#vronsky x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

etherealily · 11 months ago

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🇹🇭🇪 🇱🇮🇳🇪 // 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘪 𝘷𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘺

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader ➵➵➵➵ ( [consider reading my other vronsky fics] )

Warnings : Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

'Cross that line for me, sweetheart?'

Desc. : You are not a temptress, but he is tempted.

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It was curious, to say the least, how land was divided. The conch next to you was half your property and half the Vronsky estate's property. It had remained that way for ages.

The waves lapped up the sand, like a heart reaching desperately for its other half as you sat watching the entire ordeal.

The Line - one drawn up every morning and marked by tiny flags as placeholders - had always pissed you off. Intrigued you. What would happen if you were to... just a finger? The hem of your dress. Would you immediately be shot at by concealed snipers? Perhaps you'd have to be tried in court.

You had never really noticed much about this Vronsky character before. Another handsome, manipulative bastard. Nothing much.

In turn, he'd also never noticed you. A face. One of many. Beautiful, of course, he was not blind, but never seen as worthy of his efforts. You were not rebellious. You were not adorably innocent. He could not entice you. He could not corrupt you.

In theory, your paths were never to cross. Different lives, same circles.

The key word : theory.

Because there are moments in life when you know that nothing will ever be the same again, when you know that your proverbial pathway is forever skewed and rerouted. These may appear to you embossed in calamities such as loss and grief, or these may be whispered in your ear by silent smiles, lovestruck looks across a ballroom, or the simple offer of champagne.

Or, in the case of you and Alexei Vronsky, all of the above.

And this was one of those torturous, life-altering moments.

"-And that's when I said, it was just a bloody goat !"

Booming, drunken laughter ensued from your left - the other side of the Line. Fuck. Keep drawing, shut up, keep drawing, shut up.

Your pencil made unintelligible sounds as it scratched out a somewhat passable depiction of the moonlit waves. The screams and guffaws grew louder, but the issue was that if you moved, he'd assume you did it because you were on his side. You were not, but it would look highly suspicious if you fled.

No. They'd quietened down. Meaning either they left - highly unlikely - or, they'd noticed you.

"Oi!"

Don't respond, don't respond.

"You! Pretty girl!"

Drunk men are terrifying. How could such kind words be said in a way that made your skin crawl?

"Mate, maybe she's a mute. Or deaf. Or both."

"I know for a fact she's not. She's got quite a mouth on her, as I can remember from last year- HEY! LADY WITH THE SKETCHBOOK!"

And that was Alexei Vronsky. His story with the goat had ended, apparently. Ugh.

You turned. "Uh, hello."

"ARE YOU A MUTE?" his companion yelled.

"Are you daft? She just answered! How could she be mute?"

Drunk men are also idiotic.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER HERE, WE'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DRAW?"

Bellowing laughter followed.

For fuck's sake.

"I'm alright, THANKS!"

"OI, C'MON! WE DON'T BITE!"

From what you'd heard, he does.

"IS IT 'CAUSE OF THAT LINE?"

"Good night, Count Vronsky.", you called back, as you gathered up your things and stood, dusting the sand off your dress.

"HOLD ON! WAIT!"

"Let'r go, mate, c'mon, we've got a party to get back to."

"I WAS JUST BEING NEIGHBOURLY, YOU BITCH!"

FUCKING HELL.

"What did you just call me?!", you yelled, turning. He looked back at you in a swaying, inebriated haze, trying to focus those glaciers he called eyes on yours in the darkness.

"A witch. You've cast a spell on me, bewitched me, so to speak. You're magic."

Ugh. "Whatever."

"Just come over here, or I'll have to come there, and you wouldn't like that.", he slurred, his friends chortling and egging him on.

Buggering Christ.

"You can't. See?", you replied defiantly, pointing deliberately at the faint white outline of the line they renewed every morning with chalk powder. "That would be trespassing."

"I'm Alexei Vronsky."

What was that supposed to mean?

"So? It's still trespassing. My family's had it in for you for a long time - we'll take you to court."

"Then you come here.", he shrugged, taking an unstable stumble closer. "Cross that line for me, sweetheart? Yeah?"

"You're a creep. And you're drunk."

"You're a beauty. And you're technically trespassing, so I need to punish you."

"HOW am I-"

"Your pencil." Fuck. How is it he's sober enough to notice that, but not sober enough to know that his buddy said 'the coat storage' not 'the goat story'?

"It blew in the wind."

"Yes. To my estate."

"You can keep it."

"Are you sure? Isn't this your, uh, fabulous pencil from Paris you were talking of?"

"No." Yes.

"No?", he frowned, picking it up. NO! Not in his grimy, disgustingly delicate fingers. "Seems pretty French to me."

"Are you actually inebriated or do you simply enjoy pretending to be so that you can get away with things?"

He stopped swaying, pointing the pencil in your direction as he placed the other hand behind his back. "You're sharp."

"So you're sober?"

Drunk Vronsky could have been molded. Sober Vronsky was a cunt.

"More or less. My friends feel left out because they are unable to hold their liquor as well as I can, so I act for them.", he explained, with a small look behind him, at his comrades trying to jump over the waves as they came.

"You should be in theatre, then."

"Adding performer to my resume is just a smidge too over-accomplished.", he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.

Ugh.

"So you're going to hold on to my pencil, then, I'm guessing."

"What? No, I know how much this means to you."

Trap. You'd bet your entire estate it was a trap.

"I will give it back.", he continued as he paced, his hand still placed behind his back as though he were planning war strategies. "On one condition."

See? Trap.

"Dinner. With me. Tomorrow."

Did he think this was a smart way to secure an evening with a woman?

"I won't be here tomorrow." Bold-faced lie, and he could tell.

"Then tonight. Right now." You couldn't think of anything you were doing.

"And I'll get my pencil back."

"Yes."

"That can't be it. There's a catch."

"You are... remarkable. Yes. There is.", he whispered, softly, as though impressed that you caught on. "Champagne. I wish to see you drunk. Drunk, in denial and... ruined."

Lot of darkness for someone who'd just been talking about a goat.

"In denial?"

"Nothing. Just... join me for dinner and drink a little, and I promise you shall have your pencil back."

"I do not drink."

"Then I do not return fancy French pencils."

"I can always purchase another."

"You do not have sentimentality, then?"

"No." Yes.

"I see. Then you may be on your way."

"I don't have to go anywhere. I have every right to be here! This is still my side of The Line."

"Suit yourself, darling."

The silence that followed was torturous and unbearable. "I do not like steak."

"Then you shall have no steak."

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His eyes focused on you from across the table, his spoon paused midway above his plate. Eyes like the ocean in a storm. Terrifying but alluring.

"Enjoying your not-steak?"

You hid a smile. "Yes, I am."

He nodded, bringing his spoon up to his lips as he watched you do the same.

"You've left your friends out there?"

"They know not to cross The Line. They will be alright."

"Why is it you wanted to have dinner with me? To trap me into trespassing?"

"I've wanted to speak with you since I first saw you." Lie.

"And I you." Lie.

"What was it you wished to say?"

"Simply a greeting. You?"

"The same."

He set down his spoon, scrunching up his napkin as he stood up and walked the short distance across the table to you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. "You promised you'd drink."

"I did?"

"You did.", he whispers, accepting the newly-uncorked bottle the servant handed him, and pouring it into the glass next to your plate, smoothly. "And you're a good girl who keeps promises, yes?"

You'd heard he loved using such degrading language, but this was the first time you'd seen it firsthand.

"What gave you that idea?"

"I just figured you were of proper breeding and were raised right."

Good answer.

"Well, the words 'I promise' never left my mouth."

"Well-bred women do not look for loopholes. And they most certainly do not argue."

Lord knows where he'd worked up the audacity to brush some hair off your shoulder, but perhaps he was born with it imbibed in his blood.

He narrowed his eyes at your unchanging expression. "Drink."

"I am not done with my food."

He breathes out loudly, taking your plate and thrusting it into the hands of the nearest servant. "Yes, you are."

"I still have dessert."

"No, you don't. Drink."

"This is not champagne. You said champagne."

"And you said you'd drink. We both have uttered falsities. Drink."

"I fear you may be trying to-"

"Poison you? I am not. I would not like to see you die."

Was that supposed to be some form of assurance? Romantic? Caring? That did not have the intended effect.

"Drink, lovely."

It irked you how invested he was to see you drunk.

You wrapped your fingers around the glass, bringing it to your lips. Tilting it upwards, you let the liquor cascade down your throat, and echoes of your sputtering filled the room - it burned.

He laughed heartily, shaking his head as he stroked your shoulder from behind you. "Do you know what that was?"

"No. But I do know I will not take another sip."

"It was vodka, my dear, and in a few moments, you will want more. Trust me."

"I'm not taking another sip of that ghastly liquid!"

"Not even for me? Not even if I begged?"

"You think your begging has any effect on me?"

"Doesn't it? I'm known to be quite persuasive, and- besides, aren't you supposed to be the empathetic one in the family?"

"And where did you hear that?"

"Just about everywhere, really.", he huffed, resting his elbow on the table as he knelt down by your side. "'The youngest is the nicest one. She cares the most. Empathetic.' Surely you are not telling me those are lies?"

"Not lies, but exaggerations, perhaps."

"I am quite literally on my knees, and you should realize how rare that is. Drink more or I will have to force you."

You frowned at him.

"I will do it. Force you. Don't think that because I have let you in my house so courteously that I will continue to be a gentleman with you."

"How could you be? You're nothing but a cad.", you scoffed, as you took another stingingly painful gulp.

He watched the glass, your tongue, your throat, almost mesmerized as he replied. "A cad?", he questioned softly, amused but still fascinated by your every movement.

"A cad.", you nodded, trying not to show how much you were gasping for breath. It hurt, satisfyingly.

"That's a first. No one has ever said 'oh, Alexei Vronsky, that cad'.", he murmured against his palm as he observed you meticulously.

"Then they have met a different person."

"You say this out of personal experience, do you?"

"I've met him. The Alexei Vronsky. He only thinks of one thing."

A lilt of his lips. "And that is?"

"Himself."

He concealed a grin.

"Or perhaps...", he mused, fingertips on the back of your neck as though he were playing your skin as one would a piano. "He is one who shows different versions of himself to different people."

"So he is deceitful."

"I'd say careful."

"Would you, now?"

"I think we put up far too many false pretences anyway. No point in fighting it - it is necessary, to be part of society."

"And what false pretences am I putting up, in your expert opinion?"

He smiled, one too pure to match the description you had so harshly delivered a moment before, but you knew more than most that it was a ruse. "Drink more."

"You're an incredibly demanding man, aren't you? Dine with me. Drink more. Not a single please, nor thank you.", you retorted, as though that could take away from the fact that you obeyed.

"When you are incredibly in demand, you learn to be incredibly demanding."

If ever a smoother talker existed, you'd wager he'd simply be Alexei Vronsky in disguise.

"So tell me, then. Are you a gentleman, a cad, or an opportunist, Count Vronsky?"

You had to steer the conversation back to him, because whatever this vilely beguiling liquor was, it was shooting through your veins at a rate too fast to risk talking about yourself, lest any family secrets spilled out.

"I am whatever you want me to be. And you? Are the rumours true? Are you a virgin, a temptress, or a genius?"

"I am whatever I want to be. For tonight."

"Come morning?", he murmured against your neck as he slipped a finger under a loose strand of hair, and twirled it with such dedication you would think that were his only purpose in life.

"A memory."

"Well, we can't have that.", he pouted, as he stood up, gently taking the glass away from you and finishing the last of it. "What does it take for a memory to stay in the present?"

"Vronsky-"

"A dance, perhaps, as they say you enjoy?"

If you weren't unsure of the functionality of your motor skills in your drunken haze, you'd have punched him right then and there.

"The rumours aren't true, you know?"

"What rumours?", he asked, feigning obliviousness.

He'd just spoken of them, but you were quite sure if you reminded him, he'd attribute it to the vodka. Tell you you were 'surely imagining things, dear one'.

"The ones that led you to come and have a go at me."

"Those? Oh, I didn't believe them for a second.", he grinned, his eyes examining the filthiest, most remote parts of your soul - ones that even you had never been privy to.

A moment washed over the both of you, tauntingly. You looked for any secrets in his eyes, and he looked for any in yours, albeit, more calmly than you.

"Come.", he mumbled, finally, offering his hand for you to get up out of his disgustingly well-crafted chair. "Let's get you back on your side of The Line."

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"There. Oh, and here. I am of proper manners.", he added after you'd leapt over The Line, handing your pencil back over to you.

It felt oddly anticlimactic after the events of the evening.

His icy blue eyes - striking, so striking that they pierced you - fell onto your lips for just a moment before landing on the pencil in your hand. "You don't want it back."

"What? Of course I do."

He had you. He was onto you.

"Let me rephrase. You don't need it back."

"Sentimentality. Of course I do."

"You really don't want it to stay in my possession, instead?"

"No."

"Liar.", he smirked, his lips curving deliciously, and you just about lost it. "You know I'll take very good care of it, no? Like I took care of you, tonight. No complaints, yes?"

"Besides the aggressive persuasion to drink a fiery liquid that most probably burnt my throat off, no."

"You exaggerate. Tell me tonight was just another of your dull nights. Tell me I haven't been a source of reprieve from your tedious, mundane days of fakeness and gossip."

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with a reply, although you already knew that any response- or lack thereof - would be all too telling.

"You cannot, can you?"

There was nothing you hated more than when men were right.

Especially men who were as captivating as Vronsky. It was unnecessary and dangerous.

He beamed, clearly so fucking proud of himself, as he looked out at the waves. "It is a lovely dress you are wearing."

No, it wasn't. It was the most commonplace of dresses one could wear. But he'd say it anyway. Because that was his play.

"Thank you."

"It is disgusting, though."

"In what way? A disgusting display of my wealth, or disgustingly lovely?"

He knelt down next to you from the other side, on the sand. "It is disgusting that such beauty and purity like yours can exist and people continue to slander its name."

Had you been a lesser woman, you'd have fallen for it.

It seemed, however, that he knew you wouldn't. It was confusing, to say the least, whether he was being genuine or being genuinely fake.

"It is how I live."

If you'd read him right, he should say something along the lines of...

"It shouldn't be."

There.

"However... the dress in itself is not disgusting?"

"No, it is spectacular- although, I must say, the woman wearing it is far more ravishing."

Games get boring when they are predictable.

"So. What is it you normally do after parties, since you cannot get drunk? Unless blackmailing women to dine with you and drink your vodka is your usual pastime."

He snickered, although a slight maliciousness infiltrated his gaze for a moment. "It isn't so much a pastime as... an unfortunately common occurence. Perhaps that's why you've got an opinion of me as a - how'd you put it?"

"A cad."

"Ah, yes, a cad. I wonder if your opinion has changed."

That was not hope in his eyes, no. That was a challenge. 'Go ahead, say no. If you dare.', his look said.

"I wonder that, too. Perhaps it will if you keep your promise."

"Promise?", he repeated, raising a brow. He knew. He knew all too well what you were saying.

"False pretences.", you reminded, watching him as he watched the waves distort the light of the moon. "You said you would tell me what false pretences you think I put up."

He was far too close. The incredibly fragile, entirely imaginary Line wouldn't be able to stop him from reaching over and touching your shoulder once more.

"I think... do you want to know what I think?"

"I might."

"I think that you're lying when you brush off the rumours."

"You think I am a slut? A temptress?" Now, suddenly, the monotonous nature of everyday seemed far more interesting than the thousandth iteration of the same conversation.

"No, I think you brushing them off is the lie. They affect you far too much." Alright. That was... progress.

"Do they, now?"

"Very much. And there is one more, as well, although I doubt you will like to hear it. You crave to prove them right."

Congratulations, Alexei Vronsky, you've caught my attention.

"That is an extremely, extremely bold suggestion."

"Yet you are not denying it."

"I do not wish to have my virtue questioned, Vronsky, and us having dinner does not change that."

"But it pokes at it, does it not? A slight scratch, an itch, asking if that is what you really want. It blurred the lines, did it not?"

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"You're an incredibly delusional man, Count Vronsky."

"A delusional cad."

"Precisely."

You didn't miss the amusement in his tone, the laughter, the way he knew how perfectly right he was.

"Well, this delusional cad did not lie, earlier. You truly have bewitched me, my dear, and I do not think I shall ever turn you down."

He stood up, dusting the sand off his gloves and pants. You stood up too, not out of respect, but out of the desire to relish his face once more.

"Turn me down?"

"When you inevitably ask for me when your marriage is dry, lifeless and torturous."

Good lord. How long had he been- how far ahead was he thinking?

"I will be right here. On this side."

"Why are you so adamant that my marriage will be-"

"Because I'm the one you need. You've broken quite literally every rule tonight. Crossed the line, fraternized with the enemy, drank unfamiliar alcohol that could so easily have been poisoned or used against you."

"How does that make you the one I-"

"I'm taking you out of your comfort zone. Freeing you. What more would one want from a lover?"

So casual with that word. Lover. As though that was all you two had been, since the beginning.

"Have I mentioned that you're-"

"Delusional? Yes, you have. But you have also yet to mean it."

Who the hell allowed this man to be so confident?

His thumb rubbed against your cheek in pure tenderness that you are well-prepared for - you've learnt over the years he's unpredictable, and since his mercurial nature was the only predictable thing about him, it was easy for you to guess his next move.

Or at least, figure out that it would be the exact opposite of the tone of his words.

"I can help you, you see?", he said, words so faint they were almost whisked away in the sea breeze. "Honest."

"Was that the point of tonight?"

"No, the point of tonight was to get you so utterly inebriated that you would tell me your family's secrets, and hence, your own."

That was the only thing that had come out of his mouth all night that you could guarantee was the truth.

"And since that did not happen, you are doing this?"

"No, I couldn't let that happen. Unwrapping you, figuring you out, it is far too intriguing a task to complete with a glass of vodka and enticing words. I want to spend years, decades, the rest of my life, performing this task, revealing you slowly and addictively, until I have lost myself or driven myself crazy trying to reach the core of your soul."

The silence kissed you two over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. "You are terrifyingly good at this."

He almost looked like he was about to say 'at what', but it seemed his mood had turned too serious to coax a half-hearted insult out of you.

"And you are terrifying. You are like the eye of a storm, intricately, almost... sinisterly drawing me closer."

"I'm not sure what you want me to-"

His lips devoured your words, and you could not help but think that this night had progressed far too rapidly to your liking. He was a stranger, a random man who you shared nothing but a flimsy little line with, but here you were, letting him kiss you, letting him ruin you, letting him convince you with his words that this was a good idea.

"Come on, darling.", he murmured against your lips, his eyes still half-lidded in a triumphant haze. "Cross the line. I promise, I'll take care of you."

You surrendered, and all you could do was hope that his beauty was simply angelic in nature, and was not designed for the sole purpose of ruining you and every iota of self-respect you had.

Hard to tell, but perhaps he had meant it that way.

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andy-15-07 · 2 months ago

Text

The Making of a Love Story

pairing: Aaron Taylor Johnson x female!reader

word count:2269 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

The grand ballroom of the Mosfilm Studios shimmered under the warm glow of countless chandeliers. Crews bustled about, making last-minute adjustments to the opulent set, while extras, dressed in their 19th-century finery, chatted excitedly. You, in your exquisitely crafted gown, a replica of Anna Karenina’s iconic attire, stood nervously by the edge of the dance floor, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Across the room, you could see him. Aaron Taylor-Johnson, transformed into the dashing Count Alexei Vronsky, his tailored uniform accentuating his already impressive physique. He was laughing with a member of the crew, his easy smile radiating charm, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach.

This was it. The scene that had been haunting your dreams for weeks – the grand ball, the moment Anna and Vronsky’s eyes lock, igniting a passion that would defy societal norms and ultimately lead to tragedy. You had studied the script, read and reread Tolstoy's masterpiece, trying to capture the essence of Anna, her inner turmoil, her yearning for a love that was forbidden. And now, here you were, about to bring her to life, alongside the very man who was making your own heart race.

"Ready, Y/N?" the director, Joe Wright, asked, his voice cutting through your reverie.

You managed a shaky nod. "Almost," you replied, smoothing down the folds of your dress.

"Remember," Joe said, his eyes twinkling, "this is the moment. The spark. Let the chemistry between you and Aaron do the work."

Chemistry. That was the tricky part. You had met Aaron briefly during the initial read-through, and you had instantly felt a connection, an undeniable spark. But this was different. This was Anna and Vronsky, their passion amplified by the grandeur of the setting, the music, the unspoken desires that simmered beneath the surface.

The music swelled, the waltz beginning its graceful sway. Aaron, as Vronsky, moved with an effortless elegance, his gaze sweeping across the room until it landed on you. His eyes, a striking blue, held a warmth that made your breath catch in your throat. He extended a hand, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"May I have this dance, Madame Karenina?" he asked, his voice low and charming.

You placed your hand in his, the touch sending a shiver up your spine. As he led you onto the dance floor, you felt as if the world around you faded away. It was just you and him, Anna and Vronsky, caught in the intoxicating rhythm of the waltz.

"You look beautiful," Aaron murmured, his voice close to your ear.

"Thank you," you replied, your cheeks flushing. "You look… dashing."

He chuckled. "Just trying to do justice to the Count."

As they danced, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the initial nervousness melting away. They talked about the film, about their characters, about their shared passion for storytelling. But beneath the surface, there was something more, an unspoken connection that crackled with energy.

"This is quite a scene, isn't it?" Aaron said, his eyes meeting yours. "The beginning of the end, in a way."

"Yes," you agreed, a hint of sadness creeping into your voice. "It's heartbreaking, but also… beautiful."

"Like love itself," he added, his gaze lingering on yours.

The music reached a crescendo, and for a moment, they were lost in the dance, in the moment, in the characters they were portraying. They were Anna and Vronsky, their hearts beating in unison, their souls entwined.

The scene ended, the music fading, and the director yelled, "Cut!" The spell was broken, and they were Y/N and Aaron again, but the lingering connection remained, a silent acknowledgment of the magic they had created.

Days turned into weeks, and the filming progressed. You and Aaron spent countless hours together, both on and off set, delving deeper into the complexities of their characters, exploring the nuances of their relationship. You discovered a shared love for old films, a passion for literature, and a quirky sense of humor that had you both in stitches. The line between Anna and Vronsky, between Y/N and Aaron, began to blur.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, you and Aaron found yourselves alone in the costume department. The room was filled with the remnants of the day's shoot – gowns, uniforms, and various props scattered haphazardly. Aaron was leaning against a rack of costumes, looking thoughtful.

"Tough scene today," you said, breaking the silence.

He nodded. "Yeah. It's hard to imagine the pain Anna was going through."

"And Vronsky," you added. "He was torn between his passion for Anna and his societal obligations."

"It's a timeless story, isn't it?" Aaron said. "The struggle between love and duty."

You walked over to a mirror, admiring a particularly beautiful gown. "It makes you think about your own life, your own choices," you mused.

Aaron joined you, his reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror. "It does," he said softly.

He reached out and gently touched your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and sincere, "I…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the door to the costume department swung open, and a member of the crew walked in, interrupting the moment. The spell was broken once again.

The filming of the ball scene lingered in your minds. One evening, after the day's shoot, you and Aaron found yourselves drawn back to the set, the grand ballroom now empty and silent. The costumes for Anna and Vronsky lay neatly on hangers, as if waiting for their owners to return.

"Do you remember that dance?" Aaron asked, his voice echoing in the stillness.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "How could I forget?"

"I was thinking," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "we could have one more dance. Just us."

You laughed, but the idea was strangely appealing. "Here? Now?"

"Why not?" he said, grabbing his Vronsky coat. "It's not every day you get to dance in a ballroom like this."

You couldn't resist. You slipped into your Anna gown, the familiar fabric feeling like a second skin. Aaron helped you with the fastenings, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

The music wasn't playing, but you could both hear it in your heads, the lilting melody of the waltz. Aaron took your hand, and you stepped onto the dance floor, the polished wood gleaming under the moonlight streaming through the windows.

He twirled you around, his movements as graceful and elegant as Vronsky himself. You felt as if you were floating, lost in the magic of the moment. He pulled you close, and you could feel his breath on your cheek.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion, "I…"

This time, there was no interruption. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a culmination of the weeks they had spent together, the unspoken feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface.

The kiss broke, and they stood there, gazing into each other's eyes, the silence filled with unspoken words.

"I think," Aaron said, a slow smile spreading across his face, "that Count Vronsky has fallen for Anna Karenina."

You laughed, your heart overflowing with happiness. "And I think," you replied, "that Y/N has fallen for Aaron Taylor-Johnson."

The rest of the filming passed in a blur of emotions, the intensity of Anna and Vronsky's story mirroring the growing feelings between you and Aaron. The final scene, the tragic climax of the story, was particularly difficult to film, the raw emotion leaving you both drained.

When the filming finally wrapped, there was a bittersweet feeling in the air. You were both sad to say goodbye to Anna and Vronsky, but also excited to see the finished product, to share their story with the world.

And as for you and Aaron, your story was just beginning. The spark that had ignited on the set of Anna Karenina had blossomed into a full-fledged romance, a love story that was as passionate and timeless as the one they had portrayed on screen. The grand ballroom of Mosfilm Studios had witnessed not only the birth of Anna and Vronsky's tragic love but also the beginning of your own, a love story that was destined for a much happier ending.

The wrap party was a whirlwind of celebration. The cast and crew, exhausted but exhilarated, gathered at a trendy Moscow restaurant, the air buzzing with excitement. You and Aaron stayed close, a comfortable silence settling between you. The stolen moments, the whispered conversations, the lingering touches – all spoke volumes about the connection you shared. He kept a protective arm around you, a silent claim amidst the throng of well-wishers.

"To Anna Karenina!" Joe Wright announced, raising his glass. The room erupted in cheers, glasses clinking.

Later, as the party began to wind down, you found yourselves in a quieter corner. Aaron leaned back against the wall, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"It's strange, isn't it?" he said, his voice low. "We've lived with these characters for months, and now… they're gone."

"It's like saying goodbye to a part of yourself," you agreed.

He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "But we have our own story to continue," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of press junkets and promotional events. You and Aaron were inseparable, fielding questions about the film, about your characters, and, inevitably, about your relationship. You confirmed what everyone already suspected, your smiles and easy camaraderie speaking louder than any official statement. The media ate it up – the real-life romance mirroring the on-screen passion.

One crisp autumn evening, you and Aaron escaped the city, seeking refuge in a small countryside cottage. The leaves were ablaze with color, painting the landscape in hues of red, gold, and orange. The tranquility was a welcome respite from the constant buzz of city life.

"This is perfect," you sighed, snuggling closer to Aaron as you sat by the crackling fireplace.

"Just what we needed," he agreed, kissing the top of your head.

He pulled out a small, worn book from his bag. "I brought something to read," he said. "Something that isn't Tolstoy."

It was a collection of poetry by Emily Dickinson. He began to read aloud, his voice soft and soothing, filling the cozy cottage with its gentle rhythm. The words, filled with longing and passion, resonated with you, echoing the emotions that had been swirling within you for months.

As he read, you watched him, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes, the way his face lit up when he spoke of things he loved. You realized that you were falling for him, not just as the charming actor who played Vronsky, but as the man he was – intelligent, sensitive, and utterly captivating.

The premiere of Anna Karenina was a grand affair. The red carpet was a sea of flashing cameras, and the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. You and Aaron walked hand in hand, your smiles radiant. You wore a stunning gown, a modern interpretation of Anna's classic style, while Aaron looked dashing in a tailored suit.

Inside the theater, as the film began to play, you felt a surge of pride. You had poured your heart and soul into this project, and now, you were sharing it with the world. Watching the film with Aaron beside you, seeing your love story unfold on the big screen, was an experience you would never forget.

The audience was captivated, drawn into the tragic world of Anna and Vronsky. The chemistry between you and Aaron was palpable, igniting the screen with its raw emotion. When the film ended, the theater erupted in applause, a standing ovation that seemed to last forever.

After the premiere, you and Aaron slipped away from the after-party, seeking a quiet moment to yourselves. You found a secluded rooftop bar, overlooking the glittering city lights.

"What did you think?" you asked, turning to Aaron.

He took your hand, his gaze intense. "I thought it was perfect," he said, his voice husky. "And I thought that you were absolutely breathtaking."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "Y/N," he began, his voice filled with emotion, "I know this is probably moving fast, but I can't help it. I've fallen for you. Completely and utterly."

Your heart fluttered. "Aaron," you whispered, "I…"

"I know," he said, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "You don't have to say anything. Just… let me show you."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. It was a kiss that sealed your fate, a promise of a future together.

The success of Anna Karenina catapulted you and Aaron into the spotlight. You became one of Hollywood's most talked-about couples, gracing magazine covers and attending glamorous events. But amidst the glitz and glamour, you remained grounded, your love for each other the anchor that kept you steady.

Years passed, and your love story continued to unfold. You and Aaron starred in several more films together, each project deepening your connection, solidifying your bond. You built a life together, filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. The grand ballroom of Mosfilm Studios had witnessed the beginning of your love story, a story that was as passionate and timeless as the one you had portrayed on screen, but one that, unlike Anna and Vronsky's, was destined for a happy ending.

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aestheeredie · 9 months ago

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Comfort in your arms

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » » ──────»──────»──────

➳ 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐕𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟑𝟓 ೄྀ

➳ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨��𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲. ೄྀ

➳ 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! ೄྀ

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The front door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of Alexei's footsteps entering the house. It had been a long day for him, filled with the demands of his duties and the endless parade of high-society obligations. You sensed his weariness even before you saw him.

You were lying on your bed, reading a book to pass the time, when you heard his footsteps approaching. The door to your bedroom swung open, and there he was—Alexei, your beloved. His blond curls were slightly disheveled, and his blue eyes looked heavy with fatigue. The sight tugged at your heart.

Without a word, he started to shed his formal attire. His jacket was the first to go, followed by his cravat and waistcoat. He left on just his shirt and trousers as he made his way to you, his movements slow and tired. You closed your book, setting it aside, and opened your arms to him.

Alexei didn't hesitate. He climbed onto the bed, lying down and resting his head on your chest. You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing as he settled against you, his breath warm against your skin. He let out a deep, contented sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

You gently wrapped your arms around him, feeling the solid weight of his body pressing against yours. His proximity, the warmth of him, was a comfort you had come to cherish.

He looked up at you, his tired blue eyes meeting yours. "Please." he murmured, his voice soft and pleading. He gently grabbed your hand and placed it on top of his head.

Your heart melted at his silent request. You began to run your fingers through his blond curls, feeling the soft strands slide between your fingers. Alexei closed his eyes again, a small, contented smile forming on his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I needed this."

You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He nestled closer, his head rising and falling with each breath you took. The day's exhaustion seemed to melt away from him, replaced by a serene calm.

"I'm always here for you, Alexei," you said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You can always find rest in my arms."

He sighed again, this time a sound of utter contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "You are my anchor, my solace."

Your heart swelled with love for him. Your fingers never stopping their soothing motion through his hair.

As he lay there, resting his head on your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace. The world outside might be chaotic and demanding, but in this moment, in each other's arms, everything was perfect. Alexei's breathing grew steady and slow, and you knew he was drifting into a much-needed sleep.

You continued to card your fingers through his hair, a gentle smile on your lips. You watched over him, your love for him deeper than words could ever express. And as he slept, you knew that this was where he belonged—safe, loved, and cherished in your embrace.

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#alexei vronsky #alexei vronsky x reader #anna karenina 2012 #aaron taylor johnson #alexei vronsky x fem!reader #anna karenina #count alexei vronsky #count alexei vronsky x fem!reader #count alexei vronsky x reader #count vronsky #count vronsky x fem!reader #count vronsky x reader

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voxmortuus · 2 years ago

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✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Yandere!Count Vronsky x F!Reader!Wife ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Anna Karenina ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 3.6k ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ This was given to me by the lovely @bettytaylorversion || Okay, okay I'm lately obsessed with yandere Count Vronsky, so how about yan Vronsky suspecting that his wife is seeing someone or like in love with someone and it doesn't help when his mother keeps feeding his suspicions so he ends up locking the wife/reader up in their house in countryside/ another country house where no one can reach them and where he makes sure his beloved wife knows exactly how much he loves her. ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Dead Dove Do Not Eat | Yandere Count | Possessive Count | Aggressive Count | Stalker Count | Demanding Count | Accusations of Cheating | Toxic Mother | False ideas | False Suspicions from mother | Toxic Marriage? | Isolation of Reader | Slapping | Pushing or Shoving | Yelling | Slamming doors | Gripping readers throat | Passionate making out | Throwing reader on bed | Stripping reader | Unprotected PiV | Aggressive sex | Reader fights a bit but stops fighting | Dub-Con? | insinuated Cream Pie | Crying Reader | Fluff | Reader questions if she loves him at the end | Relationship conflictions | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I've been wanting to write for him for a long while! Thank you love for this request! I hope this is along the lines of what you were hoping for... Sorry if it doesn't hit exactly what you're looking for but I tried!!! Anywho.... I hope this brings you some joy. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ TIME PASSER DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @voxmortuus ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @peachyspaceslvt ✧*̥˚ ATJ TAGLIST: *̥˚✧ @earth-elemental18 @nyxvuxoa-writes ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

It was this gnawing feeling, this feeling of dread, sorrow, a pain in his gut he couldn't shake. Watching you go as he leaned against the window frame, he knew where you were going. He knew, he just had this gut feeling that he couldn't quite shake. It ate at his heart, it ate at his brain, it was like these cogs and wheels working, but not in a way of rationality. His thoughts were completely irrational. Looking out that window as your carriage vanished into the thick fog of the dawn, he felt so lost, so angry. He wasn't happy, and not happy may be quite an understatement.

Placing a hand-rolled cigarette between his lips he grabbed a match from the fireplace and lit it. The smoke bellowed above, tossing the match into the fire he turned to see his mother sitting at the table.

"She does not have love for you anymore, Alexei." She stated. Her tone appeared caring, honest, maybe even having pity, but it was just because she didn't like you.

"She must love me. That is my wife, she must." He stated he didn't seem demanding about it, he seemed sad, heartbroken even.

"But she does not. She will never love you as she loves him. What married woman is happy with her husband? She has grown bored of you. Had she not she would not go to him as she does." She points out.

His heart, if it was a glass a cat had pushed off the counter it would have shattered. He only hoped that you were as enraptured by him as he was about you. He looked up at the wall, the painting of you seemed to be watching. He closed his stormy blue eyes and looked back at his mother.

"She does love me. I know it to be true. You speak lies, like a snake in the garden." He snapped and walked to the table and had taken a sip from the slightly sweetened tea he had poured only moments before your leaving. Sitting there he tapped his smoke against a small crystal ashtray and his mind became overrun, thinking of everything his mother had stated. Thinking of those possibilities. What were you doing? Were you spreading your legs for him? Was he satisfying you? Were you unhappy with him? Did you not love him? Did you grow bored of him? He rubbed his lip a moment as he took another drag before looking at his mother.

"When she comes home, I will settle this." He stated. Taking the cup and his almost-gone smoke and had vanished to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed after putting the cup on the bedside table and looks over your side of the bed. It was too much, these feelings he had, it was like they were just bubbling up, ready to overflow and put out the fire that kept the pot lit. Feeling the stinging in his nose from the slight anger he ran his hand through his curly blonde locks and his jaw clenched as he put his smoke out in the ashtray and grabbed his clothes for getting dressed before he slammed the bedroom door.

His mother had heard the slam and had made her way to the room. Letting herself in she looked over him and sighed. "I just want what is best for you."

"I said I would take care of it. I do not need your help. She is my wife, not yours." He sort of snapped.

"You are right, she is your wife. And your wife is off with another man, spreading her legs and enjoying her time away from you. So how are you going to handle that Alexei?" She asked.

"I will take her away from here. I will take her far away from everyone. Including you." He snapped. "Now if you do not mind, I am getting dressed. Go find something else to bother." He snarled slightly as he escorted her out of the doorway and closed and locked the bedroom door.

Looking out the bedroom window and looking over the garden, he watched the flowers bob from the heaviness of the heads that were filled with the morning dew. It was something so simple, and yet even looking at their beauty, he saw you, he saw your smile, your smooth skin, your curves, he saw how your hair fell, that glow in your eyes when you were happy. You had to love him, why was he questioning it? Why was he standing there, looking out on those flowers questioning if you loved him?! With a clenched jaw and a knitted brow, he threw open the closet door and grabbed his attire for the day.

After fastening the last button on his coat, he makes his way back to the kitchen- it's like he doesn't want to acknowledge the other parts of the home without you here. Feeling lost, and one track minded. He didn't like that you were gone, it loomed over him like a dark cloud heavy with rain looms over the dirt countryside roads. He needed to know where you were going. He needed to know what you were doing. He needed to know what you were saying. Were you tired of him? Were you unhappy? It just gnawed at him like a beaver gnawing on a log.

Why was this even a feather of a thought? It's not that he didn't want you to have friends, it's just, why did they have to be male friends? And even then, it wasn't the idea of male friends that bothered him, it was the embedded, plated thoughts from the snake in the garden that made him believe that you were unhappy, that you were not in love with him any longer, that you were looking for a way out of this relationship. Well, that was going to be nipped in the bud right away. There was going to be no second-guessing it, not after this.

He decided to gather himself a little more and decided to head out to find you. He had these questions that needed answers. He turned to look at his mother who was still there. "Watch the house while I am away. We will be gone for a while." He states. His mother went to speak but before she could retort with a comment he was out the door and off to the stables.

After a few hours of looking and getting a general idea of where you were he stopped, getting off the carriage he approached, standing a good distance behind as you stood there, talking to another man. Oh, this did not sit well with him, but he watched and observed. With a lick of his lips and a look of heartache, as you touched the other man's face, he couldn't help but feel that slithering snake of a mother of his was right.

The more he watched, the more you laughed, the closer this man seemed to be getting to you, and the more it climbed up him like ivy claiming lattice fencing. This green envious monster coils around his every nerve, his nostrils flair as he walks toward you and clears his throat, but you don't pay much attention until he grabs your arm and pulls you to him.

You gasp and look over his face. "My Love, what are you doing here?" You ask him.

"I could ask you the very same." He states. His stare was cold, his stare pained, and his stare… it bore into you like a hot glue gun into plastic.

"I am just out with a friend, we do this every week. It means nothing." You state honestly.

"Does it? Does it really mean nothing? You were touching his face, and laughing with him like you do with me. Do I not make you happy anymore? Have you grown bored and weary of me?" He asks you with a small shake in his voice almost as if holding back tears.

"Of course you make me happy, why would you ask such a thing?" you respond back looking into his stormy blue hues.

His jaw clenches and he looks at your friend and back to you. "We are leaving." He states as if dismissing you from your date with your male friend.

"What? No. Alexei, no." you stated.

"I do not know him, nor do I like how you were touching him, we are going somewhere. You'll like it. Get in." he states and gestures to the carriage.

"Alexei, no." You state firmly.

He clenches his jaw and looks over you. "Do not make me put you in there myself. Now. Be a good wife, and get in the carriage." He snarls lowly.

Licking your lips you look over his face and let out a slight breath before getting into the carriage. Feeling the shake of the carriage from the door closing. Placing your hands in your lap you look down, studying them a moment before you close your eyes almost in defeat, and wonder where he is taking you. It was clear he wasn't taking you home. Why was he suddenly acting this way? What was it that made him feel like you were unhappy? You began to study yourself, you even began to question yourself. But why? His actions alone.

His actions just then made you question if this was really where you needed to be. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe he was seeing something you were not seeing. Were you really happier with your friend than you were with him? Was he not seeing how much you loved him? Were you really doing something bad? You turn back and look at him as he stops the carriage and climbs into the back of it with you as someone else takes over. Someone he had paid to drop you both off and take the carriage back to the house.

You sit there, in silence, and you study him, you study his face, his eyes, how his jaw twitches, how his brow knits, how his eyes seem to be full of sorrow, and maybe is that hate? You look down, and you think about all you've done, but you can't help but shake your head. You love this man, and he was blind to false things. Was there a way to fix it? Was there a way to get him to see that you love him just as much as he loves you?

"Where are we going? There is nothing for miles." You point out looking out the little window of the carriage door.

"We're going someplace secluded." He states.

"Secluded? Whatever for?" You ask with a slight bit of worry in your tone.

"Enough with the questions, you will see when we get there." He states, short in his tone.

You lick your lips and hike a brow before looking back down at your lap and letting out a slight sigh. You feel this could get problematic.

By the time you get to where you were going, the sun had already set and come back up. You look over his face as he offers to help you off the carriage. Your jaw clenches and you shake your head.

"Are you serious? Why are we here? We are days away from home at this rate Alexie." You point out.

HE shakes his head and looks at you and looks over the country home before looking back at you. "You will survive. This is for a reason."

"THIS IS ABSURD!" You scream. The only thing you cause to stir is birds out in the field. Your jaw clenches and you look over him shoving past him and heading toward the inside.

He sighs slightly and shakes his head, he isn't expecting you to understand. Rubbing his brow a moment he looks up at the gray skies and then over on the vast rolling fields of nothing. A small smile creeps across his face as he listens to the front door being slammed. Another soft sigh escapes his lips as he heads toward the house.

Upon walking in he looks around and spots you standing there in the living room. As he walks toward you to join you, you turn and look at him.

"What is all of this about?" You ask.

"You need to see how much love I have for you. I cannot do that back there." He stated honestly.

"So you isolate me?!" You raise your tone.

"Yes! It keeps you away from another man touching you!" He snaps.

"NO ONE ELSE IS TOUCHING ME!" You snap back.

"HOW DO I KNOW?!" He steps closer to you.

"No. You don't get to ask me that question! How do you not see that I love you!? I have always loved you!" You snarl as you step forward challenging him.

"Well, I suppose now you can show me just how much you love me as I show you how much I love you." He stated coldly.

"Don't be so pigeon-livered." You growl to yourself. "You're being a floozer Alexei. What has ever gotten into you?" You ask him.

"Are you really going to throw insults at me? Pigeon-livered? Floozer? Do not." He grips your arm and pulls you close. "Do not cross me."

You shove him and look over his face. "Or what?" You ask with a tightly knitted brow. "What are you going to do?"

Stretching his neck from left to right he licks his lips and his jaw clenched.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!" You snapped.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!" He snapped back. He began to pace. "All I ever do is shower you with love and attention, I do nothing but prove to you how much you mean to me. I make sure you always put your best forward. And you do this. Run off with another man doing god knows what." He states.

Crossing your arms over your chest you stare at him a moment and blink a few times. "Are you blinded by your own selfishness right now? Can you not see past your own nose? I am not laying with another man Alexei! I have never laid with another man!" you snap.

"HOW DO I KNOW THAT?!" He snaps. "How do I know that?" He asked you. A complete and utter look of defeat sprawled across his features.

Walking to him you slap him across the face. Not once, but twice. Reaching forward he grips your throat and moves you through the house. Kicking open a door he shoves you into the bedroom and starts to unbutton his jacket. Looking over you his eyes hungry. His snarl was fierce, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear the bones grinding and you could feel the flex of his jaw. You try to shove past him but that wasn't happening.

"What are you going to do rape me Alexei?" You ask.

He scoffed and looked over at you. "Do you think that little of me? Strip." He demands.

"No." You cross your arms. At this point, you were fighting him to fight, how far could you push?

"I said strip!" He demands again. Walking to you he spins you around and starts to untie your skirt.

Layer by layer you fight, until you are both stripped down to mere thin layers. Tears staining your face, you look over him and shake your head, a small thumping sound of your heart feeling like it was echoing in the room.

"All I have ever wanted was for you to love me. You have to love me, you must love me." He states. He steps closer to you, looking over you he grips your face and pulls you near. "You will love me. You will." He states firmly.

Scared at this point you cannot find your words. He presses his lips to yours and at first, you give in, you cave, you wrap your arms around him and kiss him deeply, lovingly, longing for that affection he wanted to give you, but then you start to push away, saddened by the fact that he couldn't believe you, that he had no trust in you.

"No…" You start to push away, but you didn't want him to at the same time, it was this conflicting feeling.

"Do not tell me no, you want this…" he points out as he listens to your breathing.

You have no means of responding.

"I'm not taking that as a no." he states.

You give him a cold stare, looking over his face, his lips press against yours and you shove him back, and he throws you to the bed. You bounce once before he climbs on top of you and looks you over. He tilts his head and looks over your face and takes your wrists and places them above your head and looks over your face intently.

You attempt to wiggle free but he hovers over you, his body pressed against yours. In one hand he has your hands gripped together, in the other hand hikes up your skirt, he looks over you, and he leans in and nips at your lips. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you close your eyes. Shaking your head you begin to breathe heavier. It felt good, his hands on you, it always felt good, but there was this sense of fight that also washed over you.

As his lips found your neck he kissed up your neck to your jaw, finding your lips. While you loved his affection, you were terrified. Literally scared of him.

"Get off of me." you demand.

"Let me show you. See how much I love you." He takes your hand and places it on his hard cock. "This is how much I love you." He states.

You pull your hand away and turn your head in another direction. His senses overwhelm him, and unable to control himself he groans softly as he presses himself against you. You turn your head away from him, maybe checking out, but at the same time ever so present in this moment. As he thrusts himself into you you take in a deep breath. A whimper leaves your lips as a groan leaves his.

Looking over you he observes your features as he turns your face to look at him, leaning in he kisses you again. And it was then you cave, just a little. Your lips pressed against his, your hand moved up his arms to his hair and you pull him closer. Your hips roll against his thrusts and you begin to whimper against his lips. The feeling of him against you was something you always loved. Truthfully you never questioned this man's love for you. But you were conflicted because of how he was coming at you. You didn't know if you should fight him, or cave to him a little more.

The more he thrusts the harder he becomes in his motions, the more you fight. But the more you fight, the more he growls, it was a conflicting feeling all over again and you aren't sure what to do, it was overwhelming. You push him away, shoving him but he pulls you closer.

Feeling your body flush against his you let out another soft whimper. You move your hands to his shoulders as you feel him thrust deeper into you, your moans escaping you were almost pained but yet pleasure-filled. Your hips rolled against his as he continued to thrust with a fever. He pulls you even closer to him, pulling you into his lap as he guides you along his stiffened cock, nuzzling into you, nipping and biting at you.

The moans fill the bedroom, bouncing off the windows and the walls, and while you might be fighting him because of his choice of actions, this man was your life. You kiss him deeply as you both moan in pure pleasure. Your bodies collide in such a raw motion. Thrust after thrust, grunt, and groan after grunt and groan, screams of pure euphoria leaving you both. It all came to a halt with a trembling body-shaking finish, feeling as his cock twitched inside of you as hot ribbons of seed coat your velvet walls. He snarled against your skin, and you bring a hand across his face, and you begin to cry.

Holding you close, he looks down at you, smoothing your hair he presses his face against you.

"Shh… now now, everything is alright. I love you, so much." He whispers. "You have to love me back, you just have to." he says softly.

"I… I do love you, Alexei. I do. I wish you would see that." you say between sniffles.

He holds you close, nuzzling against you. "Shall we draw you a bath?" He asks.

Nodding your head he looks over your face and nods. "I shall draw you a bath. Think about what I said." He states.

"Are you isolating me? From everyone?" you ask as he gets up and slips his pants back on.

With a firm stare, he looks over you. "I am, and it's for our own good. You won't be seeing him, we will stay here as long as it takes." He states truthfully.

And like that, your heart becomes conflicted, you love this man, but you feel scared of this man… but then you look at him, and you don't feel afraid anymore. You just want him to see that you do love him. It's conflicting, and it's terrifying, you love him, but is it true? Staying here, you're only choice is to grow to love him. But that's been his goal all along, for you to love him, and for him to show you in so many ways how he loves you.

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lizzxoxo · 2 years ago

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WE NEED MORE ATJ FANFICS YALL😭 I LITERALLY KEEP SEARCHING EVERYWHERE,HERE,AO3,WATTPAD,I CANT FIND ANYTHING JUST SOME OLD FICS THAT IVE ALREADY READ LIKE 100 TIMEEEES😭😭

#tangerine x reader #dave lizewski x reader #sergei kravinoff x reader #alexei vronsky x reader #dave lizewski smut #kraven x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #kickass x reader #atj x reader #alexei vronsky x y/n #Aarontaylorjohnson #aaron johnson #tangerine bullet train

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phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings · 6 months ago

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One dance?

Fandom: Anna Karenina

Pairing: Count Vronsky/fem!reader

Plot: you’re at a ball, which is not your type of thing, and after an hour, you’ve had enough and go to leave.

Notes: this was written for @flufftober 2024 Day 9 prompt: “Don’t do that” - “But-”

Flufftober 2024 Masterlist - General Masterlist

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You had been at this ball for well over an hour. You did not see anyone of interest to you and you were just not interested anymore, so you made to leave.

“Don’t do that,” you heard a beautiful masculine voice behind you.

“But-” you started.

“Don’t leave. At least do me the honour of giving me one dance before you go,” he asked.

You turned and your eyes fell upon a man just as beautiful as his voice. You hadn’t seen him while you were glancing around the room. You’d know if you had.

He was holding his hand out, and you placed your hand in his. He lifted it slightly as he looked you in the eye. He leaned down, keeping his eyes on you until he kissed your hand.

You blushed and curtsied.

“One dance?”

“It would be an honour, kind sir,” you responded.

As he moved you to the dance floor, he whispered, “my name is Alexei Vronsky. What is your name?”

#fluff #flufftober #flufftober 2024 #flufftober day 9 #anna karenina 2012 #alexei vronsky x reader #count vronsky x fem!reader #count vronsky x reader

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status-kidnapped · 5 days ago

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𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 - 𝒜𝓁𝑒𝓍𝑒𝒾 𝒱𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓀𝓎

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader

Warnings: Obsession, Yandere

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Just what was it that he found so fascinating about you?

A young countess of that of one of the most disreputable families in Moscow.

The [L/N] Family was spoke of in whispers behind the aristocrats' fans and hands, snickers from the prosperous ladies of the houses mocking the household.

Alexei was well aware of this whispers that went on at banquets and balls. He, himself, had heard them countless of times. Falling victim to even that of his mother's fancy in gossip.

'Can you imagine it? It's such a shame, he was a good man at that. But he's ruined his family with his little scandal.'

Ruined.

That's what you were in societies' eyes.

No one would come to take your hand. Your family would slowly fall in the social ladder until they would have to sell you off in hopes of a suitable husband - or any husband at all for that matter.

'Oh, it's simply dreadful. Poor girl will have to pay for her brother's mistakes. And she was so pretty too...'

If they could sell you off. With word out and about of your bother having run off with a maid...nobody would want a daughter from a family who had raised their son so poorly that he would run off with someone from the lower class.

But that simply made you even more adorable in Alexei's eyes.

Nobody wanted you. Well, aside from him it seemed.

Alexei had met with you once or twice before. At a banquet held for the coming home of the military officers. Alexei had served with your elder brother. How his eyes lit up upon knowing that one of his comrades at such an adorable little sister.

You looked divine that evening. Dressed head to toe in a deep turquoise, your gown flowing out from where the corset reached your hips. You looked like an angel.

That's when his fascination started.

He had seen you around the [L/N] manor when he would go over and visit. Have a drink or two with your brother and father. Though you didn't ever speak with Count Vronsky, his eyes certainly followed you every time you passed by.

But then, your elder brother had run off with that maid. Alexei no longer saw you at banquets. No longer was able to stop by your family's manor. And Alexei couldn't have that.

You were far too adorable to simply let you go just like that.

He could save you, you know?

Save your family, your reputation, your status as a countess.

No more would you have to hear the gossip and murmurs of the other woman at parties. And once again Alexei would be able to spot you across the room, dressed in your finest of dresses and decadent jewelry.

You just simply have to give yourself to him.

And he would make you his adorable little wife. That would fix everything.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨�� ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

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nyxvuxoa-writes · 2 years ago

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ATJ Masterlist

Anything and everything under the cut is possibly mature in some way. It's best to always read any warning in my posts before reading the story. People under 18 are not welcome and I will not be nice about it. I do not consent to my stories being taken and posted elsewhere.

A Side Note: I am aware of how some people feel about sexualizing or "idolizing" bad guys. I am going to tell you now before you inbox me: I don't care, I have heard it before. You are entitled to your opinion and free to have it, but I don't have to agree with it. There is a block button, and you are free to use it or you can scroll on and go about your day.

Dating Ray Marcus would Include

Mine

Hot Sugar in the Afternoon

It Beats for You [WIP] - Anon Request, Moved to Drafts

Leather black and Eyes of Blue [WIP] - Anon Request, Moved to Drafts

We Are Meant to Be [WIP] - Yandere!Veronsky, Request, In Drafts

Dating Tom Ryder would Include

Love Bites

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fr-ogii · 2 years ago

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falling for you

count vronsky

x fem!reader; poc friendly

masterlist

request: "romantic hc when he meets his now wife after Anna's death and how he fell for her 💎✨" @hilalcoven

-> the count never thought he could fall for anyone ever again after the death of his lover, anna. he didn't even know how he would be able to live. he couldn't raise annie, their kid. despite barely having any distinguishing features yet, the thought that she would turn into someone that resembled anna was too much to bear. he felt awful that his daughter had to lose both her parents in such quick succession, but he could not force himself to raise her.

-> he had sworn off love entirely, convinced it would bring nothing but misfortune to him and any future lover of his.

-> but he changed his tune when he met you.

it was a cold september night in st. petersburg. it had been a couple years since the fateful day anna lost her life. the count had returned to the city from serbia - his time fighting against the ottoman empire was up.

he had expected the pain of his loss to have reduced itself after the years both away from anna and away from the city he became acquainted with her in. unfortunately for alexei, the pain came back as soon as he saw the skyline of st petersburg emerging from the horizon.

to escape this, vronsky visited a tavern as soon as he arrived in the all-too familiar city.

the warmth of the bustling building rushed to meet him as soon as the count opened the well worn door. the stench of cheap alcohol enveloped him as soon as he stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. his eyes landed on the bar that was situated a bit further back into the establishment and was occupied by two men who were clearly foreigners to this area and were speaking quickly in a tongue alexei could not understand. as was the unspoken rule, alexei sat two stools over and waited for the worker behind the bar to come over.

count vronsky had become impossibly quiet in the time away from anna. he only spoke when addressed. he avoided confrontation. it was as if the death of the mother of his child had left him mute.

an uncountable amount of minutes passed before a noise brought alexei out of his stupor. he had long since received his meal - a roasted meat he already forgot the name of. the pale ale in his mug had been nursed far too many times and was nearly gone.

his head snapped up when he heard that noise again. it was the trotting of a horse and the spinning wheels of the carriage it was pulling. there was something so recognizable about it. before alexei could be sucked back into his reminiscing tendencies, he turned around as the wooden door opened.

and there you were.

he wouldn't exactly call it "love at first sight", but he was certainly intrigued. count vronsky looked around the bar and noticed a couple other men that let their eyes flicker towards you periodically. aleksey stood slowly, stretching out the aches and pains that had grown in his joints in the many minutes he had been sitting. he would not let another man reach you before he could. and so, he began to walk over to you.

#anna karenina #count vronsky #count vronsky x reader #x reader #poc friendly #fluff #anna karenina x reader #x fem!reader #count vronsky x fem!reader #first meeting #mine 📹#anna karenina count vronsky #aleksey vronsky #alexei vronsky #alexei vronsky x reader #fanfic #leo tolstoy

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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

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mdni for kinktober, thanks my loves 🤍 main masterlists

10/03 - Mirror Sex (dave lizewski)

10/06 - Morning Sex (james potter)

10/07 - Cockwarming (pietro maximoff)

10/14 - Caught Masturbating (alexei vronsky)

10/16 - Innocence Kink (sergei kravinoff)

10/18 - Overstimulation (tom ryder)

10/20 - Sex Pollen (logan howlett)

10/21 - Sex Tape (tangerine)

10/25 - Predator/Prey (sergei kravinoff)

10/26 - Threesome (tangerine)

10/27 - Public Sex (james potter)

10/31 - Humiliation (logan howlett)

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babsworlds · 2 months ago

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STARS.

pairing. Count Vronsky x fem! reader

synopsis. you never enjoyed balls, until you found reason to do so.

warnings. nothing bad, mentions of alcohol, historical inaccuracies, reader’s last name is Nikolaeva.

babs’ note: i wrote this long time ago so it’s bad and also this is my first vronsky imagine!

ADMINS THE COLD AND NEVER-ENDING WINTER, the wide-open areas of Imperial Russia lay covered in a thick layer of snow. The sky, a deep and moody blue, added a sense of sadness to the entire empire.

However, inside the lavish and grand hall of Moscow, warmth and joyful laughter filled the beautifully adorned space. The splendor of the decorations was only matched by the energy of the evening's celebrations.

Among the noteworthy guests present at another grand ball, the Nikolaev family took their position. But this particular evening had a special attraction for you, you found yourself unexpectedly enjoying the event.

There was one specific reason for your excitement.

You and Maxim, your younger brother, stood by the edge of the dance floor, your spirits lifted as you secretly took glasses of alcohol from friendly bartenders who didn't seem to mind.

Meanwhile, your parents were deeply engaged in conversations with other elite members of nobility, seemingly unaware of the youthful mischief unfolding.

All evening long, you discreetly searched for Vronsky, your heart eager with anticipation for his arrival. Since your first conversation at the previous ball, you had found yourself eagerly looking forward to every noble event.

The dance floor buzzed with life, couples twirling gracefully. Your eyes flitted nervously through the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Vronsky.

“You look desperate,” Maxim remarked, his words a little slurred from the few sips of alcohol he'd had. You rolled your eyes at his teasing, perhaps because, just maybe, he was right.

Suddenly, the dance floor began to empty as people drifted away, creating a sense of openness in the room. And then, across the hall, you finally saw him.

His blonde curls were as immaculate as ever, and his piercing blue eyes were unforgettable. His stately bearing marked him as a man of high rank.

Even from across the room, Vronsky’s gaze was fixed on you, though occasionally interrupted by passersby.

You wore a black corset adorned with silver gems, perfectly complemented by a majestic black skirt. Your hair, styled in elegant curls, framed your face with grace.

Your heart raced as you saw Vronsky making his way towards you, weaving through the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but you stood your ground, a small, hopeful smile playing at her lips.

Finally, he stood before you, his presence overwhelming the space with a calming intensity. "Y/n," he greeted warmly, his voice resonating with a mix of familiarity and formality.

“Alexei,” you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

For a moment, you simply gazed at one another, the world around them fading into a distant blur. The connection between you was palpable, and it seemed as if everyone else in the grand hall had disappeared.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked, extending his hand. His eyes never left yours, filled with a sincerity that made your heart leap.

“Of course,” you responded, placing your hand in his. You and Vronsky stepped onto the dance floor, the music enveloping you as you began to move in perfect harmony.

As you danced, you felt the warmth of Vronsky's hand on your waist, firm and reassuring. His other hand held yours gently yet possessively. They moved with a grace that spoke of practice and passion. Each step, each turn, was executed with precision and elegance. The air was charged with an electric tension, making every touch, every glance, even more meaningful.

Vronsky led you into a spin, your skirt flaring out into a perfect circle, the silver gems catching the light and sparkling like stars. You laughed softly, the sound blending seamlessly with the music, adding to the enchanting atmosphere.

Your movements were a dialogue, a silent conversation between two souls. Vronsky's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and adoring. You swayed to the rhythm, your bodies perfectly in sync. He dipped you gracefully, and for a moment, you felt weightless, suspended in a world of your own creation.

As the dance went on, they drew closer, your steps becoming more intimate and entwined. The music swelled, and you moved with increasing fervor, lost in the magic of the moment. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, matching the rhythm of your dance.

Vronsky pulled you close, his breath warm against your ear. “Let’s disappear, let’s go for a walk somewhere, where we can be alone,” he suggested with a mischievous smile. You returned his smile, your teeth flashing as you grinned, your faces just inches apart. The alcohol was making you bolder and more daring. “Yeah, let’s go,” you agreed, the excitement and rebellion evident in your voice.

You slipped out of the grand hall, unnoticed by the engrossed crowd. The chilly air outside was a stark contrast to the warmth of the ballroom, but it only invigorated you. Vronsky wrapped his arm around yours shoulder, and you strolled down the deserted cobblestone streets, the night sky above you speckled with stars.

The city was hushed, and the only sounds were your soft footsteps and occasional laughter. You wandered aimlessly, weaving through narrow alleys and past grand façades.

You wandered through the glistening streets of the city, laughing at silly jokes that only seemed funnier in your tipsy state. As you walked, the cold night air nipped at your cheeks, but it only fueled your sense of adventure.

Eventually, you found yourselves on a bridge overlooking the grand yet frigid expanse of Moscow. The city lights shimmered like a thousand diamonds against the dark canvas of the night.

You leaned against the brick railing, your eyes flickering between the icy river below and the twinkling stars above. The stillness of the night was interrupted only by your quiet conversation and occasional laughter.

“The stars are beautiful, right?” You said softly, your eyes reflecting the celestial display above you.

But Vronsky wasn't looking up. He didn’t need to; his gaze was firmly fixed on you. In his eyes, the most beautiful star was right beside him. He was the admirer, entranced by your presence.

“They really are,” Vronsky whispered, his voice filled with sincerity as he continued to gaze at you, his eyes conveying a depth of admiration that words could barely capture.

Vronsky pulled you closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “To be honest, everyone told me you were a сука (bitch)” he confessed. You chuckled at the gossip that had always been whispered behind your back. “But Y/n Nikolaeva, you are the most mesmerizing and fun woman I’ve ever met.”

You remained silent, allowing him to continue. “You are so different from all the girls I’ve met. They were spoiled, arrogant, and much worse,” Vronsky said, pouring his heart out.

You finally looked at him with a mischievous smile. “Am I?” she asked.

Vronsky's eyes sparkled with amusement as he recalled your first encounter. “Yes, you are,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Y/n. You have a spirit that’s both fierce and captivating.”

You felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. You had always been aware of the whispers and gossip, but hearing Vronsky’s genuine admiration made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before.

You stood there on the bridge, the cold night air wrapping around them like a blanket. The city of Moscow lay before you, grand and imposing, yet in this moment, it felt intimate and personal.

Vronsky looked into yours deep eyes, seeing so much and yet not enough. He couldn't help but glance at your delicate lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them.

He moved closer, the space between you shrinking. The sounds of the city around them faded away, leaving only the two of you under the starry sky. But just as he was about to close the distance, you broke the moment with a light laugh. "Let’s go back before they start to think we’re up to something,” you said, your voice teasing but firm.

Vronsky saw the playfulness in your eyes. You knew what he wanted, but you weren’t going to give in easily. Not tonight. There was something about you, a spark, that made him want to try harder.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright,” he said, a mix of amusement and determination in his voice.

You took his hand, leading him back. Your fingers intertwined, fitting perfectly together.

As you walked back through the shiny streets, the city lights sparkled around them, making everything feel magical. You passed grand buildings and empty squares, each step filled with unspoken words and possibilities.

#count vronsky #alexei vronsky #anna karenina #anna karenina 2012 #count vronsky x reader #alexei vronsky x reader #fem reader #vronsky x fem reader #atj #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson #x yn #ynstories #reader insert #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj fic

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etherealily · 17 days ago

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ᵛⁱᶜᵉˢ ~ ᵃˡᵉˣᵉⁱ ᵛʳᵒⁿˢᵏʸ

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader. ➵➵➵➵ (consider reading my other Vronsky fics.)

Warnings : Perversion (?) Ogling. ⚠ mentions of DV + Abuse. Please, DISCRETION.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: See him as he sees you.

•─────⋅☽⋅─────• •─────⋅ ✩ ⋅─────• •─────⋅☾ ⋅─────•

"It is a common fantasy these days, you know? I am lying in bed, and I turn to my side and I simply want to... how do I explain this? I want to...", you struggled, eyes dancing frantically around the dimly lit fireglow-filled room for the words.

"Go ahead. You may say whatever your heart desires."

"I want to see my nails elongate into claws and satisfyingly sink into his chest, so that I may... god, so that I may reach into the depths and rip out his black little heart.", you finally spat out, breathless from the struggle and the finality of your words. Your hand rested over your heart, imitating your description.

Alexei nearly pounced right there. He nearly reached over and yanked your palm off your left breast so that his may take its place. But he did not.

"And do what with it?", he inquired, as though he were asking your plans for the summer. As though he was not burning inside, engulfed utterly by tongues of depraved lust.

"Crush it."

He had to inconspicuously set his pillow onto his lap and cross one knee over another at that one.

"Would that make you feel better?"

You nodded. "Heaps."

"Good that you have not done that as of yet. I doubt you'd feel 'heaps' better in prison."

He couldn't help it. He was sick. A degenerate. He knew that. But you were so... you were... you- god, see, you've now got him struggling.

You were laid down across from him, your legs up on the wall and your head on the divan, arm cushioning it. A perfect 'L' shape. Perhaps to taunt him. Remind him 'L' stood for Lust. Loyalty, something he did not seem to possess.

Hair hung off the edge of the divan, enticing and inviting. Synonyms? Yes. Those two were synonyms of each other. They were also synonyms for you, yourself. You were those things, through and through. Driving him up the fucking wall, you were.

It certainly didn't help that you absentmindedly played around with your feet, them moving to a rhythm your mind had privately conjured up, against the wall that they were so elegantly propped up against, your legs opening, closing, spreading, closing — god, depravity was the sweetest torture.

Was he a bad human being for readily supplying (and just plying) you with alcohol so that you would associate him with freedom of thoughts? Perhaps. But he liked listening to you, watching you, being as good a source of comfort as one such as him could possibly be.

God, yes, he felt like an alienist, listening to your problems.

But you giggled when you were drunk, opened up your beautiful soul to him. And, yes- fine, he might get a bit of a peek down your top out of it, sure.

"You know what I've always wondered?"

Why stars flicker at times? What it would feel like to have wings? How steam engines work? It was always a different thing with you, always leaving him enraptured. "What's that, dear?"

"Is he not your best friend? Did you not save his life in the army? Why do you open your doors for me? Let me in? Let me talk ill of him but then still keep mum about it in his presence?"

Because I love you and it is tearing my soul into more pieces than there are flickering stars in the night sky.

"I just think you need a reprieve. A source of comfort."

He leaned over, his lips lilting into a soft smile. "More?"

You nodded offhandedly, eyes closing as you listened to the tinkly sounds of cascading liquid. "I worry for you. You know I do."

Once more, you nodded. "I do. And I am grateful for it."

"No need. I am simply doing my duty as your friend."

The word scorched his tongue.

However, the vodka scorched yours, and him being able to watch such a beautiful scene made the rest of the world bearable.

"Is he not also your friend?"

"It is an odd predicament I find myself in, yes. But I think it is wrong, what he does to you."

"You think being disloyal to me is wrong?"

Raise of an arched brow. "You do not?"

"I think it is evil. 'Wrong' is an understatement."

"Apologies.", he murmured, adjusting the top buttons of his coat, eyes fastened desperately to the firelight. "Evil."

"It makes me laugh, sometimes. You apologise for everything, he apologises for nothing. What he lacks in kindness, you make up for. But what you lack in responsibility, he makes up for."

He snorted, taking a burning sip, fireballs sliding down his throat. "I am irresponsible, now, am I?"

"Say what you will about him, but he will never let me down in public."

"No, he only does that privately. In your own home. In your own bedchambers."

You gazed at him for a moment, before shifting slightly. "Turn around."

He turned away from you, allowing you to bring your legs down and back to appealing gravity, adjusting your clothes, before you cleared your throat — an indicator that he may look once more. As though he'd not pictured everything and had such a vivid mental image that it was almost tangible, true fact that that was how you looked underneath your layers.

"And you, Alexei?", you drawled, reaching forward to pick up the glass he'd so reverently refilled for you before leaning back, tilting your head. "How is it you are not married and beating up your wife or being unfaithful to her?"

"I've been too young for marriage so far. My mother, however, has started the search, this season."

"I am younger than you, Alexei, and I have been married for two years."

"It is different for women, you know that."

"Yes, why is that?"

"You do not want me to get into that. Not truly."

"I suppose not."

He sighed. You looked so utterly gone, and it wasn't the liquor. No, you were so good at handling your alcohol that you nearly - key word - nearly rivalled him. You looked spent. Tired. As though you'd lived ten decades though you'd just completed two.

"May I?", he asked, standing up and gesturing to the seat next to you after you reverted back to your wall-assaulting position after downing the glass.

You shrugged, looking at him upside-down as he sat. "It is your home."

He slumped down gracefully onto the seat, looking down at your flipped face. He smiled. "He is an imbecile."

"You're preaching to the choir there."

His fingers were oars on a smooth lake, the way they combed through your hair that dangled off the edge of his divan. His rings concealed and revealed, concealed and revealed as his hands moved, and he observed it all, almost mesmerized. Your hair. You.

You huffed, glaring at your hands. "The nails have not elongated into claws as of yet."

His laugh reverberated through the room, as loud as possible without alarming the servants, who might pry and then talk of another estate's Lady in his chambers at this odd hour of the night.

Gently, he took your hand in his, and brought it to his lips, a soft brush of them against each 'non-elongated' nail. "It will take time.", he murmured, the statement punctuated with a firm kiss to the back of your hand.

The issue was that you were used to his kisses.

Alexei's always that way, at least that was the common belief - an endearing, affectionate drunk.

Not a man who can handle his liquor far better than others and simply chooses to shower certain friends' wives with affection. No, of course not.

"I do not have time."

"I will buy you some."

"To kill him?"

"Kill him?"

"Did you not say you wished to, as well?"

"I said he will die and repent for what he did to you. I never said I wished to be the cause of his death."

At times, actually, he regretted saving your husband's life. Absolutely regretted it. And then he went and sat in the pews at church to repent for those thoughts. At home, they resurfaced. He stopped going.

Coveting another man's wife was a mortal sin.

Another man's wife being this alluring was a mortal boon.

You see his dilemma?

And hence, he gently placed your hand back down onto your stomach, leaning back once more, stroking at his mustache, then his jawline, then finally, restlessly scraping his nails against the armchair's armrest.

"Do you think they are right?", you asked.

"Pardon?"

"The preachers and all. That we are all born sinners?"

"Perhaps."

"Then what is the point of attempting not to sin, if our mere existence is sin, anyway?"

"The point is that you go to church and keep them all employed. That's true with nearly every religion on the planet."

Silence.

"You should preach."

"Should I, now? I'm afraid you'd be the only attendee."

"'Least you'd have one. Your sermons will most likely involve copious amounts of the sacramental wine."

He nodded. "Cannot argue with that."

A beat. This would be the end of him, if you were offended.

"Would you show them to me? The bruises?"

You shifted to look up at him upside-down, before shaking your head, playing with the obnoxiously lovely ring on your left hand. "They are not in places I can reveal to you."

He nearly screamed.

"I see."

"Oh, no, no, nowhere scandalous. Just...", you muttered, gesturing at the space a thumb's breadth away from the underside of your chest - your rib, essentially - and the curve of your spine as you arched it to demonstrate. Not to blaspheme, but Jesus.

"Do they still smart?"

"Slightly."

"He does love you, you know? He just... he is just a different person after that day on the front lines. You had the misfortune of marrying him two weeks after it." He said it more for himself than you, and he knew for a fact that he didn't believe it himself. So why would you?

"He told you that, did he?"

"I can see it."

"I cannot, and I live with him."

He inhaled deeply, his hand coming back to stroke your hair - and, slyly, your cheek, too - as he bit the inside of his lip till it probably split open in two. "You come here and you don't even cry. The first time you had come, I thought that would happen. That you would cry. You just drink and act as though you are telling me of a story you have written."

"Yes, it does seem that way, does it not?"

"Do you know what it is? That numbness you are feeling?"

"Do you?"

"I think I might have an inkling. I think you are numb because you are looking for a way out." Enter Vronsky.

"Like murder."

He smiled fondly, shaking his head. "You would not murder him."

"You know me too well. I wish I could."

"Yes, I know you wish you could. But you won't. Your way out is not murder."

"What is it?"

"Finding refuge."

"Refuge? Go home to my parents' estate?"

"In the arms of another."

"Infidelity for men is brushed under the carpet. Infidelity for women is equivalent to me staring down the barrel of a gun."

See, this was true. But he was an opportunist, a sick, sick, opportunist, who maybe, also, perhaps was not, seeing as he adored you, to an extent you wouldn't be able to conceive of. Perhaps this was him truly offering you a way out, not offering himself a way in.

Perhaps.

"That is true, yes, but you must understand that being deprived of love, it is... well, honestly, it is not particularly—"

"It is late. The maidservants will be up in a few hours, I must make it back to my estate."

"I apologise.", he muttered, standing up as you did, too. "Did I offend?"

"Not at all."

"I feel as though I have."

"You feel too much, Alexei."

It was almost as though you knew.

•─────⋅☽⋅─────• •─────⋅ ✩ ⋅─────• •─────⋅☾ ⋅─────•

The following month went by with no visits from you, simply the occasional meeting of eyes across a ballroom, or the subtle raising of a glass in greeting. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then, the month after that. No more visits. He'd resorted to being in a perpetually inebriated stupor at that point.

The third month, however, when he had started giving up hope. That was when he heard the familiar knock on his door. You'd snuck in again.

"Come in.", he called, because he could not trust himself to say your name.

"I brought my own this time. Congratulations."

"On what, exactly?", he laughed, accepting your brandy.

"Your engagement."

"Oh. That. It isn't a real engagement, so I would not particularly drink to it."

You tilted your head, nodding gratefully as he gestured for you to sit.

"It is to encourage the families who are holding out on the alliance deals to buck up and make a better offer.", he clarified, uncorking it with a familiar, satisfying pop that had you both giggling toothily.

You gasped softly, in amusement. "If you are as good a husband as you are a businessman, your wife will be most fortunate."

"That she will be.", he grinned, the room silent as he filled two cups.

"None for me, thanks." Oh, no. That was all he had to offer you.

"You are not...?", he mumbled, gesturing vaguely at your stomach. He would retch and moan and break down if that were the case, as it most definitely would not be his. He'd barely even seen your knees, let alone anything else.

"With child? Please. No. I think I am letting the world pass me by, by drinking."

"How's that?", he asked, letting out a subtle breath of relief as he finally stretched his legs out onto the seat of the divan next to you, tilting his glass in your direction.

"Days blur together. I am barely conscious when they don't. I have a very limited amount of time on Earth- oh, don't look at me like that, Alexei, simply because I've chosen not to be slave to my vices."

He couldn't hide the fit of laughter after you'd noticed its blossoming. "I'm sorry, my Lady, I really am, but it's simply— oh, you've delighted me today, and things rarely do. I must congratulate you.", he snickered, holding out his hand - that you kicked away.

"Oh, don't be like that, come on.", he chuckled.

"You laugh now, Alexei, but soon enough, you'll be drunk and sixty, wondering where it all went wrong."

"I know very well where it all went wrong, but I will not tell you unless you drink with me, but since you are on a spiritual path of redemption...", he drew out, teasingly.

"I do not care enough to drink just to hear your silly life story, Alexei.", you retorted, laughing under your breath.

"Is that right?", he mused, fist under his chin as he gazed at you.

"Quite so."

He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing subtly at you before he shrugged, his grin never quite fading. "Suit yourself. So. How is life over these past three months of you avoiding me as though I suffer from the Black Death?"

"Oh, hush, you could not have missed me that much. I have been contemplating. Quite a bit."

"On ways to murder your beloved? Do tell."

"No, on ways to work on my marriage. If I am to live with this man for the rest of my days—"

"Not if you murder him.", he interjected, ducking as you tossed one of his own pillows at him.

"May I finish? Or will you continue using words from my past drunk state against me?"

"You may continue, my dearest, darling-est — that is not a word, is it a word?"

"What I was saying is that I think I must make this work. I wish to be happy, Alexei, you understand?"

"And you think he can do that? With what? A few words of sense thrown into his head, going in one ear and out the other?", he scoffed, downing his glass. "Delusion becomes you, my dear Lady."

"Why must you be so pessimistic, Vronsky? Does it amuse you?"

His fingers rapped on his armchair, and he fought the urge to sink his nails into it. The servants complained of a feral animal getting into the house far too often for him to afford another 'attack' that was truly just his own nails taking out his emotions on his chair. The emotions that came whenever he thought of you. "Follow me."

"Where?"

"My bedchambers. I have to show you something."

"Are these not your bedchambers?"

"No. These are my faux-chambers, I would say. I do not like allowing too many people into the most private aspects of my life. I let them imagine they have come this far. But my real chambers...", he began, grinning slyly as he leaned over to pull back a tapestry. "Are here. My Lady." He extended his hand for you to take.

You followed him, allowing him to lead you in front of him. Your eyes shimmered with blues and golds and the occassional silver. "So this is Alexei Vronsky's reality."

"It is. Does it please you?", he asked, as softly as one could muster in the tipsy state he seemed to perpetually be in lately. His chin treaded the dangerous line between resting on your shoulder and hovering above it as he tilted it to watch your eyes reflect the surroundings - what he went to sleep looking at every night.

"All your prized possessions are here, then?"

"Right here. In this room. Each and every one."

He was lucky that you had no pre-existing doubts about his intentions, or you would have picked up on that far too quickly.

"What is this?"

"An heirloom. Careful with that one, I broke it as a child and my mother constantly threatened to disown me during the one week we were scrambling to find a melder for it.", he informed, watching you gently place the chalice back at the top of his bookshelf.

"I do not want to face the wrath of your mother."

"Neither do I."

"And this? An heirloom?"

"Ah, uh, no, I bought that after a visit to Paris, where it was first exhibited.", he told you, biting the inside of his cheek. How is it you were drawn precisely to the objects in his room that he most often stood in front of, in the exact order as he himself did?

"What is it called? I have never seen it before."

"I do not know what it is called.", he admitted. "I like to call it a snow-globe."

"A snow-globe?"

"It looks like a snowstorm, does it not?"

"No."

"Well, that is because you are not indulging it in its true purpose. Give it a shake.'

"It is glass."

"Give it a shake. I promise, it will not break."

He watched your normally pensively somber eyes light up in childlike delight. "Oh, it does look like a snowstorm! Yes, snow-globe is apt, I think. You ought to get that patented."

"Snow-globe? I doubt it will catch on."

"You will regret it. I warn you.", you grinned, gently placing it back down with the proper etiquette that one must maintain when handling glass.

"I just might. And you get to come to my home — when I am sixty and in a drunken stupor — to gloat."

"I can and will."

"And I will be glad that you have come to visit."

You smiled at that, though he wasn't sure if that was out of pity or lack of something to say, and he was too excited by your movement to the grandfather clock by the window (his usual next stop if he were touring around his room) to care.

"Why are all these private?", you asked, your finger gliding over the edge of the clock. "I would think you'd want to have them in your faux-chambers. Impress your faux-friends."

"Why would I want that? I only have faux-chambers because I do not respect them enough to know the real me."

"And you respect me?"

Despite the disrespectful thoughts I have about you? "Absolutely."

"I'm honoured, Count Vronsky, I am."

You stopped talking, then, and his head snapped up, his eyes ripped away from the empty glass he was gripping. You'd found it.

"If you tell me you painted this—"

He moved closer, his chin this time fully on your shoulder as he gazed at the painting with you, his palms seamlessly finding their way to your shoulders. "I did. My first and only painting. Do you like it?"

"Hands that have created such art must not be forced to paint with only red forever." This again. If he didn't know better, he'd say you were worried for his safety upon his return to his post in the military.

"What else would you have me do? Hm?", he murmured, gripping tighter onto your shoulders to stop his lips from placing themselves onto your cheek. "I am an army officer, my Lady. Unlike your husband, however, I do not bring my work home. So I can create things like this."

"Things like this? Listen, I know the artist, and he would not like you calling it that."

He laughed softly. "The artist, I think, would say you are patronising his art too much."

"The artist is an idiot. It is... I can almost taste the wine in that glass, and I can almost feel the silk of that gown. I think, in fact, I own a gown similar to that. And the flickering stars in her hair, the contrast of those to that gown, it is almost... it is right there, tangible, even."

"You would purchase this?"

"I would purchase it a hundred times over. In installments at full price for each square inch of it."

"Draining your husband's fortune is also a slower, satisfying form of murder."

You laughed softly, and he rubbed his thumbs over your shoulders. "Tell you what. In a week, it is your birthday. I shall send this to you."

Turning your head half-way, you parted your lips. "Oh, no, I couldn't—"

"You said it yourself, the gown looks similar to yours. It may as well be a painting of you. The flickering stars — haven't you also asked me why stars flicker? And you did, at one point, drink wine, did you not? Before you were enlightened to how any wine that was not converted by our Saviour from water is a vice?"

'It may as well be a painting of you.' Speculating over his own painting being of the subject of his daydreams in conversation with the subject of his daydreams was the most audacious thing he had ever done. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't fighting a smirk.

"This is beautiful, Vronsky, it belongs with the rest of your beautiful things."

"I agree that it is beautiful. So it belongs with you. The most beautiful thing."

Perhaps the brandy was far too strong.

"You are bold, Vronsky."

"Bold?", he snorted. "I'm not bold. Bold would be if I—", he scoffed, cutting himself off before finally bringing his lips to your collarbone. "This is bold."

"Alexei—!"

"This, my dear, is bold.", he murmured, his hands descending from your shoulders to your waist, tugging you closer against him. "You realize impropriety is me doing this when you are even the slightest bit inebriated, however, here you stand, three months sober, not a drop of liquor in that fascinating blood of yours. I am nothing if not a gentleman."

"A gentleman.", you scoffed.

Swiftly, he turned you around, jaw clenched in seriousness as he held your face to ensure you were looking at nothing but him. "Yes. A gentleman. I have been your source of respite from the coldness your husband presents you with every day, have I not? Why can your respite not bring you warmth, to counter the harsh bite of cold?"

"I cannot stoop down to his level, Vronsky, I simply cannot."

"So he must have all the fun. The comfort. The mirth. You do not deserve an ounce, is that what you are meaning to say? I do not agree. In fact, I vehemently, aggressively disagree.", he declared, your hair being pushed behind your diamond-clad ear by his adept fingers, before a kiss was placed on your forehead by his even-more adept lips.

"Yield, darling, please. Yield, and I will give you everything you deserve and more."

Your breaths mingled, and he was certain he had you.

"Yes?", he asked, his voice quieter than a pebble thrown into a snowstorm. "Say yes."

"Alexei, I cannot."

"It is one syllable."

"I cannot, in good faith."

"Right, because he has been both good and faithful?", he scoffed, biting the inside of his cheek in hopes that he could bleed the pain away.

"Alexei, I—"

"I have been there for you, through it all. I saved his life, and, if you wish me to be truthful and candid with you, I wish I had not. For, perhaps, in the wake of his demise, you would have been mine. Or at least not have to endure a marriage that is killing you on the inside."

"I am grateful for you, Alexei, but it is not something women may do and simply... live with."

His patience slipped from his hold, right then, and he crashed his lips against yours, desperation and pain and love amalgamating right there between the two of you, stars colliding.

And you did not pull away. And that is when he knew.

•─────⋅☽⋅─────• •─────⋅ ✩ ⋅─────• •─────⋅☾ ⋅─────•

His fingers softly traced his name onto your back, in sloping, carefree cursive. And you moved closer.

Hair shared by the Lady in his portrait and the Lady in his bed flowed through the fingers in his other hand, and he rested his chin on your head, your face in his bare chest.

Sighing as his eyes caught onto the glistening diamond ring that did not rest callously on the floor or on his bedside, but on your finger, as it had always been, he shifted, oblivious to the prospect of that possibly waking you.

"It is earlier than you think.", he assured, reluctantly allowing you to untangle from him and sit up, his sheets covering you - held up by one of your delicate hands - making you a vision in his eyes. "They will not be looking for you."

"They are always looking for me."

"As am I. Would you return to me, please? I was quite enjoying that position. I could see all of you, in your glorious entirety."

"You flatter me too much.", you groaned, running a hand through your hair, subconsciously (to his joy) following the same path he had moments ago, before flopping back down, his arm acting as your pillow.

"I think I flatter you an adequate, acceptable amount. The painting may have been a bit much. However, no regrets."

"So that was my gown."

"With the flickering stars you like pondering about."

"You notice far too much."

"You are far too noticeable."

"Do not back-talk me."

"Do not talk at all, then.", he murmured, eyes not leaving yours as he kissed up your wrist.

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring at the door as though your husband would somehow come calling and then be led not to the drawing room, but to his chambers and then identify the tapestry to be a marker of a secret entrance, then storm in, furious. It was truly amusing, how your mind worked. He'd gladly spend the rest of his existence working it out.

"Stay. Please. Or do you mean to tell me I will never have you again?"

You sighed, turning from him to face his wonderfully elegant ceiling, and he continued kissing up your arm, now. "You are my morning daydreams, you haunt my afternoon fantasies and you are the backbone of my nightmares, and yet, I love you. I love you so much, it consumes me."

"Alexei, please, just stay in the moment."

"Ah, but I cannot, can I? For this moment is fleeting. And so was the previous, and the one before that, and every moment since I first laid eyes on you.", he murmured, his kisses at your shoulder now, and far more languid than before. "Love is an ocean, you realise, my Lady, it engulfs me, drowns me, not a single cell in my body isn't drenched in you."

"Your words are beautiful but—"

"Are they not enough? Would you like ten more portraits? A hundred more?"

"Alexei, listen. I am so grateful for you."

"Do not- I am not your friend, you know this.", he muttered, his eyes closed and head shaking as he rested his forehead against yours.

"I know, I know.", you assured, nodding against his forehead.

"Stay here.", he whispered, kissing your cheek before this time hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "For a while longer."

"I will."

That would have to do, for now.

"I could protect you, you know?"

"From what? My own husband? Come off it, Alexei."

"You do not think I can? I am his best friend, I could—"

"It is not about your ability to, it is about the ethics of it. What's transpired between us is unethical."

"Yes, but...", he sighed, eyes closed as he pressed kiss after kiss to your palm. "I love you. Could you at least pretend that you reciprocate?"

How could he expect that of you? It was dangerous. Misguided.

"Please? How could it not be clear that my love is pure? I am not an opportunist, if that—"

"I never called you one. You are the purest soul I know."

Alright, even he would not go that far, but he would not be quick to correct you.

"Listen, I am so, truly grateful for you, you have helped me... immensely."

"I do not want to help you. I want to save you." A kiss to your jaw. "I want to protect you." A kiss down your neck. "I want to shield you." A kiss to your abdomen. "I want you."

"Hey, Alexei.", you muttered, gently tugging him back up. "I know, I know."

"Do you? For you seem intent on rejecting the offer of more."

"More? Alexei, this is immeasurably unsustainable. You know this."

"Ethics, you said.", he murmured, his hand absentmindedly dancing up your spine once more, before he sharply jerked you under him, the corners of his lips tilting up at your surprised laugh. "What shall I do with you, hm? My unethical beauty."

"What shall you do with me?", you asked, frowning.

"Well, I cannot, in good faith, as an army officer, allow you to exist in your siren-like, beguiling state.", he mused, shaking his head. "No, that simply will not do. You are a national threat, my love."

You smiled and he preened.

"Do you remember the first time we met?", he asked, after a resigned sigh he let out as he rolled onto his back, bringing you on top of him. "We had just returned from the military. Everyone from our regiment poured out of the train and my eyes caught sight of you amidst the chaos, a vision, an angel crafted to be the subject of my sole devotion, and I was deluded enough to, for a fleeting moment, believe you were there for me. Me. I scoff now, but it was so tangible, that thought. But, of course, you did not know me, and I had only heard of you in passing, from your husband. So I watched you run into his arms, I watched him kiss your cheek and your nose and your lips. And then he introduced you to me and I could do nothing but reign in my giddiness when you said my name, shook my hand and smiled at me."

"That is... that is beautiful, Alexei."

"But once again, it is not enough."

"What would you have me do, Alexei? Hm? Truly? Run away with you? With what faith? In our money? Finite. In our..."

"Love. You can say it, it will not burn you.", he soothed, his lips on your temple as though they belonged there.

"Either way, I cannot simply run away."

"I'm asking you to run to me every time that poor, sorry excuse of a husband of yours puts his hands on you or another woman. Will you?"

"I-", you sighed. How were you supposed to promise that?

"I will catch your eye in the next ballroom, the next garden party, anywhere. And if you look away, I will know."

"Know what?"

"That the word you are so terrified to utter from those angelic lips is sitting on your tongue."

•─────⋅☽⋅─────• •─────⋅ ✩ ⋅─────• •─────⋅☾ ⋅─────•

A napkin? A napkin.

A napkin around your champagne glass for spillages, you see.

However, you have never been given one of those. Of course, anyone could be clumsy on their worst days - at times, on their best days - but no one else had been given one.

It was only after you'd finished your glass of champagne that you actually took a moment and opened up the napkin.

'Library is two doors to your left after you reach the main hallway. V.'

You didn't frown. You weren't stupid.

Folding the napkin up, you snuck away as elegantly as you could without garnering suspicion, shaking your head as you did. You were about to strangle that Vronsky, absolutely—

You'd have screamed at the abrupt dragging of your arm had you not seen the flash of his vividly dazzling eyes paired with the shimmering gold of his hair before he'd clamped his hand over your mouth.

"You stick out at this tedious lullaby of a party like a dazzling symphony, my dear.", he breathed out by your ear, before he shut the door to the library.

"You are playing a dangerous game. Dangerous. Signing your initials?"

"'V' hardly tells anyone anything, and you look far too radiant for me not to take this opportunity— well, look at that. Perhaps I am an opportunist.", he remarked, before his hand picked gently at the pearls resting on your neck. "You know I told him to buy you these. He was ready to come back home from his duty with no present for his new bride, and I told him that was not right."

"You did not even know me."

"But I already cared far more for you than him, even without any knowledge on the beauty that is— these earrings were my gift, were they not?", he inquired, flicking your diamond earring and watching it swing subtly.

"I do not know, they were a wedding gift, that is all I know."

"I snuck it in there.", he shrugged, grinning in a manner that was equal parts coy and cheeky. "They look magnificent."

He was extremely good at pretending. He knew that. He could greet your husband with the sweetest show of camaraderie on the planet, the firmest, friendliest handshake, and then later that same night, that same hand would snake down his sheets in recollection of you, by your husband's side.

Now, you were also good at pretending. Pretending that you were not both contemplating suicide and murder. Not tonight, however. And (un)fortunately for you, he picked up on it.

"You are not alright."

"No, I am not."

"Has something happened?", he muttered, eyes fixed on you as his hand reached back to gently ensure that the door was shut, before crossing his arms.

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.

"Yes? What is it?" He's not deluded. He didn't think for a second some sort of romantic confession would slip out of those honeyed lips of yours. However, he was sure that whatever was going to happen next would change his world.

"I cannot... standing next to him is a difficult feat for me, I... I feel as though I cannot breathe. I know every woman in the ballroom that he has laid his hands on. I know every single word, I know-", you struggled, and he sat by you on the desk, arms over your shoulder as he buried you into his chest. He was to comfort you, not indulge his mind in its torrid and tawdry fantasies, but you were there, and he could do so much more than kiss your fingers and your hands.

He could save you.

"Look at me, my dear."

You shook your head, and he sighed, gently gripping your jaw as one would hold a newborn baby bird, before directing it to look into his impaling, intense eyes, full of the most genuine fake concern one could possess.

"I am going to kiss you now. I am going to kiss you now. And you are going to kiss me back, my dear, you hear me?"

You shook your head, but his thumb curved over your cupid's bow as he tilted his head. "Do you hear me?", he asked, stern and mildly terrifying. "Nod if you do."

You nodded.

"Good. Good.", he murmured, his nose battling against yours in a completely one-sided fight. "You should've married me.", he whispered, his tongue tracing the seam between your lips but not urging you to open up. "You should've chosen me."

"It wasn't a choice. I never knew you. You never even offere--"

"I mean subconsciously, and you know it. Subconsciously."

His fingers crept from your jaw down to your neck, his name traced along your collarbone, rubbing softly above your decolletage. "No. This is wrong.", he muttered, inhaling deeply. "No. You will kiss me. Of your own accord. I will not take advantage.", he declared, defiantly.

Silence brewed, broken momentarily by the tapping of his foot and the slight tinkles of you playing with your rings.

"Will you not?"

"I do not regret that night, Alexei. Far from it. But I cannot repeat it. There is far more than momentary joy at stake."

"I am an army officer. If you think I do not have the dexterity to keep this a secret, you are sorely mistaken.", he all but whispered, lifting your palms to either side of his face. "Simply kiss me. And you will see."

Gingerly, you moved your fingers to his jawline, and he allowed himself to be pulled closer, feigning annoyance when your eyes flicked to the door every once in a while. "Are you preparing to run?"

"I am preparing to do the single most foolish thing of my entire existence."

"I would think that would be marrying him."

"You would think that."

He scoffed. You were an endearing little enigma, that was for sure.

His lips reintroduced themselves to your neck, your throat, your chest, your abdomen, until he was on his knees before you in the middle of a library.

"Alexei, stand up."

"I do not think I can.", he mumbled, his temple resting on your knees as he clung to you in stubborn, barely contained wrath. "I cannot go back out into that depraved mundanity and watch his arm tighten around your waist as though he has any claim over you."

"He is my husband."

"By law! By name!" He stood up quite quickly at that, standing between your legs as he held your face in his rage-filled, trembling hands. "Not by action! Not by love. I love you, I love you! I love you!", he cried, firmly pressing your foreheads together as he attempted to remove all the strands of your hair from between you two. "And you love me. I understand why you won't say it, but you are saying it, in every way but vocally. The hesitance, the concern. Your eyes — god, your eyes, my love, they flicker like your stars everywhere else, but with me, they are firm, the light of a candle or the light of the sun on a hot summer's day."

You stared at each other, for a while, allowing Vronsky to catch his breath and you to catch your thoughts from going away from you.

"You do not believe that if we were to run away, I have the skills to provide for us?"

A smirk.

You groaned, rubbing your temple as you laughed under your breath. "Not this again."

"No, I'm an army officer, for one, and I am classified as an able-bodied-young-man, which, correct me if I'm wrong, is quite useful when looking for odd jobs in small towns."

"I am not running away with you."

He tilted his head, nodding as he stroked the spine of a nearby book with a single finger, rubbing the dust off with his thumb, before placing it back down. "I know.", he grinned, before kissing your nose, of all places. "However, now you will spend the rest of the night wondering what odd jobs you will be able to take up in this little nomad fantasy life of ours."

Oh, this absolute bloody—

"Have a good evening, my Lady. I will be right there, across the room, watching only you, if you need me. I think you could quite excel at milking goats or cows—", he managed to call, guffawing through the corridors as the book next to you was hurled in his direction, only managing to thwack onto the door — that he closed in record speed.

Scoffing, you replaced the book before you crept out the library door.

Your thoughts (and eyes), naturally, kept wandering back to him, across the ballroom.

'Seamstress?', he mouthed, raising a brow in mock curiosity.

It was annoying, how well he knew you.

Note to self : do not fall in love with a best friend who knows exactly which buttons to push, and who knows exactly when you will enjoy those buttons being pushed.

With Alexei, it seemed he crafted those moments, effortlessly.

Seamstress. Hm.

It managed to fulfill Alexei's sole objective of getting your mind off the reality of the arm around your waist, leaving indents, and on to something absolutely fantastically unrealistic.

Which, at the end of the day, had always been his aim.

Save you. Protect you. Shield you. You.

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andy-15-07 · 1 month ago

Text

A Dance of Eternal Promises

pairing:Alexei Vronsky x f!reader

summary:During preparations for a grand ball, Alexei and his beloved celebrate enduring love, whispered dreams, and hopeful new life.

word count: 2264 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

Alexei Vronsky and you woke early on that gentle morning, the sunlight barely brushing the ornate windowpanes of your shared home. Today was not merely any day—it was the day of the grand ball, and with it came the celebration of both your union and the soon-to-be arrival of your first child. In the hushed light of dawn, while the city still slept, the two of you found yourselves immersed in the soft rituals of preparation, each moment an ode to the love that had grown between you.

You sat before a carved antique vanity, your delicate hands moving with quiet precision as you arranged your hair. Resting gently on your lap was the unmistakable reminder of the life blossoming within you—a small, vibrant promise of the future. The room, adorned with roses and pastel draperies, filled with the scent of freshly cut peonies and the gentle murmur of your whispered hopes.

Alexei, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that spoke of refined elegance, approached with a smile that brightened his usually composed demeanor. “My love,” he said softly, his hand reaching to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, “you are more radiant than the morning light itself.”

Your eyes met his in the mirror, and a tender warmth spread through you. “Thank you, my dearest Alexei. Tonight, as we step into the ball, I want every eye to see the glow of our joy—of the life we are about to share.” Your voice carried both excitement and the weight of dreams fulfilled.

With measured care, he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “Every step we take tonight will be a step toward the future we build together. I long to dance with you, to lose myself in the music and the quiet promise that every heartbeat holds.”

The conversation flowed as naturally as the gentle breeze that stirred the lace curtains. You spoke of the anticipation of dancing beneath the soft glow of chandeliers, recalling memories of your first dance—when the world fell away and it was just the two of you, your hearts keeping perfect time. “Do you remember,” you began, your voice tinged with nostalgia, “when we first danced together, and it felt as though every note of the orchestra was written just for us?”

Alexei’s eyes sparkled with recollection. “How could I ever forget? It was as if the stars had aligned solely to bring our souls together. Every graceful turn we shared that night was a promise of the life we would lead—a life filled with passion, hope, and the constant wonder of love.”

As you both moved about your preparations, the room resonated with gentle laughter and whispered dreams. You carefully fastened a delicate brooch to your gown—a deep burgundy silk dress that hugged your form elegantly, its color reminiscent of the passionate hues of a sunset. “I have thought about tonight all week,” you confessed, adjusting the fabric with loving care. “I want our dance to tell the story of our journey, the struggles and triumphs, and now, the joy of a new beginning.”

Alexei stepped closer, his hand warm on your shoulder. “And I want every step we take on that dance floor to be a testament to our unyielding devotion. Our child will inherit a legacy of love, strength, and the beauty of shared dreams.” His voice, low and earnest, mingled with the soft strains of a distant piano.

You paused, a soft smile curving your lips as you glanced down at your belly. “Sometimes, I find myself imagining our child watching us now, wondering how we became so intertwined in each other’s hearts. It feels as if every moment, every glance, has led us to this crescendo of life.”

Alexei’s gaze softened. “Indeed, my love. Every heartbeat, every whispered word, every shared secret has woven the tapestry of our lives. Tonight, as we join the swirling throng at the ball, I want you to know that in every conversation, every dance, I see our past, our present, and the endless promise of our future.”

The hours ticked by as the two of you moved seamlessly between moments of quiet reflection and bursts of playful banter. At one point, while you adjusted a stray hem of your dress, you teased, “I wonder if our child will inherit my flair for mischief or your impeccable sense of style.”

Alexei chuckled, his laughter warm and rich. “Perhaps a little of both, my dear. I imagine our little one will have my adventurous spirit and your gentle grace—a perfect blend of both our souls.” His eyes crinkled with mirth as he continued, “And who knows? Maybe our child will be the one to steal the show at the next ball.”

The room around you was alive with the quiet symphony of domestic bliss—the soft clinking of fine china as breakfast was set out on a nearby table, the rustle of silk as you moved about, and the ever-present undercurrent of shared hope. Each object in the room seemed imbued with meaning, a silent witness to the love story unfolding with every whispered word and tender glance.

Before long, the time came to step out into the bustling world beyond your door. The grand staircase of your home, polished to a mirror-like shine, welcomed you both as you descended with measured grace. Every step echoed with the promise of the night ahead, a night where you would become the center of a celebration not just of opulence and artifice, but of a love that had been nurtured in the quiet moments between chaos and calm.

Outside, the world was vibrant with life. Carriages glided along cobblestone streets, and the chatter of passersby formed a lively counterpoint to the inner sanctum of your shared joy. Alexei, ever the gentleman, extended his hand to you. “Shall we, my love?” he asked, his tone both gentle and insistent, as if urging you to embrace the magic of the evening.

“Always,” you replied, your voice filled with quiet resolve and anticipation. “Let the night be a canvas for our dreams, a stage upon which our love is the performance of a lifetime.”

Walking together to the ball, your dialogue was a continuous exchange of memories, hopes, and plans. “Do you recall the first time we met at a similar celebration?” you inquired, eyes sparkling with the recollection of a long-ago summer night. “The way your smile lit up the room, making it seem as if everything had suddenly fallen into place?”

Alexei’s response was immediate and heartfelt. “I remember every detail. Your laugh was the melody that captured my heart. Even amidst the chatter and clinking glasses, it was as if only your voice reached me, pulling me toward you.” His tone held a note of reverence as he added, “Every dance, every glance since has been a reaffirmation of the bond we share.”

At the grand entrance of the ball, beneath glittering chandeliers and the admiring gaze of elegantly dressed guests, your conversation deepened. “Look at how everyone stops to admire us,” you whispered, a blend of amusement and quiet pride in your tone.

Alexei’s eyes never left yours. “They see only a glimpse of our story, but in that glimpse, they witness the passion and hope that define us. Tonight, the ball is not simply a celebration of society—it is a celebration of us, and of the future that awaits.”

Inside the ballroom, the ambiance was enchanting—a sea of dancing couples, lively music, and the soft murmur of delighted conversations. Yet even amidst this splendor, your dialogue remained intimate. While waltzing in a secluded corner of the floor, you said, “I sometimes worry that the splendor of this night might make me forget the simpler, quieter moments that truly matter.”

Alexei’s reply was immediate, his tone both reassuring and filled with adoration. “Never, my dear. For even in the brilliance of these lights and the grandeur of this setting, it is the simple truth of our love that shines brightest. Every shared smile, every whispered word, every heartbeat in sync with mine—it is all a reminder that true beauty lies in the authenticity of our connection.”

The dance continued, and with each turn and each gentle step, your conversation wove seamlessly between playful teasing and profound declarations of love. “Do you think,” you asked softly, “that one day, when our child is old enough, they will listen to our stories and understand the magic of a night like this?”

Alexei’s smile was both mysterious and tender. “I believe they will, my love. They will learn that our life has been a series of moments—a dance of passion and hope, of challenges met with courage and triumphs celebrated with joy. And in every step we take, they will see the unbreakable bond that has carried us through every storm.”

In the midst of the waltz, a dear friend approached, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Alexei, your love for her is as inspiring as the legends of old,” she said, her voice lilting in admiration. “Tell me, what is it that makes your union so extraordinary?”

Alexei’s eyes softened as he replied, “It is in the quiet moments, when the world fades away, and it is just the two of us—our hearts speaking in a language older than words. Our love is not simply a dance of appearances; it is a quiet, enduring melody that will guide us and our child through all of life’s seasons.”

Another guest, caught up in the enchantment of the night, added, “And now, with the promise of a new life soon to join your dance, it is as if the universe itself is rejoicing in your happiness.”

You smiled at these kind words, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Our child will be born into a world filled with love, laughter, and the beauty of shared dreams,” you said, your voice a soft murmur that resonated with every listener. “I want them to know that no matter where life takes us, our love will always be the guiding star.”

As the evening unfolded, every conversation, every shared laugh, and every whispered promise further enriched the tapestry of your lives. The ball became a living, breathing testament to the love you both nurtured—a love that had weathered storms and now shone as brightly as the chandeliers above.

At one point during a quiet interlude by a window draped with silver curtains, you paused to reflect. “Sometimes I wonder,” you said softly, “if all the beauty of this night is enough to capture the magnitude of our love. It seems so vast, so deep—how do we even begin to measure it?”

Alexei’s gaze was tender as he took your hand in his. “We do not measure love in grand gestures or opulent settings,” he said gently. “Love is found in the quiet moments—a shared glance, a soft touch, the way your eyes light up when you smile. Tonight, every moment is a note in the symphony of our lives. And no matter how grand the ball or how sparkling the chandeliers, it is our hearts that truly illuminate this night.”

In that moment, your words merged with his, forming a melody of hope and assurance that lingered long after the music had faded. You both knew that while the ball was a celebration of the present, it was also a promise—a promise of a future where every shared dance, every quiet conversation, and every new heartbeat would add to the enduring story of your love.

Later, as the final dance drew near and the crowd began to thin, you found a secluded corner where the gentle murmur of the evening gave way to a peaceful quiet. Here, with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through tall, arched windows, you continued your heartfelt dialogue. “I want you to promise me something,” you said, your voice husky with emotion. “Promise that no matter what comes, we will always hold on to this feeling—this unyielding joy, the simple truth of our love.”

Alexei pressed his forehead gently against yours, his voice a tender vow. “I promise, my beloved. Every day, every dance, every breath we share will be a reminder of the promise we made—to cherish one another, to hold our dreams close, and to nurture the love that has always been our guiding light.”

And so, as the night slipped quietly into the early whispers of dawn, Alexei Vronsky and you remained entwined in a timeless dance—a conversation of hearts, an endless dialogue of hope and commitment. The ball, with all its splendor and elegance, was but a backdrop to the real celebration: the celebration of your union, your shared dreams, and the promise of a new life soon to join your eternal dance.

In the gentle silence that followed, as the last notes of the music faded into the cool night air, you both knew that the beauty of this night would linger long in your hearts. It was a night of whispered confessions, of dreams shared between glances, and of promises made beneath the watchful eyes of the stars. A night that encapsulated the very essence of your love—timeless, unyielding, and infinitely beautiful.

With one final embrace and a quiet kiss that sealed every unspoken vow, you stepped out into the future, hand in hand, ready to greet the promise of tomorrow. The dance of your lives, rich with the laughter of the past and the hope of the future, continued onward—a brilliant, ceaseless melody echoing in every heartbeat, every shared word, every soft whisper of love.

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