#April fools fic

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

"Sonic vs. Tails - The Ultimate April Fools Battle"

AO3 link if you'd rather read it there ;)

6:38 a.m.

Early on a Monday morning, Sonic awoke to a rocking sensation. For a moment it was nice, soothing even, and he thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep on a hammock or something.

Except, it was in fact not soft fabric beneath him, but wooden boards.

A faint smell of salt alerted him next. Then a strong gust of wind. Then the cry of a seagull.

A seagull?!

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, panic immediately flooding his chest upon seeing a huge mass of water all around him. He found himself sitting in a wooden fishing boat, smack dab in the middle of it.

He jumped up to his feet with a squeak of true fear, wobbling as the rocking of the boat nearly made him lose his balance.

He raced to the pole where the sails were attached and jumped onto it, full-body clinging to it with both arms and legs. "HOW IN MOBIUS DID I GET OUT HERE?!" he yelled indignantly, as loudly as he could for having just woken up.

A snicker sounded above him, and he jerked his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash.

And whom should he see perched atop the sails post but his little brother, Tails, his namesakes waving around and mischief practically written all over his face.

"Happy April Fools," the smug little fox greeted him, still giggling.

Sonic relaxed slightly, but shot Tails a feigned death glare. "It's on," he shot back, unable to hide a smirk.

-

8:23 a.m.

He had to be subtle about this. Tails was obviously very well aware what day it was. He had to be sly.

So, for his first prank of many, Sonic ran out to buy a cheap whoopie cushion, then slipped it in the Tornado's cockpit, at a perfect angle so Tails wouldn't see it until it was too late.

He was pretty proud of himself for keeping it cool, going on runs and swinging back by the workshop every few minutes to see when Tails needed to go out for a flight.

Except it was taking too long.

If he didn't get that over with, all his time to come up with more pranks for the day would be gone. And that simply wouldn't do.

"Hey, Tails!" he called from the roof, where he'd been leisurely lounging for the past five minutes. "Wanna go for a shopping run?"

After a pause of silence filled only with the sound of some metal clanging, Tails called back, "For what? I thought we were stocked."

"No, we need more— flour." He quickly improvised, having not actually checked the pantry beforehand.

"Why do we need more flour?" Tails sounded both distracted and confused as he continued whatever he was clanging around with.

"Because bread." Sonic flipped onto the ground and leaned his head through the window. "We should make bread."

Tails finally pulled back his goggles and shot him a look. "Why do you want to make bread?"

"Don't question it, Tails! Why can't I be allowed to wanna try new stuff?"

"Because it's April Fools, that's why." Tails smirked and pulled his goggles back down, studying the chunks of metal he was abusing. "There's probably a prank waiting for me at the store or something."

Sonic clasped a hand to his chest dramatically. "You seriously think I went and sabotaged public property just to pull a prank on you?!"

Without missing a beat, and without shifting his eyes from his work, Tails replied, "Yeah."

Sonic huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't. And the only way for you to see that is to come on shopping with me. I'll even let you pick the store so that you can be sure."

Tails looked at him, arching a brow and resting one hand on his hip. "You're so random," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "You realize you can go shopping by yourself, right?"

"Well, sue me for wanting to spend time with my darling little brother," Sonic pouted, trying his best to pull off a puppy-dog-eyes look.

"Since when did you become so clingy?" Tails laughed, finally setting aside his things and flying over to the window.

Finally!

"It was inevitable. You're too loveable." Sonic yanked him into a hug, right before letting him start flying towards the Tornado.

"I don't know whether to feel touched or suspici—" Tails abruptly broke off as he hopped into the cockpit, and the whoopie cushion immediately squeezed beneath him, filling the air with its awful sounds.

His face went beet red for a moment, then he closed his eyes and sighed. Sonic had already fallen over laughing, tears springing to his eyes at Tails's expression.

"Bread, huh?" Tails sounded way too calm as he turned to face his brother, but there was a terrifying glint in his eyes.

"You bet!" Sonic laughed. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's go get flour!"

Tails picked up the whoopie cushion and hurled it full force at the hedgehog's face.

-

8:52 a.m.

After the whoopie cushion incident, Tails forced Sonic to go out shopping anyway. He even managed to trick him into thinking he was doing it as an apology.

Oh, was that poor hedgehog mistaken. He was so in for it. Tails had sent him out shopping— alone— so he could set up his revenge prank.

He decided to go with a simple one. Perhaps he would save the more intricate and wild pranks for later in the day.

This one would still be personal, though.

Barely suppressing a little cackle of glee, Tails snatched a large bottle of clear super glue and generously poured it all over the welcome mat at his front door. This glue wouldn't fully dry for another twenty to thirty minutes, and since Sonic was only getting one thing from the store, he wouldn't take nearly that long.

Sure enough, five minutes after he'd laid the prank, he heard the distinct BOOM in the distance of his brother's impending arrival.

Tails already knew Sonic wasn't going to notice the glue. If it wasn't immediately obvious, and he wasn't in danger, he didn't pay attention to detail like that.

The door handle jiggled for a moment, then was followed by a banging on the door. His muffled voice called, "Tails, if you're gonna send me out to buy stuff we don't actually need, the least you could do is leave the door unlocked for me to actually give you the stuff we don't need."

"Oh, dear chaos!" Tails called back, deliberately sounding way too dramatically surprised. "How did the door lock itself?!"

It didn't matter if Sonic caught on. If he was banging on the door, it was too late for him.

"I don't like your tone, young man." Sonic definitely sounded suspicious, and Tails could barely suppress his triumphant laughter.

"Sorry, Dad." With a snicker, he unlocked the door and swept it open, where he found Sonic standing with a hefty bag of flour, shooting him a look.

He was standing right in the middle of the super glue puddle.

"Seriously, bro? Locking me outside? That's the best you g-GAAUHH!" Sonic broke off as he tried to take a step forward, only to pull the entire doormat up with his foot and lose his balance. He tried desperately to right himself, but only ended up pinwheeling his arms, losing his grip on the bag of flour, and falling square on his chest. A second later, the bag of flour came down on his head and immediately popped open upon pricking his quills.

After the flour dust settled, the two brothers looked at each other for a solid ten seconds, the younger standing tall with his arms crossed and a smug smile, the older slumped on the ground, covered in flour to the point of looking like a ghost, glaring daggers.

He sneezed. "That was low. I like my kicks."

"They'll be fine," Tails insisted, brushing off the flour that had drifted into his fur. "I've got a solution that'll cancel out the glue."

Sonic shook himself off, then stood up and sneezed again. "You owe me twenty rings for the waste of perfectly good flour that we didn't need."

Tails stuck his tongue out at him, then started blowing the spilled flour out the door with his tails.

-

9:35 a.m.

Sonic took a shower after the flour incident, and he made it quick enough so that Tails didn't have any time to try anything more on him, since he was still cleaning up said flour.

Once he'd gotten out and dried off, Tails brushed past him into the bathroom, and a few seconds later he heard the shower start up again.

No way there was this golden opportunity just dangling in front of him . . .

Grinning, Sonic first went to the kitchen and hit the switch for the power hose. Next time Tails went to wash the dishes, he was in for a little surprise.

Then, very quietly, he nudged the door open to the bathroom (where Tails was still in the shower), reached in, and flushed the toilet.

A second later, there was a high pitched "Yipe!" and one very startled, very wet fox kit scrambled out of the tub at the suddenly freezing water.

Sonic heard his name screeched furiously from over his shoulder as he laughed and booked it for the front door, only to catch on the doormat and faceplant the sidewalk, his socks now stuck in the super glue still coating the mat.

-

10:14 a.m.

He deserved this fate, Tails claimed.

"It's called revenge!" Sonic yelled through the door from where he lay on the ground outside in the yard. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge! Can I have the anti solution for the glue now?"

"Nope," Tails called back.

"C'moooon. These are my last clean socks, I can't just take them off and put on dirty ones. Do you want me to defile the house with smelly feet?"

"Ohh, manipulation. That's a new one!"

"Tails!"

"Just wear flipflops. Or go barefoot. I dunno."

"I don't like flip flops!" Sonic squirmed onto his side. "And I don't like being barefoot! Running barefoot is painful!"

"Ah, well. Guess you'd better apologize for ruining my lovely shower and forfeit all your desserts to me for the next three months, if you ever want to run again."

"Sorry, who was being manipulative?"

"You were!"

Sonic huffed. "You know, I could just do laundry. Yeah. Do laundry and be free."

"Wow!" Tails sounded way too amazed. "That's so genius!"

"I'll wash all my socks! I'll wash all the socks!" With caution, Sonic forced his way back onto his feet, then hopped inside the house, doormat still attached. "I'll be free in a matter of . . . hours." He frowned. "Hey Tails, can dish soap clean clothes? And how fast does a fur dryer dry clothes?"

Tails was standing in the kitchen, pouring the remains of the flour that hadn't touched the floor into a canister. He eyed his brother for a moment, then smiled sweetly. "There's one way to find out."

Without thinking, Sonic broke into a relieved grin and started hopping his way into the kitchen. "Good, because if I have to be stuck like this for one—"

He turned the faucet on, and immediately a powerful spray of cold water shot out at his face from the power hose. He yelped and sputtered, immediately switching it off as he suddenly realized he'd fallen for his own prank.

Or, more likely, Tails had seen right through his prank, and had made him fall for it.

Sonic looked down at him, water dripping down his face and off his quills. Tails had lost his cool composure and was doubled over, squeaking with laughter.

-

10:30 a.m.

"I deserved that one," Sonic grumbled, toweling off his face.

Tails sat beside him on the porch, eyes closed in smug contentment as he brushed out his tails. "Yes. You did."

Sonic turned and grinned devilishly. "You realize this isn't over, lil bro."

Tails turned a fanged smile right back on him. "Far from it."

-

11:04 a.m.

Sonic burst through Amy's door and immediately said, "Ames, I need a favor!"

Amy nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her paintbrush onto the carpet. She sighed, but picked it up without complaining, set it on the ledge of her painter's stand, and gave him her attention. "What's up?"

"Sorry for that," he said quickly, then added, "Could you make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, but like, make three of them with raisins instead?"

Amy wrinkled her forehead even as she smiled. "Wait, what? Why?"

"It's April Fools. I need to get back at Tails."

"Oh, no." Amy laughed as she stood up and started heading for her kitchen. "What'd he do?"

"Oh, many things." As Amy set to making the cookies, he told her all about the events of the day so far. He told her about the pranks on both sides, just to keep it fair.

Amy was aware of their April Fools traditions. The same basic thing had happened the past two years as well.

It had been last year that they learned the hard way not to prank Knuckles. Or Shadow.

"You should really learn to bake," Amy commented as she eventually pulled the batch out of the oven. "It's really very fun! And satisfying."

"You know what'll be satisfying?" He snickered. "The look on Tails's face when he thinks he's gonna taste chocolate and tastes raisins instead!"

Amy shook her head with an amused sigh. "That too, I guess."

They hung out together for another twenty minutes or so, then Sonic bid her farewell and took off back to the workshop.

-

12:22 p.m.

Tails had resumed working on whatever project he'd been doing earlier that morning.

"Yo, Tails!" Sonic raced into the room, holding the container of cookies. "Amy made us cookies!"

"Ooh, she did?" Tails immediately paused what he was doing and lit up, but then suspicion clouded his face. "Wait . . . what's going on?"

"Bro, it's just cookies," Sonic laughed. "What, do you think they're poisoned?"

Tails kept hesitating, but Sonic could see him scenting the air. Since the majority of them were chocolate chip, he was detecting that— not the few raisins.

"Okay. I'll take one," he finally relented, and Sonic handed him one with raisins.

He started heading back to his project as he took a bite, but immediately stopped in his tracks. Sonic watched him stop chewing and look at the cookie for a long moment, then turn and shoot him a deadpan look.

"You're so mean," he complained, mouth still full with the bite he refused to swallow (he hated raisins). Then he tried to spit it out onto Sonic, who yelped and raced away, dropping the container of cookies on the floor.

Tails picked it up, having already figured out that most of the others were actually chocolate chip. Jokes on Sonic, now he had all the good cookies to himself.

-

1:01 p.m.

Their prank fest had delayed lunch a bit, so Sonic (after eventually returning) told Tails to kick back and relax while he made chili.

Tails seemed a little too pleased with the idea, but Sonic barely noticed, too hungry to care.

As he stirred through the pot, Tails watched him, grinning in anticipation for the meal. Earlier, while Sonic had been lying around the front yard with the doormat glued to his socks and complaining, Tails had switched out the salt and sugar.

Half an hour later or so, they sat down together to eat. It seemed Sonic thought they had reached a temporary truce, but oh, little did he know.

Tails deliberately took his sweet time in spooning the chili onto his hot dog, eyeing his brother in his corner vision. Sonic had made his in no time, digging in with two big bites before Tails had even finished dressing his.

Almost immediately Sonic paused, blinked a couple times, then kept chewing. Then paused again, frowning.

His eyes flicked to Tails, who quickly resumed dressing his chili dog.

Sonic finally swallowed. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Tails asked innocently, actually being subtle this time.

"Chili tastes more like dessert." The hedgehog squinted at him. "Did you sabotage the chili cans?"

Tails sniffed. "How dare you accuse me."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't. The cans were sealed, weren't they?"

"Hm." Sonic took another hesitant bite, but stopped again, shaking his head. "This tastes so weird. Have you tried yours?"

Tails shrugged. "Try salting it," he suggested, avoiding the question.

Sonic grabbed the salt shaker and generously covered his chili dog with its contents, then took another bite, only to actually choke over it this time.

"Okay, did you—?!" He snatched the shaker again, shook a little onto his finger, tasted it, then chucked it at Tails, who laughed and dove out of the way. "You switched the salt and sugar?!"

"Well, duh!" Tails switched to hovering over the table, snickering. "There are no truces today, dearest brother!"

Sonic threw the too-sweet chili dog at him next, inevitably splattering chili over the table.

"You're cleaning that up!" Tails called in a singsong voice. "I'm going out to Josef's Pasta Alla Paccico!"

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

-

2:10 p.m.

They both ended up eating out at Josef's, and even though they did truly call a ceasefire for a grand total of twenty-five minutes, they split the time between actually eating and blowing their straw wrappers at people, having mini sword fights with the butter knives, and constructing architecture with the plates and takeout boxes.

Needless to say, the only reason they didn't get kicked out was probably because both Sonic and Tails were practically world-renowned.

Not long after they returned to the workshop, Sonic inevitably crashed for a nap. He usually couldn't make it through a day without a nap at some point, which was always unfortunate for him on this particular day of the year.

Tails studied him where he slept, on a branch of the tree in his front yard. He knew he'd been the last one to pull something, but hey, who said they were taking turns?

There was simply no way he was passing this up.

First, he grabbed a sharpie and very carefully drew an elaborate mustache worthy of Eggman across his brother's face. He added a few random smiley faces on his cheek and arms, as well as the phrase "SLO-MO" on one shoulder.

Then he grabbed an assortment of potato chips and began carefully stacking them on his head, in his hands, on his stomach, in an entire tower.

He made sure to take pictures through the whole process, then— leaving him there to sleep, still covered in sharpie and potato chips— flew off to print the photos.

Going above and beyond, he put the printed photos in a fancy envelope, marked them as "priority mail," addressed them to Sonic's post office box, disguised himself, then dropped them off at the post office.

An hour passed after he had done all that, and Sonic finally stirred awake.

Upon seeing the stack of chips in front of him, he promptly fell out of the tree with a yelp, and Tails started giggling.

"What did you do to me?" Sonic whined, brushing all the crumbs off his head and chest as he stood up, still groggy.

"You think that's bad?" Tails teased. "Go check the mirror."

A look of horror filled his brother's eyes, then he was gone in a flash. Tails kept giggling, and laughed harder when he heard the yell from inside: "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE EGGFACE?!"

"It's called revenge!" Tails called back gleefully. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge!"

Sonic came storming back outside. "How dare you use my own words against me."

"Sorry," Tails told him insincerely.

His brother scrubbed at his cheek. "How long will it take for this to wash off?"

Tails shrugged. "A couple days, probably."

Sonic's resulting screech was loud enough to startle away all the nearby flickies.

-

4:32 p.m.

Sonic spent at least half an hour in the bathroom desperately trying to scrub the marker out of his fur, but only succeeded in making it fade a little.

"Taking advantage of my sleep cycle," he huffed, reaching out to mess up Tails's bangs from where the fox kit sat on the couch. "So rude."

Tails tried to fix his bangs, while Sonic flopped onto the other end of the couch. "Consider it payback for you dyeing my fur green last year."

"You still looked cool, at least!" Sonic protested. "If Egghead sees me like this, I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"I looked like a lime!" Tails shot back. "I had to hide from society for an entire month!"

"It wasn't a month."

"Three and a half weeks. Close enough."

"Mm."

Tails shot him a look, and Sonic reached over to mess up his bangs again. He was rewarded with a throw pillow to the face.

Sonic threw it back, and it was just about to escalate into a fully fledged pillow fight when the doorbell rang.

Both of them froze, and Sonic zipped away in a flash. "I'm not here! You don't know me! If anyone asks, I'm in Holoska on a nice, arctic vacation!"

"Chicken!" Tails taunted after him, then flew over to the door and pulled it open to find Amy and Knuckles standing on the other side.

(Thankfully, the super glue had dried hours before.)

"Hey, guys!" he greeted them, stepping back to let them in. "What's the occasion?"

Amy said sweetly, "We just wanted to make sure you and Sonic were doing okay!" at the same time Knuckles said, "We came to supervise."

Tails rolled his eyes. "We don't need babysitters."

Amy glanced around. "Did Sonic leave?"

Knuckles frowned as Tails snickered. "I guess he did. He's telling everyone he's going to Holoska."

"You can't stop me!" Sonic's muffled voice shouted from somewhere towards the back of the workshop.

"Nobody's trying!" Tails called back, his voice catching on a laugh. "Just be sure to warn Jari-Pekka about your new look!"

"New look?" Knuckles echoed.

Amy facepalmed. "What did you do to him?"

Tails waved a hand flippantly. "It'll come off in a few days."

"And this is why we thought you two needed supervision," Knuckles groaned. "Today always gets out of hand."

"Do we need to separate you two?" Amy asked, although she was grinning.

Sonic chose that moment to burst explosively out of the closet, zip to his brother's side, and pull him close in a protective hug. "No, don't separate us!" he insisted, forcing a huge smile. "Everything's going just fine!"

Knuckles and Amy took a solid ten seconds to stare at Tails's artwork all over Sonic's face, then started laughing, albeit good-naturedly.

Tails grinned at where he was still trapped in his brother's hold, only to start violently trying to squirm away when said brother slipped a sharpie out of hiding and started drawing his revenge on the fox's face.

-

6:00 p.m.

Knuckles and Amy chose to spend the rest of the day at the workshop with them, just to make sure things didn't get any crazier than they already had. By the time dinnertime arrived, both Sonic and Tails had sharpie all over their faces, although the "art" on Tails's face could hardly be called as such. Because of his squirming during the whole process, it was nothing more than random scribbles of blue in random places on his face.

"Next year I'll dye you blue," Sonic promised him as the four of them had dinner together (after Amy switched back the salt and sugar). "We can match!"

"Pass." Tails swallowed his bite. "I'll just look like some kind of mutant smurf."

Sonic snickered. "All the more reason to do it, then!"

Amy groaned. "Boys . . ."

"Hey, we should rope you into this!" Sonic exclaimed suddenly, staring straight at Amy.

"If you want a hammer to the face next, feel free!" Amy stuck her tongue out at him, although she had to hide a giggle.

"As long as you leave me out of it, do whatever you want," Knuckles put in wearily, sounding much like a parent tired of trying to control his children.

Tails smiled at all of them. Knuckles was right; this day was always crazy, and sure, things got out of hand sometimes. But he had no regrets. It was fun. It was a stupid way of bonding with his brother, and that was something he would never regret.

A Happy April Fools Day, indeed.

[littlejuicebox]

Plumber’s Crack(fic) / Leaky Pipes

I wrote this for an April Fool’s challenge. You can all thank @vixstarria for influencing me and for this monstrosity coming from that one single tag. AO3 link here.

This is written to be intentionally bad smut. Proceed if you want psychic damage.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

Summary: In a Modern AU, Tav is looking for an expert escort roleplay experience. She gets far more than she expected.

Astarion sighs as he pulls up to a small, ranch style-house with a bunch of flamingo— no, goose… what the fuck?— garden ornaments. He glances at the number over the garage – 401 Pink Clam Street; yes, this is the right address. He pulls down the visor and watches himself in the mirror as he attaches the stupid fucking fake mustache he has to wear on these house calls. Mr. Szarr said no one trusts a plumber without facial hair… what the hell is he on, anyway?

He cannot wait until he is able to quit. This was supposed to be a temporary gig. But now it’s been years, he’s still stuck in this seemingly dead-end job, and truly, everything about it makes his skin crawl. Toilets, clumps of hair in the sink, sticking himself in small, confined spaces… gods, it’s all horrible. He sighs and climbs out of the work van. Time to just… get it over with.

*

When Tav hears the knock on the door, her eyebrows crinkle. She glances at the clock atop her vanity. It’s eleven in the morning – they’re two hours early. Well, perhaps they’re really in character… don’t plumbers normally come at any other time besides the time they actually say they will? She asked for realistic roleplay this time, unlike what she got from the last crap escort she hired. She’s getting what she’s paying for, at least.

She opens the door and is shocked to see a ridiculously handsome man standing at the entryway. She knew escorts were attractive but– well, she hadn’t exactly expected a greek god in a plumber’s uniform. Turns out, she’s definitely getting what she’s paying for this time around.

“Are you Ms. Tav…” Astarion pauses as he stares down at the word on the clipboard. He lifts an eyebrow. No, that can’t be right.

“Pusey? Yes, that’s me.”

“Can you spell that for me, ma’am?”

Tav blinks. This guy is… really taking the part seriously. “P-U-S-E-Y.”

Astarion nods as he stares down at the form in his hand. Mr. Szarr spelled it wrong on the form, of course. He’s going to have to fix it before she fills out the bottom half at the end. He glances back up to acknowledge the woman; she looks like she’s about to go pose for Playboy at any moment. She’s gorgeous, he has to admit. “I’m Astarion, the plumber. I’m told you need some assistance with your rim holes?”

Tav giggles. It’s time for her to play along. She puts on her best sultry face as she says, “Oh, yes. My rim holes are… definitely in need of your expertise. Please come inside.”

Astarion steps into the house. It’s small, but well-kept and well-decorated. It seems as if she lives entirely alone. “Where is your bathroom, ma’am?”

“I’ll show you,” Tav responds as she begins to head down the hallway. “I apologize, it’s very, very dirty.”

They walk into the bathroom and Astarion looks around. It isn’t dirty at all. Was she making a joke? He puts down his tools, opens the toilet lid, and begins to examine the commode.

“Is it true that… plumbers are good at laying pipe?”

Astarion glances up at the woman. She’s leaning against the doorframe, the picture of seduction. Her silk robe is slipping off her frame; she’s wearing a thin nightie underneath. She really does look like a Playboy centerfold. He swallows. “Yes, ma’am… it’s definitely an important part of the job. Perhaps the most important part. No one wants a plumber that can’t lay pipe.”

“Are you good at laying pipe, Astarion?”

He swallows again and stands. This was… not usually how these things went. “I would consider myself an expert, yes.”

“Then why don’t you show me how good you are at it?”

She’s got him by the coverall strap before he can protest, and her lips crash into his with reckless abandon. She smells wonderful, she’s gorgeous, and she seems to be very into him so it does not take long for Astarion to reciprocate. They’re caught in an embrace in the middle of the bathroom.

Tav breaks the kiss, and when she pulls away, she cannot help but giggle. Astarion’s fake mustache is dangling half off his face.

“Fuck this,” Astarion growls, and he rips the mustache off before eagerly wrapping his hands around the woman. He lifts her onto the bathroom counter and begins hiking up her nightie; he notices she isn’t wearing anything underneath. She’s unclipping his coveralls; they drop down around his ankles.

“Snake my leaky drain, Astarion,” Tav demands, her hands coming to pull his cock from his tighty whities.

He’s honestly surprised by her forwardness. But he does as she asks and quickly sinks himself inside her. He doesn’t last particularly long; he’s a bit embarrassed, but it’s not like he’s ever going to see this woman again. He isn’t so inconsiderate as to leave her without finishing, of course… it just… takes a while. A long while. His hand starts to cramp toward the end.

When the two of them are finished, Astarion runs a hand through his hair and looks around the bathroom. Tav is still on the counter, her hair a mess of tangled curls; one of her fake lashes is falling off. Well… at least they were both wearing fake body hair.

He glances at his wrist watch. Shit– he needs to complete the job and get out of here; he has another assignment later this afternoon. He coughs and tries his best to return to his professional role. “If you… give me a couple minutes to finish up here, I’ll be out of your way, ma’am.”

“Oh… of course.” Tav says and she slips from the counter and tugs her nightgown back down. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be out there with your payment when you’re ready.”

After a couple minutes, Astarion exits the restroom. It took him a bit longer than usual because he had to fill out a new form with the proper spelling of the client’s name. Tav is waiting for him in the kitchen with a smile. “I need a signature from you here, Ms. Pusey.”

Tav obliges and signs the piece of paper. Then she pulls out her wallet. “How much?”

“Five hundred.” Astarion murmurs as he tears off her receipt and hands it to her.

She nods and pulls out six bills. “There’s an extra hundred, for you, of course.”

“Oh. Thank you, ma’am.”

She pulls him into another kiss. “You’re one of the best plumbers I’ve had so far. I might be… contacting your company for your services again sometime.”

Astarion smiles and nods. He sticks the cash in his pocket. He’s not quite sure if he actually wants to be contacted by her or not after this… somewhat embarrassing situation, but he appreciates the sentiment all the same. “I’ll be on my way.”

Tav walks him to the front door. Then she quickly hops in the shower to clean off the evidence of their tryst. When she returns to the kitchen, she sees a text from her landlord.

Ms. Pusey, I forgot to mention this earlier. A plumber should be by this morning, around 11:00 to fix an issue with your toilet we noticed on our biannual walkthrough. His name is Astarion. Please pay him for his services; we will reimburse you once you provide the receipt. Apologies for any inconvenience.

She blinks at the text message. Wait a second…

The doorbell rings. She leaves her phone on the counter. She rips open the front door to reveal… a large, muscular man, dressed in a plumber's uniform.

The man roams his eyes over Tav and smirks mischievously before leaning his arm against the doorframe and staring down at her. His voice is low and suggestive as he speaks. “Hello, Ms. Pusey. My name is Hal Sin. I’m told you have some leaky pipes in need of immediate attention?”

[britany1997]

Paul and Fishy: Jokes On You

A little surprise April Fools day fic with everyone’s favorite besties🥰

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Dwayne sat on the lip of the fountain while he waited for Marko and David. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed, and his lips twisted downward.

As Marko walked into the main alcove of the cave, he didn’t look much happier.

“What’s up?” he asked, “why’d you call a meeting, and why couldn’t we tell Paul?”

Dwayne’s frown grew, “take a wild guess,” he grumbled.

Marko rolled his eyes, “you too huh?” he shook his head, “he’s out of control.”

Dwayne grit his teeth, “he welded training wheels onto my motorcycle,” he spit, “it was hell to get ‘em off”

Marko scoffed, “you think that’s bad? He replaced my swim trunks with the kind that dissolve when they get wet.”

Dwayne’s eyes widened.

“We were tailing these girls at the beach, chattin’ ‘em up you know? So we could eat right?”

Dwayne nodded as Marko continued.

“Well they wanna go in the water so I say sure, because I’m fucking starving, next thing I know I’m naked from the waist down,”

Dwayne groaned, “he needs to be stopped.”

Marko nodded in agreement before his jaw dropped at the sight of David strolling into the living room, his hair neon green.

Dwayne mirrored Marko’s shocked expression.

“Not. A. Word.” David grit.

Marko growled, “this is ridiculous! We have to do something! We can’t just stand by and let him terrorize us!”

Dwayne stroked his chin thoughtfully, I think I know someone who can help us out.

Paul woke up late in the evening and began to flit around his room. He grabbed a bottle of shaving crème, bright pink hair dye, and motor oil as his lips morphed into a devious smile.

The boys’ greatest nightmare had become his new hobby, and he couldn’t wait to unleash everything he had planned.

He moved to salute Fishy and head out his door, but what he saw in Fishy’s bowl made him stop in his tracks.

The little goldfish usually floating in his glass bowl had seemingly transformed into a measly goldfish cracker.

Paul’s jaw dropped and he rushed over to Fishy’s bowl. “Fishy?! Fishy! Talk to me!”

Fishy the goldfish cracker rested on the rocks at the bottom of the fish bowl, not moving or responding to Paul’s questions.

Tears gathered in the corners of Paul’s eyes, but he held them back. He had to be strong for his friend.

“We need to figure out what’s happened,” he decided, “don’t worry bud, I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Fishy returned Paul’s concern with silence.

Paul’s heart clenched in his chest, but he swallowed his fear to try and save his friend.

“The only thing that I think could have done this is a spell! Someone must have hexed you Fishy!”Paul exclaimed, “unfortunately I’ve pissed off a few witches in my eternal life,” he shook his head, “they just get too clingy you know?”

The goldfish cracker didn’t respond.

Paul’s eyes grew wide, “we better hurry,” he said as he gathered Fishy’s bowl in his arms.

Paul ran to Dwayne’s alcove, Fishy in tow.

“Dwayne,” Paul whispered as his head whipped around for the brunette vampire, who appeared to be nowhere in sight.

“Perfect,” Paul said as he sped to Dwayne’s bookshelves.

He set Fishy’s bowl down next to him, “if anyone’s gonna have the book to fix this, it’s Dwayne,” Paul explained, “that man has more books then the Santa Carla library!”

Paul scoured Dwayne’s shelves, reading aloud to himself, “let’s see, Pride and Prejudice? no. As I Lay Dying? no. War and Peace?” Paul scoffed, “nerdy much Dwayne?

He kept looking, “Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals? Non-fiction! Now we’re getting somewhere.” Paul whispered to himself.

Paul searched through books on history, philosophy, and political thought before finally finding the books he needed.

He pulled out all of Dwayne’s books on witchcraft and wizardry, until they formed a mountainous pile on the floor of Dwayne’s room.

Paul breathed out, intimidated by the thick stack of books. But as he turned back to look at his friend, he knew what he had to do.

Hours passed as Paul thumbed through the spell books. As he came to the last couple of texts in the stack, his resolution had begun to wear thin.

Paul gasped holding the last book in the pile, “reversing hexes to third parties!” He cried as his face snapped to look to Fishy.

As Paul read his excitement vanished, “no, no, no! These are all to reverse hexes on people! It doesn’t say anything about Fish! No!” Paul yelled as he threw the book in frustration.

Paul placed his hands on his hips and sighed, “I’m getting nowhere, I’m gonna have to ask the boys to help.”

Paul sighed and picked up Fishy bowl as he walked into the main alcove of the cave dejectedly.

To Paul’s surprise, the other three boys were sat waiting for him around the fountain.

Paul’s mouth gasped when he saw the plastic cup containing his goldfish best friend.

“What?” he gasped in disbelief, “WHAT?!”

David crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow.

“Fishy you’re ok!” Paul exclaimed, tears of joy rolling down his cheeks, “ah this is such a relief,”

“Wait,” he started, “if this isn’t Fishy…who’s this??” Paul asked holding up the fishbowl.

Marko shot him a look of disbelief, “are you serious? It’s just a goldfish cracker Paul.”

Paul gasped as he pulled the cracker out of the bowl and tossed it away.

Dwayne moved forward to pour Fishy from the plastic cup into the fishbowl. Once Fishy was back in his bowl and tucked into Paul’s arms again, Paul breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What’s wrong with you guys?!” Paul asked exasperated as he shot the other vampires a nasty look.

“It was a prank,” David said as he ran a hand through his neon green hair.

Paul scoffed, “well it wasn’t funny,”

Dwayne raised an eyebrow, “it wasn’t was it?”

“It wasn’t!” Paul agreed, “I was freaking out! I spent all night trying to find a cure!”

“Not too fun being pranked,” Marko piped up as he shot Paul a knowing look, “is it?”

Paul cringed, “no…I guess not,” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, “I’m really sorry guys. I’ve been goin’ too far lately.”

Marko sighed, “we forgive you dude, you know we love you.”

Paul smiled softly, “I love you guys too,” he assured them.

The other three vampires smiled and returned to their rooms, leaving Paul and Fishy alone in the lobby.

Paul peered down into Fishy bowl, “traitor,” he whispered.

Fishy shook his fin and swam in a circle.

Paul’s lip turned up into a half smile, “I get it bud, I was totally out of control, I want to be the best me I can be too.”

Fishy blinked three times.

Paul beamed and hugged Fishy’s bowl, “thanks bud, you’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“PAUL!”

Paul cringed as he heard his name echo through the halls of the cave in Dwayne’s booming voice.

Paul turned to Fishy, “I guess he saw all his books.”

He picked up Fishy bowl and raced to the ladder, “c’mon Fishy, I’ll start being the best me possible tomorrow.”

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Taglist❤️:

@misslavenderlady @dwaynesluscioushair @dwayxluvs @pixielostboy @paulistwistedsister @paperbackfangs @solobagginses @ghoulgeousimmaculate @6lostgirl6 @mickkmaiden333 @its-freaking-bats @gothamslostboy @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @feardot-com @riz-coolgirl @groovyspock @flower-crowned-lady @honeybedo @warrior-616 @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @lostboys1987girl @henhouse-horrors

[clone-whore-99]

In the light of the new bad batch episode, I think I know who my next april fools fic is gonna be about

[cherry-pop-elf]

Birthday Boys

It’s Fred and George’s birthday, and you wanted to give them something very special. It’s hard to give them something like that, but you are married to them for a reason. As if they would ever settle for someone boring, now would they?

Warnings: 18+, Double Penetration (A and V), teasing, breeding, overstimulation, dirty talk, birthday suits ((hehe)) lipstick kink(?) and of course Fred Lives. Because I said so ((George still missing an ear tho! Bleh-!))

“Well what’s this?” George would blink, as a paper airplane would land itself on his desk. Fred would raise a brow, as he set down the ink he had grabbed for his younger twin. It’s April First. The ever busiest day of the year, and their birthday as well. That meant they were swamped with work, and just trying to finish the day. The shop may be closed, now, but damn they were still drowning.

“Don’t just stare at it, open it up-!” Fred would bonk the younger twin, with his wand, making him fix at his hair. He would give a grumble, as he unfolded the neat little parchment. By the hand writing alone, he knew it was from you. What was written made him a bit flushed in the cheeks. Always was the more emotional of the two, so Fred was quick to look over his shoulder. Reading along.

To my special Birthday Boys. You two have been working so hard all day. Such a wonderful occasion deserves a present, doesn’t it? I better expect you to leave paper work for later, and hurry up to our bedroom. It gets rather chilly being all alone. I don’t want your present to get cold either. Not when I worked so hard to wrap it all up so nicely in purples and oranges. If you don’t want it, I’ll be more than happy to make use of it all myself. Sincerely yours~!

Never had they side alone aparated so fast in their life. Gave you quite the startle, to suddenly see them. You should have figured they wouldn’t waste time, but boy they move fast. Even after all these years together, it catches you by surprise. Though, this time they were the ones with wide eyes this time around.

There you were, in the middle of the bed, dressed to the nines. A array of orange, and purple, fabric against your skin. Stockings of lace. Done up so pretty to mimic that of a fire work, with little dots all around. The fingerless arm length gloves had to be, as to help bring focus to how bare the rest of you were. Nothing else to your skin, but your own birthday suit. Besides so heavy makeup, because you knew they loved it when it got all ruined. What really sold it was the bows all over you. Around your thighs, wrists, neck, just for the comical effect of a birthday present. Hey, it’s April Fools. Gotta get silly.

“H-“ Before you could get a single syllable out, they were on you. Like starving dogs. Clothes were flying, and your body was quick to be sandwiched between the two men. Your neck attacked in kisses, and their ever rough hands trailing your skin. Tracing all the invisible lines they had tracked on you.

“Guess you like the surprise-?” You joked, as you were leaning yourself against Fred. While George was enjoying your front. Sucking plenty of hickies on your skin, while Fred was enjoying playing with your nipples. Had you squeak, and flush, as he was enjoying the happily given toy.

“Taking that as a yes-“ You sighed, as you were just a meal for the wolves. Wolves that always had your flavor of flesh in mind. It just felt so good to be so desired. To be wanted so badly, it could hurt. Especially after such an exhausting day, they needed to get that pent up steam out.

“Been thinking about you all day long-“ George would sigh, as he stole your lips into his own. Happily allowing your lipstick to stain his own, while your hips rubbed onto the building hard on in Fred’s lap. Just a tangle of wild limbs, and you couldn’t have loved anything more.

“Come on, save some for me. Give em here-“ And you would be stolen by Fred next. Making sure he got his lips stained all the same. George didn’t complain, as he would let the lipstick residue trail over your exposured chest. Designing you, as Fred let his tongue do any talking he had left.

You enjoyed the sensual, and slow, pace. Made you fall into the mood far easier. But, you knew why they were being so gentle. Gentle starts always ended with you drooling and utterly delirious. They were going to destroy you, to your core, and that had you so hopeful.

“Just look at you.” They breathed, in unison, as you were just a doll in their hands. Your body leaning into Fred’s, with his legs spread to make sure you were comfortable. Meanwhile George was above you, on his knees, and taking in the sight. Just starving for you, while Fred was busy with the bedside table. Making sure to grab some lube, as you realized what you signed up for.

“Don’t say I never treat you.” That had them laugh, at your comment. Sweet little feathery kisses were given to your face, and neck, while the line was passed to each other. Slicking themselves up, before using the residue to make sure you were nice and comfortable. A thank you, for such a wonderful present.

“Wrapped up in such a pretty bow.” Fred sighed, as he stuck two fingers inside of you. That had you bite your lip, before the mimicking motion from George made it slip out. Fred was in your ass, and George was in your core. Able to copy each other’s movements in perfect unison. Some call it disturbing, you call it heaven.

“Damn, wet as hell. Don’t even need lube. We’re so excited to get to be our gift, weren’t you? Isn’t that sweet Fred-?” “Oh the ever sweetest George. We love it when you get excited. Gets us excited.” They echoed each other, while making sure to lather as much as they could. Knowing you would need it, and still remembering to put your needs first. Just gentle motions, as they made sure to cover as much as two fingers could. Teasing away at your sensitive spots, just to make you squirm.

“I can’t wait any more.” “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” And like that, the fingers were removed. You whined at it, which made them smirk. Now, you were feeling them pressed against you. They planned to go in, at the exact same time. It made your heart race. To imagine, being stuffed so quickly.

“How about we-“ But they broke through the tight barrier, and your mind was mush. Not so much from pain, just the over whelming sensation of being so full. To feel your insides grow so tight, as your muscles were being pulled yet pushed at the same time. Was a fluttery experience. Somehow so light, yet couldn’t be heavier.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You heard Fred whisper into your ear, while your blurry eyes could make out that George was hardly able to keep his own open. Biting into his stained lip, as to not whimper too early. To last, but damn. You knew he was fighting for his life.

Once they were both fully inside, the three of you just stayed that way. A mixture of wanting to make sure you were adjusted, and them not wanting to end the game so soon. How embarrassing that would be. Least that meant you were being pampered. With heavy breathing, and wet kisses on your skin. A means to help you relax, and it worked.

“Lucky me, I get to be the first one to pump you full. Isn’t that nice of Fred? To let me be the one to pump your little womb full?” That had your face burn. Yeah, you three were trying, but none of you exactly went into to much details on how such a thing would plan out. Given Magic was involved, with everything, isn’t a dumb guess to think these two will somehow knock you up at the same time. Just made you all the more flushed, as Fred would rub over your stomach.

“Don’t worry. When he’s done with you, we will switch. I can’t just waste it all in your ass. I love that cute thing, but I love you being full of out kids more.” Fred moaned, as he finally moved his hips. Just in time with George’s. The feeling of two at once, in different holes. Truly a fuzzy experience.

Your hands found George’s shoulders, while Fred grabbed your legs. Keeping you spread as wide as they could, as they rocked their hips into you. Such perfect calculations to make sure your mind stayed in that blissful fuzz. Was leaving you with your nails into Georges skin.

“Come on, love. You gotta moan louder for me. I’m missing an ear over here. Give me some noise-!” George cackled, as Fred took that as a que to pick up the pace. Your head was rolling itself back, and leaned on Fred’s shoulder. Giving George exactly what he wanted, after all. Louder moans, whimpers, gasps, and plenty of smacking flesh to fill in between.

“So cock drunk, and the night hardly started.” Fred teases, as he bit into your shoulder. Needing to steady himself, but the feeling was too much. George would have agreed, if it were vocal. They were getting sloppy with their movements, and you wouldn’t last long either. Especially since George was now planting sloppy kisses against your lips. Leaving you two a jumble mess of spit and moans.

Hearing their desperate breaths, and whimpers of trying to hold on, it was what brought you over the edge. By proxy, your tightening grip in your body had them gasp. Their hips stuttering, as they came inside of you. Throbbing, and having a shake in their system.

Riding it out was such a warm feeling. Felt like everything was on fire, in all the best ways. Already so exhausted, and ready to just sleep, but….They weren’t making any April fools joke with you. Just as your eyes closed, they moved.

You have a squeak, before a breathy moan, as they pulled out. Left such a mess between all your legs, before you were flipped around. Your hands now on Fred’s chest, and ass presented to George. Out right lining up again.

“Perk-A-Boo~!” Fred teases, as he poked your nose. Just as you wiggled it, they thrusted right back into you. The stimulation of being restuffed was mind melting. Right after your high, and with so much already running down your legs. The sounds of all made were so loud, and wet. Was utterly thrilling.

Fred was happy to drink in your moans, hogging as many kisses as he could. Meanwhile George was happily feeling over your hips. Letting those hard working hands trace the lipstick marks shared between them both.

“Don’t do poor Georgie like that, come on. You gotta moan a little louder. His hearing isn’t so good.” Fred would tease, as he forced your chin up. Trying to amplify your desperate sounds. It was all too much. You were going to reach your peak again, with tears running down your face. Smearing away the remains of your makeup.

“Just hang on a little more. I want to make sure I get nice and deep in there.” Fred comforted, as George planted kisses down your back. Making sure your skin was covered in whatever remained of their lips.

Everything was so blurry, but you knew this. You came again, and your insides were coated once more. The ringing in your ears were dancing with the shakey moans of your lovers. So happy, and satisfied, with wrecking you so much.

When you came back to reality, you realized the lingerie you wore was gone. Seems they made sure to give you a sponge bath, before they were knocked out. You between them, as they snuggled you.

Fred behind you, as he held your stomach. Ever a man that loved feeling your ass against him. Meanwhile George was infront of you, tangling your legs together, as he snuck his arms just above Fred’s. His face under your chin, so he could listen to your heart beat.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You whispered, as you made sure they both were kissed on their heads. Freckled smiles crossed their lips, as they snuggled closer. Fred, enjoying his nose in your neck, while George gave you a squeeze. Maybe you should gift wrap yourself more often.

[fluentmoviequoter]

April Fools In Love

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When Angela convinces you to prank Tim by pretending to leave him on April 1, you plan to get through the day quietly and then split your winnings with Tim. Then Wade assigns you and Tim to ride together, and the day is anything except quiet.

Warnings: discussion of bets (Angela and Nolan start it lol), angst, arguments, gunfire (no major character injuries), fluff

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You know it won’t end well. But when Angela and Nolan bet you $100 each that you wouldn’t do it, what were you supposed to do? Say no? Besides, if it works (and you’re terrified it will), you and Tim will have over $1,000 to split. You just have to break his heart first.

When Tim gets out of bed before the sun comes up, you’re already awake. It seems like forever as you lay in bed and wait for him to leave. But, while you’re alone in the house and preparing to pull off the biggest April Fool’s Day prank of your life, you miss him. Angela’s genius idea to prank Tim by pretending to leave him was never a good idea but as the betting pool grew in the Mid-Wilshire station, you let the money convince you. Your heart and Tim’s are on the line, and you can only hope he knows you well enough by now to see what you’re doing and play along.

Once all your belongings are hidden in the spare closet and every trace of you is gone from Tim’s house, you leave a note on Tim’s nightstand and leave. You intend on returning, as long as Tim will let you by the end of the day. It was Nolan and Lucy’s idea to send you to Lucy’s apartment at the end of shift, the proverbial “cherry on top” to convince Tim that your relationship is truly over. As you walk to your car, anxiety builds in you, and you consider backing out. It would cost money but save your sanity and your relationship. So, you only have one question: What would Tim do? The answer comes to you immediately: lie to the bet makers and win even if you lose. Now, you just have to figure out how.

Entering roll call is everything you expected it would be. There are countless eyes on you, and your lack of greeting is what Nolan needs to know you’re going through with it.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d do it,” he whispers from behind you. “No offense.”

“That is the least offensive thing you’ve ever said to me,” you answer quickly. “But just remember that you have to ride with me tomorrow, and anything that happens to me today is your fault.”

Nolan’s eyes widen before you turn in your seat. Breaking Tim’s heart will hurt, but yours is already fractured just from the idea. When Grey enters and gives assignments for the day, you hope that work will distract you for as long as possible. If Tim doesn’t find out until he gets off, you only have to lie to him and avoid him for a few hours before the day ends.

Wade says your name and the smile on his face concerns you. You take a deep breath before asking, “Yes, sir?”

“Bradford needs someone to ride with him today. Now, you can say no.”

You open your mouth to say no, but he raises a hand to stop you.

“Or,” Wade continues. “We can double the current pool if you say yes.”

“Double?” you repeat incredulously. “That’s-“

“Over three thousand dollars. At the moment.”

You stare at the board behind Wade before nodding. “Okay.”

The room erupts into cheers and yells, but you drop your head into your hands and ask yourself why you’re selling your heart for a few thousand dollars.

“Bradford’s waiting,” Wade says as the room silences again.

“I hate all of you,” you mumble as you exit.

“Yet you seem interested in our money!” Lucy calls behind you. “See you at home later!”

Tim is waiting by the war room, and he smiles when he sees you. You don’t return the smile, not because you’re mad at him, but because you’re worried about everything.

“Are you okay?” he asks as you approach him.

You nod, but Tim doesn’t move. “Can we go?” you ask.

Tim’s smile drops as he nods. You lead the way to the shop, and Tim’s eyes are on you the entire way. Once you’re in the car and all the cameras are on, you hope he’ll stop talking and leave everything alone, but you also know that won’t happen.

“Why are you out on patrol?” you ask.

“Looking for leads on a gun trafficking case. We’ve got a few buyers who either don’t know or won’t tell who’s running the operation,” Tim answers.

You hum and look out the windshield. The computer on the dashboard has a few possible suspects, and you keep an eye open for them. Los Angeles is big, so finding three low-level gun sellers (alleged gun sellers) won’t be particularly easy. The long day alone with Tim would be a reward any other day, but not today.

Lucy’s voice comes through the radio as she says your name. You reach for the channel to change it, but Tim’s brows furrow, and you stop.

“Are you sure about this?” Lucy asks. “I mean, of course, you’re welcome to stay with me, but maybe you should just talk to Tim.”

“About what?” Tim asks you.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly. It comes out short and harsh, and you decide to take your anger out on Lucy. “No personal lives on the radio, Chen,” you demand.

“I agree,” Wade adds. “But no one wants to see either of you hurt. You’re with Bradford all day, just talk to him.”

“I don’t have to because he can hear you,” you snap before switching the channel.

Tim drives a few blocks in silence. He glances over at you every time he has to stop.

“Are you going to ignore me all day?” Tim asks. “Because I can go back to the station and get someone else to come with me.”

“Your choice,” you reply.

“Okay,” Tim says. His hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “Are you staying with Lucy tonight?”

“I’m not talking about this right now, Sergeant Bradford. You are my superior and this doesn't seem appropriate,” you say.

Tim knows something is wrong; you won’t look at him, and your answers aren’t really answers. He pulls into an alley and switches off his body cam and the dash cam.

“Dispatch this is Bradford, switching radio off to approach the suspect. Will advise,” he radios.

“Copy, Bradford.”

Tim gestures toward your body cam, and you ask, “Why?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches across the console to pull the cam away from your chest. His hands are gentle on you, but he tosses the camera haphazardly onto the dash after switching it off.

“No cameras, no radios,” Tim says. “Now what is your problem?”

“Yeah, because I’m the one with a problem,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re supposed to be working, Tim. Drive.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re snapping at everyone. Being grumpy is kind of my thing.”

“Clearly,” you say with a chuckle.

“If you’re mad at me, just say it.”

“This is not the place or the time.”

“So, I’m just supposed to deal with this attitude all day?”

“I deal with yours.”

Tim rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat.

“I’m not staying with Lucy tonight. I’m staying with her until I can find my own place, so you don’t have to deal with my attitude for much longer.”

Tim’s jaw unclenches as he looks at you. You’re looking down at your lap, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“What does that mean?” Tim asks quietly. His anger is gone; it disappeared when you said you weren’t going home with him... to him.

“I can’t keep doing this, Tim.” I can’t keep lying to you, is what you mean.

“Then don’t.” You shake your head, and Tim presses, “Don’t do this. Whatever happened, we can work through it, right?”

“Not right now.”

Tim falls silent and tears his eyes away from you. He can’t decide whether to be upset or angry, but he turns all of the cameras back on and shifts the car into reverse to back out of the alley. You snatch your body cam from the dash and put it back on, but you miss the feeling of Tim’s hands.

“If not now, when?” Tim asks as he stops at a red light.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Report.”

Tim glances over at you quickly, and when you move your fingers toward the radio, he realizes you’re talking to him as a cop, not as someone who loves him.

“Dispatch, I’m code 4,” he says quickly.

As you continue driving around Los Angeles, the minutes stretch into hours. Tim has stopped talking to you, and the radio has been quiet. Your fingers bounce against your thigh in rapid succession, and if something doesn’t happen soon, you may burst into tears and tell Tim everything.

“Bradford,” Angela radios, “switch to a private channel.”

He does, but when he pulls the radio to him, his movements make you flinch. “What?” he asks, his grumpiness returned in full.

“Are you alone?”

“No.”

“Okay, good.”

You hold your breath as you wait to hear what Angela will say next.

“We got a hit on one of your perps. Was seen near a cigar store somewhere off La Brea.”

“That’s not helpful, Lopez,” Tim snaps. “Anything else you can give me?”

“The Debonair Cigar Lounge,” you inform. “It’s on La Brea and there’s tons of reports of illegal back door sales. Nothing we’ve ever been able to prove.”

Tim nods and drops the radio.

“You seem in high spirits,” Lopez adds. “Your captain is waiting for your report.”

“10-4,” you radio.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a waste of time at the cigar lounge, you and Tim follow several more tips. The sun is going down and Tim’s shift is nearly over by the time you catch one that seems helpful.

“Don’t you need to get back to the station?” you ask. “We don’t have time to track this and for you to report to your captain.”

Tim ignores you and pulls into another alley. Why does LA have so many dirty alleys? And why are they Tim’s preferred argument location?

“You said it earlier, I’m your superior. If you’re not going to answer my questions, I’m not going to accept your advice,” Tim explains.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you argue. “Me not wanting to talk about our relationship issues in the shop is not the same as reminding you that you have other duties.”

“Oh, now they’re relationship issues. That sounds like talking about them.”

You tip your head back against the seat and sigh. Something moves in the alley, and you lean forward to watch for it.

“Just tell me what is bothering you!” Tim says. You don’t answer, too interested in what is or isn’t moving in the shadows, but Tim takes it as you voluntarily ignoring him. “Fine, you don’t want to talk? I can wait.”

“Bradford, drive,” you say quickly. 

“No.”

“Tim!” you yell.

The worry in your voice causes Tim to look forward, and the man you’ve spent the day looking for is standing in the middle of the alley and pointing a gun at you.

“Get down,” Tim demands.

You lean toward him over the console as he jerks the gear shift down. Before he can move, the man starts shooting. Tim leans over you as he backs out of the alley. While he gets you to safety, you radio for backup. The car slides to a graceless stop as a bullet takes out the front tire on your side.

“I’m going to Lucy’s because I can’t stay with you tonight,” you admit.

Your voice is raised over the continued gunfire, but Tim’s face is pressed beside yours as he drapes his body over you. His protectiveness is one of many things that you love about him, and as you prepare to tell him the truth, you’re more grateful for it than ever.

“You’re leaving me?” Tim asks.

“Tim, what day is it?” you ask.

A bullet breaks your window, and Tim pulls himself tighter against you as he raises his gun toward the opening. The man is nearing you, and Tim waits for him to get close enough before rising up so he’s visible.

“April Fools,” Tim answers as he fires a single shot.

He leaves you alone in the shop as he runs to the downed gunman. The bullet hit his leg, far from fatal, and Tim cuffs him before putting pressure on the wound.

“I can’t believe you just broke up with me while we were being shot at,” Tim yells angrily.

He winks at you quickly, a nearly invisible movement. His jaw remains clenched, though, and you can’t tell if he’s mad at you or the man who tried to kill you.

“Bradford!” Angela yells as she exits her car. “What happened?”

Tim pushes the man toward another Metro officer and turns away from you.

“Plenty,” he answers before walking away. “Give her a ride.”

You lick your lips as you watch Tim leave with Metro. 

“You told him?” Angela asks. “How did that go?”

“He seems mad,” you answer.

“This may be better than expected. I’m taking you to Lucy’s.”

“But I need to-“

“Grey knows,” Angela interrupts. “Let’s go.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just sit down,” Lucy pleads. “Tim cares and he’ll talk to you eventually.”

“I told Tim that I was leaving him when all I wanted to do was tell him I love him,” you point out. “I’m not going to sit down.”

Lucy sighs and turns away. She had enjoyed the idea before this moment, but now that you and Tim are both understandably miserable, it isn’t as much fun.

“Incoming,” Tamara whispers dramatically as she opens the door.

“Where’s your stuff?” Tim demands as he steps inside.

“Not with me,” you answer honestly.

“Then let’s go.”

“Where?”

Tim fixes his eyes on yours. There’s a storm in them, and it’s a dangerous one. You decide not to fight him and instead walk toward him.

“Hey, you can talk here,” Lucy offers.

Tim doesn’t reply as he closes the door behind him. You walk wordlessly beside him as he takes you to his truck. Once you’re inside, he runs his fingers through his short hair before hitting his open palm against the steering wheel.

“I know you pointed out that it’s April Fool’s Day,” he begins. “But when I get home and all of your stuff is gone, it’s a little hard to believe it’s a joke.”

You glance at the clock and see that there’s still a little over an hour left until midnight. If you want the money, you can’t do anything until then.

“I put it somewhere,” you say quietly. “Until I knew for sure what I was going to do.”

“Are you going to give me a real answer?”

You look at the clock again, but this time Tim follows your movement. He sits back in his seat and turns on the radio.

“I’ll wait,” he offers.

“Why?” you ask. “After everything I did this morning?”

“Lots of words for it: love, stupidity, obsession. Take your pick.”

“April Fool’s Day was more fun last year,” you mutter.

Tim smiles as he remembers; you had tried to convince everyone in Mid-Wilshire that you and Tim hated one another and that any memory that had otherwise was a figment of their imagination. When you got home that night, Tim kept up the act until you threatened to take Kojo in the divorce, and then you got the attention you’d been missing all day.

As the clock inches closer to midnight, you lean back as well and simply sit beside Tim. Your phone rings and you sigh when you see Angela’s name.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“Outside Lucy’s apartment.”

“Is Tim still with you?”

“Why would Tim be with me?”

Tim shakes his head beside you, and you remember when he told you about the bet with Lucy when she tried to set him up and failed. You met the next day and then Tim won the bet, he had said.

“Are you planning to call him at midnight?” she asks.

“Yes! I have been lying to him all day, Angela, of course I’m going to call and tell him.”

Angela sighs, but it sounds funny.

“What?”

“He blew up on his Metro team. There’s a chance he may not be able to forgive you, or… won’t want to.”

You glance over at Tim, and he cocks his head at your furrowed brows.

“So, he’s really mad,” you repeat softly. “And my apologies won’t be good enough.”

“I don’t know that for sure!” Angela soothes.

What actually works to make you feel better is Tim’s hand taking yours. The clock changes, and you hang up. 12:00 am, April 2. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

The fear you’ve been pushing down all day appears as tears, and Tim cups your face to wipe them away.

“My stuff is in the guest room, but if you don’t want me to come back-“

Tim cuts you off with a kiss. He pulls you toward him as he leans over the console, but it’s uncomfortable, and he breaks the kiss quickly.

“Please tell me you won something for your success,” Tim says.

You smile and answer, “Nearly three and a half thousand dollars.”

Tim’s jaw drops as his hands drop to your shoulders.

“I was thinking we’d go see a Dodgers game, sit behind home plate. Or you can have it all since I did ruin your day.”

“Watching you get shot at ruined my day,” Tim corrects. “But as long as you go home with me, no harm, no foul.”

“I really am sorry. I do love you, and I’d never leave you like that.”

“I know,” Tim answers smugly. “I stopped by the house after you left, and Kojo led me straight to your stuff.

“You knew the whole time?!” you exclaim.

“I had an idea. Asked Grey to let me spend the day with you to see if I was right.”

“I felt terrible-“

“And you should have! Kojo and I will need lots of hugs and kisses to make up for the emotional distraught you put us through.”

You roll your eyes, and once you’re sandwiched between Tim and Kojo, they don’t seem to accept your apologies unless they’re punctuated with some type of physical affection. Tim also takes the opportunity to yell at everyone involved in the bet when he gets to work the following morning, but the promise of another night and a Dodgers game with you makes it worth it.

[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.”

[yukipri]

I finally got a beta for my fic!! May I introduce: Sabo!

For his first time editing, he deleted my entire chapter and instead wrote:

Wow, he can type with his ass. Skills.

April Fool's (but he really did type that)

Cats tag: #YukiPriASLKittens

[wooahaes]

on repeat

pairing: non-idol!dk x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 12/13

word count: ~7.0k

warnings: mentions of food. time loop au. some angst concerning not having a soulmate. also mentioned angst for other member (hao).

daisy’s notes: i feel like this one could have been longer but i didnt want it to get Too long compared to the other fics, yknow?

summary: What started as a day of making deliveries ended in Seokmin waking up on the same day. And then again, and then again… So, wherever you are, he needs to find you if he wants to see Saturday again.

Seokmin had been living his life on schedule ever since he turned ten. Before that, truly, because his parents had always set something for him (school, play, dinner, bath time, bedtime), but he knew that it became a little different after he turned ten. He had doctors appointments configured into that schedule, and every appointment had his dad holding his hand as the doctor tried yet again to work out what Seokmin's sign could be. Some of them would always be subtle and hard to detect, but there were plenty of things they could figure out.

And then when that list was exhausted, the afternoon doctor's appointments turned into Wednesday afternoon appointments with Dr. Jeon. She'd spoken to Seokmin for their first appointment with his mother sitting next to him, gauging how he truly felt about the fact he might not have a soulmate. He didn't tell her at first that it hurt to be different. Not with his mother next to him, rubbing soothing circles onto his back. He needed to smile for his mom, to be the bubbly boy she knew and loved.

Wednesday afternoon, Seokmin went back alone starting with that second visit. "My classmates made fun of me again for not having a soulmate."

Dr. Jeon had adjusted her bright pink glasses, and frowned at him. "How do you feel about that?"

That they're right, so it shouldn't hurt to hear the truth. "Bad." He'd curled into himself a little more, tugging his jacket closer to himself. Maybe he could disappear if he tried. "I can't help it."

Dr. Jeon's room was lit only by lamps and whatever light made it through the blinds and curtains. She hated the overhead lights (they buzzed loudly and she could never hear herself think, she said), and Seokmin never minded that they were off. The orange glow made things feel oddly safer. So did the fake sunflowers on her desk, tucked away behind her behemoth of a computer (Dr. Jeon said she could never keep them alive if they were real). As much as he wanted to disappear, he felt safe here. Dr. Jeon wasn't his mom. He didn't have to pretend for Dr. Jeon.

"I wish I had a soulmate," his voice was quieter that time. "Some of my classmates think something's wrong with me. That..."

She looked up from where she's been jotting something down. "That?" She prodded in that inquisitive way she did last time they spoke alone for a few minutes, and Seokmin knew he couldn't drop it without feeling guilty. "It's okay, Seokmin. You can take all the time you need."

He didn't meet her gaze. "They think that I'm never gonna be loved."

Dr. Jeon frowned again at his words. "Do your parents love you?"

His head shot up. "Yes! Of course they love me!"

"Do your friends?"

He nodded furiously. "And—And I love my friends. But what does that have to do with my soulmate?"

Dr. Jeon shook her head. "Love comes in many forms, Seokmin. A soulmate's love isn't guaranteed to be romantic, but even if it was, you aren't guaranteed to be with your soulmate. Love takes effort. My husband is a relationship counselor," she twisted her wedding ring around her finger, "and he sees plenty of couples who assume being soulmates is the only thing they need to make it work."

"But..." He furrowed his brow. "I thought soulmates were forever."

"They can be." Dr. Jeon paused. "You're so young, Seokmin, but you'll understand one day. A soulmate represents the possibility of that love, not the only existence of it." She chuckled. "Besides... You're too young to worry about romantic love. But for now, we can work on acceptance."

Acceptance...?

"Whether you have a soulmate or not, Seokmin," she said, the big beads of her earrings clinking together as she set aside her pad of notes, "you're still a person capable of loving others and being loved. It's hard for kids your age to separate out love like this, but you'll realize it as you grow up. There is nothing wrong with not having a soulmate."

Seokmin hadn't been able to accept her words for a while. Every day, he saw something new in the world about soulmates. A new drama based around them, or a new discount to those who can prove they're with their soulmate, or a new magazine with childish quizzes that pretend to predict your soulmate's traits. Every Wednesday, he found himself back on that plush couch and talking about something new. A new thing he's eliminated. Another classmate discovered their sign. News of an intern at his dad's work that found his soulmate (this one Seokmin wasn't supposed to hear). And every week, he left Dr. Jeon's sessions with those words said at the end:

There was nothing wrong with not having a soulmate... So why did Seokmin want one so badly?

Seokmin grew up. He started college, and he met Minghao through it. Eventually his routine changed as he began to balance work and school and a social life, all while living in a cozy little apartment with Minghao. Make breakfast, go to class, go to work, find time to shove food into his face, deal with more customers... It became a schedule he pretty much lived by with his social life a little less present. He'd get it back one day, hopefully. But he always made time for dinner with Minghao on Friday nights: their one day a week where they’ve completely slowed down together.

Minghao seemed more tired this week. "I'm tired of blue."

Seokmin looked up from his dinner. "Which blue?"

"Calm blue. Not sad. They're fine, wherever they are, and I should be glad for it, but I'm not." Minghao scowled.

Seokmin frowned as he watched Minghao. Their vision is filled with red now, he wanted to say. Are you okay with that? But he didn't, instead reaching out to ruffle his hair. "It'll be okay," he said. "At least they're calm now."

Minghao said nothing. He just sat there, staring, brows drawing together more and more.

"What?"

"It's darker."

His soulmate was upset by something. Seokmin averted his gaze. He kept his thoughts to himself. No doubt Minghao already had them himself: his frustration upset his soulmate. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the kind of person Minghao's soulmate was: someone who empathized even though they had no idea where their own soulmate's feelings were coming from. No doubt their vision would be clouded by those same blues. Minghao could be sharp-tongued and snarky at times, but he wasn't a monster. He worried for them whenever his vision was lit up with fiery reds and deep blues and nauseating green.

"I used to be angry, too, you know." Seokmin kept his focus on his own dinner now. "That I don't have one."

"You know I don't believe that." Minghao had always been one of the ones who, for some reason, believed Seokmin did have a soulmate. His sign just wasn't one of the obvious ones like his or Seungkwan's. But Minghao was reasonable about it, too: Seokmin was the kind of person who could forge his own soulmate if things felt right enough.

Seokmin waved it off. "But I understand being angry. It's something outside of your control, and it's hard to let that... be."

Humans, in Seokmin's experience, liked having control over themselves. He saw it in himself as a child, always wanting to have some choice in what he wore, in the foods he ate. He saw it now, too, in children when he went shopping and saw patient mothers holding up two options for their child to pick from. But he always saw it the most with his friends. The frustration that etched itself into Minghao's brows whenever the colors changed, the subtle annoyance before his thanks when someone pushed Seungcheol toward the right object, the way Seungkwan would flinch from pain sometime and wave off any concern. All things that stemmed from depending entirely upon another person in one way or another. And Seokmin felt it, too, in not having. A soulmate was never a guarantee to have love in your life, after all. Yet Seokmin didn't get to choose whether he would want this person at all. Would he? If he had a soulmate, would he fall for them? He had plenty of love in his heart to give... but would they even want it from him, too?

"You're right," Minghao's voice was softer now. "I think... I want to meet them someday."

Seokmin smiled. "I think you should."

“I’m scared they’ll hate me.” Minghao let out a sigh, staring down at his food for a moment. “So what if they do?”

“Then you’ll figure it out.” Seokmin reached across the table, squeezing Minghao’s hand gently. “If they’re your soulmate… Then they’ll try to understand you. You’ll do the same, right?”

Minghao met his gaze, but said nothing. Today wasn’t a day that he could agree with Seokmin, already too inside his own head. In time, he’d accept it: Seokmin knew he would. He just needed time, and Seokmin was more than happy to give him that and whatever space he needed. He could believe in Minghao’s soulmate enough for the both of them. 

And the day he met them face to face, Seokmin knew he’d been right: Minghao’s soulmate was patient in the way he needed them to be. Understanding, too, without any hidden malice toward him. Exactly what Minghao needed.

There was a text from Seungcheol in the group chat: dinner at jun's? i'm paying :)

Not everyone was able to make it, of course. It was horribly last minute, but Seokmin figured it had to be important since it was. A few people had their reasons to not be there (work, other things that needed doing). Seokmin, on the other hand, was free from his usual job. All he had was the option to make some deliveries for extra money, and he'd probably spend the day doing that to get some exercise in. He rolled out of bed, got ready for the day, and stepped out of his bedroom to see where Minghao was asleep on the couch. Seokmin paused, brows drawing together until he saw that he was clutching his phone still. Ah. He must have come back late last night and fell asleep while on the phone with his soulmate as they made their way home. Seokmin left him with a blanket draped over him before he headed out for the day. Maybe next time, Minghao would end up asleep in his own room.

He checked the app while waiting for the elevator. Sure enough, there were already delivery orders made. Groceries (he only ever accepted the small orders), food deliveries, flowers... Seokmin scrolled through for the closest pickup to start. He wouldn't mind the long ride to wherever he was delivering to, but there was a flower shop just down the street that Seokmin always loved making deliveries for. Flowers made people happy, after all. One popped up from someone named Minho for someone named Jinki ("a 'thank you' gift for my hyung"), and Seokmin accepted it without another thought. Soon enough he'd taken the elevator down and set out for the day, pedaling his way to the flower shop.

Jinki had been caught off-guard when Seokmin showed up to his workplace with a vase of sunflowers he'd protected with his life. He passed the message onto the man, and made his way out for the next delivery, bumping into an intern on his way out. He'd apologized to her quickly, and started out for another delivery. A grocery delivery for a single dad who was taking care of a sick kid, another run to a store for cat food for a man who'd run low and couldn't leave his apartment easily with a broken leg, a lunch delivery for a young woman at work... Seokmin went about his day like any other, always greeting people with a smile before moving onto the next thing. By the end of the day, he was exhausted, and immediately went to Jun's restaurant to rest.

Jun wordlessly set a cup of water in front of him. "Push these tables together after you wipe them down," he said. "Cheol will be here soon."

Seokmin had waved him off after agreeing, just enjoying a few minutes of downtime. It wasn't even his job—Where the hell was Mingyu?—but Seungcheol had insisted that it was important. He didn't mind helping out if it made things move a little smoother. He made his way to the back to grab the things he needed, and put himself back to work. The tables were wiped down thoroughly, and Seokmin pushed them together before straightening up. The next time the door chimed, Seungcheol had come in with the brightest smile on his face that Seokmin had ever seen.

"What happened?" He asked, pushing a final chair into place. "Minghao texted to say his soulmate had something come up. I'll let him know the good news tonight, okay?"

Seungcheol made his way over, shedding the light jacket he was wearing. "I should wait until the others get here, but..." He paused, and then shook his head. "No—I'll wait. It's important."

Seokmin stood still for a moment, mind already thrumming with possibilities. "It is good news... Right?"

He nodded. "It's..." His gaze softened a little as his smile fell a little. His happiness was still warm and welcoming, but now felt akin to the tenderness of a warm embrace than the crackling fire it had been before. "It's really good news, Seokmin."

The possibilities dwindled by tens and hundreds. No bad news... Which meant this had to be big. A promotion, or maybe he finally heard back from the graduate program he was trying to get into? Seokmin drummed his fingers along the chair he'd been clutching, before tearing him away from it. People began to file in over the next twenty minutes: Jeonghan and Joshua arriving together, Mingyu bursting into the room loudly (yes, Jun, he saw the restaurant was empty—and yes, he enjoyed resting after work) with Soonyoung coming in just a few minutes later, and eventually Vernon and Chan had joined the table while bemoaning a late bus. Mingyu helped Jun serve food as they caught up on life.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan called out from the other end of the table, a knowing look on his face. “You wanted to tell them something.”

Seungcheol fought back a smile. “I found them.” 

Immediately, the room went silent. Vernon was staring at him with wide-eyes, mouth agape. Jeonghan was just smiling, clearly having been informed ahead of time—and the same could be said of Joshua, who had this shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well?” Seungcheol pouted. “You aren’t going to say anything?”

“That’s great!” Seokmin decided to say quickly, and he saw the way Seungcheol then smiled. “Do you want us to keep it a secret, or can I tell Minghao?”

“You can tell him,” Seungcheol waved him off. “I just wanted to tell the rest of you. I told Seungkwan—” He then paused, “Speaking of—All of you are terrible!” He scowled a little. “I told him first and he immediately started sending me pictures of myself in ugly outfits you all swore went together!”

Jeonghan snorted, typing something out on his phone. “We didn’t do it all the time, you know.”

Seokmin chuckled, glancing over to where Jun had settled in the chair next to him. “Remember the shirt he wore to this place’s opening?”

Seungcheol let out another whine. “I didn’t know it was neon! Joshua said it wasn’t that bad!”

“It wasn’t!” 

If looks could kill, Joshua would be ash. But Seungcheol had started bickering with him about it (apparently that shirt had been a gift from Joshua… on April fools…), and Seokmin took his chance to steal another dumpling. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it to see it was the app he delivered for—there was someone for a restaurant not that far away. He dismissed it. He could use the money, sure, but… He’d stay at least a little longer. Just to see Seungcheol happy.

Fed up with his debate with Joshua (an immovable object against Seungcheol’s unstoppable force), Seungcheol let the topic go for now. “We’re going out on Tuesday, actually,” he said. “I think you guys will like them. We ended up shopping together for a while and talking—they’re really nice, and…”

Seokmin let his mind drift for a moment as he listened, his own heart sinking in his chest. Everyone seemed to be finding their soulmate over this past year. He looked at Jun for a moment. That meant he was the only one who hadn’t found his soulmate yet, right? He couldn’t imagine being the last person, but Jun seemed to be taking it well. Soonyoung, just as Seokmin did, went out on the occasional date—hell, both of them had dated a bit recently before deciding to prioritize other things for a bit. But it was weird knowing that he was going to be on his own now. Even Vernon and Jihoon ended up having soulmates. Seokmin had wanted to hold out hope that maybe that meant he had one, too, but…

The door opened, and in walked someone who looked at the group with wide-eyes. “Sorry—I thought this was still open—”

“It is!” Jun said, getting up and making his way toward the counter. “Sorry, how can I help you?”

The customer had started rambling about their friend, Minho, having been here a few days ago. Seokmin listened as they explained their own soulmate sign—the same as Jun’s—and he felt his feelings swirl inside of him. The computer chirped, and Seokmin moved to see that it was a takeout request. With permission from Jun, Seokmin accepted it and immediately went to snag the delivery request himself. He’d be back before the hour was over, and it’d give him some time to clear his mind. The customer had gone to an empty table, and Jun disappeared into the back to start cooking both their food and the order that Seokmin left hanging on the line.

“Hey.” Vernon had made his way over to the counter, voice lower, “Everything okay?”

Seokmin nodded, quietly sliding a fortune cookie across the counter. “I’m going to make a delivery,” he said. “Just to get some air.”

Vernon slowly nodded, immediately getting it. He’d stepped out when his own struggles were getting to him before he found his own soulmate, after all. “Gotcha. Is it a good tip?”

Seokmin glanced at the screen. Not really, but he didn’t mind: it was a small order and he wasn’t going far. It was better than no tip, at least. “Yeah,” he lied. “I could use the extra money.”

Vernon knew he was lying. But he nodded again, tucking the cookie into his hoodie pocket. “Travel safe, dude.”

All too quickly, Jun had plated the food. Mingyu had dipped into the back, delivering the dishes to the customer that sat alone, and Jun sat next to Seokmin. He’d uncapped a sharpie with his teeth, drawing a little cat onto the corner of the plate alongside a flower. Above it, he’d written some message of encouragement—all a part of the order’s request. 

“Someone else could pick up the order,” Jun capped the marker again. “If you don’t want to go.” 

Seokmin shrugged it off. “It isn’t far.” He paused, “Plus my bike is outside. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Jun hadn’t responded, brows drawing together. He looked over to the customer in the room, watching as they ate for a moment.

“Jun?”

He took a step away, realization spreading over his features. “Sorry, I just—” He walked away, quietly greeting the customer. Seokmin watched as he rounded the other chair, hands curling around the top of it as he said something… and soon Seokmin knew. 

So he packed away the meal, tying the bag, and confirmed that the order was on its way. He’d congratulate Jun later on finding his soulmate. But now, he just needed to get out before the heat and smell of spice suffocated him. He grabbed his bike, unlocked it, and took off toward the towering building not that far into the city. It was all too easy to get into the building and get pointed toward the right floor. Normally, he’d leave it here, but he decided to waste a few minutes heading upstairs.

A young man had greeted him, breaking away from where his coworkers were gathered around pizza. One of them had already heckled him for being the one person to order something out, but it all seemed to be in good faith. The guy—Soobin, according to the app—had thanked him, quickly enough. Someone bumped into Seokmin as he was waiting for Soobin to hand him a cash tip (something he’d insisted upon), and Seokmin felt his heart leap. Maybe he’d text Jun and apologize and head home instead. Things were… off. 

Jun didn’t hold it against him when he did. All he did was wish him a good night, and Seokmin was thankful for it. 

There was a text from Seungcheol in the group chat: dinner at jun's? i'm paying :)

Which was odd. Seungcheol had already treated them out last night, so why invite them out again? What was he going to announce—a marriage proposal? Seokmin was still half asleep as he pushed himself out of bed. He'd agree to be there after he ate breakfast. He skipped it yesterday and soon regretted it. Yet the moment he stepped out of his bedroom, he saw Minghao asleep on the couch again. He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way over.

"Minghao, your bed is more comfortable," he nudged him awake. "Two nights in a row? Really?"

Minghao had furrowed his brow upon waking up, staring up at him. "Two...? What are you talking about?"

Seokmin walked away, stretching as he went. "Didn't you fall asleep here the other night?"

With a confused look, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He stretched before reaching for his phone, looking down to see the new message on it. "What does Cheol want...? It's short notice and he knows it."

Seokmin looked up, already growing more confused. "He found his soulmate. Don't you remember? I told you when I got back last night."

"You were asleep when I got in." Minghao frowned at him. "When did he tell you?"

"Last night when we..." He trailed off, looking at his phone more clearly now. It was Friday, but yesterday had been Friday. He knew it, because he'd lived it. "We had dinner with a couple of the others, and..."

Minghao folded his jacket over his arms, and it was now that Seokmin realized this had been what he'd seen Minghao wearing on Thursday night. "You must be psychic or something," he made his way toward his room. "Don't ruin the surprise. Cheol will never let you hear the end of it if you do."

Yesterday was Friday. Seokmin knew that yesterday was Friday. So why the hell was it Friday again? Maybe he'd dreamed the entire thing. Was that a sign? He'd look into it later. Food and work would come first. He'd start looking into it when he showed up to Jun's restaurant tonight.

Sure enough, every single order he'd filled yesterday was right there today. Seokmin accepted those, too: maybe his dream meant something.

Sure enough, the night played out the same. Seungcheol announced having a soulmate. The others teased him over the past outfits he’d worn. Joshua poked fun at a neon shirt. Jun’s soulmate came into the restaurant. And Seokmin accepted that same takeout order. This time he had almost avoided the person coming in, and he’d given them a strange look when they turned back to acknowledge him this time. Again, they apologized to him after a moment before going on, checking their phone.

And then he went to sleep, and, again, it was Friday.

Around the fifth Friday he lived through, Seokmin realized a few things. He’d already figured out that he both met his soulmate and missed them (he Googled a lot that third Friday), and that he just needed to find them to break the loop. Every single day, he tried to fill the same delivery orders. He tried to go to the same places at the same time. He met the same people most of the time—he’d already missed that final order twice now, snatched up by someone else while he was trying to figure out what was wrong. 

But that was… beyond several Fridays ago. This was Friday number fifteen, and he’d managed to exact a few things. Minghao had given him something to say to prove that, yes, Seokmin was trapped in a time loop (details of his date the night before, followed by a quick enough explanation that Minghao knew wasn’t bullshit by the panic in his voice), and it’d given him an ally in every repeat day. He’d slipped up and spoiled Seungcheol’s surprise during one of the loops and given up on finding his soulmate that time. It didn’t feel fair to potentially let that be the day. 

Minghao filled a cup with ice and water. “You’re not trying to make the day perfect though, right? Because you’re going to just prolong it if you do.”

“I’m not.” Seokmin had stretched out across their couch, arms resting over his stomach. He didn’t have to leave for another few minutes. “I just didn’t want to find them after I ruined Seungcheol’s surprise.”

“He doesn’t remember now, though,” he shrugged. “Try to find them soon, though. You seem tired.”

“I am.” 

Minghao came over to him, extending the glass to him. “Then get out there and keep looking.”

“I have to stick to the schedule, though,” Seokmin accepted the glass as he sat up. “Otherwise I’ll keep missing them.” 

“Remember what we all said?” Minghao crossed his arms. “You’ll know them when you see them.”

Seokmin moved over, giving Minghao space to sit next to him. “I don’t know what that means.”

“When I saw my soulmate, I…” He pressed his lips together, looking toward the windows for a moment. “I felt like I was at peace.” Again, he paused, thinking over his words. “Like… I was ready to try to love them. To learn more about them and see why they were my soulmate.” 

That night, Seokmin posed the question of how they all knew while sitting at dinner with the others. He mouthed an apology to Soonyoung for asking a question neither of them (to his knowledge) would ever understand, but he didn’t seem all too bothered by it. The group had gone quiet, all thinking about their individual answers. And as Seokmin expected, Seungcheol had his the soonest.

“I didn’t feel anything special until I caught them,” he admitted, looking at Seokmin. “But when I did… It felt like everything was right. Like… Everything had been leading to that moment. I was where I needed to be, I think. As much as I wanted to meet them sooner, I think we found each other at the right time.”

Jeonghan nodded along to it, a soft hum sounding from him as he agreed with every sentence. “Right. I know I’m different because I’ve always known mine, but… I felt like I’d found the missing piece in my life. I know that’s sappy to say,” he laughed softly, “but it’s true. I’ve loved them this long, you know?”

Vernon had pressed his lips together. And a moment later, he nodded, too. “Right. I’d liked them for a while, but I think realizing that our sign had been right there the entire time… It all just made sense—”

“You literally made out with them immediately, don’t act all sentimental,” Chan rolled his eyes. “But… I felt this pull when I met them. Their friend had caught me, but it still felt like something was pulling me toward them.”

“Right, right…” Mingyu nodded along to that. “It felt like things were right in this way I can’t describe.”

Joshua hummed to himself, the sole person without an answer yet. He raked his fingers through his hair before meeting Seokmin’s gaze. “Maybe I’m just weird, but I didn’t really have anything like that. Like… I knew I was about to meet them since we’d agreed to meet up at a coffee shop, but the most I felt was this comfortable warmth. Like, we’d grown up sharing this experience together. It just felt like I met someone who understood me in some way.”

Seokmin noted down everything in his mind. A feeling of things being right, or a pull toward someone, or even that he’d found something he’d always been missing (although maybe without realizing it, if it were to apply to him). 

Yet he went to bed that night, woke up to another Friday, and wondered if he had broken something along the way.

Online forums helped plenty. He made and remade an account and the same post since around Friday number eight, always getting the same people chiming in and believing in him. You’ll find them soon! He’d always say how many Fridays he’d repeated, and yet there was always the same encouragement. Today was Friday number seventeen. Every single day, Seokmin woke up to the same situation. A new account, a new post. Seungcheol’s text. The same deliveries, the same thanks. The same breaks for lunch, including texting Mingyu about meeting up for coffee sometime (he hadn’t made it yet, but he was determined to). The people on the forums had told him the same thing his friends did: he would know his soulmate when he saw them.

So why was he so antsy today?

He’d shown up to Jun’s restaurant at the same time, wiping down the tables in record speed before relaxing with his cup of ice water. He listened to the clamor of pans in the back as Jun cooked for another table, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed. Friday number seventeen, and he wasn’t getting any closer, was he? Over two weeks and he’d found little ways to break up the monotony when he could. No one he delivered to was his soulmate. No one in that Jinki guy’s office had faced a repeat day (he’d done the stupid thing and stood up during day twelve and asked out loud, and he was thankful no one would remember it by midnight). No one in any of the stores he went to, either (again, day fourteen he did the same as he did with Jinki’s work). And he’d delivered to Soobin faster than ever before, only to receive no answer when he asked yesterday. 

So where was his soulmate?

Seungcheol arrived soon enough, smiling as brightly as ever. The others filed in over time, too. Jeonghan and Joshua arrived together once more, always talking about some movie they were still debating about the real meaning of. Mingyu made a big deal stretching and bragging about his short break at home with his soulmate—he’d bring the back takeout afterward. Soonyoung burst into the restaurant soon enough, always talking about how he was tired of his office being short on staff. Then Vernon and Chan, bemoaning their late bus as always, joined the table soon enough. Seokmin had known the following conversation by heart: Seungcheol announcing that he found his soulmate, followed by him pouting when no one immediately said anything. Seokmin always found himself being the first to congratulate him, saying he’d pass word along to Minghao if he wanted. Seungkwan sent Seungcheol all of the ugly outfits they’d lovingly tricked him into wearing over the years (never for serious events—always for a stupid get-together with the full group). The neon shirt. Jun’s soulmate would be there soon. They always came in at the exact same time…

Jun reached out, fingers brushing against Seokmin’s bicep and tearing his eyes away from his watch. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft enough to not alert the others, and Seokmin barely paid him any mind at first.

“Just waiting for something.” He paused, then realized that he was the only person present who knew of his situation. He looked up, shaking his head as he turned to Jun. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m fine. Just…” He glanced at the door for a moment. Any moment now. “Waiting.”

Seungcheol spoke up again about his soulmate, and Seokmin was thankful for the change in topic. He’d explain it all in due time. Hopefully today would give him another do-over and he wouldn’t worry Jun. Soon enough, the door jingled, and Seokmin rose up out of his chair. Jun’s soulmate was here, which meant the order from Soobin would be coming in soon. He’d made his way over to the computer, tapping at the edge of it as he waited impatiently. Soon. Soon. Jun had stood up, excusing himself from the group to unknowingly speak to his soulmate.

“Sorry,” Jun’s soulmate had said to him, and he slid them a menu without much thought. “My friend, Minho, came here with a couple of friends…”

Seconds passed with each tap of Seokmin’s finger. Soobin’s order. Always steamed pork buns and fried rice and some sort of beef or pork (the only thing that might change—the tiniest change that didn’t affect anything). He pressed his lips tighter together. Tomorrow, he’d start from the top. He’d ask everyone. He’d tell everyone that he was stuck in a time loop. Minghao would help him convince them all. If they knew that Seokmin was looking for his soulmate, they would help. 

The computer chimed. Seokmin tapped the order, reading over it. Steamed pork buns. Fried rice. Beef. And…

And more?

He hesitated to accept it, glancing over to Jun and his soulmate.  “Jun. There’s a request for takeout.” He paused for just a second, “I’m gonna confirm it, alright?”

Jun waved him on, and Seokmin felt his heart hammering in his chest as the ticket printed out. He made his way to the kitchen, clipping it to the line for Jun to refer to. This had to be a sign. You were there. You had to be there, right? No one ever changed their order like this. His brows knit together. Had he done something to set off some sort of butterfly effect? Was he just giving himself false hope now? He wanted out of this loop, soulmate or no soulmate. He’d lived this Friday seventeen times now, and all he wanted was to wake up on Saturday morning and go get coffee with Mingyu because Mingyu was offering. Mingyu would pay for a slice of cake or whatever dessert he wanted, too. And at this point, Seokmin had earned the same thing.

“Is everything okay?” Jun had approached him, keeping his voice low—again, mindful of what little privacy they had with so many of their friends present. “You seem… different.”

He shook his head. No need to worry him yet. “The ticket’s on the line,” he couldn’t stop staring at the screen now. An extra order. For what? For who? Jun hadn’t budged. Seokmin decided to lie: “Just… thought I recognized the name.”

Thankfully, Jun shrugged it off. Mingyu had made his way to the kitchens to help, and Seokmin held himself together. He would not get his hopes up. Not too high. This could be it, or it could be some sort of butterfly effect. He took a different way to the store earlier, after all. Wasn’t that what the whole thing was based around? Small actions having bigger impacts? Wonwoo would know. He was smart, he’d probably read about it. Maybe he’d ask Wonwoo about it on Friday number eighteen, if he woke up on Friday again. 

The food was made and plated before Seokmin knew, and he watched as Jun uncapped a sharpie with his teeth. He’d drawn a little cat onto the corner of one of the lids—the unfamiliar order, Seokmin realized—and then drew a little flower next to it. He’d always done it for Soobin’s order. Would that change things, too…?

“Someone else could pick up the order,” Jun said as he re-capped the marker. “If you don’t want to go.”

“No!” Seokmin paused. When did he get so desperate? He waved a hand, trying to act casual again. “I mean—The money is good, and my bike is outside.” Please don’t push. “I’ll try to be back to help clean up.” But if this is it, I won’t. I can’t. Please understand. Seokmin tied the bag tight after throwing in a few sets of utensils and more than enough fortune cookies. He picked up the bag, stopping to turn back to Jun. 

His soulmate was right there, and Jun hadn’t realized it yet. Maybe…

“Jun?”

Jun looked up from where he’d begun to tidy up behind the counter, that same earnest look on his face. Seokmin always wondered what he looked like when he realized that person was his soulmate. Even when he missed being able to deliver Soobin’s order, he tried to go out, to retrace his steps and hopefully run into his soulmate. Then again… Would telling him throw things off even further? Or would Jun even want for him to tell him? 

Seokmin opened his mouth, then closed it a moment later. He turned, looking at Jun’s soulmate. They were sitting alone, about to break into their meal. Jun would know soon enough. And… if it were him, Seokmin wouldn’t want to have the moment given to him like this. He turned back to Jun one last time. “Actually… Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back later.”

He could see the concern on Jun’s face, clear as day. No doubt he would be calling him come morning. Seokmin made his way out of the restaurant, waving to the others and saying he’d try to be back as soon as he could. Soon enough, he’d unlocked the bike lock and tucked it into his bag, strapping on his helmet. He’d biked this path so many times he knew it by heart, no need to keep track of his location through his phone’s map. He left his bike near the doors in the lobby, the way he always did when the secretary let him into the building. The elevator ride felt shorter than normal, and Seokmin found himself hesitating. He could hear Soobin and his coworkers talking in the other room. 

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and made his way forward. Soobin lit up when he saw him. Again, he was heckled by another coworker for ordering something else, and Soobin waved them off.

“I’m not the only one,” he’d said this time. “They’re—” He paused, looking around, only to roll his eyes. “They’re in the bathroom still—”

“I’m here!”

Your shoulder bumped against Seokmin as you rushed in, and Seokmin felt his heart leap. It was you. You’d bumped into him that first day while Soobin was giving him the cash tip he’d insisted on. And now you were pulling out your own wallet, insisting on covering a cash tip since Soobin hadn’t tipped enough on the app. You’d been rambling about how today you felt like something other than pizza, and…

“It’s you.” 

You looked up, blinking as you stared at Seokmin. “Me…?” And then it clicked, those pretty eyes lighting up with realization. “You—” You had gasped, eyes already growing teary. “You’re—”

Seokmin could kiss you now, relief flooding every single cell in his body. He’d dropped the bag onto Soobin’s desk, ignoring the way the guy dove to make sure nothing spilled, and stepped forward. You had immediately wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight. Something felt right about it all, like his life had come together in a way he never knew it could have. The rest of your coworkers had gone quiet, and Seokmin had let himself cry a little. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, voice wavering. He held you tighter, “I—I almost thought I wouldn’t find you.”

You said nothing and just let yourself cry out of relief. 

When you finally pulled away, it was to tell your coworkers that you needed to leave soon. You knew just as well as he did that the two of you needed to be together when midnight struck, and you weren’t going to work through the entire night. Not with Seokmin right there with you. It seemed to renew the energy in your team as all of you got to work. You pulled a chair over for Seokmin to sit near you while he waited, and he took the chance to text a few things out:

To Minghao: I’ll see you saturday

To Jun: I’ll explain tomorrow :) don’t worry about me. I’m okay now.

And to Seungcheol: I found them. 

You had paused for a moment, looking at Seokmin curiously. After a moment, you caught yourself staring, and grew flustered. “Sorry. Just… What do you want to do? We've got some time to kill until midnight, so...”

Seokmin had been living his life adhering to routine. From childhood to adulthood to the past seventeen Fridays, everything had a time and place for him to be. So he just smiled at you, rolling his chair a little closer to you: “Whatever you want to do.” He paused, deciding to go all in on being cheesy. “Let’s follow our hearts this time, okay?”

And you, who had found routine over and over in your own life, smiled and made living on repeat worth it with that smile.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[spacedlexi]

opens my hand and shows you this little vi

[casinocarpediem]

Wouldn't it be funny if I made an April Fools fic about the two of them (pictures from @quakilynn on tiktok)

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Spring

@jegulus-microfic April 1, Word count 542

The first of April was the Marauder’s favourite day of the year. They spent weeks coming up with pranks for April Fool’s Day. They not only pranked their fellow students, but they pranked each other. 

James had placed a sticking charm on a little toy rat that he’d stolen from Lily’s cat to follow Peter wherever he went. 

All the mirrors that Sirius looked into burped rudely at him, and he’d transfigured all of Remus’s books into copies of Cassandra Vablatsky’s Unfogging the Future. James knew better than to mess with Moony’s chocolate supply, which meant his books were the next option on the list. 

So far, though, the only one not to be pranked was James. Lunch passed, and nothing, not even a nose-biting teacup. He was feeling more and more on edge. He kept flinching whenever one of the others came near him. Sirius took great joy in this and found a multitude of reasons to lean over or brush past him. 

They were walking out of potions together at the end of the day when he was suddenly yanked backwards into an empty classroom. 

“Hey, what the hell?” James yelled before he realised it was his friends. “Oh, what the hell?!” He knew this was it. Instead of them all pranking him separately, they were working together.

“Petrificus Totalus” Sirius flicked his wand, James’s legs snapped together, and his arms stuck to his sides. He was completely frozen in place.  

Peter transfigured James’s robes into a clown costume. 

Sirius performed a much tricker spell. Using the effects of the petrifying jinx, he transformed James’s legs into a giant spring. He and Peter had to grab ahold of him to stop him from falling on his face. 

Remus finished the prank off by sinking what would have been his feet into the stone floor. Sirius unfroze James, and they watched as James wobbled forwards and backwards like a jack in a box without the box. 

The rest of the Marauders left him there, yelling after them as they went to dinner, raucous laughter bouncing off the close corridor walls as they went. 

He yelled himself hoarse, trying to get someone’s attention. He called out again, and the heavy wooden door creaked open, and Regulus’s head popped around it into the room. 

“I thought I could hear your voice.” He said, his brow screwed up in concern. “Are you alright?” 

He came further into the room and caught sight of James’s predicament. The usually stoic boy snorted with laughter and ended up on his hands and knees, gasping for air he laughed so hard. 

Eventually, he composed himself enough to wipe the tears away and stood before his slightly bouncing boyfriend. “Did my brother do this to you?” He asked, stroking James’s cheek.

“And Remus and Peter.” James pouted. “Can you help me?” Regulus took a step backwards, biting his bottom lip. 

“I can, but I’m not going to.” A wicked glint flashed in his eyes as he raised his wand. James’s face was covered in gaudy clown makeup before he could utter a word. 

Regulus pecked a kiss on James’s lips before he left him again. “Happy April Fool’s Day, love.” He cackled as he shut the door behind him.   

[steddiemicrofic]

💐 april prompt 🌸

happy april babies!!! can’t believe we’re getting so close to our first anniversary on this blog. seriously thank you so so much to everyone who participates in these challenges, i love this community and i think you’re all pretty 😘

mickala and i thought it would be fun to shake things up a bit, so this month we’re doing a whole group of words as your prompt and giving you a larger word count than normal so you have plenty of room to fit them all into your story. everything else is business as usual: interpret the prompt however you like, make sure your submission is steddie-centric third pov with a title, rating, and tags, and word counts must be exact when pasted into wordcounter.net. mods will comment a 🥧 to let you know your story has been verified and added to the queue, and then you can add your fic to the april ao3 collection

okay sick, onto the prompt!

your april wc is ✨ 1987 ✨ and your prompts are:

and

around

desert

down

give

gonna

let

never

run

up

you

xoxo,

gossip wynn 💋

jk beloveds your actual prompt is

🃏 fool | 454 words 🃏

[oh-stars]

Repeat

wc: 454 | cw: N/A | m rating | for @steddiemicrofic | Prompt: "fool"

---

“Is there a reason this song is on repeat?” 

Eddie looks up, eyes dry and irritated, from his notebook. Steve’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a hand on his hip and the other keeping him balanced along the counter top. He’s haloed by the kitchen light, backlit and angelic in all his glory. When did he get home? How long has he been here to notice the songs on repeat and Eddie hadn’t noticed his arrival? How long has he been working?

“It’s the perfect work song,” Eddie says as he tucks his pen into his notebook and slides off the couch. His body protests, skin stretching to its limits and joints popping with the new movement. He should probably stretch more, do his physical therapy exercises from time to time, but he can’t be bothered. 

Steve tilts his chin up as Eddie walks closer, eyes all warm and his smirk so tempting, Eddie can’t help but kiss it off his face. 

Their lips meet as the song comes to a crescendo, a tender kiss that breathes life into Eddie’s aching body. “Missed you,” Eddie mumbles as he kisses along Steve’s jaw. 

His hands are so big on Eddie’s waist, squeezing as his fingertips slip under Eddie’s tank. “Missed you too. Surprised you weren’t waiting on the porch for me,” Steve says, his voice rich in its lower register. 

Eddie’s face is hot from Steve and his embarrassment, he had meant to. He had wanted to. Inspiration struck and… Eddie follows when it calls. He thought he set a timer, but the repetitive song and his focus must have tuned it out. 

The song starts from the top. Eddie hums with it, whispering the lyrics in Steve’s ear as he wraps his arms around his neck. “There's perfect harmony in the rising and the falling of the sea.” His lips brush the shell of Steve’s ear as he nips at his earlobe. 

Steve moans, hands no longer squeezing as he pulls Eddie toward their bedroom. “Eds,” he gasps when Eddie sucks in the spot behind his ear, pressing their bodies closer together. 

They tumble into their room and onto the bed without separating, too engrossed in one another to care.

Eddie pulls away to slip off their shirts as the chorus kicks on, louder now that they’re near the stereo. He lets himself get into it, standing on the bed as he sings with his chest, “Leaving nothing, nothing more to say, all the fools sailed away.” As the song wraps up, Eddie pops out the tape and puts on their sex mixtape. 

When he turns around, Steve’s naked and lounging against their pillows. 

And well. He’d be a fool to leave him waiting. 

--

thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[feroluce]

Thinking tonight about Caelus, and the nature of his loss and his grief after the Everything that went down in Penacony during 2.0.

Because Acheron, Black Swan, and Misha kind of knew of Firefly, they at least met her, but they didn't like really know her, and Caelus never even got the chance to introduce her to the rest of the Astral Express Crew. The only person who would have talked to her much was Sparkle, who is. Probably not really someone Caelus is interested in grieving with skznmsks

Anyway, all this to say, I like thinking about how alone poor Caelus is in his grief, because he was the only one who knew Firefly. He's the only one really mourning her. There's no one to talk about her with. There's no stories to trade or memories to reminisce with anyone over. It's not as though he knew her for long, but still. No one else knew her at all.

And I love the thought of all of this coming bubbling up, hot and acidic and bitter, during a conversation with Sampo, who Caelus just so happens to run into in the Golden Hour. Poor Sampo is kinda blindsided, he knew shit was going down in Penacony, but yeesh. And he just. Isn't quite sure what to say about it all, because he's never really encountered this before. His feelings about the Masked Fools are...a mixed bag, but he's been a part of them for a very long time, and when you're with a close organization like that, it's hard to feel alone, in grief or otherwise.

So Sampo sits there on their little bench that the two of them have occupied, and he thinks of his old friend April, how she'd died in his arms cackling and spitting her own blood after a heist gone wrong, and how after he'd dragged himself back to the World's End Tavern they'd all held a Fool's Funeral- which is basically just a big party where everyone gets really really drunk and reminisces and toasts the dead and celebrates their life.

He still thinks about her a lot, and he remembers how the time he'd most keenly felt her absence was on Jarilo-VI, the one place where he couldn't talk about her because he couldn't say anything to give himself away as an alien. The Fools still tell stories about her every time he goes back to the Tavern. His first toast of the night is always in her name. Even now, all these years after she'd died, Sampo is still learning new things about her. He's never had to grieve her alone.

Caelus doesn't have any of that.

He might never have that. As they speak, Caelus has no proof that Firefly was even her real name, or if she dreamt with her true appearance. He might not ever find out who she even was.

And just imagining that kind of loneliness hollows out a strange little pit, right behind his sternum, deep between his ribs.

So Sampo claps Caelus' shoulder and offers him a deal. Come find him outside of the dream. He knows a guy who can get them a lot of beer for really cheap-

("Is that guy you and your five finger discounts?" "Whatever do you mean, dear friend, I don't even know the meaning of the phrase, hehee.")

-and they can hole up in a bar or a hotel room or something, and get completely shitcanned. Tell him all about Firefly, tell him everything, and he'll tell Caelus about April and everyone else he's ever lost. Sampo will carry Caelus' memories of Firefly with him, and at least this way, Caelus will be a little less alone in remembering her. And the next time they cross paths, Sampo will be the one to bring her up, and to tell her stories, and Caelus can get to be the one listening. He won't have to be the only person to talk about her anymore.

Caelus rolls his eyes when Sampo avoids another remark about sticky fingers, but...ok, yeah. That sounds good. Nice, even. Thank you. Caelus bumps his shoulder against Sampo's. Sampo bumps back.

(They find each other again the next day, and true to their word, get themselves completely and utterly shitcanned. Caelus talks more than Sampo has ever heard him; every minute detail, every word choice, Firefly's every odd little mannerism and habit. Because Caelus wants to make sure this will outlive him, that even if the Stellaron dwelling within him finally burns him to a crisp and he really does up and kick the bucket, or even, godforbid, if he forgets, he wants to make sure someone remembers her. She deserved that.)

((And it takes quite a while, after that. Caelus doesn't see Sampo again until after everything has settled down. On his last day in Penacony, he finds the guy slinking out of a seedy back alley and all but runs right into him. Sampo happily leads him to some dive bar in an even seedier back alley that Caelus has never even heard of, and Sampo raises his glass. "To Firefly! Who sounds like she probably would have hated me at first, but I would have liked to have met her anyway."

And Caelus stares at him, almost looking startled, long enough that Sampo worries that he's read him wrong and brought this up too soon. He's halfway into planning how to talk himself out of this situation when Caelus finally throws back his head back and laughs, tells him that yeah, Firefly would have politely called him out on every lie he told, and all their conversations would take twice as long with the way Sampo is so full of shit.

And he can see it, the same way he watches and sees through everyone, that Caelus' eyes have a tightness to them, his knuckles are nearly white around the handle of his mug. But he smiles. He hits his glass against Sampo's far too hard and throws it back and gets foam everywhere like he does every time they drink because the guy's about as elegant as a raging bull, but those things don't lessen the genuineness of his smile.

The grief is there, but so is the elation, and those emotions aren't a sliding scale between one or the other. It is all of both and both at once, and that's what contents Sampo enough to throw his own mug back when Caelus makes a toast of his own, "to April!!".))

[yokohamapound]

Myshka - Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader

I can't believe this is my first Fyodor piece, but here we go... This is silly but the idea wouldn't leave my head for an April Fool's fic.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He’s nothing but a silhouette. A wall of screens rises up before him, glaring like suns in the dim room. Information flickers across them in a constant, incomprehensible screed. You couldn’t read them even if you wanted to. 

He sits with his back to you, a ragged outline of darkness against the wall of brightness. A fur hat and fur-trimmed collar, only moving every now and then to look at this screen or that, his hands dancing across the keyboard like a concert pianist. You can’t see his face, but his hands are pale, long-fingered, moving almost with minds of their own, independent of each other. 

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

His voice is deeper than one would expect, from such a pretty face. Though he faces away from you now, you remember it well—sharp, delicate features, pale skin, shadowed violet eyes. The thought of being pinned under that stare again makes you shiver. 

You don’t know who he is, or what he wants with you. Just that he swept into your life, plucked you off the street, and here you are. 

Trapped, tense, waiting to discover your fate. Destiny hangs over you like the sword of Damocles. 

So far, all he seems to do is work, tapping away at his keyboard and humming to himself. Others come and go—a man in a black cloak, a jester in white who likes to poke at you and gibber nonsense—but no one seems to have a use for you yet. 

“Nothing to say, myshka?” 

His voice floats over to you, taunting. He insists on speaking to you, even though you don’t—can’t—respond. What would you even say? If you opened your mouth, all that would come out is a frightened squeak. 

It isn’t all bad. You’re given food and drink, somewhere to sleep. Whatever your purpose in this man’s grand design, it doesn’t seem one of suffering. He will keep you alive for as long as he needs you. 

Your silence finally seems to get to him. He turns in his chair, the flickering screens painting his features with uncertain blue-white light. 

Frozen, huddled, you watch him as he regards you in turn. A smile tugs at his mouth, an amused noise bubbling up from in his throat. Oh, you do seem to amuse him. Why is beyond you. Nothing you’ve done is remotely funny. Perhaps he simply enjoys your helplessness. 

“Look at you,” he hums, rising to his feet. “Still so frightened of me?”

His footsteps seem to echo through the cavernous room as he approaches you, picking his way easily between the wires that trail everywhere like vines.  He bends down to get a better look at you, his locks of dark hair shifting around his face as he tilts his head. 

Long, pale fingers reach for you and you cringe backward. The man lets out a low sound, seeming almost…disappointed. But that cannot be right. You know he takes satisfaction in tormenting you. Otherwise, why would you be here?

“Do I not give you everything you need, myshka?” he asks. “Are you hungry? Is that it?”

Freedom! you want to scream. Release me from this cage—

Suddenly, a head of white hair pops around the door frame, long braid swinging. The jester wears a grin like a carnival mask, his eyes crinkled with sadistic amusement. 

“Are you still trying to play with that pet mouse of yours?” he scoffs. “Just give it a morsel of cheese.”

Fyodor looks down at the cage housing the little mouse he plucked off the streets on a whim. Beady black eyes glare at him through the bars, tiny pink paws curled into miniature fists.

And here he thought the creature was warming up to him.

:P