#quote fic

[latuarts]

your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams, your voice it chased away all the sanity in me.

a chronicle of the stars. / my immortal.

[horror-theorist]

A prize for you! (Ink Demonth Day 1)

“Are you sure you need to win this? It’s just a stupid plush.” 

“It’s not just a stupid plush! I’ve been wanting to get this plush for years! It’s the only one I don’t have!” You glared a little bit at your close friend, you had both managed to grab a few tickets to BendyLand for a few days where you were hoping to finally gain a Bendy plush, you already had Boris, Alice and the Butcher Gang. You were excited to finally come to the theme park. Even if it wasn’t the safest or the cheapest place to spend your time at. You didn’t care though, you had been in love with with the cartoons for years now. It was money well spend. 

“Can’t you just order it online? It can’t be that hard to find one, just look on Ebay or something.”

“No. They don’t do them anywhere else, moron, it’s a BendyLand exclusive plush! I need to win it!”

“Alright, well, the line is moving up now, y’know so hurry up.”

...

“What if someone wins it before me?”

A shrug, they didn’t seem to care too much, looking down at their phone, probably scrolling down through their social media and absent mindedly walking forwards with the queue. The pair of you had been in this line a good few times now.

It took you a few minutes to reach the front of the line, the person manning the stall, raised an eyebrow as the pair of you reached the front of the line for the sixth time that evening.

“You two again?” The guy looked at you and then at your best friend before shrugging, “I guess you guys like this stall.”

“I’m just trying to win something.” You explained, trailing off as you noticed that nobody seemed too intrested in what you had to say.

The man at the stall passed you a few balls to knock pins over, you aimed, waiting a few seconds to let the suspence fuel you before letting go, letting the ball fly across the air before

“Oh! Miss! Sorry, Mx. Looks like you’ve missed again,” The stallmanager had a slight mock in his tone before he shrugged, “Maybe seventh times a charm.”

Your friend grabbed your hand, “C’mon, let’s go try something else.”

You looked back at the stall, staring wistfully at the lone Bendy plush that sat on the stall, begging you to win it, its soulless eyes stared at you, it almost seemed to be begging you to win your prize

But inanimate objects can’t stare, right? They don’t have souls

Right?

Looks like you’re not winning any prizes today

Better luck next time! 

[guiltypleasurefandomface]

Roger: How's the patient?

John: *glaring*

Roger: If the wind changes, your face will stick like that

Freddie: Be nice! We were nice to you when you were sick last month.

Roger: No you were not! You told me if I was still throwing up by the Thursday you'd replace me with a circus monkey!

Freddie: That was motivation, dear, and it worked

Roger: It didn't work! Science worked! Medicine worked!

Freddie: The nearest thing you had to medicine, my dear, was a questionable hot toddy and that only made you sicker

Roger: I... yeah alright I'll give you that. But that was because I had the gastric flu, and I was only sick for the duration of the virus, not because you wished me better or anything. *to John* Seriously though, how are you?

John: *Glares*

Freddie: He still can't talk. The doctor says it's laryingitis and it could be another two days after the antibiotics start working.

Roger: I'm sorry, that's awful. *To Freddie* No wonder it's so quiet around here, the difference is deafening.

John's glare intensifies

Freddie: Roger, darling, when John's body stops aching he's going to murder you and I will not protect you.

Roger: I'm sorry, I'm only trying to make you laugh. Okay, look, I brought all the ingredients of a hot toddy, which won't make you sick because you have the garden variety flu, not the gastric flu like I did, and if you're feeling up to it, I've got change in my pocket for a very hot curry for all of us. That'll scare the snot right out of you.

John looks interested.

Roger: See, I do care about you!

John nods.

Roger: Of course, I won't take the blame if it gives you the runs.

Freddie: Oh, Roger

John goes back to glaring at Roger.

[pressedinthepages]

Intertwine

fun fic inspired by the shenanigans in @continentcakeshop , prompted with quotes from @major-trouble #155, #371, and #11 :D

Relationships: Geralt & Jaskier, Eskel & Valdo, Lambert & Essi, Geralt & Eskel & Lambert, Jaskier & Valdo & Essi

Rating: T

Content Warnings: little bit of bardic teasing, but that's about it. just silliness. one innuendo if you squint. can be read as platonic or romantic.

Summary: Three bards bring three Witchers to a festival.

“You have friends?” Geralt grumbled, leaning back in the shade.

Jaskier scoffed. “Well, of course I have friends.”

“That you don’t sleep with?”

“Now, I never said that-“

“Pankratz!” A young man with bright auburn curls strode over to them, clapping Jaskier heartily on the shoulder. “Been a time.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, though a fond smirk played on his lips. “Valdo. I’ve heard time is relative, though honestly, it’s no relation of mine. It seems far too soon since we’ve crossed paths last.”

As the two bards happily crossed barbs back and forth, Geralt furrowed his brow at a familiar scent on the air. Honey, mulling spices, silver.

The scars on Eskel’s cheek warped as he smiled, and Geralt surged forward to meet him halfway into a bone-crushing hug. “‘Lo, Wolf. You look well.”

Geralt chuckled and pulled back, unable to help the soft smile from breaking over his lips. “Eskel. What brings you to the bardic festival?”

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, “That one.” He pointed to Valdo, still bickering with Jaskier and playing with the long feather on the latter’s flouncy hat.

Geralt cocked his brow and Eskel shrugged, their golden eyes flitting back and forth between the two bards. “I can’t tell if Jaskier actually likes him or not.”

“‘Course he does, they’ve known each other for ages,” Eskel cleared his throat and leaned back next to Geralt on the wall. “Valdo wouldn’t shut up about him on our way here.”

“Sounds familiar,” Geralt groused, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence as their companions reacquainted themselves with each other. That is, until a new wave of shimmery golden hair marched its way between the two bards, a lute strung over her back as well.

“Oh no no no, I think the fuck not,” she hissed through her teeth, shoving her pointer finger just shy of Valdo’s nose, “I’ll not have you making those lovey eyes at him after the last time we were all together.”

Jaskier laughed and rested his hand lightly on the woman’s shoulder. “Essi, relax. All’s well. I promise you. But I shall find you if I fear for my honor, or my bollo-“

“With all due respect, which truly should be none after you’ve accosted me so severely,” Valdo rolled his eyes, “it is good to see you here as well, darling.”

The young woman, Essi, apparently, stepped aside and wrapped her arms around both Jaskier and Valdo. “I’ve missed you both terribly, even if you two are royal pains in my ass.”

Geralt shook his head just as Eskel perked up. “What the-“

Then it hit him. Pine, sea salt, silver.

“Son of a bitch,” a raspy voice called over, and Geralt could practically hear the cock-sure smirk on his face. Eskel pushed himself away from the wall and over towards the newcomer, tall and lean with dark slicked back hair, two swords strewn over his back.

“Lambert! Never thought I’d see your sorry face at a place like this,” Eskel hugged him, patting him hard on the back.

“Alright big guy,” Lambert gave him a solid squeeze before waving to Geralt, “fancy running into the two of you here.”

“Let me guess,” Geralt sighed, “she’s your bard?”

Lambert nodded and rested his hands on his hips. “Yup. Met her a while back, been traveling together whenever we can for a few weeks at a time. She’s fun. Bit odd, but hey. So’s yours.”

Geralt hummed and Eskel laughed, now all intently watching the three bards smile and tease at each other with the ease of ages behind them.

“Would it be terribly narcissistic to quote myself?” Essi adjusted the top button of Valdo’s doublet, her fingers just barely ghosting over his skin. “For I feel certain that I said that you should wear sage more often. And here we are, with you looking like a carrot.”

Valdo gasped, “How dare! Just because I have red hair-“

“No, you nincompoop,” Jaskier tutted, playing idly with a ringlet of Essi’s hair, “she’s saying your doublet’s a brighter orange than the citrus in Toussaint.”

“Ah.” Valdo rocked back on his heels and looked around sheepishly, spotting the three Witchers off to the side. Geralt groaned internally, knowing exactly what was coming next. “Oh come on over here, I couldn’t imagine not spending this festival with us.”

Formal introductions were made before the bards whisked off towards the performance stage, followed leisurely by the Witchers as they found a spot to sit in the shade beneath a great tree. Essi strode onto the stage, her dress swirling ethereally around her ankles, and began to play a quiet, soft tune to warm her audience up.

“So,” Geralt hummed to Lambert, “How’s she been travelling?”

“She’s been great. She really can take care of herself, and like I said. Bards are fun.”

Eskel smirked and shouldered Geralt, “Oh yeah. Real fun, until they sleep with the alderman’s brother. Or wife. Or both.”

The three Witchers laughed as the sun began to set, allowing the six lives to intertwine under the star-studded sky.

[your-worst-knightmare]

I’ll Love You (As Misfortune Loves Orphans)

The Gotham wind howled at the rooftops. Away from the constant noise of traffic, it almost sounded like the cry of a mourning woman. Gotham was mourning, but for what? the loss of her innocence, or perhaps what her children had done to her. The wind was harsh on those autumn nights, and was cold and unforgiving. Gotham’s children knew that chill better than they had known full stomachs and warm bones. It was cold, it certainly was at the heights of those lonely rooftops, and yet– yet all Jason felt was heat. 

It built inside of him like a a roaring furnace, fuelling him. Not to fight a crusade for Gotham. Jason lived and breathed Gotham, and he knew that her saviour was not one man fighting symptoms of a virus that had long since taken root. He wasn’t that man. God, no. 

He was not as frivolous as that. He was the protector of those not able to protect themselves from the symptoms of Gotham’s disease. He was rage. It warmed him, burned him as he grappled from building to building. He was immune to Gotham’s icy howls, if only for tonight. 

Tonight, he was taking down one of Gotham’s drug trafficking rings. Well, taking out. He wasn’t going to kill anyone– he had obliged to the Bat’s rules to play nice– but he had not consented to no explosions. That would thoroughly set back their progress and give the Red Hood some time to convince them to play by his rules. 

Jason dropped to the ground silently, slipping pat perimeter guards. There weren’t as many as usual tonight, so he had less to worry about if things went south. The few guards that had noticed him were quieted with the butt of his gun to their heads. He made his way around the compound, planting explosives as he went. After planting the last one, he decided to make himself known to give the guards some chance of coming out of that compound alive. If they didn’t, well, collateral damage. 

“Awful weather we’re having, am I right?” he called, swinging into the guards’  line of sight. The noticed him immediately, shouting at each other to call for backup. He let them chase him, let them get too close before he vaulted away again. It was almost a game, and hey, if he was saving these poor dolts while doing it, why couldn’t it be? His job was done, and he figured that toying with some goons once in a while wasn’t a crime. “I noticed you’ve got some heating in this place. How much does it cost at this end of the city?”  

His response came in the form of a bullet grazing his shoulder. Jason growled. Fine. He’ll be serious and leave. They had more than enough time by now. “I hope you fools like the present I left ‘ya.”  He pointed his grapple at the nearest rooftop and sailed away, gunfire peppering his departure. 

Then, three things happened at once. Or rather, in such close proximity to each other that it seemed like it. One: Jason activated the detonator. Two: A bullet ripped through his abdomen– a lucky shot.  Three: He fell. The ground raced to meet him, and he met it, with a sickening thud. 

Now a different fire ran through him, alongside the rage that previously burned. This was blinding and invited dark spots to dance in his vision. It was consuming, and there was nothing other than its presence. It was agony, and it was deafening as it screamed at him. Jason cursed under his breath. The goons had gotten lucky. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be following him. He grunted, pushing himself against the alley wall. That brought a whole new array of colours into is vision. He bit out more curses through the pain.

Once situated as comfortably as possible in his situation against the alley wall, he sucked in some air. He needed to assess his injuries and work from there. That’s what B always said to do. The most pressing matter was his side. His hands were sticky with blood from pressing the wound, but it didn’t help much. The liquid still spilled onto the floor of the alleyway, creating a growing puddle. That definitely was not good. His vision still was hazy, but he suspected it was from blood loss rather than a concussion. He tried moving his legs, only to let out a fresh string of curses. Ow, that was not happening.  Yeah, not a good idea. His best guess was that his left leg was most likely broken. 

He needed to get medical help. His bike– which was parked several blocks away– was out of the question. No way could he use a grappling hook with so much blood loss. He really wished he’d finished installing that comm unit in his helmet– he could maybe call someone for help. But that wasn’t an option. He was stuck in an alleyway, with a broken leg, alone and bleeding out. Just great. 

His eyes flitted up to the sky. It was clear and cloudless, not that you would be able to make out any stars in Gotham’s polluted air. But the moon. The moon was bright against that dark drapery of night, and its slivery glow cast onto Jason’s injured body. It didn’t help his headache. He tried angling his face away from it only to hiss in pain. 

Jason groaned. Well, he couldn’t just sit here and go quietly. He steeled himself and gripped the wall in an attempt to stand up. It was dizzying and hurt like hell, but he grit his teeth and stood. Good, he thought. Now, one step at a time. One, two. One, two. One– he fell to the ground with a crashing thud. 

Well, isn’t this a fun day, he grumbled. He regrettably (because ow) crawled back to the wall. He needed to get someone’s attention. Hell, he was desperate at this point. Superman would even do. Was he off-planet?  It was worth a try. He tried speaking but was cut off by a bout of coughing. That did not make his side any happier. He opened the front of his helmet the let himself breathe. Sucking in all the breath his lungs could hold, he yelled. “Superman!” 

Jason waited. Nothing. Wonderful. He pressed his head against the cold concrete of the alley wall, trying to clear his head. If only he weren’t so tired. Two minutes, he promised himself. Two minutes to rest before he tried again. 

He closed his eyes. Of course, he knew that if he drifted off completely, he may not wake up. If that were to happen, Jason wondered who would be tasked with writing his second obituary. He’d better be getting a new headstone for what it’s worth as well. 

His train of thought came crashing to a stop when he heard a familiar low rumble. An engine, he realized. Aw hell. Those goons might’ve finally tracked him down. He cracked an eyelid open to catch a glimpse of the new visitor. He didn’t see anyone. Wait, no– he craned his neck, finally sighting the vehicle. 

The Batmobile. He never thought he’d be so happy to smell its nasty fumes. B must have used the rockets on the back. Speaking of which, where was the Dark Knight?

He opened his other eye to find Batman. Jason let out a breathy chuckle. “Hey, B-man.” God, talking hurt. Batman grunted. 

“Let’s get you in the car, Jay-lad.” 

With hissing and cursing thought would have cost him fifty bucks in Alfred’s swear jar, the two made it to the car. “‘M gonna bleed all over your seats, B,” Jason warned, if not a little weakly. Batman ignored him. He braced himself as the car pulled onto the main streets, rocketing towards the Cave.  

_______________

Jason must have passed out at some point because he woke up in the damp air of the Cave. The cot he lay on was all too familiar from his Robin days, but he was secretly a little grateful that he didn’t have to take care of himself. Thankfully, his side had been cleaned and bandaged and his leg set while he was out. He figured that Bruce must have slipped some sedatives into the IV that stood beside him. That would explain why his head felt so light, and his eyes felt so heavy. He gave into its lulling numbness and slept. 

Bruce was with him the next time he awoke. He looked like he’d been sitting there a long time, which was silly. Bruce clearly had better things to do. “How are you feeling, Jay?” 

He shrugged or tried to, rather. Either way, Bruce got the message. “How’d you find me?” he croaked. 

“I saw the explosion. Heard you a few minutes later.” 

“How’d you know it was me?”Bruce stopped. 

“Jason, I’d know your voice anywhere,” he said, carding his fingers through Jason’s hair. 

Jason couldn’t find the incentive to berate him for the action. Silence filled the cave once again as Jason thought. Was the Cave always this gaping? “Why’d you come?” he finally asked. His voice was as quiet as the dark crevices of the Cave.  

“What are you talking about?” Bruce countered, looking bewildered. “Why wouldn’t I come? You’re my son, Jay.”

 “But the whole thing after… after I came back… and with Tim…” He studied the wrinkled fabric of the blanket that covered him, trying to hold back the tears that threatened his vision. “I tried to kill all of you, Bruce. How could… how could you want me back?” His final words came tumbling out.

“Oh, Jason…” Bruce murmured, enveloping the boy in his arms. They might have had their differences, but when all was said and done, at the end of the day, Jason was his son. “ You know, there’s this quote Dick likes to say,” he started. He cleared his throat dramatically and continued in his best impression of what had to be Stitch. “ ‘Ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.’” 

Jason groaned into Bruce’s shirt. “You’re the worst.” 

Bruce chuckled, hugging Jason’s head closer. “I mean it, Jay. No matter what happens, I’m not going to stop loving or worrying over you.” 

“It’s not me you should be worried about B,” Jason said, suddenly mischievous. “I think I might call Disney to sue you for copyright violations.” 

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” Bruce feigned a look of betrayal.”Because I can and will buy Disney if that’s the case.” 

Jason flopped back onto the cot, a grin shining through the tears that still lingered. “Nah. On grounds of loving you and all that.”

“Get some rest, Jay,” Bruce said, patting his son’s shoulder. “You don’t have to, but  I’d appreciate if you stayed here for a while, at least until you heal up.”

The boy considered it. Then he remembered: Alfred’s cooking his whole stay? Hell yes. “Okay, I’ll stay.”  

Bruce smiled. Misfortune might love his children, but he loved them more. 

[ineffable-witchiness]

Imagine Aziraphale puts this quote up outside the bookshop one day and Crowley doesn’t notice...until he does

Crowley - *bursting into the bookshop in a panic* “Angel! Where are you?” *having flashbacks of the fire* “Aziraphale!” *he slumps (only slightly) in relief at the sight of his angel, visibly intact*

Aziraphale - currently attempting to stop help a customer purchase a book, before turning to him - “Yes dear? What it is?” *sees Crowley who is flustered and heaving* “Are you alright darling? What has you in such a tizzy?”

Crowley - “What is with that bloody quote outside?! Did Heaven send someone to hurt you? Was it Gabriel? No, he doesn’t have the guts. It was Sandalphon again, wasn’t it?! I’ll kill him!” *avoiding eye contact and ignoring Aziraphale’s protests, he steps around Aziraphale and begins examining his back, as if he can make his wings (wing?) manifest if only he glares hard enough*

Aziraphale - *trying to assuage Crowley’s fears* “Crowley I’m fi-“ *he quickly realizes that Crowley isn’t listening to him and just has his hands, moving frantically, hovering over the angel’s back as if scared to touch - “Darling. Crowley listen to me.” *turning around rather abruptly and grabbing Crowley’s hands firmly (but gently) with his own* “Crowley!”

Crowley - *stops his wild hovering and finally looks his angel in the eye* *softly* “I’ll kill them. Anyone who touches you.” *slightly calmer, he reaches out for his angel’s face* “Are you alright?”

Aziraphale - *quickly checks to make sure no one is in the bookstore or browsing outside the display window before manifesting his wing(s)* “Yes my dear. I’m perfectly alright.”

Crowley - *enraptured by the sight of both of his angel’s beautiful snow-white wings, he reaches out and strokes them* “Then why would you put that quote up? You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought-“ * panic settles heavily upon his features again*

Aziraphale, softly - “Hey now.” *guides the demon to his favorite reading chair in the back, after putting his wings away* “My love, you only read half of the quote before you jumped to conclusions and rushed in here like a madman.”

Crowley - *quickly turning a lovely shade of crimson* “I didn’t kn-“ *Aziraphale interrupts him*

Aziraphale - “If you had just used reason and shifted to the other side of the shop you would have seen the rest.” *Aziraphale pauses to look exasperatingly at the demon* “I mean. That was so obviously only a piece of the phrase. The quote is by a poet by the name of Luciano De Crescenzo.” *pauses, once again, to kneel down in front of the chair and look his demon in the eye* “The full quote is, “We are each of us angel’s with only one wing,” *Aziraphale grasps Crowley hands again, mirroring what he had done just moments before when attempting to calm him, and adds emphasis to the following words* and we can only fly by embracing one another.”

Crowley - “Oh.”

Aziraphale - “Yes, “oh” you daft bloody idiot.”

“He wrote that about us, you know. He saw us having a picnic beside that wonderful pond in Italy, do you remember? *Crowley nods* “He later approached me and told me that he had seen us sitting there, so content with eachother. And we were seated so close to one another that, for a moment, the sunlight caught one of each of our wings and he somehow caught a glimpse of them, thankfully he said he believed he had imagined them out of awe of the love he felt, but I digress. I had completely forgotten about that moment until last week, when I was reading a book of Italian poetry and I came across the poem. He must have written it sometime after seeing us together. So I knew I had to display it for all to see.”

Crowley, still slightly flushed, gets up from the chair to pace the room - *quietly* “I thought- I thought you were upset with me that day.” *Aziraphale gapes at him* “I had seen a man come up to you and after he walked away, you came back over to me but...something had changed, you became distant. I thought it was something I did.”

Aziraphale, follows after Crowley and takes his hands for the third time that day - “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to be distant or cause you to feel at fault. I was shocked at that man’s words. I was embarrassed that the man, a human, could feel the love I had been emitting for you, and myself, an angel, a being designed entirely of love, had not noticed. I fear that I have been doused in my love for you for so long...that I didn’t truly realize that the random flashes of love I had been getting, were coming from within, until that moment. I didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable, because now that I was aware of it, it felt as though you could suddenly feel it too. *Crowley tries to speak but Aziraphale raises a hand* “I know as a demon you are not supposed to feel the love around us like I do. But if a human, a human, Crowley! If a human could feel it, could see it, if only for a moment? Then why not the one person it was meant for? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

*Aziraphale attempts to pull away from Crowley but the demon grabs him by the waist and pulls him flush against his own body*

Crowley, looking Aziraphale in the eye - “Aziraphale. My angel. I have been in love with you from the moment I met you.”

The end.

[lifeasitis21]

When You Leave

He watched you from his chair on the other side of the room, the fabric worn from where he rested his arm. As if he were persuading you with his eyes, he kept on staring. Just waiting for you to speak.

“There’s no reason for this.”

I wish, he had said, I wish you would think about this reasonably.

Reasonably. As if this were something to be argued. As if this was something you could control.

Why couldn’t it be. You begged of yourself to answer what seemed such a simple question as you began to shrink and shrink under his gaze.

“I’m not rushing you.” he said, in hopes it would rush you to a definitive answer.

If you could place  a hand to his chest, let your emotions flow through you and into him, god you would. You would give anything, anything for him to understand what you felt, how hard it was for you to fight against what seemed to be the only solution to everything that was Henry.

I am hopelessly and agonizingly in love with you, seemed too intense. Like things you’d read in stories. Even thinking it felt like you were reaching into the depths of your memory and grabbing hold of words others before you had already said, feelings already felt. You were not your memories.

You looked up at him again, knowing the only thing your eyes said was I am lost.

It was the reason you were here and the reason you wanted to leave.

“Everything became yours!” he would plead. “The moment you stepped through the door I bared myself to you, gave everything I had ever been and promised everything I ever would be.”

It would just be a spiral of emotions, you thought. But the alternative was breaking his heart. Something you’d never done before, or at least not without thoroughly making amends afterwards.

But Henry, he was the problem. There would be no second chance at friendship. You’d never even known each other as such. If you left now, there would be no coming back.

“Stay with me, Y/n. Give me the time to show you everything I can offer you.”

“Well I think that’s the problem.” You said, surprising yourself. “You could offer the world and it wouldn’t mean a thing, cause I’m not ready to--I wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

I love you. But that’s not enough yet.

Should you even say it, now, after so little time was it really worth saying three little words if the emotional baggage that came along with them was more than either of you could carry? It didn’t seem worth it. You weren’t even sure if you did. But you did.

“I wish, that we had met at a different time. That things would have lined up.”

He knew what that meant.

“I--I’m sorry. But I think we both know, this was...a dream.”

Like they’d snapped at him when you spoke, his left eye flinched at your words, just barely. Enough for you to wish you could take it all back.

That was it. That was the last thing he would hear on the subject. You saw it in his eyes, you knew it was within yours as well. 

He stood as you did. Watched you and waited for your movement. When you took a step towards the door he followed, mirroring every move, as if by doing so he could somehow trap your existence within his heart. And maybe your body would be gone, but your soul, or what little he had of it, would stay here with him. Live on with him, comfort him.

Some things are more precious because they don’t last long, and he knew that. He’d lived by those words for so long he forgot where they came from. But now, looking at you for the last time, loving you for the last time, he’d never believed so deeply, so earnestly, that he would of given anything in that moment to hold onto you a little longer.

He waited for you to turn a few steps away, and when you did it was like that image was forever frozen in his mind. 

There was nothing more you could or needed to say. But you wouldn’t be able to take another step if you didn’t see his face just once more. 

He caught your eye, smiled as if he were only saying goodbye for now, and slowly nodded his head. Letting you go, but not without his unspoken promise  that with you, you would also take his soul, because he couldn’t help but know it belonged to you.

[beautifultimesofbrooklynndean]

First quote fic

“This isn’t a negotiation.” Castiel x Reader smut

The hunt had been so horrific, the week so brutal, that (y/n) longed for the feel of the hotel’s cheap, scratchy bed.

She couldn’t wait to prop her feet up, watch crappy cable, and fall asleep knowing that tomorrow someone’s life didn’t rely on her.

As she opened the door and stepped inside, she frowned to see that the guys weren’t back yet.

“One quick beer, my ass,” she laughed, thankful that she opted out of celebrating their victory at the local bar.

After ensuring that the door was closed and locked, she began to strip, leaving a trail of disheveled garments from the bed to the bathroom entrance.

Turning on the shower, she peered over her bare shoulder, wondering why she hadn’t heard the familiar sound of rustling feathers yet.

“Hm,” she shrugged, stepping into the tiny shower and pulling the curtain closed, “Suit yourself.”

Just then, a gust of wind ruffled the curtain, pushing it against her dampened skin. It felt cold and harsh, and she felt slightly dirty in touching it, but it was quickly ripped away from her body. Castiel’s grace sent the curtain flying across the small bathroom, droplets of water flying through the air as it moved.

“Cas,” she grinned, stepped toward the edge of the shower.

“You know I don’t like it in there,” he smirked, a mischievous look in his bright blue eyes.

“You know I do,” she challenged playfully, flicking her hand against the stream of water and splashing Castiel’s trench coat.

He looked down at the dampened spots, brushing the remnant of water away, and then peeling the coat away from his body.

“Turn it off,” he said sternly.

“You turn it off,” she said, stepping back away from the faucets.

“This isn’t a negotiation, (y/n),” Castiel growled, “Turn it off, and get out of there.”

“If you want me out, get me out,” she taunted.

“You know I’m an angel, (y/n),” he whispered, raising his right hand as his left began to loosen his tie, “I can, and I certainly will.”

“You don’t scare me, Cas,” she smirked.

He simply grinned.

“Cas,” (y/n) exhaled deeply as she felt her body sink onto the bed. “God, I love when you do that.”

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name,” Castiel replied, bending over her body and placing a tender kiss to her thigh. “I had full intentions of pleasuring you this evening, but now I’m not so sure you deserve it.”

“Cas, don’t tease,” she squirmed a bit, longing for another angelic touch.

He smiled, climbing onto the bed, and lowering his lips once more.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he whispered as tongue slipped through his lips and brushed against her sensitive spot.

“Cas, oh, g–”

“Mm,” he smiled victoriously as she stopped herself, “Good girl.”

Leaning into flesh, Castiel licked a slow, painfully pleasurable trail from her slick opening to her clit, stopping there to apply pressure. As his tongue moved against her center, (y/n) gasped, reaching out to his raven locks and pulling them tightly.

As he pleasured her, Castiel removed his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and began to work on his belt. Just as it opened, the hotel door swung open as well, and the angel used his grace to cover (y/n) with the bedsheet before Sam or Dean could focus their eyes enough to see anything.

“Woah,” Dean said simply, his pouty lips forming a confused O.

He looked up to his brother whose eyes flashed around the room awkwardly.

“Um, guys, I… We, uh… Well, shit, man, I don’t even know what to say here,” Dean laughed, “An angel. Cas. Cas, angel of the lord, Castiel is… He’s having sex.”

“With (y/n),” Sam added.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled again, “Alright, well, we’ll just leave you two crazy kids to it then.”

“Yeah,” Sam turned to follow him as Dean closed the door.

“Well, that was… Awkward,” Castiel looked to (y/n).

“Yeah, so awkward. I feel so dirty… Probably best to get a shower,” she said, popping up from the bed, laughing.

“I don’t think so,” Castiel wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back into the bed, “You know I don’t like being wet.”

“Well, I do,” she grinned suggestively.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed, “I dried you completely earlier.”

she chuckled again, kissing the confused angel, “No, Cas, you actually do the opposite of that.”