakeru or Kyo, Machi almost always appears as an important friend for him. I think, for him, having strong bonds outside the Sohmas that he forged on his own was the point, rather than ending up in a relationship.

Anyway, with that out of the way, here are my thoughts on the five most common Yuki pairings on Ao3!

Yuki/Machi

Yes. I love them. 1000/10.

Okay, so the one criticism I have of Yuki/Machi is that Yuki is strongly gay-coded throughout the series, and it would've been awesome to see that play out in the way it was set up. I think that's a huge part of why I connected with Yuki - his arc definitely reminded me of my own experience coming to terms with my own queerness. For more on this, see this exceptional post by @yunsoh

But there are so many moments between them that make me swoon. The chalk scene, first and foremost. I used that scene to talk to my partner about how to support me when my OCD or ADHD is bad. Then there's scene where Yuki figures out why Machi destroys things, then asks to make footprints in the snow together (and tells her he's proud of her! and sees how hard she's worked!). The way he bought her Mogeta memorabilia or figured out she likes red or understood her intent when she chased him around the school to give him a flower and just ended up getting angry at him. The way he understood she bought Tohru a bath set because it's what she would want, just because Kakeru made a similar remark. The way he lit up when he saw Machi's trashed apartment - "the sea of despair."

And the way Machi understood and empathized with Yuki. The way he lit up and started laughing when she called him an airhead. The way she said it took someone like him to notice someone like her. The way she opened up to him and always sought him out. The way Kakeru shipped them. The way he knew she would miss him if he were to disappear, and the way being a support to her was something he needed for himself. The way she accepted him as he actually was, and not the way he thought he was supposed to be. The way she broke the door down with a chair when Yuki was trapped in the storage room. The way he teased her!

They've both been put in seemingly desirable positions within their families, yet those positions are responsible for so much of their pain and trauma. They get each other at a deep level. There's a mutuality to their relationship that Yuki desperately needed. I love them so much!

PS: if you also love Yuki/Machi, come find me on Ao3! I'll be posting some Yuchi content later this week!

Yuki/Kakeru

They have a fantastic and fun dynamic, and they are always touching each other. Kakeru is Yuki's confidant and someone who makes Yuki feel safe in being himself, flaws and all. They help each other grow - Yuki helps Kakeru be more empathetic, and Kakeru helps Yuki become more comfortable with himself. I think this pairing would have also been a satisfying end for Yuki, full stop. I love them, and I will read all your Yukeru fics, please and thank you. (Also, lots of Yukeru writers are just really good writers, so there are some gorgeous works for them.)

Yuki/Kyo

So, I didn't get why this ship was so popular at first, but then I was reminded that Yuki's first thought when he met Kyo was "pretty!" They both secretly admired each other, they're written as foils for each other, and there's a reason enemies to lovers is so popular (and it's called sexual tension).

There's a Yuki/Kyo fic that I'd credit with showing me what fanfic can really do - especially in the ways it expanded the universe, found its own way of handling the curse, and developed the relationship between the two boys in a way that also grew their characters. That fic is The Pursuit of Repeating History by @mistergrass

I do think that Yuki ending up with someone outside the Sohmas is more satisfying for his character arc than someone from the Sohma clan, but his relationship with Kyo is such a key part of his arc that this could be satisfying in its own right.

Yuki/Haru

I absolutely love the relationship these two have in canon. I love how Haru looks out for Yuki, and I love how he drives Yuki a bit crazy. I love how Haru tells Yuki the things he needs to hear, like that it's okay for him to focus on himself for a while, and I love how Yuki braves the Sohma estate to check on Haru. I also love the way Haru can read Yuki like a book.

Haru's words to Yuki about finding someone who will appreciate his fragility and kindness are always so touching. Haru is almost a mentor to Yuki, in a way, or a fairy godmother. (Or a long lost sister?) The fact that he was the one who got Yuki out of isolation at the hands of Akito, or that he was the one person who would check on him just speaks to the strength of his loyalty to Yuki.

I take Haru's statement of "Yuki was my first love" seriously, because he tells Yuki he is serious when Yuki warns him people will take him seriously when he says that. I know there's an argument to be made that Haru is just being his weird self, but that gives me and they were roommates vibes.

Unfortunately, most of the Yuki/Haru fics are dubcon with Dark Haru, which is not something I enjoy reading. What I'd really love to read is an AU where they're together in high school or later, or something that explores Haru's early feelings for Yuki, or just something that explores interesting sides of their characters that are brought out when they're together.

I don't think this would be a terribly satisfying end for Yuki, but I do really love their dynamic.

Yuki/Tohru

Okay, so, full disclosure: I was #teamyuki when I first watched Fruits Basket. Yet now, they're the only pairing on this list that I don't like. Why? Well, as I said above, Yuki's arc is much about rejecting this specific compulsory romance.

Compulsory how? Well, from the beginning, the series seems like it's setting up a love triangle, but kind of tells us (more and more explicitly as the series goes on) that things are not what they seem.

I think the series does a phenomenal job of making the reader/viewer complicit in placing this compulsory romance onto Yuki. A brief aside, making the reader/viewer complicit in the thing a story is criticizing is one of the most effective ways to criticize something, IMO, because it doesn't let the reader/viewer off the hook. We don't get to say, "Look at them, they're so foolish!" We're forced to examine our own expectations and acknowledge that we were made a fool of, too.

I totally got tingles at the spa scene (pictured above), even though upon rewatch, it's obvious how much of an act it is on Yuki's part, and how uncomfortable it makes Tohru. In fact, many of their most "romantic" moments, where the shojo bubbles appear and everything, are when Tohru is acting in an explicitly motherly way to Yuki, and he awkwardly tries to flirt because he's either misinterpreting his feelings or in denial about them.

I also thought his line, "that isn't what I want!" when he tells Kakeru about his true feelings for Tohru is one of the most powerful moments in the series. It's the moment he's finally letting go of being the Princely character and choosing to be himself, for himself, because he deserves to be known and accepted - something he'd never fully believed until that moment.

I think part of why I was initially #teamyuki was because I came to Fruits Basket through the anime first, where much of the development of his relationship with Machi was cut. Also, as I said above, I didn't really get the characters of Kyo and Tohru right away, and I think that prevented me from seeing the power of their romance. The True Form arc was a key moment that I truly didn't understand until several viewings/readings later.

So, all of that is why I don't care for this pairing. I get why people do, but I do feel it undermines Yuki's agency and his character arc. It's a pairing that makes me sad when I see it, as if this character I love has taken a step backward.

(Incidentally, I've been wanting to write a fic where the True Form arc plays out differently and Yuki takes longer to realize the nature of his feelings for Tohru. I truly wonder how he would've come to that understanding without witnessing her running after Kyo. Would he have tried dating her? Would it have been a total disaster?)

Other pairings and larger relationship structures

Out of the other pairings I found, the only one I'm genuinely curious about is Yuki with Saki Hanajima. I'll have to go read those fics. They are each the "cold" half of a "hot/cold" duo (the "hot" halves being Kyo and Arisa, who are basically the same person). I'm very curious what led people to pair them in the handful of fics about them!

(Interestingly, I think it's possible to read Saki and Arisa both as having a bit of sexual tension with Kyo, but not with Yuki.)

The others include Akito, Ayame, Hatori, and Shigure - all pairings that would have a noncon/dubcon element due to Yuki's age, and that's before you get into the specific traumas that these characters have inflicted on Yuki, or the inherent power dynamics between them, or the close familial relationship with Ayame, etc...

The trio relationships are all intriguing and full of possibility. Yuki/Tohru/Kyo? Obviously. Yuki/Kakeru/Kimi? Potential for lots of wackiness. Yuki/Kyo/Haru? Could be the next Mabudachi trio.

(No shade to anyone who enjoys fics with the pairings or tropes I don't like! This blogger believes in "don't like, don't read.")