#April Fools Fanfiction

[secret-fiction]

Sonic Boom: Those Who're Made Fools

As April Fools day is upon them, Sonic the Hedgehog and his friends must content with a series of pranks that go a little farther than they would like.

Below is a oneshot Sonic Boom Fanfiction that I started and finished today, April fools day 2024. I have not time to edit because my scope for this got out of hand, so I'll share it now as to release it within Apr 1st my time. I'll release an edited version later this week. _________________________

While Sonic the Hedgehog would usually be sleeping in, the cool breeze blowing through his hut and swaying the hammock he lay on beckoned him awake. He declined this request to wake up at a normal time and curled up further. However his body began to shiver and his mind was dragged into enough consciousness to realize that the cool breeze was actually a freezing wind. His eyes shot open, seeing a light flurry of snowflakes blowing over him, already building up drifts in his beachside hut.

“What the f-, flakes? Snow??” said Sonic as he wobbled while standing up.

The warm light of sunrise was peering through his windows and the island outside looked as tropical as it should. The culprit, Sonic deduced, was likely the large yellow painted machine that looked like a window air-conditioner if it were on an industrial scale. 

A letter lifted off of the pile of mail he kept strewn on the ground and into his face. It was the invitation to Amy’s birthday event this evening. Thus, it was also April Fools day.

“Either Tails actually got his sleep schedule in check just to get me first, or I need to have a chat with him about staying up all night again,” said Sonic aloud, ears turning to listen for any unseen listener. 

The wind then picked up, and the snow flurries began to sting as they struck him. In fact it was more of a semi-frozen rain now. Everything in Sonic’s hut was quickly being coated with bits of water and ice which then turned into a slick layer over everything. He grumbled and shivered, then dashed to his door to find the off switch. The machine however blocked the entire doorway, and there were no controls on the side facing Sonic.

“Aw what the heck?!” Sonic tried to push the machine out of his door but found his feet slipping on the frozen and wet floor. “TAILS! I don’t wanna break your new toy here, but I will!”

Sonic heard no response aside from the torrent of wind and freezing rain, which grew strong enough to send him slipping onto his face and sliding away to the far wall. He grumbled, stood up, and placed his feet on the wall. With one strong kick he spin-dashed into the machine, sending pieces of it flying as it fell out of his doorframe. 

“Brrr, jeez,” said Sonic as he stood up and looked around, seeing no sign of Tails, “don’t tell me he already ran off to prepare another prank. This one was already a bit much… Guess I’ll have to teach him a lesson on restraint…”

With resolve filling his eyes, Sonic the Hedgehog took off running across the beach in a blur. The machine was left behind on his front porch, a problem for later perhaps.

A potential problem for Sonic immediately descended from a hidden perch in the trees of the jungle to the machine. They fluttered with insectoid wings and had a green colour to match the jungle canopy. They landed atop Tails’ machine, and yanked a kunai dagger out of the machine's control panel before returning heading for their next target.

____________

The drone of power tools echoed throughout Tails’ workshop as usual while he assembled a new gadget. Progress was going good by his insane standards of pacing, so he took a step back to look over the device. Lifting the goggles off of his eyes, which bore a giddiness bright enough to almost hide his dark eyebags. This projector he was modifying would surely be perfect for setting the mood at Amy’s event this evening. All he needed to do now was program a remote for ease of use, something he was learning other cared about when using technology, and then-

A swinging sound from his mail chute on the door pulled Tails’ attention away. Could it be Sonic’s counter attack already? He chuckled to himself, picturing Sonic popping out of a pile of harmless snow with a dumbfounded look on his face. Upon approach however he saw that it was clearly from Amy. It bore fancy calligraphy for the address and her custom rose wax seal which was slightly cracked, likely from its journey. 

“Oh, she must be excited,” muttered Tails to himself before biting the letter to open it with his teeth. 

Tails immediately regretted his lazy choice of letter opening when a pink cloud of a gas blasted from the letter and filled the workshop, and his mouth. The taste of floral air freshener made him gag and spit. Then the overwhelming smell filled his nose. It should smell pleasant, but the flower scent was so overwhelming and suffocating that Tails had to cover his snout. He then scrambled for the nearest window. 

“What The FLYING FFff-!” Tails gritted his teeth and compressed his fit into a soft growl. 

One by one Tails swung each window open. Then he opened the garage door of the hangar portion of the workshop. That didn’t dilute the air freshener smell fast enough so he turned on every industrial fan he could. Soon he resorted to his emergency eye and face wash station, shoving a pile of boxes that surrounded it out of the way. The torrent of water on his face face made his eyes stop stinging so bad and got most of the taste out of his mouth. But his nose was still completely overwhelmed. 

“I can’t work like this!! Why should I work like this?!” said Tails as he shook the water off of his head. 

The ring of his doorbell drew Tails’ irritated red eyes to the door. Opening it revealed a fast food bag of which he couldn’t smell at all sitting on his welcomemat. This was definitely another prank, and the fact that he was hungry now that he thought about him annoyed him more. So he leaned forward and kicked the bag away before turning to slam his door shut.

“Hey woah!” said Sonic, jumped down from atop the workshop roof, “what’s up? Not hungry?”

Tails glared at Sonic, and glanced at the bucket of ice and snow in Sonic grasp.

“Okay to be fair you really-” Sonic coughed and waved a hand in front of his muzzle, “wow bud isn’t that a bit much air freshener? It’s kinda distracting.” 

“Yes! And I guess Amy thinks that’s funny, since evidently you had a much more lazy prank in mind,” said Tails.

“Amy?” said Sonic, “She usually doesn’t take time for anything more elaborate than what you can buy at the joke store.”

“Yeah, except when she asks for help with her party tonight.” Tails walked to his work table and plugged his nose with tissue paper before pushing the projector project aside. “Let’s see how she likes my help now, heheheh…”

“Tails you’re getting a bit maniacal,” said Sonic, “seriously, don’t go overboard again. It just smells a bit too nice in here.”

“You don’t mess with someone's sense of smell and get off easy,” said Tails.

“Okay, well, can I ask your opinion on something first?” said Sonic

Tails turned to face Sonic, only to get a bit of half melted snow in his face. 

“I’ll ask for your help fixing my house later!” said Sonic before dropping the bucket and dashing away.

Tails grumbled, wiped the snow off his face, then grabbed any errant material he had lying around to build his revenge on Amy. After a moment or two he started thinking about what Sonic had said.

“...Fix his house? What?” 

In his state of sensory overload and anger, Tails failed to notice a figure move from the jungle canopy outside a nearby window. It stood tall, then began leaping between trees toward the village.

____________

The hum of Amy Rose’s voice trailed through her house as she happily prepared for the rest of the day. Her daily twenty-four step quill-styling routine was now ready, she was dressed, and every surface of the room was covered in decorations and snacks to be assorted. Sure she always had a bit of anxiety about the fact her birthday falls on the first of April, the day of fools fooling other fools. But that worry was now barely present after living the last couple years dealing with attacks from Dr. Eggman at any random time. 

Working out a block of time in her schedule to deal with an inevitable attack or crisis meant Amy had all the time she needed to still have a fun birthday. She smiled to herself while looking over a stack of colourful papers she had printed, it was hard to suppress her enthusiasm at having her friends over tonight. Truly the real power of one's birthday was the leverage it put everyone else to try your favorite forms of entertainment.

“Alright, let’s get this next part right,” said Amy to herself as she organized the papers, character sheets. “This is my one chance this year to convince the other that this’ll be fun. And this time I’m right.”

Amy’s smile faltered slightly as she remembered her failure to convince Sonic and the others that playing out her favorite musicals was fun. Really she should’ve known that’d be too much. This time though, a simple role playing game, she can get them to agree to do this more often.

A knock on her door made Amy jump and gasp with a smile. She waved her hands a bit to lower her giddiness, taking a deep breath. Then she skipped over to the door.

Greeting her outside was a basket with a bow on it, sitting just past her welcomemat. Amy’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly recognized Knuckles’ handwriting. “Hope you like these colourful rocks!” It wasn’t a romantic gesture from Sonic, but still nice. With a sigh and a soft smile she stepped forward to see what varieties of polished stones Knuckles had-

Her boot fell through her welcomemat, and Amy stumbled into the hole the had been hidden just under it. It was a short fall, but she landed on her face and splattered some liquid all over herself. It took a few seconds of sitting still to process what just happened.

“What the F-Ow…” said Amy, as she stood up, eyes stinging from the oily fluid coating her. “What is this stuff?”

The smell, and once her vision cleared, the black colouration showed Amy that this was actually just oil. Used oil, most likely motor oil, from a motor, filled with gunk, that was now in her quills… and her whole dress.

“Are, You, SERIOUS?!” shouted Amy, “isn’t this a bit much!?” 

Amy sighed, but tried not to let this ruin her mood. It was meant as harmless fun, even if it was ruining her morning. It wasn't usual for Knuckles to be that deceptive though, even though signs pointed to him being involved with how good he is at digging. Perhaps Tails put him up to this, considering the use of engine oil. But why would he? This is usually a thing between him and Sonic.

After a moment to glower, Amy decided to climb out of the small hole. The dirty motor oil made this tricky however, as she fell back in several times. By the time she heard the swishing of Tails’ tails mid flight, and a nefarious chuckle, she had worked through her patience.

“TAILS! Get down here this instant!!” 

Amy heard a gasp, then the patter of footsteps. Tails leaned over the hole and looked at her with a strange squint. She in turn gave him the most stern look she could.

“This is really obnoxious, especially for you!” said Amy.

“Yeah, like you don’t know a thing about obnoxious pranks,” said Tails, glancing away from Amy’s eye contact.

“There’s Motor Oil In My Quills Tails!!” said Amy.

Tails leaned out of Amy’s sight, she heard him put something down on her deck, before he leaned back over the hole. “Who put a hole full over motor oil here anyway?”

“...It wasn’t you?” 

“No! This is lazy, and just mean!” said Tails as she gestured energetically, “I’d at least be way more creative for something this mean! Or just less mean if I don’t have time to be creative.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your… prowess with pranking methods,” said Amy, “Please get me out of here.”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

With ease, Tails lifted Amy out of the hole and dropped her on the deck before landing himself. She pretended not to notice him immediately kicking a really haphazardly thrown together looking device out of sight. 

“Uh, Amy,” said Tails as he rubbed the back of his head, not noticing the oil stain he was leaving there from his glove, “do you happen to know anything about the perfume filling my workshop.”

“What? What happened?” said Amy.

Tails made eye contact with Amy, a look of anger quickly fading to regret. “I-I’m sorry, someone else must’ve put that perfume bomb in my mailbox then.”

“...Probably Eggman, right?”

“He… He’s not good at all at being that sneaky though…” Tails squinted as he looked at the hole, “And this does look like it was dug by claws, natural or those glove things people can get. And I guess Knuckles can be sneaky sometimes?”

“Okay but how would he do this without your help?” said Amy.

“...I dunno, could’ve gone to a mechanic,” said Tails, “But this is something he’d try to do to Sonic for April fools, not you.”

Just overhead, as Amy & Tails started talking about their problems, a sneaky individual leapt and flew away from the top of a palm tree. 

_________________

It was much easier for Knuckles to find specific rocks when they were in the ground. The polished stones he’d put in a gift basket for Amy evaded him in a way most minerals couldn’t. He’d been forced into retracing his steps to the best of his ability, now out on the jungle trails just outside of the Village. However all he could find was litter and Sticks’ traps.

“Oh come one gift basket, where’d you go?!” said Knuckles aloud, “I need you to be a good friend to Amy!”

The gift basket didn’t answer, only the rustling leaves did. Of course Knuckles could quickly gather some neat looking plants, but it wouldn’t have the same meaning to it. He slapped himself on the head trying to remember where he could’ve left the basket. After the week he spent picking out the perfect colourful stones it sickened him to just lose that gift. 

Searching the edges of the trail closely, Knuckles came across a tree with a nook inside it. The colours inside excited him for a moment, until he realized that it was only foraged fruit and not his basket of rocks. His stomach grumbled now, and the smell and look of the berries there enticed him. Then when he noticed a doodle carved in the bark next to the nook in the tree, depicting a simple Sticks the Badger giving a thumbs up, he smiled.

“Oh! Awesome! I really gotta thank Sticks for these snack stocks she leaves out.” said Knuckles

As Knuckles stepped close enough to reach into the nook of this tree, something snagged on his leg. He instinctively kicked, and felt something wrap tight around his leg and pull him upward. He gave a yell as the complex and well hidden snare trap hung him upside down from the top of the tree, several feet out of reach of the collection of berries. 

“Ah dang! I set off one of Sticks’ traps again…” said Knuckles as he folded his arms. “Wait, why was there a trap there, when there was a friendly and welcoming sign?! That’s like, the opposite of making sense!”

Knuckles grumbled to himself. If it took Sticks too long to find him then he’d have less time to find his gift basket. Then even less time to beat Sonic & Tails in the April Fools prank war.

“Wait, I think I know what’s going on…. Sticks is trying to make me an April Fool!” said Knuckles, slapping his face in shock. “Oh man I’ve never had to deal with a prank battle involving her before.”

“Knuckles! What’re you doing up there!” shouted the voice of Amy Rose.

“Amy?!” Knuckles looked down to see Amy with several paper towels in her hands and a bag over her shoulder. “Thank goodness you’re here! Sticks got me in a prank-snare thing! Who knows what she’ll do next!”

Amy’s eyes widened, then squinted. “Knuckles, Stick doesn’t do April Fools day!”

“Oh wait, really?”

“No, she stays in her burrow all day, remember?” 

Knuckles thought about that. He did begin to recall Sticks’ distaste for the idea of April Fools day the first time it was ‘explained’ to her. That was one crappy day, Sonic only barely survived. 

“Oh yeah!” Knuckles leaned up and grabbed the robe tied to his legs, then ripped it apart with his raw strength. He landed on his feet next to Amy and sighed in relief. “I was worried I’d have to stay up there all day. Good thing this rope doesn’t actually belong to Sticks.”

“Hey, I had a question for you,” said Amy.

“Oh yeah, I was gonna ask you about the oily smell but I can wait,” said Knuckles.

“...Yeah you didn’t dig that pit in front of my house then.”

“A pit?” 

“Yeah, sorry, I thought you tried and succeeded to prank me.”

“Oh wow! If I were you I’dve like, punched me in the snoz,” said Knuckles as he looked over just how messed up Amy’s quills were, “man, I’m glad you’re  so reasonable Amy, it’s nice knowing you have faith in the rest of us.”

“Heheh, yeah,” said Amy, tucking the bag over her shoulder behind herself. The spice-laden cupcakes inside will have to wait before burning someone's mouth up.

Seeing where Amy and Knuckles’ conversation was going, the hidden figure in the canopy fluttered away. Only one more member left to find. 

_____________

No amount of fresh air from outside could alleviate the tension in Sticks the Badger’s nerves. She’d just managed to will herself out the door of her burrow, knowing that the number of traps and practical alarms she’d placed around would warn of any intrusion. None of the others were going to mess with her this year, she knew that, they assured her and she trusted them. She desperately wanted to just trust them. 

“C’mon, you promised Amy you’d go to her party…” Sticks muttered, glaring down at her boots. 

The sound of a bell jingle made her ear twitch and her body stand even more tense than before. She glanced over, seeing no sign of anyone there. That upset her more than anything she could’ve seen prowling toward her burrow. Her teeth clenched together hard enough to become sore again.

Sticks looked in the direction of the other makeshift alarms, and more broadly the edges of the jungle near her burrow. To her relief and wraith, someone was here and it wasn’t only her. That camouflaged figure staying perfectly still in the trees evidently didn’t realize to what extent Sticks had memorized the area around her living space.

Being sure to not look to close in the direction of the figure, Sticks started walking into the jungle. The peripheral view she had gave her enough information about the size and shape of this stalking figure that she was confident about what to listen for. After only a few steps she heard the sound of it sticking to a new tree, a light thud very subtle but distinct from the tropical woodpeckers. 

“Heh, see, It’s not any of your friends,” Sticks muttered, trying then to steady her breath.

Based on the pace of when the figure hopped between trees, Stick knew exactly which snare to pass under. With a hand on her boomerang she listened as she walked. In short order, the figure fell into the trap as Sticks heard the snare suddenly tighten above her. She turned on her heel and threw the boomerang, letting herself snarl just a bit. 

The sight of a scarf and large insectoid wings is all Sticks could see of the figure through a cloud of blue glitter as they were pulled away into the air. Sticks heard a snap from her rope, and saw the figure dodge the boomerang and duck behind a tree. Then the boomerang came back and knocked the figure down, triggering a chain reaction among Sticks’ traps.

Nets and leaves went flying throughout the air as several trees sprung loose from the ropes of the traps. Sticks dived behind a safe tree and tried to watch the figure, but they managed to escape her sight and each trap they triggered. Eventually she heard the drone of their large wings as they disappeared into the jungle. The only sign they left behind was a spot of blue glitter on every tree they’d touched. 

“Sticks!” shouted Knuckles, “What was all that?! Are you alright”

“I’ve only heard legends, but if my guess is right… some sort of Ninja,” said Sticks.

Knuckles gasped, “a Ninja?! AWESOME!”

“Wait you’ve heard of ‘em?” said Sticks, “The rest of you hardly ever know what I’m talking about.”

“Well when you watch enough tv you learn what a Ninja is,” said Knuckles.

“TV? Darn, I should’ve known…” said Sticks as she walked out to find her boomerang, “wait, why’re you out here?”

“Oh yeah, Amy wanted me to find you. We have a problem.”

_________________

“Hoh Hoh Hoh!” laughed Dr. Eggman as he sat in his room of many monitors. On the largest screen the unfortunate situations of Sonic and his friends played out on loop. His assistants, Orbot and Cubot, waited patiently for him to get his fill of laughs in. As did the green Preying Mantis Ninja standing with their arms behind their back. 

“Look at his face as he slips on his face!” said Dr Eggman, hitting his control panel and laughing, “he’s helpless against a bit of wind and freezing rain! I gotta remember that!”

“Uh boss,” said Orbot, “now that we’ve played these recordings on loop 20 times, perhaps we ought to worry about what Sonic and the others are going to do to retaliate?”

“Oh yeah, what did you build for Sonic to blow up today boss?” said Cubot.

“I didn’t build anything for today,” said Dr. Eggman.

“But eeh… that means they’re gonna break something else,” said Cubot.

“No you nincomputer!” Dr. Eggman stood up from his fancy swiveling chair, “they don’t even know who’s responsible for the appropriation of their pranks! It’s genius you see!”

“But sir, who else would antagonize them like that other than you?” said Orbat.

“Why this mischievous freelancer of course!” said Dr. Eggman, putting one of his hand on the Mantis’ shoulder and giving them a friendly shake.

“I did in fact sabotage their joy today,” said The Mantis, standing stiff and waiting for Dr. Eggman to release them.

“Yes you did! And you got four out five of them! That's four stars out of five in my book! I knew I wouldn’t regret hiring you out of that catalog.”

“Oh yeah, you were like ‘I better not regret this!’” said Cubot, taking up an Eggman-like pose.

Dr. Eggman glared at Cubot, then coughed and turned to look down at the Mantis. “Your contract said I’ve got your services for the whole day, yes?”

“I am standing here for that reason, yes,” said the Mantis.

“Good, now let’s show them who’s really responsible for their misfortune! I’ll even let you partake in gloating with me!” said Dr. Eggman.

“I do not have ‘gloat’ in my skillset. Thus I would perform poorly at that task,” said the Mantis.

“...I can teach you a bit about it on the way.”

___________________

“Alright team, if we’re going to have fun during my birthday, and Sonic & Tails are gonna have a fair ‘battle of annoyance,’ we gotta deal with that person who's trying to ruin our day!” said Amy Rose to the rest of Team Sonic. They had assembled at the Teams agreed DPZ, De-Prankified Zone, the Meh Burger dining lot. 

“Who, other than Eggman, would go to these lengths anyway?” said Tails, “that’s what’s really bothering me. Have we done anything to someone recently?”

“Well there’s people who get ‘parasocially angry’,” said Sonic with finger quotes. “Could be literally anyone who doesn’t vibe with our brand of swagger and has no life of their own.”

“Ninja’s are notoriously without a life,” said Knuckles. 

“And good at blending in…” said Sticks, turning and eyeing a family sitting at a nearby table with suspicion.

“That I have seen,” said Sonic.

“Oh yeah, did you manage to hire-” started Amy, before the attention-demanding voice of Dr. Eggman rudely interrupted her. 

“MUAHAHAHAH!” bellowed Dr. Eggman from his flying eggmobile. His threatening presence caused the other patrons of meh burger to steadily flee, after only gathering their food, napkins, and food packets. “Have you had misfortune today Sonic?”

“Are you going to have some misfortune?” said Sonic, leaning forward but staying seated.

“Not today, Hedgehog! For you see, I have the upper hand.”

Some patrons scooted by the teams table as Tails said “Have you actually built a badnik we haven’t seen before, or are you just trying to hype up Mega again?”

“Grr, I don’t use that one that often!” said Dr. Eggman

“Uh, yeah, you kinda do,” said Sonic.

“It’s frankly embarrassing how often you pull out the same badniks on us,” said Amy, “the people of this village can’t even be bothered to put energy into fleeing from you anymore, that’s how stale you’ve gotten.”

“Yeah, and you use the same robots all the time!” said Knuckles.

“Yeah, okay, so maybe I can’t churn out new super badniks at an insane rate, but I’ve got standards for my health! I’m not gonna crunch my schedule if you lot won’t even respect what I build!”

Sonic turned and stared at Tails for a moment, who took a bit to notice. “What?”

Sonic titled his head and raised an eyebrow.

“What??”

“Does Egghead actually have a better sense of self care than you these days?” said Sonic.

Tails folded his arms and looked away from Sonic. 

“If you all could be bothered to pay attention for more than a second!” shouted Dr. Eggman, “You might notice-”

The crash of a soda cup hitting the ground drew everyone’s attention to Sticks. She’d turned round and snarled as she tightly gripped the wrist of the Mantis Ninja, who appeared to have been attempting to tie a small wire to Sticks’ leg. 

“Well, colour me impressed,” said Dr. Eggman with a widening grin.

Sonic recognized the smile and immediately dashed toward Dr. Eggman. Then Eggman pressed a button, and something tightened on Sonic’s leg. He fell onto his face then saw that a thin wire tied to his leg led to a small round black badnik with the shape of a spider. Three more wires protruding from this badnik were tied to Tails, Amy, and Knuckles, who were all sent to the floor by the momentum of Sonic’s dash. 

“Ow FUCK!” shouted Tails.

“Tails what the F-! You can’t say that!” said Sonic.

“Actually,” said Knuckles as he pushed the dining table off of himself, “I’m with Tails, this fucking hurts.”

“I’ve had enough of Eggman’s shit today too,” said Amy.

“Goddammit, could you guys at least try to keep the Team PG?” said Sonic.

“It’s no use anyway,” Said Sticks, still grippin the Mantis, “It’s not like we’re getting fucking renewed anytime soon.”

“...What?” said the Mantis, with the second emotion to appear on their face being sheer bafflement. 

Sticks responded by punching the Mantis in the face. The force allowed them to pull out of her grasp and dart away, diving behind the counter to the despair of the service worker there. Still Sticks gave chase, throwing her boomerang. 

The Mantis responded with a flying kunai that struck Sticks’ boomerang and changed its trajectory. Truly Ninja’s are as dangerous as Sticks worried, as she found it hard to follow the boomerangs flight path. She only saw it just before it was about to strike her in the face.

Then a second kunai hit the boomerang, deflecting it away from Sticks. Everyone looked over to see a floating hand. Actually, it was attached to a  well blended figure, whose colours changed from that of the background to purple. 

“Chaotix agency, Espio,” said Espio the Chameleon.

“Oh he’s good,” said Amy, “how much money did Vector want?”

“Not too much,” said Sonic as he stood up and struggled against the wires of the spider badnik, “they said if we were actually dealing with another Ninja we’d get a discount.”

“That… doesn’t make sense,” said Tails.

“The honor of testing my skills against another trained in these arts,” said Espio as he stepped closer to the Mantis, “is worth a quarter of my boss’ revenue.”

The Mantis nodded, “so be it.”

“What is even happening anymore?” said Dr. Eggman, “this was supposed to be when you all cower at the genius of my Tripping-bot in conjunction with my competent hiring judgment!”

“Well Egghead, you’re not the only one who gets the ‘spies and assassins’ catalog,” said Sonic.

“That’s it,” said Sticks, “two Ninja’s is too much for me to worry about! I’ve got something more important to be doing!”

Sticks the Badger proceeded to leave… without her friends even. Sonic and the others exchanged a glance and shrug. 

“Alright, no more delaying! Ninja, attack!” shouted Dr. Eggman.

“Go get em Espio!” said Sonic.

The two Ninja’s locked eyes, raised their kunai, and charged at each other. Just before an intense clash of blades, both Espio and the Mantis dodged toward different directions, hiding behind different tables. 

Meanwhile Knuckles managed to get a footing against tension of the wire from the Spider Badnik. Seeing this, Dr. Eggman attacked team Sonic with the base missiles and laser on his eggmobile. 

Two epic battles played out over the next few minutes. One where Team Sonic steadily overcame the problem of being tied together. At Amy’s suggestion, Knuckles took the lead of which direction they would all move, and even threw the other within range of Eggman. Via taunting Tails tricked eggman into blasting the cord tying him to the others, and started flying interference. 

Eventually Tails lured Dr. Eggman close enough to the ground for Sonic, Amy, and Knuckles to time a jump together and all land on Dr Eggman's vehicle. Just in time too, as he had finally grabbed ahold of Tails and was about to throw hands. From there all four of the team beat up Dr. Eggman and his eggmobile until he finally admitted defeat, which took an impressive amount of blows to make him do. 

All the while the two Ninja’s engaged in the most intense battle of their lives up till now. The Mantis used their flight advantage to duck behind elevated positions and look for Espio. However Espio knew this and compensated with his camouflage and speed. From the perspective of everyone else and each other however, they both remained completely out of sight. Some customers even started returning to the meh burger, unaware of the intense battle going on between tables and booths.

“...Are either of them still here?” asked Amy.

“ I literally can’t tell,” said Sonic.

“Well one of those ninja knives just appeared in my shoe, and I’m sure it wasn’t there before,” said Knuckles.

“They must be so fast!” said Tails.

“And sneaky,” said Sonic.

…

“This is so boring,” said Sonic as he sat down in a chair.

“Yep,”

“I’m afraid so,”

“Maybe I could build a Ninja tracker?” said Tails. 

“If this fight takes that long, I think we’re better off-” Sonic leaned back in his chair as he talked, and to everyone's surprise tripped the Mantis Ninja who stumbled out into the open.

The Mantis immediately opened their wings to take flight, but were stopped as Espio charge out of nowhere horn first into their torso. The two Ninjas tumbled to the ground with the sounds of struggle. Once everyone managed to realize what was happening Espio had his kunai at the Mantis’ neck.

“Damn,” said the Mantis.

“Yep,” said Espio.

The two stood up and dusted themselves off. Espio quickly went to retrieve his scattered ninja weapons while the Mantis adjusted their scarf. 

“Apologies Doctorate Eggman,” said the Mantis, “I was bested in the duel. Here is an adjusted invoice. Call my number if you have questions.”

“Right…” said Dr. Eggman.

Sonic and the others went over to Espio to congratulate him. Though the chameleon kept a stoic pose, Amy at least could tell he seemed to appreciate the praise.

“For the discount,” said Epsio and he pulled a pocket register out and started typing into it, “please write down all the thoughts you had about my performance for my boss to see.”

“Yeah I’ll tell vector you did a good job,” said Sonic.

“How will you be paying?”

“I have a card,” said Amy.

“But it’s your birthday!” said Knuckles.

“Yeah, we can cover it, right Sonic?” said Tails.

“Uh… yeah, I’ll just… hafta to buy a smaller gift for Amy,” said Sonic.

“D’aw,” Amy smiled warmly at Sonic, that comment fully recovered her mood from earlier, despite the battle damage to her dress and quills. “Don’t worry Sonic, having more money for later is a perfect birthday gift.”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing Ames,” said Sonic.

______________

While his mood was a bit soured, Dr Eggman took some pleasure in knowing he at least inconvenienced Sonic and his friends today. That was worth something. Now he just needed to figure out how best to word that to Orbot and Cubot as to make it sound like he didn’t lose. 

That train of thought was halted when Dr. Eggman got within view of his lair. Smoke poured out of several portions of the structures, and loose wires threw sparks all over the place. Several of his defensive badniks were flying and walking circles around the base in full alert, but it was clear they had no idea where the culprit of this mess was. Dr. Eggman grumbled and flew in closer to evaluate the damage.

“No who had time to do this?!” Eggman said to the badniks. 

From behind a rock, Orbot and Cubot peeked out and pointed to the top of the base, Orbot saying “she did…”

“Wha-” Dr. Eggman was cut off by Sticks the Badger landing on his Eggmobile and driving an obsidian shortsword into its control panel. He screamed in genuine terror as they crashed to the ground.

Dr. Eggman felt himself tumbling until he lay flat on his back, then Stick jumped onto his chest and bared her teeth, putting a hand on his collar. 

“I have WAY too much to worry about, without dealing with this damned ‘Fools Holiday!’”

“Wait, I-” muttered Dr. Eggman.

“Shut up!”

Dr. Eggman shut up.

“When I hafta to worry just that much more, it actually hurts! And I’m not willing to spare you that pain!” Sticks took a few heavy breaths and made sure Eggman was looking her in the eyes. “Now, are you EVER, going to make me hafta to worry about an ‘April Fools’ again?!”

“Well… when you ask so nicely…”

Stick growled like a wild badger.

“No no of course not! Jeez! I’ll leave you alone if you leave me alone!” said Dr. Eggman. 

Sticks’ posture immediately softened and she released Dr. Eggman's collar. She let out a sigh and said “thanks,” before stepping off of Eggman’s chest and lying on the ground.

“Uh… don't mention it,” said Dr. Eggman.

“Yeah, of course… Sorry I hafta be so mean…” 

“I'm going… to go inside, and hide.”

Sticks gave him a thumbs up and continued to just lie on the ground in front of his base's door.

[glittervame]

"I've got some skills other than Quidditch"

Fred Weasley x Y/n

Warning: Smut +18 MDI, Wrap it before you tap it, idk it's just smut. happy birthday Fred

He didn't even mean to drink it, the aphrodisiac; the drinks got messed up during one of his and George's pranks on a group of Hufflepuffs. But here he was, Fred Weasley, Gryffindor Quidditch player and all-around joker, with a raging boner and a mouthwatering desire he couldn't control.

The hoodie was the only thing he could grab before he bolted out of the Three Broomsticks, his face hot and his heart racing. The streets of Hogsmeade were crowded with students from all houses, the cobblestones slipping under his shaking legs. He had to find someplace to hide, to let the potion do its thing before someone recognized him.

He'd managed to sneak away from the rest of the Gryffindor students and had hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, hoping to find some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos. But fate had other plans.

Y/n stumbled into the alley, her eyes wide with surprise when she saw him, her Slytherin robes fluttering in the cold breeze. The rivalry between their houses was palpable, but the potion was stronger, and Fred's eyes wandered down her body with a hunger that had nothing to do with the Snitch.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, her voice filled with accusation. But then she took a step closer, and he saw the curiosity in her gaze, the way her pupils dilated. "What's wrong with you?"

Fred could feel the potion thickening his voice as he mumbled, "I need… I need some…help."

Y/n's eyes widened even more, and she took another step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What kind of help?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached out and pulled her into the alley with him, his hands fumbling at the fastenings of his trousers. He was so embarrassed he could die, but the potion didn't care about his dignity.

"You're not… you're not going to tell anyone, right?" he stuttered, his mind racing with the embarrassment of his current predicament.

Y/n chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Your secret's safe with me," she murmured, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

Y/n's hand closed around him, and the world tilted on its axis. She was warm and soft, and Fred couldn't believe he was standing in a Hogsmeade alley with a Slytherin girl about to do something that would make his mother faint if she ever found out. But he couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the potion, couldn't stop himself from groaning her name.

The hoodie was all he had to hide his identity, and he used it well, pulling it down to cover his face as she dropped to her knees. The fabric was rough against his skin, but it was also a comforting barrier, allowing him to forget who he was, who she was, and just focus on the sensations.

He could feel his resolve slipping as the potion's effects took hold, turning their rivalry into something… more. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and all he could focus on was the feeling of her mouth on him, the way her eyes looked up at him with a mix of challenge and hunger.

"You… you're so…" he gasped, unable to form coherent words.

Her mouth was hot and wet, and she took him in like she'd been waiting for this moment all her life. He felt the magic of the potion swirl around them, mixing with the desire that had been building between them all year. They had been eyeing each other across the Quidditch pitch, sniping and teasing, but now, it was all heat and need.

Fred leaned against the wall, his hands in her hair, guiding her as she took him deeper, her eyes looking up at him through the gap in the hoodie.

Y/n smirked around his length, her eyes never leaving his. She enjoyed the power she had over him, the way he trembled at her touch. She knew he'd never admit it, but she could tell he enjoyed it too.

The alleyway was cold, but Fred's body was on fire. He was lost in the sensations, his hips moving involuntarily as she took him deeper. The sound of her mouth and the occasional gasp from his own was the only noise in the otherwise quiet street.

The tension in his body built until it was unbearable, and he had to hold onto the wall to keep from falling apart.

And then it was over, and he was panting and trembling, and she was standing up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, looking at him with a smug satisfaction that was all too Slytherin.

"Feel better?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

"You know, Fred," Y/n began, a smug smile playing on her lips as she straddled him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I've always wondered what you'd look like when you're not throwing pranks or causing trouble for everyone." Her fingers curled around his length, stroking him in a way that made his eyes roll back into his head and his body arch off the bed.

Fred's hands roamed her body, tracing the lines of her waist and hips before settling on her breasts. He felt her nipples pebble under his touch, the sensitive skin reacting to the light caress. His own arousal was evident, his erection pressing against her inner thigh as she leaned forward, her breath hot against his neck.

"Cute, am I?" he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice. "You're the one who's begging for more, Sweetheart."

Y/n smirked, leaning back to give him a better view of herself. She reached down and took his length in her hand, stroking it gently before guiding it to her entrance. "Is that so?" she whispered, sinking down onto him in one smooth motion.

The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of heat and pressure that had Fred arching his back and biting his lower lip. He could feel her wetness coating him, her inner walls tightening around him as she began to move. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if she wanted to savor every second of their contact.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his hands gripping the bedcovers. "You're so…so…"

"Good?" she supplied, a wicked glint in her eye. "I know."

Fred's eyes rolled back in his head as she picked up the pace, her breasts bouncing with the motion. She leaned back, giving him a view that was nothing short of mesmerizing. The sweat glistened on her skin, and the look of concentration on her face was almost as arousing as the sensations she was creating within him.

"Look at me, Fred," she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "Look at how much you want this."

He did as she asked, meeting her gaze. It was like staring into a pool of molten chocolate, and he was drowning in it. His eyes glazed over as she picked up the pace, her hips moving faster, grinding down on him with each thrust.

"Look at how far you get," She mumbles, tracing the stomach bulge. "All the way riiiiight here." She squeezes around him as she taps the highest point.

Her words were a balm to his bruised ego from the Quidditch match. He had never felt more desired or more alive than he did at that moment. He watched as she leaned back, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. The moonlight caught the beads of sweat on her skin, making her glow.

Loosing was not an option for him, whether it came to Quidditch or to making products for his business with his brother, but as he lays there with Y/n on top of him, he can't help but feel a mix of pleasure and surprise. Her eyes gleam with a sly satisfaction as she leans down, whispering those words into his ear. He's panting, his heart racing from the exhilaration of the situation match, but now it's racing for an entirely different reason.

"Cum for me, Fred," she urged, her voice a sultry purr. "Let me see you fall apart."

With a guttural groan, Fred felt his body responding to Y/n's taunts, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he came, pleasure flooding through him. She sat atop him, her thighs tight around his waist, riding him through the last spasms of his orgasm.

Finally, she threw her head back and cried out, her body shuddering with the force of her own climax. The sound echoed through the room, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

"That," Fred managed to say, his voice hoarse, "was definitely worth losing a Quidditch match for."

Y/n chuckled, collapsing onto his chest. "Good to know I've got some skills other than Quidditch."

[xblackreader]

OMFGGYETGYD NO WAYYIF????!!!! 💓💞💖

[uhhlifeig]

Aparecium - April 1st - word count: 129 - @wolfstarmicrofic - Happy April Fools!!

Remus’s book lay forgotten as he inspected the blank sheet of parchment in his hands.

Sirius had just dropped it in his lap while walking by with no explanation nor context. 

What was he up to now? 

Remus flipped the parchment over, looking at it this way and that- until it clicked.

“Aparecium,” he muttered, watching as ink bloomed across the page.

Look in a mirror, the note read.

Remus sighed, going back to his book- until he noticed a strand of hair in front of his face. To his utter shock, it was Gryffindor red- surely it was Sirius’s doing.

Grumbling, Remus turned his hair back to its normal color, which released a mini shower of fireworks, spelling out April Fools, Moony! in shimmering gold.

April Fools, indeed.

[imreidswifey]

The Misdirected Love Letter

Aaron Hotchner x Reader April Fools fanfiction

summary: what was supposed to be a April fools prank ended up being an love confession outing for reader after the wrong recipient gets in the way of the prank!

a/n: my first Aaron Hotchner of many to come!! happy april fools 

w/c: 2k

It had started as a joke. A harmless, silly little prank to celebrate April Fools’ Day—nothing cruel, nothing that would truly embarrass him. Because, really, who would dare try to prank Aaron Hotchner?

That was part of the fun.

So, with a mischievous grin, you had penned the most over-the-top, dramatic love letter you could imagine. It was the kind of thing straight out of a Victorian novel, dripping with passion and devotion.

*“My dearest love,

Every day I spend in your presence is both a delight and a torment. A delight because I am blessed to bask in the radiance of your intellect, your strength, your unparalleled leadership… and a torment because I must restrain myself from throwing myself at your feet and declaring my undying affection.

Oh, Aaron, if only you knew the depths of my heart’s longing! The way my pulse quickens when you speak, the way my breath catches when your piercing eyes meet mine. I fear I can contain these emotions no longer. The time has come to confess what my soul has screamed for so long:

I love you. I love you with a fervor that defies reason, with a passion that could set the world ablaze. I yearn for nothing more than to stand by your side, to be the one you confide in, the one you reach for in the darkest of nights.

And if, perchance, you do not return my affections… know that I shall love you still, from afar, as the moon loves the sun.

Yours, now and always,

(Reader)”*

It was absolutely ridiculous. And yet, as you read it over, you had to admit—there was a sincerity beneath the dramatics. A small part of you wished you truly had the courage to tell Aaron Hotchner how you felt.

But today wasn’t about confessions. Today was about fun.

So, with a carefully calculated “accident,” you let the letter slip from your hands and onto the round table in the bullpen, right before you left for the break room.

And that was when the chaos began.

•

When you returned, the first thing you noticed was the stunned expression on Spencer Reid’s face. He was holding your letter, his eyes scanning the words so fast they might catch fire.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

Spencer’s mouth opened and closed, clearly torn between intellectual curiosity and absolute mortification. “Um—uh—d-did you mean to leave this here?” he stammered, eyes darting from the page to your face.

You swallowed a laugh. “What letter?”

“This one,” Spencer said, holding it up like evidence in a court trial. “It’s—it’s addressed to Hotch.”

Jennifer Jareau, who had just entered the bullpen, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what’s addressed to Hotch?”

Your stomach flipped. JJ was exactly the kind of person to spread this like wildfire.

Before you could stop him, Spencer cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

“Oh, Aaron, if only you knew the depths of my heart’s longing—”

“NOPE! No, no, nope!” You lunged for the letter, but Spencer, despite his lack of athleticism, had the reflexes of a caffeine-fueled gazelle. He leaped backward, holding the letter high above his head.

JJ’s eyes widened. “Wait… wait.” She glanced between you and Spencer. “Is that a love letter? To Hotch?”

A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Spence, I will literally pay you to give that back.”

“I—I don’t even know how to process this,” Spencer admitted, shaking his head. “I mean, statistically, workplace romances aren’t uncommon, but given Hotch’s personality and professional demeanor, I would have assumed—”

JJ snatched the letter from Spencer’s hand. “Oh, this is good.”

You groaned.

Emily Prentiss, drawn by the commotion, strolled in. “What’s going on?”

JJ held up the letter. “Y/N wrote Hotch the most dramatic love confession I’ve ever read in my life.”

Emily’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

You huffed. “It’s—it’s an April Fools’ prank.”

Spencer frowned. “So you don’t love Hotch with a fervor that could set the world ablaze?”

Your cheeks burned. “That’s not the point!”

But before you could grab the letter back, a deep, familiar voice cut through the chaos.

“What’s going on?”

The bullpen fell dead silent.

You turned slowly, feeling your soul leave your body.

Aaron Hotchner stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp with suspicion.

JJ grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, nothing, just… this.”

And then she handed him the letter.

•

You were going to die.

Aaron took the letter with his usual unreadable expression, scanning the words carefully.

Seconds stretched into eternities.

Emily covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Spencer looked deeply uncomfortable. Derek Morgan, who had apparently arrived just in time for the show, whispered, “Damn.”

You? You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Aaron’s face remained neutral… but the tips of his ears turned very red.

When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable. “This is quite the confession.”

The entire team was watching like it was the most gripping drama they’d ever seen.

You forced yourself to play it cool. “Happy April Fools’ Day, Hotch.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, something incredible happened.

Aaron Hotchner—stoic, serious, impossible-to-fluster Aaron Hotchner—smirked.

Your heart stopped.

“So,” he said, folding the letter neatly. “You don’t actually intend to throw yourself at my feet and declare your undying affection?”

Emily snorted.

Your mouth was so dry. “Uh. I mean. Not literally.”

He took a slow step forward. “And the part about your pulse quickening when I speak?”

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “This backfired.”

Aaron hummed, amused. “I see.”

JJ was biting her knuckle to keep from screaming.

The smirk softened into something… dangerous. Something real.

“In that case,” Aaron said, voice lower now, “I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that I rather enjoyed the letter.”

Your brain short-circuited.

He handed it back, his fingers brushing yours for a split second.

You stared at him, utterly wrecked.

Then, with a final glance around the bullpen, he walked away—calm, collected, and completely in control.

JJ exploded into laughter.

Emily grabbed your arm. “What—what was that?”

Spencer, still stunned, murmured, “I think we just witnessed history.”

Morgan clapped you on the back. “Damn, Y/N. You might wanna send another letter. For real this time.”

Your heart was still racing.

Because, deep down… you kind of wanted to.

And maybe, just maybe…

Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t mind.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Cryptid RO when?

Ravi doesnt count- /j

Okay Nonnie but only because you asked nicely ;))))

//jk april fools ravi's the only cryptid around here (not true) (but the only one you can kiss))

[ibrithir-was-here]

The Absolutely Positively True Real Actual End to “Blood of My Blood”

(Wait I got the bats name wrong it’s fixed now 😅)

[koi-karpfen]

What happens when you and your prank-loving brother spend the first of April together again after more than forty years? Right, you get the full package of April Fool's jokes from your brother to make up for those four decades' worth of missed opportunities.

Ford has a long and hard day ahead of him...

I made this art for the first chapter of my fanfiction "April Falls!". If you're curious, you can check it out here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64333978/chapters/165148915

[perksofbeingpoet]

there's this spot in the cave - right at the back, where humidity and moss linger, where your boots dip softly into well-watered soil - that has an echo so loud and clear that you only have to close your eyes to imagine there's a person hiding somewhere in the dark stone.

after it happens, they cram into that last corner for their meetings - it's a tight fit even with three people missing, pitts basically has to fold in half and they're all nearly sitting on each other's laps, but-

but when they talk, when they raise their voices and let them chase each other through the cave like dogs running across a lawn, there seem to be more people there, more voices than throats to spring from.

and they share smiles, gleaming eyes, and scoot closer together to drift to the cave walls even more, until the echo seems to come before they've spoken, until they can lose themselves in the illusion of not being alone.

what fools.

[delicateperspective]

harry wakes up alone.

which is normal, kind of — louis had mumbled something about going to tesco for milk and croissants before rolling out of bed in a hoodie and joggers and disappearing into the cold morning.

normal. fine.

except then, harry’s phone rings.

a number he doesn’t know.

“hello?”

“is this mr. styles?” says a very serious voice. northern. official. slightly muffled.

harry sits up. “...yes?”

“we’ve got louis tomlinson in custody. public indecency. urinated on church property.”

harry blinks. “what?”

“we’ll be holding him overnight. just thought you should know.”

harry’s heart drops. his soul leaves his body. he forgets how to breathe, let alone think critically.

“he—he peed on a what?”

“a church. very disrespectful.”

“he’s not even religious!”

“still illegal.”

“but he—he just went to tesco!”

“well. not anymore.”

click.

harry stares at the wall for a full ten seconds, then bursts into motion. he’s crying into the banana he grabbed for breakfast by minute three. he tries to call louis seven times. he googles “how to bail your boyfriend out of prison” and “can you get kicked out of uni for dating a criminal.” he starts packing a bag with snacks and a clean hoodie, just in case louis has to go to court in the morning.

the front door opens with a jangle.

harry’s standing in the middle of the living room, one boot half on, banana in one hand, phone in the other. his face is pale, eyes rimmed red. he's got louis’s spare hoodie clutched under his arm like it might save him.

and then louis walks in, holding a bag of croissants and a bottle of oat milk, looking annoyingly alive and unincarcerated.

“morning!” louis grins, kicking the door shut behind him. “did you miss me—?”

“LOUIS!” harry screams.

louis jumps so hard he nearly launches the croissants across the room. “jesus! what’s your problem—”

“you said you were going to tesco!”

“i did!”

harry throws a shoe at him. it bounces off louis’s thigh with a satisfying thwop.

“what the hell was that for?!”

“a policeman called me!” harry shouts. “he said you got arrested! for—for peeing on a church!”

louis wheezes. absolutely howls. nearly drops the oat milk. “oh my god. oh my god. it worked? i used the payphone outside the corner shop and everything!”

“you used a payphone? who are you? a 90s drug dealer?!”

“no,” louis cackles, “i’m a comedy genius.”

except—harry’s not laughing.

louis’s grin falters.

harry’s still just standing there, breathing hard, knuckles white around the banana, face pinched and pink. “i thought you’d been arrested, louis. i thought you pissed on a sacred building and got taken away in a police car. i was about to skip my lecture and go bail you out with forty-seven quid and a Tesco Clubcard.”

“babe—”

“i packed you a snack bag.” harry’s voice cracks. “i put in grapes. and a sudoku book. and the hoodie you like that smells like me.”

louis’s stomach drops.

“i—I didn’t think you’d fall for it,” he says, voice going quiet. “i thought you’d laugh. hang up. text me something snarky.”

“i sobbed into a banana.”

louis’s face crumples. “oh, Harry.”

“in the kitchen. like a Victorian widow. over a banana.”

“i’m the worst boyfriend in the history of time.”

“yes.”

“like, truly. i should be exiled.”

“maybe just banned from april fools.”

“reasonable.”

there’s a pause.

louis gently sets the croissants down on the coffee table. “look, i brought you almond. your favourite.”

harry eyes them. “...you don’t deserve almond.”

“i know.” louis drops to his knees. “but i am prepared to beg.”

“you should.”

“and grovel.”

“correct.”

“and,” louis adds, “i will now perform a spoken-word apology and clean the entire flat in nothing but your ‘i heart taylor swift’ boxer shorts.”

harry crosses his arms. “you’re trying to distract me with thighs and feminism.”

“is it working?”

“...maybe.”

louis smiles, cautious. “can i hug you?”

harry hesitates — then sighs, steps forward and buries his face in louis’s neck. “you owe me a hundred almond croissants and emotional stability.”

“i’ll give you two croissants right now and try my best.”

“deal.”

[vixstarria]

'Erotic misadventures'

Hello, I wrote this for an April Fools challenge, and now it is your problem.

Challenge terms: The challenge is simple - write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts, and so on!

AO3 link

So I've always had this headcanon that Tav and Astarion perform readings of really bad erotica for the group at camp. This is a depiction of one such evening.

All origin characters.

18+, humor, banter. Is this actually smut? I don't know. I hope not.

Content warnings: ...Yes.

Approx. 1,800 words

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best piece of fiction they’d ever come across.

Meticulously handwritten in a tidy script, the text filled a sizeable journal. “Her Highness’s Erotic Misadventures” read the title. “Thank you for beta reading, Harpy Quinn”, it said at the bottom of the title page, whatever that meant. 

Despite both of them having a professional interest in lewd literature, neither Astarion nor Tav had ever come across this piece before - they doubted it had ever been published. They doubted it could ever be published, for that matter. However, it must have gone through many hands privately - on flipping through the journal it was discovered that the end contained a multitude of little gushing reviews in other people’s writing.

The author must have been one strange individual, with even weirder friends. How embarrassing.

The gang had called it a day and were gathered around the campfire. Astarion and Tav had been taking turns reading from the manuscript, to their companions’ amusement (and, in Gale’s case, vexation).

Despite being seasoned experts in the genre, Wyll and Shadowheart were visibly perturbed (albeit also intrigued) by the piece. Karlach hung on to every word, and even Lae’zel had stopped tending to her weapons to listen to the strange tale spun by the anonymous author. Volo, whose unwarranted presence continued to be tolerated, although no one could quite pinpoint why, was silent, furiously scribbling notes in his own journal. And as for Gale, well…

“This is deplorable,” said Gale, weary disappointment and disdain in his voice. “The only reason I am still here is because none of you can be trusted with the pot.”

 Astarion ignored him and continued to pace around the fire, reading aloud from the journal.

As the title suggested, the story depicted a series of obscene misfortunes which had befallen a hapless princess and her loyal knight. After several chapters of delving into the princess’s tragic and salacious backstory in (frankly bewildering) detail, the narrative had at last moved forward to a scene in which the princess’s knight came to her rescue after she had been kidnapped and taken away to a cave by a dragon. The knight faced the said dragon (who had then taken a dragonborn form for some reason) and its two harpy henchwomen.

“‘Its weak spot is its bussy’, the princess cried out from the cave,” read Astarion. “What in the hells is a ‘bussy’..?” he asked, lifting his head to seek counsel from his companions. 

Everyone around the fire just shook their heads, equally perplexed. 

“Hmm… Well, it seems our hero doesn’t know that word either...” Astarion continued reading.

“‘Puzzled, the paladin took a shot in the dark, cramming her manhood-’ Wait, what? I could have sworn...” Astarion shuffled through the pages. “…Oh she’s got both sets. How convenient… Anyway. …‘Cramming her manhood into the dragonborn’s meatgrinder’.” Astarion frowned again, sitting down next to Karlach.  

“Is the ‘meatgrinder’ the dragonborn’s mouth, or..?” asked Shadowheart.  

“I… think so? There’s not many contextual clues here, it just says that the ‘meatgrinder swirled around her pork sword, stunning her and nearly making her forsake her oath of propriety’.” 

“Well keep going, we’ll figure it out,” Karlach said, impatiently.

“The two harpies swarmed the stunned paladin. A hand deftly shed the paladin’s breastplate, exposing her pearls, whilst another grabbed her by the neck, clawed fingers shredding the remnants of her clothing, as two hands groped and teased her milkbags. She felt a hand creep up the back of her thigh while another hand pulled on her hair, as another crept to her moistening oyster-” Astarion stopped, with an exasperated sigh. “How many hands do these bloody things have?! I’m losing focus.” 

“And the mention of pearls…” Wyll said, thoughtfully. “It’s peculiar, you would think a pearl would be inside the… never mind”.  

 “Shadowheart, could you and Tav assist us with a visual, perchance,” asked Astarion. “I can’t be the only one who can’t keep track.”

“Perhaps I could also be of assis-” started Wyll.  

“Perhaps you could sit right back down,” Astarion warned with a glower. “I'll step in if needed. Where was I..? Ah yes, the err… the milkbags. So there’s definitely two hands there.”  

Both Tav and Shadowheart giggled as Shadowheart stood to join Tav by the fire and reached around Tav to lightly place her hands over the other woman’s breasts.

“Nice,” said Karlach. 

“The harpy pinched her pearls, and pulled her into a deep, ravishing kiss,” Astarion read, looking up expectantly at Tav and Shadowheart.

“Uh… That is not in the book, soldier,” said Karlach, reading over Astarion’s shoulder.  

“Spoilsport,” muttered Astarion. “I was just trying to set the mood before moving forward - the author’s pace is almost too relentless even for me. But fine.” 

Astarion cleared his throat and continued. 

“Then one of the harpies used her hands to pry open the paladin’s clam.” He looked up again. “Well come on, Shadowheart, pry open Tav’s clam.” 

Shadowheart simply laughed and returned to her spot across the fire. 

“If you’re not sure how - we could show you later tonight, if you like,” Astarion called out after her. 

“I’m sure I could give you some pointers on dealing with clams, Astarion,” retorted Shadowheart. 

“Is that so..?” he purred. “Interesting… What about you, Karlach, are you adept with clams?” 

“You know I haven’t had any clams in a decade, fangs!” Karlach groaned. “But before that… They used to just fling themselves at me, already opened, yeah.” 

“Fascinating. Lae’zel?” 

“There are a number of women who have survived bedding me,” the githyanki responded, deadpan. 

“I am… in equal parts concerned and aroused at the thought,” Astarion mulled over her words. 

“I wish anyone could survive bedding me,” grumbled Karlach. 

“There there, darling…” Astarion reached out to carefully pat her on a horn. “Now we all know Gale doesn’t know the first thing about clams…” 

“I’ll have you know, in my ethereal relations with my goddess, our connection was so profound that not only have I experienced her ‘clam’, I have interconnected with it on such a sublime and intimate level, been woven so deeply into it to myself have become part of the clam.” 

Gale’s outburst failed to have the effect he had desired, as the group struggled to contain themselves, wheezing and huffing for air. 

“Thank you, Gale, I don’t believe I’ll be able to get that image out of my mind anytime soon,” Astarion continued, trying to maintain his composure. “Wyll..? How fare you with prying clams open?” 

“Well…” The warlock began, with a smile. “I find, that the best way to go about it is to allow the clam to open of its own accord, from heat. From it getting sufficiently… steamy, if I may. I would never simply invade one with my blade.” 

Astarion was about to say something but just chortled instead. 

“Wyll, you rapscallion, every time I think I have you figured out-” 

“What happens next with the harpies?” Came an impatient call from Lae’zel. 

“Yes, give me that, you’re taking too long,” said Tav, snatching the journal back from Astarion. She continued to pace around the fire as she recited: 

“The dragonborn stood before the browbeaten paladin, reveling in her anguish. Even had the harpies not had a firm grasp on the paladin and her unmentionables, she would not have known how to approach the dragonborn – the loathsome creature was covered in impenetrable scales. Its mouth sported rows upon rows of sharp teeth – the only reason it allowed the paladin’s mutton machete out unscathed must have been because it had worse yet torments in mind for it.

The creature turned its back on the paladin, to roar tauntingly at the princess somewhere in the cave. 

‘Behold, as I turn your valiant saviour into naught but a pathetic cumdumpster!’

As it turned its back, the paladin glimpsed a narrow, pink orifice beneath its tail.” 

Karlach and Wyll gasped in unison.  

“The bussy!” Lae’zel hissed in a hushed whisper. 

“The paladin drew on the last of her divine power to throw the harpies off, smiting them unconscious, and plunged her hand into the dragonborn’s puckered hole.” 

“I am going to be sick,” moaned Gale. 

“The dragonborn cackled and flexed their beef ring, tightening its grasp on the paladin’s hand. The paladin reeled in horror, as the dragonborn’s poop chute seemed to suck the paladin’s hand further in, like fleshy quicksand, whilst threatening to snap her wrist.”

A tear of anguish slid down Gale’s cheek.

“It cannot be! Was the bussy a trap?!” came an outcry from Lae’zel.

“No! It could not end this way. Her entire life and all her training had been preparing her for this,” Tav read. “What in the hells, really?” she muttered, before continuing. “In that moment, she knew that the only way out - was through. The paladin took a deep breath and PLUNGED her arm deeper into the dragonborn’s vile cavity,” Tav exclaimed, throwing her own fist in the the air, to the sound of Astarion’s uncontrollable giggling and everyone else’s gasps.

“The dragonborn yelped and tried to expel the paladin’s arm from their pulsating dirtbox, to no avail. The paladin was now elbow deep in the mud dungeon. The two continued to wrestle, the paladin’s arm pumping deeper and deeper into the dragonborn’s dank portal.”

“I fear I may need to tap out soon,” warned Wyll.

“Weakling!” Lae’zel and Shadowheart said in unison, before glaring at one another.

No one, including Karlach herself, could tell whether she was laughing or crying.

“At last, the dragonborn seemed to accept its fate, quivering and taking the paladin’s arm nearly shoulder-deep. The creature grunted and groaned, before stilling, only to unleash an earth-shaking roar, finally forcefully expunging the paladin’s arm in a spray of gooey, milky spunk, as it collapsed on the ground, convulsing, clearly too incapacitated to be of any further threat.”

“Supper is ready,” wept Gale. 

“Shall I take over while you eat?” Astarion asked, to Gale’s immediate renewed protestation.

“That’s alright, I think we should take some mercy on Gale and pause here for the day,” said Tav. “Although let me peek ahead, perhaps it’s tame enough.” She took the journal and flipped forward a few pages. “Oh my…” came a surprised murmur from Tav. “You’ll never guess what happens to the princess and her knight… This may be a problem if we want to continue to visualise this masterpiece properly.” 

“Oh? Dare I ask..?” Astarion was giddy with anticipation. 

“Well… There are now… Five… Six… No, seven! Seven dwarves, who have appeared in the cave.” 

“Goodness gracious,” lamented Astarion. “We will never keep track of all the body parts… Perhaps if Withers steps in to help..? Would you prefer to be the princess or the knight, darling? You can choose, I’ll take the other role.” 

“I am going to use that journal for kindling tomorrow,” said Gale. 

“NO!” came a collective shout from the rest of the group. 

~~~~~

Sorry about the psychic damage, come check out my other work if you dare.

~~~~~

Tagging the usual plus some people who I think might also be doing / were interested in this:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @pursuitseternal @comatosebunny09 @kittenintheden @bardic-inspo @tavyliasin

[pursuitseternal]

“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won’t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

[sijetaismoi]

[Fanfiction] We're not together

Summary:

And instead of trying to clear her mind in the steam, she finds herself thinking up a good reason—any valid excuse—to show up at his place out of the blue. or Missing scene between 7x11 and 7x12: what happened that made Lucy scheme her little April Fool's prank? How did they go from the scene in the shop, admitting they're not looking for a relationship with anyone else, to them hooking up on April 1st?

Notes: I'm really curious about 7x13 and what's happening there to explain 7x12. In the meantime, here's what I wish happened before April Fools.

We're not together

[holylustration]

April Fools Story Collection is Live!

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/beeftradervol1/profile

Come read the magnificent contributions of @redbatchedcumbermayned ; @pycnolite; @theevilscribbler; Hackinslash, and me on this day, the finest of April Fools.

And in case you were wondering, here are the winners of the Prestigious Dopamine Week Live Reading Awards:

The D.H. Lawrence Dicktionary Award: @redbatchedcumbermayned, Hackinslash For most unique use of vocabulary

The Heinrich von Kleist Length Award: @pycnolite For longest sentences in a smut fic

The Frank Herbert Creativity Award: @redbatchedcumbermayned For most original euphemism of a sex organ

The Chuck Tingle Award: Hackinslash, @theevilscribbler, Me For the piece that brought us the most joy

The Giles Coren Stoic Award: Me For the reading with the most gravitas

[darsynia]

Crew Resource Management | Lloyd/f!reader

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS! This is not okay. At all. Though it's me so that's probably hilariously naive of me to say.

Summary: Lloyd pulls a practically unforgivable April Fool's prank WC/Warnings: 2,400 | Explicit sex, the mustache gets WORSE

Excerpt:

Lloyd’s leaning up against the wall reading a Russian newspaper when you bring the completed folder over. You can tell by the way his hands tighten on the newsprint that he heard your high heels clicking on the marble floor, but you’re wholly unprepared for what you see when he lowers the pages.

“Holy shit, is that a, a Chaplin mustache?” one of the armorers stutters, almost dropping the gun he’s cleaning.

“Not at all,” Lloyd says warmly--but now that you can see his face, there it is, clear as day. You can even see a little hint of stubble on either side of the damned thing.

The entire office falls silent.

CREW RESOURCE MANAGEMENT

“Wait, you’re dating that guy?”

“Dating? No. I’m not crazy.” You make a note to buy a pack of thumbtacks to jam into Raoul Belloq’s leather seats the next time you cross paths. “You should know your boss only told you my boss and I are involved to fuck up your dynamic on this op. Do better.”

“Rich to hear that phrase from a woman with so little self respect,” the woman says, but there’s an uneasy edge to her melodic French accent that tells you she doesn’t know about the Hansen-Belloq rivalry. Amateur.

“There’s self respect, and then there’s knowing what it’s like to be railed by that big meaty dick.” Your eyebrows lift skyward, and as you speak you can feel your neck doing that sassy thing Lloyd does when he’s being a douche. Ugh. Fucking is one thing, but mannerisms? 

Belloq’s loaner (Isabeau? Isolde? Whatever) is staring now, but Hinata just calls out from behind two monitors; “Oh, does he have a big penis too?” 

You snicker a little louder than you otherwise would have, just to ruffle ‘Isabette’s’ feathers. Before you can retort, a voice booms from the open doorway.

“You’ll never find out, Hin. You’re too ugly for a pity fuck.” Lloyd Hansen strides in, a rumpled folder in one hand. He holds it up in front of his face. “Someone pull out and redo the pages that have blood on them. I need these font-matched and printed in 30 minutes.” You hold out your hand, but he stops a foot away from the newcomer, waving his hand near his nose with his free hand. “Someone smells French.”

“Raoul told me you’d be rude,” the woman snaps.

“He told me you’d be mostly useless. Disprove the ‘mostly’ part.” Lloyd thrusts the folder right into her chest, spins on his heel, and stalks off to the coffee station.

“Free computer right here,” you offer.

‘Isadora’ rushes over, which is something, you suppose. She starts sorting the loose pages and mutters, “How can anyone work well together like this?”

“Closed ecosystem. Believe it or not, that ‘ugly’ line was a compliment.” Hinata grins. “He has terrible taste in women.”

“And that was an insult. A pretty lazy one, too,” you chime in, tuning your voice to a lower register to add, “Maybe it’s deserved; I have even worse taste in men.” From across the room, you see Lloyd tense up for a few seconds. He loves when you use that voice on him, but you’ve never done it at work before. Then again, your track record for reading him is abysmal, even weeks into… whatever the fuck the two of you are doing.

You focus on the task at hand, glad to see that Belloq isn’t as shitty at picking operatives as he is at inter-organizational ‘warfare.’

It’s just about 28 minutes later when you and ‘Isabert’ finish the job. You’d decided to print out everything and post-stress the paper so it doesn’t feel so ‘fresh,’ in case there’s a non-zero chance of matching printer quirks. 

Lloyd’s leaning up against the wall reading a Russian newspaper when you bring it over. You can tell by the way his hands tighten on the newsprint that he heard your high heels clicking on the marble floor, but you’re wholly unprepared for what you see when he lowers the pages.

“Holy shit, is that a, a Chaplin mustache?” one of the armorers stutters, almost dropping the gun he’s cleaning.

“Not at all,” Lloyd says warmly--but now that you can see his face, there it is, clear as day. You can even see a little hint of stubble on either side of the damned thing.

The entire office falls silent. 

“I give up. This is no fit place to work!” Belloq’s tech declares, clutching her things in front of her like a shield.

Lloyd smirks. “I knew you’d surrender.”

The rest of the day is taken up by work. Lloyd heads off to meet with an informant, leaving his phone behind as requested. Every so often it buzzes with messages and the screen wakes up, showing off that he’d changed the image to a movie poster for The Great Dictator. It’s almost the end of the day when you pass by the phone again, right as it buzzes with a rejected call.

The name listed is one you recognize. It’s a woman your team uses for disguises, including prosthetics and wigs. The message says, ‘Let me know how long it lasts. You know, for science.’ 

You’re almost disappointed--but just then, a string of profanity sounds out from behind one of the tech analyst’s computers.

“Share with the group?” you ask, instantly recognizing Lloyd’s influence in your vitriolic tone. Goddamnit.

“It’s April Fool’s today. I can’t believe I got excited about a DC/Marvel crossover film! Fucking Disney!”

Everyone left in the room starts talking at once, most of them saying they’d held back pointing out the ‘holiday’ to keep from ruining the ruse for anyone who didn’t realize. Soon enough they all trickle out, and you’re the only one left. 

It’s the day you and Lloyd usually have your Toxic Coworkers With Benefits time, but you pack up anyway. Far be it from you to meddle with science! He almost certainly didn’t get enough attention for his stunt, and you’d love to see him try to sleep without fucking the thing up--or will he show up with it looking ratty tomorrow and wait for someone to comment?

You go to lock up the main room, but the key doesn’t want to go in. You struggle with it for a second before you’re suddenly pulled back into a solid, familiar body. Lloyd’s hand slides around the waistband of your suit skirt, seeking the clasp. You stay silent and enjoy the adrenaline rush as he finds it, sliding all four fingers past it and abruptly turning them sideways.

He swears under his breath and pulls his hand back, growling in your ear and nipping at your shoulder through your jacket and blouse. 

“Oh no, did the metal clasp give you a boo-boo?” you croon. “I had to start buying the expensive ones because you popped the buttons off like four different ones, asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the evidence of his interest through both sets of clothes. You arch your back for the friction, held close by his other hand heavy against your stomach. Lloyd chuckles and brings his injured hand up against your lips.

“Suck.”

You flick your tongue out to push against the boundaries of both his injury and his patience. Both are puny. You’re almost knocked off your feet by the suddenness of his movements, spinning you around and yanking the hem of your pencil skirt up to your waist. You catch a glimpse of his unzipped cream-colored trousers straining around the bulge of his dick, held up only by his still-cinched belt. He’s wearing dark crimson boxers, and it’s so fastidiously hot, you can’t resist pressing up against him, grabbing two handfuls of his preppy-ass shirt to pull his head down to kis--

You shove him away.

“Take it off.”

“Which part, honeymuffin?”

“The rat-tail under your nose.”

Lloyd strokes a languid hand along the thick line of his cock jutting through his gaping zipper and tuts. “You called this meaty earlier.”

You’re horny and pissed off, and absolutely not. In seconds, you’ve got your fingers digging at the edge of his outrageous lip prosthetic, ripping it off. Lloyd doubles over, one hand at his face and the other at his crotch, and all you can think is that he deserves it. Which is probably the most Lloyd-like thought you’ve ever had, Jesus fucking Christ, the things this man does to you.

You’re still standing there like a vengeful spurned lover (which you are. No way did he think you’d fuck him wearing that), the thrice-damned fake mustache prosthetic dangling from your hand when he stands up. He’s undone his belt buckle, so his pants drop to pool around his shoes, which is somehow hot. It’s unfair.

“I should have expected that,” Lloyd says, but he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds like he’s barely holding in the kind of glee that only comes out when he’s sniped Belloq’s target out from under him for free. 

Then his hand drops.

The Hitler mustache is still there.

“Somehow you’re more quiet now than when you’re choking on my cock,” Lloyd observes, obviously amused. “As usual, you didn’t see this coming.”

You shiver just thinking about it. He’s really good at getting you to orgasm unexpectedly. It’s his full lips and those clever, thick fingers, even more so his chaotic, corrosive personality.

“I can’t believe you made it worse!” you groan, unable to maintain your fury with the heat of arousal burning you up. Damn him.

He kicks sharply, pulling free of his puddled pants while somehow still looking darkly menacing as he advances on you, lips curving into a smile underneath that damned mustache.

You lift your chin. “I’m not fucking you with that thing on your face. No one is. No one hates themselves that much.”

“You do.” He’s approaching with stupidly sexy menace. “But you’re no desperate, obedient bitch. You’re a thoroughbred. You need to be broken.”

He stops two feet away and pulls off his polo in a single, fluid movement, reaching for his undershirt next. The two of you are standing in the foyer of your office space, and he’s stripping you emotionally bare even as he takes every scrap of his own clothing off. 

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, I will. Inside you.”

You are so screwed, because this is maybe everything you ever wanted. 

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you fix your eyes on his ridiculously offensive mustache and ignore the rest of his spectacular physique as best you can. He’s moving toward you, stalking you like prey, and you’re so wet he’s going to mock you for it.

“We’re both punishing ourselves here,” Lloyd says conversationally as he hooks the index finger from each hand into the thin lace of your panties, pulling them away from your hips as if testing the elastic. You tense up, ready for him to turn feral, ripping and taking and wrecking--but his expression turns as tender as you’ve ever seen it. He inclines his head, but you know him. His kisses are dominant, careless, pleasure-seeking on his behalf only.

You turn your head away, gritting your teeth, and that’s when Lloyd drags that motherfucking mustache from your chin across your cheek, ending with his soft lips whispering in your ear.

“Beg me.”

You’re corralled with so much tension on your underwear, his naked, muscular body looming over your mostly-clothed one, and one word keeps echoing in your head, his favorite rebuke, the one he’s somehow never wielded during your reckless intimacy. 

“Boring,” you spit. “Predictable.”

As you knew he would, Lloyd rips his hands away from your hips, tearing the delicate lace to shreds. With your head held high you yank your skirt back down, turn away from him, and head for the door, the sharp retorts of your high heels echoing off of the high ceiling.

You expect to be grabbed, for your sopping panties to strike the back of your head, for Lloyd to make a cutting remark that ends this tumultuous mistake between the two of you once and for all. Instead, you make it all the way to the elevator unmolested, and you don’t turn around, not even when the doors close and the car starts to move. It’s the only concession you make to the shameful ache in your chest. 

You tell yourself it’s because you don’t want that goddamned mustache to be the last part of his face you see--because he’s absolutely going to fire you.

Maybe you can go work for Belloq.

Deep breath in.

Long, unsatisfying breath out.

Too soon, the car stops and the doors open. You don’t have time to turn around before you’re propelled into the corner of the elevator by a panting, still-naked Lloyd. His expression is distorted in the reflective walls of the elevator, and you have to remind yourself to be scared instead of desperately turned on. He jabs his hand against the control panel and throws himself against you, hot and angry. An alarm starts to sound.

“I hired you for this,” he growls, thrusting three fingers inside you. It’s shocking and erotic, taking your breath away. “Only this. It’s all you’re good for.”

We’re both punishing ourselves.

“I love it when you talk dirty, baby,” you tell him in your most sultry, honeysoaked voice.

He lets out a grunt, grabbing your hips to anchor you for a punishing, glorious thrust. As ready as you are, the angle is almost too much, leaving you bruisingly full, fluttering your cunt against the intrusion in a way that draws a shuddering breath from Lloyd. Your hands ache from your tight grip on the railing, but you know what’s next; any second now he’ll start to piston in and out of you, driving both of you into a haze of pleasure-pain. With every second he waits, you crave that movement even more.

Lloyd holds still.

“Look at my reflection.”

“No.”

With the alarm blaring insistently, he presses his upper lip against your ear. The inveterate asshole has done this before, but his mustache was wider then.

“Look up.”

You need to be broken.

You close your eyes.

The crackling static of the intercom startles you into bearing down on his cock, prompting the hitched, involuntary moan you recognize as Lloyd’s highest praise.

“Is uh… Are you being-- do… do you need help?” 

Lloyd lifts his head. “That depends. You allergic to nuts?”

“Huh?”

“Turn off the alarm and fuck off, or you’ll show up at the ER with a throatful of your own testicles.”

“But--”

“Do as the gentleman says,” you rasp, deliberately using Lloyd’s favorite voice and arching your back. He starts to chuckle, caressing his hand against your hip before slamming first one, then the other against either side of the wall. 

You open your eyes without meaning to, embarrassment heating your face when you fully understand the rutting position he’s adopted. He rocks back and you make eye contact right as the static flares up again. The hapless building manager is completely drowned out by the noises both of you make when Lloyd starts fucking into you like he needs it to breathe. It’s ruinous, life-altering, far and away the best fuck of your life, eyes locked onto the ice blue triumph of your boss and his goddamned Statement Mustache.

note: the word 'pants' snuck in, sorry about that! Reader's in a skirt also I use 'somehow' a million times

[pandorasfavorite]

The Silent Love

AN: After 5,000 words I managed to write you guys something a little longer for fun.

The large beaming lights in the center of the ring felt so natural to you. From the young age of 6, the dream of being a wrestler was branded on your heart. And now that you are standing in the middle of the ring with spotlights on you and thousands of people cheering you on. Your dream actually felt completely real, that this is what you were destined to do with your life. No one could stop you from getting what you wanted out of life. Though you couldn’t deny the level of intensity your job brought….Every Friday thru Monday you get ready for work. Sometimes you weren't needed but the new storyline was hot and you just so happen got thrown in the middle of it. Rey Mysterio’s son turned heel and the whole WWE community was astonished at the change. Especially since Dominik was so loyal…and so dedicated to his father's work. As crazy as that was, it didn’t matter to you in the slightest. Dominik Mysterio and his father had nothing to do with you; none of that did.

You were brand new to WWE with no enemies, till Rhea Ripley changed the course of your career. After many matches (and wins), you seemed unstoppable; but you knew better than to let the success get to your head. What played to your advantage was your wrestling persona. You spoke no words, and when push came to shove you still stayed silent. The world has yet to know how you sound when you speak, and they would be waiting a long time. This silent streak was intimidating and many believed you could one day pose a match to Rhea Ripley (the current woman’s champion). You were astonished at the whispers. If anything you admired Rhea and how well she retained her title, yet she wasn’t as happy to be associated with you.

So you couldn’t help but be surprised at her intent to fight you next Friday just to show no one can top her. Partial fear coursed through you at the thought of fighting a champion only a few months into your career. Rhea was beyond adamant and a force to be reckoned with; she wasn’t a person you wanted problems with. Although she did do some things you opposed to. Thursday night was the worst, and Friday morning was no better. You felt terrified to put it simply. This match was going to be huge, Dominik Mysterio was still a fresh member in the Judgement Day meaning he was going to be glued to Rhea’s side. You had no one to back you up; just you, yourself, and the silence you accompanied. 

Now you stood in the middle of the ring, trying to act confident; though you really wanted to curl up and hide. She came out of the threshold with Dominik right beside her, you should’ve been looking at her but you couldn't look away from the man beside her. He was obviously out of practice and was adorning a frown that didn’t really suit his face. He was just a step behind Rhea and she was already starting her speech on how no one could take her place. Yet your eyes followed him the whole time and that only pissed her off worse, “Look at me!” she yelled at you now that she was standing right in front of you in the ring. You pulled your gaze away from him but not without difficulty.

You looked at her and managed to hold eye contact. “Do you have something to say?”, she laughed and got in your face. You said nothing and let your eyes flicker behind her, back to Dominik who was watching with no expression. You felt paralyzed when you had been pushed back, Rhea had picked you up and tossed you onto the floor like a bag of flour. On the floor you squeeze your eyes shut and roll over to avoid her hits, you knew this would hurt; but not like this. You are picked up again and draped over the post of the ring to be pushed off of, your cold and clammy hands only make getting your grip on things worse. Your body smacks on the ring again and you swear your head is ringing from the chorus of cheers. You lay flat on your back only to open your eyes to see Rhea standing above you grinning like a maniac. She kicks your side and you fold into yourself with a hiss of pain. She turns around and starts hyping herself up and pointing towards her belt.

With all the strength in your body, you rose up with one hand around the center of your stomach. When Rhea turned around you backhanded her across the face with all the strength you could muster. A sour expression sunk onto her face and before you knew it she performed her finisher on you. You knew that the chances of winning were below 1%, but at least you got a hit in. She pinned you and you laid there waiting for it to be over, though as you lay on the ground you turned your head to meet Dominik’s eyes again. He swallowed hard and looked away, fixing his composure. Then that was it, they left and you went right after them. You wanted to be alone after such a humiliating match you didn’t even want to do in the first place. You wanted to sit with your thoughts that kept revolving around the guy that you hardly knew.

You turned the corner about to go into the dressing room when you crashed into something hard. You looked up with an apologetic expression only for it to drop instantly when you saw it was Dominik. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as if he is nervous to speak, though he apologizes to Rhea, “I’m sorry she shouldn’t have done that”. You had said nothing and only looked at him with wide eyes. This was the last thing you imagined would happen. You nodded at him and smiled slightly to show that you were grateful for his apology. You were still clutching your stomach, but the pain was ignored in his presence. Though Dominik noticed, he frowned and stared, “Can I walk you to the infirmary?”. He said in a concerned voice but it was also laced with guilt. Surely he didn’t think this was his fault? You wanted to deny the offer and just deal with the pain on your own. But the more attention that was drawn to the ache only made it more painful. You sigh and nod, letting him lead the way.

You both walked side by side with no more words exchanged. And when you made it to the room Dominik rubbed his neck nervously, “Well this is it”. You nodded and looked at him all the same. He clears his throat and looks away from your piercing gaze; yet for some reason, his heart pumps faster. He turns to walk away but before leaving you completely he waved goodbye. You had to do the same. From that point on Dominik had to fight the thoughts of you out of his brain. It was like those small interactions were consuming his mind and making it hard for him to function. He hasn’t even heard you speak yet you already managed to get a hold of him. 

A week passed and your next match wasn’t until Monday. You were excited for more reasons than one. Firstly, you felt fully revived and ready to show off some of the new moves that you came up with. Secondly, Rhea hasn’t released any more statements and your fanbase has only grown since the match. And thirdly, everyone was going to be in for a surprise. You intended to be one of the most creepiest wrestlers out there.

Meaning your silence was going to be a magnet of fear if anything. Your eerily music rang through the stadium and all the lights completely shut off so you could roll out from under the ring and stand in the middle. The lights flickered and after a loud screech, they turned back on to show you in the middle. You were dressed in black attire with dark makeup that only emphasized the horror-type look. You heard whistles and cheers at the sight of you, honestly, it felt like floating in many ways.

You didn’t give a single fuck about who you matched today; you knew with confidence the win was yours. So when Baliey stepped out and rolled into the ring you looked at her with wide creepy eyes ( as the commenters put it). You let Baliey go on her stupid rant while you thought of the best way to shut her up. The match started with punches flying, if Baliey hit you she got a punch right back and so forth. You managed to get an upper hand by kicking her feet from under her. Bailey landed harshly on her back. You picked her up as high as you could and put her on your shoulders. She held onto the top of your head with absolute fear at the fall ahead of her. Just as you were about to drop her another loud blast of music startles you. You were still holding Baliey up when you saw two silhouettes walk out of the opening.

 But you continuously reminded yourself to stay focused and ignore the new people. Their interruption was not close to worthy enough for a loss on your part. Instead of dripping Bailey, you summersault with her on your shoulders. She slams onto the ring and ends up behind her, holding her legs over her head to pin her. Bailey squirms and kicks out on two. You stand up and survey the area for Rhea, you knew it was her just by the music that blasted through the stadium. She was standing at the side of the ring with Dominik to the side of her. You wrinkled your nose in disgust at the pair together. All the respect you had for her was lost.

Then again you looked straight through Dominik, his eyes widened when Baliey came running up behind you. You hold back a smirk at his unintentional warning, and you spin around just in time to punch her across the jaw. She steps back holding the side of her face with a shocked expression. You walk up to her and grab her by the shoulders to bring her stomach down on your knee. She groans loudly and exhales a hard breath, you throw her to the side to lay her down on her back. You pin her and after 3 lengthy counts, the win was yours. Rhea claps slowly and sarcastically to bring your attention to her. You glare unkindly and roll your eyes when she picks up a microphone.

 Again Dominik watches like a little puppy following their owner. You did what Rhea hated most, you ignored her and slid out of the ring to begin walking backstage. Only to come to an instant halt at Dominik’s hesitant voice. “It’s not what you think”, he says but it is drowned out by all the yells and boo’s thrown his way. Dominik looks side to side with annoyance. “Listen-”, he tries again but gets the same response to the same effect. He throws his hands up and just gives the mic back to Rhea, you are tempted to turn around and ignore her once again but Dominik’s pleading look roots you to the ground. She takes the mic but it seems as if it is hard for her to say what is necessary, “Join the Judgement Day” she finally rattles off. You scoff instantaneously.

The next few weeks are to the same effect. Rhea and Dominik interrupt your matches to convince you to join the group. They are hoping to wear down your resolve to the best of their ability. Eventually,,,, Damian and Finn also come out to pester you and in truth,,,, it is getting hard for you to hold your tongue. After another tiring day of constant interruption and nagging from the group, you manage to get away and inside of your dressing room. The moment you plop down onto the couch for a moment of rest, there is a knock on the door.

You groan as loud as possible so the person can hear how much they are inconveniencing you. You sat and hoped they would go away after the clear noise of annoyance. But another soft knock comes from the other side of the door. You take a steady breath and propel yourself off the couch to open the door. Yet you were surprised to see Dominik and Dominik alone on the other side of the door. He bites the inside of his cheek but leans on the doorframe as if he is not nervous. He motions inside, “Can I come in?”, you sigh and nod pushing the door open for him.

For some odd reason you felt drawn to him, and after weeks of looking at him and hearing him (or attempting to) plead for you to join, you kind of developed a small crush on him. Dominik walked in and lingered in the middle of the room, switching from foot to foot while he waited for you to close the door. You closed it shut and spun around to look at him, a small laugh fell from your lips at his awkward composure. Dominik’s heart instantly started to race and he recognized his chest getting warm at the sound.

You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. He blows out a nervous breath but takes a seat beside you anyway, he fiddles with his hands before rushing out what he came to ask you. “Have you thought about joining?”. You slightly shake your head but in all honesty that was all you thought about these past few weeks. You wouldn’t mind being closer to Dominik, and he would love that as well. But one thing kept you from making the decision. He rubs his face in mild disappointment, “Why not?” it almost sounded like a whine.

You pull your lips to the side, not wanting to share the true reason because Dominik surely wouldn’t appreciate it. You shrug and look at him in the most neutral way you could, though he knew. He always knew. “It’s Rhea right?”, he sighs and scratches his eyebrow. Your eyes fly open and you look panicked at being caught, you shake your head no in an attempt to deny it. Dominik clicks his tongue, “I know it is, Hermosa”. Did he just call you beautiful??? The name made your heart race faster than what is considered healthy.

You blush and drop your head to avoid his understanding eyes. Noticeably Dominik has changed since that first night you saw him, he has gotten more influence in his group. He is less nervous to be around you and more confident in himself. So maybe that's why he took your hands in his, you raised your head to look at him in confusion. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her that night. But she will never hurt you or humiliate you like that again. I swear”, he says with serenity and positivity.

Dominik was convinced that Rhea would cause you no harm anymore. You close your eyes to process; you knew that if you looked at Dominik too long you’d have to say yes. Time and time again you told yourself no. No this wasn’t going to work out and no he wasn’t worth the trouble. Things change though. And Dominik holding your hands and consoling you was a change that helped you make up your mind. You open your eyes and give him a short and small nod. Dominik beams with dilated pupils at your acceptance. He lost control of his body which made him pull you directly into his arms.

 He wraps his arms around you and both of you share a similar feeling of embarrassment. Dominik pulls back and he looks mortified at what he had done. He pops up off the couch and mutter something along the lines of “I have to go tell everyone” and then he slips out of the room casually. Yet you could hear him running down the hallway. The long day was eventful and you just signed part of your career away because you were beginning to love a man. “Fuck”, you finally say and bury your head into your hands.

The next time you seen Dominik was in the Judgment Day dressing room, conveniently enough your name was also written on the door. You walked in with your head held high and confidence spilling from your body. You had been prepared for the worst which was ridicule and rude behavior. Yet you heard laughter. It was Dominik and Damian while Finn and Rhea sat with smiles on their face at the exchange. Rhea’s expression hardened when she turned to look at you, you gave her the same hard look and crossed your arms defensively.

Dominik noticed the tension and stopped laughing at the exchange. He rushed over to you and held you by the arm. He coughs to bring the attention to himself, “15 minutes till guys” was all he said before Finn cheered. Finn pops up off the couch and walks over to Damian to smack him on the shoulder, “The Judgment Day rules, right Damian?”. Damian responds with a simple, “Yea” and puts an arm around his friend. Rhea stands up and walks over to you and Dominik, you are noticeably tense under Dominik’s hand.

Dominik felt the nervous energy radiating off of you. He’s not sure why he does it but he finds his arm slipping around you shoulders. The tension in your face goes away in relief at the feeling of protection from him. “Ready then?”, Rhea asks you while quirking her eyebrow. You nod a bit apprehensively. “Still not talking?”, she asks with a smirk. You raise your eyes playfully, trying to be nice. She gives you a small smile back and pats you on the shoulder. Dominik lights up at the pleasant reaction and he can hardly stand still with excitement. You smile to yourself, just maybe you could get used to this. 

A month passes and things are only getting better, you still haven't spoken a word to anyone. But Judgement Day doesn’t seem to mind. They have found themselves accommodating to your silence, therefore they only ask questions that are yes and no. You appreciate their effort, but your silence was a choice of protection for yourself in a way. When you completely trusted someone you would speak to them, and the time came for that to happen.

 But Dominik would be first to hear, he deserved that much. Monday night 20 minutes before his match you pulled him into a closet, away from listening ears. He looks down at you; his hands almost reach out to hold your arms in comfort. You are currently working up the courage to speak by looking into his eyes; they were always so deep with emotion. “Everything okay Hermosa?”, he asks; though his eyes drop down to your lips frequently.

“Yes”, you whisper but it sounded more like a croak from how long it has been. Dominik’s jaw went slack and his shoulders dropped in awe. He couldn’t believe his ears, so much so he rubbed one of them to make sure he was hearing right. “W-what?”, he wants you to speak again, so so badly it hurts. You bite your lips; holding back from laughing at his insane and surprised expression. “Dominik”, you say. He shakes a sharp intake of breath and steps back; only to step forward right back into his previous spot.

He points at your lips and he looks astonished, “You just talked- I mean really spoke”. He shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand down his face. You nod; the corners of your mouth going up. You knew he would react strongly but this was just perfect. He looks crazed to keep hearing you, and his hands finally find the sides of your arms; “Well don’t stop now! Your voice is so- I don’t even know how to put this… angelic”. He is shaking in excitement, you laugh and touch his chest with one of your hands.

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest as well. “When we go back out you have to pretend like nothing was said”, you remind him because surely he wanted to tell all of his friends. He opens his mouth without speaking and exhales heavily. “You're talking”, he pushes out… he has never felt this way before. The emotions he was going through right now were crushing in the best way. He wanted to kiss you and listen to you talk for days/ maybe even months. He never wants to see you nod again, he just wants to hear the soft sound of your voice. He was so struck, and so happy he had to pull you into his chest and wrap his arms around you in a hug.

 You hide your blush and smile into his chest, you suppose you could give him time to calm down and process. After a few more minutes he lets go and asks for you, “Ready?”. “Are you?”, you giggle and push him a bit. He stares for a moment, “You're killing me” he puts his forehead on your shoulder. You touch his hair and you tap his head, motioning with your head towards the door. “Okay I’m ready”, he mutters but makes no move for the handle. You nod and Dominik swallows hard at the denial of another word.

You both step out into the hallway and begin walking towards the group. They all turn around and sigh breathes of relief. “Where have you guys been?”, Rhea says in a strict voice. “Sorry, we got held up by the camera crew. Finn shrugs and looks away but Rhea and Damian aren’t as easily as convinced. They will ignore it for another day…they guess. 

Yet another week passes and Dominik has taken advantage of his privilege of hearing you speak. More often than not he would find time in the hectic day to hear your sickly sweet voice. But today, he could get very few words out of you. It was Wrestlemania and you had a surprise match. Meaning the type of match and who it was with was completely and utterly sheltered from you. You were anticipating the worst as always, but at the end of the day, you were going to make the most of it. Now your match was 8 minutes away and Dominik quickly pulled you into a janitor's closet, “Good luck” he rushed out as if he was nervous for you.

You look up at him from your lashes, “Thank you, see you after?”, you affirmed. “Yeah”, he said like he was breathless. You quirked your brow at him in confusion but time was running out, and a strike of confidence hit you. You rose up to kiss his cheek and you left the closet with a minute to spare.

 Your music blasted and the arena went dark as always, only to flicker when you finally made it to center stage. You stood in the middle with your arms raised in the air and a sinister creepy smile plastered directly on your face. You circled the ring only to come to a complete stop when the music played. Your face dropped and you already felt the tears of betrayal burn your eyes; it was Rhea’s music. She came out alone with her title thrown over her shoulders and you felt no fear.

You felt sick to your stomach, the man you loved had to have known. They all knew and none of them told you a word. You start blinking quickly to wish away the tears, yet the moment Rhea towered over you with a victorious smile. A tear happened to roll down your cheek for the world to see. You whipped it away harshly and gritted your teeth at her quick look of pity. The match started and you grabbed her by the shoulders and punched her across the face 3 times. All your pain and sorrow flowed out of you the entire match. Each kick and push was with hatred for what she did to you.

Worst of all, as you lay flat on the floor with blinding tears; all you could think of was Dominik. You were back in the same position as the first time, thinking of him as you lost. Every piercing pain in your body was nothing compared to how your heartfelt. And when Rhea’s arm was raised into the air, you rolled out of the ring and moved as quickly as you could muster to the dressing room. You pushed the door open so hard it rattled the hinges but you weren’t intending to confront anyone. You wanted to grab your things and get the fuck out of there.

You had been expecting all the boys to be in the room but it was just Dominik. His face was crestfallen and he stood up as soon as you walked in. You spared him no look, your hands fumbled with every article of clothing you had in the room. And you walked right past him to grab all your makeup. You had no use leaving it there anymore; there’s no way you’d be back. Finally, you turned to Dominik with your bags in hand and just stared at him with a quivering lip. You wanted him to see how bad it hurt. He can barely look at you, “I couldn’t tell you”. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit is what screamed in your head.

Your eyes were empty and your silence made him finally look at you. Tears are flowing down your face uncontrollably and Dominik looks just as wounded as he feels. He knew he fucked up, but there may be no coming back from this. “I’m sorry”, he whispers what he can get out. Your hands shake at the apology. You wanted to smack him, you wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, you wanted to scream until your throat burned and you collapsed. He only got closer to you, 3 steps away to be exact.

Your throat burned in disgust, his eyes filled with tears much like yours. “You don’t know how sorry I am, what can I do?”, he was on the verge of sinking to his knees and pleading at your feet. His knees felt weak and he cursed himself for not telling you like he was going to days before. You shake your head at him; no words would be enough. His breathing has gotten fast and your silence is hitting him hard, “Say something. Fuck just say something” he pleads. You swallow hard, “What do you want me to say, Dominik?”. His glossy eyes widen when you take a step closer to him with fury deep in your eyes.

“You want me to tell you about how you broke my fucking heart?”, you take another step towards him. “Or how you betrayed me? The ONLY person I trust?”, you take the final third step towards him and you push him back harshly. Dominik clutches his chest because it feels like his heart is shattered. He fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up. You're leaving and he can’t stop you, he can’t get you back… he ruined his life. “I tried to tell you-”, he croaked and moved towards you again. He held your arms carefully just like he used to, only to be pushed back roughly again, “Don’t touch me!”. He sinks to his knees and begs you to stay, “I need you please, please, please don’t leave me”.

Your breath caught in your throat and your lip quivered again, your face was flushed with tears and your throat felt tight. “Tell me why”, you demand him and harshly wipe the tears again. He looks down shamefully. “Tell me”, you grit out. He stands up on shaky legs and breathes carefully, “It was a contract when you first joined. This was planned since the beginning. But things changed, you changed me Hermosa”.

You scoffed and clenched your fists. You grab your bags off the floor and turn around to leave with a broken heart. “I LOVE YOU! Is that what you wanted to hear?!?! I love you” he yelled in hysteria after you. You sucked in a shaky breath at his confession; because after it all you loved him so much more. You turned your head to look at his crestfallen face, “Not enough” you replied. He clenched his hands and a lonely tear rolled down his face, “Hate me”. Your body stood still in awe, “What?” you gasped out.

He took another prodding step, “Hate me but don’t leave it like this. Don’t leave us like this”. “You’re my everything” his voice cracked with his last notion of hope. Your voice shook and so did your body; one thing was for sure you loved him. You couldn’t let go no matter how much it hurt, “I need time”. He nodded instantly, he would give you anything now that he lost everything.

Your lips pressed together and a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, “I love you and I need you but not like this” you sniffle. “I love you”, he says back in one breath though his hands were shaking to stop your tears. Part of you knew you’d come back to him in time but for now, you leave the room and shut the door. “I love you”, you hear from behind the closed door; you turn around.