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fericita-s · 3 years

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Confession

For the Helnik week prompt “Jealousy;” thanks to @helnikweek2021 for organizing this event and to @theburnbarreljester for your beta-ing and encouragement on this piece! This takes place within Chapter 8 of Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo, inspired by this section:

One night he’d glimpsed a woman in a bejeweled evening gown at her dressing table, unpinning her hair. A man - her husband, Matthais assumed - had stepped behind her and taken over the task, and she’d turned her face up to him and smiled. Matthias couldn’t name the ache he felt in that moment. He was a soldier. So was Nina. They weren’t meant for such domestic scenes. But he’d envied those people and their ease. Their comfortable home, their comfort with each other.

Matthias spoke softly, remembering Kaz’s warning that sound traveled easily on the canals at night. He almost hoped Nina wouldn’t hear him at all over the steady dip and glide of the oars in the water. She was still coming back to herself after the ordeal of withdrawal, why burden her with his weakness? But he spoke anyway. A confession.

“I’m jealous.”

“Jealous. Of Cornelis Smeet? The men at the White Rose? The way I look at a chocolate biscuit?” She was teasing but there was a tiredness to it, the same exhaustion that had been plaguing her since the parem. Since she had begged and pleaded and cajoled and threatened him. Since her skirts had fit looser and her laugh had been rare.

“No. Of the people in these houses. Living with the ones they love and not being chased by death.” He pointed to a lit window where a couple was visible through the gauzy curtains. The woman was seated and a man standing behind her leaned down to kiss her neck. His hands traveled from her shoulders and into her hair, doing something that made sections of it tumble out of the elaborate braids. The woman caught his hand when it was on her shoulder again, turning her head to nuzzle against him.

Nina followed his gaze to the window and let out a joyless laugh. “They're just putting on a show. They have the curtains open and the lamps lit, they want people to watch. Probably have a barker outside getting a good haul. I bet they split the cash at the end of the night and go home to their real partners who they yell at for letting the laundry get damp on the line.”

Matthias didn’t speak, unsure if Nina was jesting or if he was again misunderstanding something about Ketterdram and the strange ways its inhabitants had of seeking a profit. He continued to row, the East Stave in sight when she spoke again.

“We wouldn't be like that though.”

Her tone was teasing and even though she was contradicting what he'd said, what he'd hoped, he wanted her to keep talking. She sounded like pre-parem Nina, Nina with a joke she wasn't ready to tell you yet but was ready to tease you with.

“No? What would we be like?”

“We'd pull the curtains shut, those good heavy blackout ones, the ones you can only buy in Little Ravka. I’d sleep well past eight bells if I wanted to with no light streaming in through our floor-to-ceiling windows to wake me. You’d even silence the birds if I asked you to.”

“The birds do not take orders from - “

“And when I did wake I'd greet the day by pulling you into bed -”

“I'm not in bed with you?”

“Oh no, Matthias, this is a realistic day dream. You've been up for hours, probably running laps around the Zelvar District or yelling at the stadwatch for not being in straight enough lines or making me waffles. With cream. And strawberries.”

Matthias listened like it was a bedtime story, a prophecy, her deepest wish. He wanted it.

“But even before I ate the breakfast you so lovingly prepared, I'd pull you down on top of me, like a blanket. And fuss at you for being sweaty from your exertions.”

His rowing abandoned, completely in the thrall of her story, he reached across the small rowboat and cupped her cheek. “I'd kiss you here.”

Nina turned her head to kiss his palm and then whispered into it. “Then I’d kiss you here.”

Matthias swallowed and then fumbled, reaching for the oar as it slipped further down the oarlock. “Then I’d tuck your hair behind your ear. Because your hair gets wild when you sleep.”

“And then I'd kiss you again, so hard and so good and someplace so surprising you'd send all our servants home. And the ones next door besides.”

“I wouldn’t care who was around. As long as I was with you.” The rowboat bumped roughly against the wooden landing and Matthias looped a length of rope around the piling, shaking his head to clear the vivid picture Nina had just conjured.

He helped her disembark, Nina adjusting the headpiece on her costume and fussing at the wrinkled folds of her dress. And then they were off on their mission, two soldiers out to rescue a third, the dream of how they could live when all of this was over still floating down the canal in whispers that joined the night noises of slaver ships scraping against the docks, coins dropped furtively into palms, the revelry of pleasure-seekers, and their own purposeful strides towards the next battle.

#helnik #helnik fan fic #helnik week 2021 #crooked kingdom #matthias helvar #nina zenik #deserve nice things

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thelastmorozova · 6 years

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I found this deep in a Google Docs folder from 2015/16 from when I was deep in Darklina hell. Thought it was about time it saw the light!

I'm trash. This is trash omg.

Summary:

Alina reflects on her shadowy marriage to the Darkling.

The Darkling won every war and Alina is the reluctant Queen to his King.

The day had already gone to hell, and it was barely nine.

Her arm burned from where the blundering maid had lost her grip on her breakfast tray, causing both hot liquid and food to spill onto her queen. Alina made no attempt to order the guards that dragged the sobbing maid away to be gentle. Nor did she allow anyone near her but a Healer.

Things got worse when she pulled on her dress and found a hole in her sleeve, as if it had caught somehow. Huge, gaping and ugly. It would not do.

It was with her mood foul that she strolled into the dining room and took the seat opposite her husband. Neither looked at the other, neither acknowledged the other until the soft clinking of porcelain ceased.

"You didn't come to bed last night," he said quietly, his eyes fixed upon Alina over the rim of his cup.

Alina laughed softly. "You are well informed as to my whereabouts, husband."

"What is so wrong with our marital bed that you refuse to share it with me?"

"I've no quarrels with the bed, only you." And what you intend the bed be used for.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. The cup clattered against the saucer. "Must you always be so difficult, my love?" he growled.

Alina smirked. It was simply impossible not to. Only she could rile him up so very fast and successfully. She folded her hands and rested her chin upon them. "Just imagine how impossibly dull your life would be without my 'difficult nature.'"

Saints, he often wished that he could kill her. Choke the life from her as his shadows invaded her body through every crack and crevice. His queen's screams and pleading for mercy would be the sweetest music to his ears.

Though he knew already that she wouldn't beg. Or ask for forgiveness. Alina was too much like himself now. The girl who had walked through the doors of the Little Palace was long since gone, warped by shadows.

"I will never bear you another child," Alina said slowly, deliberately. "Go bother yourself with the one you already have. You may control me, but you'll never control my heart. You ensured that it was ripped out long ago."

The Darkling tipped his head back and laughed for a long moment. "Such dramatics!"

She knew that he'd sense the power building up before she unleashed it, but still she threw out the arc of light towards him and fled from the room, her chair on its side.

At times, Alina missed the nobody she had been before being claimed by the Little Palace. By him. Maybe the life of a mere cartographer would have been better than this. This... slavery in exotic silks and heavy perfumes.

She often contemplated running, but where would she run to? And he would find her, of course. There was nowhere to run when you had a hound of darkness snapping at your heels. And it wasn't easy to think of running, for despite everything... what little of her heart she had left loved him. Those rare moments of love and affection, they were addictive.

Enslaved by my own heart, she often thought bitterly. Enslaved to a monster, and you love him still. Fool.

The winter solstice celebration drew closer with every passing day until at last, it arrived. Decorations flooded the castle and icicles hung from every banister, real and delicate.

Alina loved her dress for the evening. It was of the purest sapphire, embedded with real diamonds upon the bodice. Halter-necked dresses would always remain her favourite, for they spoke of grace and surety, the perfect attire for a queen. Though, she doubted that the queens of days gone by would have approved of the way the dress barely fell to her knees at the front, but grew into a long and glittering train at the back.

He wanted dramatics, he'd get dramatics.

They'd all be there, Alina knew that. Even the Fjerdan king and queen, though they both loathed and feared them, the Grisha. The unnatural witches and their power. In the early days of conquering Fjerda, they had burned the Drüskelle, their witch-hunters, the same way they had the Grisha. Now you will never walk with your Djel, the Darkling had said with his eyes shining darkly with hatred, raising his hands to signal that the Inferni could begin.

And then he had shattered the Ice Court and burned it to the ground, enveloping the area in the Fold. Not even the Volcra could feast on the little ashes that remained.

Assassins and armies came. Assassins and armies died. One by one, the capitals fell to the Darkling and his monstrous Ravka.

The crown upon her head drew everyone's attention when Alina walked into the throne room.

Of course it would. To the unknowing eye, the circlet upon her brow would look like ivory. Only it wasn't, but human bone. Her final amplifier.

She could barely remember the boy anymore. Much less his name. It had been too many years since she'd killed him and taken his very bones. She had loved him once, she thought. Or was it a mere dream?

It was as she was trying in vain to remember the name of the human that she saw the woman.

Alina stopped dead. Sat upon the knees of her husband and king was a young woman in a tight fitting midnight blue dress. And even worse was the fact that the Darkling was smiling, a hand upon her hips.

Jealousy and rage erupted out of her. She was only half-aware of the beam of light that she threw the wretched woman's way, her screaming as she went blind harsh in Alina's ears.

The Darkling said nothing, did nothing as the woman fell away from him, sobbing and scrabbling at her ruined eyes. Alina merely stepped over her body and snarled, her eyes positively glowing golden with anger from within. She grasped the Darkling's chin and forced his head back, eyes meeting her own. Alina was infuriated by the dark amusement in them.

"I knew it," he murmured. "I knew that you still had a heart, no matter how shriveled up it may be now."

Alina ignored their audience and straddled his lap. Her fingers fell from his face to his heart. Even now she was surprised to feel a real one beating beneath her hands.

"I don't have a heart," Alina told him quietly, "but I am prone to fits of jealousy. You are mine and I am yours. You would do well to remember that."

"Might I say that jealousy becomes you, my Alina?" His lips brushed her own, so softly that she barely felt it. Desire flooded her body, her fingers finding the front of his trousers and digging her nails in. Mine, she seemed to say. You may sit upon this throne, but you should remember who sits on the one beside you. This shadow kingdom of yours would not exist without me.

If anyone had any objections as the king bunched his queen's dress up at the hips and unbuckled his belt with his other hand, they kept quiet, feigning disinterest. The chatter didn't dim once as the girl cloaked in light rode her king of darkness. Slow at first, discreet, but then faster and harder, her head tilted back towards the gilded ceiling and obscene moans upon her lips, their audience forgotten as they often were. Time had taught Alina that modesty was a dull thing, that it was much better to scandalise. After all, forever was a long time to stay behind closed doors.

After their encounter in the throne room, they left the party, not bothering with the planned display of light and dark. Why was it even needed? The entire world knew their extremity of their power. And feared it.

It was almost dawn when she awoke. Arms encircled Alina's midriff as if they belonged to a devoted lover. But... what were they? Alina could never use the phrase "making love" when they had sex. Love was not involved. Not in the slightest. Their encounters were moments of madness, lust and nothing more.

One of the hands slid down to her inner thigh. "Planning on running out on me so soon?" His slightly sleepy voice accused through the darkness. "A pity. I had the most delicious of ways to wake you up in mind."

Alina swore internally as her body began to burn once more. At his words or because of the fingers creeping ever closer towards her core, she didn't know. She loathed the effect he had on her stupid, traitorous body. Though her body resented her for it, she grabbed his wrist and wrenched it away.

"Don't touch me."

At first there was silence and Alina thought herself triumphant. But then she squeaked in surprise as his hand shot down between her legs and cupped her. A soft laugh and he breathed into her ear "Why not? It's evident that you enjoy it. Despite all of your hissing." His other hand slid over her stomach, fingers dancing upon her sensitive skin.

Saints, Alina thought, struggling to formulate a line. Or think of any word at all that would make him let her go. To get across how much she hated him.

"Please," she eventually came up with, voice barely more than a whisper.

"Please what?" He murmured, lips finding the line of her jaw through the impenetrable darkness. Alina swallowed hard and let her eyes flutter shut. She allowed him to kiss along her jaw until he reached to her throat. When he found that, he bit on it a little too hard to be merely teasing and playful. Forever marking me as his own, Alina thought darkly. "I'm waiting," he said quietly against the hollow of her throat. "Please what?"

"Please just let me go to sleep. I'm tired." Lies. Lies. Lies.

"You know that I don't like it when you lie, Alina." Before she could reply, he flipped her from her side and onto her back. Alina forced herself to say nothing as he sat astride her hips, as naked as she was. "And I'm very sure that just now, you lied to me."

Alina steeled herself as she pushed hard against his bare chest; he didn't move. But then, he did.

The kiss was devastating. It shattered her apart, then remade her. And she hated it. Hated him for making her feel such a way. Alina gave in and kissed him back, twining her arms around his neck and drawing him down towards her. Bastard, she cursed as his teeth caught her bottom lip. You bastard. I hate you. I should stab you while you sleep.

Did he love her? No. At least, she didn't think so. The day they married had felt like a complete sham. A ceremony of lies. When they had exchanged vows, it was yet another link added to the chain that was already weighing her down. They were bound so utterly and completely.

And yet, despite it all, she frequently got jealous whenever he spoke with another woman. You need to decide what you feel, Alina. You can't hate him one day, then contemplate feelings for him on the next. It doesn't work like that.

Alina broke the kiss and gasped out "What do you feel for me? About me?"

He stilled above her. "I don't understand," he said in a clipped tone. "We are married."

"Indulge me, Alek."

A pause and he rolled off her. Alina watched as the lamp next to the bed was lit, the flickering orange flame casting long shadows about the room. The Darkling looked anything but pleased, his inky black hair a mess atop his head. Alina liked him better this way; when there was no one else in the room but them and he didn't bother with the charms of court life.

"I never should have told you," he growled softly, throwing the covers over himself once more. "Now my name is nothing but a weapon for you to wield whenever you see fit."

"Your name a weapon? Don't make me laugh; you used to love it when I called you by your true name."

He still loved the way her lips shaped his name. Not his title or His Majesty, but his real name. The only person alive other than himself that knew his birth name was Alina.

Alina shivered and he raised an eyebrow. He supposed that it really was a cold night, and she was hardly dressed appropriately. She was as bare as he was. "Are you cold?" he found himself asking.

"No."

Rolling his eyes, he took her arm and tugged her into his embrace, pulling the warm covers around them so it formed a cocoon. Though she grumbled unhappily about it, she snuggled closer into the warmth of his chest. He placed a hand upon the small of her back, distantly pleased that she didn't throw him off.

"The world changes around us, yet we remain constant. Forever is a long time, Alina. Too long for us to spend the entire time loathing each other," he said quietly into her ear. Alina didn't move. "We only have each other."

And Viktoriya, Alina sighed. Though how long would she live? Had she inherited her father's ability, his immortality? Part of her hoped that the girl would simply grow old and die. It was such a horrible thought, but she feared what she might become with such a father. And mother. Viktoriya was the child of monsters and what hope did a child like that have?

Alina traced a finger up his spine, satisfied when he shivered at her touch. "I am nothing but your obedient servant."

"You are my servant, yes, but you are not obedient. Not in the slightest." Once more those fingers slid over her thighs and she knew that he was trying to make a point; he was expecting her to shake him off, to snap at him to leave her be.

"Just fuck me already and get it over with. I'm tired," Alina snapped, rolling onto her back. Maybe after he was finally satiated he'd leave her alone for a week or two. If she was that lucky.

The Darkling paused as if he was going to say something, but then Alina watched his expression turn blank once more as he climbed back onto her and into her.

Alina was summoned to the dining room the very next morning. When she awoke she was predictably alone, but she took no notice as she dressed herself rather than have some terrified maid do it. Her muscles ached and complained at every move she made. Each time Alina winced, she cursed her king and his wildness. His inability to control himself. As long as he was satisfied, she didn't come into it.

I should find a man who can satisfy me like a real person, she thought on the way down to the dining room, mood more than foul. A man who won't think solely about himself and actually consider the woman he is currently fucking.

"You look distinctly grumpy this morning" was his greeting just as she passed through the doors. Alina wanted to throttle him there and then.

"Don't talk to me," she ordered, taking the seat furthest from him as usual. The Darkling was best observed from a good distance away.

This was their existence. And Alina was fairly certain that it would remain so forevermore.

#Leigh Bardugo #(don't read this Leigh pls I'll die from shame)#the grisha trilogy #grishaverse #shadow and bone #darklina

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thran-duils · 7 years

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Say Your Piece (Beauty, Wealth, and Reputation P14)

TITLE: Say Your Piece PAIRING: Reader/AU!Castiel SUMMARY: AU Castiel is part of the mob but also endowed with magic (based off the Grisha by Leigh Bardugo). So, y’all, he still has his “grace”! The reader is employed in ab rothel and of course, his favorite. But she starts to develop feelings for another... WORDS: 1,944 WARNINGS: Language, ANGST ANGST ANGST

PART 13 || Part 15 || MASTERPOST || Fanfic masterpost

Castiel led you around the corner into an empty alley and cornered you against the wall. “What is it, Y/N?”

“What were you doing to Dean?” you asked him immediately, your tone sour. You were not pleased he had tried to order you around as he did.

Shaking his head, Castiel said, “That’s none of your concern, Y/N. What is it?” He sounded exasperated.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your annoyance rising with his boorish behavior, “I don’t know if I want to discuss it now!”

There was a twitch in Castiel’s face before he rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. “You’ve already interrupted me. You might as well just spit it out rather than waste my time, Y/N. I’m not in the mood if you haven’t noticed.”

What the hell was wrong with him? “You’re being a right bastard!” you snapped at him. “And here I was going to tell you I will do as you requested! I think I might take it back!”

Castiel immediately stilled. You huffed loudly, staring at him for a few more seconds before trying to shove past him.

“Wait!” Castiel exclaimed, putting his arm out and stopping you from escaping. His eyes searched you quickly, disbelief etched in his features. “You… us... I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know.”

Snorting, you snapped, “So, you would have been nicer to me if you knew I was going to give you something you wanted? That’s rich. That’s really something I should be excited about!”

Looking distraught, Castiel explained, “I am sorry, Y/N. I’m just stressed out –”

Cutting him off, you retorted, “That’s no reason to order me about! And dismiss me like you did!”

“Y/N –”

“It’s like you don’t even really want me to like you at all! Are you trying to push me away?”

Castiel gawked and sputtered, “Y/N, no!”

You were on a roll – whether it was simply your anger or the alcohol or a combination of both – and you weren’t about to stop. “You can’t treat me like that Castiel. This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt my feelings! And I doubt it’ll be the last. Perhaps being together the way you want isn’t a good thing and I should keep my original decision in place!”

Castiel fell to his knees and your eyes widened slightly. He grasped your skirts and pleaded, “Y/N, I am sorry. I truly am. I didn’t mean to be crass or short tempered. And…” His eyes were brimming, truly scared that you were going to leave. He buried his face against your thighs and inhaled deeply, trying to bring himself back under control. You swallowed sharply, not knowing how to feel about him on his knees for you. He looked meek. And that melted some of your anger that had been fired up. Pulling away again, he met your eyes. He said, “I know it was wrong. I am asking for your forgiveness. Please. If you told me yes, you would make me the happiest man in Ketterdam. I swear it. And… I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again. But, I’ll do my damnedest not to. I promise you that. Please.”

You said nothing, looking down at him gazing up at you with pleading eyes.

Castiel half cried, “Please. I’m begging you. Forgive me.”

Part of you was still upset but a larger part… every fiber of that part was screaming out at you to accept his apology and let him swoop you up into his arms. The way he had fallen to his knees, his begging for forgiveness… you wanted to grant him it. This display of humbleness and repentance was something coming from a man so endowed with pride.

You breathed, “Why am I always so weak for you?”

Castiel accepted this as your relent and he stood up swiftly, pulling you towards him, his lips pressing to yours, interlocking you in a deep kiss. He didn’t let you go, lavishing you with kisses and caresses. His touch and affection was enough to make you forget why he had been so infuriated with Dean.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I swear,” he told you quietly, caressing your jaw, his forehead resting on yours. You closed your eyes, letting his gentle touch take over your senses. You wanted to believe his words. You did believe his words. You remembered what you and Sam had discussed shortly before, of all the things Castiel did for you. “Do you hear me?”

You opened your eyes again and whispered, “Yes.”

He kissed you again and requested quietly, “Please say it.”

“I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

Castiel shook his head and said, “No… tell me about us, angel.”

It was your turn to pull him to you, kissing him deeply. You felt him shiver against you at the intensity of it and your fingers wrapped up in his hair. When you pulled away, you said, “I want to be yours. Only yours.”

Castiel looked exalted.

(gif)

<> <> <>

After walking, Y/N back to her room and informing Sam that she was in fact, fine, Castiel had gone home. It was late and he didn’t expect anyone to be awake except perhaps the cook, who rose early to start preparing the food for the day.

Except, what he found was Lysandra staring into the fire in the parlor, suitcases around her. Castiel treaded into the room slowly, his eyes running over all the suitcases and finally landing on her. She hadn’t acknowledged him yet but he knew she knew he was there. There was a sinking feeling deep in his core, knowing what was about to transpire.

Lysandra’s greeting was, “I’m leaving. We’re leaving. Aleksander and I.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, almost breathlessly.

“I’m leaving, Castiel. What else is that supposed to mean.”

Castiel was having trouble finding words for once. Stammering, he began to get out, “Lys—”

Cutting him off, Lysandra pressed on forcibly, “In the morning. I’m letting Aleksander sleep and also have time to say goodbye to you in the morning. I’ve told him we are going to the country to visit my family. I didn’t say it was permanent to him but eventually he will know. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make a scene about it.”

This irked Castiel. “Make a scene? Why wouldn’t I make a scene, Lysandra? You’re taking my son from me! You’re leaving me!”

Lysandra snorted, “Don’t pretend like you care, Castiel.”

“How dare you. I love Aleksander! I love you!”

Now, Lysandra was annoyed. She snapped, “I’ll accept you saying you love Aleksander. You’ve never shown any animosity or abusive behavior towards him. But me? I will not accept that.”

“Lysandra, come on –”

“No!” She barked and Castiel closed his mouth. She stood up from the chair, moving towards him quickly. She was determined to say her piece. “If you ever try to claim you love me again, I swear to god, I will break your jaw.”

Castiel was staring down his nose at her intensely, stunned into silence.

(gif)

She wasn’t relenting. Her tirade was becoming more emotional though, her voice strained, tears coming to her eyes.

“Maybe if you had realized our marriage was fine the way it was, I wouldn’t be doing this! I mean, Christ! There are so many people who are fucking people on the side but keep it quiet! And yet here you are, meeting her openly, flaunting her in front of others in spaces and events I should be, and doting on her in front of people!”

Castiel was still silent, his chest falling and rising steadily.

Lysandra was near tears now, “Why couldn’t you have just bedded her in the dark and kept your straying dick between us rather than letting others know? It would have made this bearable! Me knowing! But instead I’m constantly insulted, hurt, and embarrassed! That is no way for a husband to treat his wife regardless of their feelings for each other. So, how dare YOU tell me you love me! You might ‘care’ about me, Castiel, but you sure as hell do not love me. You tolerate me Castiel. You use me. And that’s not to say that I didn’t use you to get a leg up in life but I have never disrespected you.” She added with emphasis, “Ever!”

There was a heavy silence between the two of them, Lysandra on one hand breathing rapidly, her adrenaline rushing. And then Castiel on the other hand, calm, cool, and collected. At least on the surface. He swallowed sharply, casting his eyes downward.

His silence was more than Lysandra could bear. She shoved him in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” She cried.

“I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

Spitefully, Lysandra suggested, “Sorry might be a good place to start, you bastard!” A sob left her throat and she wiped at her eyes, angry. She had been holding in this anger for so long and letting the dam break was both relieving and overwhelming.

Castiel moved forward to try to pull her into a hug but she slapped his hands away and he retreated quickly. “Don’t touch me!” He gave her a curt nod, dropping his hands.

She cried quietly to herself, looking everywhere but at him. The only other sound in the room was the fire crackling calmly in the background.

Finding his words finally, Castiel apologized, “I’m sorry that I was selfish. And insulted you to the point you feel the need to leave. I should have realized how much this was hurting you before. I was – am – too self-absorbed. You’ve been nothing but good to me and all I ever gave you back was the cold shoulder. I realize that just providing you with a home and child shouldn’t have been the only responsibilities I kept up on.” He paused before swallowing sharply, “I don’t want you to leave. I really don’t. But… I won’t stop you if that’s what you feel will make you happy. It sure as hell will hurt but… seeing as I’ve hurt you a million times over, well… it might be time for me to feel some of that hurt.”

Lysandra actually looked stunned by his words.

Castiel added, “So, if you are requesting I keep it quiet with Aleksander, I will do that. For you. I won’t make a scene. But please… don’t take him from me forever.”

“I… I won’t,” Lysandra got out.

He actually sounded relieved, “Thank you.”

“I am not over being angry. And I don’t think I will be for a long time, Castiel,” Lysandra informed him. “But… thank you. For apologizing like you meant it.”

Sincerely, Castiel told her, “I do mean it.”

Nodding, Lysandra said, “Like I said, thank you.”

Castiel shifted and asked, “Would you like me to sleep in one of the spare rooms then?”

There were a few moments of silence before Lysandra shook her head and Castiel rose his brows slightly, surprised. “No,” she stated, shaking her head again. “I would like you to sleep next to me. Just one more time before I leave… just to remember what it felt like.” She forced a small smile. “We can pretend for one more night with a new understanding now that we’ve said our piece.”

Castiel gave her a small, sad smile before reaching out a hand towards her. Lysandra walked slowly towards him and Castiel let her tuck herself into him, turning towards the door. The two of them walked towards the stairs, ready to come to a close in a chapter in their lives.

~~~

CASTIEL TAGS: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @greenappleeyes @stori-teller @xxslytherinprincessxx

#castiel x reader #au castiel #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #my shit

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