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summer-of-bad-batch · 3 days

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☀️GENERAL INFORMATION BELOW THE CUT☀️

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Prompt List

Week 1

Main Prompt: COMING 6/1/2024

Alt. Prompt: COMING 6/1/2024

You can find the Ao3 collection HERE!

And I know that sometimes, it can be a pain to figure out how to add to collections (please tell me I'm not the ONLY one who has struggled with this 😭), so here's a step by step!

STEP ONE: Post a New Work OR Edit an existing work.

STEP TWO: Under the Associations category, you’ll see “Post to Collections / Challenges”

STEP THREE: Type summerofbadbatch2024 (no spaces)

STEP FOUR: This is where it gets tricky...the collection may or may not auto populate. If it doesn't, that's okay. Just leave summerofbadbatch2024 in there as is, and save the post (you can even save it as a draft and see if it worked!) It should add it to the collection even if it didn't auto populate 🤓

Q: What is Summer of Bad Batch??

A: Summer of Bad Batch is a laidback, summer prompt challenge from June 1st-August 31st. Every Sunday (12am CST), a prompt and alternative prompt will be released to inspire creativity in the Star Wars: The Bad Batch fandom! By filling prompts by August 31st, you can qualify as a:

Participant (completed 1-12 prompts)

Completionist (completed 13+ prompts)

Overachiever (completed 13 main prompts + the 13 alternative prompts)

At the end of the challenge, there will be a form for participants to fill out to let me know what category of completion they fall into. A post will be made for each category giving a shoutout and (if you’d like) a link to your Master List of completed prompt fills.

Q: What can I do to fill a prompt?

A: Anything you want! Fanfic, fan art, drabbles, doodles, cartoons, poetry...the possibilities are endless! The only real criteria is that it has to be based on Star Wars: The Bad Batch.

Q: Will you reblog prompt fills?

A: Yes! However, since I am keeping this blog PG, I will only reblog prompt fills that fit within that criteria. Basically, if it could be in the literal show itself, it could be reblogged here ☺️

(That said, I won’t reblog any clone x clone content simply because it is one of my main squicks 😅)

Also, make sure you tag your prompt fills! That's the only way I'll be able to find them in the wide world of Tumblr! So, tag your prompt fills with #summerofbadbatch2024 so I (and anyone else who is looking for Summer of Bad Batch goodness!) can find your posts!

(And everything is welcome on the Ao3 Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Collection — so make sure to add to it if you’re on Ao3!)

Q: When will prompts be released?

A: Every Sunday (with the exception of Week 1, which will have a special release date of Saturday, June 1st) at 12am CST.

Q: What if I don’t understand a prompt?

A: Send me a message or an ask! I’d be happy to help!

Q: What if I don’t like the weekly prompt?

A: Every week will have an alternate prompt available! And alternate prompts can be swapped out for any main prompt, regardless of which week!

Q: Where can I post my prompt fills?

A: Anywhere you'd like! Personally, I'm only on Ao3 and Tumblr...but I know that this fandom is literally all over the internet, so wherever you feel comfortable posting, do it!!

Q: What if I don't finish filling the prompt within the week?

A: One of my favorite parts of this prompt challenge is that there are no deadlines! If you want to be a Completionist or an Overachiever, you just have to have the prompts complete by August 31st!

Finished week 2 during week 5? Great!

Finished weeks 1-13 during week 13?? 😅 That works!

Q: Do I have to post/publish my prompt fills to be considered a participant/completionist/overachiever?

A: Nope! I know not to everyone feels comfortable sharing their work, and that’s totally fine!

You don’t have to post/publish a single thing to qualify. At the end of the challenge, I’ll link a form for anyone who participated to fill out. This is all based on the honor system…so if you say you completed “such and such”…I’ll take your word for it 😊 If you want, you can still be given a shout out for whatever level of participation you said you completed. Just let me know!

Q: Can I combine prompts?

A: Yes! Mash up those prompts and make a custom, super prompt if your heart so desires!

Q: But can I combine prompts with other challenges?

A: Absolutely! If the other challenge allows it, feel free to combine Summer of Bad Batch as you see fit ✨

Q: Can I apply prompts to works I've already completed/posted?

A: Prompts should not be applied to already completed works.

But if you have a WIP that's been gathering dust that would fit the occasion, that would be fine!

Have a story that you're adding chapters to? You can apply prompts to new chapters! That's fine too!

Q: Will there be a complete prompt list available?

A: Not until after the event, since prompts will be posted weekly 😘

Q: Can I use the prompts even after the event has ended?

A: Absolutely!

You didn’t find your question here?? Send me an ask, I’d be happy to help!

#summerofbadbatch2024 #the bad batch #summer prompt challenge #star wars #star wars the bad batch #prompt challenge #sw tbb #tbb #fanfiction #fanart

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calqlate · 2 days

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GENSHIN BOYS AS BOYS I'VE CRUSHED ON BEFORE

PAIRING(S): al-haitham + diluc + kamisato ayato + thoma x gn! reader

MASTERLIST

CW(S)/TW(S): coarse/foul/strong language used

TAGLIST (italicsed blogs are unable to be tagged): @deeomi + @loving-august + @mshope16 + @saintbernardthethird + @thelonelyarchon

A/N: not me writing about these irl guys when the last 2 guys turned out to be red flags (clown emoji). n e ways, pls enjoy!

— DILUC RAGNVINDR | the boy who i first liked

as a mega stickler for tradition, he will write letters to you. he was the first one who started this little tradition between both of you, handing you a sealed envelope shyly and telling you to open it when you get home. and so both of you wrote letters to one another, handing them to each other jn person and reading the other's letter in the confines of your own respective homes before penning a response.

he is a bit possessive and protective, never letting anyone open doors for you or escorting you but himself. if you do let anyone do any of the said chivalrous acts, just know you will have to face a mopey and pouty diluc when you next meet him.

he is not one to show pda, but he will always hold your hand in public, with your fingers interlocked with his.

he always has to be by your side, making it his job to be your personal bodyguard. he will always be next to you at parties and will always look out for you.

— THOMA | the boy who was by my side (granted, for 2 years)

he watches over you very carefully and makes sure that you never get hurt. however, if you do get hurt, he will be the first to calm you down and distract you from the pain.

he always knows how to cheer you up when you are down and honestly is such good company to be around. he has big brother energy (omg iykyk but he has similar vibes to hidden love's duan jiaxu) <3

he is also very good with his words and knows how to compliment you when you feel like shit about yourself. got a bad haircut that makes you look like a mushroom? he does not think so; if anything, he thinks you are gorgeous no matter what!

— AL-HAITHAM | the boy who never speaks much

he naturally does not talk a lot and mostly keeps to himself. if you have a big group of friends and he is part of that said social circle, he will mostly sit and listen to the others talk.

he is terrible at comforting people, but he will try his best <//3 he will give you awkward pats on the shoulder and tell you that everything will work out. (not the most 100% foolproof approach, but hey, he has got the spirit!)

he is the kind of person that does not like to go out and have lunch with friends. rather, he would have his food packaged as a takeaway and eat while he is working. so, you definirely know that you have a special place in his heart when he agrees to go and eat with you (and your friends).

he will give you the lowdown on why you should not date a particular person and has receipts on the ready (do not ask how he got that much dirt on them...)

— KAMISATO AYATO | the boy who has natural rizz

one thing i have to say is that he gives compliments at sporadic moments and will completely take you by surprise. for instance, you could be minding your own business and he will say something to make your heart skip a beat.

he is also a bit cheeky and will shout "boo" to friends who turn the corner and bump into him (he will apologise afterwards with a grin though).

he is also really formal when speaking with people (in general) (and it is probably because of his upbringing as well) and he is a genuinely nice person to meet

he is the kind of guy who jumps onto the bandwagon when someone else is trying to hype you up

he will also tell you to take care of your health and tell you to watch yourself when you fall sick

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lemonsrosesandlavender · 2 days

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Rolan being a service sub.

That's it.

That's the ask.

“That’s it, that’s the ask.” Thank you prompter… I did not exactly match your short and sweet energy. In fact, this turned out quite long - but I hope you enjoy! (I think I'll also put this up on AO3 as a Rolan x Reader fic, title TBC. If you're on AO3 and want to off-anon yourself, I'll happily mark it as a gift - but no worries if you'd rather not!)

tags - sub Rolan, D/s, brief bloodplay mention, collars, rimming, overstimulation. 2392 words.

Sometimes, Rolan gets in a strange mood. Helping you almost insistently, begging you to take it easy. It’s often when you’ve been out, defending Baldur’s Gate from some new menace - an adventurer’s work is never done - but just as often it seems to accompany him staying up late, as if he fears having neglected you.

Coming back from an exhausting day of fighting ghouls, you find him waiting behind the counter of the closed-up Sundries, ostensibly taking inventory. The moment he sees you, he drops the scroll he’s holding and Misty Steps to your side, before kneeling at your feet.

‘Ah… Rolan?’ you ask, smiling. ‘How about a welcome home kiss?’

Not that he doesn’t look nice like that, you’re just surprised. Even more so when, instead of rising to give you a kiss, he throws his head between your legs, kissing your thigh.

‘You must be tired,’ he says hastily. ‘Allow me to take off your boots. Please.’

There’s a twinge of something so desperate, so needy in that last word, that you feel the heat stir inside you.

‘Well,’ you murmur, stroking his hair. Pulling it a little, until he gasps and the softest whine escapes. ‘Be quick about it. I want a bath.’

Rolan’s breath catches, and he stands up, an anxious frown on his face.

‘I will heat one for you -’

Snatching his wrist in the nick of time - interrupting the beginning of another Misty Step incantation - you pull him close, cupping his face in your hand. His jaw relaxes a little beneath your fingers, but he still looks tense.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Of course,’ he snaps, and then bites his tongue. ‘I thought you liked me like this,’ he murmurs, looking a little unsure.

‘I do,’ you tell him, stroking his cheek softly. ‘Very much. It’s just… unusual for you. Obeying me without putting up an argument about it.’

‘Must I always be myself?’

It’s asked with a rake of one pointed canine over his lip, his expression tired. Frustrated even - but not at you.

‘Rolan,’ you murmur. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply - I know there’s more to you than that.’

You kiss him gently, lips brushing his, letting the soft pressure of his lips part yours. His are closed, but as your tongue flickers over their surface he tilts his mouth into yours, asking for more.

‘I was just worried. That you felt you had to earn something from me.’

He shakes his head, eyes closed, and frantically seeks another kiss. Your tongue presses deep into him this time, fingers curling in the soft twists of his hair.

When at last you break apart, you keep hold of him there, guiding his head down.

‘Boots first. And then a bath.’

'Of course.’

Sinking to the floor, he begins his deft work on your laces, elegant fingers dancing across the eyelets. When both of them are loose, you put your foot on his thigh and wait for him to tug each one off in succession, watching his brow furrow as if this is the most important task in the world. Perhaps you should sink into that feeling too. Why should he be doing anything else in this moment than worshipping you, serving you, adoring you? You deserve this.

Your heel digs in a little on his thigh, and he whimpers.

‘You’re beautiful,’ you tell him.

His eyes flick up to you, widening into oceans of gilded brilliance.

‘You are beautiful. I am -’

Kicking your other boot off, you bend down, seizing his jaw.

‘- not allowed to refuse a compliment,’ you warn him, finishing his sentence. The cold, silvery blade in your voice does its job. Rolan nods, taking a deep, shivering breath.

'What should I do next?'

'Pour me a bath. A hot one. I'll be down in a moment.'

Heading to your room, you strip off the last of your combat clothes and rummage in a drawer full of trinkets from your travels. There it is. A beautiful collar you found in the Underdark, glowing with Draconic ruins. Admittedly, it might have been intended for a dog; but it looks big enough for Rolan's neck. And he would look so pretty in it.

Scents both woody and floral swirl through the air, rising from the bath tub steam, enveloping you in their heady grasp as you slip through one of the Tower's many magic portals into the cool stone of the Vault bathroom.

Rolan hastens over, eyes downcast.

'I have prepared it for you. Should I -'

'Rolan,' you interrupt. 'Look at me.'

He does. How obedient of him... although before his eyes meet yours, they brush over your naked form, and he subdues an eager flicker in his tail.

'Strip,' you command him.

'Is that collar for me?'

You slip your fingers back into his hair, about to remind him to follow your orders; but you don't get as far as pulling it. He's already rushing to rip off his robes, yanking with an uncharacteristic lack of care at the collar buttons.

'Good,' you whisper, letting him go.

In a moment, his clothes are discarded in a red-and-blue linen pool at his feet, his sharp toenails curling into the ground. Naked, he looks anxiously at you for direction - or approval?

'I told you,' you say, stroking his cheek. 'You're beautiful. Every part of you.'

Your hand slips down, wandering his ridged chest, tracing a lingering trail over the star of his stomach until at last you reach his thickness, his beautiful length already inflamed with so much lust he whines when you touch it.

'Sorry,' he gasps. 'My apologies - I'll be quiet, I promise.'

Your grip tightens, and he sobs.

'Don't be quiet.'

Rolan nods.

'No. I said don't be quiet.' Your fingers squeeze tighter yet, and he chokes out a groan.

'Of course - I'm sorry - anything you say.'

'Good.' You toy with his cock a little more, more tenderly this time, enjoying the pinch between his brows and the arch of his lip that tells you how much he likes it, how easily you could finish him already. Desire leaks from his tip as you thumb it.

'Should I put this collar on you? Would you like that? Would you like to feel owned?'

He shudders. 'Yes - please - yes -'

'Hmmm. The Master of Ramazith's Tower, collared. Perhaps you should wear this beneath your robes.' You tug the collar snugly, buckling it. Rolan's cock twitches.

'Ah - I believe it locks,' he mutters. 'With an incantation.'

'How do you know?' you tease him, forgetting, for a moment, your icily dominant mood.

'I, ah, was organising the drawers and... found it rather interesting.'

'You fucking whore.'

'Nnnnnh!'

He sobs, buckling against you. 'Gods, please, call me that again!'

'No. I'm getting in the bath.'

'No!' he protests, before he remembers himself. 'I mean - of course - whatever you say -'

'Mhhm. That's right. Now get me a glass of wine.'

The bath is deliciously hot, the water velvet with perfumed oils. Rolan has settled into the luxury of the Tower very enthusiastically, though only Ramazith himself knows how old those perfume bottles are. They might be collecting a little dust, but the smell is so intoxicating, you can't tell they've aged a bit. If you closed your eyes, you could picture yourself in a rose garden at sunset, caressing their silken petals and wrapping Rolan's fingers around the thorns, pressing down just a little until you could lick the blood from his pricked fingers.

Your hand slips down, palming at your groin.

Rolan stops dead as he comes back through the portal, clutching the glass and bottle in his hands tight. His cock throbs at the sight of you.

'Don't come without me,' he begs. 'Please. I want to please you - my body is yours -'

You beckon him closer, plucking the full glass from his fingers.

'Fetch that cushion,' you murmur, gesturing to the chair in the corner.

'As you wish.'

He pads over to get it, the tight curl of his tail tip betraying his arousal even from behind. And what a behind. You feel positively lecherous, drinking in the sight of his beautiful back, his wings and ridges and ass, lust written in the twist of your tongue and the arch of your back.

As Rolan returns to your side, you take a sip of wine, revelling in its rich taste.

'Put that on the floor, and kneel on it.'

His chest rises and falls with each of your instructions, no matter how small. Abruptly, you twist over the side, sloshing water all over him, taking a long look at his pretty cock. It looks even better, slicked with oil and water, glistening at the tip and burgundy-veined along its length.

Rolan's lips fall open, his breath racing. He tilts his hips a little, offering his cock for your gaze.

Well, since you've been invited. You lean further still over the tub's metal rim, pressing your fingers into his open mouth.

'Mmmmmf -'

His hips buck as you stroke his tongue.

'Touch yourself,' you murmur, sinking back into the bath with your fingers still wrapped in their wet, adoring embrace.

'Mmmm - '

Rolan frowns, protesting that commandment in particular; though he keeps sucking your fingers with an assiduous eagerness. Worship, even.

'Touch. Yourself,' you repeat more sharply.

He frowns again, the lines cutting deeper into his face.

'Nnnnn -'

You drag your fingers out of his mouth, and shrug, taking another draft of your wine.

'As you wish. If you won't behave, then you don't get to suck my fingers.'

'No, please,' he gasps. 'I will come - the moment I touch myself - you don't understand how desperate I am -'

'You won't come. Because I told you not to.'

'Ahhhh - I will try - please, just put your fingers back in my mouth - oh!'

Catching his collar in your fingers, you tug him closer.

'Hand on your cock. Now.'

Rolan hesitates, taking a deep breath; then, with an anxious grimace, he reaches slowly down between his legs, wincing as he touches it.

'You're so good, my love. Open your mouth.'

Before you slip your fingers back into him, you soak them in your wine, letting the shining ruby drops slip down their length onto his lips. He whimpers as you explore deeper, fingers pushing back into his throat, testing how well he can take you. Very well. After all, you do punish his argumentative mouth with something much larger, when he's in one of his brattier moods, and though he loves to gag and choke and protest he loves taking you. Today, though his throat hitches and his eyes water, he caresses you quietly, adoringly, bobbing gently on your fingers.

'Put this down,' you tell him, passing the half-finished glass to his free hand. Then, you lean once more over the side, pulling his forehead to your chest, stroking his horns and hair and ears. 'You're so perfect, Rolan. Gods. You're so good at serving me. You're so good at it. I'm going to spoil you for being so good - no, don't come, you can hold on -'

'Nnnnngh!'

He writhes, and suddenly a hot, wet tear splashes down on the back of your hand.

'Oh, Rolan. Does it hurt? Do you want to come that badly?'

More tears.

'Mmmm!'

His breaths are ragged, piercing the air with desperation; but they only make your blood run hotter.

'Fight it for me.'

'Mmmm! Nnnnngh - ah - fuck!'

He pulls back suddenly, and then slumps onto the floor, whimpering softly.

Jumping out of the bath, you kneel beside him, brushing the hair from his face.

'Breathe,' you whisper, and he nods.

Three squeezes of his hand, firm and deliberate. Three come right back. A smile creeps back onto your lips. He's alright. Deliciously close to the border of too-much - but just on the right side. You stroke his hair a moment longer, holding his hand over his chest; feeling his breath steady to mere fever, instead of delirium.

'I love you,' you murmur. 'Do you want to please me now?'

He nods, and the runes on his collar dance.

Gently, you tug him upright, and he takes his place back on the cushion. The veins on his cock are livid and straining, pretty ruby rivers of want; the temptation to stroke them is strong, but you resist.

Instead, you slip in front of him, putting one knee up on the bath rim. You brace your hands on the bath too, and then cant your hips back until your ass is right in his face.

'Well,' you tease him. 'Go on then.'

He dives in. Hands on your ass, spreading it so that his eager tongue can press in, first flickering and then circling and then pressing in, indecent in his haste to be inside you.

'Fuck, Rolan,' you groan, reaching between your legs again. 'Fuck! You're - so - good - don't - stop!'

If only you could enjoy the heat of his tongue longer, the feeling of it stroking you, caressing you - but you want to come so badly already, so wildly you don't want to wait. Rolan moans and whimpers into your asshole. You can't wait, not when you can feel the soft brush of his sounds on your skin, the squeeze of his fingers as he enjoys you, serving you so firmly his tongue must be aching, but he keeps his touch constant and eager, pressing into you over and over again -

'Fuck!' you shout, coming so hard you almost lurch into the bath. 'Fuck! Oh Gods -'

Twisting round, you drag Rolan to his feet, seizing him tight, and although the words 'come for me' are on your lips, they're already too late, because the moment Rolan's cock presses into your skin he shouts and sobs and claws you, spurting his load across both of your stomachs.

For a moment, you just stand, cradling him in your arms, kissing his exhausted face until he comes back to life with a hazy smile.

'Bath?' you ask him softly.

'Did I - did you -?' he asks hesitantly.

'Like it?' You laugh softly. 'Of course I liked it. Gods, Rolan. I loved it. And I love you.'

'I love you too,' he murmurs, and then groans. 'Gods. Yes. A bath.'

Before he gets in, his fingers reach for his throat. 'Do you mind if I keep this on? For now?'

#cabbage answers #rolan #service sub rolan #smut #cabbage trash #rolan x reader #gn reader #i stayed up outrageously late writing this lol #hope you like it anon! <3

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random-thot-generator · 2 days

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Better Not to Know + Pt. 3

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK x FEM READER

Summary: You and Kyle have "the talk." Cue the angst.

Warnings/Tags: explicit language, brief references to sex, profanity, pregnancy, pregnant reader, angst, hurt no comfort, Kyle acts like an ass, BUT there are reasons, no use of Y/N

(Notes: trying to imagine how awkward it would be to tell your random hookup that he's your new baby daddy. Sorry, no beta. Embrace the imperfections.)

banners & dividers by: @saradika-graphics

The windows are steamed in the small sandwich shop, rain still pattering down outside.

The smells of baked bread, cold cuts and coffee permeate the air, with a sweet hint of fresh-baked cookies that make your tummy rumble. You now wish you had eaten your lunch before going to pick up your boss' dry cleaning. You really were feeling peckish now, or perhaps it's just nerves making you feel queasy.

You smile up at Kyle— well, it's more like a grimace, but you murmur your thanks as he slides a cup of hot water your way, taking his own seat. He watches you dig through your purse, quirking his brow up when you pull out a packaged tea bag. It's peppermint, something that one of your mates at work suggested you drink to help quell the morning sickness. It usually settles your stomach, but you aren't sure if anything can help that anxious feeling making your gut clench and roil.

You're not ready for this. Not at all.

Your gaze slides past Kyle as you take in the quiet atmosphere of the shop. The table he chose is in the corner, just beside the large plate-glass window with the shop's name painted in stylized letters across it. It would have felt intimate, even romantic to be sitting across from him at the small café table in such a setting, if not for the way he was staring at you. In truth, he still looks mildly shocked and… disappointed?

He's facing you with his own paper cup clasped between his big hands, hands that you still dreamed about every night. Your dreams didn't do his hands or the rest of him justice. He's still one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen. Is it really any wonder that you decided to keep his baby?

Giving your head a slight shake to clear those thoughts from your mind, you concentrate instead on dunking your tea bag, praying you don't look as freaked out as you feel.

You can feel his eyes on you, studying your face before inevitably dropping to your expanded waistline again, something he's been doing since he first saw your very pregnant state. You can tell he's gearing up to say something and try to prepare yourself for it, whatever it may be, but what he says still catches you off guard.

"So, I take it ya've met someone since I saw ya last?"

You blink at him with a confused frown. "Met someone?" you repeat, already shaking your head.

He makes a vague gesture at your midriff. "Your man," he explains, brows dipping together over his sparking, dark eyes. "The father," he finishes in a low mutter.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Oh, Christ. He thinks you've met some other bloke, that you're carrying some other man's child. It strikes you as absurd, but then again, why wouldn't he think that? He hasn't seen you in over five months, and he knows nothing about you. Nothing at all. Even worse, you now realize that he may have met someone else himself in that time. There might be some bird in his life that you don't even know about yet. Your shoulders slump with an inward groan. You really should have thought this through before agreeing to his invitation.

Giving a more emphatic shake of your head, you murmur, "No, no one. I'm not seeing anyone, not with anyone. It's just me and little bug."

His face clears, and he almost seems relieved by your response before his brows knit together again. "Wait a bloody minute," he mutters, peering into your eyes. "You mean the father's not in the picture at all?" It sounds more like a demand than a question.

God, how do I explain this, you fret, the words already stuttering out of your mouth. "I-I… well, um… actually no he isn't, but—"

Kyle shifts closer, his body tense, shoulders rigid. "Ya sayin' the sorry wanker scraped ya off?" he asks, his voice incredulous and rising enough to draw a few stares from nearby patrons. You notice his hands are clenched into fists on the table.

Your mouth works, but nothing else comes out. God, this is not going as you had hoped. He's not even yet contemplating the idea that the baby might be his. This is going to totally blindside him. How are you, a bird who obviously makes impulsive life decisions on the fly, go about telling a virtual stranger that he's about to be a father?

This is not going to go well...

You're seriously wishing you had begged off his invitation now. You should have put him off, shouldn't have even entertained the notion of telling him yet, at least not until you had come up with a reasonable excuse. Yet what excuse could you give, other than to admit that you had been shockingly irresponsible about the whole thing.

You've always been the responsible one. Never a risk taker, always cautious, careful, no matter the situation. That's not to say you were indecisive, but you usually gave more thought and consideration to important matters like this. Truly, this streak of impulsive behavior you've been displaying of late is insanely out of character for you. You're smart, always on top of things, always responsible, reliable, but for the last five months, you've been anything but that. You blamed it on the hormones, but sitting face-to-face with Kyle again, you're not so sure.

A responsible, intelligent woman would have gone to the chemist's first thing the next day for a Plan B pill. She would have taken herself to the bloody clinic to get checked over to make sure she didn't catch anything after fucking a stranger in the raw. Hell, a responsible bird would have gone straight home from the club and showered, cursing herself for being so stupid while scrubbing the dickens out of her snatch with lots of soap and hot water.

You did none of those things, though you knew you absolutely should be doing all those things. You just... didn't.

Ah, but what did you do?

You went home from the club, kicked off your shoes and fell into bed, not even bothering to pee before passing out, but still gave yourself time to relish the ache between your legs. The next day, you thought about going to the chemist for a pill, but then vegged out on your couch instead. You piddled about your flat, doing dishes and laundry and ordering Chinese for dinner, not bothering to step one foot out your door. Jesus. You even tossed your cum-stained knickers into the wash with a bloody smile on your face, reliving the memory of how well he fucked you.

You knew better, you knew, and yet you did nothing.

You glance up at Kyle and wonder if there's a chance that you can get out of this, but as soon as you look into his eyes, you know that's not going to happen. There's no way you can confess to your own negligence concerning the pregnancy, but you also know that there's no backing out of this either. He's sitting stiff as a board in his seat, eyes locked on you as he awaits your answer.

"Um, well... N-No. I wasn't... um, scraped off. The father, he uh..." You draw in a shaky breath. "I've not had the opportunity to tell him yet, Kyle."

He blinks, confused. "He doesn't know?" He takes on a slightly perturbed expression. "But you're showing. Why haven't ya told him yet? Is he the type of bloke who would scrape ya off?"

That, you honestly don't know. Sure, Kyle seems like a decent enough bloke, at least, that's what you've gathered so far from your short encounter at the club and this brief exchange, but how could you know for certain? You begin to feel ill again at the thought of telling him the truth. Picking up your peppermint tea with a shaky hand, you take a sip, letting your eyes slide off to the side.

"I don't think he's that type of man," you reply. "I mean, I really don't know, but due to the circumstances… hmm…" Christ this cringe. "To be honest, I didn't know how to get in contact with him to let him know. We didn't get around to exchanging phone numbers. Or uh... names."

You say this softly and with obvious hesitance as you finally meet his gaze head-on, letting your eyes flick up to his to relay the deeper meaning of your statement. Then again, maybe you shouldn't have said anything at all, judging by the way Kyle is now looking at you.

No, check that. He's not looking at you; he's glaring at you. And he looks bloody furious.

Kyle settles slowly back in his chair, his face going empty and blank as he takes you in. You can almost see the wheels in his head turning as he processes the information you've just laid out for him. His beautiful lips press into a hard, thin line as he continues to stare at you.

"How far along are ya, exactly?" he asks, his words clipped, eyes intense.

Oh, boy…

"Five— " you croak out, then clear your clotted throat and try again. "Five months. Just a little over five months," you answer in a husky, shaking voice.

Kyle goes completely still, his dark eyes unblinking. You could see him doing the math in his head, saw understanding dawn, saw his expression go slack then morph into something cold and maybe a little bit scary. You feel your heart begin to thump hard in your chest as he leans forward on his elbows to pin you with a hard stare.

"Are ya tryin' t'say that's my baby?" His words are quiet, but his eyes and body language are terrifying.

Biting your lip, you're unable to reply. He does not look happy, not in the least. In fact, he looks right pissed, not that you can blame him for that. For a brief moment you consider lying to him, telling him that it's not his baby, just to wipe that chilling expression off his handsome face, but in the end, you simply nod in confirmation before looking down at your hands twisting in your lap. You flinch when he throws himself back in his chair with a scoff, and you hate the way he's looking at you now.

"Well, that's bloody convenient, innit?" he blurts out with a mean bark of laughter. He shakes his head, eyeing you with clear disbelief and not a little disgust. Huffing out a snide chuckle, he mutters to himself, "Should've bloody known it was too good t'be true. Fuck me." He turns his eyes away as if he can't bear to look at you anymore, and the snub hurts. It hurts something awful.

You feel embarrassment radiate from your body in a scorching tidal wave of heat as more eyes turn your way at his outburst. The prickling, hot sting climbs up from your chest to your neck then sets your head on fire. You can't bear to look at him either, so you drop your nervous gaze to watch your hand as it rubs soothing circles over your protruding stomach, instead. It's more self-soothing than anything else, but you hope it calms the baby as well. He's begun to stir, shifting inside you in reaction to your heightened anxiety.

"I-I-I know this is a big shock, Kyle, but I—"

"Is that why ya were gaggin' for it raw?" he demands, cutting you off. Someone gasps behind you, low murmurs and whispers tweaking your ears. "Fuck, was that your plan all along? Get up the duff by some poor sod, sit back and collect a check every month?"

"What?" you breathe out, stunned at his accusations.

"This whole 'chance meeting'," he sneers, using air quotes. "Was this your play all along, hoping to sucker me in or would any dumb sod ya fucked do in a pinch?"

You rear back as if he landed a physical blow. It feels like your head might explode, his cruel words causing the blood to pound in your ears. You can feel your entire body trembling now, fury and shame coursing through you as a cold, empty feeling settles like a stone in your gut. This is too much, more than you can stand.

Shooting up to your feet, hand splayed protectively over your stomach, you accidentally bump the table. Your tea topples over to run off the edge, but you ignore it as you snatch up your coat and the dry-cleaning bag from the neighboring chair. Hitching your purse up on your shoulder with a shaking hand, you try to hold back the tears stinging your sinuses and burning the backs of your eyes.

"This was a mistake," you mutter in an angry, quaking voice, meant more for yourself than him, but he hears it all the same and nods.

"Yeah, you're right. Huge fuckin' mistake," he agrees, his eyes boring into you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Breaths panting, you can feel your heart constrict. Christ, he just accused you of trying to trap him, as if you'd use your own baby to try to hook a man or extort money. Fuck him. Fuck. Him. You don't need him, never needed him or any other bloke, for that matter. You make your own way just fine, been doing it for bloody years. You'd planned on raising the baby by yourself, anyway, because you thought you'd never see the handsome stranger you met in the club again. Your baby doesn't need someone as cold and cruel as Kyle Garrick in his life, even if you'd secretly hoped that he would want to be a part of it.

Crossing paths with Kyle again was just dumb fucking luck. You should never have attempted this, should have pretended that someone else was the father or better yet just kept your bloody mouth shut to protect yourself and your baby. God, what a stupid, naïve fool you've been, pining over a man that only really existed in your head. The reality of that man is nothing like what you imagined. Not even close.

Seething with rage, burning with shame, you shuffle away from the table, ready to make a beeline for the entrance when Kyle's hand clamps around your wrist, bringing you to a halt. He glares up at you, eyes snapping with dark fury, his beautiful mouth twisted into an ugly sneer.

"Don't appreciate ya playin' games, pet, tryin' to fob off some other bloke's git on me. A DNA test would prove you're lying, and I'm not dumb enough to not ask for one, no matter how good the pussy was. I'm not one to play with, sweetheart, but ya should consider yourself lucky. Try that with another bloke, it might not work out so well for ya next time. Hope ya've learned your lesson."

A tear escapes to track down your face as his words crack open your heart. "Yeah, Kyle. I learned my lesson very well. Thanks for that, mate." Jerking your arm out of his grasp, you hurry away, not even bothering to grab your umbrella in your haste to escape him.

Kyle fights the urge to follow you, hating that he made you cry, but at the same time wanting to punish you more for dangling something as tempting as a baby in his face. That was a bridge too far for him, offering up that false hope when he knows there's little to no chance of it ever happening.

It's not something he shares with many people. It was a stupid accident during training that resulted in an internal injury that gave way to infection. It was just a little lump in his ball sack and a low-grade fever, but the doc delivered the devastating news once the infection was cleared up. Scarring in the tubes that deliver his sperm. He's shooting blanks, essentially.

He watches you bump into a couple entering the shop, hears your teary apology as you push past them, sees you throw up your hand to deflect the rain. His eyes catch on your brolly leaning in the corner and he snatches it up, opening his mouth to call after you, but you're already out the door and hurrying away before he can even get to his feet. It's not raining too hard, but you'll probably end up soaked through in no time, running out without your umbrella. Didn't even bother putting on your bloody coat before running away.

From him.

His hand clenches around the umbrella, the thin metal spines creaking, then he releases a breath, his grip easing. As fast as it surged through him, his anger is already beginning to ebb, the feeling replacing it making his shoulders slump in abject defeat. Disappointment hangs like a shroud around him, his elation at finding you again leaving a bitter taste in his mouth now.

He thought the universe had seen fit to give him a second chance, bringing you back into his orbit. He'd hardly been able to think of anything else but you for the last five months, only to be confronted with the reality of the woman he'd so badly misjudged. And to think, he went back to that club every night for two weeks in the hopes of seeing you again, cursing his luck when he was deployed and had to leave. He should count it as a blessing that you never showed. Still, it stings, the loss of that hope.

Pushing away from the table, he stands, ignoring the stares and whispers as he takes up his dry-cleaning bag and your umbrella then heads towards the entrance himself. Once out on the sidewalk, he can't stop himself from staring off in the direction you went, but he doesn't spot you among the crowd. Ignoring the twinge of guilt he feels, he turns in the opposite direction and walks away.

part 2 | part 4

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz cod #call of duty #gaz mw2 #cod mw2

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destielbeatlesminibang · 2 days

Text

Title: Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You

Author: tfw_cas

Artist: golby moon

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Dean Winchester has been secretly in love with his college roommate and best friend Cas for years, but he’s convinced Cas doesn’t feel the same.

When he’s offered a teaching position thousands of miles away, he sees it as an opportunity to be closer to his brother... and maybe give himself some distance from his feelings for Cas. After all, it’s not like they can’t still be friends.

But things go badly when Cas finds out, and Dean's not sure their friendship is going to survive. And as for his dreams coming true... Well, those are just lyrics, right?

Tags: Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Idiots In Love, Mild Angst, Everyone Knows Dean and Cas Are In Love Except Dean and Cas Past Dean/Benny, Dean Winchester Can Sing In This Fic, Karaoke, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss

Posting on June 28

Keep reading for a short excerpt.

“Oh, hi, Principal Mills, this is Dean Winchester. I'm calling to accept your job offer.”

The words stuck in his throat as he suddenly became aware that the door was open, and Cas was standing there with his hand still on the handle. From the look on his face, he’d obviously heard everything Dean had said.

Dean grimaced at his friend, who walked into the room without a word, sat on his bed, and stared at the floor as Dean continued his conversation with Principal Mills. The rest of the conversation was mercifully short, and once the principal had promised to email Dean all the necessary documents, she ended the call.

Dean put the phone down slowly and cleared his throat. “Hey, Cas, um… sorry you found out like that. I promise, I was gonna tell you next. And y'know… California isn't so far away.”

“California?” Cas gasped out in surprise, and yeah… of course he didn’t know that part yet, did he?

Dean really couldn’t be handling the situation any worse, and he mentally facepalmed as he tried to think of something to say to soften the blow. His brain was being super unhelpful though, and Cas spoke again before he could.

“You don’t owe me anything, Dean.” Cas finally looked at Dean and attempted a smile. It was as unconvincing as his words, and for a second Dean wondered if Sam was right about Cas hoping they could move in together… That was until Cas said something which blew that theory out of the water.

“I also applied for a job at the college.” He gestured around himself to indicate their college. “I’m just waiting to hear back from them.”

“They’d be idiots if they offered it to anyone else,” Dean said, as reassuringly as he could manage, despite the sentiment ringing hollowly to his own ears.

Cas got to his feet and headed back over to the door. He turned around before leaving, and Dean could see that his jaw was clenched, and when he spoke his voice sounded emotionless. “Thank you, and congratulations on your new job. I just remembered I promised to help another student with an assignment, so I should go.”

With that Cas rushed out of the room, leaving Dean staring at the door. His heart felt like someone had stuck a knife in it, but at least he could say he knew exactly where he stood with Cas.

#destiel #supernatural #the beatles #destiel beatles minibang

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