April Fools Pokemon Novels & Stories

Scarlett Moore is an ordinary junior at Seayes Town High School, where her best friend Brooklyn Davis shines as the star. In the hallway, Scarlett faces her nemesis, Brooklyn's boyfriend—or perhaps ex-boyfriend—Skyler Thompson. Known as the famous quarterback who dates only blonde cheerleaders, Skyler enjoys calling Scarlett "Red," aiming to rile her up. However, as Brooklyn's infidelity comes to light, Scarlett finds herself and Skyler entangled in an awkward web of emotions and discoveries.

Every April Fools' Day, my boyfriend joined his childhood friend in the same cruel prank, pretending to propose to me. Last year, I slipped the ring onto my finger, my heart full of hope. Suddenly, the mechanism snapped tight. Pain shot through my hand, and I cried out. He apologized afterward and promised that, this year, the proposal would be real. As such, I arrived carefully dressed, believing him. Instead, I was met with a face full of cake. He reached out gently, wiping the cream from my face as if it were nothing more than a harmless joke. However, this time, I took a step back. After six disappointments, I chose to walk away. So why was it that, in the end, he was the one consumed by regret?

On April Fool's Day, my husband sent me an intimate photo of himself and his secretary, Claire Bennett. "I've actually been with Claire for three years. Our child is already two years old. "I'm planning to fake my death in a car accident and then move overseas with her and our daughter." The look of shock on my face made him burst out laughing. "Got you. It was April Fool's Day. You didn't actually believe that, did you?" I had just breathed a sigh of relief when he casually added, "But the part about Claire and me having a child is true." I said nothing as I looked at the smug, provocative grin on his face. What he didn't know was that I'd possessed a Lies Come True System since childhood. Whenever someone sincerely told me a lie, that lie would come true. And the death he casually joked about would become reality just three days later.

Every April Fools’ Day, Wilson Hale and Chloe Mercer turned our anniversary into a joke. A fake proposal. A trick ring. A room full of laughter. And every year, Wilson was sure I loved him too much to leave. This year, cake cream slid down my face, my ring hit the marble floor, and he still smiled like I would forgive him by morning. He forgot one thing. I was not Vivian Gray, the lonely girl with nowhere to go. I was Vivian Vescari, daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast. I had left that world because I wanted to be loved before anyone knew my name. For six years, I thought Wilson was that man. Then I learned even his first confession had been an April Fools’ bet. So I stopped being the joke. I went home.

A war veteran and an anime fan as well, he got into anime by watching it with his grandson after his retirement, his grandson loved pokemon and so did he also came to like this world of pokemon where people didn't kill each other and people used to have fun with there pokemon, after watching Pokemon with his grandson and playing with him all day he got back his childhood which he could never experience due to the cruel war, and as of now our MC has turned 82 years old he was very satisfied with his life with no regrets and waiting for death to take him away but will death be is end or will it start a new beginning, a new legend.

On our wedding day, my boyfriend, Hayden Grant, had me thrown out of the chapel. Instead, he walked down the aisle hand-in-hand with his childhood sweetheart. I went back in and collapsed at the side of the aisle. The bouquet slipped from my hands, and scattered petals fell everywhere. However, his eyes did not linger on me for even half a second. "Selena's child needs a dad. Once that's taken care of, I'll marry you." Everyone thought I, the lovesick fool, would willingly wait another month. After all, I had already waited for him for seven years. However, that night, I did something no one expected. I agreed to my parents' arranged marriage and left the country. Three years later, I returned home to visit my parents. My husband, William Fields, was the CEO of a multinational corporation. When an unexpected, important meeting came up, he asked me to head to the company's branch back home ahead of him, where his subordinates would take care of me. To my surprise, one of those subordinates turned out to be Hayden, the man I had not seen in three years. His eyes went straight to the sparkling diamond on my ring finger. "Is this a knockoff of that pink diamond Mr. Fields bought for his wife that's worth five million dollars? I didn't expect you to become so vain after all these years. "You've stirred up enough drama. Come home. Selena's kid is in school now, so it's the perfect chance for you to take care of his lunches." I did not say a word and just traced the ring with my fingertips. He had no idea that this was the cheapest of all the gems William had ever given me.

My sister, Cherry Nicholson, called me nine times before she jumped into the sea. But I didn't pick up once. Now everyone says it's my fault she's gone—even my fiance, my Alpha mate—Samuel Carver. He used to stay by my side through every painful treatment for my wolfsbane fever. Now, he shoves me to the ground like I'm nothing. His once gentle face is now twisted with contempt as he looks down on me and warns, "You don't deserve to be happy!" And truth be told, it isn't just them who believe that. Even I do. Since then, I've stopped going out, stopped dressing up, and stopped meeting anyone's eyes. Even when I run into Samuel holding hands with another she-wolf, I lower my head and walk past silently. But when the wolfsbane fever comes back, I drown in agony and despair. I decide to give my life to atone for what happened to Cherry. That's when they all start to regret it.

At the annual Mafia Summit, my childhood sweetheart, Salvatore Russo, falls victim to an aphrodisiac slipped to him by a beautiful spy from a rival family. And I, the cherished daughter of the most feared Don in the west, willingly become his antidote. That night, he drives me to the edge of breathless surrender, again and again. "Principessa, what did I ever do to deserve your favor?" he mutters. From that moment on, his love consumes me whole, making me forget what loneliness ever felt like. But in the third year of our marriage, someone sent me a private video of a man and a woman. It's from Rosa Conti, the same woman who once drugged Salvatore. In the video, Salvatore's voice is thick with desire. "Darling, of course I remember. The one who should've been in my bed that night was you." Then, Rosa sends me another voice message, taunting, "Arianna Moretti, for three years, he's been dulling your claws, turning you into something soft and spoiled. Everything he did was just to bring me back." However, she doesn't know that when I love Salvatore, I don't mind surrendering to him. And when I no longer love him, he'll face my fiercest vengeance.

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my cheeks burn as I dodge my husband, Ethan Grant, leaning in for a hungry kiss. I push him toward the nightstand for a rubber. What he doesn't know is that I've tucked a surprise in there, a positive pregnancy test. I can already see it, the way his whole face will light up the second he finds it. But the moment his hand goes for the drawer, his phone goes off. His best friend, Henry Miller, comes on the line in Danish. "Mr. Grant, how was last night? That new love couch our company rolled out is treating you okay?" Ethan lets out a low laugh and answers in Danish, "The massage feature's great. Saves me from having to rub Sandy's back myself." He still has me pulled tight against him, but his eyes look straight through me, like he's seeing someone else. "This stays between us. If my wife ever finds out I slept with her sister, I'm done." It feels like someone just put a knife through my chest. What they don't know is that I minored in Danish in college, so I catch every single word. I force myself to stay calm, but the arms I have looped around Ethan's neck won't stop shaking. At that moment, I stop hesitating and decide I'll take the offer from that international research project. Three days from now, I'll be gone from Ethan's world for good.