Pairing: Castiel x fem!Reader
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 1 172
Warnings: none
Summary: Castiel likes the smell of your shampoo
Prompts: favourite scent
A/N: first time I’m actually publishing something with Cas, although he’s one of the first characters I ever wrote for (along with Spencer Reid and Sam Winchester)
It was unusual for Castiel to take a room at a motel, and even more unusual for him to take a shower, yet here you were, sitting in his room, listening to the running water behind the closed bathroom door.
Did… did the angel even know how to use shampoo and soap, you wondered. The latest mission had been a bloodbath, and while you had been sitting in a diner where Sam and Dean had dropped you off due to a twisted ankle, Cas had returned looking like he had taken several mud and blood baths, while still fully clothed.
He had snapped his fingers and removed all the dirt off his body and clothes, but you still had insisted he should take a shower, and he had understood it as he should take a shower in your room.
Well, there were worse things.
And as an angel he probably didn’t mind that your shampoo which you had offered to him smelled of grapefruit and not of something manly like… mountain smoke or something.
The TV was running in the background, but you hadn’t been paying any attention to the program, your focus instead on the grey trench coat Castiel had discarded on one of the beds.
Eventually curiosity got the better of you and you got up, limping over, to the coat and lifting it up. It was heavier than it looked, you realised, the fabric smooth under your fingertips and it smelled… of nothing really. Hm, you had always assumed it would smell like Castiel by now, but maybe he didn’t have a proper scent about himself. He was a celestial being after all. But what about his vessel?
Before you could continue wondering any longer, the sound of water getting turned off in the bathroom alarmed you, and you dropped the coat back onto the bed and limped over to your chair.
A moment later, Cas opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out. He was dressed completely in his suit again, making you assume he had put it on with a snap of his fingers. Did the angel even know how to tie a tie? He looked strangely… naked without his coat on. That was when you saw his hair was still dripping wet.
“Did you not dry your hair,” you asked, with furrowed brows as Cas stepped out of the bathroom and begun crossing the room.
“I like the smell,” he said, making you furrow your brows even further.
“Of your wet hair?”
“Your shampoo,” he corrected. “I don’t want it to go away. It’s my favourite scent.”
“It won’t go away from you drying your hair,” you told him, getting up again and limping over to the angel. “Did you even wash out the shampoo?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to.”
“Because of the scent?”
Castiel nodded only.
“Want me to help you dry your hair,” you offered even though you knew he could probably just snap his fingers and his hair would be perfectly dry and styled.
“Please,” Cas answered to your surprise and sat down on the bed, patiently waiting for you to grab a towel from the bathroom. You knelt on the bed behind him and wrapped it around his head, rubbing over his dark hair.
It felt strange, feeling how alive he was underneath your hands, and it was even stranger considering it was Castiel, who always behaved so coldly and redrawn from normal life.
“So… you like grapefruit,” you asked, trying to break the growing silence by smalltalk.
“Not especially,” Castiel answered, sounding indifferent as always.
“Hm? I thought it was your favourite scent,” you inquired.
“Not grapefruit, your shampoo,” Cas corrected you.
“But it is grapefruit scented.”
“I don’t like it because it’s grapefruit, I like it because it’s what you always smell like,” he explained, making you freeze. What? “I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”
“No, not… not uncomfortable,” you disagreed, slowly continuing to rub the cheap hotel towel over Castiel’s hair. “Just… surprised.”
“Why would you be surprised,” he asked curiously. “I thought it was rather obvious that I feel attracted to you.”
“Not really, no,” you admitted, trying to think of any time the angel may have expressed attraction towards you.
That time he had beamed you wordlessly back to the motel room you had shared with Sam and Dean after you had been stranded at the side of a road? The time he had woken you up, showed you that he had bought you pie and then had disappeared? Or the countless times he had woken you up from a beginning nightmare? It would be a lie to claim these instances hadn’t raised your interest in him, but it had never occurred to you, that he might have done it out of a special feeling of care towards you.
Castiel sat quietly for a while before asking: “Does it bother you?”
“Does what bother me,” you asked back.
“That I care for you.”
For a moment, you thought his words through. Castiel was an angel, and even though he had lived amongst humans for a while now, he still sometimes struggled with the nuances of human communication.
“You care for Sam and Dean, too,” you eventually answered, still not entirely sure whether his understanding of ‘caring for someone’ had the same romantic meaning as yours. “So no, it doesn’t bother me.”
“It’s different,” Cas disagreed. “Yes, I look after Sam and Dean, I don’t want them to get hurt. But it’s different with you… It seems like you constantly occupy my mind and even the thought of the possibility of you getting hurt- it, it scares me.”
Slowly you let the towel you had used to rub his hair dry sink to his shoulders.
“I feel the same way about you,” you admitted, gently squeezing his shoulder.
Surprised he turned around to you. “You aren’t mad?”
“No,” you chuckled, looking down on him, his beautifully blue eyes widened and a hint of a smile tucking at his lip. “But I also don’t know what to do from here on out.”
“What do people usually do, who care for each other,” Cas asked, honest curiosity in his question.
“They… they start dating, I suppose,” you answered, absentmindedly running your hand through his hair. It was still not completely dry, but soft between your fingers.
“Then let’s do that,” Cas decided, smiling at you encouragingly.
“Do you even know what dating means,” you asked amused. Not the kind of conversation you had expected yourself to have tonight, but also not unwelcome.
Cas hummed thoughtfully, turning his head away from you and leaning back so his back was resting against your front. He was warm, even through his suit, and his hair smelled off your shampoo.
“I have a basic understanding of what dating includes,” he answered, “as for the rest,” he turned his head again, looking up to you sitting behind him, innocence but also a certain mischief displayed on his features, “I’ll just hope you’ll teach me.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki (TV 2021), Deadpool (Movieverse)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Loki/Sylvie (Loki TV)
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Sylvie (Loki TV), Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies), Wade Wilson, Cassandra Nova, Hunter B-15 (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Post-Season/Series 02, Movie: Deadpool 3: Deadpool & Wolverine (2024), rated high to be safe, the violence is not that graphic, POV Loki (Marvel), the Deadpool characters are barely in it, but the Deadpool movie is the whole context, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Loki as God of Stories (Loki TV)
Summary: Loki doesn’t know anything is wrong until he feels the timelines—all the timelines—start to die. (Or, what Deadpool & Wolverine might look like from Loki's point of view, brought to you by someone who's always looking for excuses to play with Loki whump.)
currently on a bit of a roll for actually finishing and posting short fics! this one is a late fill for a few different October challenges:
@whumptober 3: isolation
Whumptober 7: "Tell me that you're okay, and I'm fine."
Whumptober 31: bleeding out
@flufftober alt 12: keeping someone safe
@angstober 2: uncertain
Angstober 3: "Of course it's you."
contains : drinking , smoking , fluff with a little angst
work been kicking my ass, haven't been very motivated to write </3
JOHNNY WAS halfway through his third beer when the dizzy feeling settled in. He stumbled his way through the kitchen and out to the backyard. He hung his legs off the porch, inhaling the fresh air. It was too hot and way too crowded inside. He lay his cheek against his knee, eyes closing.
"Not the best place to sleep, Johnny." Dutch dropped down beside him, knocking against him. He smelled like vodka and oranges.
Johnny tilted his head just enough to look at him. "Not sleeping jus' restin' my eyes," He mumbled.
Dutch wrapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders and tugged him closer. His lips curled into the familiar smirk Johnny was used to seeing. "No I think you're tired. Getting too old to handle a party, hm?"
He rolled his eyes at Dutch's teasing, choosing to smack the boy's arm. "We're the same age asshole."
Dutch laughed, rubbing at his arm. "Well, drinking doesn't hinder your strength." He bumped their shoulders together. "Come on, we can go to my place. It will be quieter and have a better drink menu." Johnny truly wanted to be somewhere quieter, so he found himself agreeing.
Together the two left, a slight stumble in their steps as they walked. A breeze picked up, nipping at their exposed skin. Johnny could feel the blush settling on his face, cheeks bright pink.
Dutch shifted closer to him, his hand bumping against Johnny's. "S'cold.." He mumbled. Neither boy said anything as their fingers entwined. Dutch began to ramble about some comic he started. Though Johnny had a hard time focusing on his words. All he could focus on was Dutch's hand in his. It felt right. Their hands fit together so well. It was different compared to Allie's. Her hand was smaller and softer. Her nails were always perfectly done, coated in a pretty pink. Dutch's hand was bigger, rougher due to karate and all the fights he had been in. He could feel the raised skin from scars along the back of his hand. Yet he liked it. He liked holding Dutch's hand. Was he weird because of that? Dutch was one of his closest friends. He couldn't possibly like him.
"Johnny? Hello, earth to Johnny!" A smack to his shoulder had him returning to focus. He blinked at Dutch, glaring slightly. The other shrugged, smiling innocently. "What? You weren't answering. But we're here man."
Johnny looked up to the large house before them. The lights were on at the door but no car was seen. "My gran is on a trip. Just us here," Dutch explained. Johnny couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing yet.
He followed Dutch up the steps and inside. They kicked their shoes off at the door, Johnny left his neatly while Dutch left them sprawled out. Dutch led the way down the hall to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle from a cabinet shelf then turned to Johnny with that signature grin of his. One that usually meant trouble. "C'mon, I got something else too."
Johnny found himself in Dutch's bedroom sprawled on the floor as a movie played in the background. A blunt was passed back and forth between them. Johnny didn't smoke often, usually, he only did it with Dutch or Tommy. He had always preferred drinking. So his tolerance was low. The bottle of alcohol was eventually abandoned as the fuzzy feeling took over. He slumped back against the floor, tucking his arm under his head.
Dutch took the blunt to finish it off. His back was pressed against the bed, eyes looking down at Johnny. "Lightweight," he teased.
Johnny rolled his eyes, puffing out a breath. "Shut up," he mumbled. He shifted onto his side to look up at Dutch. "I don't understand how you can do that so much."
Dutch took a long drag, leaning down to blow the smoke into Johnny's face. His lashes fluttered, nose crinkling up. Dutch watched him. He had been doing that a lot lately. Johnny, no matter what, was constantly gaining his attention. "You're pretty." It was out before he could even think to stop himself. Johnny's eyes were back on him, wide with shock. Dutch took a moment before realizing what he did. Words stumbled incoherently from his lips trying to save himself. Johnny's laughter had him going quiet.
Johnny was smiling at him. His eyes were glazed but knowing. "You think I'm pretty Dutchy?" He fluttered his lashes intentionally.
The other boy groaned quick to look away. "You suck Johnny."
"And you think I'm pretty. Am I handsome too?"
He was teasing. Dutch knew he was yet he still found himself answering truthfully. He nodded. "Yeah, extremely so."
Johnny paused, eyes looking searchingly at Dutch. He knew Dutch was being honest but what did this mean? Where could it lead? "You mean it Dutch?"
He nodded, "I do."
Silence fell over them. Dutch looked away, twisting the bud between his fingers. He was scared. It was rare to see on Dutch. Johnny didn't like it. He shuffled to sit up, copying Dutch to lean back against the bed. He pressed their shoulders together. "I think you're handsome too," he confessed.
Dutch looked at him. "Yeah?"
Johnny moved his hand beside Dutch's. He entwined their pinkies, a soft smile on his lips. "Yeah."
Resume: Enid y Wednesday siguen compartiendo en su cuarto mientras continua el apagón.
___________________________
—Es un juego bastante simple— Wednesday dijo sinceramente cuando Enid le explicó el juego de adivinar las palabras sin hablar, solo debían representar el concepto mediante gestos, expresiones faciales y movimientos corporales.
—No lo creo, todo depende de la categoría que se elija—. Enid recientemente había añadido esa variación cuando se juntaba con Yoko y algunos de los “colmillos”.
—Eso ya se puede considerar un buen desafío—. A Wednesday nunca le agradaron los juegos con un bajo grado de dificultad.
—Bien, creo que debemos dejar afuera la categoría de las películas—. Enid ya estaba pensando cuál sería el concepto principal del juego.
—¿Cuál sería el motivo de esa restricción? — Wednesday preguntó con extrañeza.
—Seguramente solo estás interesada en los clásicos de terror o películas extranjeras del tipo documental —Enid hizo una pausa— y yo prefiero las románticas o las películas animadas, ninguna adivinaría y el juego se volvería monótono— Enid solo verbalizó sus conjeturas sobre Wednesday basándose en la mínima comunicación entre ellas.
—Estás en lo correcto—. Wednesday se sorprendió por la deducción de su compañera, acertó completamente.
—Ahora debemos pensar en un tema en común… No, los libros es una categoría complicada también—. Enid vio que Wednesday la interrumpiría y se adelantó en contestar.
—Entonces, ¿cuál es un tema común entre nosotras? — Wednesday difícilmente encontraría similitudes entre ellas.
—Déjame pensar…—. Enid cruzó sus brazos para concentrarse. Al cabo de unos minutos se le ocurrió un tema —¿Seres mitológicos? — Respondió con otra pregunta.
—Podría funcionar—. Wednesday le pareció un tema apropiado.
—Thing— Enid miró hacia el suelo —¿Volverías a cronometrar las respuestas? — Thing respondió con el simple gesto de levantar su pulgar nuevamente.
—Eso no estaba en tu explicación—. Wednesday protestó.
—Hay que hacer el juego más interesante, roomie—. Enid casi sonríe maliciosamente.
—Lanzaré la moneda—. Wednesday buscó nuevamente en su bolsillo.
—Espera—. Enid le quita la moneda —Es mi turno.
Realmente le gusta competir. Pensó Wednesday mientras Enid miraba la moneda.
—¿Qué eliges Wednesday? —. Enid le preguntó después de examinarla y practicar algunos movimientos entre sus dedos.
—Cruz—. Wednesday confiaba en su buena fortuna. Enid lanzó la moneda al aire con mucha más energía de lo esperado. Si bien no podía transformarse en hombre lobo, ella tenía algunas cualidades, entre las que destacaba su fuerza y su excelente vista. Cuando mostró la moneda, no podía creer el resultado.
—Ya tengo en mente al menos 5 entes—. Wednesday se alejó de Enid para darle la espalda a la ventana circular mirando hacia el balcón. Enid se sentó en el suelo y apoyó su espalda en el concreto.
—Estoy lista—. Enid esta vez confiaba en su victoria, después de aceptar su derrota en la adivinanza de la moneda. Todos esos sábados de entretenimiento con Yoko me darán la ventaja o ¿no? Pensó Enid recordando sus triunfos frente a su mejor amiga.
Wednesday se arremangó su suéter a cuadros. Volveré a ganar fácilmente. Pensó antes de iniciar su representación del Fénix.
—Pájaro—. Enid dijo lo primero que se le ocurrió. Wednesday hizo la imitación del fuego.
—Murciélago—. Wednesday seguía con sus gestos para que continuara diciendo nombres.
—Vampiro—. Enid estaba segura de acertar.
—Fénix—. Enid dijo después de varios intentos.
—Correcto—. Wednesday comenzaría con algo fácil.
Intercambiaron lugares, Enid expondría todo su conocimiento en este momento. En su primer año en la academia estuvo en una clase optativa de griego. Le interesó tanto la mitología que incluso después de finalizar ese semestre, ella siguió ampliando su entendimiento hacia otras criaturas fantásticas de otras mitologías, como la nórdica o la oriental.
—¿Preparada para tu derrota, Wednesday? — Enid movía sus brazos y piernas como forma de llenarse de energía, algo que hacía antes de sus entrenamientos de baile.
—Nunca—. Wednesday la miró desafiante.
—Empiezo—. Enid hizo un gesto de ferocidad con sus manos, alargando sus uñas.
—Enid, eso es muy simple de adivinar; hombre lobo—. Wednesday de alguna forma se sentía decepcionada.
Enid negó con la cabeza. Ahora simuló un gesto de vigilancia.
—Zeus— Wednesday asoció esa mímica con el padre de los dioses.
Enid volvió a mover su cabeza en señal de que Wednesday no había acertado. Hizo varios gestos con sus manos para representar 3 cabezas.
—Cerbero—. Wednesday disimuló una sonrisa, porque su primer intento no había estado tan alejado.
—Sí—. Enid confirmó.
El juego estaba empatado después de 5 rondas. Wednesday nunca se imaginó que Enid tuviera tal conocimiento, eso le hizo despertar un nuevo interés hacia su compañera y no solo en fijarse en sus características físicas, que analizó durante su explicación de los tipos de outcast que asistían a Nevermore, cuando observaban el patio pentagonal. Sin embargo, Enid mientras representaba a su personaje vio algo en el hombro derecho de Wednesday.
—Tu izquierda—. Dijo mientras movía sus brazos imitando los tentáculos del Kraken. Wednesday miró su hombro izquierdo.
—No, tu otra izquierda—. Wednesday miró su hombro derecho.
—Es solo una araña—. Wednesday la agarró con cuidado, se levantó del suelo y la dejó en una esquina.
Thing golpeó el suelo varias veces. —Tienes razón—. Wednesday casi olvida la presencia de Thing, durante casi esa hora.
—Perdiste Enid, el juego consiste en no hablar y tú acabas de hacerlo—. Wednesday realmente estaba disfrutando de esa sana competencia.
—Yo…— Enid gritó con frustración —. Solo estaba preocupada por ti…— Susurró teniendo la esperanza que su compañera no la hubiera escuchado, sin embargo, Wednesday sí lo hizo.
—Supongo que no querrás jugar al mejor de 5—. Enid quería continuar en la compañía de Wednesday y con esta derrota sus posibilidades de escapar de la apuesta, eran nulas.
—Por ahora deberíamos entrar—. Wednesday evitó la respuesta. Giró hacia el balcón y con sus dedos índice y pulgar fue apagando las velas. Enid la ayudó a moverlas hacia el interior. Las dejaron una vez más en el suelo. Luego cada una fue hasta sus respectivos lados de la habitación.
—Wednesday…— Enid estaba sentada en su cama, su sueño se esfumó y no quería dar por terminado su día.
—Enid—. Wednesday miró a su compañera.
—¿Tienes hambre? — Enid no cenó, solo comió algunos bocadillos en la habitación de Yoko.
—Sí—. Wednesday comió solo una fruta durante la tarde.
—Iré a buscar algo a la cafetería— Ofreció Enid, porque se imaginó que su compañera no estaría de acuerdo en comer solo galletas. Enid estaba tan entusiasmada que salió rápidamente hacia la puerta.
—Espera Enid—. Wednesday le entregó una vela. —Olvidaste esto.
—Yo… gracias—. Enid le sonrió y salió apresuradamente.
Wednesday durante esos minutos se dedicó a analizar su interacción con Enid durante sus juegos y admitió que se estaba divirtiendo con su colorida compañera de cuarto.
___________________________
Gracias por leer
Segunda parte de esta breve historia
