#count alexei vronsky | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ikkyfics · 15 days ago

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Restoration

Count Vronsky x fem!reader

Summary: You allowed your heart to fill with a faint hope. Maybe Alexei could love you. Maybe time would make this more than an arrangement, more than a contract. But then Anna came along.

Warnings: angst, marriage in crisis, emotional conflict

A/N: My fourth request - anon, sorry if I strayed a little from the proposal, it's the first time I've written about marital problems, so I hope it wasn't too bad

Masterlist - Restoration Spin-Off

The hall was silent now, with the distant echo of the last celebrations echoing through the corridors. The moon streamed in through the window, its silvery light highlighting Alexei’s contours as he moved around the room with elegant ease, his jacket already undone, his cufflinks set aside. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your heavy wedding dress still intact, your hands busy with the embroidery of the veil that you weren’t sure how to remove.

Arranged marriage. The word had been weighing on your mind since the moment you heard the news months ago. Your fate sealed in meetings between families; your life decided before you could even formulate your own wishes. But deep down, wasn’t that what every woman of your position expected? To grow up hearing that she should be an exemplary wife, produce heirs, build a respectable home. Yet, between the expectations and your solitary dreams, there was an almost childish desire for love—a love that blossomed in the unexpected, that overcame the cold barriers of a social contract.

And then Alexei had come into her life.

A tall man, with a presence that was impossible to ignore, eyes that held something between amusement and danger, a smile that seemed designed to disarm anyone. He was charismatic, that was undeniable. At every meeting before the wedding, his words had been gentle, but there was a confidence in them that seemed both unpretentious and rehearsed. He knew the effect he had—and he used it skillfully.

Yet he had never been cruel.

“You seem to be trapped in a maze of thoughts,” Alexei said, his low voice cutting through the silence. He was close now, closer than he should have been, and you could smell the faint note of brandy on his breath.

“My lord…” you began hesitantly, but he held up a hand, as if stopping her was a natural gesture.

“Alexei,” he corrected. The name sounded intimate on her lips, and it made him smile. “I want you to call me by my name. We’re not strangers anymore, after all.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was watching you in a way you couldn’t quite decipher yet—not predatory, but as if he was studying your every reaction, as if he found pleasure in seeing you flustered.

With deft fingers, he reached out and effortlessly began to undo the delicate pins that held the veil together, his eyes still fixed on yours.

“Let me help you.” His voice held something softer now, almost intimate, and the touch of his fingers on your skin made heat rise up your neck.

It was this charm, this ease, that made you wonder if there could, in fact, be love in your marriage. He was an enigma: gentle, yet impenetrable. Seductive, yet never completely surrendered. And yet, throughout the weeks that followed the ceremony, he had been careful.

The wedding night had not been what you had feared. Instead, it had been marked by unexpected patience, by quiet words spoken in the dark, by touches that seemed almost studied to ease your tension. And the following nights were no different, filled with a passion that was restrained and yet intense.

For you, there was something sacred about these intimacies. You wanted to give him an heir, yes, but there was more: you wanted him to see you as more than a wife chosen for convenience.

You allowed your heart to fill with a faint hope. Maybe he could love you. Maybe time would make this more than an arrangement, more than a contract. Still enchanted, still nervous, by the idea that perhaps it was possible to find love in this man’s eyes.

The two weeks of your honeymoon passed in the blink of an eye, but you felt as if you had lived a dream. Alexei was the personification of kindness—attentive in every small gesture, tender in every word, always one step ahead in caring for you. Under the sun of a place that seemed so far away from everything, he made you laugh with his witty observations, gave you goosebumps with subtle touches, and looked at you as if you were the only person who mattered at that moment.

Now, as the carriage made its way to your new home, you watched the changing landscape through the window, but your mind remained anchored in those moments. There was something new growing inside you, a feeling you barely dared to name.

“Lost in your thoughts again?” Alexei interrupted your contemplation, his voice low and soft. He was leaning back against the seat, his eyes shining with something between humor and tenderness.

You smiled, blushing slightly, but before you could respond, he leaned forward, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “I hope those thoughts include your husband. It would be terrible to find out you’re dreaming about someone else.”

Your laughter escaped before you could contain it, and he followed suit, the sounds blending together.

Back at the house, the routine began to settle into a slow but comfortable dance. Alexei seemed to know exactly how to make every moment of the day special—the way he would take your hand at the dinner table, the smiles he would give you when you walked into the room, the casual touches that seemed to last longer than necessary. There was a magnetism about him that made your heart race without warning.

It was during one of those nights, after dinner, that he brought it up.

“Have you ever thought about how many children you would like to have?” he asked, his voice calm as he held a glass of wine in his hand, his gaze fixed on you.

The question took you by surprise, but the tone of his voice reassured you.

“I… I don’t know for sure,” you replied, looking down at your hands in your lap. “What do you want?”

He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the armrest and his face in his hand, his eyes still fixed on you.

“Whatever you want, my dear. As long as it brings you happiness, that will be enough for me.”

The words were simple, but the way he said them—with a light seriousness, almost unpretentious, but sincere—made something inside you heat up.

It was then that you decided.

The nights—and sometimes days—of passion became frequent. You could never have imagined the intensity he brought with him, how each touch seemed charged with a greater purpose. He was patient and tender, but there was an almost electric energy that made it impossible for you not to lose yourself completely in him.

On one such morning, the sun timidly entered through the window, casting a golden glow over the bed. You were leaning against his chest, your fingers drawing lazy circles on his skin, while Alexei’s messy curls fell over his forehead.

“You’re thinking about something again,” he said, his lips curved in a lazy smile, his hands tracing soft patterns on your back.

“Maybe,” you replied, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

He tilted his head to get a better look at you, his eyes alight with amusement.

“Then tell me. I want to know what’s going on in that busy little head of yours. Don’t keep your secrets from me.”

You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“I was just thinking about how different you look like this…” you said hesitantly, but he arched an eyebrow.

“Different.”

“More…” You searched for the words. “Human.”

Alexei laughed, the sound vibrating through your body, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Is that a compliment? I hope so, because my wife is seriously risking hurting her husband’s pride.”

The laugh was inevitable, and he joined in, a wide, disarming smile on his lips. You loved that smile—so rare in public, but so natural in moments like this.

There was a gentleness about Alexei that he seemed to save just for you, a kind of intimacy that made your heart yearn for more.

The halls sparkled with the reflection of the crystal chandeliers, the sound of the orchestra filled the air with elegant melodies, and you felt the eyes of many on you. Alexei had that effect—a natural magnetism that didn’t go unnoticed anywhere.

He looked particularly stunning that night, with his perfectly tailored suit and his golden curls combed with a charm that seemed casual but that you knew was meticulously calculated. Every smile he offered made the people around him glow as if they had been touched by a ray of sunshine.

And you were right there with him.

He made a point of keeping you close, his hand firmly on your back, guiding you through the circles of high society with unshakable confidence. Whenever someone made a comment or leaned in to talk, Alexei found an opportunity to whisper something in your ear—a witty observation, a sharp comment, a little teasing. It was impossible to hold back your laughter, even if you tried.

“They’re all watching us, you know?” he murmured, with that smirk that always made your heart race.

“Of course they are. Because of you,” you replied, trying to hide the blush that threatened to rise to cheeks.

“No. Because of you. You leave them speechless, my darling.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you into another dance, the third that night. It was more than protocol dictated as appropriate for a married couple, but Alexei seemed immune to the veiled criticism. His every move was fluid, as if he were born to lead a waltz, and he made sure you were the only one who felt it.

“Should I worry about what they’ll say about us?” you whispered, slightly breathless, as he twirled with calculated precision.

“Let them talk. I don’t care, and neither should you.”

And at that moment, you really didn’t care.

But then she walked in.

Anna Karenina didn’t need to say a word to draw their gazes. Her black dress contrasted with her pale skin, her hair shining in the light of the chandeliers, and there was something about her posture—a natural confidence that made the entire room seem less grand.

You noticed the subtle change in Alexei before you even looked at him. His eyes, always so intent on you, shifted. It was only for a moment, but it felt like an eternity.

He recovered quickly, turning to you with a soft smile, as if nothing had happened.

“It’s Mrs. Karenina, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone casual and unconvincing.

You simply nodded, keeping your expression neutral.

Out of courtesy, or perhaps something more, Alexei approached Anna. After a few brief, polite comments, he held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

You saw it all.

The way Alexei bowed slightly, the slight tension in his shoulders as he waited for her answer, and then the way she smiled before accepting. They were a vision together—he with his natural elegance, and she with an almost defiant magnetism.

The dance was… different. There was no denying it. The entire room was watching them, and it seemed like they didn’t notice anyone else. The rhythm of the waltz seemed to be dictated by them, each step, each turn perfect, as if they were in another world.

You felt something tighten in your chest, but you kept your composure. When Alexei returned to your side, he smiled as always, as if nothing had changed. He took your hand and led you for another dance.

Later, back in the bedroom, he took you in his arms with a passion that seemed almost desperate. His touches were intense, each kiss carried an urgency that you didn’t fully understand, but accepted.

As he slept beside you, his golden curls falling over his forehead, you watched him in silence. He seemed so peaceful, so much yours in that moment, that you decided that everything you had seen before meant nothing.

“None of that mattered,” you told yourself, closing your eyes. “None.”

The days that followed were peaceful, almost idyllic. Alexei was still as affectionate and attentive as ever, filling the moments you spent together with laughter and tender gestures. He made a point of looking you in the eyes when he spoke, as if you were the only person in the world who deserved his attention. Yet, there was something different.

A sparkle in his eyes—an energy you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed more attentive, more restless, but never in a way that diminished the care he showed you.

That morning, he kissed her before leaving, holding your face in his hands. “Goodbye, my dear. Be well for me.” And then he was gone, leaving behind a void that the house could not fill.

It was the first time you had spent so much time alone. You tried to keep yourself busy, supervising the servants, organizing small details to make the home more welcoming and, finally, preparing to receive some ladies of society. The afternoon brought restrained laughter and lively conversation to the drawing room, as the women settled in with cups of tea and delicate sweets.

The conversation flowed as usual, until a name came up casually, but with a devastating impact. “Anna Karenina was stunning at the ball, don’t you think?” The air seemed to grow heavier around you.

You kept smiling, raising the cup to your lips, but your fingers tightened slightly on the porcelain.

“All the men only had eyes for her, even the married ones,” one of them commented, letting out a muffled laugh. “But of course, she’s a married woman, so it’s just… admiration, isn’t it?”

You forced a laugh along with the others, but the words echoed inside you. Her name seemed to have taken root in your mind, and each time it was repeated, the knot in your stomach tightened a little more.

When Alexei came home that night, the sound of his boots on the wooden floor made you straighten your posture and put a smile on your lips. He appeared in the entrance, as always impeccable, and his smile immediately widened when he saw you.

“My dear.” He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, his warm hands holding your waist. “Did you miss me?”

You melted, as always. It was impossible not to get lost in the attention he gave you, in the low, intimate tone of his voice, in the warmth he seemed to carry with him.

“How was your day?” You asked, trying to sound casual as you followed him to his office. “Did anything interesting happen?”

He paused for a moment, taking off his coat and hanging it up carefully. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual business. And your day? I hope you weren’t bored without me.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, the ladies came to visit. It was a nice afternoon.”

He stepped closer, lightly touching your chin so you would look at him. “I’m glad you did. You deserve to be surrounded by good things.”

The knot in your stomach tightened again, but you pushed it away. Don’t be silly, you thought. He was a kind and caring husband, someone who always made you feel special. Your marriage was better than most other women’s, and wasting time on dark thoughts would be foolish. When Alexei kissed you again before going to change, you decided you had better believe it.

Time passed, bringing sunny days and starry nights as you and Alexei indulged in your mutual desire more and more. He seemed more than happy to respond to your attempts to conceive, and you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed seducing him.

There was something powerful in the way he looked at you, a glint in his eyes that told you he wouldn’t resist anything you asked. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, my dear?” He whispered as he pulled you closer, the heat of his words almost as overwhelming as the touch of his hands.

In the mornings, when the sun was barely breaking over the horizon, Alexei would sometimes hold you in bed, preventing you from leaving. “Don’t go yet,” he would murmur, his voice hoarse with sleep, his strong arms wrapped around you. “Stay with me a little longer.”

And in those moments, with your head resting on his chest and his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin, any doubt that tried to sprout in your heart was forgotten. He made you feel loved, wanted. The world seemed to not exist when Alexei was only yours.

But the world, inevitably, kept turning.

Meetings with the ladies were a crossroads between gossip and appearances, and you did your best to maintain your composure. Still, the whispers about Anna Karenina and Alexei kept finding you, cutting like sharp knives disguised as smiles.

“He’s so devoted to his wife,” one of them would say, almost enviously. “But it would be a wonder if his eyes didn’t follow her too. Who could blame him? Anna is stunning.”

You forced a smile and stood up straight, as a good hostess should. But every word seemed to erode a little of your confidence.

Alexei was still the loving husband he had always been, but there were moments—small, fleeting, but undeniable—when he seemed distant. His eyes, though focused on you, were elsewhere.

And though he would never admit it, you knew there was something more. His schedule seemed different. He would leave early and sometimes come back late, always with a ready excuse, always with a reassuring smile.

“Just meetings, my dear. Don’t worry.”

You believed him. Or at least you tried to believe him.

That night, as he pulled you into a hug on the couch, you snuggled against his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his heart. He stroked your hair tenderly, and for a moment, you thought about asking. About Anna, about the rumors, about the absent-minded glances.

But then he whispered in your ear, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

And you decided you didn’t want to hear the answer.

The days passed, and although Alexei remained affectionate and attentive at times, something was off. He always seemed busy, and you began to notice the gaps—small delays, glances that strayed beyond where you were.

But that wasn’t the typical behavior of an unfaithful man, was it? He still held you by the waist when he passed by, still kissed you lingeringly before leaving. These displays of affection confused your thoughts and increased your anguish.

That night, determined to get an answer, you spent the time leafing through a novel, although the words were nothing more than blurs on the page. There was something on your mind, a restlessness that you could no longer ignore. You were wearing a nightgown that you had previously hesitated to wear, a soft and provocative fabric, with strategically placed lace.

When Alexei entered the room, exuding the freshness of the cold night, he stopped when he saw you. His clear eyes slid over you, shrewd and shining with something indefinable. “An unexpected reception,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something deeper.

You stood up, your heart racing, but your face carefully serene. You walked over to him and began to help him take off his gloves. The coat came next, feeling the weight of the fabric on your arms, while you asked trivial questions. “Was it very cold outside? Did you find who you needed?” He answered calmly, but there was something in his voice that seemed a little distant.

Then, before you could lose your courage, you looked at him. “Alexei…” you began, hesitantly, your fingers lightly touching the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you still happy?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, and the pause made the air in the room seem thicker. But then, without a word, he pulled you to him. His lips met yours with an urgency you hadn’t felt in a long time, and the answer came not in words, but in actions. He adored you that night, as if you were something sacred.

Every touch, every gesture felt like a promise, and for a moment, you believed that everything was fine again. But when morning came, the unspoken words returned, and the promises evaporated like dew under the sun.

A few days later, at a gathering of the ladies, held in the gardens of a hostess’s house, the rumors reached you again. They spoke in low tones, but curiosity overcame discretion.

“It seems that Anna and Alexei were seen together in the garden, alone.”

You tried not to react, but you felt heat rise to your face and a lump tighten in your throat. “Don’t talk nonsense,” one of the women said. “She’s married, so is he. It’s just rumors.”

Rumors or not, the words hit you like a blow.

That evening, as you looked at Alexei at the dinner table, you noticed the shadow of weariness in his eyes. He smiled at you, the same smile that had so often calmed your fears. But something seemed out of reach.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Is everything okay?”

You just nodded, but in your heart, the distance seemed to grow ever wider, and the two versions of Alexei—the loving man who held you in his arms and the distracted husband who was possibly with another woman—began to overlap, leaving you without answers.

The days became a disjointed dance of avoided glances and touches that seemed more like habit than genuine affection. Alexei would arrive late, his face tired and his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Is everything okay?” You asked one night, as he took off his coat, his gaze lost somewhere in the room.

He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Just my duties, love. Nothing to worry about.”

But you worried. His silence seemed louder than any words, and the way he took so long to answer you in certain conversations made the discomfort grow.

“You’ve been working too much,” you commented again, feeling the weight of loneliness as he left her at the dinner table to attend to a letter that had just arrived.

“It’s necessary,” He kissed your forehead before leaving, but the gesture seemed mechanical.

Meanwhile, Alexei, increasingly involved with Anna, felt torn between duty and desire. She was… fascinating. There was something in her way of speaking, in her eyes that seemed to decipher his thoughts before he even expressed them, that made him want to be close to her. Their encounters began to become frequent, and the longer touches were inevitable.

“That’s not right, Alexei,” she said in one of her hesitant moments, although she didn’t pull away when he took her hand.

“Maybe not, but how can you ignore something so… inevitable?”

And he was lost.

That night, at home, you were waiting for him. The dinner, untouched on the table, had already gone cold, but you remained seated, trying not to look at the clock. When Alexei came in, later than usual, something inside you gave way.

“It’s so late,” you said, his voice hesitant, almost a whisper.

He sighed, as if the guilt he was trying to hide was weighing more heavily than expected. “Yes, I’m sorry. The meetings went longer than planned.”

You stared at him, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. “Alexei… I need to ask you something.”

He stopped, his body tense, but he tried to hide it. “Sure, whatever you want.”

“Anna Karenina.” Her name left your lips before you could stop the tremor in your voice. “Do you… what do you think of her?”

For a moment, Alexei seemed to struggle with himself, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. But then he took a deep breath and answered, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“I think she’s amazing.”

The word hit you like a blade, and the world around you seemed to stop. Alexei realized too late the impact of what he had said, but he didn’t try to correct it.

You stood up, unable to hold back the tears that were already stinging your eyes. “Amazing? Is that what she is to you?”

He tried to move closer, but you took a step back, your hand shaking as you gripped the back of the chair to steady yourself.

“It’s not what you think,” he tried to explain, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never… there’s nothing you need to be afraid of.”

But you were afraid. Not just for him, but for the shadow that was beginning to creep into your marriage, a shadow that now had a name and a face.

When he held you in his arms that night, trying to comfort you, you wondered if he really held you or if his mind was still with her.

The glances started as something subtle, almost imperceptible. A second longer of hesitation, a half smile that seemed fraught with pity. But now, it was unmistakable. When you entered a room, conversations would cease for a moment before starting again, whispers slithering like snakes around the corners.

“She’s admirable, don’t you think?” someone had commented once, their voice low but not enough to escape your ears. “To carry on like that, with such dignity. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“It really is impressive,” another replied. “Especially with… well, with everything that’s said.”

You smiled, as you had learned to do since you were a child: with the grace required of someone in your position. But inside, you felt as if a crack were forming, threatening to widen with every strangled comment and look of commiseration.

At home, Alexei seemed determined to erase the marks of whatever was causing your guilt. Fresh flowers appeared on your bedside table, delicate jewelry was left on your pillow, and he never failed to compliment your when they were alone.

“You look so pretty today,” he said one evening as he watched your dress for a social gathering.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to force a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

The truth was that the gifts were a cruel reminder. No matter how much Alexei tried to make up for it with kindness, his words about Anna that night echoed like a distant bell, ever present. He thought you were a good wife, a wife as one should be. But that wasn’t the same as loving you.

Meanwhile, Alexei was falling deeper and deeper into what he couldn’t quite name as anything other than fascination. Anna wasn’t just amazing—she was magnetic. Their encounters, though brief, were a relief in a world where everything seemed predetermined. She laughed openly, challenged his ideas with cunning, and the looks they exchanged grew more intense every day.

“You should stop coming,” Anna said during one of their encounters, her eyes shining with a mixture of irritation and provocation.

“I should have,” Alexei replied, but his hand lingered on hers, unable to pull away.

Anna felt her frustration grow. Alexei’s attention, once sufficient, now seemed like a mere crumb. He had a wife he returned to every night, and she… she didn’t want to be a shadow in anyone’s marriage.

“It’s unfair, Alexei.” Her voice sounded quieter, but no less intense. “I’m not the kind of woman who shares. And you know that.”

Back home, you tried not to fall apart. Your routine became a desperate cycle of busyness, trying to keep the house spotless, planning meetings, but none of it filled the growing emptiness. It was in the silence that the tears came, without warning, as you wondered how everything had become so fragile.

And then the nausea began. First, a slight malaise, which you attributed to fatigue. Then, a constant nausea, which seemed to intensify along with your anguish.

Alexei noticed, of course. He wasn’t blind to the changes in you—your lost gaze, your trembling hands, your increasingly hesitant responses. One night, he found you crying silently in the living room, your face hidden in your hands.

“My love…” he began, kneeling beside you. “What’s happening? Tell me, please.”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. How could you explain something that even you didn’t fully understand?

Alexei tried to take care of you in his own way. He brought you warm broth, promised to stay home longer, held your hand as if that would be enough to seal the cracks. But even as he did so, something in him remained distant.

And it was Anna that his thoughts fell upon when the silence of the house became unbearable. She was the opposite of what he had known, a breath of life amidst conformity. But he knew he was being cruel, to you, to himself, to Anna. And yet, it didn’t stop.

While you faced the loneliness and growing discomfort, Anna, in turn, began to feel an anger she couldn’t hide. The idea that Alexei was going back to another woman night after night was intolerable.

“You need to decide,” she said in a firm tone, her arms crossed as he looked at her, speechless. “I won’t be your second option, Alexei. If that’s what you want, leave. Now.”

He didn’t answer, and the silence between them was as heavy as any accusation.

Anna and Alexei had been apart for a few days, but the distance was never more than a pause. It only took a chance encounter — or maybe not so chance — for the attraction between them to rekindle. He saw her from afar at a social event, talking and laughing with a naturalness that seemed to light up the room. She saw him too, and a corner of her mouth formed, full of meanings that only they understood.

At home, you began to connect the dots of your nausea. It was hard to ignore the way the smell of some dishes, once appetizing, now made you nauseous. But you kept your suspicions to yourself, until Natalia, always so attentive, pulled you aside one morning.

“Madam, forgive me for being blunt, but I think I know what’s happening to you.” The maid hesitated before continuing, her voice low and careful. “It could be that… you’re expecting a baby.”

Her words were a shock and, at the same time, a spark of hope. Natalia helped you call a doctor in secret, a trustworthy man who guaranteed discretion. After a brief consultation, he confirmed what you already suspected:

“Congratulations, ma’am. It looks like you’re in the first weeks of pregnancy. Make sure you get plenty of rest and avoid unnecessary worries.”

The news was like a ray of sunshine breaking through dense clouds. It was the first time in a long time that you felt truly happy. The idea of a child was not just a blessing — it was a promise of renewal, a new chance for your life with Alexei, something that could bring you closer together. Without realizing it, you had adopted the habit of running your hands over your belly, whispering little promises to the baby you couldn’t yet hear:

“You will be loved. Always. And you will have everything you need.”

One afternoon, while embroidering in the living room, you lost yourself in thought. Your fingers worked almost automatically, transforming a piece of linen into something delicate and intimate. The embroidery that was taking shape was of a small flower surrounded by arabesques, an image that referenced Alexei's family crest. A gesture that, in a way, linked the father's inheritance to the son's future.

You were so absorbed that you didn't hear Alexei enter the room.

"You're distracted, my love." His voice sounded low, but close enough to startle you.

The sudden movement caused you to prick yourself with the needle.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, bringing your injured finger to your mouth.

Before you could react, Alexei was at your side. He took your hand carefully, observing the small spot of blood.

"Let me see." His voice had a tone that bordered on authoritative, but his movements were incredibly gentle. He pressed his finger delicately, assessing the damage before bringing his lips to the small wound, sealing it with a gesture that made your heart falter.

Alexei, with his always impeccable posture, looked more tired than usual. His eyes, an intense blue that reminded you of winter skies, were shadowed with the hint of restless nights of sleep. His golden hair was slightly disheveled, and you noticed there was something almost vulnerable in the way he kept his expression neutral, as if carrying the weight of something he couldn’t share.

“You need to be more careful,” he said, with a slight frown that quickly softened. He looked down at the embroidery in his hands and arched an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

You tried to hide the linen, but it was too late.

“Oh… nothing much. Just something to pass the time.”

“Nothing much?” Alexei narrowed his eyes, as if trying to guess the reason behind the drawing. “You’re happier these days. It… relieves me, you know?”

His words were sincere, and it touched you. Alexei might have been distant, but there was genuine concern there, even if it was expressed hesitantly, as if he himself didn’t know how to handle it.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” he continued, holding your hand for a moment longer than necessary. “There’s a lot I can’t control, but… you’re important to me. You always have been.”

You felt the weight of those words, but also the contradiction behind them. How could he say that, knowing what the others were whispering? Knowing that there might be a grain of truth to the rumors?

“Then why…” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

Alexei pulled his hand away, returning to his more formal posture, as if the moment had been a lapse. He cast one last glance at his embroidery before standing up.

“I’ll be in the office. If you need anything, please send for me.”

You watched him leave, and at the same time, something inside you remained torn between the warmth of your concern and the ice of the uncertainty he left behind.

Invitations to social events arrived frequently, but you rarely had the will to accept them. This time, however, was different. The news of the pregnancy seemed to have rekindled something inside you. As Natalia adjusted her dress, you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to see yourself as Alexei would see you.

The fabric of her dress flowed like water in the yellow light of the room. It was a deep blue, almost black, with silver details that sparkled with every movement. Her satin gloves came up to her elbows, and a simple diamond chain rested over her elegant neckline. Her hair was tied in a low bun, with a few strands strategically loose to frame your face. For a tiny moment, you allowed yourself to believe that there were no problems, that your life was as beautiful as it seemed in the reflection.

The theater was a masterpiece of gold and velvet. Huge chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, casting a warm light that bathed the boxes and the audience. The walls were adorned with mirrors and ornaments that seemed to dance in the light. You walked up the stairs with Alexei, feeling the light touch of his hand on your back, guiding you gently.

In the box, the seats were padded, covered in crimson brocade. You settled in next to Alexei, feeling almost safe in that moment. The murmur of the crowd filled the space, a distant sound that seemed to match the growing anticipation for the show.

Then it hit you. Alexei’s gaze was lost in the audience, crossing the distance like an arrow. You didn’t need to follow his gaze to know who he had found.

She was there. Anna.

You knew it before you even saw her. There was something in the way Alexei took a deep breath, the way his shoulders tensed. Still, your gaze shifted, and then you saw her. She was gorgeous, a vibrant red dress that seemed like a challenge, hugging her figure with unshakable confidence. Her hair was loose in perfect waves, falling over her shoulders. When she laughed—oh, that laugh—the people around her seemed to lean in like sunflowers facing the sun.

It was impossible not to compare. You were beautiful, yes, but Anna was a force of nature. There was something about her that transcended appearances. She was magnetic, and worst of all, she seemed unaware of her power.

When the break came, people began to stand, some going to get refreshments, others just to stretch their legs. You and Alexei were silent when she appeared, as if drawn by an invisible magnet.

“Alexei.” Anna’s voice was low, but it carried a natural musicality. Then her eyes fell on you. “And this must be your wife. What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Your smile was impeccable, polite, but you felt the hidden blade beneath her words.

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Karenina.” Your voice was firm, but there was a tension in her shoulders that you knew she would notice.

“Anna, please. Formalities between us seem so… unnecessary.” She tilted her head slightly, as if assessing you. “You are even more charming than I imagined.”

You murmured a thank you, aware of Alexei’s gaze darting between you and Anna as if he were trying to navigate a minefield.

“And you, Anna, look, as always… stunning.” Alexei’s voice broke the silence, and the weight of his words was palpable.

For a moment, Anna looked away from him. It was brief, but long enough that you felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath your feet. The way they looked at each other… there was no need for words.

The conversation continued, polite and courteous, but each sentence was loaded with hidden meaning, like a game of emotional chess. You realized that Anna wasn’t just beautiful; she was perceptive, intelligent, and knew exactly how to use those qualities.

“I hope this evening is memorable for both of you,” Anna said finally, with a smile that seemed almost sincere. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

When she walked away, you felt the weight of the comparisons that inevitably arose. Her posture, her grace, her naturalness… it was hard not to feel small in front of her.

Back in the box, the silence between you and Alexei was almost unbearable. When he touched your hand, just to help you sit down, the heat of his fingers seemed to burn your skin. You wanted to scream, to ask him what she had that you didn’t, but you remained silent. The show started again, but you could barely pay attention. Your thoughts were caught up in Anna, in Alexei’s gaze, and in the growing abyss between the two of you.

When you arrived home, the stillness of the night seemed to stretch even longer than before. The air was thick, permeated with a tension that neither of you dared to break. Alexei led you to the mirror, his eyes dark and attentive. With almost automatic movements, he removed the clips that held your hair, one by one, with reverent delicacy. His hands, firm but careful, touched your scalp, relieving the pressure, and you closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the touch and the lightness of the moment.

Silence spread between you, and you could feel the distance that had settled since the theater. You, with a heavy heart, tried to ignore the echo of those images, the way Anna caught your attention, her beauty, her magnetic presence. Alexei, unconsciously, cast furtive glances, and you, without needing more, knew that his thoughts were far away.

Suddenly, without warning, the tears formed and fell, silent, as if they were a chain that had been waiting for a long time to break. The tip of his fingers gently touched your face, the warm tears still on your skin.

“What is it?” He spoke, his voice low, full of a tenderness that seemed tailor-made for you.

You looked at him, and for a moment, the words were stuck, but the question escaped with a thread of voice, so broken that it seemed like a whisper:

“You… you don’t want me anymore?”

The question seemed like a blade, cutting through the air. Alexei stepped back a little, his eyes wide with surprise, but soon the expression gave way to compassion. He came closer, touching your face with his fingertips, as if he was afraid that you would fall apart in his hands.

“Never say that, never.” His voice was firmer now, and his eyes, which had previously been filled with tension, now reflected a softness that you couldn’t fully understand.

The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same anymore. You shook your head, a tired denial, and your voice, choked, made the air around you seem colder.

“Prove it to me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling with something inside, and then, with an expression of resignation and affection, he answered, in a tone so sincere that it almost hurt:

“I’ll show you, today. I’ll show you that I still want you.”

And that was how the night turned into an intertwining of touches and whispers, a desire that materialized in a careful, almost reverent way. He kissed your as if each contact was an oath, a commitment that he tried to seal on her skin and in your heart. You felt that he was sharing something, something that couldn’t be ignored — an internal struggle between affection and what was still left in his mind. But at that moment, with every touch, there was a real effort to connect, to show that desire, no matter how much it was confused with guilt and doubt, was still there.

The night was made of touches that spoke louder than any words. Alexei's body moved with a care you had never seen before, each gesture an attempt to fix what was broken. He knew it wasn't a solution, he knew the abyss still existed, but that night, as the two of you met, there was no room for fear — there was only now.

When dawn began to tint the sky with shades of orange and pink, you rested in his arms, exhausted and satisfied, your heart still beating with the memory of the night. The world was coming back into existence in its fullness, but a question still haunted your mind, one you didn't dare to speak out loud:

Why couldn't things always be like this?

The answer remained unexplored, somewhere far away from you, but for now, as the sun began to rise, the only thing that mattered was the promise, still uncertain, that he would be there. Even if the dilemma continued, even if love was divided, at least for that moment, there was something you could believe in.

The afternoon was filled with a light breeze that moved with a whisper, as if it were a warning, a caution. You sat in the armchair next to the window, with the needle in your hands, your eyes fixed on the work in progress. The embroidery fabric was still stained with soft lines, but the thought of your son's layette brought some peace to your heart. But that peace was shattered by a sudden pain that shot through you, a stab so sharp that the world seemed to stop for a second.

You lifted the skirt of your dress with trembling hands and a scream escaped your lips before you could contain it. The sight of those red stains, fierce and cruel, made you tremble, fear spreading through every cell of your body. The pain was overwhelming, but nothing compared to the feeling of terror of losing what was growing inside you.

“Natalia!” Your voice was a lament, a desperate whisper that echoed through the room, each word filled with fear and helplessness. The sound of your own screams seemed distant, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart. You fell to your knees, your vision blurred by the tears that flowed uncontrollably.

The blood. The merciless red. Cruel. It was all you could see.

“Please… No… Not my baby.” The words were mumbled, disjointed, a thin thread of plea as your trembling hands held your belly in desperation. The pain was more than physical; it was a growing emptiness, a loss you weren’t ready to accept.

The hurried footsteps echoed through the house before Natalia burst through the door.

“Oh my God, ma’am! What happened?”

“Natalia, please… save him. Please do something!” Your voice barely came out, muffled by sobs, as you gripped the maid’s arm with a strength that seemed impossible for someone so fragile at that moment. “I can’t lose him, Natalia. He’s all I have. All I… Please!”

Natalia, pale with horror, knelt beside you, trying to calm you down while struggling to hide her own panic.

“Calm down, ma’am, calm down. I’ll call the doctor. Just stay with me. Breathe, please!”

But you barely heard her. The heat of the blood running down your legs was a constant reminder of what was being ripped from you, cruel and without warning.

Meanwhile, Alexei walked along the path that led to the woods, the cool breeze caressing his face with a cruel gentleness, as if the environment did not understand the weight he carried in his chest. Each step seemed heavier, each breath more difficult, as if his conscience fought against his body, insisting that he return. But he kept going. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

When he saw her, sitting on a carefully laid blanket, with a picnic basket beside her, her eyes shining with expectation, he hesitated. Anna was everything that should be perfect – beautiful, charming, captivating. But at the same time, she was a constant reminder of everything he was destroying.

“You came…” Her voice carried a softness that should have calmed him, but only increased the guilt that consumed him.

“I shouldn’t have,” he murmured, but still sat down next to her. The words were true, but his presence there made them empty.

Anna smiled, as if she hadn’t heard or as if she believed he didn’t mean it. Her hands touched his, soft, hesitant, but not rejecting. He should push her away. But he didn’t. The silence between them was heavy, each moment of stillness stretching the tension to the limit.

Then Anna moved closer. Her fingers slid over Alexei’s face, her eyes searching for something in his—a permission, perhaps, or a reciprocity she already believed was there. When her lips touched his, for an instant, Alexei gave in. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Every lingering touch, every lingering look, every time he’d allowed her to come closer—it had all been pointing to this moment. And now that he was here, how could she back away?

The kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as if they were both trying to erase doubts and insecurities in the heat of the moment. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as his thoughts tangled in a confusing whirlwind. This was what he wanted. This was what he was supposed to want.

But then her hands began to unbutton his shirt, and something inside him stopped. These weren’t the hands he wanted. These weren’t the kisses he wanted. The realization hit him like a blow, crushing any illusion he’d been trying to nurture.

“Anna, no.” He held her hands, firmly but not harshly. The surprise in her eyes hurt more than he expected.

“Alexei…? What is it?” Her voice was confused, almost a whisper, as if she were trying to comprehend a rupture she hadn’t anticipated.

He was slow, an abrupt movement that left him standing, while she was still kneeling on the blanket.

“I’m so sorry.” The words came out quickly, but they sounded insufficient, empty in the face of what he knew they had for her. “I can’t go through with this, Anna. I can’t.”

“Why? Isn’t this what you want?” Her question was sharp, but there was pain in her voice, a vulnerability he couldn’t bear.

He ran his hand over his face, his fingers pressed against his temples as if to stave off the internal conflict tearing him apart.

“I thought it was. But I was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Her disbelief was palpable. “Are you telling me that this… us… doesn’t mean anything?”

“Anna, I don’t know what this means. I just know that… I can’t do this to her. Not anymore.”

She found herself gasping, as if the words had been a physical blow. Alexei knew he had hurt her, but there was no other way.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice low, barely audible.

He turned away from her before he could change his mind, each step back onto the trail feeling like an act of self-punishment. Your face, the pain in your eyes, the frustration and anger—all of it following him, like a ghost he knew he would carry with him forever.

On the way home, the silence of the forest seemed to mock him. Each decision, each choice took him further away from the peace he so desired. But one thing was clear: he needed to renew what was left.

When he finally saw the house, the familiarity of the sight hit him hard. Inside, you were there—the woman he swore to protect, to care for, to love. The woman he hurt every day with his absences, his lies, his indecision.

Alexei walked into the house, feeling the weight of each step. Something was wrong. The lack of noise, the way none of the servants looked directly at him, as if they were afraid that any word or gesture might ignite a flame they could not control.

“What’s going on?” His voice was firm, but with an urgency he could not disguise.

The servants hesitated, but it was the housekeeper who finally answered, her voice low and careful: “It’s your wife, sir… She… The doctor is with her now.”

Before she could finish, Alexei was already climbing the stairs, his heart racing in his chest. Each second seemed like an eternity, the echo of his footsteps amplifying the fear that was growing in his mind.

When he reached the bedroom, he stopped in the doorway, his body tense. The doctor was talking in whispers to the housekeeper, gesturing discreetly. The scene before him was a nightmare. You were lying in bed, the sheets disheveled around your pale body. Your fragility was a cruel blow – a vibrant, lively woman seemed broken, almost unrecognizable.

“What happened?” He was elegant, his voice sharp, almost desperate.

The doctor turned to him, straightening his jacket before answering.

“Your wife had a serious scare. There was some bleeding, but fortunately the baby is fine.”

The doctor’s words hung in the air, and Alexei felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. A baby. He blinked in disbelief as the weight of the information descended upon him. What had once been a distant murmur was now a deafening scream in his mind. You were pregnant. You were pregnant, and he didn’t know it.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Your sudden improvement a few days ago, the way the laughter had slowly returned to your voice, how you seemed lighter, almost radiant. And he… He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t paid attention to the little signs.

Alexei raised a trembling hand to his forehead, unable to shake off the whirlwind of thoughts. How could he have been so blind? He, who should have known your better than anyone, had failed to notice something so significant, something that should have been shared and celebrated by both of them.

He didn’t need to ask why he hadn’t been called sooner. He knew the answer. He knew exactly where he was. He knew exactly who he was with. Guilt hit him like a blow, stealing his breath. There were no excuses, only the knowledge that he had failed you—again.

When he finally managed to take a few hesitant steps toward the bed, his eyes fixed on your belly, where his seed grew, protected but barely lost. His chest tightened, an almost unbearable knot. Here was something he hadn’t even known he had, and it had almost been ripped from him without him having the fight to keep it.

“Alexei…” Your weak voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he knelt beside the bed, holding your hand with a gentleness that seemed to contradict the storm raging inside him.

Your eyes were half-closed, the lids heavy with exhaustion, but there was a glint of pain he couldn’t bear.

“I’m so sorry…” Your voice shook, each word filled with overwhelming guilt. “I failed you. With… with the baby.”

He shook his head, his fingers squeezing your lightly, as if he wanted to push the pain away with his touch.

“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

But he knew whose fault it was. Not yours, never yours. Every bit of blame, every mistake and omission was his. Alexei looked down at your belly again, unable to contain the tightness in his throat.

“You’re safe now. And the baby too. I’m here.” He tried to sound firm, but his voice was a broken whisper.

You closed your eyes again, exhaustion overcoming you, but not before a single tear ran down the side of your face. Alexei watched you in silence, his heart torn by the fragility you showed.

Natalia, standing near the door, took a small step forward, hesitant but determined to speak. “She called for you.”

Alexei turned his face to her, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“What?”

“As she cried, in despair. She called out to you.”

The words pierced him like blades. He looked away, feeling the weight of her absence crush him even more. How many times had you called out to him? How many times had he not been there when you needed him?

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against your hand, his eyes closed in a mixture of relief and despair.

“Never again,” he whispered, the promise escaping his lips like a prayer. “Never again will you call out to me and not answer.”

And as the night deepened around them, Alexei stood there, beside your, in silence. For the first time in a long time, he felt that the silence was more deafening than any storm.

The days that followed were an exhausting mix of silence and tension. Alexei seemed like a man possessed by an almost desperate determination, willing to do anything to ensure his wife’s well-being. He had the finest dishes the chef could prepare brought to you, even if you barely touched them. He hired musicians to play softly in the garden, hoping the music would help ease your paleness. He brought expensive fabrics, delicate jewelry, perfumes from faraway lands.

The mornings were always filled with Alexei at your side, urging her to eat another spoonful, to take a few steps into the room. When afternoon fell, he would have your sit by the window, the view of the garden filling the space where words failed between them.

But nothing seemed to work.

You didn’t push him away. You didn’t refuse his care. But the distance between you grew every day, a chasm that Alexei didn’t know how to cross. He could feel it in the stiffness of your shoulders when he entered the room, in the gaze that hadn’t met his for a long time.

And then came the blow he hadn’t expected.

You knew.

He realized the moment your gaze finally met his, charged with something he had never seen before. It wasn’t anger, but something worse. It was the stillness of someone who was too hurt to confront, the resignation of someone who had lost something that could not be recovered.

He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You were with her.” Your voice cut through the air like a thread of ice.

Alexei froze. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to make up an excuse, anything. But the lies stuck in his throat like a tight rope, because deep down, he knew that you deserved more than your lies.

“I… I didn’t want it to be like this,” he murmured, his voice so low it sounded like a lost echo.

You laughed, a bitter sound he’d never heard come from your lips.

“I didn’t want it to be like this? Then how should it be, Alexei?”

His name on your lips was like a slap. There was no affection, only the cold formality of someone who’s given up the fight.

“I didn’t know about the baby,” he said, his voice shaking. “If I had known… if I had known…”

You interrupted him with a weak gesture of your hand.

“And would it have made a difference? Would you have stayed by my side? Or would I have been just another responsibility to balance between your escapades?”

Alexei fell to his knees beside the bed, his eyes pleading. He wanted to say yes, that everything would have been different, that he would have chosen you and his son above all else. But the words wouldn’t come, because he knew he couldn’t erase her—Anna—from his mind with mere promises.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he finally said, his hands shaking as they held yours.

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears.

“But you did. And now I don’t know how to fix it, Alexei. I don’t know if it’s possible.”

Silence fell between you again, heavy as a stone. Alexei lowered his head, his breathing ragged.

“I want to try,” he whispered. “For you. For the baby. For us.”

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to slide silently down your face. You didn’t answer, and Alexei felt his heart break a little more. He released you slowly, feeling as if you were slipping through his fingers, a fragile rope fraying under the weight of your own mistakes.

As he left the room, Alexei stopped when he heard Natalia whisper to another servant:

“They try to protect her from everything, but what is really destroying the lady of the house is here inside.”

The weight of the words hit him like a blow. He knew that it was not only her body that needed rest, but her heart that he had broken.

And for the first time, Alexei had to face the possibility that there might be no way to mend what he himself had destroyed.

The distance between you became more palpable every day. Alexei felt it in your gestures, in the way you looked away when he entered the room, in the short words that left a cold space where there had once been warmth.

He knew he had no right to demand anything, much less forgiveness. But despair was a hungry animal that consumed him, tearing away pieces of his sanity with every blank look you threw in his direction.

When you announced that you were changing rooms, he froze. Since the wedding, there had not been a single night in which you had slept apart.

“Is this necessary?” he heard himself ask, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if your answer could crush him.

You just nodded, without even looking up at him.

That night, Alexei wandered the house like a lost soul. Sitting in the darkness of the empty room, he stared at the bed where you should have been, your absence an oppressive presence that stole the air from his lungs. He didn’t know what to do, how to bear it. The bed seemed bigger, the room colder, the silence deafening.

And then he saw you. The next morning, as he walked down the hallway to his new room, the door was ajar. Alexei stopped. He didn’t want to invade that space that was no longer his, but something compelled him to look.

You were sitting by the window, the sunlight gently touching your face. One of your hands rested on your belly, and there was a smile on your lips. A smile he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“My little miracle…” you murmured, your voice soft, as if you were talking to the baby you were carrying.

Alexei felt his heart tighten. He should have been by your side, participating in that moment. He wanted to be the one with whom you would share your hopes and dreams for the future. But now, he was just a spectator from afar, like a stranger looking through the window of a life that was no longer yours.

He didn’t dare interrupt. He stayed there, quiet, until you slowly got up, supported by Natalia, and disappeared into the room.

The days dragged on. He dedicated every moment to trying to win back something, anything, but you remained distant. He no longer saw the warmth in your eyes, only an icy formality, a barrier he didn't know how to cross.

Sometimes, he heard you talking to the baby. Little promises, loving words that made his heart ache. He wanted to kneel right there and beg for a chance, for a moment of grace. He wanted to tell you that he didn't know how he had lost so much. That now he saw.

Because now he saw.

He saw in the expressions of the servants who passed by him, the veiled judgment in each furtive glance. He saw in his own eyes when he looked at himself in the mirror, the emptiness that had taken over his face. For the first time, he saw himself outside the lens of fascination that had blinded him, outside the lies he had told to justify his actions.

But none of that seemed enough to fix what he had broken.

At night, when he lay in his empty bed, the darkness seemed to weigh on him. He wondered if you thought of him as he thought of you. If, when you caressed his belly, you imagined him as the father of that child, or if he was already a specter in your memory. And he knew that, no matter how hard he tried, your forgiveness was not something he could demand. It was something you would give, or not, and he would have to accept it. But the waiting, the silence, the distance, were a hell he didn't know how to bear.

That night, he sat in the empty room and whispered to the darkness: "Forgive me. Please… forgive me."

But the only answer was silence.

A few more days passed. The mansion, with its spacious halls and impeccably silent corridors, seemed smaller, more suffocating. Still, you kept trying. The weather, the garden, the cold breeze that announced the arrival of a new season — everything was an effort on her part to find some balance, to not let herself succumb to chaos again.

Your belly, although still discreet, was already the center of everything. The servants avoided talking more than necessary, moving carefully around you, as if each word could be another weight on your shoulders. But you were tired. Not of living, perhaps, but of suffering for him.

The walk in the garden came as an unexpected relief. The flowers were still resisting the beginning of autumn, and the wind, although cold, did not seem merciless. There, for a few minutes, your thoughts about Alexei gave way to a momentary peace.

But the calm never lasted long.

That same afternoon, while you were strolling through the streets, something caught your attention. It was a small shop with modest windows, where baby clothes were carefully displayed. You hesitated, but ended up going in.

Inside, the soft colors and soft fabric of the clothes seemed to scream promises of a better future. Your fingers touched a specific piece — a light blue jumpsuit with small, delicate embroidery. He looked so small, so fragile, that for a moment you closed your eyes and allowed the image of a baby to fill your mind.

A boy, you thought. He would have eyes like Alexei’s. And the smile too, that smile that once brightened your days.

The thought came without warning, but it brought a wave of mixed emotions. You didn’t know what it meant—this longing, this inevitable connection between the baby and the man who had broken your heart. But the tightness in your chest was real.

You bought the onesie. When you left the store, the fabric still in your hands, you realized you were shaking.

On the way back home, your steps seemed slower, as if they carried the weight of everything that had been unsaid, of everything that still hurt. The idea of a new beginning, something that had once been a promise for you and Alexei, now seemed uncertain. How could you possibly rebuild something with so many pieces around it?

But as you held that piece of clothing, too small to imagine a body inside it, a silent truth began to take shape. No matter what happened to you and Alexei, that baby was real. He was the hope in the midst of chaos, even if you didn’t yet know how to fully grasp it.

And deep down, even without wanting to, you knew. Part of you still wished things were different, that he was different. That the warmth would return to your eyes, that he would be the father you imagined when you held the onesie in your hands.

The days passed with an unbearable slowness for Alexei. He tried desperately to find ways to get closer to you, but all his attempts seemed to be lost in the void. Dinner that night, the first you would share in weeks, seemed like a small miracle to him. The table was set, the delicate aroma of carefully prepared dishes filled the room, but the euphoria in your chest soon gave way to an anxiety that was hard to ignore.

You were serious, but not hostile. There were no more tears, nor any looks filled with pain. There was a calm that, for Alexei, was even more frightening.

The meal passed with little more than the sound of silverware, and he struggled to create some dialogue, anything that could fill the silence. But then you spoke, and your words shattered the faint hope he had.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your voice low but firm, as your eyes remained fixed on your plate. “I think it would be better for everyone if I moved to another house.”

Alexei froze. The knife slipped from his hand and hit the plate with a loud clang that echoed through the room. He looked at you, confused, as if he couldn’t have heard you correctly.

“What?” he barely managed to whisper, his voice hoarse and incredulous.

You didn’t look away, even as you felt your chest tighten at the look on his face.

“It’s not uncommon. Lots of ladies do it,” you continued, your tone almost clinical, as if you were explaining something obvious. “It’s a practical solution. I would be fine, and you could have your life… with whoever you want.”

The words were like knives, stabbing one by one into his heart. He shook his head slowly, as if denying the reality you were proposing.

“No…” Alexei murmured, standing up from his chair with an abrupt movement. He approached you, almost tripping over his own feet, his voice louder now, more desperate. “Don’t say that, please. Don’t do that.”

But you remained where you were, looking at him with an expression that seemed both hard and fragile.

“It’s not fair, Alexei. You could… keep seeing Anna, without having to worry about me.”

He interrupted before you could say more, urgency brimming with each word: “There is no more Anna.”

The silence that followed was sharp.

You blinked, disbelief evident in your eyes. Alexei took a step forward, as if he needed to close the physical distance to reach you somehow.

“It’s over. I… I broke up with her. There’s nothing between us anymore, I swear.”

Your expression remained firm, but he saw the doubt in your eyes, the hesitation.

“Why would I believe you now?” Your voice shook, but you kept your tone controlled.

He took a deep breath, running a hand over his face, the gesture of an exhausted and defenseless man.

“Because I couldn’t go on, not after…” He hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “Not after realizing what I was risking. What I almost lost.”

Alexei knelt in front of you, his hands gripping yours with desperate strength, as if the mere contact could stop you from pulling away any further.

“I was a fool, a complete idiot, and I know that… that my apologies may not mean anything now. But please, believe me. There is no one else. Just you. Just you and…” He looked down at your belly, his gaze softening for a moment, before returning to your face, so full of hurt. “And our son.”

You wanted to believe him. A part of you screamed to accept those words, to allow the pain to be replaced by something sweeter. But there were wounds that were still raw, and the fear of getting hurt again was too great.

“Alexei… I…” You began, but the words died on your lips.

He felt the wall between you, knew that his words, as sincere as they were, might not be enough.

“Please, don’t go.” He spoke again, his tone lower, almost a whisper. “I know I have no right to ask this, but I… I don’t know how to live without you.”

The weight of his declaration hung between you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. But you looked away, unable to bear the intensity in his eyes.

And yet, even when your hands released his, he didn’t pull away. He remained there, kneeling, caught between guilt and hope, waiting for a miracle that might never come.

The weeks that followed were a slow unraveling of us. The distance between you two still existed, but it was no longer an unbridgeable chasm. There were shared glances that lasted a little longer, less charged silences, gestures that seemed to seek something beyond the surface. And although fear still inhabited your chest, you didn’t leave.

That afternoon, the room was silent, the discreet sound of the fireplace being your only companion as you read. Alexei was there too, sitting in a nearby armchair with a book that seemed more like a disguise than something he was actually reading. He kept stealing glances at you, as if he was afraid of missing some detail of your expression.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and almost hesitant: “Can I… can I touch your belly?”

The question hung in the air, and you looked up from your book, meeting his. For a moment, Alexei almost regretted asking it, afraid that you would refuse. But to his surprise, you nodded slightly, a shy but genuine permission.

He approached you slowly, kneeling beside you as if each movement were a silent prayer. When his hand finally rested on the soft fabric covering your belly, it was with an almost reverent delicacy. He held his hand there, still, as if afraid that a bolder gesture might break the moment.

The heat from his palm seemed to pass through your skin, and you watched him as he leaned in slightly, his eyes shining in a way that made your heart clench. He was smiling, a soft but genuine smile, so full of happiness that it was impossible to ignore.

“He’s… still so young,” Alexei murmured, almost to himself, his voice choked with emotion.

You just nodded, unable to answer. Something inside you broke at that moment, and tears began to sting your eyes. It was impossible to reconcile the man in front of you, so vulnerable, so in love with something that was still just a promise of life, with the same man who had broken your heart.

He looked up at you, and for an instant, the connection between you was so strong that it seemed like nothing else existed. But the pain was still there, mixed with the tenderness of that moment.

“Alexei…” Your voice broke a little, and it took you a moment to gather your courage. “Tell me about her. About Anna.”

He froze, the happiness on his face replaced by an almost palpable hesitation.

“I don’t know if…” he began, but you interrupted him, your voice firmer now.

“Please. I need to know.”

Alexei took a deep breath, the weight of the confession weighing on him. Finally, he pulled away a little, sitting next to you on the couch, but keeping his hand on your belly as if it were his anchor.

“The rumors…” He began, choosing his words carefully. “They say we were in love. That there was… something between us. But that’s not true.”

You remained silent, allowing him to continue, although you felt your chest tighten with tension.

“There was never a night of love. There was never anything physical.” He shook his head, his eyes locked on yours. “I was foolish, I was blind. I fell for her… for an idea of her, maybe. It was like… something I couldn’t have, and it made me want her even more.”

Alexei paused, his fingers lightly touching your belly, as if the gesture gave him the strength to continue.

“I wasn’t in love with her. Not really. How could I be? She was… an empty dream, a distraction. I was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. And by the time I did, I had already hurt you.”

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to finally escape, running silently down your cheeks. He leaned in slightly, his free hand hovering in the air as if he wanted to wipe them away, but didn’t dare.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was a whisper, filled with regret. “If I could go back, I would change everything. But now, all I can do is ask… ask that one day you forgive me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but there was something different about it. It was no longer the oppressive emptiness of before, but something more… full of possibilities. And although you still didn’t have answers for everything, in that moment, you allowed it to stay.

Because, maybe, this was a start.

The days began to pass differently. The void that had seemed insurmountable between the two of you was now slowly being filled, not with the certainties that had once existed, but with something new. Alexei was present in a way he hadn’t been before, and every gesture, no matter how small, seemed to carry a greater meaning.

He was no longer just the husband you knew, but a man who seemed to strive to be worthy of any space in your life again. There were flowers left on your dressing table, always your favorites, though he never gave them to you directly. There were short notes with kind words placed next to your tea. Little things that you began to notice and eventually treasure.

The visits from the ladies close to you also contributed to this new rhythm. When they arrived, they brought with them not only laughter and pleasant conversation, but also a natural curiosity about how you were doing. They were different from the ladies who had come before, full of snide comments and innuendo. These were your friends, the ones who seemed genuinely concerned.

As they drank tea in the sunlit living room, one of them casually commented:

“It’s funny… no one sees Anna around anymore. It seems she’s gone back to her life, with her husband, as if nothing had happened.”

The remark made the room go silent for a moment, and you felt your heart sink, but you forced yourself to maintain your composure.

“Maybe it’s for the best for her.” Your answer was calm, almost rehearsed, as you sipped your tea.

“No doubt.” Another lady agreed. “After all, it was all so… scandalous. But it’s good that things are getting back to normal.”

The subject changed quickly, but the words stayed with you, a reminder of something that still weighed on you, even when you wanted to let it go.

Alexei kept trying, and each day seemed like a new opportunity for him to show you that he was there for you. One morning, while you were tending the flowers in the garden, he appeared, shy as someone who fears rejection.

“Can I help you?” The question was simple, but the tone begged for a yes.

You hesitated for a moment before handing him the pruning shears, allowing him to join you. The minutes that followed were calm, with him working beside you in silence, until, at some point, he began to speak.

“I know that nothing I do can erase what happened. But I want you to know… I will never do anything like that again.”

You paused, watching him as he continued, his voice full of sincerity:

“I will never let anything or anyone hurt you like that because of me again. I promise, with everything I am.”

His words touched something inside you, but it was hard to know if they were enough. Still, you didn’t pull your hand away when he lightly touched yours.

The nights changed too. Although you still slept in separate rooms, there were times when he would stay by your side for longer, talking quietly about the future, about the baby. He asked questions, listened carefully to your answers, and his eyes shone in a way that made something in your chest tighten.

“I want to be here. I want to be the father our son deserves.” He said one night, and there was sincerity in every word.

It was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that, with a vulnerability you had never seen before. And even though the fear was still there, you began to let it in again, little by little, like sunlight filtering through the cracks in a curtain.

Things were still not the same. Maybe they never would be. But for the first time, you began to believe that they could be something new.

The night was quiet, the silence filled only by the sound of Alexei’s voice as he read softly, careful not to disturb the peace of the moment. He was sitting in the armchair next to your bed, holding the book with steady hands, but his eyes often strayed to you, searching for signs of fatigue or, perhaps, some trace that your presence was more than just tolerated.

You were lying on your side, your eyes closed, but you weren’t sleeping. It was a relief, somehow, to hear something familiar, something that wasn’t accompanied by excuses or explanations. He read with the same passion he always had, the words coming out as if they were his own creation.

Then, when he finished the poem, a comfortable silence settled in.

“I like it when you read to me.” Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but true.

He paused, almost in disbelief, before responding with a small smile.

“I like it even more when I read to you.”

The room felt different that night, enveloped in something that went beyond comfort or closeness. It was as if the two of you were walking together in new territory, built on scarred ground but with real possibilities to flourish.

“Stay.” You murmured, the words spilling out before you could reconsider them.

Alexei’s gaze froze the moment he heard them, and he thought for a moment that he had imagined it.

“What?”

You opened your eyes, meeting his, and repeated a little more firmly:

“Stay the night.”

There was a second of hesitation, but only because he was trying to control the wave of emotion that threatened to overflow. Alexei nodded slowly, standing up carefully so as not to break the moment. He seemed nervous, almost as if it was the first time he had approached you this way, and maybe, in a way, it was.

He blew out the candle next to the armchair before lying down next to you, as if every movement could scare away the possibility of this moment existing. The bed seemed smaller with the two of you, but he didn’t complain, didn’t move more than necessary.

For a moment, he stayed there, just staring at the ceiling, unsure if you really wanted him to touch you. So when you turned onto your side and he felt your body settle closer, he took a deep breath and finally gathered his courage.

His arm slowly rose, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, until your body was completely fitted against his. Alexei’s breathing was shaky, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You didn’t respond, but you shifted slightly, adjusting to his warmth, which was answer enough. The closeness was a balm for Alexei, a kind of redemption he never dared ask for, but yearned for every day.

His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. Not yet. He was too busy memorizing every detail of that moment: the way your hair smelled, the rhythm of your breathing, the feel of your body against his.

“Do you still like me?” Your voice cut through the silence like a barely audible whisper.

Alexei paused, his throat tightening with the force of the question. He leaned in slightly, pressing his lips against the top of your head, the only response he could muster without breaking down completely. “I never stopped.” It was the last thing he said before you finally fell asleep, and he lay awake for a long time after that, holding you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever had—because to him, that’s exactly what you were.

The room was bathed in soft light, filtered through the curtains that danced lightly in the morning breeze. Alexei woke first, his eyes blinking against the brightness as he adjusted to the surroundings. For a moment, he lay still, as if afraid that any movement would undo the scene before him.

You were still asleep, your face relaxed, your breathing slow and even. He let out a sigh, not of exhaustion, but of relief. As hard as the journey here had been, there was something immensely comforting in simply being able to be by your side again.

His hand moved almost on its own, his fingers tracing invisible lines over your skin, from your shoulder to the delicate curve of your arm. He didn’t dare do more than that, afraid of intruding on the moment. But when you sighed in response, still asleep, he let a shy smile appear on his lips.

When your eyes finally opened, Alexei was already there, watching you with an intensity that almost seemed new, but at the same time familiar.

“Good morning.” He murmured, his voice low and a little hoarse from sleep.

You blinked a few times before answering, still adjusting to reality.

“Good morning.”

The soft voice made something in his chest tighten, and for a moment, he wanted to say everything he felt, but didn’t know where to start. So, he opted for something simpler, safer.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” You answered, your gaze meeting his. “And you?”

“Better than I deserve.” The confession was out before he could stop himself, and when he realized what he had said, he blushed slightly, looking away for a moment.

You studied him silently, noticing the still faint dark circles under his eyes, the way he looked anxious, but at the same time… content.

“Do you still tolerate me?” He asked, finally gathering the courage, though his voice carried a palpable hesitation.

The question made your heart clench, but you didn’t look away.

“Alexei…” You began, your voice thick with emotion. “It was never about tolerating. I never stopped loving you. That’s why it hurt so much.”

The words hit Alexei with the force of a wave, his breath catching in his throat. It took him a moment to process, but when he finally did, something in his gaze changed. It was a mix of relief, pain, and an emotion he couldn’t name, but it pulled him closer to you.

And then he couldn’t resist.

Your faces were inches apart, and the hesitation disappeared the moment your lips touched. The kiss started out timid, careful, as if you were both testing the waters after so long. But the initial softness gave way to something more intense, more urgent.

Alexei held your face in his hands, as if he needed to anchor you there, next to him. His lips moved with silent desperation, each touch loaded with months of unspoken words, of accumulated pain, of a love that, despite everything, had never disappeared.

You returned it with the same intensity, feeling his heat envelop you like a flame that didn’t burn, but healed. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if the space between you was unbearable.

When you finally pulled away, you were both panting, your faces close, testing the newly rediscovered intimacy. Alexei rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath and his words.

“I love you.” He whispered, his voice thick with vulnerability and conviction. “I always will.”

You didn’t respond with words, but the way your eyes sparkled was answer enough. And when your lips met his again, it felt like a silent promise that this time, things would be different.

#count vronsky x reader #count vronsky #alexei vronsky #alexei vronsky x reader #fanfiction #count vronsky x you #count vronsky x y/n #count vronsky fanfiction #anna karenina #angst #angst with a happy ending #atj #request #count alexei vronsky x reader #alexei vronsky fanfiction #count alexei vronsky #atj x you #atj x reader

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months ago

Text

BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM!

(ft. aaron taylor johnson characters)

ask: Idk if you do headcanons like these and I don't quite know how to get my ask into words. So, fluff, and positions that reader is usually in with the boys that you write for. I don't mean sexual positions, or cuddling ones, or any specific, just positions.

warnings: briefly sexual (nothing major)

includes - in said order

~ James Potter - harry potter marauder's era (yes ik it's technically a fancast but 🥺 he's my baby)

~ Tangerine - bullet train

~ Dave Lizewski - kick-ass

~ Count Alexei Vronksy - anna karenina 2012

~ Tom Ryder - the fall guy

~ Pietro Maximoff - avengers: age of ultron

~ hope you like this! kinda turned into relationship headcanons with a theme! ~

• James's love languages are a mix of physical touch and acts of service which means he always has his hands on you in some form or another!

• Holding your hand while you walk? Check. Having an arm around your shoulder when you're sitting on the couch? Check. Playing with your fingers/hair when he's bored in class? Check.

• Basically, he's a koala and you're his favorite tree.

• He walks with his hand in yours, your fingers intertwined (just holding them is for the weak) and he'll stroke his thumb on your palm.

• When he becomes agitated and can't sit still anymore, he'll bounce all around you and you physically cannot get him off you. It's times like those that means you aren't the little spoon anymore—he is.

• (Bonus points if you scratch his head while you spoon)

• James gives the best piggy-back rides. THE B E S T. He'll hold your hands in front of him, making you laugh as he runs around the common room (annoying everyone else) and then drops you on the couch. If you're laughing so hard you're crying his mission was successful.

• He loves when you lie against him. Not necessarily for cuddles but just when you're tired, or you're reading a book and he's being used as a prop lmao. He likes feeling useful!

• When he picks you up, he likes having you wrapped around him—your arms around his neck, his on your ass!

• Not in a sexual way but he likes leaning against your boobs and using one as an stress-ball if he can. He thinks your boobs/stomach are the best pillows ever.

• If he's still criss-cross, you'll always find yourself in his lap, playing with his fingers as he mumbles sweet nothings in your ear or just casually has a conversation with his friends.

• When James is talking to you, since he's taller than you (make him any height lmao canon don't matter—have your fun, babes), he'll hold your chin to help you look up at him. He tells you he can listen to you better if he focuses on you like this.

• It's bullshit but you don't care.

• You love wrapping your arms around his strong torso, feeling his muscles under your hands.

• Overall, James can NEVER take his hands off you. You're just his favorite girl!

• Tough guy pretends he doesn't like physical touch—and yeah, most of the time he does hate it. He's kind of a germaphobe and a neat freak so having strangers touch him? He'd rather put a bullet through their skull.

• Only, you aren't a stranger. You're his partner—his lover.

• Tangerine's favorite place where he holds you is around your waist, griping lightly onto whatever you're dressed in and squeezes your flesh. As in to say I'm here, I'll always be here for you.

• His love language is 100% quality time and acts of service. He loves being around you. He likes touching you in small ways, like resting his chin on your shoulder when you cook, or holding your hand in public and overwhelming situations (like in a bus, or a plane, or even walking in a crowded street).

• He's silly and overprotective like that 🤭

• When you're at dinners with friends, he'll always sit next to you. Always. He's facing the door in case something happens, his hand lightly touching your thigh as the conversation continues.

• Big spoon!! His hand gently resting on your stomach, his lips near your ear as he snores only gently. The blankets are a mess all tangled around you both.

• Random but Tangerine 100% likes his room cold!! So, the more blankets the more he's warm and toasty and he can snuggle you!

• He likes picking you up bridal style. 1. So he's all cute and like a handsome prince saving the princess (which makes you swat him over the head because ew) and 2. simply to display his own strength lmao.

• You guys will play-fight often. It's not even training—even though it's disguised as training—it's just him chasing you around the house and attacking you with tickles, smooches, and love-bites!

• He doesn't give you piggy-back rides necessarily—instead, it's more like during those play-fighting times you'll jump on his back and hold an arm around his neck while you laugh.

• Tangerine isn't phased and will often simply shrug you off him and send you a glare (hiding a smirk).

• You like trimming his facial hair while you sit on his lap. He's sitting on the toilet seat, a bowl of hot water on the sink beside him and he has you on his lap, carefully holding his face in your hands as you shave him/trim him and use the water to wipe the shaving cream away.

• Constantly pretends to dislike your attention in a joking way, but genuinely loves when you shower him with love! He's love starved fr.

• Dave is similar to James in the sense that he loves touching you whenever he's around you. He loves nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and leaving little kisses.

• He likes having his hand in yours when you walk around, or even if you're sitting and doing something—like watching a movie!

• His favorite position to be in when you're on the couch watching a movie is him sitting normally and you're tucked into his side, leaning on him. Poor lil dude sometimes forgets to watch the movie he's so enamored by you.

• When you're out grocery shopping, you like to stand on the cart with his arms around you from behind as he pushes the cart (if that makes sense! it's very cartoon-esque if you know what I mean) and he likes making funny impressions in your ear as you're pushed around the store.

• Dave likes making you laugh! Which means sometimes he settles for stupid jokes, but other times he gets into tickles you mercilessly when you're cuddling in bed. It's so bad you almost piss yourself and you have to push him off you.

• You retaliate—of course—almost breaking his glasses as he flops around the bed too much!

• Dave plays video-games, I feel like that's obvious and he likes when either you hang around him when he's playing or if you like sit in his lap and do your own thing, or watch along with him!

• Sometimes, he'll even let you eat his headphones so you can listen along and "play".

• If you're good at video games, you often take over hard levels for him and he doesn't at all feel threatened! Or maybe only once when Todd and Matry tease him about it but otherwise he likes that you're good at the games he isn't good at!

• Dave lets you try on his kick-ass mask! Which you find super fun and you have a blast, taking loads of cute selfies which you obviously can't show anyone!

• You make fun of him bc his mask is ugly (sorry 😃) but in a loving way because he pulls it off.

• Dave 🤝 peppering kisses all over you!

• Holds your bags for you (school, shopping, any bag) and he knows the side-walk rule! He also does that thing where if you bend over and there is something sharp, he's put his hand over the sharp corner (sometimes even subconsciously)

• DAVE LIZEWSKI IS SOO BOYFRIEND CORE 💞

• Alexei is obviously more formal given the time period and his social status. He grew up rich and well-educated, and he's a cavalry officer meaning he's well-trained in discipline! Which means, he's not a very obviously affectionate person in public!

• In other words—no PDA 🙂

• In public, he'll have his hand resting behind your back, he'll keep you close to him and he'll save all his dances with you but nothing more.

• In private? Oh, he's very affectionate.

• Neck and cheek kisses galore! Whenever he walks by you, he'll spin you around and then press a chaste kiss on your lips—complimenting you on your dress/hair.

• Sits close to you at dinners and he holds your hand under the table, stroking your thumb. It's intimate and private so he loves doing this!

• Alexei helps the maids with your corset and everything if he’s ready before you and he loves watching you put on your makeup and your jewelry. He finds it fascinating and he'll just sit on the bed and talk to you where your maids help you.

• Obviously, he loves going riding with Frou-Frou! He gifted you a horse so you could learn how to ride and you guys can go on picnics and ride around fields all cute 🥰

• While you have your own horse, he still wants you sitting in front of him on Frou-Frou most of the time, your back pressed to his chest as he takes control.

• Very very much into taking control on the relationship.

• He likes to dance with you! You'll have little dancing sessions in the parlor room and it's very very fun!

• Lights cigarettes for you! (like that scene in the movie, yk the one! I'm salivating!)

• OKAY TOM RYDER L O V E S TEASING.

• It's basically his love language! He's very much like a school boy who pulls girls hair in the playground because they like them…so immature at times 😀

• Still, he has his mature moments!

• Tom really likes having his arm around your waist, his palm flat on your stomach—claiming—as in saying you're his and only his.

• Say you're in a conversation with someone and Tom is around? Boom, he's by your side in seconds and he's holding you possessively. Fake smiles all around (yes, he's jealous)

• Tom likes taking you to his favorite restaurants (bonus points if it's fancy and he can see you all dressed up!) He'll pull out your chair and all that! Very gentlemanly when he wants to be!

• He likes laying his head on your lap when you're at home watching a movie or something. It's completely innocent and he especially loves when you play with his hair!

• You like to shower together—no further elaborations 🤫

• Back to the teasing—that means whenever he sees you on set, he'll make small comments or slap your ass and whistle. It can be seen as kinda hostile but you know he means well and you just flip him off if it really bothers you.

• Tom likes to assert his dominance, which means he'll do the thing if you're in the kitchen and he needs to walk by you, he'll lift you by your waist and manhandle you any way he wants.

• MANHANDLING IS HIS THING 😏

• Hand holding but it's his arm across your shoulder as you hold his hand. He likes doing this when you're walking around because he can be close to you!

• If you're a yapper, he'll always listen but he'll also get distracted so he does the humming thing and that's when you know you've lost him.

• You swat him on the back of the head if he's acting too dumb—which prompts him to chase you around and punish you with a thousand little kisses.

• Secretly a dork that acts all cool and shit 🙄

• Very sexual lmao. Horn-dog. Can making anything that isn't sexual—sexual. He'll grind against you unprompted and also pretend to fuck you from behind if ever you bend over!

• Big boob and ass guy so when he's cuddling with you, he'll need to hold onto one of the two or he'll whine like a child.

• "What? I'm just a guy, babe. I see 'em, I want 'em," is his favorite excuse 💞

• Pietro is hyper active and that means he loves doing active things with you: like running, or swimming, or any kind of sports.

• Super spontaneous so he'll just come home with a trip to go rock-climbing randomly and you're just 😀 huh, what?!

• Obviously because of his super-speed he loves to pick you up and have you in his arms while he runs. You guys can basically run everywhere lmao.

• Pietro likes when you dote on him when he's tired from running! He really likes when you play with his hair and make sure he stays hydrated because of all the exercise he inevitably does!

• He's BIG on being cared for 🤭 like treating his wounds after a mission!? He'll stay extremely still for that and grin so hard when you take care of him.

• BIG HUGGER! Fully wraps his entire arms around you like a teddy bear and kisses your neck!

• He's a competitive guy so he likes making up competitions with you. Who can eat more cherries in under a minutes? Who can find the weirdest looking plant in the store? Who can run faster to the pole (this one is plainly unfair) either way he finds random little games he likes to play with you.

• I think he's the little spoon 😌 he likes being cuddled.

• You both tease each other. DEF you're a prank couple (in the cute way not the psychotic youtuber way)!

• He's a jokester so making you laugh is his favorite pastime and his one goal.

• Bonus points if you snort out your water/drink if you do laugh. He likes seeing how embarrassed you become and it makes him want to kiss you even more!

• Very boyfriend core even if slightly immature

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ikkyfics · 11 days ago

Note

Hello! I saw you writing for vronsky and I was wondering if I could make a request. :) Vronsky is like my comfort character so I was wondering if you could do; vronsky with wife that has a hard time eating; afraid that he might not find her attractive anymore or something. Ofc he notices whether that is that her dresses are suddenly getting too big for her or not remembering the last time they had dinner together.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this feel free to decline! Also don't push yourself to write!

Sending loveee!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)

Perfect As You Are

Count Vronsky x fem!reader

Summary: "I just… I wanted to be perfect for you." He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are already perfect for me. You always have been. You always will be."

Warnings: hurt&comfort, body image issues, fluffy - a madly in love Alexei showing how perfect his wife is

N/A: hey darling, i hope what i wrote can bring you some comfort when you read it <333 aaw, I made some small changes to the request, buuut nothing that changes things much - and i would like to say that each and every one of you are wonderful, so please be kind to yourself

Masterlist

The journey had been exhausting, and the month away felt like an eternity. Alexei Vronsky, usually impeccable in his composure, could hardly maintain it as the carriage drew closer to his estate. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that he was mere steps away from seeing you again, his chest felt too small to hold the longing that had been building inside him.

Upon entering the house, he left the luggage to the servants and was greeted by the housekeeper. The woman hurried to welcome him, but Alexei raised his hand, courteous yet firm. “Dinner will be served in the bedroom tonight,” he said, his voice steady but laden with expectation. He didn’t intend to waste a single moment away from you. With that, he ascended the stairs briskly, seeking the one person who had occupied his thoughts from the moment he had departed.

When the bedroom door opened, you were there. And the entire world seemed to stop.

You turned at the sound of the door creaking, surprise flashing in your eyes before it was overtaken by something else: a mix of relief and emotion only he could evoke in you. Alexei stood before you, more striking than any memory your mind could conjure. The blue uniform you so admired looked as if it had been tailored specifically for him, every line and detail accentuating his natural elegance.

Before you could say anything, he was already by your side, crossing the room with a sense of urgency that made you forget how to breathe. His hands found your waist, and in an instant, he pulled you against his chest. The unmistakable scent you had missed so many nights enveloped your senses, and before you could even react, his lips captured yours.

The kiss was intense, a mixture of longing and need. Alexei didn’t seem inclined to hold back, every gesture of his conveying just how much he had yearned for this moment. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up your back as though he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were truly there, real and within his reach again.

“My God,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath. “You have no idea how I dreamed of this… of you.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, and his gaze met yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He, however, seemed full of them.

“I thought I remembered everything,” he continued, his voice low and smooth, like a whisper meant only for you. “But I was wrong. Nothing I imagined could compare to you like this, standing before me—so beautiful… so mine.”

His words made your face burn, and you averted your eyes for a moment, unable to withstand the weight of his gaze. Alexei noticed, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips—that same disarming smile that always left you defenseless. He knew the effect he had on you, and he seemed to savor every second of it.

But then, something shifted. Alexei’s eyes, which had been locked on yours, began to drift, taking in details he hadn’t noticed at first. He saw how the dress that once hugged your figure now seemed slightly loose. Your shoulders appeared thinner, your collarbone more pronounced than he remembered, and there was a pallor to your face that wasn’t usual.

A faint furrow appeared between his brows, so subtle you almost missed it. But when he stepped back slightly to look at you more closely, the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Alexei?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered, betraying the nervousness rising within you.

His gaze snapped back to yours, and the intensity from before gave way to poorly masked worry. He hesitated, as though searching for the right words. But before he could say anything, you rushed to shift the focus.

“You should have let me know you were coming,” you said, forcing a smile and stepping away slightly, as if trying to create some distance. “I would have prepared to greet you properly. The house is a mess, and look at me…”

You tried to laugh, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer, closing the distance again, and his hand moved to your waist, stopping any attempt to escape.

“Look at you,” he repeated, his voice low, almost a whisper, but so heavy with emotion it made your stomach turn. He cradled your face with a tenderness that contrasted with his earlier urgency, and his eyes found yours again. “I am looking. And I see the most beautiful woman who’s ever existed.”

The sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, and you felt a tightness in your chest. You wanted to believe his words, but the insecurities that had grown in his absence wouldn’t disappear so easily.

Alexei tilted his head, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he spoke. “You are everything I thought you were… and more. No absence, no time, no distance could ever change that.”

His words had barely left his lips before Alexei stepped closer again, his hands finding your waist with a firmness that spoke of a fear you might slip away. Before you could formulate a response, he lowered his head, and his lips met yours once more.

This time, the kiss was more urgent, almost desperate. Alexei seemed determined to convey everything words could not: the longing that had consumed every day of his absence, the desire that only grew with every thought of you, the insatiable need to have you as close as humanly possible.

His hand slid up to your nape, fingers threading into your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Your knees weakened under the intensity of the moment, and the only thing keeping you upright was his arm, still firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you as though the world depended on it.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and laden with emotion, barely audible amidst the kisses he seemed unwilling to break.

You tried to respond, but it was impossible. He gave you no room for words, and, truthfully, you didn’t want to speak. Every touch of his was a confession, every movement a silent declaration. When his lips left yours only to trail along your jaw and down the curve of your neck, you closed your eyes, warmth coursing through your skin in waves.

“My God, I dreamed of this,” Alexei continued, his breath hot against your skin as his lips drew an almost reverent line along your neck. “Every night I spent away from you… All I wanted was to be here, with you, like this…”

His words were a mix of love and longing, each chosen as if to carve them into your very being. But there was something more. Even as his desire was palpable, there was a vulnerability in Alexei—a sense that he was trying to make up for lost time, to reassure himself that you were still his, as entirely as he was yours.

His fingers slid along your waist, moving up to the small space between your back and your dress, a touch that sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to give in. To sink entirely into his passion, letting him chase away all the thoughts that had consumed you in recent days. But at the same time, the unease that had settled in your heart over the past months stirred like an unwelcome reminder.

“Alexei…” Your voice came out almost as a whisper, broken by the rapid rise and fall of your breath. He paused, his lips still close to your skin, before lifting his gaze to yours.

His eyes were dark, intense, but above all, they held a tenderness that always made your heart falter. He didn’t say anything, waiting, as he always did, allowing you to set the boundaries.

You gently pushed his hands away, your breath still unsteady, though you tried to mask your unease with a small smile. “You must be exhausted,” you said, your voice slightly shaky as you met his gaze. “You should bathe… and rest. Tomorrow, we’ll have more time together.”

Alexei’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his features, but he stepped back. Even as the intensity still burned in his eyes, concern began to take its place.

“I waited for you for weeks, and now you want me to rest?” he asked, his tone almost playful, yet carrying a certain weight.

You smiled, looking away. “It’s because I want you to be well. Besides, I imagine the journey was long.”

For a moment, Alexei didn’t move, as if trying to decipher something in you. But then he sighed, always willing to respect the space you asked for, even if it pained him.

“As you wish,” he said at last, though before he released your waist entirely, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, tender and full of affection. “But know this, my love—I am not a patient man by nature. And my absence has only made it worse.”

Heat rose to your cheeks again, and Alexei’s lips curved into a faint smile as he noticed, a glimmer of mischief lighting his eyes before he stepped back completely.

“I’ll bathe, as you’ve asked,” he said, already heading for the door. “But as for resting… that depends entirely on you.”

He cast one last look over his shoulder, so full of longing and tenderness that your heart quickened all over again. And then he disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone in the room, your lips still tingling from his touch and his words echoing in your mind.

The silence Alexei left behind as he exited seemed to echo through the room. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but the feeling of suffocation only seemed to grow. Hesitantly, you walked to the mirror in the corner of the room, almost fearing what you might find.

The image reflected back wasn’t comforting. Your eyes lingered on your narrow shoulders, now accentuated by the loose fabric of the dress. The outline of your collarbone seemed more pronounced, and your face sharper. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. Your gaze drifted to your waist, slimmer than it had been a few months ago, but still nowhere near the silhouettes of other women. Even the corset couldn’t fix the problem. You bit your lower lip, feeling a knot tighten in your chest.

He didn’t notice, you tried convincing yourself. Or, if he did, he said nothing because he loves you, because he’s happy to finally be home. But what would happen when that initial happiness wore off? When he started noticing the details?

The memory of Alexei talking about the ladies he encountered at social events came to mind like a restless ghost. He’d never said anything malicious, but his comments — “a charming young woman, slender like a ballerina” — lingered in your thoughts. And now, standing before the mirror, you felt as if you’d never be enough.

Still, he had come back. He loved you, didn’t he? You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to cling to the happiness you should feel for his presence, but the tightness in your chest refused to subside.

Several minutes passed before you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. Turning, you saw Alexei standing in the doorway, and the sight made your heart falter.

He was no longer in his uniform, but the simple clothing — a white shirt open at the collar, revealing part of his chest, and linen trousers — did nothing to diminish his presence. If anything, there was something so intimately seductive about the way his damp hair fell messily across his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes traced the outline of his chest, the line of his jaw, the way the muscles in his arms were evident even beneath the simplicity of his attire. He was absolutely stunning, and the heat rose to your face before you could stop it.

“Admiring me, kroshka?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and teasing, with a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the look in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“No need to explain yourself,” he continued, walking toward you slowly, each step filled with a natural confidence that always left you breathless. “I remember very well how much you like looking at me like that.”

“Alexei…” you began, trying to sound reproachful, but his name came out more as a sigh than anything else.

“Yes?” He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. One of his hands rose to your face, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw before holding your chin, tilting it slightly so you had no choice but to look at him.

His eyes were locked on yours, and the smile he wore now was different—less playful, more serious, almost possessive. “You have no idea how beautiful it is to come home and find you here,” he murmured, his fingers still holding your face with tenderness.

Before he could say more, the sound of knocking at the door interrupted the moment. You instinctively stepped back, your heart racing for an entirely different reason. Alexei frowned slightly but turned toward the door with a casual ease.

“Come in,” he called, his voice returning to its usual calm, authoritative tone.

The door opened to reveal a maid carrying a tray. She seemed slightly nervous upon seeing Alexei there, but he only offered her a faint smile, a gesture that seemed to ease any tension.

“Leave it here, please,” he said, motioning to the small table near the fireplace.

The maid obeyed quickly, setting the tray down before offering a slight bow and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Alexei turned back to you, his smile now softer. “I asked for dinner to be served here,” he explained, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and mischief. “I want to savor every moment with you, uninterrupted.”

You tried to smile, but the weight in your chest didn’t completely lift. Still, when he extended his hand to you, there was something so earnest in his gaze that you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

You sat at the small table with Alexei, the aroma of dinner spreading through the room. He was seated directly across from you, so close that his presence was almost palpable, yet his gaze was even more intense. Alexei didn’t hide it; he was watching you, examining every detail with a focus that was both endearing and unsettling.

“Try this,” he suggested, carefully placing a piece of the nearest dish on your plate. “It reminds me of something you liked when we were in Moscow. I had it specially prepared for you.”

You smiled, or at least you tried to. The happiness of having him back and the guilt of not fully meeting his expectations waged a silent battle within you. You picked up your fork with slightly trembling fingers, brought a small bite to your lips, but as you chewed, something felt off. It wasn’t the taste—it was the sensation, as though the simple act of eating was something your body refused to cooperate with.

Alexei noticed. He always noticed.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, his tone casual, though a flicker of suspicion underlined his words.

“No, it’s wonderful,” you replied quickly, trying to sound convincing. “I just… ate earlier, I suppose I’m not that hungry.”

He nodded slowly, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I see.”

Dinner continued—or rather, he ate while you barely touched your plate. Your posture remained stiff, shoulders tense, your movements restricted by the corset pressing tightly against your ribs, making every breath feel deliberate. You tried to focus on Alexei, on the small stories he shared about his trip, but even that felt heavy.

“Are you all right?” he asked suddenly, breaking the brief silence that had settled between you.

“I’m fine,” you answered too quickly, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just tired. You know how hectic these past weeks have been.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you knew Alexei wasn’t convinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze pinning you in place as if trying to unravel you.

“You’ve barely touched your food,” he said softly but firmly. “And there’s… something different about you.”

You averted your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. “Alexei, please don’t start. You just got back, and I want to enjoy this moment, not turn it into something uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” His brows furrowed, irritation flickering in his expression, though concern softened his voice. “What’s uncomfortable for me, kroshka, is seeing you like this and not knowing why.”

“Like what?” you shot back, trying to sound defiant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed any semblance of strength.

“Thinner. More… distant.” He gestured toward you with a subtle motion, his strong fingers seeming to hesitate. “You’re trembling. You can’t even eat. What happened while I was away?”

“I told you, I’m just tired,” you insisted, trying once more to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t allow it. Alexei stood, moving around the table until he was kneeling beside you, his commanding presence somehow feeling tender in that vulnerable position.

He took your hand, his fingers warm as they enclosed yours, firm yet gentle. “Please, tell me the truth. Don’t hide this from me.”

Your chest tightened at the intensity in his eyes, the rare vulnerability Alexei almost never allowed to show. He was always the strong, confident man, but here, kneeling before you, there was something almost desperate in his posture.

“Alexei…” you began, your voice wavering. “It’s just… I just wanted…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, patient yet urging.

“I wanted to be enough,” you finally confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening. Alexei remained still, but you could see the way his jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher.

“Enough?” he echoed, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. “You think you’re not enough for me?”

You didn’t respond immediately, unable to meet his gaze. But Alexei wouldn’t allow the distance. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a long, warm kiss to your trembling fingers.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly, though there was undeniable intensity in his tone. When you finally obeyed, his eyes burned with something that looked like anger—but not at you.

“You are everything to me,” he declared, his voice rough with emotion. “Everything. And it hurts me to think you spent even one moment believing you weren’t enough.”

His words, the passion in his eyes, hit you like a blow straight to the chest. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, shaking your head slightly. “You don’t understand… all those women you meet, so… so…”

“So irrelevant,” he interrupted, his voice growing firm again. “So insignificant compared to you. I could be surrounded by a thousand of them, and none would come close to you.”

He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his words a warm caress against your skin. “If something about you has changed, it’s not because I wished it. Not because I wanted it.”

Alexei remained kneeling in front of you, as though the ground was the only place where he could bear the weight of what he was hearing. His eyes, always so full of an almost arrogant confidence, now held something that bordered on desperation.

"You don't understand," you murmured, your voice low and hesitant. "I just… I didn’t want you to look at me and see someone lesser. There are so many women out there, so… perfect. And I—"

"Stop that," he interrupted, his voice firmer now, though no less gentle. He leaned forward, taking your hands in his, his grip steady and grounding. "I’ve told you before, kroshka. You are everything. There is no one who can compare to you. Not in beauty, not in strength, not in anything."

You tried to look away, but Alexei wouldn’t allow it. One of his hands rose to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness so profound it felt as though it could break down every wall you'd built.

"Please, tell me you know this," he implored, his voice trembling slightly. "Tell me that, deep down, you know how precious you are to me."

The tears you’d been holding back began to surface, burning at your eyes, but you shook your head stubbornly. "I wanted to be better," you whispered, the words bitter as they left your lips. "I wanted to be everything you deserve."

Alexei took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as though steadying himself against a torrent of emotions. When he opened them again, they burned with unshakable resolve.

"You don’t need to be anything but who you are," he said, his voice firmer now, though still laced with tenderness. He leaned closer, his hands cradling your face as his gaze bore into yours. "And if anyone dared make you feel otherwise, tell me, because I—"

Before he could finish, a sob escaped your throat. You tried to stifle it, but it was too late. The tears began to fall, and the weight of the pain you’d been hiding finally broke free.

"Alexei, I’m so sorry," you cried, your shoulders shaking as the words spilled out between your sobs. "I just… I didn’t know how—"

He didn’t wait for you to finish. Alexei pulled you into his arms, enveloping you with such care and tenderness it was almost overwhelming. Your face pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you as his hand moved gently along your back.

"Shhh, moya lyubov’, it’s okay," he whispered against your hair. "It’s okay now. I’m here."

But as he held you, the trembling in your body and the uneven rhythm of your breathing became impossible to ignore. It was as though each inhale was a struggle, the corset squeezing the air from your lungs and turning every movement into an act of endurance.

"You can barely breathe," he said suddenly, the worry flooding his voice. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands steady but his eyes brimming with concern as they scanned your face and frame.

"Alexei, what are you—" you began, but he was already undoing the ties of your corset, his fingers moving with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before.

"Stay still," he instructed, his voice low but commanding. "I need to get this off now."

"But—"

"No buts," he cut in, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and worry.

The bindings began to loosen, and as the pressure around your torso released, relief flooded through your body, accompanied by a sense of raw vulnerability. When Alexei finally removed the corset completely, he sat back slightly, his gaze falling on what the fabric had hidden.

His eyes widened, shock and pain darkening his features. The deep red marks left by the constriction seemed to haunt him, his normally steady hands trembling slightly as they ghosted over the impressions on your skin, careful not to hurt you further.

"My God," he murmured, almost to himself. "What have you done to yourself?"

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The lump in your throat was too large, the shame too overwhelming.

"Why?" Alexei asked, his voice breaking as his eyes found yours again. The anguish in his tone was almost unbearable. "Why, kroshka? What made you think you needed to do this?"

The tears returned, but this time, you didn’t hold them back. Alexei leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers traced the marks softly, as though trying to erase them with his touch.

"I failed you," he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "Somehow, I failed you, and you suffered for it."

"No, Alexei, it’s not your fault," you managed, your voice trembling. "I just… I wanted to be perfect for you."

He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are already perfect for me. You always have been. You always will be."

The weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, filled the space between you, every touch and every whispered assurance brimming with raw emotion. Alexei pulled you back into his embrace, holding you as though he could shield you from any pain, even if he couldn’t undo what had already been done.

"I will never let you feel this way again," he vowed, his voice steady despite the emotion. "Never again, moya lyubov’. I swear it."

Alexei held you with a tenderness that seemed meant to mend all the broken pieces inside you. He pulled you close again, as if wanting to erase any distance—physical or emotional—between you. The warmth of his body was a silent reminder that you weren’t alone, that you had never been, even in the moments when your heart insisted otherwise.

His fingers continued tracing invisible lines across your skin, now free from the suffocating grip of the corset. Each touch was delicate, almost reverent, as if he wanted to ensure you understood just how precious you were to him.

“You have no idea how much it hurts me to know you felt this way,” Alexei said, his voice low but filled with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes shining softly in the room’s light. “And worse, to know you did this to yourself because of me.”

“Alexei…” you tried to protest, but he shook his head, a sad smile curving his lips.

“Let me finish,” he gently requested. “Because I need you to understand.”

His eyes roamed your face, as though he were committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell slightly over his forehead made him seem almost unreal, like he had stepped out of a painting. The intensity in his blue eyes was undeniable, as if every word he spoke came from a deep, unwavering place inside him.

“I will never stop wanting you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with sincerity. “No matter how you see yourself, no matter what you think needs changing. To me, you are perfect exactly as you are.”

Your face warmed under the weight of his gaze, and you looked away, trying to suppress the flush rising to your cheeks. But Alexei chuckled softly, a warm sound that wrapped around you like a blanket.

“Don’t look away from me now, kroshka,” he teased, tilting his head to capture your gaze again. “I want to see those flushed cheeks. They’re one of my favorite things about you.”

“You talk too much,” you murmured, your voice tinged with a rare shyness.

“And you deserve every word,” he replied without hesitation, a smile spreading across his face in a way that stole the breath from your lungs.

His fingers rose to gently caress your cheek again, his eyes studying every nuance of your expression. “I could stay here for hours, just looking at you. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me? How every little detail makes me want to be closer?”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break free. There was something about the way he spoke—so direct, so earnest—that made it impossible not to believe him.

“Alexei,” you began, but he tilted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, cutting off your protest.

“You’re the only thing that matters to me,” he murmured against your skin, his lips warm and sending a shiver down your spine. “Nothing in the world could make me want someone else. Not your appearance, not your attitude, nothing. I love you, kroshka, exactly as you are. And if you ever doubt that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving otherwise.”

His words washed over you like a tide, enveloping you completely. You couldn’t help it; tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t born of pain or sadness. They were tears of relief, of joy, of something deeper than you could name.

He smiled as he noticed, leaning in to press another kiss, this time to the corners of your eyes, as if capturing each tear before it could fall.

“See?” he murmured, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Even when you cry, you’re beautiful.”

You let out a shaky laugh, lightly pushing his shoulder in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, but Alexei only laughed again, a warm sound that seemed to light up the entire room.

“I love when you try to hide it,” he teased, his eyes glinting with what could only be described as pure adoration. “But you don’t have to. Not with me.”

The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, was almost unbearable in its intensity. But at the same time, it was comforting. It felt, for the first time, like you could let go of all your insecurities and simply be.

When he pulled you back into his arms, you found yourself relaxing against him, your heart slowing to a calmer rhythm. The warmth of his body, the safety of his embrace, the softness of his words… everything felt right, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Promise me you’ll never hide from me again,” Alexei softly requested, his lips close to your ear. “Promise that next time something weighs on you, you’ll let me carry it with you.”

“I promise,” you replied, your voice quiet but genuine.

And there, in his arms, as the night wrapped around you in its tranquil embrace, you felt like you could finally believe it.

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